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pro-mammonologist · 1 year

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Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend

A fun vacation to the mountains! The brothers are fascinated by the human world and even more fascinated by the human world’s interpretation of them. After exploring a local church, Asmodeus learns of Mc’s relationship with the church as well as igniting an interesting fantasy of theirs.

What happens when the brothers discover Mc’s more impure fantasies? (Plenty of irony)

Note: inspired by the song Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend by Powerwolf, if you’re okay with a little bit of metal, you’ll love this and want it in your obey me playlist

GN!Poly!Mc but with a coochie x All Bros

This chapter is SFW with NSFW conversation but no explicit action. The MC also has religious trauma so yeah.

Chapter 1: “theres a phantom lust to wake”

You shielded your eyes from the light blistering down on your skin. Having been in the Devildom so long, you forgot the intensity of the sun. You were thankful it was warm considering the coolness of the Devildom, it was a nice change, it was familiar. You packed cool clothes, making sure that your outfits were nice and airy for your trip. The brothers did the same, considering how their bodies had adjusted to the coolness of the Devildom, you already had Asmo and Mammon droning on about the heat only a few hours into your arrival.

Yes, your arrival. Lucifer wanted a trip with all of you and everyone said the usual beach, camping, famous city 1, famous city 2, and Lucifer of course suggested a factory tour but you wanted to relax. So, Satan suggested a more scenic trip, a nature trip. You loved the idea, being a lover of adventure. At least with them! So you all got to planning you settled on a mountain trip. Central Europe has many different attractions but none compare to the beauty of the mountains, especially in Switzerland.

“Man, ever been here before?” Mammon asked to no one in particular.

Satan opened your travel guide. “No, I don’t think any of us have been at least not to this one specifically.”

You looked out the window next to Mammon, lofting yourself from the seat on your train. “Are we not going to the alps?”

Lucifer chuckled from across you. “The alps would be boring… what if you’ve gone before?” He sipped at his tea, swirling the cup around before placing it on the tray in front you.

“I’m human, Lucifer, and this stuff costs money and time! What makes you think I’d have explored the alps in their entirety!” The scenery outside was enough to keep you fascinated, let alone the mountain trip approaching.

You could hear faint snoring behind you in the aisle and Beel munching on whatever food he had. Levi was babbling about how he’s seen this exact area in such and such while Asmo doted on the woman on the other side of the train. They pulled straws to choose who’d be sitting with you, short had to sit the next aisle over. They’re convinced Mammon cheated, but he insisted that if that were the case he wouldn’t have Lucifer in the same row as you two. Lucifer was offended, but it was entertaining to listen to them bicker as Satan told you about his most recent series.

You were on the train for much longer than you figured you’d be, causing eventually the whole party to lament. Once you arrived, you all were thrilled and ready to explore, but what caught everyone’s attention the fastest was the cathedral in the middle of the town.

“Beautiful architecture.” Lucifer noted, smiling to himself. “Catholic imagery has always had its appeal despite its not so kind depiction of us.” You could hear Satan scoff and you giggled at his reaction.

“I agree.” you could smell the incense from the exit of the train station. “I was shocked to find you and Satan are two separate beings.” You moved toward Lucifer as Beel lifted Belphie and his bags back up.

“Man, churches are kinda eh, if you ask me. Pretty but uncomfortable!” Mammon thumbed his nose up and pushed his sunglasses up, though with the current weather, they are unneeded. “Ain’t these places supposed to be sunny?”

“It’s Europe,” you sighed, “it’s always cloudy!”

“Still too hoooooot…” Asmo whined. “And we have to walk to where we are staying??? Ugh!” He looked exhausted despite having just sat for hours. “I’m already so beat!”

Satan started walking eastward. “Well, to rest, we need to actually get there first!”

“Well, that building has people giving out refreshments!” Beel notes, also feeling thirsty and tired. And hungry. “Maybe they have food.”

“Uhhhh,” you start, ready to protest but Mammon, Asmo, Levi and Beel (also Belphie) are already heading that direction.

“I don’t see why we can’t go inside. Perhaps we might learn something interesting.” Lucifer suggests and Satan gives up on trying to get to the cabin and follows suit. You give in as well.

Getting up close, you’re even more impressed. The stained glass and Roman build, the renaissance ambience, its all amazing. You inhale the scent of incense again and exhale. It’s hard to not be familiar with any Christian establishment in this world, especially of a Catholic nature and within Europe. Nuns were walking around the courtyard and they greet your party, speaking German. Satan speaks it eloquently and they offer to give you home baked bread. Beel obliges and eats it up in seconds.

“Danke.” You feel strange, receiving food from a place you abandoned long ago. You find it strange how the brothers seem so unbothered by it’s presence, but considering the various interpretations of demons, it makes sense.

“So holy water won’t burn huh?” You ask Asmo, who is drinking to his hearts content.

“This is bottled water, sweetie… I don’t think it’s holy unless they bless it.” He winks and offers the rest to you.

“Yeah… I think it’s funny how you guys are so… chill.” You trail off and fixate onto the crucifix adorning the doors of the church.

Asmo blinks and looks at you deeply. “It’s just a building. Humans get a lot of stuff wrong about us, don’t worry.” He sees your sudden shift in mood. “I love how cute you get when you’re worried.” He tries to soften the mood and make you smile.

Your eyes remain transfixed on the building. “I’m not worried, I just never thought I’d be back at one of these after meeting you guys. Any house of worship, really, especially a Christian one.”

Asmo looks confused. “I don’t really know this stuff, I just know they think we torture bad humans and there’s like 9 layers of the Devildom… oh and that Lilith was a human that corrupted the first human man or whatever.” He leans in closer. “Do the books and stuff say anything about me????”

“Yeaaahh.” You respond and finally look away from the doors. “I don’t really remember that much. All I really remember is the stuff about Lucifer.”

He pouts and walks to the doors. “Man, why is he so special. He’s beautiful but he isn’t me.” He pushed them open and the sound of the old doors creaking open make you jump.

The nuns look over in your direction and your face goes red. Satan comes up from behind you and grabs your shoulders. “Jumping like that makes you seem more demon than we.” He looked down at you and you shuffled out of his grip.

“Those things are too loud to be that old.” You hear Mammon say looking toward you. He has a cheeky grin on his face and his sunglasses now folded and hanging on his shirt. “Don’t worry,” he nudges, “I’ll protect ya from any scary nuns.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. Satan looks to where Asmo has stopped inside, admiring the—

“Gold!” Mammon shouts and chases after Asmo.

“There he goes again… do you want to go inside?” Satan asks you and you look aside to the rest of the brothers who are now looking toward you.

“It seems like…” you look at their eager and curious faces. “You all want to go in.”

“Is it wrong to be curious? We never get that much time here especially in a place with fictional depictions of us. You could say it’s like we are evil celebrities here.” Satan mentions and he’s right. Who wouldn’t want to know what someone wrote about them, especially if that many people believe it.

“Okay.” You say, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what they’re burning. It smells really good.”

You go inside and find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Asmo once again who was scurrying around trying to figure out what everything is. “Hey! Mc, what’s that man doing?”

“He’s going into confession.” You answer bluntly.

“Confession?” Asmo ponders aloud.

Mammon interrupts, “yeah you don’t know what that is? You confess to people stuff.”

“Kinda. But to a priest and it’s your sins.” You add, moving along to find where the smell is coming from.

“Ooooh… so it’s like that ‘daddy, sorry I’ve been naughty’ thing!” Asmo looks jubilant.

“Uh, more like ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned.’” Their ignorance is shocking. Don’t they know anything? “You really not know that or are you joking?”

Asmo taps his finger on his lip. “What’s the difference?”

Both you and Mammon look shocked now. You say, “uh, ones horny ones not!”

Asmo looks offended almost. “Are you not supposed to be horny in church?”

You froze and blinked for a minute. “Huh?” Thank the gods that there aren’t any English speakers around. “You… Asmo, you know lust is a sin.”

“Obviously but I was curious! It’s really funny that sorta stuff is sinful even though I see sexy nun costumes all over the place at Halloween in the human world. Don’t forget sexy priest too!”

It’s unfathomable what you hear from them sometimes, especially when it makes no sense. They’ve mastered your language, understand human pop culture for the most part, they even know some chunks of human history, but the one thing they don’t know is directly about them?

Lucifer joins your group. “You seem rather shocked, Mc. Is something wrong?”

“How do you not know anything about the group responsible for the whole religion condemning you?” You ask and Lucifer sighs.

“Well, as you know, I’ve long detested how I am depicted as well as the fact that Satan and I aren’t even considered separate beings. Truth be told, I just never encouraged them or myself to learn anything about it after the fall. I didn’t want them to be upset. Now, since you’re here, I think we might be more willing to interact with it.” Lucifer looks content and his words sound honest. That also makes sense but it’s still very mind-boggling their ignorance. “Mc, I only know what I’ve been told to be honest. I know much more about other depictions of demons that might be more accurate to us. But most human tales are a bit ridiculous.” Lucifer notes, scrolling to show you an image of Baphomet. “You mean to tell me most humans think this is me when it quite literally isn’t even me in the tale itself?”

“Yeah, I guess if it got that crazy, I would stay out of it too. Plus it’s not like you could really intervene and tell people it isn’t true.” You feel Lucifer’s cold hand on the small of your back. “Huh?”

“I’m curious, what did you think when you were going to meet us?” Lucifer looks at you, smiling.

“Well… a lot to be honest. Demons are depicted as deceitful, they’re to lure humans into sin. They’ll often treat you kindly, seduce you, or do whatever to make you feel safe and then take everything from you so I sorta expected that… but also I knew deep down that there’s no way that’s all true.” You answer him honestly.

He chuckles. “We do treat you kind, seduce you, and try to make you feel safe. Do you worry we are manipulating you?” He’s smiling but he’s hiding concern in his voice.

“Truth be told, the church manipulates so much that I figured I’d be used to it.” You only make him laugh again. “I know you guys love me.”

“Hmm, if I was expected to confess all of my wrongdoings to one person I’d feel terrible as well. That’s a lot of power to give one person, Mc.” His hand remains on your back and is now accompanied by Asmo’s arm.

“Heyyyy! We can all get a touch, can’t we??? I’d happily confess all my naughty thoughts to you, Mc!” Asmo snakes himself in between you and Lucifer. “And all the naughty things I’ve done.

“I’m sure you would.” You grin now, a thought coming into your head. “Say, wonder what that priest would say if I told him I’ve been bedding with demons.”

Lucifer grinned. “I’m sure they’d consider you quite the sinful human. I imagine sleeping with demons make for quite the punishment?” You nudged him playfully and stood by him for a minute.

“Don’t go getting too many ideas now.”

The clouds in the sky were heavy, ready to downpour. Lucifer pulled them group out of the church and you said your goodbyes to the nuns and made your way to your lodgings. It wasn’t too long of a journey, the rain only began when you were a few blocks from it. Lucifer rented an airbnb for your group and it was a homely loft, almost castle-like. It was clearly an older structure but had been receiving regular updates. It had only 4 bedrooms, but a multitude of beds for you all to share.

“So who gets to sleep with Mc?” Oh no. It has begun.

Beel asked the question innocently and Mammon was the first to speak up. “Obviously me!”

Asmo next. “Well, I think they want to sleep with me.”

Then Belphie half asleep. “Me n’ Beel should share.”

And then Satan. “I came up with the idea for the trip so I should pick where I sleep first and I choose where Mc plans to stay.”

Then Lucifer. “You picked it and I did the planning, I deserve first pick.”

Then Levi. “I never get to go first so I should!”

It was always bound to be chaos when you had to share rooms especially with seven demons completely obsessed with you.

You spoke up. “Let me try to make this fair. I guess I should choose first?”

They all agreed and you wandered the space. One room was large with one king sized bed in the middle, accompanied by a large window showing you the outside view of the woods. It was a dark room, much like the rest of the loft. Next there was another large room, this one with one bunk bed and another bed caddy cornered against the wall. It only has one window and small laterns hung to the ceiling, it’s charming and fantasy like. Thirdly, there’s another slightly smaller room complete with two beds next to each other, it wasn’t anything impressive, just like a hotel room complete with dark academia ambience. And lastly, a room about the same size as the next, another set of beds similar to the previous room but this time, it had a large window the exact same as the first room. The view in this one was certainly on par with the first one and you debated over which one.

But the answer was clear to you. “I want the first room. One more person can fit in the bed with me.” They looked as though they were ready to fight. “Okay, let’s do it this way… pick a number 1-50.”

“Ugh… 7.” Belphie answered.

“33.” Satan.

“I was gonna choose that one! 44.” Mammon.

“12.” Lucifer.

“Hmm… 24.” Levi.

“18!” Asmo.

And then Beel. “40.”

You waited a moment before saying who won. “Asmo gets to sleep with me.”

The brothers sighed of annoyance as Asmo celebrated and came up to you. “Yaaay! We’re gonna have lots of fun together.” He wrapped his arms around your hips and you pushed him back.

“Don’t get too touchy now. And don’t go feeling me up as I try to go to sleep, ‘kay???”

He pouted. “That’s no fun but I guess I will listen.”

You all started to move into your rooms and settle in. You could see the sunsetting as the downpour was intense. The sound was nice and calming, it made you want to cuddle up and relax with the brothers, but other things were on their minds. You walked up to the window to watch as the rain fell, gazing out into the woods.

“Mc, what are you thinking about?” Asmo asked, plopping onto the bed.

“Nothing really, just shocked Lucifer didn’t check the weather better.” You answered, briefly gazing back at Asmo.

“It must’ve not been in the forecast. You seemed upset earlier.” His voice went serious. “Was the church uncomfy for you?” He pulled at your arm to get you to sit on the bed.

“You could say that. I was kinda worried about you guys too. But really… there’s just not a lot of good in places like that. Even though they pretend to be good.” You chose your words wisely, not wanting to venture deeper.

He waited a moment before responding. “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah I’m good, to be honest…” you trailed off and your cheeks went pink. “I joked with Lucifer about how the priest would react if he found out I’ve been fucking you guys.”

Asmo giggled. “I imagine they’d be jealous, hun.” He rolled onto his back and cocked his head. “Ever seen any pretty ones?”

“Pretty priests??? Most of them are old.” You laughed, confused by his question.

“Well, it’d be funny if I were to seduce one huh? As a demon? It might be fun!” He suggested, his brain filling with naughty ideas.

You laid back beside him. “Well, they’re people too. I bet they wanna fuck.”

He turned his head to you slowly. “Have you ever been attracted to anyone of a pure status?”

You squinted at him, smirking. “Well, it is interesting to consider defiling them. But no one has ever caught my eye.”

“Demons love to corrupt.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Mc, I have… an idea.”

Uh oh. You looked at him and shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’ve already been corrupted by demons, so why not get punished by priests.” He suggested, nonchalantly.

“You want me to go get fucked by priests?” You were shocked, looking at him like he’s crazy.

“No silly, even better! Us pretending to be priests!!!! See, it sounds fun!”

Asmo was a man of many talents and many thoughts, but this one hit multiple parts of your psyche. Religious trauma, arousal, demons, kinks, and your insatiable lust for all of the above to be combined. Something you didn’t know until now. Well. Really, that’s a lie. It has always been arousing to consider how, as Asmo said, they’ve corrupted you, but to fantasize about retribution? Now, that’s new.

Asmo ran his hand up your arm. “Mc, you’ve been thinking a while…”

You snapped back in. “I like that idea.” You couldn’t be shy around him anymore, there’s no point with how well he can read you now. “So you wanna include the rest of them?”

“Satan and Lucifer will likely love this idea. Lucifer loves to punish as you know.” Asmo leaped up from the bed. “Let me go ask them now!”

“Hey!” You raced after him and he shouted for everyone to gather in the middle of the room. You were already feeling hot, embarrassment searing through you.

The brothers walked out of their rooms, complaining of being summoned, too tired, or annoyed. Asmo grinned eagerly and awaited for you to get beside him.

“So! Our lovely Mc confided in me of something naughty!” Asmo wrapped an arm around you and you saw the mood of the room instantly change.

“Naughty?” Lucifer’s mouth widened into a grin. “Do tell.”

The rest of them all nodded in agreement. Belphie yawned. “We just got here and they’re horny huh?”

You shot Belphie daggers with your eyes. “Asmo suggested I merely agreed.” He laughed at your response and looked at Asmo, eagerly awaiting to hear your fantasy.

“Mc has been dirtied by all of us, corrupted and fucked nice and good, so it’s up to the holy to punish them for their sins, is it not?”

Satan was the first to respond. “And we are to take up these holy roles?” He leaned on the railing to the stairs, propping his elbows up and resting his chin on his hands, his eyes lowering. “I quite like that.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”

“So we’re gonna punish ‘em?” Mammon looked to you, his face unreadable.

Levi came up beside Mammon, making him jump. “Ohhhh this is like that one episode of That One Time I Got Turned Into A Human! I know exactly what to do!” Levi looked even more excited that Satan or Lucifer.

Beel was still quiet but he looked deep in thought. When his eyes met yours you instantly knew what he was thinking about. You could see hunger in his eyes, this one not for food.

“So we’re all in agreement? Why don’t we do it tonight since we are all rained in?” Mammon broke the silence and to your own surprise as well.

“Hm, it’s short notice but I’m sure we can negotiate a scene.” Lucifer nodded and looked around to see everyone’s reactions and then his gaze landed back on you. “Shall we get on with it then?”

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me nightbringer #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #Satan x mc #asmo x mc #beel x mc #Belphie x mc #obey me smut

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jbaileyfansite · 22 days

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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.”

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#jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #interviews #interviews:2024 #LA times interview 2024 #LA times #fellow travelers #NEW!

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3rdeyeblaque · 9 months

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On September 10th we venerate Elevated Ancestor, Voodoo Queen of Louisiana, & Saint, Marie Catherine Laveau on her 222nd birthday 🎉

[for our Hoodoos of the Vodou Pantheon]

Marie Catherine Laveau was a dedicated Hoodoo, healer, herbalist, & midwife who, "traveled the streets [of New Orleans] like she owned them", as the most infamous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.

Marie C. Laveau I was born a "Free Mulatto" in today's French Quarter in what was then, New France); to a mother & grandmother who were both born into slavery & later freed via freedom papers. It is believed that she grew up in the St. Ann Street cottage of her maternal grandmother.

She married Jacques Santiago-Paris, a "Quadroon" "Free Man of Color", who fled as a refugee from Saint-Domingue, Haiti from the Haitian Revolution in the former French colony . After his passing, she became known as "The Widow Paris". She then worked as a hairdresser catering to White families & later entered a domestic partnership with a French nobleman his death. She excelled at obtaining inside information on her wealthy patrons by instilling fear in their servants whom she either paid or cured of mysterious ailments. Although she never abandoned her Catholic roots, she became increasingly interested in her mother’s African traditional beliefs. The Widow Paris learned her craft from a ‘Voodoo doctor’ known variously as Doctor John or John Bayou.

Marie C. Laveau I is said to have intiated into Voodoo career sometime in the 1820s. She's believed to be descended from a long line of Voodoo Priestesses, all bearing her same name. She was also a lifelong devout Catholic. It didn’t take long before Marie C. Laveau I dominated New Orleans Voodoo culture & society before claiming title of Queen. She was the 3rd Voodoo Queen of NOLA - after Queen Sanité Dédé & Queen Marie Salopé. During her decades tenure, she was the premier beacon of hope and service to customers seeking private consultations - to aid in matters such as family disputes, health, finances, etc, created/sold gris gris, perforemed exorcisms. While her daughter Marie II was known for her more theatrical displays of public events, Marie C. Laveau I was less flamboyant in her persona. She conducted her work in 3 primary locations throughout the city: her home on St. Ann Street, Congo Square, & at Lake Pontchartrain. Despite one account of a challenge to her authority in 1850, Marie C. Laveau I maintained her leadership & influence.

The Queen died peacefully in her sleep in her ole cottage home on St. Ann Street. Her funeral was conducted according to the rite of the Catholic Church & in the absence of any Voodoo rites. To her Voodoo followers, she's venerated as a Folk Saint. In² addition to her Priesthood in Voodoo and title of Queen, she is also remembered for her community activism; visiting prisoners, providing lessons to women of the community, & doing ritual work for those in need.

She is generally believed to have been buried in plot 347, the Glapion family crypt in Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1, New Orleans. As of March 1st, 2015, there is no longer public access to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Entry with a tour guide is required due to continued vandalism & tomb raiding.

We pour libations & give her💐 today as we celebrate her for her love for & service to the people, through poverty, misfortune, bondage, & beyond.

Offering suggestions: flowers + libations at her grave, catholic hymns, holy water, gold rings/bracelets, money

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atr #atrs #the hoodoo calendar #conjure #rootwork #rootworkers #ancestor veneration #Marie c Laveau #Voodoo #Voodoo Queens #new orleans #new orleans Voodoo #Vodou Pantheon #Haitian Voodou

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vestaignis · 3 months

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Застывшие во времени люди и боги итальянского скульптора Арриго Минерби Феррары.

People and gods frozen in time by Italian sculptor Arrigo Minerbi Ferrara.

Арриго Минерби ( 10 февраля 1881 , Феррара — 9 мая 1960 , Падуя ) — итальянский скульптор . Родился 10 февраля 1881 года в еврейской семье в Ферраре , под руководством скульптора Луиджи Леньяни посещал курсы декоративно-прикладного искусства в Ферраре в школе Доссо Досси . Он работал керамистом, декоратором, тренером и штукатуром в Ферраре, во Флоренции (где он совершенствовал свое мастерство в Академии изящных искусств ) и в Генуе (из этого периода следует помнить гигантского Нептуна из железа �� бетона 1910 года в Монтероссо ).

В возрасте 35 лет он переехал в Милан , где в 1919 году устроил для критиков и публики выставку своих работ в галерее Пезаро. Эта выставка также успешно гастролировала до 1920 года. Regionale di Ferrara, возвращение в Милан в 1922 году перед поездкой на Primaverile Fiorentina, и, наконец, его пригласили на Венецианскую биеннале , где он выставил свою серебряную группу «Тайная вечеря» (сейчас в Соборе Осло ). 14 июня 1925 года в Парко делле Римембранзе на Бондено он представил свой «Мадре» как памятник погибшим в Первой мировой войне. Он стал почетным гражданином Бондено, хотя это было отменено из-за фашистских расовых законов и повторно присвоено только в 2004 году. После Второй мировой войны Минерби работал в основном для католических церквей и кладбищ (в Милане, Риме, Рапалло , Пьяченце , Падуе , Коппаро).

Arrigo Minerbi (February 10, 1881, Ferrara - May 9, 1960, Padua) was an Italian sculptor. Born on 10 February 1881 into a Jewish family in Ferrara, under the guidance of the sculptor Luigi Legnani he attended arts and crafts courses in Ferrara at the Dosso Dossi school. He worked as a ceramist, decorator, trainer and plasterer in Ferrara, in Florence (where he perfected his skills at the Academy of Fine Arts) and in Genoa (from this period the giant iron and concrete Neptune of 1910 in Monterosso should be remembered).

At the age of 35, he moved to Milan, where in 1919 he staged an exhibition of his work for critics and the public at the Pesaro Gallery. This exhibition also toured successfully until 1920. Regionale di Ferrara, returning to Milan in 1922 before traveling to the Primaverile Fiorentina, and finally being invited to the Venice Biennale, where he exhibited his silver group The Last Supper (now in Oslo Cathedral). On 14 June 1925, in the Parco delle Rimembranze in Bondeno, he presented his Madre as a monument to those killed in the First World War. He became an honorary citizen of Bondeno, although this was revoked due to fascist racial laws and was only re-granted in 2004. After World War II, Minerbi worked mainly for Catholic churches and cemeteries (in Milan, Rome, Rapallo, Piacenza, Padua, Copparo).

Источник: :wiki5.ru,https://www.artearti.net/mostre/arrigo-minerbi-ritorno-alla-gloria, /it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arrigo_Minerbi, /vk.com/@bmpage-gigantskaya-statuya-neptuna-v-nebolshom-italyanskom-gorode, //www.artearti.net/mostre/arrigo-minerbi-ritorno-alla-gloria, /www.flickr.com/photos/pivari/21549242499, /www.finestresullarte.info/en/exhibition-reviews/arrigo-minerbi-sculptor-between-ferrara-and-the-italian-culture-of-the-early-twentieth-century.

#искусство #Италия #скульптор #Арриго Минерби #скульптура #Нептун #Тайная вечеря #Мадре #Italia #sculptor #Arrigo Minerbi #sculpture #statue #neptun #The Last Supper #Madre

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19emma75 · 10 months

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my fav frerard fics

Ok so here’s my grank fic rec list!! I’ve put links to each fic on ao3 for easy access + most if not all have nsfw/explicit elements so be warned!! I’ve written afew tags next to each one so u get an idea but no spoilers ok here we gooo

⭐️ = fav of all time/must read

- The Best Part of My Day by pixie_revolver - office co-workers au

- ⭐️pinkish by antspaul - kid fic, fake relationship to lovers

- Black Market Blood by autoschediastic - short vamp!gee/human!frank

- ⭐️The Mess We've Made by ViciousVenin - pencey era frank, strangers to lovers, angst with happy ending

- Life as a Process by ViciousVenin - fav vamp!gee fic, college roommates au

- Happy Together by MorningGloryxxx - focus on mental health/lgbt themes/addiction, eventual happy ending

- A Splitting Of The Mind by Shoved2agree - yall already know, cw for heavy mental health focus

- Unwanted Thoughts by ViciousVenin - touring, pining, friends to lovers

- Skin of the Canvas by sinsense - art school/nude model au

- ⭐️Unholyverse trilogy by Bexless - holy grail of fics, priest!gee, demons, stigmata (you've probably already read this ik)

- ⭐️The Anatomy of a Fall by novembersmith - supernatural, high school au

- ''that was easy'' by metaleaterz - 'the staples fic', they just work at staples and its cute ok

- another superstition by metaleaterz - friends to lovers houseflipping au

- ⭐️Crossed Out by Haze - time travel and blood magic!! so incredible it should be made into a tv show umbrella academy style

- ⭐️In a Column of Lights by xobarriers - entomologist!gee/director!frank, SO wholesome and sweet and lovely

- Did You Miss Me? Cause I Missed You by LiberXI - wholesome/funny/smutty friends to lovers college au

- ⭐️Nothing Above Nothing Below by LiberXI - pencey era strangers to lovers with a supernatural twist, LOVE the writing style sm

- You Will Leave a Mark by brooklinegirl - short but intense pencey era strangers to lovers

- rough ‘round the edges by starryfrens - sick fic with gee as frank’s caregiver, heavy and heartwarming

- Living on a prayer by beforethesungoesdown, Kitoko_kun - priest x priest with expected amounts of catholic guilt and pining

- Before The Second Show by CharredLips - sweet + fluffy bullets era mutual pining

- ⭐️Wishing You Were a Ghost by pixie_revolver - “right person wrong time”, angst with happy ending, heartbreaking but amazing

- ⭐️Kinktober 2023 by insusurro - all parts set in the same universe, surprisingly heartwarming for the subject matter, great characterisation

- ⭐️Moth to Flame (or Whatever) by onceuponamoon - insanely perfect florist au

- Companion by onceuponamoon - workplace au (carer/office worker)

- Buy Handmade + Bread and Butter by jjtaylor - adorable artist/baker au

- ⭐️Paris!Verse trilogy by vesna - artist gerard/record label owner frank, INSANELY good characterisation, so beautiful and emotional

- Time Travel ‘verse by ladyfoxxx - funpoison/frankghoul/rrr time travel shenanigans, amazing and kind of heartbreaking

- Christmas Miracle by insusurro - wholesome and festive teacher au

- Choosing My Confessions series by pixie_revolver - kinky/wholesome priest au

- a constant record of disillusion by drapnel - non au realistic pre-bullets to post-summer sonic ‘04, heavy so read tags

- All Through The Night by LiberXI - bullets era meet cute

- ⭐️The Horror That I’m In by pixie_revolver - paramour estate, paranormal activity, frank goes through the horrors, angst with happy ending

updating periodically so keep an eye out <3

#frerard #grank #fic rec #mcr fic #fan fiction #remember when this was an art blog? me neither #gerard way #frank iero #mcr

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beesmygod · 4 months

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What are some of your favorite pieces of art/ art that has made you think a lot?

this is such a cheesy cop-out answer, but there's a lot of things that im going to struggle remembering because of 1. how situational the experience was (as in, the context in which i experienced the piece) 2. how wide the word "art piece" is. 3. the great fortune to have been born to parents with strong artistic sensibilities and a love of travel/education. so these are like. really weird and specific but maybe thats the way it should be:

let's start with the most overly dramatic: st. paul's cathedral in london has guided tours where they take you into rooms and let you mill around before moving to the next one. my family took a trip overseas as a really, really big special vacation to celebrate my sister and i graduating from high school (we're not twins, we just combo'd it after she graduated) that i was too brain-broken and teenage to fully appreciate. its a beautiful cathedral but i was in my edgy internet atheist stage and refused to be impressed by it until i stood over a grate in the floor. through the grates you can see the crypt that you visit next. but standing over the grate, someone below started to sing something hymnal and very catholic. and i realized i was the only one who could hear it because of the crowd chatter. and it made me feel, in the moment, so special and so lonely in a way that i still think about, a lot. it was for me only. divine providence.

a date with adam to a place i had no idea existed but he had been to before: the bad art museum, which is split over like 3 different buildings in a bizarre way. we only went to the one where you have to buy a ticket to a movie as entry and it was some truly lovely bad art and made me sad how inaccessible it was but resolute about my love of the nuances of uncelebrated anti-art masterpieces. then we watched "assassination nation" and it was fucking terrible. great date.

reading the theory regarding the "venus of willendorf" being a self portrait as a 20-something year old and running into the bathroom to take my clothes off and look down at myself and having my mind blown. not just by how much i instantly understood it, but because of the tugging feeling on my heart when i feel that strand of history connecting women artists driven by that unknown compulsion to create for creations sake!

similarly, seeing artemisia gentileschi's work next to her fathers and realizing how much she outclassed him in every single way and feeling the tugging feeling again, but this time with a dark woe of realization of how history minimizes achievement and talent when it eases a narrative

reading jane erye's descriptions of herself and her approaches to her plights and for the first time feeling like someone had walked a path that i currently found myself lost on.

reading 1984 as a middle schooler and becoming so angry at the ending i threw the book across the room (something i had never done before and never did again in my life) and stormed out of my room to complain to my mom lol. IT REALLY UPSET ME!!!

reading les miserables for the first time and weeping piteously for days after the ending and having it impact my brain so hard it re-wired how i think about the concept of "legacy" and what it means to matter in the world and how love is nothing without the courage to stand up for it. and that mercy should, and will, always supersede unwavering justice (hard lesson to remember, maybe im due for a re-read)

sneaking into my parents room to read the books i wasnt supposed to yet as a really little kid lol. my mom used to get "dykes to watch out for" in a newsletter she was subscribed to! but i didnt read those bc they were dumb relationship comics for grown-ups. i wanted to read about opus the penguin and lee iacocca, as if i knew who that was. my mother's comic collection was the single most influential constant in my life. knowing that i was exposed to bill watterson's commentary about his own work via the big collections my mom owned probably explains a lot about what's wrong with me. but she also had a lot of berke breathed before he fully wussed out

the general experience of playing a video game that you arent supposed to/when you arent supposed to is probably one of the most freeing means of meaningless rebellion as a kid that everyone should experience. i used to be up playing pokemon past my bedtime under my covers with a huge heavy rubber flashlight i stole from the kitchen and had to replace every morning without getting caught once i was done with it. god, the days before backlit screens we had to get really fucking wild with it. in high school i would wake up at 5:00am, sneak into the computer room where the ps2 was and play an hour of FFX bc its the longest fucking non-persona game in the world, stop playing before my mom woke up at 6:00am and sneak back into bed. if i hit a part where i couldnt save i would just turn the screen off and come back to it tomorrow lol. secrets......

reading the "pictures for sad children" arc about paul, who is a ghost, finally losing it and going on a rant about how it has never mattered how thin a computer screen is. they were right and reading it helped me articulate and understand a growing feeling of restless frustration at the world around me that i felt singular and alone in. im glad that last i heard that artist is doing ok. i hope they recognize the incredible value in their work as imperfect as they perceived it to be. i do not think they would be happy to know that their old work was impactful, but i hope they realize that what people are able to tease out of their work is meaningful, at least to me it is. ill transcribe the comic rather than repost it i think: paul [while smashing electronics]: "have i told you about [bam] how nerds destroy the world take conspicuous consumption as a lifestyle choice and combine it with early hardware adoption and you have great swaths of gadgetry out of stock because they're incrementally better than the last model and there are landfills full of functioning electronics wasted time, resources, money, etc. the best part is that these things were never necessary it has never mattered how thing a computer is." [smash]

this is too long. i like art.

#art #long post

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

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THURSDAY HERO: Gino Bartali

Born in a small town near Florence in 1914, Gino grew up extremely poor. He escaped his difficult life by riding his bike from dusk until dawn around the hills of Tuscany. Building up exceptional strength and endurance, Gino started competing and winning races. Only a few years after his first race, he went professional. By the early 1930’s, Gino was a household name throughout Italy. Everywhere he went he was mobbed by fans. When he won the Tour de France in 1938, at age 24, Gino was hailed as the “King of Cycling.”

Gino wasn’t able to defend his title at the 1939 Tour because of worsening relations between Italy and France. He was drafted into the army and worked as a military bike messenger. In 1943, Germany invaded Italy and immediately began rounding up and deporting Italian Jews. A friend of Gino’s asked him to help save their Jewish brethren. Though married and with a young son, Gino did not hesitate. He immediately committed to doing whatever he could to save lives, whatever the risk.

Gino sheltered a local Jewish family in an apartment he bought with cycling money. He then embarked on a dangerous mission smuggling fake identity papers around Tuscany and Umbria, enabling Jews to assume false identities and escape deportation. Using his training routes between Florence and Assisi, Gino made 30-40 trips, saving at least 800 Italian Jews. He carried exit visas in his bicycle frame. Wherever he went, Gino was surrounded by fans, preventing German policemen from looking too closely at what he was doing. On the few occasions he was stopped and searched, Gino insisted that his specially-made bike was too delicate to be touched. A devout Catholic, Gino often traveled from Florence to Assisi and back in one day – a 200 km trip. In Assisi, Catholic clergy ran an underground railroad to hide Jews and provided them with Gino’s fake identity documents.

Gino was extremely modest and rarely spoke about his wartime heroism. He once told his son, “If you’re good at a sport, they attach the medals to your shirts and then they shine in a museum. That which is earned by doing good deeds is attached to the soul and shines elsewhere.” It wasn’t until after his death in 2000 that his family began speaking publicly about what Gino had done. In 2013, Gino was honored by Israeli Holocaust Museum Yad Vashem as “Righteous Among the Nations.”

For using his talent and fame to save hundreds of lives, we honor Gino Bartali as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

#Thursday Hero

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catholicholyland · 2 months

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To Know More Visit Us :- https://www.catholicholyland.com/

#best catholic pilgrimages #custom tour of the holy land #catholic tours and pilgrimages #catholic travel center #catholic tour company #holy land tour #jerusalem tour #tour and travel #catholic tours and travels #catholic tour provider

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juniperusashei · 2 months

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The Crying of the Wind: Ireland by Ithell Colquhoun - 3/5

EDIT: I have scanned and uploaded a copy here: https://archive.org/details/crying-of-the-wind

I had to go on a bit of a quest to find this book; it isn’t available online anywhere to my knowledge (not even my dubious usual sites!) and physical copies go for upwards of a hundred dollars, but luckily I was able to get a card from my university’s library that allowed me to get another card to check it out from a different university’s library. So a whole lot of hype for a travelogue.

I’ve been on a bit of an Ithell Colquhoun kick lately, to the point that I can actually spell her name without verifying. She is most famous for her visual art, which straddles the line between surrealism and abstraction, and much of her literary work such as her novella The Goose of Hermogenes is rooted in the occult tradition to the point that the rest of the surrealist movement apparently found her annoying and kicked her out. I was curious what take such a mythic individual would have on a relatively mundane genre as the travelogue, and I did find The Crying of the Wind an interesting if a bit jarring read. It is jarring in that most of the book is a typical travelogue, recounting conversations with locals and visits to typical tourist sites such as Glendalough, interspersed with asides about the occult or the fairy realm. Fair, because Ireland as a nation has always embodied contradictions, most notably that between their Pagan past and the Catholic Church (syncretisms not unlike what Gloria Anzaldúa talks about in Mexico)! For example, Colquhoun goes into a detailed dive into the theories behind the fairyland before concluding they are “beings inhabiting a supersensual plane which interpenetrates the universe normally perceptible to human senses.” It feels tongue in cheek, but knowing her, it’s not.

Did I enjoy this occult tour of Ireland? I didn’t find it stunning the way my favorite travel writers such as Joan Didion and Vita Sackville-West can be, but it was certainly an interesting angle. Though well-intentioned, Colquhoun’s colonial British upbringing does show itself, which is perhaps expected for a book published in the 1950s, but there was a surprising amount of portraying the Irish as “noble savages” — in an odd way, this book felt quite orientalist at times. Nevertheless, I think I would enjoy travelling with Ithell, just because the attention she gives the local flora on every page reminds me of how much I geek out about plants whenever I travel.

#The Crying of the Wind: Ireland #ithell colquhoun #travel #nonfiction #3 #march 2024 #2024

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momo-de-avis · 10 months

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LISBON, July 28 (Reuters) - Portugal's famed street artist, Bordalo II, has broken into a Lisbon venue where Pope Francis will celebrate a mass next week and rolled out a huge carpet of oversized banknotes to criticise how much the state has spent on the event. Francis will travel to Lisbon from Aug. 2-6 to attend the World Youth Day global gathering of young Catholics, which is expected to bring together hundreds of thousands of pilgrims. Bordalo II, known for his political art pieces often made from garbage, shared pictures and videos of the carpet, featuring humongous 500-euro ($551) notes, being rolled out down the venue's stairs on Thursday in a protest he described as the "walk of shame". "At the time when many people are fighting to keep their homes, their work and their dignity, millions worth of public funds have been invested to sponsor the (papal) tour," the artist, whose real name is Artur Bordalo, wrote on Instagram. Official estimates in January showed the event would cost 161 million euros, to be paid by the government, the Catholic Church, the city council of Lisbon and nearby Loures. A number of public figures and politicians have criticised the Portuguese state for its share of the expenditure, which the government put at 30 million euros in January, as millions of Portuguese face galloping inflation. Earlier this year, heavy criticism forced the Lisbon city council to cut planned spending on an altar for Francis to celebrate a mass to 2.9 million euros from over 5 million euros. Asked about Bordalo II's carpet, Lisbon Mayor Carlos Moedas told reporters the artist used his voice to express his concerns and that such protests were normal for these events.

#in case you didn't know #Bordalo II is the great-grandson of one of the Bordallos (don't remember if Rafael or Columbano)#that's why he uses the 'the second' thing #he's an exceptional artists in my opinion #portugal #news #world youth day

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fahye · 29 days

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Hi Freya! Firstly, thank you SO much for the whole Last Binding series, but especially for A Power Unbound--I absolutely adored it. I love Jack and Alan, and I love the way they play with class and danger. It's so rare to see that kind of thing handled in both a thoughtfully and WILDLY sexy way, and it melted my brain in a very very good way.

My question is about something else, though. I noticed this line when Alan steps into the kitchen in the Clerkenwell house:

"He reached up to absently touch the doorframe as he did so, an adopted habit of his mother's that travelled from house to house and created a shiny-smooth patch in any place that the Rossi family inhabited for long enough."

It immediately made me think of someone reaching to touch a mezuzah in a Jewish household. Is there some family history implied there, or is it just a coincidence? Either way, it's a lovely detail!

hello! thank you so much for reading and this message!

and that was an entirely coincidental echo; I wasn't implying anything about alan's family (catholics all the way down, I'm afraid!).

but I love the small gestures and small habits, physical and verbal, casual or superstitious, that develop within households.

and I have a memory from I think a tour of a historical house, somewhere and sometime, pointing out a worn-smooth patch in the upper frame of a door that they thought was due to generations of slowly-taller more modern people existing in a house where the ceilings and frames were of the height that matched the much shorter average population when it was built. and so they had to reach up and catch the frame as they ducked through it, so they didn't bump their heads. I can't remember any more than that. but it stuck!

#ask replies #glitterarygetsit

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betterbooktitles · 14 days

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On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive.

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris.

“What is this?” I said aloud.

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office.

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.”

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.”

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them.

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said:

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head.

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on.

“Jack and Coke, Ben.”

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.”

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly.

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer.

Read the rest of the essay here.

#lit #memoir #essay #writing #long reads #long post #funny #weird #memory #dan wilbur #story #storytime #amwriting #youth #teens

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