#performing femininity so she could be a ''''''real woman''''''

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok & Seven of Nine should have been overbearing co-parents to the borg children

#non romantic co-parents and they won't even admit they're friends (they don't have* friends! they don't need friends!) #star trek voyager #they are organizing a joint schedule they have a shared space google doc #Seven of Nine #Tuvok #They are both overbearing in different ways <3 #I think Tuvok is an excellent father and also that he would not be able to parent every child effectively - especially non Vulcans #Meanwhile Seven is like 'Children are basically little employees I have to train yes?' #Chakotay: You're not going to be raising this children...alone. will you?? #Seven: Of course not. / Chakotay: Thank G- / Seven: Commander Tuvok will assist me. #Chakotay: -the most forced smile ever- o h h........ #*spoiler: They're very good friends #I think Tuvok would want them to be better behaved than they are but know that children are unpredictable to a degree and they've #been through a lot meanwhile Seven really has no reference for what children are supposed to be do and act like #besides. Seven doesn't need to be a mother. She's like twenty something and newly independent - she should have been at the club instead of #performing femininity so she could be a ''''''real woman'''''' #Stop making female characters mothers.......its enough. #None of the VOY women should have been mothers. Maybe Kes - she seemed like she maybe wanted kids. I could see Kes being a good mom #down the line (not in Elogium I liked that episode and its ending) but none of the rest of them needed #or seemed to particularly want that

[rthko]

This will sound like a joke but I’m serious. My first introduction to postmodern queer theory was stumbling on a televised talent show as a pre-teen and watching this woman smash soda cans with her breasts. When the judges asked her a predictable question, if I recall correctly, she answered: “they’re fake but they’re real.” I knew what she meant. She’d had implants, sure, but she wasn’t just wearing a prop she could put on or take off. She wasn’t trying for verisimilitude—her breasts were real simply because they were hers. Ever since I’ve been fascinated by the possibility of something being real and fake at the same time, and the truth that these aren’t static or mutually exclusive categories. I think of all the people who have doubted the authenticity of my faggy mannerisms, accusing me of putting on an act instead of being myself. I feel so much pressure to say that this is just who I naturally am, but this is only half the truth. I do like being feminine, I do like being over the top, I do like being tacky in the most delightful ways, and sometimes I emphasize these parts of me just because I can. We can choose who we want to be and still be real. Anyway as I typed this I looked up the video and found that during that woman’s performance Dynamite by Taio Cruz was playing so good for her.

#notes on camp

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Phantom of the Night

Phantom! Eddie x Fem! Reader Smut Blurb

AN: Hello! I am a huge POTO fan, and obsessed with men in masks. I wanted to write this for fun and for spooky season. It's a length and smut filled blurb. I'm sorry about the college of pictures not being as inclusive as I'd like (it's hard asf to find POTO aesthetic in varying body types :/ ) but promise that the description is vague and meant for anyone AFAB or feminine leaning :) (psst: this ones for my ghouls @eddies-house @xxhellfiregirlxx @ghost-proofbaby who I adore and feed my delusions lol)

Warnings: MDNI! mature themes, dubcon, vouyerism, somnophilia, mentions of exhibitionism, corruption kink, bondage, biting, oral, penetration, virginity, loss of innocence, masks, dom! Eddie, posessive, body worship, stalking and obsession, kidnapping, etc.

As a child, you had been brought up in the exquisite opera house that your town boasted of, your father taking you often to see the shows and ballets performed there. He was a violinist, a talented one at that, and had many close friends who performed at the opera. Growing up, it was just the two of you. Your mother had grown deathly ill when you were five. She passed there soon after, leaving you and your father alone. In womanhood now, you sensed that he brought you to the opera so often rather than get you a nanny to distract you with elaborate performances in order to hide your fearful loneliness that a young girl got with losing her mother. 

But now you were a woman, a member of the opera yourself in the corps de ballet, your years of training under Karen, your father’s old friend, finally coming into play. You took the job soon after your father's death when you turned 20, desperate to keep the estate he left you and not leave the home and comfort of the opera house. Besides, you loved ballet and the elegance it left you feeling, despite the pain. But it was nothing compared to your true love. Singing. Music. 

Your father had you take singing lessons as a young girl, but those lessons were now lost in years of memories. You tried to practice alone but felt off-pitch. It was disheartening. You mostly had done so as a hobby rather than a real-life pursuit of the stage, not believing yourself to be skilled enough. You kept it hidden from the rest of the troupe, embarrassed over what they would say about a grown woman attempting to learn to sing and having daydreams of the stage. 

Which is what led you to this point. You had found a few places to practice in the opera house, the building so old that there were many hidden passageways and nooks and crannies. You often tried to use these locations in order to practice. Your betrothed, Steven, constantly scolded you and claimed one day you would get lost and no one would be able to find you in the maze that was the opera house. (Steven meant well, but could sometimes be more like a mother hen.) Still, you found yourself overwhelmed by curiosity and in need to explore more and more of the building. 

You looked around, curious to see if anyone was nearby. You had found this entrance behind a mirror in a makeup room, the dark and almost damp hallway confusing you. You walked on further, the long skirts of your white gown brushing the cold stone floor, probably dirtying the edges. You held the candle you used as a light in a shaky hand, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill. This place reminded you of dreams you so often had involving a dark dim cave, some mysterious yet enchanting man…no, creature…whisking you away with his lulling voice and seductive tones. You felt your heart race and your thighs squeeze together at the thought. 

You were ashamed of these dark desires. You were always told that women weren’t meant to feel lust. Ballerinas were not meant to daydream about dark and haunting shadowy figures whisking them away into the night against their will. That was why you were so passive in your arranged engagement with Steven. What did it matter that you felt not a bit of swirling desire for the man if you were not meant to? He had good money and was kind and treated you well, despite your less-than-normal childhood. Maybe after the wedding, you could squash all these horrid and sinful feelings in your belly. 

While lost in thoughts, you heard a gust of wind brush by you, the sudden draft blowing out your candle. You gasped, your heart racing as you caught the sudden flash of movement by you, fear squeezing up your throat. The figure moved in a flash, clearly tall and lean. 

“Hello? Who goes there?” You called out, willing yourself to swallow down the frightful feelings in your belly. 

Nothing could be heard but the faint drip of aging pipes and the rustle of the wind in the ancient hallways. You sighed, turning back to where you came from. Perhaps Nancy was correct and you could stand to stop reading things filling your head with the idea of monsters lurking in the night. 

You laid on the gaudy chaise lounge, restless and unable to sleep. Karen, in an attempt to be motherly with you, was earlier discussing ‘wifely duties’ with you, well aware that your education on the matter was crude at best from the words you heard other girls in the corps giggle over. Or occasionally, the male singers would boast of their escapades. She filled you with this idea that women were to lay there to be for their husbands and bear children. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. For the past few months, you had been…exploring your own desires. You found you couldn’t sleep without it. And yet…

Tonight you were staying at the opera in an attempt to curb the dark desires in your belly. You knew nothing of a man’s touch but did not want to sully Steven with your lustful and seductive thoughts. You hoped staying in a room not your own would discourage your brain from such thoughts.

You agreed with Karen to stay in the private dressing room, despite the fluttering gasps of your peers in the corps. There were rumors of a dark figure that haunted the opera house, always causing mischief, running around and stealing props, leaving notes on the music sheets, and even occasionally harassing the singers by wrecking their rooms. You weren’t one for superstition, but felt also that perhaps the girls had a point. You had felt a presence near you often, something lingering but still there. 

Just as you did lying there. You were only in your nightgown, the fabric thin and not modest at all. You could feel a presence despite the room being empty. You stared at the ceiling, your heart racing and an even more sinful thought entering your head. 

What if you touched yourself with that presence watching? 

You felt the heat creep from your neck to the tips of your ears, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of company. The thought excited you, the heat growing between your legs and your nipples pebbling at the thought. You sighed, cursing yourself but knowing you could not rest without the feeling of release. 

You shakily grabbed at your skirt, pulling it up while turning to look at your reflection in the mirror. The mirror faced the chaise lounge. You felt a gasp escape your mouth as you looked at yourself. You looked…delectable. Absolutely depraved. Your eyes were dark with lust and your nightgown revealed most of your bare legs, part of it tugged down to reveal cleavage as your hardened nipples poked through the delicate white fabric. 

You began to rub at the wetness between your legs, mewling pathetically at the friction and staring at yourself losing control. You felt your mind go foggy, your wetness growing as your moans became more desperate. You felt your eyes flutter, feeling as if the presence was staring at you. And whether it was the small sip you had of wine earlier you had with Karen or the lust clouding your thoughts, you swore you could see a shadow within the mirror, a pair of warm and sultry brown eyes slightly visible. The sight of the shadow caused you to reveal more of yourself, feeling the need to put on a winning show. You threw your head back, pulling the nightgown down more to free your breasts to the chilly air as you rubbed at your clit more ferociously, your moans and whimpers growing in desperation. You felt the tension in the room grow as the feeling grew before the tension snapped, leaving you shattering to pieces.  

You panted as you came down from your high, letting yourself catch a breath and trying to fix your appearance. You turned towards the mirror slowly, your body heavy and worn. You saw only yourself. No warm or sultry eyes. No shadowy figure. Just you. You let your eyelids flutter as you head off to sleep, sure to dream of the dark presence once again. And just before you do…you swear you see the shadow flash across the mirror. But maybe it was just your tiredness affecting your sight. 

The second time you experienced the presence was another night sleeping at the opera house in order to assist Nancy with her duties in the morning, since her mother, Karen, had left her in charge of the duties this time around, scolding her about needing to be responsible. You were asleep, dreaming and tossing while imagining that dark presence looming over you, your lust creeping in. In the dream, the dark shadow was looming over you, kissing up and down you, as silent as possible. You watched as the shape kissed its way down, growling hungrily at your entrance. You couldn’t see much but felt, almost as if it were real, lapping at your sensitive clit. You woke dazed, lust pooling between your thighs as you tried to sit up, sure you were feeling something licking and sucking on the swollen bud between your thighs. A gloved hand clamped down on your eyes and prevented you from seeing who the culprit was, your heart racing. You smelled the familiar mix of cinnamon and orange peel, along with sharp notes of rum and ginger, a tonic you knew as familiar among the singers in the opera to keep their vocals sharp. You felt your thighs shake, and moans leaving your mouth despite your brain's conflicting thoughts. 

This is wrong. I don’t know this person. But…the pleasure…they are so skilled with their mouth…I’m so close.

You writhed, whimpering and attempting to escape the mouth to discover who was there, only to feel the other hand hold you tightly in place, a deep and fearful voice growling lowly. 

“Stop your infernal movement, little angel. I would like to worship this beautiful cunt to the best of my ability,” The masculine voice ground out in agitation, the words sending chills up your spine and desire to build to the breaking point. Worshiping you? Men in high society didn’t worship working women like you. You were lucky to even find a betrothal while most dancers were considered ‘low and loose’ women who needed to work in order to gain money. This man was odd and…so very skilled at making you unravel. 

You were drunk on the eroticism of it all. A stranger licking at you like a man starved of a month’s worth of meals, the inability to see his appearance, his demanding tone and forceful hand. You saw stars and felt your pleasure overcome you, your body shaking at your release that he seemed to slurp up, the noises so vulgar they would make a lady of the night blush. You lay there, eyes closed, catching your breath slowly. When your eyes finally fluttered open, you sat up, hoping to get to know the man behind your most recent confession in church, only to be met with silence, not a soul in the room. You felt your heart sink as you tried to fall back asleep, your mind swimming with thoughts of the mysterious voice and the warm, strong hands. It seemed the ghost of the opera might have been real after all. 

Nancy and the other girls in the corps began to notice your distracted gaze, your prolonged nights at the opera, and your skittishness, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure when people claimed he zipped past. You felt a strange obsession, a need to follow the dark shadow and discover who was consuming your dreams. 

You heard him at night occasionally, humming or singing. Or at least you thought it was him. It was a low and chilling sound. Your body thrummed with excitement anytime you thought you saw a flash of him in the rafters or heard a stair creak. You began to notice little gifts waiting for you in the dressing room, in your favorite nooks and crannies in the opera. Red roses and small notes in the messy script, usually referring to you as Little Angel. Nancy was worried about you, trying to escort you home often and getting Steven to dote on you more. But you were done. Corrupted. Filthy. And you wanted nothing more than to be in the Phantom’s embrace once more. You wanted him to explore you. Ruin you. Your mind was riddled with him day and night. 

You kept it hidden from everyone, but you often explored the ancient passageways now with the intention of finding him. Occasionally you left gifts. Your most used lipstick, a snippet of a poem, a book you had just read. You would come back to the spots to find the items gone, occasionally a rose left in their place. You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl. Your ghost…your Phantom… seemed to acknowledge you. 

If only you could catch him…

It was a few months after weeks of giddy gift exchanges and running after shadows. The notes and roses stopped. The flashes of a dark figure ended. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe you were just a fool who imagined or dreamed of the interactions. 

On a dark night, you were aimlessly wandering the halls, singing to yourself a song you remembered your father singing. You had abandoned all hope of your dear ghost coming to capture you. Free you from a loveless marriage. You were set to marry Steven next week. Abandon the opera. Become a proper lady in society. At least Steven would not be disappointed when you laid there and bled for him, giving him a child 9 months later. You sighed to yourself, twisting your engagement ring, displeased with the thing. You wandered the underground tunnels, the candlelight dim in the dark halls. You felt your heart pick up as you heard a soft yet low voice, singing aloud. Your skin erupted in goosebumps, and your heart was racing. 

“Phantom?,” You called out sheepishly. 

The singing stopped. A deep voice coming from a direction you couldn’t discern. 

“Little Angel. What is a lamb like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” called the voice, rough and cold. Was he upset with you? You were unsure. 

You felt a tug at your heart, looking around and trying to find him. “Please, Phantom. I have only one week more at the opera. I cannot bear to not feel your touch another second,” you whimpered out. 

“Ah, so you can crawl back to that insolent boy who does not deserve your glory? My heart cannot bear the rejection, Little Angel. Leave this monster be,” He growled out, still within the shadows. 

Your heart leaped in your throat as tears entered your eyes, feeling your knees wobble as you crumbled to the ground. “Please, Phantom. I cannot bear to be without you. I do not want Steven. Forgive me, please…,” You sobbed softly, your emotions in a tangled mess. 

You heard a sigh and felt yourself get grabbed from behind swiftly, a soft yelp about to leave your throat. That familiar gloved hand snuck over your eyes. 

“Alright, Little Angel. On one condition…You mustn’t, under any circumstances, remove my mask,” He warned, his tone stern. 

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to pick you up, dropping your lit candle onto the damp floor. The light went out, but as he picked you up in his arms, you caught a brief glance of him. He was a tall and lean figure, his hair a long and curly mess, his face halfway covered by a mask. You could see his plush pink lips and long lashes, warm and enticing brown eyes. 

He was beautiful.

You were tempted to remove the mask, curious as to why such an enticing man would haunt the opera. You refrained, however, out of respect. He tied a loose piece of fabric around your eyes, shielding your vision. 

You were enthralled and scared. 

You were laid down gently on a plush cushion and fabric, the cover softly removed from your eyes. You slowly opened your eyes in a dim and candlelit room, surrounded by aging theatrical props and the most plush velvet fabrics. You were on what appeared to be a bed, the dark figure standing before you. He wore a dark and long cloak, the hood down. His shirt underneath was a silky black shirt with a wide opening, displaying his chest. He wore dark pants and what seemed to be dress shoes. The items were all of high quality but it seemed they were at least a decade old. Upon looking up at his face, you saw he wore a white mask on half of it, his lips and half of his nose visible. His features were mostly soft, though he appeared worn from the years of seclusion and hiding. 

You reached out to touch his cheek, only to have him grip your wrists. His hands were shaking. His dark eyes were swirling with desire and sorrow. Was he shaken because he needed you so fervently? 

“You cannot touch me. I cannot bear it. If you were to touch me only to marry that…that damned fool later. My heart could not take it,” He growled out, his face twisted in sorrow and pain. 

You felt a tug at your heart, your hands aching to touch him but deciding to respect his wishes. 

“Alright.” 

He got up, running over to a pile of old props from past shows, grabbing at one, and walking over to you, grabbing at your wrists before tying them quickly to the frame of the bed. Your heart began to race as your body heated up, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you bit softly at your lips. Phantom groaned softly, looming over you, his warm brown eyes stirring desire in your belly. 

“Do not make such faces, Little Angel. You are so delicate, and I fear I will become without reason,” He groaned out, his eyes intense in their desire, his expression clear that it was hurtful to hold back. 

You could feel your back arch, his stiffening member brushing against you, causing you to whimper. “Please Phantom…Abandon reason…ravage me,” You mewled, writhing under the dark figure. 

His eyes became dark, his snarl deepening as he leaned in, his expression both terrifying and enthralling. “Be careful what you wish for, Little Angel. I am not too short of becoming a monster, devouring you.” 

You whimpered, desire pooling as your eyelashes fluttered, and your body leaned towards him. Two could play at that game. “Please…I’m frightened. R-release me, monster,” You whined, writhing under the Phantom’s dark gaze. A smirk fell upon his lips, dimples evident as the smirk broke into a villainous grin. 

“Oh, you should not have wandered into my lair, Little Angel. Now I must have you,” He growled lowly, taking his gloved hands and ripping open your corset before tearing at the chemise, the fabric pooling in shreds around you, your chest heaving in fear and excitement. 

Your body was bared save for the underpants that exposed your ever-wet entrance, your legs shutting in embarrassment. The Phantom growled, kissing at your lips with hunger and desperation, moans lost on his lips. He kissed you until you gasped for air before biting, nipping, and kissing his way down, focusing on your breasts. You pinched and sucked upon your nipples, heightening your pleasure and making you writhe more under him, whimpers echoing in the cold and dim room. He bit and marked you, his movements like that of a wild beast. 

“Ph-Phantom…Master… Devour me as you have before,” You whined out, meeting his wild brown eyes behind the mask as he looked up, snarling. 

“Beg. Beg for it,” He snarled, hands continuing their tortuous teasing on your breasts. 

“P-please… Master… Dev-devour me…I beg of y-you! I beg of you. I beg of you. I beg of you…,” You babbled, brain foggy with lust and his touch. 

He grinned devilishly, his white smile making your heart race. “As you wish, Little Angel.” 

He slowly made his way down, sure to kiss and mutter praises over you the entire time, letting you know how divine you were, leaving marks with sharp bites here and there. Finally, he reached your entrance, diving in as if it were his last supper. He flicked his tongue across your clit before sucking on it, alternating that and nibbling at your inner thighs, your body writhing like a woman possessed, your eyes rolling in pleasure. 

He truly was wicked, worshiping you beyond your wildest dreams, his words meeting your ears and deepening the carnality within you. You were gone. Lost to this bodily sin. 

“So divine. I do not deserve this beautiful cunt, these heavenly breasts, your godless moans… If this is the price I pay to become Lucifer’s lackey, I will happily pay the toll,” He babbled, fingers curling up into your entrance, his mouth still latching onto your clit. 

You felt your back arch and felt a ripple through your body. You shattered around his finger, your orgasm taking over your mind. You whimpered as he continued to touch you past your high, your nerves so sensitive you felt tears come to your eyes. He stopped short, growling lowly. 

“I’m going to condemn you, Little Angel. Fill you full of my cum. Mark you as mine and mine alone. You are my pet. My divine creature,” He snarled, his face twisted as you felt a shock of fear and lust overtake you. He could have you. You were his. 

“P-please Phantom…Pl-please,” You whimpered, lip trembling in longing as your body shook with terror. 

You suddenly felt a slow thrust into your entrance, the fullness causing a sharp pain, your head thrown back in a silent cry, eyes watering. The thrusting continued at a slow pace, the Phantom’s arms shaking as he appeared to hold back. You looked up at him, the desire growing sharper in you, your dull pain now adding to the pleasure, your legs slightly writhing. You fought against the ropes, whimpering. Phantom seemed to catch on as his brown eyes met yours, something in him snapping. He began snapping his hips at a ferocious pace, making you cry out as he continued to growl but also began to whimper and moan. 

“Such a perfect cunt. A vision. They don’t deserve you. So flawless…Cannot wait to fill your belly with my seed…Corrupt and condemn such a goddess…Ravaged by a monster…What would Steven think…?”

You moaned at the suggestion, thinking of how scandalous the situation would be. Your high was coming along a lot faster as the Phantom growled in your ear, hand at your throat while squeezing the sides and cutting off air. You felt your mind panic suddenly as you writhed but moaned louder, the lightheadedness causing immense pleasure. You were so close. 

“Oh, does my Little Angel enjoy that? Would you like to put on a show for the opera? Singing that beautiful song of pleasure?” He moaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier. 

You felt yourself climb higher and higher towards release, reaching it finally when Phantom growled in your ear making you grow with a child, making everyone know you were his. You saw stars behind your eyes, your heart bursting from your chest as you panted. The Phantom chased his own high, filling you up shortly after, making you moan softly. 

You attempted to catch your breath as the Phantom went to grab you a washcloth, wiping away at the spilling fluid. He released your wrists allowing you to rub at them. You flushed, your body limp and warm, worn out by the activity. You lay beside Phantom who held you to his chest, singing softly as you drifted off. 

You woke up once in the middle of the night, Phantom asleep. You stared at his face, only noticing how much more peaceful he looked in his sleep. You bit your lip, wondering why a man would wear a mask, even during sexual activities. Curiosity always got the better of you. You reached out softly, peeling away the mask, being careful to make sure he didn’t stir. You gasped softly at the reveal. The man's half of his face seemed to have large scars as if someone had taken a chunk of flesh in a bite, perhaps an animal. His cheeks were riddled with them, and half of the tip of his nose also with a chunk missing. 

You frowned, cocking your head. Sure he wasn’t gorgeous on that side but why was he here. He just seemed a little scarred. You softly touched the scars, the Phantom twitching at the touches in his sleep. You stop for a moment but again, only to have the mysterious man's eyes flutter open and horror and realization cross his face and he shoots up and snarls at you. 

“You broke the one rule?” He growled, his eyes dark and anger-filled. 

“I didn’t mean-” 

You felt a quick hand tie you up again, the ropes had been on his side of the bed, You tugged against them, feeling panic come up your throat as he tilted your head up, eyes gleaming with villainy. 

“From now on Angel, you belong to the Phantom of the Hawkins Opera. Edward Munson. But you may call me Master,” He growled out, his eyes swimming with possession, desire, and fury, your mouth opening to let out protests and failing to make a sound. There was no escape. No way to save yourself. You were his. 

Be careful what you wish for. 

THE END?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera AU #poto au #eddie munson au #poto! eddie #dark! eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #dark! eddie munson #eddie munson nsft #eddie munson fluff #stranger things au #eddie munson blurb

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 13

Second one for today! Again, I will be being out two chapters a week until it is fully posted.

The Grammy's!!! Steve has a rough time of it with his recent coming out as Eddie's boyfriend. Some people are just that vile.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

****

Steve was pressed up against Eddie’s side, Eddie’s arm was wrapped around him, his fingers nervously playing with Steve’s earring as they politely laughed through the comedian’s opening monologue. They were forced to smile when a joke was made about them. All the while the entire table was seething.

Finally the jackass got off the stage and the real show began.

They sat through all the technical awards and clapped at the appropriate places.

They sat through the country, rap, R&B, and pop awards. Finally it was time for Best Metal Album.

Steve grimaced through the painful “banter” between the pop princess and the nearly dead former rocker who was hitting on her.

Finally they got through the nominees.

“And the award goes to....” the pop princess said, drawing it out for dramatic effect.

“Corroded Coffin!” the aging rocker shouted into the microphone.

Suddenly their whole table was on their feet screaming and cheering and crying.

Eddie gave Steve a quick kiss before the band got up and thanked the appropriate people.

Eddie was last. “Thanks to my Uncle Wayne without whom I would be alive. And to my new good luck charm and love of my life, Steve Harrington. Love you, baby!”

Steve smiled and mouthed “I love you too!”

And then the seat fillers came. A couple of them were knothead alphas who tussled briefly for who was going to sit down next to Steve. Steve shared a glance with Elinor, Gareth’s escort date. They both rolled their eyes.

The alpha who lost went to go sit next to Elinor while Steve was forced to endure this thug in a tux.

“Escorts like you are so frigid,” he sneered. “I was surprised to see that you were actually dating Eddie Munson.” He leaned in close and Steve could smell his breath. “But I guess whores like you tend to go for rockers and A-list actors.”

“There’s always a caveat to everything,” Steve hissed. “Nothing is as black and white as you’re making it out to be.”

The alpha laughed. It was loud and abrasive. “A whore is a whore no matter how tarted up they look.”

Steve leaned back out of his space. “Well, I get the last laugh asshole.”

The alpha frowned but then Troy, Xander, and two very beefy looking security were hauling him to his feet.

He yelped but didn’t struggle when he saw how outnumbered he was. He spat Steve’s direction, but the spittle didn’t even make it past the guy’s lips, making him look deranged.

The seat next to Steve was suddenly filled by a lovely beta woman who gushed about his dress.

Apparently she was a fan omega designers because they had a unique take on what it meant to be feminine.

Steve ended up giving her the name and number of the designer and she went away chirping happily.

Then Eddie was back and it was fucking relief.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured gently when he got settled in.

Steve smiled up at him. “Nothing my hot shot team couldn’t handle. But I’m all better now that you’re here.”

Eddie hummed, barely keeping his annoyance in check. But he had to force down his impulse to hunt down that alpha and rip his stomach out through his throat. Steve had been on the receiving end of worse bullshit than this, he had no doubt.

He must have been scenting his rage pretty strongly because Steve was rubbing his nose along his gland and murmuring what a good alpha he was.

But the band wasn’t in their seats for long as they were up next to perform their hit single “Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven”. Steve sighed at his loss but thankfully the next seat filler was stately looking gentleman who had been to fifty of these events as a seat filler. He loved the free food and even though they weren’t allowed to drink, they got sent home with a nice bottle of wine at the end of the night to make up for it.

If Steve hadn’t been excited to see Corroded Coffin play, he would have spent the whole time talking to the dear fellow.

Between him and the beta woman, Steve was able to relax again.

The song was okay, but the way they put their heart and soul into their playing, Steve could see why they were so popular.

Sadly the song was over and so was Steve’s time with the gentleman. Whom Steve was happy to tell Eddie all about.

Eddie smiled that sweet dimpled smile and kissed Steve cheek. “He sounds wonderful, Stevie.”

If Corroded Coffin won the next two awards, they would be backstage until the end of the show.

So Steve decided to soak up as much attention from Eddie as he could. He giggled a little when Eddie when right back to rubbing Steve’s earring.

“It’s my good luck charm now, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Not gonna be able to stop.”

Steve kissed Eddie deeply. “And I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Musicians, actors, and athletes were all superstitious by nature and he had been taught to lean into that regardless of what his beliefs on the matter actually were.

Besides Steve got it. Win a game three times in a row wearing the same pair of socks? Those are lucky now.

So if Eddie thought rubbing Steve’s earring was lucky, then he would let him continue.

Then it was time for the Song of the Year.

And at least this time the presenters didn’t try to make horrible small talk before they announced the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

“‘Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven’ by Corroded Coffin!” they shouted into the microphone.

The band was losing their collective shit.

Eddie picked Steve up and spun him around. “We won!”

“Sure did, love,” Steve murmured. “Now go up and get it, you beast!”

Eddie spun him around again and then ran up after his bandmates.

“This is the one we never expected to win,” Eddie said into the mic, tearing up. “There were too many great songs nominated. But this is an absolute honor. This one is for you, mama!” He kissed his lips and blew it to the sky.

He stepped away from the mic to let Jeff and the producer to give their thanks.

Then they all walked off stage.

Steve was on pins and needles now. Either they lost and would be back down in their seats for Solo Artist of the Year or they would win and they would be be doing the whole press junket again.

The big jumbotron showed the band backstage as the nominations were read, they had their arms around each other and their heads down.

Last year’s winners fumbled with the envelope as they struggled to get it open.

The bassist gripped, “Who the hell seals these things?”

Finally the drummer just ripped the top off like a letter and flipped it open.

“Corroded Coffin!”

The jumbotron showed Eddie and his bandmates just jumping up and down screaming. Then they were being shoved back on stage by their manager, Benny.

Eddie kissed all the other band’s members on the cheek as he went past them to get their final award for the night.

Steve let out a wolf whistle. Eddie looked out into the crowd and spotted him waving and whistling.

Eddie waved back.

“God,” he breathed into the microphone. “I am so grateful, I am just overflowing with gratitude to the academy and all those who voted for us. This album came from a place of love and how to find it in the darkness. It means so much to me that it found a place in people’s hearts. Thank you!”

Each of the members of the band gave their speeches and they were ushered off stage again.

Steve didn’t even bother looking at the person who filled Eddie’s seat. The show was almost over and he was so ready to be out of there and out of this dress.

He knew it made him and whoever he was with look good. That was the point of it after all. But he couldn’t wait to get into the suit and mesh top that he was wearing to the after party.

He stood up and Robin was at his side in an instant.

“Eddie told me to tell you to go ahead and get changed,” Robin said into Steve’s ear to be heard over the din of the exiting crowd, “he’s going to be awhile.

Steve nodded. He knew the drill. She had his garment bag slung over one arm as she led the way out of the main area and into the halls. Troy was right behind them.

Robin led him to a room he could change into and Troy stood guard outside the door.

Steve stripped completely, changing everything including his underwear. Thongs were great for mini dresses but a literal pain in the ass for suit pants.

He refreshed his makeup and double checked his hair. Once he was satisfied, he nodded to Robin.

She knocked on the door to let Troy know they were coming out.

“Eddie’s security just checked in,” Troy said, falling in step with both Robin and Steve. “He’s on his way out to the front and will meet us at the car.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said and let them usher him to the car.

Just before the stepped out, Troy whispered. “There are press out there and they’ll want you to comment on Corroded Coffin’s wins tonight. But their management wants you to ‘no comment’.”

Steve took a deep breath. He knew why they didn’t want him to say anything, but he was proud of them all for their well earned wins. Steve looked to Robin.

She shrugged. “I mean, you aren’t under contract with the label anymore not after you two officially became a couple, but don’t rock the boat too hard, yeah?”

Steve nodded again and stepped out back onto the red carpet.

“Steve! Steve!” came the shouts of the paparazzi.

“Are you and Eddie going back to your hotel to celebrate?”

Steve snorted, that one was easy. “No comment!”

“Eddie is expected to be at the Vanity Fair after party, are you going to be there?”

Steve glanced down at his changed outfit and raised a questioning eyebrow at the guy before rolling his eyes and ignoring him.

“Steve!” another paparazzo called. “What are your thoughts on Corroded Coffin’s wins tonight?”

And then it hit him. Why the label didn’t want him to say anything. The first time he had heard the song they were nominated for was that night. He wasn’t a fan of Corroded Coffin. He had friends that were, but he wasn’t.

“I’m happy they won,” was all of he said.

It wasn’t the ‘no comment’ the label wanted, but it was vague enough that he could get away with it.

Troy and Robin nodded. He had said the right thing.

There were more questions thrown at him but he sailed through the ordeal with aplomb.

He slipped into the car, hoping that Eddie was already there, but no such luck.

“You okay?” Xander asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

Steve let out a sigh. “Yeah. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Xander raised his eyebrow and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve admitted. “I wasn’t expecting it from a seat filler. I thought they vetted those more thoroughly than that.”

Xander nodded. “Starcourt management is already looking into it. That place was filled with escorts, how did that guy manage to not offend one before you.”

Steve hummed his agreement. He had wondered that, too. “I think he was after me specifically. I got asked if clients had canceled on me after it was announced I was dating Eddie. I know none of them canceled...”

“But maybe it angered people who were going to request you enough to not even try?”

Steve nodded back. “Yeah.”

Just then the door was yanked open and Eddie practically threw himself onto the backseat of the car.

He was pissed.

Steve immediately went into soothe alpha mode. “Hey, love, you okay?”

“I’m suing someone for slander,” he huffed, “and before you think I’m over reacting, Benny, my manager is the one that suggested it.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “If it was about me, sweetie, you’re going to have to get in line behind Starcourt. They take those things very seriously.”

Eddie blinked at him a moment, but that seemed to settle something in him and relaxed. “Good.”

Steve giggled as he was pulled onto his lap. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. You were three for three tonight.”

Eddie kissed him soundly. “I was indeed, I was right. You were my good luck charm.”

“Pleasure to have been of service,” Steve cooed.

Xander pulled out into traffic and Steve slid off Eddie’s lap and sat down next to him.

“It was a little rough today,” he murmured.

Eddie sighed. “Yeah, it was. I’m not sure why. Gareth has taken escorts to events before as have several people I know. But they were out to get you tonight.”

Steve sighed and took Eddie’s hand. He played with the rings as he gathered his thoughts.

“I think it’s because I’m so young in being courted,” Steve murmured.

Eddie frowned and turned in the seat a little to get a better look at him. “What do you mean?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Most escorts that bond are in their late thirties/early forties. Meaning they’ve had a couple of decades under their belt, but I’m not even thirty yet and all they can see is someone who is trying to honey trap one of the greatest rockstars of the era.”

Eddie rubbed his face with his free hand. “Shit, baby. I didn’t realize. But it’s ridiculous because you made more last year then the whole band did. If anything, I’m trying to honey trap you.”

Steve lowered his eyelids. “Does that mean we’re going to get sticky later?”

Eddie nearly choked on his own tongue. “Yeah, baby. We’re gonna get sticky tonight.”

Steve leaned in close, but Eddie put up a finger. “After the after party, you fiend!”

Steve pouted, but he wasn’t serious. He knew that Eddie needed to see and be seen after winning big tonight.

He just was going to tease his boyfriend about it first.

****

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

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[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 1

PRINCE OF GOTHAM

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. 

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Some other characters are changed too, hopefully you’ll enjoy the cameos etc. I’ve tweaked parts of the story here and there so it suits better. I hope you all enjoy xoxo much love. Let me know if you want a tag list / to be on the tag list.

*** 

Roy lounged back in his leather office chair and smirked as Jason sauntered in without knocking. “And what do I owe this displeasure?”.

“Just wanted to see how things were going, you know, it is my company after all”, Jason glanced around the office. Roy liked to keep things minimal, although the addition of the little cactus was new. An almost feminine touch. He made a note to question him about that later. He’d never known Harper to take an interest in plants before.

As the office door closed behind him, arguing erupted outside, barely concealed by the walls. He raised his eyebrow and looked through the window seeing a short, stumpy man in a suit become red and blotchy in the face.

“I don’t know why we still pay that moron”, Roy grunted and waved his hand to the disagreement outside. The stubby man, Eric, was tugging at his tie as a more feminine voice dressed him down confidently.

“I can have HR carry out a performance review if you’d like”.

Jason glanced out between the blinds and saw you storm around one of the desks, straight into his vision, hands flying violently as you spoke. He swallowed as his eyes followed you; a tight fitting grey pencil skirt paired with a wine silk blouse. He raised an eyebrow in interest. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, strands falling down to frame your petite face. Lips painted a deep shape of rouge. You laughed venomously before pointing to one of the free standing boards, a colourful diagram adorning it. Eric shook his head and turned away, only infuriating you more. Jason smirked, enjoying the little show.

“She’s been here 5 minutes…down boy”, Roy chuckled and grabbed something from his printer. Scrawling his signature across the bottom.

“You say that like you'd wait even 30 seconds”, Jason scoffed, a little embarrassed and slightly impressed at how well Roy could read him.

Roy looked up from the papers and grinned, “I give at least 3 to 5 working days as a courtesy before I pounce”.

Jason felt his stomach churn at the thought. He spun around quicker than he would have liked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh...so you’ve tried then?”.

“What’s it to you if I have?”, Roy grinned, noticing Jason’s reaction.

“I want to see if she has taste”, Jason quipped and turned his attention back to the escalating discussion outside. Hoping to hide the pink tinting his cheeks. You’d now dragged the whiteboard across to Eric, jabbing at one of the PowerPoint slides before rubbing your temples in frustration.

Roy scoffed to hide the laughter before getting out of his seat strolling across to Jason to hand him the signed papers, “You know, she’s the woman that saved you 500 grand last week”.

Jason frowned upon taking the paperwork from Roy, “I don't remember hearing about it”.

The white haired man shrugged to the shouting, “Take a wild guess why, Todd”.

“He played it as his own victory?”, Jason’s gaze fell back to you. Eric was crossing over your work on the board with an ugly red marker, sneering at you. Jason felt his temper surge at the blatant disregard for your hard work and effort. His brow creased at the unfamiliar emotions swimming in the back of his mind.

Roy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, a dark grin on his lips, “Oh! So you do have a brain”.

Jason rolled his eyes, rolling his broad shoulders, “Contrary to popular belief, yes I do”.

Roy laughed deeply as he watched you with Jason through the window, your irritation bubbling over as you repeatedly jabbed your pen to the graphs on the board, voice becoming louder with every word, “She’s a real pistol”.

“I can see”, Jason hummed appreciatively as you stalked off towards the coffee room, the skirt pulling tight against you, highlighting the curve of your ass perfectly. 

Eric looked flustered as the rest of the staff in the room stared at him following the heated exchange. He shouted something to them, causing them all to bow their heads behind their computer screens. Roy grumbled something under his breath Jason couldn’t make out. Eric turned towards Roy’s office and stiffened when he saw both men watching him. Jason smirked at him, giving a subtle wave before turning to Roy, “You know what, I will send HR down this week to investigate”.

***

You checked yourself in the mirror of the elevator again, nerves making your stomach somersault. The dress had been an extravagant splurge but the moment you laid your eyes on it, you knew you had to have it. It was a floor length, backless crimson dress with a daring thigh split. You ran your hands down the front of the fabric, the satin soothing your clammy palms.

Your hair was curled loosely and draped down your bare shoulders, lips a dark red to match your dress. Briefly, you hoped, you hadn’t gone overboard with your outfit. The invitation had said ‘formal wear’. The elevator dinged and before you could think too much, the doors slid open revealing you to the party. You heard someone gasp in the distance and that’s when the entire room turned to your direction.

You were used to people staring at you in the office because of your fiery attitude but this was different. You felt your skin prickle. An odd sensation driving through your nerves. Everyone had paused to stare at you as you stepped into the room. The music faded in the back of your mind, replaced by the hammering of your heart. You straightened yourself and strode into the room with all the false confidence you could muster.

His eyes. Jason. You could feel them burning more than anyone else’s. He’d stopped mid sentence when you entered the room, cigarette left smoking in his hand. He was surrounded by his executive team, including your area manager, Mr Harper. Whilst you felt heat spreading across your cheeks, you felt somewhat pleased you’d stunned your loud mouthed CEO into silence. Roy had slapped Jason on the back, a dark smirk on his face drawing his attention away from you. He glared at Roy before taking a long drag from his cigarette, continuing with his conversation as though nothing had happened. The group of suited men dissolved into barks of laughter.

You needed a large drink. Preferably a strong one too if you wanted to last the night. You headed straight towards the bar, as fast as your towering heels would allow.

———

Jason patted one of the executives on the shoulder, making his excuses before striding across to you as you leaned against the bar, your bare back on full display. He swallowed thickly, you looked majestic under the glittering fairy lights draped around the room.

He settled next to you at the bar, clearing his throat before speaking, the deep timber of his voice rattled your core, “I think...I've seen your face before”.

You rolled your eyes at the terrible opening line before turning to face him. The black suit fitted him perfectly, showcasing his broad shoulders, his blood red tie knotted tightly against the collar of his crisp white shirt.

“Probably during one of your lonely nights over a bottle of chardonnay”, you lazily waved your hand at him.

Jason smirked at your attitude and laughed, “You think I’m chatting you up princess?”.

You pursed your lips together, nodding, “It certainly sounded that way to me and I really don’t know what else you would do after swaggering away from that crowd just to talk to lil’ old me”.

“I simply had to talk to the woman who stunned the room into silence”, his smooth voice sent shivers over your skin, oozing charm. You imagined it worked on every woman he encountered. It almost worked on you.

“Very smooth Mr Todd”, you teased and tried to wave the bartender down with no luck. You sighed and cursed under your breath.

Jason clicked his fingers, drawing the attention of the waiter immediately, “Two large glasses of Malbec please”, he winked at you when the bartender reached to the top shelf of liquor, “I know who you are”, Jason gave you a devilish smile, “You’re the 500 grand woman”.

“Y/N”, you winked and wiggled your finger at him in a joking fashion. The grin on your face widened when the wine was set down in front of you both. The rich, spicy smell drifted up your nose.

You dug your hand into your purse but Jason shook his head, “It’s on me”.

“Oh”, you clicked your tongue playfully, “You’re too kind”, you smirked at him.

Jason wouldn’t admit it, but he knew exactly who you were. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since he laid his eyes on you last month. Your spitfire attitude had spread through the office and you’d made quite a name for yourself. Cutting impressive deals and smart talking anyone who tried to shoot you down. The only thing Jason had lacked was an opportunity to talk to you.

He held up his glass of whiskey and looked down at you, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, “A toast”, he leaned down towards you, his hot breath fanned across your cheek, “To Y/N”, his voice dipped lower, a gravelly rasp, “The most beautiful, enticing woman in the room”.

“You forgot to add smart”, your voice sounded more breathy than you intended, giving Jason an idea of the effect he was having over you.

He winked, “The most beautiful, enticing, smart mouthed woman in the room”.

“To me”.

You clinked your glass with his before bringing it to your lips, taking a long sip. The alcohol burnt your throat in the best way, the deep red of your lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Jason couldn’t help but stare at the smudge, wondering if it would stain as nicely on his skin.

Downing the drink in one, Jason placed the glass on the bar, the bartender rushed over quickly, leaving the bottle of red wine next to Jason before scurrying off. Your tongue darting across your lips, savouring the taste of the luxurious drink.

Jason watched you closely, you felt alive under his burning stare, “I hope you’re enjoying working for The Iceberg Lounge”.

“Of course, Sir”.

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his lips. The way you said it. The way your lips wrapped around the word Sir, how easily it rolled off your tongue. He took a deep breath. You riled him up with little to no effort.

You glanced around the gala, almost everyone from The Iceberg had turned up. Hundreds of people were braying in the room. Dancing, drinking, laughing and screeching. The music thudded in the background, the bass thrumming through your body. You had to hand it to Jason, he certainly knew how to host a company party. Well a man in charge of a chain of bars should really.

Jason gripped the bottle of wine swiftly, “It's getting rather lively in here princess, fancy a drink and a smoke on the balcony?”.

You nodded, grabbing your clutch from the bar. You sashayed through the crowd easily, Jason following close behind you. Slinking through the throes of people, you smirked to yourself. You were playing with fire but, you had to admit, you liked the heat that came with it.

———

When you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze whipped around your body, nipping the bare skin on show. You shuddered slightly, looking up at the night sky. You were high enough that you could finally see the stars. They twinkled innocently, making you smile to yourself.

Jason placed the bottle of red on a nearby table, looking across at you. You looked even more stunning under the midnight stars. He coughed deeply, working his way across to the railing you were leaning against, “I’m surprised that you came alone, I find it hard to believe you struggled to get a date”.

You turned to him, your chandelier earrings dangling in the breeze, they captured the starlight and flickered elegantly, “I like coming to these things alone”, you mused, a coy smirk on your painted lips, “I like to see who else has come alone”.

“Oh”, he inched closer, the soft brush of his suit jacket against your bare arm made you flush, “So you’re on the lookout?”.

“Maybe”, your fingers wrapped around the metal bar and you looked over the edge. The bustle of Gotham City never ceased to amaze you, even at this height. And there you were, gazing at it with its unofficial Prince standing next to you.

Jason grinned, letting a cool finger stroke down your upper arm, “I might be able to help with that”.

You smirked, looking up catching his heated stare, “Are you going to introduce me to one of your rich friends?”.

“Trust me princess, they’re not your type”, he scoffed, his eyes tracing down the neckline of your dress, mapping every inch of your tantalising skin. He noticed a faint sparkle of glitter on your skin, along with a subtle scent of vanilla invading his senses.

Moving away from the balcony edge, you stepped into his space, fingers grasping the end of his tie, playing with it gently, “And what is my type?”.

Jason felt an unmatched desire burning in his gut when your hands toyed with his tie. He took a deep breath before cornering you into the balcony railing. His eyes were hooded with lust, “I know exactly what it is”.

The bitter metal pressed into your lower back and you bit back the moan creeping up your throat, desperate to escape. You snaked your hand up his solid chest and straightened out his shirt collar, “Well don't keep me in suspense, Sir”.

It was taking all of his self restraint not to bend you over the balcony and rail you from behind, especially when you kept calling him Sir. His hands gripped the balcony bar behind you, knuckles white from the force. Jason smirked, his voice dropping several octaves, “I can show you instead princess”.

The heat from his body was addictive and you leaned into it without thinking, breath catching in your throat. His aftershave was intoxicating and you felt your mind spinning. Jason pulled back suddenly and offered you his hand.

You slipped your hand into his and bit your plump bottom lip, “People are going to see us leaving together”.

“So?”, Jason shrugged, “Then they know we're going to have some fun, aren't we princess?”.

You shivered, letting his words drip over you. Oh the night was yet to begin and your heart was thrumming with excitement. You secured your fingers through his and started to pull him back inside so you could both leave.

“Of course Sir”.

The second you were back inside, Jason’s free hand wound around your waist, guiding you towards the elevators. He leaned down, hot breath fanning down your sensitive neck, “Yours or mine?”.

You pressed the down button on the lift pad a little more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You felt him smirk behind you, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Mine”, you whispered before slipping into the cart when the doors sprung open.

———

The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with subtle touches and increasing tension. You’d expected Jason to pounce on you the second you slid into the backseat but he didn’t, simply keeping one arm around your shoulder, the other resting on your exposed knee drawing feather light circles.

“Keep the change”, Jason muttered, shoving a wad of cash through the divider before helping you out of the car.

His hand pressed into your lower back, rough fingers scraping against your soft skin. You shuddered, excited to feel his touch exploring the rest of your body. You led him through the marble floored lobby and up a flight of stairs, stopping outside of your door to retrieve your keys from your clutch.

His lips pressed into the junction of your neck, tongue lapping over your skin which flushed rapidly under his touch, “Hurry up princess”. You felt Jason’s hand stroke up the front of your dress, palming your breast greedily before pinching your nipple.

You gasped at the rush of sensations, almost dropping your keys. The overload of his touches made you shudder and your eyes close, head dipping forward.

“Unless you want me to fuck you out here for everyone to see, I suggest you get that door open”, he growled, lips teasing the shell of your ear. His cock was straining against his suit trousers as he brushed it against your ass, groaning quietly.

Steadying your hands and your frayed mind, you slotted the key into your door, opening it as quickly as possible. Before you had any time to think, Jason crushed you against it, slamming it shut, his lips plastered to yours in a frenzied heat.

You moaned, the noise swallowed by his mouth as his tongue glided along yours. He could still taste the wine on your lips, mingling with your own sweet flavour. You dropped your bag and ran your hands up his chest, reaching his tie. Tugging it hard, you loosened it, enough to free him of it and start unbuttoning his shirt.

Jason smirked and sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, enjoying the gasp of pleasure you released. You looked into his darkened gaze, giving him a sweet innocent smile before pushing him back against the hallway wall. His eyebrows lifted in surprise but he allowed you control, stroking the pads of his fingers up and down your spine.

With the last button popped open, your nails dragged down to his belt, unfastening it slowly, licking your lips.

“I bet this is what you thought about didn’t you?”, you teased, unzipping his trousers and pushing them down, slowly, “Me on my knees for you, swallowing your thick cock”.

You palmed him through his boxers, watching his face twist with held back desire. Your lips curved and you dropped to your knees, eye level with his hard shaft.

Jason groaned quietly, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tighter when your lips ghosted over the outline of his throbbing cock.

“Princess”, he warned huskily, voice laced heavy with lust.

The stings of pain as he pulled your hair shot down to your core, lighting up all of your nerves. You mewled and mouthed his tip, “I thought about it too…Sir”.

His hips rutted towards your face at your words and you grinned. You pulled his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock sprung free, slapping against his rippled abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, aching for him to sink into both your throat and pussy.

You nipped along his thick, muscled thighs, your lipstick smearing as you neared his pulsing length. He tensed with each bite and growled loudly, cock twitching with excitement.

“Princess if you keep-”, the words died in his throat when the wet heat of your mouth encased his cock in one swift motion. His head flung back, eyes scrunched shut at the feeling.

You purred around his shaft, tongue fluttering along the underside, tracing the vein there. Your hands stroked up and down his thighs as you worked your lips around him. Bobbing your head back and forth.

Each time you whined around him, the vibrations buzzed up his spine, sending his mind into a delirious haze of pleasure.

“Fuck!”, he grunted and fisted his hands into your hair, thrusting forward into your hot mouth.

The head of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged around his cock, whimpering with desire. He caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes black with passion.

“Your lips look perfect wrapped around my big cock”, he smirked and thrust harder into your mouth, the wet, sinful sounds echoing in the hallway of your apartment.

Your pussy was soaked and each time you shuffled, the lace of your thong rubbed against your clit. The sensation made your skin flush but it wasn’t enough. You needed him.

Jason sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you swallow his cock. Your once perfect lipstick was smudged all over your mouth. Some stained his length. He groaned as you pulled back, tracing your tongue over the slit of his tip, hands kneading his inner thighs perfectly.

“Sir-please…”, your voice was raw as you spoke, wide eyes searching his, “I want you”.

He let his thumb run over your bottom lip, enjoying the way your lips wrapped around it without second thought, sucking softly. Jason dipped it down your chin before hooking it underneath, “Come here”.

You stood slowly, adjusting the strap of your dress which had fallen down your arm. Jason bracketed your hips and lifted you easily, letting your toned legs wrap around his waist. His lips moulded to yours, kissing you deeply. He could faintly taste himself on your tongue, the bitter arousal sparking through his body.

———

He carried you with ease through your apartment, occasionally banging into things along the way.

“Second d-door”, you moaned loudly when he bit your shoulder, “on the-the right”.

When you finally made it into your bedroom, after several stops along the way with Jason shoving you into the nearest wall, he dropped you down onto the bed.

You inched up the bedding slowly, watching him with hooded eyes as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. You made no show of hiding how much you admired his finely sculpted body. You licked your lips as his muscles flexed when he knelt onto the bed, grabbing one of your ankles.

“You’re wearing too many clothes”, he complained as his fingers travelled up your bare leg before finally reaching the hem of the dress.

“What are you going to do-”, the tear of fabric was loud in the room, Jason’s face was knitted with desire.

“Jason!!”, you scolded loudly as he continued to rip the flimsy material off your body, leaving you bare beneath him in a skimpy lace thong. You watched as he threw the offending material to the floor, his predatory gaze turning back to you.

“Get on your knees”, he commanded, ignoring your protests about your once beautiful dress, “Now”.

You wanted to argue, but the twisting coil in the pit of your stomach made you comply readily. You saw his pleased smirk before you rested your head against your forearms, pressing your ass and core to him.

He whistled appreciatively, slapping his hand over one of your cheeks. You moaned wantonly, muffling your cries into the flesh of your arm.

“Don’t you dare”, he growled and spanked you harder, your skin becoming hot and prickly, “I want to hear every sound you make”.

The thong you had on framed your ass perfectly, barely covering your glistening pussy. He smoothed two fingers through your silken core, sinking them into you slowly. Jason grunted when your walls tried to pull him further.

He removed his hand and spread your wetness along the back of your thigh, pushing your thong to the side. You whined in protest at the loss of sensation and pushed back. Jason gripped your hips tightly, halting your movement, “Tell me what you want princess”.

Heat crept over your flushed skin as he teased you, the tip of his cock sweeping through your sopping folds. You ignored his question and circled your hips, mewling his name.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back forcefully, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, “I said, tell me what you want”.

“Your cock”, your moans were depraved as you felt the overload of euphoria thrumming through your veins, “I want you to fuck me”.

Jason kissed the spot behind your ear, sucking a mark there before muttering, “Where are your manners princess?”.

You dug your nails into the sheets below in frustration before panting desperately, “Please Sir, please fuck me”.

He chuckled darkly behind you, tugging your hair again, before sinking his cock into your pussy fully. You cried out at the delicious sting as he stretched your walls with his thick girth.

Jason gave you no time to adjust before slamming his hips back into yours harshly, keeping your hair wound around his fist as he thrust into you.

The air was filled with the sounds of your debauched moans and his skin slapping into yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your first orgasm hit you without any warning.

Jason cursed behind you as your velvet walls spasmed around his cock, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became shallow as he drove harder into you, working you through your climax.

Changing the angle of his thrusts, the head of his shaft slammed against your g spot repeatedly as he ploughed faster into your pussy. You sobbed his name into the bed sheets, gripping them tightly. You were certain your nails were going to rip through the fabric.

“That’s it princess”, he coaxed, tugging your hair back, “I know you’ve got another one for me”. He snaked his hand around your front, rubbing over your clit furiously.

“Jason!”, you cried his name loudly, vision going blank as he fucked you into another powerful climax. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as he fell into his own release, emptying himself in your tight core.

“Fuck!”, he rasped, releasing your hair and holding onto your hips as his thrusts slowed down to a complete still.

Pulling out of you, he groaned under his breath as he saw some of his seed drip down your folds. You collapsed down onto the bed, flat on your front, fighting to catch your breath. Jason dropped down next to you, relaxing on his back, his own chest heaving with deep pants.

You hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time. If ever. With the last of your energy, you rolled onto your side, a sly grin on your face, “Got time for another?”. Your fingers stroked down the grooves of his abs, following the dark trail of hair.

Jason grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, nipping at the pulse on your wrist, “Definitely”.

He pulled you on top of him, his hands moving up to cup your breasts as your lips danced together again, drinking in each other. You knew he would only be here for the night but, you’d be damned if you weren’t going to make the most of it.

***

#jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #ceo!jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader insert

[sickgraymeat]

Bonnie was not assigned a gender at birth but her concept of gender is so heavily based on her perception of human society and the narratives she creates around its ruins like. She is a woman by her own definition, informed by her interpretations of old human stuff, because who else could have defined “woman” for her???? Being a woman, to her, means being powerful and creative and taking care of your loved ones. Not to mention, there’s no way that little tadpole nub just grew into a human shape!!!!! She made herself look like her perception of a human woman/girl On Purpose!!!!! Gender is a puzzle and a series of observations, just like everything else about people and relationships and society. So like. Yeah when she first encountered the expectation that women/girls should have boyfriends, she trashed those magazines for her rat to shit on like any ambitious tween lesbian piece of gum would!!! But then someone she created herself reinforced that expectation, and then so did so many other people, and maybe she thought she had no choice or maybe she felt guilty or maybe she was just tired.

But again. We are all just fucking playing with little dolls in the game of life or whatever. Some more than others (……………… yeah Bonnie lol) BUT LISTEN gender is obviously a construct that we understand first and foremost through observation BUT our (or at least 20th century/PW’s generation’s) human perception of gender and the characters’ observations and interpretations do it are so goddamn important to every single character in this show. They are all performing a role and a big part of that role is gender. Once again BMO is the most flexible about this performance because BMO is the most childlike (emotionally/mentally youngest in this case bc obvs many children develop awareness and self consciousness around gender roles very very young) and therefore the least bothered by society’s expectations!!! Just like in real life!!!!

To start out, all Bonnie knows of femininity and womanhood is that mothers are women, and princesses are girls, and mothers and princesses are powerful and caring. And then she finds out that girls and women are supposed to have boyfriends, and that seems really wrong to her, but she has to be a girl/woman because she is a mother and a princess to the extent that she understands those roles!! Meaning not 100% in line with the human definition (mothers don’t raise their children the mammal way, princesses are inherently the highest rulers of their kingdoms) but rather based on her perception of it. Which like GET THIS!!!!! Our perceptions of human definitions of gender and societal roles ARE the definitions of those things!!!!!!!!! I wanna scream abt it it’s so fuckign interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway tangent but in conclusion Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum is the most transgender character ever to NOT actually have any gender assigned at birth to be transing (unless the MG whispered it to her ig) and that’s just how cool she is!!

#adventure time #princess bubblegum #bonnibel bubblegum #obvs this is autistic!bonnie #but since I have cptsd and it overlaps a whole lot I will also say extremely cptsd!bonnie #definitely both #this is so important to me I should edit it better but I’m too excited lol #jus talkin #mine

[scintillyyy]

like the thing about making janet power hungry and vicious and cold and scary/terrifying and the idea that tim gets all his calculating and terrifying traits from her is that 1) it is the thinnest veiled refrigerator mother trope ever, let us leave that misogynistic nonsense in the 40s and 50s where it didn't belong, but it existed and 2) though it is *so* often used in an outright misogynistic way, even the attempts to frame tim getting his viciousness from her in a positive way leans heavily into misogynistic ideals where the only good woman mother is one whose traits are cold and logical and thereby "manly" (dare i say....male character coded?) in a way that *does* devalue traits like empathy & compassion & caring as strong traits to learn from the source of a female character.

(and let me make it clear! i don't believe these traits are male vs female in real life, of course humans are complex and show a wide range of characteristics and women aren't inherently emotional and men aren't inherently logical. it's just within fiction, it's very telling that the way to make a female character strong is often, lazily, just to give her traits that are usually associated with male characters instead and call that a day. because why make a woman emotional and strong when you could just get rid of all those pesky traditionally feminine coded traits instead #feminism#genderneutralmeansmaleright)

so like, you have janet. and basically before she dies, she is explicitly shown as the more emotional parent before she dies given her two appearances are

she's very visibly the only person in the audience crying at witnessing the tragic death of the flying graysons

she's crying at the terror of being kidnapped

and yea, janet being cast as the more emotional one to jack's firm resolve reeks of good ole 80s sexism (women are hysterical, right?), but when you try to remediate that by making her a cold, vicious, terrifying Strong Woman instead you have just horseshoed around to perform sexism in a different way. why are all her more emotional traits such as caring, compassion, fear removed to make her tim's vicious rol model instead? why aren't those traits seen as good, strong traits for tim to get from her instead? why does his cold viciousness have to his female role models? why is is that when a woman is made to be a strong character positive or negative, the answer is always to make her cold emotionally?

(well, we know why)

#janet drake #'what if janet was an absolute shark that terrified men & tim learned how to shame business partners from her-' #'what if her treatment of people was a sharp as her nails and tim admired this-' #what if she could be both competent and immensely kind have u considered. #what if traits such as empathy and compassion were considered strong and admirable in female characters

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: Uma Thurman as Ellen Claremont + her accent (under the cut)

>> BTS: Taylor on working with Uma

via Variety:

In McQuiston’s novel, Claremont reads as an alternate reality version of Hillary Clinton, but López strove to differentiate the character from current female politicians. “So many women in politics are asked, it seems, to sacrifice whatever their idea of femininity is in favor of an exchange for power,” he says. “It was so important to me that this was a woman who could hold both things — that she could be a powerful woman who also presented her own femininity in the world without apologies.”

From Gay Times:

For López, it was important to cast an actor who “you would actually vote for president”. “We did a list of all the people that we thought would work in this role and Uma was always at the top of it,” he reveals. “We sent her the script and she wanted to meet with me, which was great for me! I figured, even if she doesn’t do the movie I get to have a Zoom with Uma Thurman.”  Thurman was heavily involved in the creative process from the beginning, arriving at her and Lopez’s first meeting with “so many thoughts about the character”. “She had actually studied the script. We both realised that we were interested in the same thing,” continues Lopez, which was telling the story of a woman who is the president and a mother, “who is powerful but retains her sense of femininity”. The director highlights the harmful trope “in American culture” of women in power being “asked to deny their femininity”. “Both Uma and I were interested in creating a woman on-screen who did not feel like she had to make that sacrifice,” he says. “Once we realised that we wanted the same thing, it became very easy for her to say yes, which I’m grateful for.” 

ML via Collider:

From the day I first encountered her, as a moviegoer, I’ve just loved her. It was a real blessing to have her there with us. She came to this film with the exact same set of desires for the character that I had. We had a lot of conversations about how, in American politics, women in power often have to sacrifice their understanding of their own femininity, in order to attain and hold onto power. What was most important to her and I was that Ellen can both be powerful and maintain her definition of femininity for herself. I included Uma in conversations about costume design, production design, and of the oval office set. When she walked onto the set, I have never encountered a more prepared actor. She understood, implicitly. She already understood why every piece of furniture was chosen for her. She understood why every article of clothing was there. It was a master class in prepared acting. She really rose, and she brought everybody’s game up.

ML via OutSFL:

I adore her [Uma Thurman]. She was so very happy to be in this movie, which was so wonderful. She really understood Ellen. She and I had so many wonderful conversations about her before production. I involved her in a lot of costume design decisions. She was really wanting to understand this woman holistically.

>> UMA'S ACCENT

via Variety:

“Red, White & Royal Blue” was already a few weeks into production in the U.K. when Thurman reached out to Lopéz so the director could hear her perform as Alex’s mother, President Ellen Claremont, for the first time. McQuiston envisioned Claremont as a fiery Democrat from Texas, so Thurman worked with dialect coach Tim Monich on a buttery Texas drawl that has become one of the standout features of the film. “And I was like, ‘Uma, it sounds great,’” López says of their first Zoom conference. “And she says, ‘Are you sure?’ And I’m like, ‘I think so.’ But I was also very distracted. Then she gets on set and I finally listen to her. I’m like, Okay, we’re good, we’re good. We’re very, very good.”

ML via Windy City Times:

Uma came in so prepared and so eager to be there. She was happy to be a part of it and we just had the best time with her. It was a very happy set and that is thanks to Uma in many ways, too. 

#rwrbedit #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #uma thurman #ellen claremont #taylor zakhar perez #tzp #bts #rwrb bts #rwrbbts #*

[magentagalaxies]

making my own post bc i have thoughts and i don't want to keep having to go back and forth with tags and replies on someone else's post:

anyway original post i started this conversation on: @charlotterenaissance

my tag essay:

@liliana-von-k's reply:

(all this context is bc i have even more thoughts so i thought i should make my own post)

anyway to respond to that i 100% agree!! it also reminds me of something from my very first conversation with bruce (when we did a zoom interview before we knew each other) which idk if i've posted this aspect of before: i forget what my exact question was but i essentially brought up this kind of paradigm the KITH's female characters are often discussed in and how it's kind of strange comparing it to the actual representation of female characters in the show. like, sure dave "passes" the most as a conventionally-attractive female character, but also i'd honestly say any of the kids in the hall can pass as female, not even just from a genderqueer perspective but from a not all women are "conventionally attractive" perspective. like i know cis women who have a jawline like bruce's or a nose like scott's or any other feature that isn't seen as "feminine" from (often white-eurocentric) beauty standards and many of them are gorgeous.

and the fact that KITH's female characters are often discussed through a lens of "who plays the best woman" (meaning the one who "passes" according to beauty standards) is as frustrating as it is fascinating bc i really do think it points to the way the media tries to comprehend this gender nonconformity and shove it into a box they can understand. because the kids in the hall have already destroyed the most obvious box their female characters could be put in - yes, they are male comedians, but even though the most often way society rationalizes men dressing femininely is as a comedic act (whether as a man purposefully trying to elicit comedy via feminine actions and dress or via a man who genuinely enjoys feminine expression being made an object of ridicule via comedy), the kids in the hall break this framework (this "binary", if you will) by being comedians who are in control of the audience's laughter, but playing their femininity as genuine. you don't laugh with them at their femininity because they do not laugh at femininity, but you also can't make their femininity the subject of ridicule because their position as comedians means they are at once in on the joke and steering the joke in another direction. this technique is more subtextual (and likely subconscious) in the portrayal of female characters, but it's a tactic scott knowingly (and expertly) employs when playing buddy cole

so since the "men in dresses equals comedy" box is eliminated, cishet society feels the need to create another box for them to rationalize this gender nonconformity in, by attributing it to a spectacle other than humor. so they decide to instead view these gender transgressions through the lens of beauty and sexual attractiveness. this also helps rationalize any confusing attraction a cishet person has to one of the kids in the hall dressed as a woman - they pass too well, or at least whichever one you're attracted to (most often dave) does. making a spectacle of the kids in the hall playing women eliminates any confusion or implications that maybe gender and sexuality isn't as rigid as we think, by othering these performers as a special case and convincing yourself that there is no real woman who looks like dave foley in drag, and if there was she would be cis.

it's a slightly better box to be in than having the femininity be the target of ridicule, but it still misses the point that the femininity explored in kids in the hall is not meant to be othered. it leaves out so many of the show's most iconic female characters - fran is not glamorous, but she is a realistic woman. chicken lady is more chicken than lady, but she is still a well-written female character - and reduces others to their attractiveness when the sketch itself is not about that at all. and when i brought this up to bruce he sounded as though he had been waiting for someone to make this analysis, because even though the guys joke about it themselves it is at times uncomfortable to be in an interview that focuses so much on how the interviewer finds dave in drag sexy, or picking apart which physical aspect of the guys passes best. i think i remember bruce saying something to the effect of "no one's asking which one of us is the most hot playing a business man, but that's just as different of a person from us as playing a woman"

and it's interesting to think about this in the context of how the media in general treats people who identify as women in this framework of focusing on physical attractiveness all the time. in recent years, this behavior is more widely known to be sexist af so the overtness has declined (tho is it absolutely still present to some degree), but since the kids in the hall are all male it's fair game to make these sorts of comments about their female characters to their face, because it's spectacle and separate from them. even the exact same people who would call out a comment being made about a cis female comedian are often oblivious of how it could potentially apply to these male comedians, or have other bizarre lines within their ability to rationalize this gender nonconformity for themselves.

take the "wedding dresses" sketch that was censored from the amazon revival for example (this sketch was showcased at sketchfest's "scenes they wouldn't let us do" and has appeared in kith live shows since 2015). this sketch was censored because even though amazon would let the guys play women (and even then it was often an uphill battle), they would not let the wedding dresses sketch air because it featured men wearing wedding dresses in a comedic setting. the rule of thumb seemingly is: men wearing dresses is always comedic (and therefore transphobic), unless he (typically dave foley) passes too well, in which case trans people have nothing to do with the conversation. but the fact that they were men dressed femininely was never the point of the joke, it was the idea of a wedding dress, a significant garment symbolizing an event meant to be only worn for one day, being these guys' everyday wear and all the conflicts and community that came from that. it was an ode to the outsiders, a celebration of those who live and present unconventionally. and the fact that it's never about gender is in itself the most upliftingly genderqueer thing of all.

#time for a jessay #disclaimer the views expressed are my own and not bruce's i'm just saying bruce was part of this conversation and agreed with most points #i did not realize i had all of these opinions but now i'm like damn this might be my favorite jessay i've written #tempted to send it to my professor lmao #also never thought i'd be calling chicken lady a feminist icon but y'know what i am #kids in the hall #scott thompson #mark mckinney #kevin mcdonald #bruce mcculloch #dave foley #david foley #kith #queer #buddy cole

[wishmaster]

My GF wants to get us into drag but I'm not sure. What if I look ugly? And what will she wear?

What a Drag

I have just the thing will guarantee both of you look good as the opposite sex. I had you two pairs of leather pants, a favorite enchanted item around here.

But as long as you both wear these items you'll stay the opposite sex.

Excited you rush how. Your girlfriend is there waiting, you hand her the more manly pants assuming they'd grant her manly attributes. Excited you strip right there, sliding you somewhat small and feminine looking pants. As you pull them on your body begins to tingle. One the pants pass over your feet you notice how small and dainty your feet ae now, same happens with you legs, it's when you reach your ass the real changes take shape.

Boom as soon as they reach your waste the new you takes shape, you ass becomes curvy and beautiful, you buckle over grabbing you legs, the leather has become like a second skin, boots appear raising you up past you smalle stature, as you stand back up you see your bulge disappear, unlike drag, yoou were becoming 100 percent woman. It hit you as you stood straight up and your massive tits shot ot.

The slightest touch of them got you so horny, you loved it, getting to feel what your girl must have felt.

It was her turn next, she wasn't as dramatic with her changing of clothes, she pulled them on and zipped them, the power of her change sending her flying back on the ground.

Lying there was a gorgeous young man, ripped body and massive bulge in his pants, you felt yourself becoming aroused and wet, you knew you needed to try out these forms to get a better feel, it'd be hours till the drag show, and even so in these forms who'd believe we were drag performers. No sex was definitely on the menu. A tag fell to the ground off of the new outfits it read.

Caution new forms are highly aroused and fertile, having sex in new forms has the ability to cause pregnancy which will void the wish causing individuals to become stuck in their new forms.

Really you think even if they had read that they could have denied themselves the amazing sex they were experiencing?

#body transformation #cursed object #male to female #gender swap #female to male #trapped

[shadowsandsunset]

I wish nothing but good things for Oliver Stark and Lou Ferrigno Jr.

They gave us such an authentic, gentle, tender experience. I've watched the clip of that kiss several dozen times now.

Oliver, especially, has been amazing in his interviews and social media posts, empathetic and honest and sweet. I don't know his sexuality and I don't speculate in real people's sexualities, but regardless he seems like a true ally. He seems to Get It.

As someone who came out later in life** it really touches my heart what they're doing.

9-1-1 has always seemed to try to do good by their queer characters and I really appreciate that.

Hen and Karen have always been a fantastic and very real feeling example of a wlw relationship.

This show is doing amazing. I wish nothing but good and happy things for the cast and crew who make this happen.

**Under the cut is my coming out/self acceptance story if you're interested.

Tw: repression, self harm, drug use, shitty relationships both familial and romantic.

I tried to come out as a teenager in the early 2000s after I kissed a girl for the first time. It did not go well.

My mother was a complicated woman and she loved me very much, but when I told her I was bi (I prefer pan now but at the time I didn't have that word) she told me it was a phase and that she was disappointed, that she would always love me but that it was wrong in the eyes of God and she couldn't accept it.

Disappointing my mother was worse than her being angry. It felt like my heart was carved out of my chest. I feel like if she had been angry or openly cruel I could have fought back, but her sadness destroyed me. I was 16 then and I continued to live at home until I was 24. I'm in my mid/late 30s now.

So I repressed that part of myself for well over a decade and spent a lot of time depressed and miserable. I self harmed and did A LOT of drugs. I'm clean now except for super occasional weed use. I have a lot of scars from self harm.

My mom died several years ago and it wasn't until after her death that I allowed myself to even think about it, any of it. I was in a relationship with a man for eight years that was loving but he was an alcoholic and I had to walk on eggshells around him because of his mental health struggles; he was emotionally abusive but in a way that was only apparent in hindsight. I thought that my relationship with him was as good as I was going to get. We broke up not long after my mom died.

The only family member I am out to is my older sister, who has been amazing and accepting and loves me completely. Without her support I would be lost.

I have now dated/hooked up with women, men, nb and trans people. I have explored my own gender identity (it's whatever, I don't feel like a woman despite having the female equipment and appearing female in body, I feel pretty masculine but not like a man either, and I don't have strong opinions on pronouns, but I feel like I fail at femininity and masculinity in equal measure so I call myself genderqueer. I don't have any desire to take hormones or have any surgeries, I just want to be a person without having to perform gender).

I live in a conservative small city in the US south and I feel disconnected from the wider queer community. I don't know how to bridge that gap. There is a small queer community here but you can't really be openly out and be safe.

I'll be going to my first pride event this June. I'm excited and terrified because I don't feel like I'm queer enough or The Right Kind of queer, which is such a stupid stress to have, but I don't have many friends to talk about this with and I am hoping to get out there and make some but I'm nervous. I'm socially awkward and kinda weird. I'm also single and trying to mingle, lol.

I like who I am now but it was an incredibly difficult road to get to this place. I'm still on that journey, and maybe I always will be but that's ok. I'm finally myself.

#911 abc #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #being queer #coming out #self acceptance #my life

[bimtheory]

Trying to watch Marilyn Monroe films again because I feel like it's impossible to write a book about bimbos and not mention Marilyn, but it's proving to be difficult.

I'm trying my best, but I just can't figure out what people find special about her. And it's so hard to find any sort of truth. There are so many made up quotes and misconceptions just to further this narrative of Marilyn as the ultimate victim, people treat her like a martyr. If she's not being discussed and treated as a sex symbol she's being used as a symbol for tragedy, and would Marilyn even want that?

In a 1962 interview published by Life Magazine a day before her death, she had this to say:

"I don’t mind being burdened with being glamorous and sexual. But what goes with it can be a burden. Like the man was going to show me around but the woman said, “Off the premises.” I feel that beauty and femininity are ageless and can’t be contrived, and glamour, although the manufacturers won’t like this, cannot be manufactured. Not real glamour, it’s based on femininity. I think that sexuality is only attractive when it’s natural and spontaneous. This is where alot of them miss the boat. And then something I’d just like to spout off on. We are all born sexual creatures, thank God, but it’s a pity so many people despise and crush this natural gift. Art, real art, comes from it, everything. I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That’s the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing. But if I’m going to be a symbol of something I’d rather have it sex than some other things they’ve got symbols of! These girls who try to be me, I guess the studios put them up to it, or they get the ideas themselves. But gee, they haven’t got it. You can make alot of gags about it like they haven’t got the foreground or else they haven’t the background. But I mean the middle, where you live."

And, later in the interview:

"It might be a kind of relief to be finished. It’s sort of like, I don’t know, what kind of a yard dash you’re running, but then you’re at the finish line and you sort of see you’ve made it! But you never have. You have to start all over again. But I believe you’re always as good as your potential. I now live in my work and in a few relationships with the few people I can really count on. Fame will go by and, so long, I’ve had you fame. If it goes by, I’ve always known it was fickle. So at least it’s something I experienced, but that’s not where I live."

None of this is paraphrased. And, personally, it sounds to me like she rather be remembered for being a sexy actress than whatever this is:

But a lot of people who claim to be Marilyn Monroe fans or even just mention her don't seem to care about or have any actual interest in her. Unfortunately, I think Andrew Dominik may have been right in that (most) people are not watching her films. I have friends that won't even touch movies from before 1980, let alone the 50s. And watching the clip of her performing Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend on YouTube is not watching one of her movies.

Marilyn is invoked when people want to a sort of classy sexuality, or beautiful "feminine" tragedy, which is bullshit.

But anyway, like I was saying, I don't get the appeal. And it's hard to find any writing approaching her honestly and critically instead of constant "she was a perfect angel that could do no wrong"-tier glazing. I don't mean to be rude; I have nothing against her, and her life did seem tragic in some respects, but it always feels like the praise outweighs the reality of the material. Like people felt bad having been so judgmental about her after the circumstances of her death that they overshot trying to make up for it and Marilyn became indicative of the tragedy and mistreatment of every woman, a myth that has been passed down for generations at this point.

I don't know. That's just how it seems to me. I read people talk about how great of an actress she really was, but I don't see it, and people conveniently always forget to explain how she was a good actress or what made her so great, just "she trained at The Actor's Studio!", a lot of actors did.

#bimtheory #bimbo theory #marilyn monroe

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough, Ch 1

Welcome to the Northanger Abbey Readthrough, October 2023! I will be posting one chapter per day, which will take us right to Halloween. This readthrough does contain spoilers, because I can't help myself.

We begin with the advertisement from the author, who is clearly annoyed that her first novel was purchased and then not published.

That any bookseller should think it worth-while to purchase what he did not think it worth-while to publish seems extraordinary.

While Jane Austen notes that books have changed, by which I assume she means the popularity of some of the novels referenced, I am pleased to inform you that Anthony Trollope mentioned Mrs. Radcliff and The Mysteries of Udolpho in his 1987 novel, Barchester Towers! Even the veil! So clearly the novels she was satirizing had not yet gone out of style.

On to the story! Catherine Morland is so very normal. The most normal girl ever. She also isn't an orphan, both her parents are living which the narrator points out is very hard for a heroine (lol). She doesn't really like lessons and she likes running around and rolling down hills.

She never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid.

Catherine's indifference to flowers will come up later, but this line is also funny in a forbidden fruit way:

Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief—at least so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take.

This is a great description of an older sibling (I like to think this describes me as an older sister):

very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny

And her family is so good and normal too! Her mom seems to have some good parenting practices:

She learnt a year, and could not bear it; and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off.

The Morland family seems like a strong contrast to the Bennets, both of them employing no governess. We learn that the Morlands are actively invested in their children's education (unlike the Bennets):

Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could.

And even though the older girls are left to "shift for themselves", Mrs. Morland, who is both poorer and has double the children, can be more easily excused for some neglect. She sounds like a slave to the children's education, unlike Mrs. Bennet!

Catherine, a tomboy, begins to become interested in more feminine pursuits, but she does not transform into a great beauty or an accomplished young lady. Her achievements are similar to those of the ordinary person:

So far her improvement was sufficient—and in many other points she came on exceedingly well; for though she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the pianoforte, of her own composition, she could listen to other people’s performance with very little fatigue.

Catherine is just the most relatable heroine ever! She's adequate. She's reasonably intelligent, passingly pretty, a true Every Woman. And really, the whole novel is full of so many small human moments that hit just as hard as the more dramatic ones from other novels (Lucy telling Elinor Edward is engaged to her, Louisa falling from the Cobb, Lydia's elopement) because they are things that might happen to anyone. Really wanting to see your crush and instead having to hang out with someone you dislike; not knowing if someone is angry at you or not; and finding out your friend isn't a real friend... Northanger Abbey somehow explores the most ordinary things without making them boring.

Also, while Catherine may seem unintelligent, the girl must have read a lot of Shakespeare, the quotes in this chapter come from Twelfth Night, Measure for Measure, and Othello. I reluctantly read 5 Shakespearean plays in high school, so Catherine is at about par with my education (I like Shakespeare now! I learned to appreciate him in university when I saw a few of the plays in person).

Catherine is also such a happy, bubbly, character. I can really imagine her being "all happiness" when her parents consent to her trip to Bath. We are told Emma Woodhouse has a happy disposition, but we don't see her dancing in her chair all the way home after a fun evening. Catherine really has joy and she comes back quickly from disappointment. She's a really great character to go on a journey with.

I feel like it must be noted, Catherine has to get away from her family to have an adventure because she has good parents. Good parents are exactly what you want to have, but as the narrator points out, they hardly make a good heroine! So the narrator is forced to remove our nascent heroine from her loving home into the dubious care of the Allens (and really they aren't that bad) for her story to begin. This contrasts again with the Bennets, who manage to supply a good deal of the story's conflict all on their own!

#northanger abbey readthrough #chapter 1 #catherine morland #mrs. morland #the most relatable heroine #The most normal family

[enarei]

I'm sorry, but I don't believe you have even a rudimentary grasp on feminist theory, and could benefit from an education.

maybe you're right, and you're welcome to educate me (like, genuinely, I would probably enjoy that). I would appreciate if you were a bit more specific with what of what I've said makes you think that, because I believe the gist of my argument is very important if not to feminism broadly, to a model of feminism that is capable of incorporating trans women without stabbing them in the back within its critique of patriarchy —namely that there isn't one intrinsic, "natural" female/woman identity or trait that invites misogyny, it's a self-reifying set of relations which creates the necessity for the concept of "womanhood" to exist, performing a woman's roles and being perceived as a woman is what makes women, women, and that includes trans women, there's little more to it than that

if you wanna set yourself apart from everyone and say you're actually a real woman, because you say you are, and dissect the difference from the transfem that doesn't necessarily think of their relation to gender through the same exclusive binary lens, however that manifests in practice, whichever labels and pronouns they choose to use, then do so, but I think you'll find that gets us no closer to examining why we are actually oppressed and the ideas we have to disseminate to counter that, because that line, while important for self-actualization, isn't actually very relevant to how we're perceived, which is often the most important aspect of how we're treated by society. while we can affirm our personal identity in relationships that are both recurring and premised on mutual respect, we don't get that privilege most of the time, and people's understanding of us are based on assumptions.

it does not matter then that you ID as a woman and the other person doesn't if you never get the opportunity to say that, it's completely irrelevant. if you are both read as <genderweird person dressed like a woman & male voice>, you're both legitimate targets for modes of violence for people associated with the words "tranny faggot".

I also find this very disingenuous because it ignores that passing, presenting as our preferred gender, isn't always a possibility, likewise, the implication that "men" by necessity can't be discriminated for gender non-conformity under exactly the same rules as non-passing trans women is completely arbitrary. you don't know how other people are being read, you don't know if they're being read as a gay man or a tranny trying to hide the fact they're tranny, or something in between, how okay the interviewer is with either and where do they draw the line. you simply don't know that! we could run the same thought experiment where a trans woman is boymoding for a job interview, wearing a binder to hide her tits (something I've done countless times), using her deadname and not displaying any signs of femininity, and she gets the job and the "man" who has a panty wearing kink and maybe also presents a lot more overtly effeminate in public doesn't, because the interviewer thought she was less of a faggot.

even if the "man" may have an easier time concealing what you would call a "fetish" at work, something you can't really distinguish from a normal aspect of a person's gender expression without a degree of moralism, are trans women that are not always out, or hide their transness at their job, not subjected to transmisogyny, are they not deserving of calling themselves trans women? should we shun them and lump them with "chasers" because they are not baring their femininity full time and being pummeled for that constantly? like, where do you draw the line? and I'm not saying the guy who likes to wear his wife's skirt while she pegs him and is otherwise a massive homophobe the rest of the time gets it like you or me, but I think it's pretty obtuse to pretend the line between "binary trans woman" and "non-trans CAMAB person who cross-dresses; whose oppression should be understood under the framing of transmisogyny", can only be measured by those two points.

#gender

[sadrockandwaltzes]

Macbeth

My teacher is trying to argue that the character of Lady Macbeth is supposed to be a warning story about a woman who defies her gender role and dies for it. This kind of bothers me.

Looking it up, it seems that many sites and essay seem to have a similar opinion. Personally though, I think the play is a little more feminist/attacking gender roles.

You could argue that the problem in the play was the strict gender roles that characters were placed in. Lady Macbeth felt stifled in her role as a woman, and wasn't able to perform the most important duty of a woman at that time- having a baby. Her restrictions on what she could be, especially since she couldn't perform her female role either, led to her resentment of femininity and weakness. In her husband, she saw all the potential to do and be the things she couldn't become, and resented him for squandering his privilege. She made to live through him by orchestrating his ascension to the throne and assuming that this would allow her more power. It didn't though.

Through her berating of her husband and him being encouraged to go forward in his ambition, greed, and violence, (to be a man, as his wife put it- a hard standard that most men feel compelled to try to prove themselves as) he lost himself and all the good qualities in him. What she saw as femininity and weakness was actually his heart and loyalty- the things that made him beloved and a good soldier and friend. The thing that made King Duncan a good King. While trying to use her husband to elevate herself, she failed to recognize her effect on him, and the kind husband she had married turned on her. He was crowned, and she still wasn't happy or felt like she was more powerful. She started to wonder if all the actions she had taken were worth it. Nothing in her life had improved, and by using masculinity against her husband, she had actually made both of their lives worse. Realizing all of this, she suddenly felt the full weight of her emotions and guilt which had previously been buried under her anger and ambition. She repressed her emotions for so long that they caused her to hallucinate, and in a fit of madness, she killed herself.

But things with Macbeth weren't good either. He had given up the parts of himself that allowed him to be happy and connect with others, and the toxic masculinity he was engaging with made him constantly paranoid, anticipating fights and seeing enemies everywhere. This was partly because his kindness was sacrificed for his goals, but it was still an innate part of himself, and just re-manifested as guilt. He knew he wasn't supposed to be like this, and he didn't want to be, but he'd gone too far to return, and he knew that the only end for him was death. Even villains were expected to stay strong in their beliefs and not admit fault or apologize. He would be seen as weak, and he would be killed regardless of what he did. So the rest of the play followed with Macbeth playing the waiting game on his death- not allowing himself to just give up, but knowing and dreading the end. His death was also a kind of suicide, but more on the lines of Dally from The Outsiders. He couldn't be seen as weak by killing himself, but he put himself/continued on in a situation that he knew would end in his death.

I don't know that Shakespeare was thinking this hard about it, but it seems to me, the real enemy was the expectations that characters faced on account of their gender. Essentially, the enemy was the patriarchy. At the very least, I think that Shakespeare was a feminist minded guy (as much as anyone could be in his time) as he usually made a point of having strong female characters or giving them death. I believe he had a lot of respect for women, and thus did not sentence LMB to die for being a not womanly woman, but simply to show that not even the villains were safe from the harm they inflicted. And also because people like to see the villain pay their dues. But don't go lumping Billy Shakes with the guy who modeled the villain after his wife who he had issues with

#macbeth #lady macbeth #In defense of a bad main character #feminist reading #great gatsby #william shakespeare #I spent my whole lunch break on this 😅 #should just make a series for school related rants like this #f scott fitzgerald #Teacher grievances

[justablah56]

ee hee @iersei I finished writing another Glenn gender post :3

todays glennder post is specifically abt transfem Glenn , so buckle the fuck up <333 SO I've mentioned before that my person hc is that Glenn was transfem from when she was abouutttt 15-16 ish until Morgan's death p much . She was always sort of gnc before that , being a teen boy who's kinda emo/punk/alt with an absent father will do that to ya . I think for a while he didn't really think it was anything and it was totally normal and not a gender thing when he liked his hair long or his nails painted or a bit of makeup on here and there, he was just a rebellious teen who wanted to look cool . but then I think he started identifying as a demi boy at first, like yeah I'm not cis , but I'm still a guy , right ? (wrong) through their teenage years it slowly morphs into just they/them , not minding he/him , it just wasn't what they used most often . then he meets Morgan . Morgan , known lesbian . at first glenns like yeah wowie were such good friends , plus even if I liked her I'm a guy , a manly man , id have no chance , even if she is so so hot .. but they're like . besties for a few years , and at one point Morgan brings up the idea of crossdressing when they're probably in their early 20s. she mentions she thinks it'd be fun to try a sort of drag-king vibe , and glenns like haha yeah I could be your matching drag queen and Morgan's like 👁️👁️ so they go out to find outfits . Glenn finds some fun black leather dress or smthin like that and puts it on and comes out absolutely grinning . she doesn't think this is a performance , it feels too real . meanwhile Morgan is sitting there's like holy shit that is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen . both of them are seeing *Glenn* for the first time and she's beautifully herself . after that Morgan and Glenn go to a lot of dress/skirt shops . I think Glenn does really like the sort of drag vibe to her femininity though . she just loves the exaggerated makeup and the eccentric outfits and the ridiculously tall heels , and Morgan just thinks she's hot as hell <3 after a bit Glenn goes on estrogen bcs she can and life is good for a while between Glenn and Morgan . I think they do drag together super often , Glenn for the most part just glams herself up , bcs we love a transfem drag queen <3 and Morgan prefers to do more masc drag , and they like to correlate their outfits to match whenever they do it and it's just v sweet <3 I think though , (and I believe I've mentioned this in previous glennder rambles) that as Nick comes along and Glenn is given more responsibility he kinda starts regressing back in his gender journey . Glenn gets kinda ... burnt out . to the point that putting effort into his gender presentation isn't worth it anymore . when they first have Nick she starts using she/they . her and Morgan stop doing drag as often . as Nick grew up it morphed into just they/them , and Glenn didn't want to try to come up with a parent word for themself so they were still "dad". when Morgan died Glenn stopped presenting female completely . to him , he didn't have the time anymore to be worried about that kind of thing , and it was easier to just ... be a guy again . it also had to do with the fact that any of his feminity just reminded him of Morgan bcs he had been with her the whole time , so he couldn't dress up like he used to because every time he tried to dress up he would be turning around expecting to see Morgan's smiling face with her own outfit on , ready to tell her how pretty she looked all dolled up . and then she wasn't there . and that hurt . and as Glenn does , if it causes any kind of negative emotional reaction at all it's better to just shove it into a closet and pretend it doesn't exist , and that's what he does with his silly goofy transed gender . he does still stay on estrogen though , I think . bcs it's the one thing that he's just gotten used to and it would be more difficult to suddenly stop than it is to just keep doing it . he tells himself it's because he doesn't like change . and that's part of it , but y'know . she's still there .

anyways this got kinda longer than I thought it would but I'm so insane about transfem Glenn literally thinking about her constantly , she's my babygirl , my malewife , my girlhusband , my silly rabbit , I love her sm <3

#just blahs #glenn gender <333333 #shes everything to me #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies #glenn close dndads #dndads glenn close #transfem glenn close