#lesbian maureen

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

the ongoing night vale discussions about formatting and plot and stylistic decisions are all good and productive. can I derail them to say night Vale needs better yuri

[ghostlyheart]

I'm so tired and I need to go to bed but I just HAVE to ramble about "A Message of Art" because in one episode the Apocalypse Players have already managed to lay the groundwork for some really interesting themes about the need to perform creativity/sophistication and the thin line between art "subject" and object, especially when it comes to female agency.

Jane Harnsworth-Wright is immensely wealthy and powerful as an art dealer and carves out a place for herself in the circuit of the art world as a woman. But the control and status that affords her also makes her complicit in the objectification of other women AND highlights how she is trapped in her own way. She still needs to polish and present herself and worries what will happen when her beauty is gone. Edwina Alexander, the "piece of all pieces" as labeled by her, fully embraces the fact that her beauty can get her whatever she wants. The tension and covetousness of their relationship as art dealer and muse: "I [Jane] tuck a finger under Edwina's chin as if I'm examining a piece of art. And I think in that moment all of you realize, I buy what I want" (🤨❓️🏳️‍🌈). Edwina is "delectable." Yet they also have this practical alliance because they both understand exactly how this whole scene functions. Jane says, "I feel like you'll be my best friend at this party from this point forward." Later, Edwina remarks, "I think [Jane] can be helpful to me, weirdly, so I want to keep you a little bit close." They can be honest with each other and talk about what "beauty" really means in this context. Jane has a very pragmatic view of how the salon works, seeing it as more transactional than a celebration of culture: "Do you want to be an artist, or do you want to be the subject of artists, or do you want to buy art? And there's nothing else to be found here. Which is it, darling?" Edwina resists this classification and coming into the salon with her own agenda: "I'm interested in people and where they're from and what life's all about really... so, subject of art, what do you mean by that, Jane?" Her beauty is a tool that gets her in the door but she doesn't identify as a muse even though everyone sees her that way.

Not to mention the tiny glimpse of what's going on with Bathsheba. "LaRouche...is looking around to sort see if anyone else is looking at her, in a way that someone might he showing something off, like how you, Clovis, might be showing off one of your paintings." Bathsheba's beauty making her a threat to Edwina because women are treated like accessories and aesthetic accents to the environment. Not to mention how homoerotic this entire situation is

[mayasaura]

🔬

🔬 Who is your fav lyctor and why?

Uh, Harrow. Duh.

But if she doesn't count on account of having never completed the ritual, then. Huh. Anastasia was never a lyctor, so I can't say her either.

Cassiopeia. There's something about an ethics lawyer trying so hard to steer a cult in the right direction. And the way she went and used that to make sure her people would have a path to leave, if John ever pushed them far enough? Legendary. Create that exit strategy, babe!

She was brought onto that team to monitor John and provide oversight, and in the end she did her goddamn utmost. I'm still hoping she did a lot more that we current know.

[hibiscuit-rose]

hello today is my girlfriends birthday plus our 1 year anniversary <33

i drew her favorite idina menzel musical characters and also us at the bottom ^w^

[maureensmistress]

Fic List

Pattie Boyd x Reader

Just for Practice (first kiss, angst, longing)

Under the Bleachers (angst, longing, slightly nsfw, can be read standalone or as a sequel to Just for Practice)

Birthday Girl (drabble, angst, longing)

Falling (sequel to Under the Bleachers, angst with a happy ending)

Linda McCartney x Reader

Good Girl (smut, nsfw, dom!Linda, switch!Paul, threesome, dom/sub relationship, easily the filthiest thing I've ever written)

Ginny Starkey Series (Maureen Starkey x Sister-in-law!Reader)

Makeover (fluff, preslash, oneshot)

Crowded Room (angst, preslash, oneshot)

First Move (angst, first kiss, oneshot)

After Midnight (angst, confessions, kissing, oneshot)

[yourdailyqueer]

Maureen Bradley

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

DOB: N/A

Ethnicity: White - Canadian

Occupation: Director, producer, screenwriter, artist, professor, curator

[myrandomthoughtsblog]

How I see the characters from truly devious

Stevie, Janelle, David, Nate, Vi and Ellie

[mistoffeleesisawitch]

I’ve been listening to the Rent NYTW and it’s pretty interesting. This version of Maureen entrances me in spite of how much she sucks as a person. Like she’s definitely worse here. Pretty clearly controlling and emotional manipulative. And I don’t really believe NYTW Maureen actually loves Joanne. Like in the Broadway version in spite of her lack of faithfulness and unreliability, I do believe she is genuinely in love with Joanne, but I just don’t see it in this version. But like… I get it I would date her in spite of the obvious red flags.

Also Mark is an incel who refuses to accept Maureen is a lesbian (she’s explicitly a lesbian in this version) in the NYTW so I’m glad they changed that.

[anewgayeveryday]

Today's LGBT+ Character is;

Joanne Jefferson and Maureen Johnson from RENT-Lesbian and Bisexual respectively

Requested by Anon

Status: Alive (and dating)

[banjo-bugs]

got to wtnv ep100 btw feeling sick and ill. steve’s speech is making me crazy hes my #1 crusty little white dog

[thesundanceghost]

merry christmas, ive decided i would risk it all for this little capitalist macy’s man from miracle on 34th street

[minglana]

i had a moment yesterday night when i watched it but im having a moment about it again today. the parent trap (1961) parents are a lesbian couple. TO ME. literally wtf. gay vibes all around and the woman (maureen ohara hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii) is just so. augh. SOOOOOOO!!!!!! no words no fucking words

[tapiocalilly]

i’m in love💗💗💗

MAUREEN STARKEY in THE BEATLES: GET BACK Part III.

[leofromsomewhere]

chat i just watched center stage for the first time and can someone explain to me why there is only one jody/maureen fic on all of ao3? they actually would have been so perfect for each other im actually going feral

update: one digging later, there are only 23 center stage works at all? chat, do we just not know about this movie?

[birdishere]

i usually leave things under layers of mystery, camouflage what this really is to me. to be honest, for once: i don’t want to get to know your occupation or engagement. i want to lose my thoughts, fade into those with the same persuasion. pressed against you in the back. i want to feel the impossible, blind lust of two women chasing a late night high. quiet anonymity, all-consuming in my mind. never thought i’d be the type to forget her name. never thought i’d say it’s better this way.

-something i wrote after referring to a past hookup as “that redhead i met at the bar”

[maureensmistress]

After Midnight - Maureen Starkey x Reader

It's been a few weeks since you and Maureen shared a fleeting, secret kiss in the back of a cab, and since then you've kept each other at arm's length. But tonight, after Mo and Richie have been fighting, you hear a tap at your door....

Angst, guilt, cheating tw, longing, forbidden love, kissing, slightly nsfw, part of my MaureenxSister-in-law!Reader series

Word Count: 1.4k

The house was quiet, and you thought Mo and Richie might finally be done fighting. It was well after midnight – your brother hadn’t even gotten home until around twelve – and you tossed and turned, resettling yourself in bed, hoping you might finally get some sleep.

You’d always hated the sound of fighting. When you were little and your parents’ blowout fights kept you up at night you used to crawl in bed with Richie. He was always kind, always patient, always let you sleep next to him where you knew you were safe. Nothing bad could happen to you with him around.

He’d been there for you again when your parents threw you out six months ago, letting you come stay with him and his wife, Maureen. You hadn’t talked about why your parents kicked you out – it wasn’t the sort of thing you said out loud. But he made it clear that he didn’t care just by being there and taking care of you the same way he always had.

That’s what made it so awful what you’d done next.

It was weeks ago, now, and you and Maureen were pretending it had never happened. Richie had even noticed that you were a little more distant with each other, had seemed puzzled by it, but thankfully hadn’t tried to bring it up. Your relationship wasn’t one where you talked about things like that – wasn’t one where you talked about anything important at all. Richie loved you and looked after you without really knowing you, and that was best for both of you, you were sure of it. You supposed you didn’t really know him either. At least, it was starting to feel that way.

Because the person who came home late and drunk and yelled at Maureen and made her cry was not the same boy whose bed you crawled into when your parents scared you. This person was something scary by himself.

You put that out of your mind, reminding yourself that it was none of your business. Maureen and Richie’s relationship had nothing to do with you. Maureen had nothing to do with you. It was important that you remember that.

Even if you could still feel her soft lips on your skin, could still feel the way heat rushed to your face as you drank her in, drew her into yourself and melted into her at the same time so that you were one being coursing with electricity and wrapped in the blanket of the night. In your memory the two of you sparked and glowed in the dark, illuminating the back of the cab, and her bright skin was as pale and soft as a lily.

You flipped the pillow over, sighing. As if you’d get any sleep tonight. You needed something bland and boring to think about to drive these awful thoughts out of your mind, even as they made you shiver under the blanket. That's when you heard a light tapping at the door.

At first you thought maybe you imagined it, it was so light. But then you heard it again, and with it a soft, slightly choked voice whispering, “Ginny? Are you awake?”

Maureen. You swallowed hard. You really ought to pretend to be asleep, to pull the covers over your head and ignore her. Nothing good would come from letting Maureen into your room after midnight. But, almost against your will, you slipped out of bed and to the door.

It creaked just a little as you opened it, and there was Maureen, her eyeliner smeared from crying.

“Mo,” you whispered tenderly, and then stopped yourself. This was none of your business.

But Mo looked so upset, so frightened, and it reminded you so much of the scared little girl you used to be, and so you did what Richie would have done and moved aside to let Maureen into your room.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

Maureen sat on your bed, running her fingers through her hair and not looking at you. “I’m alright,” she said, but you could hear the tears in her voice. “He just—” she bit her lip, her voice catching.

You moved to sit beside her, feeling the way the line of the mattress dipped towards her. She was looking out the window over the head of your bed, studying how the smoky clouds enveloped the pale moon. Her long hair was like ink under the moonlight, dark and shimmering, and her skin almost did seem to glow just like it did in your memory.

Despite everything, despite what you should have been feeling, you wanted to feel her skin again so desperately. Your fingers twitched and you could almost feel the shadow of what it would be like to run them through her hair. What a terrible thing to want, and what a beautiful thing it would be.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You didn’t know what else to say. You could hardly argue with her, try to convince her she was wrong, when you’d heard everything.

“He didn’t used to be this way.” Maureen turned from the window then, and you saw tears in her eyes as bright as diamonds. It was awful, but it made her even more beautiful.

Without letting yourself rethink it, you stretched out your arms and Maureen moved into you, allowed you to wrap yourself around her like a blanket. She tucked her face into your shoulder, and you felt wet tears on your skin. You hugged her tighter, shushing her gently. She clung to you with both hands, holding you close as if she was afraid you would go away. “It’s okay,” you murmured, even if nothing about this moment was anything like okay, even if what you knew you were about to do was the furthest thing from “okay” that had ever existed. 

Maureen pulled back a little and looked you in the eyes, really looked at you like she was trying to see straight through you to the other side, her eyes black like the ocean at night but as hot as a burning ember. They seemed to burn into you, through you, heat finding the most intimate corners of your heart. And then her lips crashed into yours and your eyes fell shut and her hands were on your face and your fingers found the back of her head and it really was such a beautiful, terrible thing. 

This kiss was much more intense than the last one, nothing tentative or nervous about it. You wondered for a moment if this was the reason Maureen had come to your room in the first place, and then her tongue slipped between your lips and you couldn’t think at all. Her hands were traveling from your face down to your bare shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently, finding your collarbone and tracing over it in such an enticing way. It was like she was trying to cover every inch of your skin with goosebumps, and she was succeeding. 

You couldn’t believe how soft her hair was, slipping through your fingers like silk. She pulled back slightly to suck at your lower lip, and you followed her, addicted to the taste of her lips. The whole world was her touch, her smell, her taste, her burning heat coursing through your entire body. This was more than electricity, this was like wildfire spreading over your skin, spreading over both of you, filling you with a wildness you’d never felt before. It terrified you and yet you followed it helplessly, unable to resist something so powerful and so beautiful even if it was awful at the same time. It didn’t even feel real. 

When Maureen finally pulled away, your lips parting from hers, you could feel yourself blushing so hard it almost hurt. She tucked a strand of inky hair behind her ear, looking shy and embarrassed. You were afraid for a second that she would run away, but then she smiled a tiny, embarrassed smile, almost as if she didn’t mean to but her lips curved anyways, and something relaxed in your chest. The two of you may have done wrong, but you were in this together. 

“What are we going to do?” you asked softly. Because you knew now that these feelings would not go back into the drawer. 

“I don’t know,” Maureen whispered. "But I don't want to pretend anymore."