#being absolutely not suspiciously gay

[transmascpetewentz]

If I had a nickel for every time a cis gay man youtuber pulled the "i have trans women friends/employees" as a response to being called out for transandrophobia I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

[someshipshouldnotexist]

Merthur

Merthur is one of my all-time favourite ships, for very good reason, and should absolutely exist in canon.

It will forever irk me that they're not canon, because they are like, absolutely soulmates??? canonically too??? like this whole "two sides of the same coin" and "other half" bullshit sounds a lot like a soulmate situation to me so??? why no canon???

I'm sorry but they also just stare longingly into each others way too much for them to be totally platonic bffs.

And some of the lines they've said??? To quote some of my favourites, "do you know how to walk on your knees" (literally their first meeting lmao) and "is your little bottom sore" (both said by Arthur btw) like...it looks a bit suspicious...

Also that one scene in s04e12 where Arthur walks out with no pants...and Merlin's eyes instantly glance down...there...

Also Merlin's depth of devotion of Arthur??? This man is willing to slaughter entire armies for his king, that is a very strong bond they have. Not just that but in The Disir, Merlin gives up the opportunity to free magic, to have everything he should want, for a chance to save Arthur from a potential threat who hasn't yet proved himself to be anything but a loyal knight. That is love and you cannot tell me otherwise.

And Arthur? For me one of the most compelling scenes showing his love for Merlin - not just his attraction (because they really do flirt a lot) - is in s04e06. His fear over losing Merlin, the grief he feels when he thinks he has, his refusal to give up, his desperation and denial - Arthur was going through it. And when he finds Merlin, the smile that blooms on his face? The look in his eyes? That's love. It was a soul-crushing relief with swallowed Arthur in that moment, Arthur who thought he lost Merlin, his other half, the man which made him whole, as he found the man he loved again.

I also really just have to mention Freya's episode when Arthur is trying to cheer Merlin up, like he notices Merlin is down and tries to help in the only way he knows how (he's so proud of himself when Merlin laughs and he succeeds my god), and then HIS SMILE??? THAT SOFT SMILE HE GIVES MERLIN??? so not platonic at all. There is no way. Anyway I look at it, all I can see in that smile is Arthur's love for Merlin.

And let's not lie, Arthur is not comfortable with physical intimacy. Like at all. (let's blame Uther) But with Merlin? he's constantly ruffling his hair, punching him, clapping his shoulder. I absolutely believe that Arthur is an Emotionally Repressed Man-Child and these are the only ways he knows how to convey his care/love for Merlin.

Merthur have hands down the most tension-filled sexual chemistry in the entire show. Arthur and Gwen were nowhere near as good together as what Arthur and Merlin could have been, if bbc had let it happen.

I will absolutely die on this hill, I am, to the end, a merthur defender.

(Let's be honest they were basically flirting the entire show).

Merthur is, without a doubt, an 11/10 ship. You cannot change my mind these two are my entire personality atp.

[nerdvi]

In the wake of the whole james somerton fiasco and inspired by this post, I wanted to share a few of my um, soft signs, like, orange flags to detect when someone is bullshitting you.

First of all, I am on the spectrum which means 1) I tend to take what people say at face value and 2) I have a strong sense of justice which makes me prone to biases, all of which combined means I am at perpetual risk of swallowing the bullshit.

So, what to do about it? You turn on the critical thinking and pay attention.

As one of my favorite youtubers, Hannah Alonzo, likes to say: "consider the source, remember the motive". Who is talking to you?? What do you know about them?? What biases might they have?? How do they interact with your own biases?? Where are they talking from?? Is it anger?? happinness? boredom?? Also, why are they talking to you? Are they trying to sell you something?? Are they trying to convince you and why?? How do they go about the finantial motivation, if present? If you have, in this case, a white cis gay man talking to you as it he has it the worst of the worst in the world, there's probably some exaggeration and you should start to wonder. There's a good chance he's bullshitting you.

How they talk about women and POC No, no, stay with me. There's a rule I had back when I was dating men: Always beware of how they treat their mother. With the exception of extremes like mama's boys and cases of abuse, how a man treats the woman with whom they have that familial bond is a good indicator of how they are going to treat you. Do they berate her? speak ill of her? are aggressive or controlling? do they dismiss her opinions? Same with creators, and by god I tell you, specially cis male creators, queer or otherwise, always always beware of how they speak of women, how they treat women, how they treat POC. Somerton had a weird vendetta against straight women. It went mostly unnoticed. Then, he was dismissive towards lesbians and other queer women and it was once again overlooked. Then he went ahead and made sinophobic content about genres and cultures he knows NOTHING about. Again, it went unchecked. What I am telling you is IT'S NOT NORMAL. Contempt about women and non white-western cultures is not normal and if someone has them as them as an enemy or a scapegoat, they're probably bullshitting you. Take what they say and fact check it, see for yourself.

If at any point in a video or an essay you find yourself thinking "wait, really??" then it's time to fact check. Is it a bit suspicious?? is your logic telling you that's not quite how this works?? Then take to google, my friend, they might be bullshitting you. At worst, you dodge a fake fact, at best, you learn way too much about a topic you were already interested in.

Beware of the lack of nuance. I can not stress this enough. We all love monochrome, but life and societal issues are never black and white. It's just impossible, there's too many factors to consider. If you are being presented situations or anecdotes as absolute truths, you're probably being bullshitted. If it's too good to be true, it is. If it sounds waaay too convenient, it probably is. A good researcher, a serious investigator, will always have some nuance because they have done the work and checked the sources. If someone provides you 1) no nuance and 2) no sources, THEY'RE BULLSHITTING YOU.

These are the ones I can come up with just of the top of my head, I'm sure there's more and please, add them. Remember that naivité isn't a crime, I'm fairly naive and that's made me distrustful, and these are some of the techniques I've found that help me navigate through a world of information without losing myself.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

“Robbie is gone! I’m still here! And I refuse to live in his shadow!”

Rastapopoulos himself may be out of the picture, but his ghost continues to haunt those who were caught in his web.

A collaboration with @aboardthescheherazade using her OC Marlene Katz - an actress Tintin tries to save in Cigars of the Pharaoh!

Five years later and Tintin is baffled to see Hollywood starlet Marlene Katz turn up at his doorstep asking for help. Formerly under the thumb of Cosmos Pictures, Marlene became an unsuspecting witness to Rastapopoulos’ criminal activity and now the mob is after her, seeking to tie up some loose ends. To top things off, she is due to make a public appearance at The Golden Palm, a prestigious film festival. After years of hiding, Marlene is determined to get her acting career back on track, and this film may be her big break.

Tintin is highly suspicious. Chang, on the other hand, is utterly star struck, and after noticing an uncanny resemblance between the two hatches a ridiculous scheme that may finally put an end to this particular problem. It might just work, but Marlene makes the last minute decision to also go undercover, feeling immense guilt over having Tintin and Chang risk their lives for her.

While Tintin is running around in heels and beating up mobsters Haddock is away on a weekend break with Ramo Nash. Before leaving he asked Chang to keep Tintin away from any incidents and to promise not to throw any house parties.

This was my first collab on this blog and I had a lot of fun bouncing ideas off with Vaye. Her blog was one of the first Tintin blogs I followed - definitely check it out, it’s an absolute treasure trove of resources and research! Below are a few notes of stuff we discussed while making this:

- After the Blue Lotus, Marlene breaks away from Rastapopoulos and pulls back from the film industry to lay low, teaching dance classes instead. He keeps trying to come back to her, leaving her exhausted and paranoid. Since Rastapopoulos always considered Marlene to be pretty stupid he never made much of an effort to properly hide his criminal activities from her, but Marlene was able to slowly piece things together...

- This adventure takes place after St. Benezet’s Basement (the boarding school story) and before Call of the Songbird (Tintin Fucks Up and Steals A Whistle). Tintin is still in the grips of trauma from the canon stories. Chang is starting to settle in. Haddock and Nash’s relationship is in full swing, but they are keeping things quiet from everyone else. 

- In some sketchbook comics I did to flesh out ideas there’s hints of Tintin being gay and asexual, his complete lack of interest in Hollywood actresses and his mild irritation of people’s judgements being clouded by crushes! Chang’s attraction to Marlene however, foreshadows his feelings for Tintin later on down the line.

- There’s a role reversal theme going on here. Both Tintin and Marlene are victims of Rastapopoulos but in very different ways. By playing each others’ roles they both can get a clearer picture of how Rastapopoulos hurt people, and therefore a better understanding of their own traumas. Tintin is usually spontaneous and rarely makes himself known, but here he is playing a set character. Marlene as an actress, on the other hand, is used to receiving direction from others, but circumstance pushes her to improvise. I can imagine her using her skills as an actor to get into character as an ace reporter to fake some much needed bravery!

- Marlene’s disguise is literally just stuff she pulls from Tintin’s and Chang’s closets. She’s wearing Tintin’s trenchcoat, dress shirt and suspenders and Chang’s spectator shoes, trousers and scarf!

- Marlene is a very skittish person but will be compelled to do what she believes is the right thing. As Vaye put it, “Marlene’s bravery under fire is that she’s like the one person in a room who’s willing to get a spider outside...” Marlene is also older than Tintin and pretty much views him as a child, even though he’s in his early 20s at this point. She feels incredibly guilty about what Rastapopoulos did to him and the fact he’s risking his life for her. She feels some level of responsibility for him.

This all started because I thought it would be cool for Tintin to beat some guys up in drag

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Follow me on my delusional rant for a second: we all know that stiles was kinda but not really obsessed with the hale fire yes?? What if he just a tiny bit more obsessed with it and less with Lydia. The sheriff turns a blind eye to this because this was the most lively his son had been since his mother died. The sheriff also can’t figure why this case doesn’t feel right to him, but if anyone can figure it out it’s his son.

He goes on a deep dive about the hales. There comes a point where he can’t access anymore information legally; so he goes to Danny to teach him how to hack. This gets Lydia attention but not enough to get her to help, yet.

So stiles learns and he hacks into the school database, the police, and generally every establishment that the hales have frequented. He finds a pattern of suspiciously missed full moons, high grocery bills the next morning. He finds Paige and Kate. He finds a paper trail to the fire.

He shows it to his dad. With this evidence the sheriff looks into the case. This is what causes Lydia to talk to stiles. She pulls up to his house the very next morning the sheriff reopens the case. She liked Cora and would do anything to get the person who killed her. This cause a deeper dive of obsession. Together they look into the supernatural side of beacon hills. They find Lydia’s grandmother, and Lydia is able to understand what she is before it becomes a problem.

I’m a Stiles and Lydia sibling truther. They become that duo. Just over all becoming the pretty twins of beacon hills.

Lydia gets familiar ties to the stilinskis. Something that she doesn’t get at home. The sheriff loves her, absolutely dotes on her. He’s always wanted a daughter. Stiles becomes far more confident and comfortable in his skin. They have spa days and sleepovers. Stiles lets Lydia practice makeup on him. Lydia has her own room at the Stilinski’s, it becomes a safe haven for her.

They both watch over the sheriffs diet like hawks; fast food places are terrified when the sheriff comes in to order food. “No sheriff, I actually can’t give you a double burger because I’m still traumatized from your kids”. Lydia creates a binder of healthy meals, while stiles cooks them. (Lydia cannot cook)

Stiles comforts her when Jackson is being a dick. Stiles becomes frienimes with Jackson. When Jackson swings by the house the sheriff quietly brings out his gun and cleans it in front of him. Lydia pretends to be embarrassed but she’s absolutely glowing. Jackson also become close with the sheriff, especially after him and Lydia break up. (They were gay and lesbian solidarity)

With the amount of digging Stiles and Lydia did they would have figured out Peter was being poisoned. I also believe that they would have found Cora was still alive. This brings Laura and Derek back to beacon hills, starting the rise of the hale pack.

Like imagine season one Derek meeting confident stiles with lipstick. Your honour it’s over for him.

Derek still becomes an alpha after the alpha pack comes and he kills one of them. (I’m also a Alpha Derek hale truther)

Stiles and Lydia are both “little reds”

Derek and Cora being super fucking cocky that they’re mated to the pretty twins of beacon hills

The sheriff also cleans his gun in front of Derek and Cora. He’ll be damned doesn’t get to pull the protective father for his kids.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[sunderwight]

Much as I love the idea of PIDW being rife with terrible porn tropes and interesting (if contrived) erotic writing conventions, all actual evidence in canon would seem to indicate that apart from some sex pollen and "uh oh, the protagonist has gone into a fugue state, whatever shall calm him down?" type stuff, it was fairly vanilla.

Like, that's part of both Shen Yuan and Airplane's frustration with it, I think. It's full of sex and it's not even sex either of them enjoy the concept of. Airplane was fully just trying to pander to an audience he felt he knew and could manipulate, but not one either he nor his ultra mega hate reader were actually part of.

Not that they understood that themselves at the time.

I mean I know fandom likes to make Airplane less closeted than Shen Yuan (for a lot of reasons), which I support, but I feel like in canon at least... he didn't cotton on to Luo Binghe's change in interests at first either. It wasn't until he was watching his protagonist obsess over resurrecting Shen Qingqiu at any cost that the light started to dawn. For Shang Qinghua, also, many more years have passed since he was back in their original world. He's had more time to reconcile himself to certain ideas.

What glimpses we get of the person he was before he died, was reborn, and lived a whole other life well into adulthood, would seem to indicate that he probably wasn't much better than Shen Yuan back when he was writing.

I mean he probably was still BETTER (the bar is on the floor), like I bet he could have a fantasy featuring Mobei Jun without having an existential crisis or pretending it didn't happen, but he would have probably been like "wow I guess I've been writing so much m/f porn that I can't even enjoy it anymore and my brain had to come up with something else, anyway Mobei would make a hot chick tho, I'm gonna write one of his cousins as Binghe's next wife" and gotten on with things.

Basically I guess what I'm driving at is that it would be funny if SQQ and SQH figured they had a solid handle on the kinds of sex pollen-y porn tropes to expect from the world (mostly just the occasional fuck-or-die that missionary can cure), only for the rug to get ripped out from under them because the system incorporated a bunch of stuff from Airplane's subconscious to fill out the gaps. Not even his notes. His daydreams and fantasies.

SQQ: what the hell?! PIDW didn't even have werewolves or tentacle porn monsters!

SQH, suddenly reminded of some very specific fap sessions: right?! this is definitely weird and in no way my fault! it must be because of the genre switch!

SQQ: *suspicious*

SQH: which is your fault! you made the protagonist gay! in fact it's probably your fault that I'm gay too now!

SQQ: bullshit. what did you do. was this in a draft?!

SQH: *sweating* I can say with absolute confidence that it was not! I never wrote anything like this!

SQQ: *having a crisis now because maybe he DID accidentally cause the monsterfucker stuff and he desperately doesn't want anyone to realize that he's actually into it*

SQH: *continuing to sweat because the world is consistently manifesting content from his personal spank bank and if cucumber ever figures that out he's a dead man*

[spidermanifested]

heres MY rambly black sails analysis for the day, after watching the show twice in as many months i wholeheartedly believe in the "long john silvers quote unquote missus in treasure island is max, not madi" theory

the most obvious thing, as others have pointed out, is that in treasure island long john silver runs an inn with his wife, a black woman, in bristol, which is absolutely not madi behavior-- i cannot imagine madi would take him back in the first place much less move with him TO ENGLAND-- but IS maxs exact area of expertise. but theres so many other things that cement it for me

as early as episode 2, max tries to convince eleanor to buy out the inn and run it together with her when england takes nassau back. this is her dream-- to share power over her life with a woman she loves, free of the pressures of the outside world. (youll note this also happens to be silvers dream for himself and madi. the parallels)

in season 4 shes faced with the suspiciously similar option to take a husband to be the face of her business, completely on paper, for the sake of the public eye. and she refuses! she doesnt want to give a man that kind of power over her. not only that but she desperately wants to retain some kind of truth in her identity-- she admires anne for her honesty, her courage. these are things she can rarely afford to express. in refusing a marriage of convenience, she asserts her autonomy.

But. black sails tells us over and over again that an oppressive society will always find ways to batter down these private boundaries. there is no island safe from colonial rule. mirandas peaceful house in the interior is burnt to the ground. the maroons are forced to accept a freedom that comes at the price of abandoning those still enslaved and taking part in their continued subjugation. the things it takes to make these spaces are terrible, and unsustainable, and when it comes to being gay in the 1700s there is a tightrope to walk between privilege and privacy, one that destroyed flint and the hamiltons, thats even narrower to max as a self-made woman of color.

given all that, i do not believe she can girlboss her way out of her circumstances no matter how many lessons she took from what happened to eleanor. nor do i think the show believes it. i think the political-marriage-offer plot point is another illustration of that theme-- maxs desire, and silvers desire, to build a warm, happy room in the middle of the imperial machine, without meaningfully striking out against the machine itself, is destined to be futile no matter how strong they are as individuals.

max and silver are mirror images of one another. each of them is essentially the narrator of one half of the story. it is absolutely agonizing how BOTH of them tried to convince their lovers to abandon their ambitions, to settle for a quiet life with them, and in doing so saw that relationship destroyed by their own fear of an uncertain future....

....And its even MORE agonizing to imagine them finally securing the trappings of a domestic life... but without the love. and they know the love was what mattered! theyre always going to know!!!

it bookends PERFECTLY with their alliance at the start of the series. theyre right where they started, trusting no one, pretending to be humble and harmless, planning to steal the EXACT SAME TREASURE, except now theyre 50 years old and jaded and bitter and both pining after their lost loves. silver probably pictures madi whenever he tells people about his wife. when he and max have time to themselves they talk solely about finances and nothing else. its honestly impressive how miserable this is for every single person involved. im losing my mind

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 3

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Kate is excited and there's a photoshoot. And lots of gay pining and panicking. Mostly on Wanda's end.

content warnings: Vision being a weirdo

word count: 4.5k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Kate is elated. 

She’s almost too excited. Wanda finds it suspicious, and narrows her eyes as her roommate starts speaking quickly, her voice high and her words stumbling against each other in her haste to speak. 

“What was she doing in town? Wait, never mind I don’t really care. She totally came to see you!” Her excited voice blares through the speakers on Wanda’s phone. 

Wanda is in the stock room while Carol is in charge of the front of the store, attempting to count inventory while her mind replays every second of Ms. Romanoff’s visit an hour ago. She had shot off a quick text to Kate, asking if she’d like a personal photoshoot with the CEO, and her roommate had immediately called her, burning with questions. 

“I mean, no fucking way it was just a coincidence that she happened to stop by the only store in town that you work in. You don’t think that was on purpose?”

“She said she was visiting some department for research,” Wanda says, setting the pen down on her clipboard as Kate clucks her tongue on the other end of the line. She didn’t know why her heart sank slightly at the thought, cursing her excitement at the prospect of Ms. Romanoff purposely coming into town to see her. 

“Oh, that’s right. She’s giving the renewable energy research facility a 3 million dollar grant.” Kate’s voice cracks over the speaker slightly, and Wanda feels her eyes go wide. 

“How do you know that?”

“Dude, my job is literally chief editor for the University newspaper, keep up.”

“Oh,” Wanda shakes her head. That makes sense. She must be really out of it, distracted by Ms. Romanoff’s impromptu shopping trip. She changes the subject. “So do you want the photos of her then?”

Kate’s high-pitched screech sounds out, and Wanda jerks the phone away from her ear as the sound reverberates in her eardrum. She winces, making out the words Kate is yelling. 

“Of fucking course I want the photos. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Wands!! Ms. Romanoff never lets anyone take photos of her, and this would be a private photoshoot. We could have hundreds of personalized photos of her, do you know how rare that is?”

“Okay, okay,” Wanda laughs, hearing Kate’s harsh breathing sound out as she catches her breath. “We just have to figure out who is going to take them, and where.”

“Where do you think Ms. Romanoff would want to do the photoshoot? Like, will she judge us if it’s in some warehouse?” Kate asks, her voice starting to get more high-pitched. 

Wanda knows what that means. Her roommate is overthinking, and her hands are probably shaking as her mind runs a mile a minute. 

“We can ask her about a location, since she’s staying in the area.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and she hears Kate’s breathing calm slightly. It’s a start. 

“How would we ask her?”

“Well,” Wanda starts, hesitating slightly. She hears Kate moving around, probably busying herself with cleaning to release some anxiety over the situation. “I can just… text her and ask?”

“She gave you her number?” Kate’s voice is incredulous and bordering on hysterical. “The most elusive, most desired, hottest, eligible single woman in Seattle gave you her fucking number?”

“Um… yes.”

“Oh my god, Wanda. She’s totally into you, anybody can see it.”

“Kate, no,” Wanda protests, “She was just trying to be nice.”

As she says the words, Wanda knows that they’re false. Ms. Romanoff being nice? To some random girl who tripped through her multi-million dollar quartz doorway? Absolutely not. There had to be a reason why she was giving Wanda so much attention. Her heart stutters, filling with happiness at the thought. 

“We can ask Vision to take the photos, he’d do just about anything for you.” Kate’s voice grounds her to the present moment. 

Wanda feels her body shudder. She didn’t really have anything against the tall, nerdy blonde. He was nice, and in a few of her classes with her. But, he would always stand too close to her or would find any excuse he could to talk with her. His interest in her was noticeable and no matter how many times Wanda had hinted at her sexuality, he just didn’t seem to understand her disinterest in him. 

Honestly, she was one creepy, lingering look away from making a giant banner with the words, ‘I’m a lesbian!’ painted across it in pink glitter. 

Still, she had to admit that he was talented with a camera. 

“Fine, I’ll call him. I think you should call Ms. Romanoff. After all, it’s your article.”

“No way, you’re the one she wants.”

Wanda blinked at that, letting the thought warm her for a moment. Then, she shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous, I barely know her.”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who’s met her. And you’re the one she’s purposely sought out, so you’re calling her. Don’t argue with me on this.” Kate’s voice is firm, the click of her hanging up the phone surprising Wanda.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda pulled out the business card Ms. Romanoff had given her. Her eyes traced over the curves of the woman’s name, memorizing the phone number on the back as she felt herself start to smile. God, she felt almost giddy. It felt like she was back in high school, with a crush on a cheerleader who’d smiled at her in the hallways. 

“So, how do you know her?” Carol’s voice sounded out, her tone suggesting that she was attempting to be nonchalant. It wasn’t working very well. 

Wanda jumped, her heart rate spiking as she guiltily slipped the business card back into her pocket. Turning, she saw Carol setting down a box before the woman turned to her with curious eyes. She didn’t have to ask who Carol was referring to. 

“I had to interview her for Kate’s newspaper,” Wanda says, and her casual tone sounds just as forced as Carol’s. “She was sick so I went for her.”

“Impressive,” Carol muses, lingering in the doorway. “I can’t believe Natasha Romanoff was in my store. Valkyrie is going to be insanely jealous.”

She smiles widely at the thought, before seeming to remember where she was. “Listen, a few customers came in, so I could really use your help out there.”

“Right,” Wanda says, picking up her inventory clipboard. “I’ll be out soon, give me two minutes.”

She can practically feel the burning weight of Ms. Romanoff’s card in her pocket, and takes a deep breath. Maybe she can recite some poetry in her head to get rid of the ever-present replays of their meeting from earlier that day. Looking at the clock, Wanda despairs slightly. 

Only three more hours of her shift, then she can go home and study without thinking about the redhead at all. Not even a little bit.

—

“Wanda, you know my style,” Vision’s voice crackles slightly over the speaker, a whining sort of quality to his tone. Kate rolls her eyes from where she’s listening in on the conversation. “I only shoot places, not people.”

“Oh my god dude,” Kate says, ripping the phone from Wanda’s hands. She gladly lets her roommate take control of the situation, her stomach churning with every word that Visions speaks. “If you don’t do this for us, the newspaper won’t cover the opening of your show. Do you understand now?” 

There's a beat, a moment of silence that stretches too long to be comfortable. Vision speaks, “Fine. Send me the details once you have them and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Kate says, and hangs up the phone before Vision can say anything else. “Your turn, call Ms. Romanoff.”

Wanda blinks, still processing the conversation with Vision. 

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. If I don’t sit here with you, you’ll never call. I know what you’re like with making phone calls. I’ll even hold your hand if you want,” Kate says, reaching across the couch with exaggerated grabby hands as Wanda chuckles and slaps her fingers lightly. 

Taking out the card, Wanda traces the familiar shape of Ms. Romanoff’s name before dialing the number from memory. It wasn’t that hard to remember, especially since she’d been repeating it subconsciously in her head for the past few hours. Her stomach twists, doing a funny sort of fluttery motion as the dial tone rings. 

She answers on the second ring, her voice clipped and calm. It’s slightly raspy, and Wanda feels her chest grow warm. 

“Romanoff.”

“Oh, um… Ms. Romanoff? This is Wanda. Uh, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. You gave me your card earlier?”

“That I did,” she says, and Wanda can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s good to hear from you, Ms. Maximoff.”

Her tone has changed, warmth flowing through the phone. She sounds pleased and almost surprised. Wanda is acutely aware of the way her face is slowly flushing with each low, raspy word Ms. Romanoff speaks. Kate watches, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Wanda’s pink cheeks. 

Standing, Wanda waves her hands in Kate’s direction in an unspoken order to ‘fuck off’, before making her way towards the kitchen for some fresh air. They’d propped the window open earlier, and Wanda eagerly breathes in the smell of freshly fallen leaves as she scrambles for something to say.

“We found a photographer,” she blurts out, before smacking a hand against her forehead. “For the photoshoot tomorrow. That is, if you still want to do a photoshoot. I didn’t mean to assume. Does that work for you, ma’am?”

Wanda can feel herself cringe slightly as the words spew from her traitorous mouth. 

“Ma’am? That’s new… I’m staying at the Hilton in town, does 9:30 work?” Ms. Romanoff asks, and Wanda can hear the amusement in each syllable. The woman’s slow smile practically seeps through the phone, and Wanda pushes down the giddy feeling erupting within her. 

“Yes, of course,” she feigns nonchalance, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “We’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it, Ms. Maximoff,” she says, and Wanda can visualize the way her dark green eyes are glinting. She envisions the corners of her mouth turning up into that secret smile she had given Wanda earlier, and shakes her head quickly, returning to the present moment. 

“So do I,” Wanda manages to say, before she quickly hangs up the phone, practically slamming it down on the counter and staring at the screen like she’s expecting the circuits to light on fire. 

“Wow,” Kate’s voice sounds out, her tone a slow drawl. “You’re totally blushing, dude. Admit it, you like her.”

Whirling around, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. She stutters, the words of denial fading quickly as she registers the way her heart is beating quickly and the excitement and butterflies building within her at the prospect of seeing Ms. Romanoff the next morning.

Well, fuck. 

“Oh, come on. She has a million other things to worry about. She’s not focused on some college student who interviewed her. And it’s not a crush… I just find her intimidating.” Wanda can’t tell if she’s trying to convince Kate or herself, and based on the way her roommate raises her eyebrows, she’s not easily swayed. 

“Sure,” Katre says, her gaze pointedly glancing towards Wanda’s reddening cheeks. “I’ll arrange the photoshoot and give my manager a call.”

“I’ll make us supper, how does spaghetti sound?” Wanda asks, jumping at the opportunity for a subject change. Kate agrees, her knowing gaze telling Wanda that she’s aware of her tactic, but thankfully her roommate drops the subject.

That night, Wanda dreams of cinnamon and dark red hair, the weight of warm fingers against her skin, and a raspy voice echoing around her. She wakes up twice, burying her head in the pillow as she scolds her overactive brain for thinking too much. 

She just has to get through this photoshoot, then she can bury the thoughts of Natasha Romanoff somewhere deep inside her brain. 

—

The Hilton stands out among the other buildings, the white-washed stone a beacon of wealth. Wanda tries her best to not raise her eyebrows too far, but Kate doesn’t seem to care as she cranes her neck to look up at the building. The boys in the back, Vision and Paul, seem interested as well, and Vision winces as Paul leans over him to press his face against the window. 

“Damn, so she’s like really fucking rich, huh?” Paul asks, and Wanda internally scoffs. 

She’d looked up Ms. Romanoff’s net worth the night before, her eyes wide and her ice cream forgotten and melting in her bowl as she stared at the numbers on her screen. She’d found herself in a rabbit hole of research, if that’s what you could call it. She mostly just looked up any information she could find about the woman, her public records limited and her photos mainly sourced from various exclusive interviews. 

“Yeah,” Wanda muttered, “I guess so.”

Kate had managed to book a room in the Hilton, typically used for receptions. She’d struggled for a while, her call being transferred to various departments until she’d finally uttered the name Romanoff. After that, it was easy to book a room, free of charge. 

When they arrive, a nervous, young-looking man guides them towards the room. Vision lags behind, carrying his camera and equipment. Wanda pays him no mind, aside from the occasional forced smile in his direction. He’d been trying to talk to her in the car and not-so-subtly imply that they should go out on a date, but luckily Kate and Paul had redirected the conversation to much safer topics. 

The nervous man opens the doors to their rented room, Kate’s casual confidence shining as she directs Vision and Paul toward the back wall. They have about twenty minutes left to set up, and Wanda eagerly accepts Kate’s order to ask the hotel management for refreshments. 

Setting up the finger sandwiches and water cups is easy, and Wanda finds herself relaxing at the monotonous act as she watches the minute hand on the clock creep closer to 9:30. She stiffens when the scent of cheap aftershave reaches her nose, Vision’s lanky frame filling her vision as he leans against the refreshment table. 

“So, you went and interviewed this woman,” he says, leaning in. “Is it true that she’s really a lesbian?”

Furrowing her brows, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. To say.. something clever. Vision beats her to it, his eyes glancing down at her chest too many times to be a mistake. “I bet she hooks up with some really hot women, I wish I could photograph that instead.”

“Oh, maybe we shouldn’t talk about her private life-”

“Also, I was wondering…” Vision cuts her off before he straightens, his eyes glancing over Wanda’s shoulder. 

Wanda senses Ms. Romanoff’s presence before she sees or hears the woman. She watches Kate’s eyes go wide, her eyes flicking over to her as excitement fills her features. Turning slowly, Wanda nearly chokes on her own saliva as she takes in the woman before her. 

Ms. Romanoff is dressed in the most expensive-looking clothing Wanda has ever seen in person. Her cream-colored dress pants hug her in all the right places, and Wanda has to wrench her gaze upwards before she’s caught staring for too long. The white, silk shirt isn’t much better for her steadily-increasing inappropriate thoughts. Wanda blushes when Ms, Romanoff turns, the light catching her shirt just right to show the abdominal muscles flexing through the thin fabric. 

Forcing her eyes further up, Wanda feels a shiver run through her at the look in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes. At first glance, her dark-green gaze looks to be impassive, cold even. But Wanda notices the way her eyes are slightly crinkled in the corners, a private smile meant only for her. The woman’s eyes darken slightly and flicker down towards Wanda’s outfit, lingering just a half-second too long at her chest. She doesn’t mind, Ms. Romanoff’s gaze is comforting rather than off-putting.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Kate says, and Wanda immediately feels the loss of her heady gaze on her. “So lovely to finally meet you, I’m Kate Bishop.”

She holds her hand out, and Ms. Romanoff shakes it. It seems firm, and Wanda finds herself wishing that she could feel the woman's soft skin against her own. She wonders if her handshake is firm, and looks down at the floor as a hot, jealous feeling arises within her as Kate starts directing the woman towards the backdrop Vision and Paul had set up. 

Vision starts to say something, his fingers uselessly gesturing toward a spot against the backdrop. Ms. Romanoff ignores his stammering request, focusing on Kate as she directs the woman into position. Dark green eyes flicker towards Wanda, a sort of curiosity in them. 

“Wanda,” she says, a single finger beckoning her closer. “What do you think?”

“Oh, um. About the poses?” Wanda asks, the woman’s hot gaze trapping her in place. She feels her feet start moving towards the backdrop, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she feels her heart begin to race. 

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff replies, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You're the only one here who's spoken to me before. So, you know me best. What pose do you think would capture me?” 

Wanda blinks, her mind blanking. She remembers the way Ms. Romanoff had leaned forward during her interview, her forearms exposed from her rolled-up sleeves as she regarded Wanda with intent eyes. 

“Roll up your sleeves,” Wanda says without thinking, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks at Ms. Romanoff’s amused, raised eyebrow. Kate glances back at her, a slightly proud smirk playing out on her lips before she turns back towards the CEO. 

Maintaining eye contact, Ms. Romanoff slowly unbuttons her sleeves, rolling them up with precision that speaks to years of practice. Her gaze is heavy, and Wanda feels the air around her grow hot as her heart rate picks up to a dangerous speed.

“Anything else?” 

Goddammit. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is low, her slight rasp sending Wanda’s mind spiraling into an unknown, fuzzy headspace. She suddenly has the urge to step closer to the woman, needing to be in her space.

Oh, those hands. Those fucking hands. Wanda watches the woman finish rolling up her sleeves, those hands resting casually over her knees with her fingers curled slightly. There are gold bracelets and fingers decorating the woman’s wrists and fingers, and Wanda has a sudden vision of Ms. Romanoff slowly taking all of her jewelry off. She’s well aware of the other three people in the room, one of them her roommate and the other a boy who is borderline obsessed with her. She doesn’t really care. Not when Ms. Romanoff’s attention is fully on her. 

“Lean forward,” Wanda says, biting her bottom lip. Green eyes track the movement, darkening slightly. “Lean on your elbows and look at the camera through your eyebrows. Then slowly tilt your head up until you’re looking dead set at the camera. Give us the barest hint of a smile.”

She turns to Vision, her eyes lighting up in excitement as he starts fiddling with the setting on his camera. “Make sure you get plenty of pictures as she’s slowly tilting her head up. This way, we get plenty of different expressions and angles.��

Vision nods, smiling at her. Wanda shudders, his blinding teeth throwing her off. 

Looking back at Ms. Romanoff, Wanda takes in the woman’s furrowed brows as those captivating green eyes glance between her and Vision. She suddenly has the urge to distance herself further from Vision, and steps closer to Kate. 

“Perfect,” Kate says, clapping her hands once. Wanda fights the urge to jerk at the abrupt sound. Paul startles, dropping one of the finger sandwiches. 

Vision takes several photographs, the click of the shutter sounding out as Wanda watches the woman intently. Ms. Romanoff seems to slip into a role, her expression professional and practiced as she assumes many different poses, her forearms exposed artfully in each one. 

The photoshoot is over before Wanda has fully processed seeing Ms. Romanoff, her mind replaying the closeness of the woman when she visited her store. The sight of those eyes is burned into her brain, the dark green color ingraining itself into Wanda’s memory. The faint scent of cinnamon wafts near her, and she feels lightheaded with need. 

Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with her. 

“Ms. Maximoff.” The words are commanding, and Wanda focuses. Ms. Romanoff is standing, her eyes focused on Wanda. “Will you walk with me?”

“Of course,” Wanda murmurs, ignoring the look and subtle thumbs up that Kate sends her. 

Walking quickly, Ms, Romanoff pulls the door open smoothly and holds it open for her. Her eyes are intent on Wanda, her hand just barely brushing her waist as she slides past her through the open door. 

The silence isn’t overwhelming, instead, it’s rather comfortable. Wanda is well aware of the woman beside her and fights the urge to look over at the way Ms. Romanoff’s hair curls gently over her shoulders.

“Would you join me for coffee?”

“What, now?” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think, and she blushes at Ms. Romanoff’s amused glance. 

“Yes, Ms. Maximoff. Now. I’ve been recommended a coffee shop just down the road.”

Wanda blinks. Is this… a date? Is Ms. Romanoff really asking her out? On a date? 

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff says, drawing out the syllables. “This would be a date.”

Fuck. Wanda hadn’t realized that she’d said that part out loud. She almost says yes. God, she wants to, but she’d forgotten one crucial detail. 

“I have to drive everyone back.”

“Hmm,” Ms, Romanoff doesn’t look pleased. She turns to the side and waves a hand sharply at a man standing nearby. He’s dressed in a sharp suit and snaps to attention. “Taylor, can you drive the photographer, the assistant, and Ms. Bishop home?”

“Of course Ma’am.”

Wanda feels her eyebrows steadily rising in disbelief as the man steps into the room they’d just left. Of course, Ms. Romanoff had a personal driver. She probably had a chef and a housemaid and a… Wanda stopped that train of thought before she could think about it too hard. 

“So,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, turning a corner and stopping at a window. There’s a nice view of their small college town, and Wanda turns to look at it. Anything is better than meeting those piercing, heavy, green eyes. “Are you available for coffee?”

“Why do I have the feeling that you won’t let me say no?”

“Oh darling, you can always say no. But that’s your decision to make.”

Wanda glances down, picking at her fingernail to avoid the heavy gaze locked on her. Something about Ms. Romanoff just makes her want to agree with everything the woman says, and the arm muscles flexing through her silky fabric isn’t helping Wanda stay focused. She takes a breath and looks back up, “So this is a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” Ms. Romanoff’s head is tilted slightly, her expression giving nothing away. Wanda feels her heart skip a beat. Her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth, and she feels herself choking on air as she begins to stammer out nonsense words. 

“I- well. I’m- I don’t know, I-”

“I would like for this to be a date,” Ms. Romanoff cuts her off smoothly, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. 

“Well,” Wanda mutters, feeling her face flushing even further as Ms. Romanoff’s smile widens. “I’d like that too.”

“Perfect,” she says, and Wanda wonders if she’s standing closer than before. She can practically feel the older woman’s body heat against her own, and that faint scent of familiar cinnamon wafts beneath her nose. She breathes deeply. 

“I’ll have Nick bring the car around. You should tell your friends that you’re unavailable for the rest of the morning.” Ms. Romanoff’s words are low and murmured against Wanda’s ear. She hopes that the woman doesn’t catch the full-body shiver that cascades down her spine, or the goosebumps rising quickly on her neck. 

Wanda nods at her, eyes flickering between Ms. Romanoff’s dark green irises briefly before she turns her gaze past her towards Kate. The older woman’s hand twitches, her fingers brushing lightly against Wanda’s waist as she steps around her. A full shudder threatens to run through Wanda’s already overactive nervous system, and she suppresses it with sheer will. Her roommate is in the middle of giving Vision and Paul instructions but turns towards Wanda with a raised eyebrow when she begins walking over. 

How the fuck is she supposed to explain a last-minute date with the country’s hottest, richest, and most eligible bachelorette?

Next Chapter

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo @godhatesgoodgirls @snowdrop1026 @maximoffmorale @noturlondonboy @wandaspuppy @xenaizogie @imjustvibingsworld @tobiaslut 

[jacensolodjo]

I love certain people but if at any point the thought process is 'besides the invasion of Ukraine, russia is actually okay because it stands up to the USA/West etc.,', I'm gonna have to wonder where the FUCK y'all have been the past fucking 100+ years aka YOUR ENTIRE LIFE russia has been not okay.

I want y'all to think long and hard every time, EVERY TIME, russia is in opposition to something the USA/west does. (always be suspicious why they are against it. believe it or not a country isn't always against something because it is morally/ethically right to be against it. they are against it because they don't like the other country. Surprise! while you may shrug and say 'same difference' haha read on) and then WATCH WHAT THEY DO. you WATCH. they will do THE THING THEY JUST CHIDED THE WEST ON DOING. Maybe a month later, maybe two months. Who knows. BUT THEY WILL DO IT!! IT IS THEIR THING!!! Or even better, IN THEIR HISTORY they have done the exact fucking thing they just chided the west on doing. And no I'm not even gonna say 'oh a hundred years ago they did this thing'. But they did this thing they are chiding the west on within living memory. or are ACTUALLY ACTIVELY DOING IT!!! While saying to the world 'ohhhh bad evil West, you no good West, how AWFUL!!!' They will shake their finger about war crimes and GUESS WHAT THEY ARE DOING RIGHT NOW??? They don't get to sit there and say SHIT while they do the same thing they're saying is bad. Any other country pulls that, they get hung out to dry. russia does it? Why is it okay?

It's called fucking whataboutism and it is still alive and well in russia. It was invented there and you are FALLING FOR IT EVERY FUCKING DAY. Because why? Russia is not your friend. Russia is killing the people you say you care about. Russia is killing people. EVERY DAY. Just because one day it also says it is against the shit you are does not mean you start going "yay russia! you tell 'em russia!"

Russia knows what you dislike about your own damn country, about the West, and it mocks you for agreeing with it for going 'bad West'. You earn points with absolutely no one. You merely look silly when, inevitably, russia does the bad things it does later after you have praised it for saying the same things you do. When it was advantageous for it to go 'bad West'. Or when it does something politically that you say is awful when the West does it. Because, again, it is STILL bad no matter what country does it.

After it has murdered Ukrainians. Chechens. Georgians. Siberians. Jews. Muslims. Gay people. Trans people. Black People. Asian people. The people you claim to give a fuck about. The people it has been murdering for decades. For centuries.

You want to sit there and go 'yay russia' because it happened to go 'naughty West'? Imperialism is Imperialism is Imperialism. Just cause it's a different flavor of it doesn't mean a goddamn fucking thing. It does the same bad shit you hate the West for doing. Russia just wears an ushanka while doing it.

I grew up with 'russia bad'. Idk when things stopped with 'russia bad'. But can we go back to 'russia bad'? Being anti-USA/West does not make some entity good. Take that fucking thought out of your head. russia bad. say it with me. russia. bad.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.2 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. a little internalized homophobia. leg humping. handjob thru underwear. lots of kissing. hobie being a lil shut. weeks of avoiding hobie become moot when you and him find yourselves alone in a bathroom together.

wc: 3.6k

You wish you hated Hobie Brown.

It would be so easy, wouldn't it? He kissed you, did unspeakable things to you in that closet. And you let him. You enjoyed even, you relished in the way his mouth felt, his lithe fingers sinking into your flesh. the way he cooed in your ear. It would be easy to write him off completely, hate him for the rest of your life, his smug face, his hooded eyes that gaze into yours and hold secrets only known between you, him, and God.

But you don't hate him. You can't. You hate yourself more than anything. You should have never indulged him, never let him put a single finger on you. Because now, when you lie in bed at night and close your eyes, all you can see is him on his knees, feel your cock sliding down the pocket of his throat while he looks up at you through his lashes with those dark eyes of his. You can't get it up any other way. Women don't do it for you anymore.

The moment the two of you left the closet you told everyone to leave. You picked up Hobie’s clothes and shoved them into his arms before sending him out the door with the rest of them. You never once looked him in the eye.

Your friends asked Hobie what had happened inside the hour you spent together and Hobie, being quite the convincing liar, simply shrugged as if he had no idea what had set you off. “Nothin’. Think ‘e migh’ be claustrophobic.” But he knew. You both would always know, no matter how hard you attempted to scrub it from your mind. He’d keep it a secret if you did. He might start shit from time to time but he wasn’t into outing people. He’d keep the secret for you if you didn't want it.

You know better. You know yourself. If you were alone with him, something like that would happen again and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

So you avoided Hobie like the plague after that night. Every invitation to hang out was promptly turned down with an excuse that was only a thinly veiled lie, obvious to no one except for Hobie who knew better than to accept that you were sick 3 weeks in a row.

It was understandable. He had made you question everything you had known about yourself all within a matter of an hour. Why would you want to be around him? You feared him and everything he symbolized to you.

“It’s Hobie, isn't it?” Your friend, Riri, sighed. She had come in person to get you out of the house. There was no pretending to be sick, no feigning exhaustion. She came and she called you out so accurately you feared that Hobie might have told her what had happened in the closet. Your chest squeezed and you lost your breath, terrified that she may know.

You scoffed, anxiety swelling within your chest as you pretend to roll the question off your shoulders. “Hobie? Why would I care about Hobie?”

“Everyone knows you can't stand him. And you haven't been the same since we stuck y’all in the closet. Did he say somethin’ to you?” You looked into her eyes for any semblance of your secret and found nothing. You wished you could tell her, your shame, your pleasure, the absolute heaven you felt being in that closet with Hobie. You’d just embarrass yourself.

“No, that's ridiculous. I find him just as endlessly irritating as I always have.” You reach up, tug at your hair softly, and shift your gaze. You were telling on yourself. Fuck, if you didn't agree now, she’d definitely know that there was something up with you and Hobie. “I’ll go, it’s whatever. Just let me get ready.” Your voice was quick, snappy, you were definitely acting suspicious. But you hoped you conceding to going would distract her enough to forget.

It did. Your friends weren't the most aware bunch.

That's how you ended up here, standing in the midst of a true punk party. There was a mosh pit in the front, people inches away from getting punched in the face, starting an all-out brawl. Most were drunk or high off shitty beer and even shittier drugs.

Hobie was on stage performing. You heard his voice before you saw him, the way it echoed in your ears and left you delirious. Riri dragged you into the crowd, just far away from the mosh pit to not get trampled over, and you saw him. His dark skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat, fingers meticulously strumming at his guitar, lips pressed against the mesh of the microphone as if he were attempting to kiss it like he kissed you.

He wore a plaid skirt, his muscle shirt was just cropped enough to reveal the scant of his abdomen and the hair on his slender naval. You saw him and all you could think about was how you wanted to touch him. You wanted his black-painted lips on your neck, wanted to bury your fingers in the new growth of his hair, wanted your cock in his mouth once again and maybe to put his in yours. 

The thoughts terrified you but what frightened you even more was that when you came to, Hobie was looking at you. Smug, careless, beautiful, like he knew just what you were thinking about and he was thinking the very same thing.

Face hot and embarrassed over being caught, you averted your gaze. You turned on your heels and swiftly left Riri to make your way to the bar. You needed a drink, or five, so that maybe your nausea could be attributed to something worthwhile. But no matter how far from the stage you found yourself, Hobie’s voice was still in your ear, teasing your senses, tempting your body. You felt hot and parched. 

“Give me the strongest you have.” You asked the bartender and pressed your face into your hands.

Hobie played three of his songs before his time was over, the entire time you watched from the corner of your eye. Watched the way he swayed, jumped, wrecked the stage, a force to be reckoned with. You watched him and his bandmates, your friends, walk backstage and felt relief. You wouldn’t have to hear his voice everywhere you went. You hadn’t considered that meant that they would all gravitate over to you to have a chat over where you’ve been for nearly a month now.

They came over with Riri, the unknowing traitor, Hobie standing taller than everyone else in the back. They hugged you one by one, slapped your back, kissed your cheeks, told you they were happy you finally agreed to hang. You would have loved to see them if Hobie hadn’t tossed his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. 

He smelled like musk and faint, fragrant cologne, your nose pressed to the side of his chest. You look up from where you sat on your barstool only to find him already smiling broadly down at you. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with they presence. Miss me, sunshine?” He was so smug, so proud. If only you could kiss that look from his stupid face and leave him breathless for once instead of the other way around.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, shrugging his arm from your shoulders. “Don’t get so full of yourself.” You downed the rest of your drink and requested another one. Hobie came, sat on the stool beside you, and told the barkeep to add all your drinks to his tab.

“Ya been avoidin’ me, sunshine?” Hobie only really seemed interested in talking to you. The others chatted aimlessly amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to notice the way Hobie’s eyes glazed over you, the way his smile seemed a little different when it was directed at you. They also didn’t notice the way he placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles into your flesh, the way his digits fingered the rips at your jeans.

“Whyever would I be avoiding you, Hobie?” You grabbed his hand to stop his gentle assault on your thigh and he took the opportunity to lace his fingers in with yours.

“I don’ know. Why are you avoidin’ me?” His hand was hot and rough with callouses. If only he’d touch you a little more. Slide his hand up your arm, brush over your neck. You could feel your body growing warmer by the moment. You couldn’t be trusted with him, couldn’t trust yourself for that matter.

You tore your hand from his. “You know exactly why. I hate it when people play dumb.”

“Jus’ add i’ to the long list of all the reasons ya hate me.”

Oh, if only it were so easy to hate. You’d hate him till the day he died. You’d hate him beyond the grave. You’d hate him until the world combusted into flames and everyone burned with it. But it wasn’t so easy. It was actually quite hard to hate someone you longed so carnally for. If you could rid yourself of him for good, you would in a heartbeat.

Hobie ordered himself a nice large glass of beer and leaned in. “Was i’ so bad, what we did? Ya seemed to enjoy i’ in the moment.”

Your eyes grew wide, glancing about to ensure your friends hadn’t heard him.

Hobie scoffed. “Please, too loud in here. They all wrapped up in ‘emselves to pay attention t’us. Look here, sunshine.” He reached out and gently grasped your chin to make you look at him. His touch was like fire all throughout your body. Looking him in the eyes lit something in the pit of your stomach. "Ya look good t'nigh'."

His drink came and he took a sip of the froth at the top while looking at you, his gaze all affectionate and tender. The way one lover would look at another. He didn’t even have to touch you to get you riled up because you both knew him looking at you through his lashes like that was just the way he looked at you when he kissed the tip of your cock.

You needed air. It was suddenly so stuffy where you were, you felt like you were suffocating. The ache of your cock made your jeans tighten. You felt nauseous.

You must have looked crazy standing so abruptly. Your friends attempted to call your name as you pushed your way through them and searched wildly for the nearest exit. The best you could find was a bathroom sign. That would have to work.

The bathroom was grimy and covered in graffiti. Your boots suck to the floor when you walked and you’re sure you could see a leftover powdery substance on the side of the sink. You turned on the water and cupped your hands beneath it to gather some and splash it on your face. 

Nothing between you and Hobie had to change. If he would simply stop provoking you, you could ignore everything else. The way your eyes lingered on his exposed body, the way his lingered on yours, the memory of your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking till he came on your tummy, the way you came in his mouth and he drank it all up.

You pressed your hand against the bulge in your jeans and moaned softly at the pressure. Then there was a knock at the door, startling you out of your momentary pleasure and reminding you that you were indeed in a public restroom.

“Oi, sunshine! Ya alrigh”?” Hobie. He just simply couldn’t let you have a moment of reprieve. Readjusting yourself in your pants so it's not so noticeable, you opened the door only to be met with Hobie leaning against the frame. He looked at you, questioning, before inviting himself right in. “Le’s talk.”

“Talk? You wanna talk?” You slammed the door shut and locked the door behind the two of you out of instinct. “We have nothing to talk about, Hobie. Absolutely nothing.” Your demeanor was cold, your lip curled. It all belied how much you needed him to stop looking at you that way. With heavy eyes and a touch of a smirk on his lips.

Hobie quirked a pierced brow at you. “Who’s playin’ dumb now? Ya tink I ‘aven’t noticed how you’ve been actin’? Yer meaner than usual.” He approached you. Slowly. He looked at you, watched to stand your ground. “God, yer down bad, aren’cha?”

Your face was hot, cock hard in your pants. You said not a word. Let him get close, really close, leaning into you while staring into your eyes.

“It's okay, though. I like ya mean.”

You grabbed him by the shirt, hands tight in the fabric as you turned him around and pushed him against the wall. “You think this is fucking funny, huh?” You shook him a little, pressed his thin body to the door, your eyes aflame with passion and anger. Hobie just looked at you, smiling, with his hands up as if to surrender to you, his eyes heavy with seduction.

You hated that look, so cocky and proud, fucking gorgeous. 

You were rough when you kissed him. You knew you couldn't be trusted with yourself or with him. You knew it would all lead to this. And God if it didn't feel good. His lips were so soft, sweet, a little salty from his sweat. You held his shirt a little tighter, pulled him a little closer and his hands settled on your hips.

You let him slide his tongue into your mouth, let him slide his hands up and down the length of your body, slide beneath your shirt. His thumbs looked into your pants and tucked his knee between your legs to press against the growing bulge in your pants.

Just like that, he took control of you. You melted into him, licked into his mouth as you moaned, rutting yourself against his knee. You were desperate, panting, needy. You showed all your cards just as they were dealt and now you had nothing but an empty hand and a hard cock.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout'cha.” Hobie panted into your mouth, hands pawing at you. Your kiss was sloppy, filled with swapped saliva and sticky tongue. “Missed ya. Looks like ya missed me too.” He chuckled softly as you licked his bottom lip, sighing with pleasure when he pressed his knee harder into you.

You should stop this. You should be stopping yourself. But you simply couldn't control yourself and you didn't know if that said more about you or about him. You were insatiable. You were angry. You were horny out of your mind. 

Hobie let you suck on his lip and tongue, chuckling the whole time. It made you stop, your hands tightening up in his shirt. “Is something funny?” You pushed him against the wall harder, your body pressed against his, your aching cock against his knee. You tried to play tough, your face firming up, but Hobie already witnessed how desperately you've been wanting him this entire time.

Hobie sighed softly, looking at you, smiling broadly. “Nah, nah, ‘m laughin’ ‘cause ya definitely like me, sunshine. Just as much as I like you.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to yours, and kissed you softly. Lips latching, tongue licking, teeth nipping, you didn't resist him as much as you thought you would. You hadn't imagined for it to feel so good the second time around.

“Lemme help ya out, sunshine.” Hobie pressed his knee harder into your crotch and you crumbled, panting into his mouth with your eyes squeezed shut. One of your hands unballed itself from his shirt and found itself settled against the apple of his throat, pressing and squeezing while you humped his leg into oblivion.

The friction was delicious. The pressing and grinding with his tongue down your throat left you a little delirious. You were lightheaded and feared you might faint if he kept holding your waist like he was, moving your hips for you, pressing you harder.

“Keep goin’, pretty boy. Ya got i'.” Hobie crooned into your mouth as your lips fiended for another kiss, a lick, something, anything to satiate the burning in your chest, the fire all over. His fingers sunk into the meat of your thighs with his soft grip that meant to gently coax you towards your climax.

How embarrassing. To cum in your jeans just from humping a leg. But God, if this didn't feel good, if Hobie wasn't doing you so right. You pushed him harder against the wall, squeezed his throat a little tighter as you ground yourself into him.

Your free hand slid down his front and beneath his skirt to feel the bulge of his erection through his underwear. You weighed him in the palm of your hand, clumsy massaging and fondling. You didn't know how to handle him. Attempting to conjure up the way you touched him the last time you two felt each other, you rubbed him, felt the wet patch where precum leaked and soaked into the fabric of his underwear and stroked his tip.

Hobie shuddered, one that rattled through his entire body. He gripped you harder, bruising your hips and thighs and he drove you further into his knee and left you shivering. You squeezed him in your palm and he moaned.

It was pathetic how easy it was to forget how much you wanted to hate him. Your brain was foggy with pleasure and need. Your hands groped at each other with a fiendish desire. Hobie nipped at your bottom lip. “Fuck, jus’ like tha’.”

You were so close. Your lips broke apart from his with a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your head felt back, exposing the supple flesh of your throat which Hobie greedily attacked with lips and teeth and tongue. “Gonna cum f’me? Hmm, sunshine? Go ‘head ‘n make a mess f’me.”

You whined, your body rocking back and forth with the waves of your orgasm. You hadn't cum in your pants since you were a teen and never before because of another man. You felt as though you should be humiliated but you were so wrapped up in Hobie's sweet scent and the way he moaned into your neck as you pressed your hand into him and felt his cock twitch in your hold.

You rubbed him harder, faster, determined to get him to come undone the way he had your world falling apart. Hobie chuckled against your throat. “Tryna get me t’cum, pretty boy?” His lips peppered kisses to your lovely throat. You nodded, your hand stroking his throat with your thumb. “Give it to me, please.” Oh how the mighty fall.

Hobie faltered a bit when you squeezed his balls in your hand, whining into you like a puppy. “Beg.” He sighed softly against your neck. “Beg fo i'.”

"Please, please. Shit, Hobie, give it to me " Overstimulated, his knee still pressed into the wet spot in your sticky jeans, your hips still rutting into the mess you’ve made of yourself, you jerked him off through his underwear, stroking it rapid, blundering twists of your wrist. Hobie liked how inexperienced you seemed, he found it amusing how hard you tried to please him.

You knew he was just on the edge of an orgasm by the way his moan lowered an octave. He sang for you like he sang on stage, your own private show. His hands gripped you with an impossible strength, tongue lavishing over your throat. He nosed at the curve of your jaw and moaned into your ear as he came in your hand, leaking out into the cotton of his underwear.

You were left panting, stroking at each other in tender touches. You were uncharacteristically affectionate, desperate for it. You needed his hands, his lips, his soft chuckles, his pretty smile. God, you were losing it.

“Fuck-” You pulled away from Hobie, your entire body coiling away from him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” It all came back to you like a tsunami. How did you let this happen? Again no less. What in the world were you thinking? What the hell has he done to you?

“Sunshine, calm down. It's okay.” Hobie reached out for you but you almost fell over trying to get away from him. Your hands gripped the sink for stability and in hopes to ground yourself in reality. “No, no, it’s not okay, Hobie! We need to stop this.”

“Whatever we have goin’ on between us-”

“There's nothing going on between us,” you insisted. “There should be nothing going on between us.” Hobie scoffed at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would’ja get ova y’self? We didn' make each other cum by accident. This keeps happenin’ fo’ a reason. We like each other.” He motioned between the two of you, his eyes softening.

“I can't do this, Hobie. I can't give you what you want.” You rushed past him and escaped out of the bathroom door before Hobie had a chance to catch you. It was a mistake to come out. You should have left the moment Hobie touched you. 

It was just your luck to run into Riri on the way out the door. You bumped into her just as you neared the exit. She had whipped around, ready to let you have it until she saw that it was you and worse, when she saw the tears streaming down your face. As if this night couldn't get even more embarrassing.

You said nothing to her. You simply pushed past her and left the bar with her calling after you. Hobie approached behind her, watching you leave with sulken shoulders and smudged makeup.

“Shit.”

[bitterkarella]

Identifying furries by their fursonas

Fox- this is the default fursona for the default furry, namely a twink with a blown out fucked to death asshole

Vixen- Girl fox referred to as a vixen is an egg, girl fox just referred to as a fox is an out trans woman

Kistune - the same as above but weeb flavor

he-wolf - a greasy guy who weighs 12 pounds soaking wet and wears a fedora. republican.

she-wolf - the butchest bull dyke you ever saw

coyote - manic depressive. always on something. the drug connection at any furry party

Cat- always a woman

black cat - could be any gender but always goth

kitten/kitty - a trans sex worker, has an only fans they really want you to know about.

bobcat - older dude. wants people to think he's ex-military

Jaguar - an older black guy. will probably have the word "black" in his fursona's name

lion - just a huge asshole

tiger - another asshole. old. wants you to believe he's ex military or ex-police, probably a member of the dorsai irregulars. major grill dad vibes

jackal - a huge asshole and a slut. white gay racist, probably transphobic

cougar - either a trans woman or a terf. there's no in between

Horse - white woman who identifies as 2 Spirit or a guy who wants to be stomped on

Pony - gay nazi

unicorn - either the absolute gayest dude you can be or a 9 year old girl. sometimes a late in life transition

Tanuki - latino

badger - either a huge lesbian or an old avuncular straight guy. possible sex pest

Raccoon - nature's greatest mistake. too normie to be furry, too furry to be normie. dilf.

bat - either a goth or a real annoying shit (some overlap). invader zim fanboy. doesn't drink alcohol but claims to act crazy on "sugar highs." definitely has dabbled in webcomics

cow - a woman. maternal. mom friend or mommy dom. milf. possibly trans femme

steer - a big strong fat rough trade gay guy

sheep - mom vibes

pretty much any farm animal - mom vibes

domestic pig - wild card. might be a wet and messy fetish thing tho or a trash eating thing. loves to be stinky. loves to talk about being stinky.

wild pig - trans masc

skunk - either a fat beardy guy who has a tumblr blog about animation squash & stretch or a stoner gal. very straight. the straightest. a kinsey 0. has strong feelings about what the fandom used to be like before there were all these kids in it.

rat - is a huge asshole as a front, probably likes talking cigars

lemur - autistic

sloth - 420 blaze it. will never finish any commissions

chakat - an older cishet man who thinks the fandom is too political & refers to "anime" as "japanimation"

sergel - nazi

citra - the biggest dipshit you've ever met

procyon - furry equivalent of the thomas jefferson miku binder pic. you should not be talking to this person, this is a literal child

weasel - a girl with cluster b personality disorders

ferret - a person who has at least one pet ferret, but probably many

mole - this person thinks they're in a beatrix potter story

guinea pig/chinchilla/jerboa/gerbil/any kind of fat rodent you can keep as a pet - the sweetest person you will ever meet

armadillo/pangolin/anteater/aardvark - smug, contrarian. "i just wanna be different"

mouse - vore fetishist, prey. sub.

hyena - vore fetishist, pred. probably trans masc

otter - a dommy twink, possible enby

bear - gay

panda - absolutely a white person pretending to be asian. probably running a gofund me scam with a suspicious story about how they're a professional nintendo gamer who injured their hand or something

bullfrog - a huge fat hairy straight guy

any other frog - inflation or rubber fetishist

axolotl/newt/salamander - genderfluid enby

rabbit - trad wife trans woman

squirrel - autistic and gay

deer - gay

gazelle - zootopia megafan

monkey - punk DIY artist type, definitely loves weed

ape - absolutely baffling. nothing this person does or says makes any sense. you will be left wondering whether you're speaking to a child, a person with severe mental issues, or someone who doesn't have english as a first language

elephant - mom friend

hippo - a fat fetishist or a transformation fetishist

rhino - an older cishet dude who wants to project a curmudgeonly yet approachable aura

kangaroo - definitely not an australian person. extremely focused kinkster, usually feet or inflation. more STDs than should be possible to carry

koala - an asian woman

virginia opossum - anarchist/communist punk trans man who makes zines and/or comics

australian possum - just here to have fun. wants everyone else to be having fun too. wacky funster. (sugar gliders and flying squirrels fall under this category)

any other marsupial - poser

monotremes - extreme poser, don't even bother

doberman- gay dude who tops from the bottom or a cop (there is some overlap)

german shepherd - a nazi or a cop (there is substantial overlap). definitely a furry raider. he will wear his cop uniform to con and after con will post videos pretending that someone was rude to him

afghan - arch femme

basset hound - racist

puppy - sub, probably an egg. extremely draining. cries a lot

all other dogs - just dudes being bros (gender neutral)

dragon - the furries of furries. like to talk about eating "sammiches" and "chocklit." probably an adult baby lifestyler. they will send DMs that just say "hi." they like to RP and when they contact you about a potential commission they are actually just trying to trick you into RP

griffin - the same as above but also a brony

snake - sissy hypno fetishist

turtle - an old man, probably southern. an ironic grandpa.

other scalies - furry in denial. either a child or an old person from CYD. the world's last something awful goons

any fursona with latino vibes - white

any fursona with asian vibes - latino

any fursona with native american vibes - eastern european

avian - girl who's not like other girls. hippie. vegan.

raven/crow - agender voidgoth

chicken - mom vibes

dinosaur - the absolute biggest nerd. probably has an actual degree in paleontology. definitely dresses like miss frizzle.

any invertebrate - not a real furry, their girlfriend just made them get a furaffinity account before they could get ass. either that or they've never even heard of furry, they just came up with the idea of anthropomorphics from first principles. a biology teacher or weirdo (there is some overlap)

amoeba - this is a troll

[headspace-hotel]

the foundation of a lot of conservative thought is that there is some kind of magical force keeping the amount of suffering in the world constant, and that any effort that would broadly reduce suffering a great deal can be safely dismissed as being useless or untenable without examining it very closely.

This goes along with a very deep fear or intuition that something very very bad will happen if people do not suffer enough. It is a belief that the innately corrupt aspects of human nature will run rampant without "punishment" both in the strict sense and in a bigger, more general sense of "being taught a lesson" about how the world is harsh and cruel.

Conservatives who aren't, like, openly sadistic monsters can only resolve the cognitive dissonance by placing a very sharp dividing line between "kind/good/compassionate behavior as an individual" and "things that would improve society."

You, as a conservative individual, can donate to a charity or do something nice for someone, but this cannot be part of any responsibility you have as a member of your society. An individual can be kind, but it is either necessary to make sure the society individuals belong to is cruel, or at least necessary not to try to make it less cruel.

Conservative folks that don't consciously embrace cruelty must rely on historical illiteracy to call upon a monolithic " The Good Old Days" where the cruel and coercive aspects of society were stable and accepted enough that they were tempered by the benefits of true absolute conformity to traditional morality and gender roles+ the pleasures of a Simple Homesteading Life.

They rationalize coercive social standards through the argument that it only FEELS like coercion if you are introduced to another possibility, and if you immediately go limp in the jaws of the role predetermined for you, you will never want anything else. Women for instance were all perfectly happy being submissive housewives, back when there was no choice socially or legally. Everyone would be straight if no one was ever exposed to a happy openly gay person.

There is also a deep conviction that the human brain can only handle a small amount of pleasure or happiness above a neutral baseline, and "too much" sexual pleasure or mercy or relief from pain always either comes from or causes something grotesquely evil.

Their view of pleasure and happiness is very cynical and economic Law of Equivalent Exchange type stuff. Often, lots of sexual things are evil in the eyes of these people basically because they offer a suspicious amount of pleasure with no obvious "cost." They will SAY that sexual deviance is all these terrible things, but they believe that "deviant" sex feels good—too good, in fact, that's why it's that much more evil.

A lot of "trad" losers believe masturbation is from Satan because their schema for understanding the world can't accommodate the idea of something that gives you pleasure for "free," without hurting someone else or hurting you. For that pleasure to be "given" to you, it has to be "taken" from somewhere else (your soul or whatever)

It also works in reverse: the more you suffer in the present, through Hard Work or whatever, the more Good you will reap. It's a big reason why war and dying in combat are so romanticized by these people: that kind of Extreme Bad unlocks a level of Good not accessible otherwise (Freedom🎆🇺🇸)

real turd of an ideology all things considered

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

When Charlie is depressed, Vaggie holds her and sings her own version of "Cheer Up, Charlie" from "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". The rest of the staff have secretly witnessed this at one point or another, but never speak of it because they'll never admit that seeing the princess being sung to by her girlfriend made them cry.

only for Charlie (and their hypothetical unborn child) will Vaggie do this,

and only Charlie (and their hypothetical unborn child) can witness her doing this and live in safety afterwards

unfortunately for Vaggie, there are other people living with them now (friends) (found family) (Those Pests) (who she and charlie would die for)

-and THEY have a bad knack for being bored and snooping on moments they clearly shouldn't

(being fair angel thought vaggie was cheering charlie up in a total different way and would've been less embarrassed listening in if they HAD being doing what he thought)

(being fair to husk when angel drags him over to listen too, Vaggie's gay af cover and clearly love stuck voice gives the song a whole new vibe)

after that no one else can be blamed for humming the song. you can't escape it once the bartender has the earworm

and here follows a very jumpy day of a them all trying not to hum the song where VAGGIE will see it's THEM humming it, (like a deadly game of marco polo or freeze tag) because she makes up for only having one eye with a truly terrifying glare and hell help anyone who doesn't stop the split second before her head whips around to stare at them suspiciously. her spear, also suspiciously, stays in hand the whole day

a successfully cheered up Charlie (and Vaggie is sO relieved to see that, consequences be damned) trots by at one point like Wow The Hotel Just Feels So CHEERFUL Today!!! Am Missing Something Or Is Everyone Else Feeling Extra Happy??

everyone looks from her to Vaggie (or rather, vaggie's very pointed spear)

and they all agree (angel gags niffty before she can say otherwise) that they're just So Happy Today. Yes. Yep. That's all that's going on here. Nothing else at all

Charlie waltz's off (literally) with Vaggie stalking after her while shooting one more (probably not literally?) murderous glare over her shoulder

and no one got hurt! yay!!!

(it's prime blackmail material, on the partner of the princess of HELL no less, and they all gather at the bar to swear each other to secrecy) (not because of vaggie's glares or spear) (absolutely because of the painfully sappy look she got when she looked back at the honest to gay frolicking Charlie)

(imagine charlie and vaggie trying to save their souls meanwhile they're all muttering together: these two are such Idiots about each other, We Need To Protect Them From Their Own Stupid Love. but like, for selfish reasons. of course)

a week later alastor tries playing a snippet of the original song around vaggie just to see what happens

he decides, very CASUALLY, not to do that again. and to keep in mind the fact that charlie's hotel manager can snap a solid oak banister with one hand

(he likes his microphone in one piece thank you) (and his antlers) (and his Neck)

[ihopesocomic]

Okay I wasn't going to reply to this because the topic is old and the sentiment confounded me. (for those who don't know, the initial conversation was about people who are sexist are usually not far away from also being racist/transphobic/etc) But I think because of that I'm going to say something anyway. If they're a straight woman or a gay man, they can absolutely be sexist towards women. Thinking otherwise is ridiculous.

That's like arguing that it's not weird to only have cis white gay characters and literally no one else -- no trans men and/or bisexual men etc -- but they want asspats for being "inclusive". V*vziepoop has a ton of cis gay men in her trashy shows while the women and/or trans characters "exist" at best, and any attempt to flesh those characters out is forced. And you don't find that suspicious? Lol ok I can't help you.

And this isn't just about cis women, or even about the cis gay men who have a visceral hatred and entitlement towards women, because what I'm saying is expansive. A person's "disinterest" in women justifies why they only include cis gay men and literally no one else. And everyone's just. Fine with that apparently. I remember a time when people would crucify me and RJ because we have a female-focused cast, and they would simultaneously ignore the existence of our male characters that we give time to, and that people love and talk about. As a lesbian I am not the least bit interested in men, but I still somehow manage to include them in my lion comic of all fuckin things. What's everyone else's excuse?

So "I never find those people suspicious" Is that logic applicable to all the cis women who do the same thing, or is it just cis gay men?

Does everyone give the diversity quota a pass because if it has cis gay men in it its "good enough"? Do they think that just because they don't say verbatim that they're racist/sexist/transphobic, that they can't possibly be any of those things?

My original statement stands. Maybe be skeptical of media you consume if there's only one type of person being presented. - Cat

[nimmie-nugget]

~Reincarnated as a Knolastname~

Note: HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH!! 🎃👻 gonna be honest- I actually think Crimson might have cared atleast a bit for Moxxie when he was a child 😭 Anyway~ take some reincarnated Moxxie’s Sister Reader Headcanons!! 🥳 Do keep in mind that characters may be ooooooooc, and when there’s 8 O’s you know it’s extreme 🤯. Also I haven’t been doing Tokito Twin’s content for a while so I just wanna reassure that I have some HCs coming up for them 😫!! Enjoy!

P.s in the back flashes of EXES AND OOHS I think Moxxie was 4? Yeah so that makes you 7, your 3 years older 😋👌 tho age is not mentioned at all- and I will make fics of this 😤

Warnings: a lot of slang(not rlly a warning, just thought I’d mention), ooc, may have punctuation, spelling grammer/etc errors,

Info: idk man just wanted to add this 😐

Edit: HOW DOES SOMETHING LIKE THIS- A POST I BARELY PUT ANY EFFORT INTO GET MORE RECOGNITION THEN THIS POST, THE ONE I ACTUALLY PUT EFFORT INTO 👹👹 I appreciate the likes tho don’t take it in a bad way- 😭👌

Edit#2: I recommend u don’t read 💀👍

Helluva Boss Masterlist

______________________________________________________________________

~Reaction to being Reincarnated~

-long story short you don’t know how you ended up here but you found yourself being the daughter of some random old ass guy that’s gonna be the main reason for your character development arc.

-at least that mom with an unknown name will provide you sweets and shit-

-gonna put sum realz shizz on this family fr.

______________________________________________________________________

~Death~

-isn’t this Tumblr? Yeah long story short this turned into a Wattpad story for a second and the famous Truck-kun killed you 🗿 but you forgive Truck-kun since Truck-kun’s just being Truck-kun 😌.

______________________________________________________________________

~Inside a Mansion~

Yup this “Mansion” is someone’s womb, zamn how da heck do you still have memories of your past life? Also why does your very tiny unformed body kinda look like an imp? Just like one from your favourite show Helluva Boss? How can you even see??? It’s pitch black bro- meh it’s whatever 🤷‍♀️ it’s fun kicking at least-

______________________________________________________________________

~Borth~

…I’m not even gonna explain this 🫡 but just so you know Crimson was not there for your birth 😶

-at least you still have the same Borthdah as you did before you were reincarnated???

-Girly just 🖕 this bullshit why’d you have to be re-born in this family out of all the ones in Helluva Boss? I mean- you don’t mind being Moxxie’s gay emo sister but like- Crimson…CRIMSON. Tho make sure to start those teenager phases early so no one becomes suspicious of you when your going through the teenage thinga ma jig 😔

-but yay! You bet that Moxxie’s mom- well basically your mom now, WILL BE THE BEST 😩

-but girly you weren’t even fazed when reincarnated- just accepted it like a champ 😎

______________________________________________________________________

~Crimson’s First Thoughts On You~

-Absolutely nothing- 😃

-only thought of you as his heiress and DEFINITELY to lead his Mob in the future 😔

______________________________________________________________________

~[Unknown]’s First Thoughts On You~

-this is the Mom btw 😃

-gonna be honest I don’t know much since we’ve never really gotten a FULL view of her personality- all that I know is that she’s kind? 🤷‍♀️ Yuh so I won’t really directly say what she thought but I guess I can just- I don’t know man just read I guess 😃👌

-101% THOUGHT YOU WERE CUTE AF!! what happened to infinite%? 😢

-she felt a warm and fuzzy feeling inside, something she never felt ever since she married Crimson 😔.

______________________________________________________________________

~Moxxie’s First Thoughts On You~

-‘Guppa duppa poo daaah dooo’

-don’t tell me you actually expected a real thought from him- Broski was just born 😔

______________________________________________________________________

~Your First Thoughts On Moxxie~

-‘zamn bro’s crying on his borthduh I could never 🙄💅’

-girly he’s like a few minutes old what on Satan’s ass are you talkin ‘bout? 😀

______________________________________________________________________

~What Crimson Thinks Of You~

-your a nuisance, like- what do you mean when you say “put those dawgs away💀”

-yeah you definitely got in trouble so many times- this stupid MF can’t understand slang and just thinks your insulting everyone around you 😶

-forget about you being his heiress, might as well make Moxxie his heir instead 😠

-Now take a very ooc dialogue 😋 btw this is after the Mom’s death 😃

-“[Name], cut it out. That will happen if you don’t stop.” He says calmly, too calm for you to know he’s pissed. (he was implying that he will drown you just like he did to the Mom btw-)

______________________________________________________________________

~What [Unkown] Thinks Of You~

-Loved you from the moment she layed her eyes on you 😩 (cheesy much 😶)

-wrote more then a dictionary just to prove how much she loves you 😔

-yuh that’s all I got 😐

______________________________________________________________________

~What Moxxie Thinks Of You~

He’s 4 rn-

-HE LOVES YOU!!

-your his sister why wouldn’t he- ?

-your basically his partner in crime 😈 both of you steal treats from the kitchen when your not supposed to 😤👍

-if the Mom found you 2 being naughty then sorry to tell you but yer’ both getting a time out 😔

-…BUT IF CRIMSON FOUND YOU- yuh that’s somehow gonna become a family issue problemo 😶💦______________________________________________________________________

I sometimes forget writing is for fun- but I certainly had fun writing this 😎 now I’m gonna tag this in some tags that this doesn’t even relate to which will make everyone hate me but they will soon worship me after reading this masterpiece. Praise this shit rn *points gun at you*

[imfinereallyy]

I think we all overestimate (including myself) how much the party would notice Steve and Eddie being into each other. Or how the things they do aren’t strictly platonic. Like they are all traumatized and codependent. They would probably think “this looks weird to other people but not to us. Everyone else just doesn’t get it.” All of them have either anxious attachment styles or avoidant ones. And both in the very extreme. So Steve and Eddie going from drastically hot and cold makes sense to all of them.

These two boys are absolutely floundering trying to figure out each other, and the party is just like “yes, yes this is normal. Just traumatized bros being bros”. Especially the boys. The girls (max and el) probably are a bit more suspicious about it but considering their upbringings and the horrible journey of puberty they are still navigating, they assume it’s just not something they are used to/understand. Also let’s not forget it’s the 80s, where yes gay people exist (so many people pretend like they don’t, like why???), it was an extremely tense time to be queer (ie, satanic panic and the aids crisis), so people weren’t as open about it especially in Indiana, so these kids probably don’t just assume what their surrogate father figures are doing is anything but friendly.

The only person that would actually notice is Robin. Not the party, not the adults, not Murray (although this one is hilarious). But Robin.

For two obvious reasons. One, platonic soulmates duh. Steve probably rants about how Eddie hasn’t talked to him three days and he doesn’t understand why, and he misses him and she probably thinks “oh my god he’s so dumb.” The second reason being she’s gay™️. And just like most queer kids, she looks way too deeply into the slightest homoerotic thing. Every thing Eddie and Steve do, she has a full essay as to why that means they are in love.

And despite her clocking it, when Steve finally admits her feelings about Eddie to her she thinks “holy shit I can’t believe I was right.”

——

I love the everyone knows they are into each other but themselves trope, but oblivious party trope is also hilarious to me