#this will take a long time but. so does learning new things :)

[spacefucksmeup]

Here's some fun facts!

1) A VPN can make it look like a computer is in a different location (such as a country with less censorship). VPNs cost money, but are generally seen as worth the investment and are used by many people looking to increase their internet security and/or bypass regional restrictions. *There is no benefit to utilizing both a VPN and Tails.

2) Tails is essentially an operating system that can be downloaded to a USB drive. This allows a computer to use the Tails system instead of windows/ios/linux/etc. This is more secure because every time it is turned off, the whole thing resets. Every time it's turned on it's as if it's brand new—downloaded files, browsing history, etc, will be erased.

3) Tails automatically includes The Onion Browser (Tor), which is a more "anonymous" way to access the internet (as opposed to Chrome, Firefox, Safari, Brave, etc). Tor can be used like a regular internet browser, although bookmarks and similar data saving functions will not be available.

4) Tails+Tor is generally safe and "anonymous" enough for the average person to do whatever they are trying to do. It does leave a trail indicating that a connection to the internet was made via Tor, but it would take a decent amount of effort to find out anything more than that.

5) It is basically impossible to be 100% anonymous online, but there are additional steps that can be taken to get close. Tor can be used to access "onions", also known as the "dark web". People typically only use onions for illegal activity so: This is all for educational purposes only—I don't encourage illegal activity. I won't go into detail because this post is long enough already, and anyone looking to access onions should read a lot more than just this post. One thing that many online sources fail to mention:

6) Disabling JavaScript in the Tor privacy settings isn't a complete guarantee. To be confident JavaScript is disabled type about:config into the address bar, search for javascript.enabled, and change the True to False.

As always, do your own research, don't just trust me. Internet privacy is a complex topic but it's worth learning how to keep your personal data safe.

sorry if i'm gonna be quiet for a while. my country recently introduced laws that make it so that in order to use social media to the fullest (not being able to view ns/fw content and in a few cases, not even having access to dms), i HAVE to give the sites my id/face scan.

it goes into effect july 25th. it'll probably effect here too, since this place allows mature content (tho not full on ns/fw)

i'm very distressed about it bc i might end up not even being able to talk to my internet friends. i don't really have any irl ones

if i have to disappear on most socials by then, you know why.

[musicalnobody]

AN: i got a little carried away here, oops.

older icky boyfriend simon riley with his younger easily flustered girlfriend who just can't get enough of him.

bickering with him about a commercial you remember and when he pulls it up and tells you the year it was released you defiantly say "That wasn't that long ago!" to which he replies "Oh yeah? What grade were you in sweetheart?" causing you to blush and dart your eyes away from him, knowing the answer is shameful.

singing along to songs in the car that your dad used to listen to, late 90's and early 2000's alternative/rock, when simon turns to you and asks how you know these songs. "It's dad rock!" you proclaim before simon snorts and goes to change the song to a classic rock song from the 80's, "This is dad rock sweetheart." watching as your face goes bright red as you sputter some nonsense about growing up with dad's who were into different kinds of music.

when your car takes a shit on you, simon is quick to fix it, claiming that he's "been working on these cars since you were born" hanging over your head that your car was a shitbox from the era of the early 2000's. never letting you be the one to drive, you find yourself sitting in his nice new truck, just another thing that reminded you of the difference between the two of you. how he was old enough that he could afford such a luxury while you were stuck with the car you got when you turned sixteen.

it's even worse once he gets you in the bedroom, teasing you for your lack of experience while you gag on his cock, watching as you struggle to take it. "you'll learn how to take what I give you doll" he coos, reveling in the sounds of your struggle. when you first felt him through the thick fabric of his jeans during a random drive your eyes went wide, muttering that you've never had someone as big as him. "of course you've never been with anyone as big as me, you've never been with someone as, how do i put this, qualified before me."

and when you take his cock for the first time? stars explode behind your vision at just the tip. whining about how it's "too big" and watching as simon just chuckles, bullying more of his length into you. "You can handle me baby girl, just look at what you're doing to me." he groaned, sweat glistening on his chest, muscles flexing as he tried his best not to lose control.

he's rearranging your guts when you first say it. writhing in a bliss heavy heaven that had you believing in a god you had never thought once about. "d-daddy please!" simon's pace stutters, and you worry you may have said something wrong, until you feel a brutal thrust against your cervix that has you screaming. "daddy huh? should've guessed a dirty little thing like you would like the fact that I'm older than you."

simon doesn't let up after that, teasing you by getting you to say it even outside of the bedroom. you need help getting some shoes on? "thanks daddy" you want a particular skirt at the mall? he's making you say "please daddy" in a way that has him wanting to take you to the nearest fitting room and show you exactly what it does to him. he has you so trained, that when you say "thank you daddy" when he compliments your new dress, he's already tugging you over so he can show you just how much he likes it.

[thankschef-blog]

dating carmy headcanons

(nsfw under cut)

carmy doesn't need to speak when he comes home from work anymore, you understand what he needs— usually a hug then a shower. he trusts himself to you completely most days, letting you half-carry him to the couch, then the shower, then to bed, all the way until he passes out in your arms, content and peaceful for once.

carmy sometimes feels like cooking is only routine for him now and not his passion, only to be reminded that no, he absolutely loves this as he watches you taste one of his new recipes. he bickers with you, all playful and lighthearted, about how you should be eating it, quizzes you on the spices he added and gives you gentle bites when you get them wrong. on another note, he's noticing that you’re getting more and more wrong, all with a smile on your face.

carmy sometimes invites you to the beef near closing, on days where he feels like his head won’t explode immediately after cleanup, just for you to crawl up on his lap while he does paperwork. he knows he stays too long sometimes, too focused on making sure the place doesn’t go to shit, but he also can’t stand the thought of being away from you every time.

carmy learns that even when he doesn’t invite you, you’ll show up if he’s there after midnight. he lets you drive him home (after a good amount of complaining) and take care of him.

carmy isn’t sure how to express his love for you, verbal affirmations feel like they’re not enough, not compared to how much you mean to him. so he cooks, parts of your personality is somehow always in dishes. he draws. you, but also things that remind him of you and leaves them in your living room.

carmy thinks he controls himself well until the next morning when he sees the line of love bites from your neck to the insides of your thighs and flushes extremely red, babbling on about how he’s sorry. he’s not sorry, because those marks never fade and even seem to multiply.

carmy stays between your legs for hours, you practically have to physically pry him off when it’s too much, he listens to your overwhelmed mumbling with a huge, dazed smile, his face covered in your arousal. bonus points for when you tug him back up by his hair because that is when he’ll let out a desperate whine and press his mouth to yours hungrily.

carmy gets offended when you think he won’t want visible love bites, he will get teased, but he also will tell people (mostly richie) to fuck off. he now regularly sports marks on his neck (and torso and thighs, but that’s not for anyone other than you to see).

carmy holds your jaw with his hand as he fucks you, just so you don’t hide your face and those pretty sounds that spill out. his thumb is half pulling your bottom lip and half in your mouth to keep it open.

carmy tries to keep his eyes on your face, he really does, but they keep trailing down to the bounce of your tits, to your squirming form, and before he knows it, he’s dipping his head down to leave marks all over your chest, letting out obscene noises.

carmy hugs you tight afterwards, then his hands rub over your legs to comfort the shake before he eventually picks you up to carry you over to the shower. he’s tired himself, but somehow that’s forgotten when you’re letting out small hums and whines as he cleans you up in the shower. safe to say you have to clean up all over again before getting out of the shower each time.

idk what this is. are these even headcanons? should some of these be turned into blurbs? am i just daydreaming about dating him? who knows!

thank you @uzmacchiato for the dividers !

[thirsty-lakedream]

Mask, Off

My boyfriend has had this thing for mascots for the longest time. He says he likes the idea of hot sweaty men hidden under layers of foam and fake fur. And though the idea of someone hidden behind a mask is a bit of a turn on, I never really got it. Still, I thought I could use my powers to good use.

We were out watching the state college’s football game against a rival school. And though the game was in full-swing, Dennis’ eyes were glued to their mascot, some kind of muscled bobcat in a tight football uniform, running up and down the field. I leaned over in my seat to his ear and whispered, “I have an idea that I think you’ll enjoy. In 30 minutes head to the team locker room for a surprise.” He had a confused smile on his face and nodded.

With the plan set, I got up from my seat and walked to a hidden alcove tucked behind the stands. I began to chant an incantation I learned, one that would allow me to astral project my body and possess people. After repeating the mantra I opened my eyes, finding my spirit hovering over my now-unconscious body, sitting limp on the ground. No one else would be able to see me, not in this form at least.

I flew my way over back to the game and onto the field. There, I saw the mascot standing by the sidelines watching the game play out. Using my new ghastly form, I snuck up behind him and began pushing into his body. Quickly, I began possessing the mascot, rather the person inside the suit! From an outsiders perspective, it might’ve just looked like the bobcat was performing a jittery, flailing dance. In reality though, I was subconsciously putting the owner of the body to sleep deep inside of their own psyche so I could take control. It only took a moment before I had full mobility, controlling him like a puppet. I found my vision blocked by the large bobcat mask, with only a slight view through the costumes mouth. I could feel the stuffiness of the costume clinging onto my new body, causing me to feel like I just entered the sauna.

Trying to look inconspicuous, I made my way under the arena to where the team’s locker room was. Though I was the one driving the body, I was able to recall memories and details of whoever’s life I possessed, so I knew for sure that it would be totally deserted. Inside the locker room I made my way into the bathroom. Taking my mask off I could see who I was in now, and-

Damn, am I not a stud.

Who would expect that the guy under is so hot. Maybe I’m starting to understand why Dennis was so into this? I might just have to stay in after the game and see what else this body can get into. Well in any case he’ll be here in a few minutes; and when he does the real fun can begin! Maybe I won’t reveal myself just yet. Instead as he enters I’ll ‘catch him sneaking in’ and he’ll have to pay me back with a blowjob. Or I could punish him into the putting on mascot costume, suffering the pain wearing the second-hand sweaty suit, pretending I don’t actually know that’s his secret fantasy. Whatever the case, I just have to keep an eye on the clock. I’m sure the sport fans will notice if their beloved Bobcat is gone for too long!

[moonit3]

yandere! batfam x batgirl! reader

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: after getting shot during a dangerous mission, you found yourself struggling in having a ‘normal life’.

ᯓ★ WARNINGS/INFO: gn! reader, yandere elements, some angst, mentioned death and resurrection, violence, an original character make her debut and some things that I can’t really remember, a curse word. also batlet is a play with the word ‘starlet’ which basically means a star in ascension.

ᯓ★ A/N: well, the second part is here! I got way too excited in writing a continuation from my first post, but I swear I am taking it slowly and nice. next post will be either with an original concept or my in law are obsessed with me! so keep an eye open!

three months.

that’s how long it's been since you last wore the batgirl costume—and just as long since the entire family started treating you more gently.

from the moment when the others heard the news of your almost death, they became more permanent figures at your daily routine. even dick, who didn’t live at gotham anymore, began showing up with his long hours conversations about his own problems and new work from bludhaven.

“leading the titans has been such a headache,” he’d say, throwing himself onto the couch and casually swinging his legs over your lap as you were trying to read the newspaper after a long day after school. “garfield and sally are always arguing over the dumbest things! can you believe that? they act like children! not they you’re irresponsible or anything, [name]—but you get what I mean, right?”

you just nodded, too tired to talk. your mind can’t focus on anything else other than the newspaper in hands. more specific in a certain headline from one the articles.

BATGIRL VANISHES: ONE OF THE CITY’S PROTECTORS MISSING FOR THREE MONTHS

the article itself didn’t speak much—just speculation, quotes from scared citizens, and a blurred rooftop photo of yours from a year ago. from what you read, most of gothamites thinks you are dead. great.

you folded the paper in half, jaw clenched before throwing the newspaper away, not bothering to look where it lands. a sigh comes out of your mouth, trying to stay calm as your heart beats faster.

the bullet wound in your shoulder has long since healed, leaving behind only a small scar. to the public, it’s nothing more than a skating accident—an easy lie, they accept it without question. but your family, the ones who know the truth, never seem to let it go. the scar may have faded, but to them, it still bleeds.

it took an extra couple of minutes before dick realized that you weren’t paying attention to his rambling, and so he sat on the couch. one of his arms wrapping around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest as he kinda forced you to rest on him.

“why the sad face, batlet? did someone got your attention other than your dear older brother?” he asked, giving you the biggest smile possible when kissing the top of your hair.

dick acts like he doesn’t know why you’ve been so out of yourself lately. in fact, everyone in the family knows why you are acting so tired in the couple past of months.

you silently shake your head when dick pulls you for a hug, “i’m tired of just spending time in the hideout with barbara and acting as tim’s hacker in my free time. don’t get it me wrong, it’s fun learning how to alter the academy’s menu to fries and pizza… but I want to go back and patrol the city as batgirl.”

his expression shifted—brows tightened with sudden intensity as he looked at you like you are the most all, fragile person in the world. (not that you are—after all, you’d taken down men three times your size.) still, that didn’t matter when he reached out and gently ruffled your hair. like you needed his protection anyway.

“well, I think it will happen faster than you think.” those aren’t the words you wanted to hear, but it does bring you some kind of relief when realizing that dick might be not as overprotective as father and barbara are. “but for now, how about we watch some movie together?”

you nodded, “yeah, i think that will be fun.”

lunch break has been your favorite part of the day ever since you first set foot in Gotham Academy. if anyone asked why, you’d blame it on the meals—how the academy’s private chefs always prepared something warm, delicious, and way better than anything a normal cafeteria could offer. but the true was simpler: you just want to be alone

being adopted into the wayne family made you an instant headliner within the academy’s walls, whether you liked it or not. the surname came with a heavy weight, whispers and expectations comes as a packet. because of that, you wish for at least five minutes where you aren’t someone’s curiosity.

but unfortunately, that isn’t the case always.

three months ago, you couldn’t be batgirl anymore, a tragic moment in your twelve years of living. but, you also gained the opportunity to make a friend, a real one.

“[name]!” safiya’s voice echoed through the academy’s halls halls as she jogged after you, careful not to trip over the hem of her skirt. she isn’t exactly the most athletic student, but she managed to cover the distance surprisingly fast—just to catch up.

“i cant’t believe you left me behind! you know i’m a slower eater eater,” she juggled, catching her book bag with dramatic offense.

you nearly laughed. safiya—though she preferred to be called safi—looked furious, but her soft features and slightly puffed cheeks, it was hard to take her seriously. she is two years older than you, but at times like this, all you could think is how ridiculously adorable she is.

“sorry, safi.” you replied, letting her pinches your cheeks as a ‘punishment’ as she always did. “but everyone began approaching me in the cafeteria and i just had flee the scene!”

at your response, safi lets go of your cheeks—but not before giving your hair a playful tousle. her dark eyes rolled as she watched you trying (and fail) to smooth it back into place, only make it worse with each attempt. she bit back a laugh, lips twisting with amusement as she crossed her arms and shook her head.

“I accept your apology,” she said with a dramatic nod, slipping her hand into yours before pulling you down the hall. As expected, she was eager for her daily round of exploring the academy before lunch ended.

“But now,” she added with a spark in her eyes, “I have to show you something I found!”

Safi dragged you through corridor after corridor, occasionally bumping into other students along the way—not that she seemed to care. Her focus was locked on whatever mysterious destination she had in mind. No matter how many times you asked, though, she refused to tell you what it was, only flashing a mischievous grin as she led you deeper into the maze of the school.

it’s only what you think to be ten minutes or so that you finally arrived at the so called mysterious spot. and of course, it didn’t disappoint you.

a trophy case—tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling, and just bout the size of the storage room back at the manor. to make it even more impressive, it is packed from end to end with gleaming trophies and plaques, mostly of them earned through sport victories.

safi rambles about it, already discussing how the gotham should’ve more trophies in sports if wasn’t for metropolis. her warm brown skin almost glows as she continues to talk regarding how much the academy has lost its reputation in sports, even going as further to proclaim that if she becomes a manager of the american football team, gotham would return to its glory.

even with safi’s words being interesting—almost inspiring, you couldn’t help but focus on a certain plaque on the trophy case.

ACADEMIC EXCELLENCE AWARD

presented to

JASON P. TODD

for archiving the highest overall academic score in Gotham Academy history

“my brilliance is forged, not born with.”

— awarded with distinction, year 12

your heart sank the moment you eyes saw the name etched into the plaque. jason. bruce’s second son—and of course, the robin who came before tim.

a hero whose existence only seems to appear in whispers as father and the others refuse to talk about him, but a tragic event that took place on the wayne family according to the public’s eyes. it almost comical that you’ve learned more about jason from strangers than your own family.

“a good kid, a bit sketchy and easily irritable, but still a great student during his time at the academy.” said your science professor once, smiling when telling you how smart jason was.

“he showed me the middle finger during class many times, but he also fought the students who used to bully me back when I was a senior.” a professor assistant told you, even going as further to show the photos of the bullies after jason beat them.

“sometimes i think he would become a teacher,” the headmistress, an old but elegant woman replied when you asked her about jason’s personality. “of course, he had a lot problems and personal issues from what i could tell from the time he attended gotham academy…but at the same time, i also could tell he has working hard to have a good life within the walls of the academy as well with your family.”

that’s all there. everything you know about it jason comes from people who never truly knew him. professors, students, even the headmistress—they all have opinions, sure. but none of them spoke to who he really was

all their words were about the version he showed in public—the polished wayne kid, the student, a boy behind the famous surname. but not the jason your family knew. not robin. they didn’t know him at all.

all of that are about how he portrayed himself in public, under the wayne name and not as your family knew him. not as when he was robin, those people truly don’t know him at all.

“[name]?”

you turn to face safi, her expression no longer a happy one when stepping closer. she takes a handkerchief from her jacket pocket to clean the tears out of your cheeks. when did you start crying? as she finishes cleaning your face, safi put her handkerchief away.

her dark eyes soft when seeing how emotional you’ve become and it doesn’t take much time to her to understand why. even as a transfer student, she knows about the tragic end of bruce wayne’s second son.

“come on,” she slipping her hand into yours once more, this time more slowly and carefully. as you notice, safi is being more cautious in interacting with you now. “we should head for the gym, i heard the professors and the headmistress will do an announcement. something about how the table tennis team is going for the nationals.”

you nodded, letting safi take the lead. not bothering to speak up, not when your mind is too far behind to think about anything else other than the brother you’ve never met.

sometimes you wonder, would jason see you as a younger sibling if he hadn’t die?

“[name], sweetheart,” bruce says, voice low as he swallows dryly, refusing to meet your eyes. his hand gently brushes through your hair—a small and familiar gesture meant to soften whatever’s coming next. “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

you tilt your head, already suspicious as the pieces start to click. and then, right as you thought, an unknown man steps out of the shadows of the batcave (because of course he does—everyone insists on doing dramatic entrance around here). his head lowers, hand stuffed into the pocket of his civilian clothes, but you catch the tension in his posture immediately.

bruce gently takes your hand, guiding you a few steps closer to the man.

the mysterious man is tall—like father—broad-shouldered and built way more than dick or even father if you believe. scars mark his face and part of his neck like worn-out stories of past troubles. but what truly catches you off guard is the streak of white in his dark hair—a sharp and unmistakable line that stands out.

“hmmmm…ugly hair.” the words slip out before you can stop them, and immediately both adults in the hideout turn to stare at you like you’ve said something truly offensive.

father’s grip on your hand tightens—just slightly—but more than enough to serve as a silent reminder: be nicer.

“i-i mean,” You stammer, backpedaling, “who are you, uh…mister?”

the mysterious guy recompense himself, taking a deep breath before finally introducing himself. “well, i’m….i’m jason, your older brother.” your self proclaimed brother watches your face almost dropped to the ground, knowing bruce is probably the reason why you’ve pass out with the information.

your gaze, flocos back and forth between jason—your-no-longer dead brother—and your father, again and again, trying to make sense of the impossible scene in front of your.

then the pieces of this weirdly out puzzle start to fall into place, slow at first, then all at once. your head, small compared to the rest of the family, didn’t take much to make everything click on place.

“wait,” your head whip back to jason, this time locking eyes with him—those sharp, unmistakable blue eyes. you try to look imitating, staring him harder and doing your best to look intimidating (or at least as intimidating as a twelve years old can). “you’re the red hood!”

jason doesn’t deny it. he just nods, his gaze shifting away like he is already embracing for what’s coming.

“and you fucking shot me!” you shout, swinging your foot and kicking him hard in the ankle with every ounce of strength you have.

he stumbles, he stumbles hard, nearly losing his cool just enough to almost fall over. “OW—okay, what the hell, that actually hurts!” he mutters, learning over the batcomputer as rubbing at the spot like he hadn’t just been almost taken down by a middle schooler.

“you shouldn’t be here, you are meant to be buried not standing here like nothing happened!” you snap, turning on your father now. “why did you bring him home? he is a danger to gotham’s city and a lunatic!”

bruce takes a deep breath before saying anything. his eyes staring at you, hoping that you would just stay calm and apologize to jason, but he knows that you have the right to be mad in a situation like this. that’s why, he decides to take a different approach.

“well, jason is here because he wants to apologize.” he said, catching you and jason off guard—who even stood up without complaining about the pain you’ve caused him. in another hand, you look to unsure to believe those were father’s initial intention. “now, now, i know it’s hard, but jason could you please apologize to your sister? i know you’re mature enough to understand that your previous actions hurt your sister in the past. both mentally and physically.”

jason nodded, still reluctantly in interacting with the kid who appears to be ready to kill him, but he knows that he should admits his fault. especially if that makes the so called kid friendly with him.

“im sorry, okay?” he said, trying to sound apologetic—more polite than usual, even. he went as far as to kneel down, bringing himself to your height.

“i messed up…a lot of things a few months ago. like, turning gotham into a territory of gang wars, hurting you, and—uh—almost blowing up part of the academy…”

wait—what?

“but i want you to know that i’ve changed. as much as a person can change after being killed and then dragged back to life,” he said with a crooked smile. “it’s a lot, i get it. but shooting you? that was definitely a mistake. especially since you’re, you know… still a kid.”

so he is saying that he wouldn’t feel guilty for having shot you if you were eighteen years old or older?

he reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear—searching for face for some sign of forgiveness, or even for sympathy.

and luckily, jason saw how less angry you seem towards him. a hidden blush on your ears, a sign that you aren’t that much angry at him anymore.

“that’s why i am here,” he said softly. “i mean it—I’m sorry for hurting my little sister. that guilty worm go away. it just…sit there forever. so yeah, i’m sorry, [name].”

he extended his arms, smiling at you. it’s obvious he wants a hug, one that will—maybe make a new relationship bloom between the no-longer-dead son and the no-longer-batgirl kid.

and bruce just stares at the scene from the sidelines, secretly hoping you won’t try to kick jason anymore. at least for today.

“so, how about a hug?” jason asked, giving you his best smile. “then we can go out for some ice cream. alfred told me that you love mint chocolate—which is weird, but i am willing to try it for you.”

a smile grown on your lips at the offer, almost ready to accept the invitation. it’s almost as the hideout shines with the glow of your face when your words are vocalized.

“no, thanks.” you replied, making the two adult staring at you again, this time like you said something even more repulsive than before. “i mean, it’s a nice gesture and offer, but i gotta go and study with tim for my incoming chemistry test.”

you pull both jason and father into a quick hug—brief, almost rushed—before turning on your feet and heading straight for the exit. no time for lingering.

they stay behind, watching silently as you disappear up the stairs. and the moment you reached the living room, your voice echoes through the manor.

“tim!” a high pitched voice of a twelve years old easily makes the crows around the manor flee in response. “you aren’t going to believe what just happened!”

“so, jason is alive?”

“yes.”

“and he is just at the batcave, talking with bruce? like nothing has ever happened.”

“yes, again.”

tim stares at you like you’ve grown horns, almost in disbelief when learning such news coming from you. what was meant to be a studying session with his younger sibling turned to be a moment of clarity of how jason got resurrected because of the al ghul (not that you mentioned anything, but it doesn’t take much for tim to put the pieces together).

a sigh of disbelief came from his lips when getting out of his chair, joints protesting with every moment. he muttered under his breath—something about the killer croc and the sewers—before sitting down at the carpet beside you. the ache is clearly a souvenir from his last patrol with killer croc.

he settled down in front of you, eyes scanning your face before a hand of his gently came to rest on your shoulder—the same one that still held the scar.

a scar that isn’t just your. it is a reminder of a night that everything went wrong. of how he and bruce had failed to protect you.

and definitely the reason why father still hadn’t let you return to the field.

a moment of silence takes of the room, but it’s easily broken with a question that has been haunting the manor for the past couple of months.

“do you think that he will allow me to return as batgirl?” you asked, already knowing the answer to that, but still struggling to accept the reality. after all, hope is the last one to die.

tim doesn’t answer, not immediately. after all, he had this same conversation with bruce weeks ago, asking if he could take you to patrol some safer streets of gotham just to put you back on track.

and unfortunately, he has received the same answer as you.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, pulling you for a hug when seeing the tears coming from your eyes. his hand caressing your hair when hearing you sob against his chest. “i’m sorry, [name]… but there is nothing else you can do about it.”

the manor suddenly become colder that day.

[snailfen]

cohesive list of everything i want to talk about in ii s4e1

- so nothings been the same since the shimmerlight was removed from mephone?? obviously this makes sense, duh, meafterlife definitely wouldnt last without it, but im worried that something else could be up with mephone in the real world. Im sure we'll see what he and 3GS are up to later at some point but thats GOTTA mean something. RIGHT???

- are tape recorder and jack of spades also character clones/understudies? maybe my mind is glazing over something here but if they are my guesses is tape recorder is a microphone or cabby clone and as for jack..... yeah i got nothing lol. maybe a paper clone but thats all i got. bonesaw also strikes me as a clone for knife. buuuuuut I'd be fine if they weren't all related. points at magnet. where'd you come from. who are you.

- lowk i dont wanna talk about that damn play because of the discourse its causing. but i do wanna say this seems to be taking place... not long after the finale. Its clear toilets still grieving mepad pretty hard. hell, its clear the wound is still fresh on taco and marshs minds later on. the dedication ceremony stage is still up for gods sake!! but man, toilet seems to be taking it the worst if how he acted on stage is indicative of how he acts whenever mepad is brought up. it figures- toilet couldn't bear to go to the ceremony and assumingly the funeral. but man, poor guy...

- "I can never get those years back." ohhhhh box <:(. yeah no not everything is set right for her yet now that shes alive and that makes a lotta sense. those are years she could've spent doing anything she wanted. but she stayed dead. Hopeless and trapped and alone. poor thing.

- METAG IS HERE!!! or at least one of them? i hope both of them are here i liked those tortoise beetles. since its obvious they weren't on the ship (we didn't see them fall when it disappeared) it'd be really funny if they were sent to find cobs, found out he died and were like ohhhh nooo. anyways can we party with you guys now ^_^ (translated from happy machine sounds), and then realized that just like everyone else on this island they desire a purpose to guide their entire existence, and started following suitcase around as her lackey (because she killed cobs aka their former boss and therefore freed them of Working for him), and suitcase (uncomfortable with having a lackey) was like well i guess you can be part of the safety committee...??? and THATS why theyre there. I love metag :)

- bomb so prettyful with his new fuse. im adding a pretty braid to my gijinka design for him :D

- I WAS RIGHT!!! vibha melkote ended up inheriting soap since she already does her singing!!! im gonna be honest here i.... prefer vibha's soap voice 😭 her old one will be missed dearly but her new voice is so cute!!! so happy for her. mic still has yet to be recasted.... good luck to whoever they get honestly hailey brought something special to the table each time she voiced mic 😔

- SUITCASE MUSICAL NUMBER WHO CHEERED 🍻🍻🍻🍻🍻 SHES SO QUIET LMAO 😭 i love how oj and cabby have no problem projecting their voices but suitcase (for obvious reasons) is as soft-spoken as always. her gentle voice is cute tho. AND SHES SO CUTE IN THIS NEW ARTSTYLE GRRRRRRR RRAARARARARRARRAGAGAHHGRGRG

- oh my god bows new asset is PERFECT. SHE FINALLY HAS PROPER PROPORTIONS NOW !!!!!! thank GOD!!! i love that her torn ends now seem to eerily flow like her tail oh my god its PERFECT. adds so much to her ghostly vibe. THANK YOU WHOEVER CAME UP WITH THAT.

- Marshmallows 15th Worst Day of Her Life just dropped. oh my god no one ever listens to her shes going to end up being so right about all this 😭😭😭 NO ONE LEARNS ON THIS DAMN ISLAND. MARSHMALLOW IS ALWAYS RIGHT FOR FUCKS SAKE !!! IDIOTS

- apparently in ii18 when cobs tears away three of his kernels to get dough off of him, he only crushed two of them afterwards, the third kernel bounced away.... so Thats How Poppy Happened. cant wait for episode 2 to come out i NEED to know more about them. they share my birfday :)

[ilikekidsshows]

I hate that in Revelator Marinette saw what Alya's reaction was to the secret Marinette is keeping, and yet at the end Marinette whimpers at an Alya who lost her memories that she's afraid that Alya could possibly ever hate her, so Alya is made to unknowingly invalidate her previous feelings so Marinette is calmed into upholding the status quo by not attempting to fix the thing Alya called her out for.

That is.. the SECOND time Miraculous used a method like this to validate Marinette by not letting her partners know what they are actually talking about.

Adrien in Kuro Neko and now Alya in Revelator.

It was already a moral disaster the first time which the show hever recovered from, but pulling that a second time is a level of unwillingness to let Marinette face actual consequences I can't wrap my head around.

Just don't write conflicts like that into the story if you don't wanna challenge your MC at all?? What the point of writing these conflicts just to always break morality's back to instead let Marinette have her way through deliberate and selfish deception.

It even ruins any weak argument that could have possibly been made for Marinette having "learned her lesson" ever since she did it to Chat Noir "so clearly she doesn't need to be called out for it and take accountability! She totally grew past that so it would be unfairly punishing her for something she already flawlessly matured from"

She's doing the same shit to alya now, clearly she hasn't learnt ANYTHING from the season 4 Ladynoir conflict. Not to mention how she's once again reducing Chat Noir to nothing but an agenciless tool in Revelator. She pretty much said that she knows that Chat wouldn't agree with her secrecy towards Adrien because she fears that letting Chat know would result in him telling Adrien behind her back which leaves her feeling helpless because she couldn't stop him as unknown civilian person.

Alya at least only decided to use Chat for something he wouldn't agree with because Alya made it very clear that she's expecting of Marinette to come clean. And considering that Alya's first question was "does Chat Noir know?" it's actually a relief to have canon proof for once that someone gives a damn about Chat's dignity.

Cause from Alya's side, you can genuinely say that she only went with deceiving him here because she was fully convinced that it wouldn't last long due to Marinette coming clean and explaining everything. That's the best partnership and leadership Chat Noir has received in seasons... and, mind you, this still isn't GOOD good. It's just for once a type of deception I can work with because it still upholds a moral standard, particularly because Alya makes it clear that she doesn't want this secrecy to last. It's a temporary deception that already included the intent to properly make up for it.

That's the bare minimum, but in comparison to Marinette's writing, it's a heaven sent.

So obviously, Marinette had to be written to ruin everything by manipulating Alya into validating her instead and letting her trust in Marinette to make up for the harm being done be completely in vain.

---

It's dramatic, that's why it's there. Like, the one thing that Astruc can be said to be good at is setting a scene, because he's a storyboard artist by trade. He knows how to make a scene pop out and be memorable, how to invoke strong feelings in the moment, and it all falls apart as soon as you know this trick and look at the scene in question in relation to the rest of the episode and series. There is no consistency, the buildup and payoff fall flat and the context makes these dramatic scenes annoying or abhorrent based on the intensity of bending over backwards to validate Marinette involved.

Like, I first noticed this tendency of the show in the New York Special. Everyone praised the reunion scene at the end of the special and all I could think of was “we still haven't discussed Cat Noir's trauma over killing someone, he just felt like he had to come back because Ladybug needed him”. That broke the magic for me, since then, every time I look at a dramatic scene in Miraculous, I am reminded of everything they left unaddressed or with how much ease and Marinette-prioritizing the scene will get resolved with.

Alya getting upset at Marinette is a powerful scene and vindicates the audience members who think she's gone too far. They love it. Then it gets wiped away and undone so that it won't influence the show, because we can't have Marinette suffer actual negative consequences. But the people still willing to believe in this show see that scene as evidence that the writers can do better. Marinette was called out (except the person took it back after a quick mind-wipe)! She wasn't easily forgiven (instead they wiped away all knowledge of her guilt)! Alya is holding her accountable (she can't with her mind wiped)!

[cceresun]

─── job application .

pairing : baby saja x gender neutral ! manager ! reader

summary : in need of a job, you resort to the most sensible option: selling your soul .

author’s note : chat this is my first baby saja piece and he has like no personality so bear with me. also idc if certain things aren’t canon or are ooc

─── wc , 0.6k + masterlist

Rejected . . . Again.

You never seemed to have any luck when trying to find a job. Not when you were fifteen— and definitely not now at nineteen. It was a miracle you had managed to land your previous job and keep it for as long as you did. But now you were on the hunt once more, and you have been for a while. But with no real experience or qualifications under your name, it was hard trying to at least get a callback from someone. On edge all day for the past couple of months, you wait for a notification or a call to come through. So far, nothing.

That was, until one faithful night during a night out with some friends. It had been a while since you submitted your last job application, so you didn’t bother in keeping your phone off of silent mode. There was no way— after so long— someone would call you back. And how wrong you were. You didn’t know how to act upon seeing the missed call. Should you call back or was it too late? Was it even a call back?

Stuck in your own thoughts, you didn’t realize you had called back the unknown number until you heard a voice on the other line. You soon learned his name was Gwi-Ma, and he offered you a deal. You could live a life of wealth and privilege, but in return you had to give up your soul and help manage his new project of sorts— his new up and coming boy band: the Saja Boys.

Baby who didn’t understand why Gwi-Ma felt the need to send the boys a manager when he felt they were doing just fine on their own. Yeah they had their struggles here and there trying to book interviews and manage public appearances, but they definitely didn’t need a whole manager.

Baby who was the last of the five boys to accept you as their manager. He’d give you a hard time, always telling you that if you couldn’t handle it the door would always be open. Baby who wasn’t as rude to you later on, but still made comments from time to time.

Baby who couldn’t help but steal glances at you whenever your back was turned to him. He’d deny it if it ever came up, but he wasn’t exactly good at hiding it. Baby who doesn’t know when he started tolerating you. Maybe it was when you finally bit back after one of his many crude comments or when you stood up to a highly nosy interviewer after they had asked some questionable things to the boys.

Baby who knows you aren’t exactly a demon, but aren’t fully human either. He can’t take your soul to Gwi-Ma like the others— because it’s already his. Baby who doesn’t know what type of deal you made with Gwi-Ma, but what he does know is that he hates thinking about the exchange. Hates knowing Gwi-Ma forever holds a part of you.

Baby who hides his jealousy upon seeing you interact positively with practically anyone, whether it’s the other Saja Boys or a fan. His attempts at hiding his feelings are pointless as he isn’t as discreet as he thinks he is. Baby who can’t keep the scowl off his face whenever you get too close to Romance or Abby.

Baby who’ll continue to reject the idea of having you as a manager, even when he’s always heard asking for you or seen right by your side no matter the place or time. Baby who might just actually like you a lot more than he’d like to admit.

© cceresun || don’t repost or translate my works without permission !

[rodent-diaries]

"You know I could hear you... Right?"

✓ Betty x GN Reader 🌶️

Acquaintances to friends... With benefits

Content Warning: Sensual massage, whispering in your ear, licking biting and scratching, she's lowkey (highkey) voyeuristic, edging, mention of sex with other people

𓂃 ࣪˖ ⋆.˚ ʚїɞ ⋆

It hadn't been a few days since Skylar had shown you how the Dateviators and the Date-a-Dex—on the nose names, I know—really worked, and you'd been shown around your own house that you'd already lived for quite some time, to be introduced to people who'd apparently lived there long before you'd arrived.

  You had already been witness to Dirk's and Harper's constant bickering, been patrolled by Dorian's numerous forms around the house—including the comically pocket-sized one—played games with Connie and Chance, gone to Eddie and Volt's bar, been in a way Stalked by Fantina, talked to the Narrator—The other one—and much, much more. You might've also learned a new thing about yourself the past couple of days: you have quite the serious hoarding problem. Before this week, you hadn't even been sure you had an attic or a water heater, but there's always something new to find.

  Alas, what most caught your eye in your sea of household Bachelors and Bachelorettes, was perhaps the most obvious of them all, the one you'd spent the most time with before you had even realized you were doing so: Your bed.

  Betty was one of the first objects in the house you met, and ever since you'd laid eyes on her full figure and tired eyes, you couldn't keep her out of your mind. Her arms and collarbone that faintly dusted with freckles caught your attention. You wondered if she hid more of them underneath her cozy looking attire, imagined how it would look like under the bustier fashioned out of your bedframe and headboard. Were her undergarments also made out of fluffed polymer, and hiding beneath them nethers in the same color as her attention-drawing hair?

  It was all you could think about when you headed to bed at night, and tonight, in specific, you couldn't resist the lingering temptation in the back of your head. You reached across your duvet, stretching over your mattress and grabbing your Dateviators from your bedside table, the sound of Abel shuddering in surprise not necessarily reaching your ears, but assumed, as you grabbed the oculars and rested them on your ears.

  Almost instantly, Betty caught your eye. Seductive is the word that comes to mind when you eye her position. She was laying there—on herself? You make a note to think about it later—head resting on one hand, as her elbow propped itself up onto a pillow, her other hand tracing lines with her incredibly manicured long nails over her thigh.

  "Well, hey there," the says in that tone of voice that sounds half tired, half flirty, like she'd been up all night, trying to think of ways to fluster you. Her speech hangs in your ear moments more than it should before you catch yourself from gaping, and her smirk makes your skin flush as your heart speeds inside your ribcage. "Couldn't sleep?"

  You stammer on your words for a second, blinking as if you're Mac trying to run a game on max graphics and buffering as you struggle to process it. You bring yourself to focus as you clear your throat and adjust your position, then tell her as smoothly as you can, "Uh... No. Not really."

  Betty grins. The corner of her lips raise even as she clearly tries to stop them for a moment, before giving in to whatever she found so funny—maybe your stuttering, your flushed face, your awkwardness while talking to her. Take your pick. "Having nightmares?"

  "N—no," you waveringly state, before you focus up your whole entire being to muster up courage and add, "Just... Couldn't stop thinking about you."

  Betty raises an eyebrow, then chuckles amusedly—Damn, that laugh sounds good in your ear—and bites her lower lip, the way she usually always does. "I couldn't stop thinking about you either. But in my case, that's because you were just laying there, and you couldn't even see me. I thought Would you feel if I touched you? Unfortunately, you grabbed the glasses before I could find out."

  Spurring out without thinking, you blurt out before she's even fully finished her speech, "You can touch me whenever you like."

   "Oh?" Betty hums, prompting you to elaborate further as she scoots in just a little bit closer.

  "I just meant—" you fumble out, shaking your head and stuttering as you try to come up with a way to correct what you blatantly meant in your entirety. "I mean... If you want to try and touch me when I can't see you, that's fine. I won't mind."

  "Hm," Betty nods, entirely unconvinced in your poor excuse, before she notes, "You're blushing."

  "A— Am I?" you ask with an awkward chuckle, now suddenly aware of how warm your body was. You pull on your pajama's collar, and realize you're laying in bed with a beautiful woman, while still wearing a shirt that read in bold: GIRLS ❤️ MY AUTISM SWAG, and a pair of old sweatpants. "Gee, I didn't even... Notice."

  "You're adorable," Betty points out, reaching out a hand to run across your chest. "And really tense. Have you been stressed lately?"

  "As stressed as someone who just got replaced by AI and lost their job can be," you shrug, averting your gaze from Betty's hand to try and ignore her touch—spoiler alert: it didn't work.

  "D'aw," Betty clicks her teeth empathetically, sitting up on the bed and getting so close to you, you start wondering if you really remembered to brush your teeth before bed tonight. "Do you need a massage? I'm told I'm... Good with my hands."

  You have to restrain yourself from yelling loud enough for your entire house to hear, Yes! Please touch me, Mommy! and instead reply, "Massages are nice..."

  "Here, sit up, rest your back against me, nice and warm," she instructs, guiding you to rest your back against her chest. It's an almost immediate reaction, you feel her bust press up against your back muscles, even past the wood, and you shudder out something short of a moan, before she even puts her hands on you.

  "Okay," you gulp, your shoulders tensed nervously as Betty trails her smooth fingers over your arms, softly scratching at your skin. You feel goosebumps wherever she touches, like your own body was craving this for so long, it feels the need to welcome her skin.

  Betty tiptoes her fingers around your biceps—which probably need more training with Dunk, if we're being fully honest here—and presses her fingertips against your chest, kneading and pressing gently, though just roughly enough to get you grunting and sighing under her hands. She palms your pectorals so vigorously, it's like she expects to milk you from that end. You feel kind of nervous to try and tell her you can't actually produce milk, and the metaphor refers to another body part of yours, before she moves on to start massaging your stomach.

  "B—Betty—!" you try and protest as her hands slip under your shirt, but it falls to deaf ears. Your moans are so loud now, you're certain half the objects in the house can hear you gasp and writhe under Betty's grasp.

  Your bed runs her tender, smooth fingers over your middle, her pinky ever so often pulling at your waistband, as you feel yourself already anticipating her from under your sweatpants. Before she can do anything of the sort, however, your attention is grabbed when Betty breathes flush against your ear, and nibbles on your helix like it's a sweet treat.

  "Betty..." you plead, practically whining in need as you grip the sleeves on her arms, pressing yourself deeper against her chest. "Please."

  "Please?" Betty repeats back to you, chuckling softly as she licks your jaw from behind. "Do you want me to touch you, like you touch yourself every night, when you think no one's looking? You know I could hear you... Right?"

  It's at that moment you realize that even living alone, you'd had over a hundred objects inside your very home, that were now all people, and they'd heard you touch yourself, and in Betty's case, probably seen it first hand. You wonder how many of them know exactly what you like to do to your own body. You take a moment to scold yourself for being so loud at times, then scoff as you throw the idea out the nearest Wyndolyn, and grasp Betty's sleeves like they're your lifeline.

  "Yes," you nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but who's really watching to care? Well, besides your whole entire house. Maybe even your neighbors, who knows? You're too much of a depraved pervert to worry about being watched. "Please, Betty, I want it."

  "Beg me for it," she hums. Her hands stop moving over your stomach, only resting over your skin that feels like it's seconds away from bursting into flames. "Beg me, just like you beg for release when you do it to yourself. And maybe I'll touch you."

  "Please, please, please," you state, over and over again. You lose count of how many times you say it, your brain shutting off like the good little dumb whore Betty wants you to be, and functioning on full autopilot, seeking solely the pleasure only she can give you. "I need it, Betty. I need you. So bad."

  Betty chuckles at that, biting her lip before she starts kissing down your neck, your collarbone and shoulder, her nails regaining movement to scratch and smooth over the skin in your pudgy, squishable stomach to purposefully leave behind marks.

  "That's good," she praises, slipping a hand beneath your sweatpants and smoothing her fingertips over the wet spot you'd managed to form in your underwear. "Are you excited, baby? All hot and bothered for me? Hm?"

  "Yes," you nod, gulping loudly as you buck up into her almost subconsciously. "Please Betty, I can't take this teasing anymore."

  Betty hums, pondering the idea over as she runs her thumb over the top of your privates, sending shudders and shivers up your body in pleasure. You moan, but it's all over way before you can enjoy it fully.

  Betty retracts her hand, licks over the sticky liquid you'd produced diligently for her, but then she kisses your cheek, pats your stomach like a dog after performing a trick, and she stands up.

  You watch as Betty walks away, your eyes following after her. It takes a moment to process, you only watch her figure hungrily, then you realize she's not going away to come back with toys, she's just leaving.

  "Betty?" you call weakly, your strained breathing louder than your own words. "Where are you going? I thought—"

  Betty turns back to you. You can see the flush in her cheeks as she smiles down at you, before she blows you a kiss. "I'll be hearing you, if you want to continue without me."

  "But—"

  "Ah-ah," Betty shakes a finger as you try to stand up, stopping you in your tracks. "You can take care of yourself, right? You're an independent person, you can resolve your problems without Mommy's help. You have other... friends, too, don't you?"

  You gulp, gaze flickering nervously as you realize she's referring to herself when she says the title, and not your actual mother. "Okay..."

  Betty smiles contently, and you're forced to watch her go. She opens the bedroom door, winks at you from the doorway, then closes it behind her. You're left in your room, looking around with your Dateviators on to realize there's really nobody here but yourself now.

  You look down at yourself, sighing quietly as you lower your pants. You blink, debating what to do—do as Betty says, and put on a show for her and the rest of the house to hear, or don't?

  You go over what she just said to you a moment ago, You have other... friends, too, don't you?

  You go to remove your glasses when you realize. You call for her, and almost instantly she's standing over you with a helpful smile, then she flushes as she realizes your current state.

  "Skylar..." you mutter, pulling at her clothes. "Can you help?"

[taevincii]

I love ur blog and hope you are well during these crazy times queenie. I also live for your Justin takes, what are your favorite attributes of Herb (non physical) 🤪🤪🤪

Thank you, babes. That’s so sweet of you 🥹 I hope you’re doing well, too! And I’m so glad you enjoy the nonsense I spew 😂😂

I have a few tbh so buckle up:

Disclaimer: I obviously don’t know him personally so these points are just based off of my observations from the little information we do have about him.

His confidence. I love that he’s so sure of himself and doesn’t let the opinions of others sway him. He does what he wants, moves as he pleases, and doesn’t feel the need to explain himself or answer to anyone. It’s the way he carries himself and appears to be so sure/secure in who he is. I love it.

He’s extremely intelligent. The kid had above a 4.0 GPA while majoring in biology while also being the starting quarterback of a top FBS program. The amount of information you’re consuming and tasked with remembering on a daily basis as a QB feels like a curriculum within itself. So as far as I’m concerned he was a double major and excelled in BOTH. Even in the league, his coaches are always in awe of his ability to pick up new things so quickly. He also excels at Chess which is such a mental game - you always have to be two steps ahead of your opponent and it’s one of the more difficult games to learn. The way his mind works is brilliant

His sarcastic/dry humor. I find that man hilarious - from talking in movies quotes to his deadpan responses to his funny facial expressions. I feel like where others try hard to be funny or land a joke, he literally says the first thing that comes to mind and the delivery is always 10/10. A man that can make me laugh without any effort is just so damn attractive.

His clipped laugh or sweet little chuckle (a compilation I’m still working on btw). I just think it’s so damn adorable and embodies his personality so well, it’s so subtle and shy and he always does it without making eye contact/with his head down. I swoon every time.

The way he takes accountability/is responsible. We’ve mainly seen this in his postgame interviews but he’ll always take the blame for a dropped pass, fumble, or missing a protection even if it wasn’t actually his fault. He never throws his teammates under the bus or tries to pass the blame (even when he’d be justified in doing so) He takes it on the chin and protects his teammates like a true leader.

He’s family oriented. He always talks about how much his family means to him and credits his parents and brothers for the success he’s had thus far. You can tell he truly loves them and is a great son/brother.

His drive. He’s extremely competitive and feels the need to succeed at everything he does. He’s willing to work towards something and not give up when it gets hard. I’m sure the competitive edge would get annoying sometimes (just ask Pat and Mitch 😂) but him being so confident in his abilities and striving to be the best at everything he does is very telling of his work ethic and the kind of man he is.

His humility. You can say whatever you want about Justin but I don’t think anyone can say he isn’t respectful. He’s a multimillion dollar quarterback, a face of a franchise, and one of the best players in the NFL and you would think he’s some guy just working on his family’s ranch back in rural Oregon 😂 the way he always thanks people for complimenting his abilities or credits his accomplishments to his family/teammates. He’s not flashy or arrogant, just a regular dude who wants to enjoy life, hang with his buddies, fish, and raise his chicken while throwing a football once in a while.

I have way more to say but this is getting long so I’ll get off my soapbox 😂

In conclusion:

I’d propose. Muah 😘

Should I do the physical next or should we keep it PG? 😏

[your-mommy-ems]

okay its time for me to put my two cents in the glorious rivals ring after gaining some context.

spoilers ahead :)

ok for starters.

i would like to ask you all to relax, take a chill pill this is literally not that deep, it is a BOOK, words on paper, let that sink in before you start screaming and turning on people because of an opinion. yes that opinion might not align with yours, but that does NOT mean you have to force/argue with someone to see it your way because you think you are right.

firstly why are we so pressed about character's behaviours??? you say you want more complex characters and you cant even handle a teen (is he still a teen lmao i dont remember) losing his mind because his gf just got kidnapped AGAIN.

yes violence isnt the answer and neither is what he said but, people are allowed to make mistakes. if i were jameson and my gf just got kidnapped and its bc some random person i've know for like two days that my brother just fell in love with was telling someone i hate info about things (again running of the little context i have) i would crashout too??? like we're not all perfect

yelling at lyra like that probably was a bit much (and hitting grayson but more on that in a sec) but he doesn't trust her and from what ive gathered he probably thinks he's trying to PROTECT grayson from someone he doesn't trust. has he even been given a reason to trust lyra? (i dont think so?) and grayson who's in love with her is trying to PROTECT lyra

and on the flip lyra is obvi being manipulated by *gags* eve and alice so we cant expect her to be in the know with everything so she's literally innocent in this lmao 😭😭

also are you guys LITERALLY forgetting that grayson and jameson used to fight in tig.... like the straight up just started tackling and fighting each other in front of avery??? im 100% sure grayson can handle a punch my guys. jameson was not VIOLENTLY ATTACKING him bffr are they not hawthorne brothers

you're hating on one character for having an outpour of emotions and practically forgetting all the dickish things good ol' gray was doing in tig and all that (i mean sure he wasnt throwing down and saying go to hell but still) characters dont have to be simply good or bad, they are entitled to a range of emotions and choices and some they make can be bad as long as they LEARN from those mistakes and apologise which im like 90% sure jameson WILL DO

you guys are acting as if jameson's done a full 180 and simply flipped everyone off and told them to fucking die while lighting a bomb thats underneath them all. like guys i cannot stress this enough ITS WORDS ON PAPER 😭😭😭 WHY ARE YOU GETTING SO HEATED ABOUT SOME CHARACTERS 😭😭

calm the fuck down, stop saying characters are ruined before you've even read the book, give it a chance before we start going on and on about how everything's changed (of course it was, this series was never about the core tig characters - grayson excluded - obviously we're going to see the original ones through a new light.) also JLB is entitled to do whatever she wants with this series its HERS just because you think she "ruined" a character does not mean its true

again bc some of you need to hear it:

just because you think your opinion is correct does not mean it is NOR doesnt it mean you can argue/force your opinion onto someone else. calling people names or insulting them because of an opinion ABOUT A BOOK

GUYS ITS A BOOK GET OVER IT 😭😭😭

[elfwhump]

homecoming (the long way around) - masterpost SIDE STORY: The Fall of Minyas the beatings will continue until morale improves

Written for BTHB: Kick Them While They Are Down. Okay, not going to lie. I'm really not sure I can call this a side story anymore. I mean, I think it's over half the total word count of this entire series at this post. If anything, I feel like Morwë might be a flashforward. I do intend to link up the timelines in some capacity eventually, but we've got a good few hundred years to go before we get there.

TW: VICTIM BLAMING, of an extremely objectifying variety (you can't be a victim because you aren't a person). Off screen dubcon/noncon (ambigious due to Ilmatar getting blackout drunk), abuse/violence, slavery. - Ilmatar doesn't know what to do with his new freedom, so he ends up getting black out drunk about it and waking up in the morning with an Imperial Guardsman he hates in his bed. Emperor Dovrat isn't thrilled about this.

Ilmatar does what Dovrat tells him, and he does it with ruthless efficacy. He puts the broken pieces back together, as best as he can, and for the parts he can’t fix, he finds people to put in place to fix them. Ilmatar is forced to admit it’s easier when he can just ask for what he needs, without having to frame every little thing as something the Emperor already wanted.

And he doesn’t have to beg on his knees. He can just… talk to Dovrat. Respectfully, of course, and the man doesn’t negotiate when he says “no.” Ilmatar learned that one the hard way. But it’s still— nice. His position is a respected one, albeit an unfree one, and Dovrat seems to be satisfied with his work, even if he’s forever distrustful of Ilmatar’s subservience.

It’s fine, as far as status quos go. He can even almost pretend the past few years haven’t happened.

Except he can’t, not really. Melech’s possessiveness was a shield around Ilmatar, keeping anyone from touching him. And him from touching anyone else, even if he wanted to. Dovrat hasn’t demanded that sort of service from Ilmatar— but he also hasn’t offered that sort of protection.

And the Guard is the same. Oh, they’re the same.

Dovrat accepts Ilmatar’s request to give Ofra a raise, agreeing that good service to the Empire’s most valuable slave is to be rewarded, although he limits the reward to her directly. Ilmatar misses the days of being able to do shit like that on a whim, but it’s something. Dovrat also allows him to arrange for Akiva to receive a new cloak, one woven by elven craftspeople.

Ilmatar doesn’t ask about the guard. He knows the answer will be no. It’s impossible for him to avoid noticing the fact that, after Akiva rescued him, the only guards Ilmatar gets assigned are from that majority. The ones that did take Levik up on his offer. If he ever had any doubts that Dovrat was doing it on purpose, they vanished the first time he saw Akiva in passing. The man wouldn’t meet Ilmatar’s eyes.

He gets to sleep in his own quarters, connected as they are to Dovrat’s. Mostly, he ends up sleeping on the floor, as far away from both the door and the bed as he can manage. He’d gotten used to sleeping there over Levik’s reign and— he just can’t bring himself to feel comfortable in the bed. Sometimes he sleeps in his office instead. There’s a part of hm, a part of him that seems to be growing louder every day, that wants to die. He doesn’t know why. Everything is back to normal, isn’t it? If anything, he’s better off than he was before. He got lucky, with Dovrat. With the coup. He’s fine.

At least Melech would fucking hold him.

Ilmatar can have his hair up now, doesn’t have to worry about it being molested every five seconds, and any sort of relief in that is short lived because he doesn’t know what to do with that. Doesn’t know what to do with any of this, really. Everything is better than it was, and he’s falling to fucking pieces.

He keeps working, because he doesn’t have any other choice. It’s work or think about shit and working is better. Anything is better than thinking. Better than wondering what the guards are thinking when he walks by them. When they walk behind him, so close. Too close. He hates it.

He cries, and he tries to get drunk, but the human alcohol is way too weak to make even a dent in him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. There’s so many people depending on him, his own and the various peoples of the Empire that he’s started to think of as home despite himself. Ilmatar can’t fall apart now.

But it feels like it’s too late for that.

He goes into the city with his new freedom for the first time to buy himself some much stronger alcohol. The sort that’ll actually do something to him. He wakes up the next morning with Eitan in his bed, and it’s maybe the first time he wakes up there at all for a good while. His memories of the night before are fuzzy, and he doesn’t know if he invited the monster in or if Eitan just helped himself to Ilmatar’s drunkenness.

Maybe it was both.

Maybe he wanted someone to use him again. Maybe he’s sick in the head, infected by some human disease. Maybe it’s been in him this entire time.

Does it even fucking matter? He has vague memories of being pinned down, but he doesn’t know if they’re from the night before or the past year or any damn number of other times. All the faces start to blur together, and they all manage to look like Melech. Ilmatar throws up. And then he cries, or maybe it’s the other way around.

Eitan is still asleep when Dovrat comes in. He must be a heavy damn sleeper, but even he can’t stay asleep when the Emperor comes into Ilmatar’s room and grabs him, dragging him out of Ilmatar’s bed, throwing him onto the floor. Ilmatar is down there too, covered in his own vomit and struggling with a hangover.

“You,” Dovrat says to Eitan in a downright murderou voice, putting a foot on the guard’s throat as if threatening to push down.

“The little whore was asking for it,” Eitan sputters by way of explanation, reaching a hand up for the foot. “It’s his fault. We’ve all seen the way he’s been, practically desperate for a good fucking, and you weren’t doing it, I was practically doing him a favor—“

“That. Is not your call to make.” Dovrat tells Eitan, pressing down enough to cut off the man’s airflow. He struggles, flailing around, eyes wide. Not so much fun on the other end of it, huh, Ilmatar thinks bitterly as his head fucking pounds. If a human tried to do what he did to himself last night, they’d be dead from alcohol poisoning before the night was even halfway out. He wishes he was dead right now, but that’s not much of a change.

Dovrat lets up the pressure as Eitan’s face starts to change color. “You’re fired. Consider yourself lucky I’m not having you executed for this.”

He takes his foot off Eitan, and Eitan stumbles to his feet, looking between Ilmatar and the Emperor for a second, finding loathing in both of their faces for entirely different reasons. Ilmatar spits what moisture he has in his mouth at Eitan, and the man practically sprints out the door, barely even half dressed.

Ilmatar is barely conscious right now, so he speaks without thinking, “Oh, so you’ll fire them for raping me now.”

Dovrat kicks him. Ilmatar’s brand flares up too, and he isn’t sure where one pain ends and the other begins. He laughs hysterically, and Dovrat kicks him again, harder. Ilmatar’s been so careful about following his previous rules this entire time, and he’s pretty damn sure the monster has been looking for an excuse to do something like this. Beat Ilmatar into submission, try to break him like Dovrat broke all his other pretty elven slaves. Like he breaks his soldiers.

But Ilmatar’s been bent for so long. Is there even anything Dovrat can do to him? Anything Dovrat can take from him?

(There's always more.)

“Shut up,” Dovrat tells him, and Ilmatar can’t. He’s barely breathing, between the gasps. He’s not sure if they’re laughs or sobs at this point. What happened? “You’re only digging yourself in deeper here, Mólado.”

“Fuck you,” Ilmatar gets out, through all the different sorts of pain. “Fuck you, fuck your brother, fuck Levik, fuck you.”

Dovrat’s down by Ilmatar’s face now, grabbing his hair by the half undone braid and dragging him up to a seated position against the bed. At first, Ilmatar thinks Dovrat is going to rape him here, now— Levik would’ve — but he doesn’t. He slams Ilmatar’s head into the side of the bed bed, leaving him even more dazed than he already was.

“For every defiant word out of your ungrateful, arrogant mouth, you’re earning yourself another lash.”

Ilmatar blinks. Out of all the indignities and violences he’s been subjected to—

No. Not that one.

“Don’t—“ Ilmatar starts, and Dovrat kicks him again, square in the ribs. Ilmatar coughs, much too lost in the pain to keep track of how many stupid things he’s said. But he’s sure Dovrat’s keeping good fucking track.

“I gave you your freedom in order to do work for the Empire, and this is how you use it? Wasting good coin on liquor? Corrupting one of my men?”

“I didn’t—“ Ilmatar gets out.

“And you have the audacity to claim he raped you? Do you think you’re a person, Mólado?”

Ilmatar’s brand is white hot against his back, his head is pounding over and over again, his ribs are bruised at best, probably broken in several places considering the weight of the blows. He shakes his head no, no, no, but he doesn’t know if it’s an answer or the dawning realization of what Dovrat is saying. He’s not just denying what Eitan did— his words are changing the parameters of what his brand will respond to.

If he keeps trying to think of what's happened as rape-- the brand will put him on the floor.

“You’re trying to tell me to believe that was consensual?” Ilmatar gasps.

“I am telling you,” Dovrat says, grabbing his hair in order to slam him against the side of the bed again. He screams. “That the idea such a notion could apply to a thing like you, a tool or a toy for my line, is patently absurd. What my nephew did to you was well within his rights, and you should be slavishly grateful that I do not intend on allowing the rest of the guard a repeat performance, or better yet, mandating it.”

Ilmatar tries not to shudder. Tries not to think of the thought of Akiva among that crowd, of the few guardsmen that stayed loyal mandated by royal decree to— he can’t even think the word in relation to himself because of the fresh wave of agony it sends shooting down his spine.

“You will help me fix my empire, and the only choice I am offering you is whether you will do it from the freedom of your office or in chains. Do you understand?”

Ilmatar wants to say yes, to nod his head, but everything is too blurry right now. In a way, this feels right. It feels so fucking good after the past months of ambiguity. He almost wants Dovrat to cross that particular line, to take pleasure from Ilmatar’s defenseless body like the others did because at least that would be some sort of touch.

“If you are in need of sexual gratification, you will come to me,” Dovrat practically growls. “You are not my servant who happens to be unfree, Mólado. You are, for as long as I reign, my personal possession. You would do well to understand the distinction.”

“Was drunk,” he says plaintively, thoughtless of the threats he knows Dovrat will follow through on. “He started it. Didn’t listen to — no. And didn’t want to— for him to make it hurt.”

Dovrat slaps him. “Fight next time. Fight so the thief who dares touch my property without my permission is forced to beat your submission out of you. If I find another man or woman in your bed that you haven’t resisted with every bone in your body, I will break you in ways that make everything you’ve endured thus far seem tame in comparison. Do you understand?”

Ilmatar shakes his head. He’s too out of it to understand. Maybe he could’ve guessed that getting drunk would’ve been frowned upon, but this? It’s not his fucking fault all the fight’s been trained out of him, that his response to someone that’s already hurt him is to acquiesce.

“What don’t you understand about this?” Dovrat asks, and each word feels like a slap.

“Why?” he asks, desperate. The word escapes against his will. He doesn’t know if this is going to count towards the total— something. Something about his words. Even if he’s been given leave to talk now, he’s pretty sure the words that spill out of his mouth next would be enough for a brutal punishment on their own. “What did we ever do to you? Don’t tell me it’s because of the rebellion, because we both fucking know Melech wanted it. You people always wanted this, and I don’t— why?”

Because we’re different? Because we’re good at shit and the idea of a people that’s both different from you and not dependent on you, that’s sovereign, terrifies you?

Dovrat doesn’t answer, just looks down at him, and that's so much worse. He wants another blow, wants the fresh pain. Fuck-- he tastes blood in his mouth.

“Please just— just let me go home. I don’t care.”

Ilmatar doesn’t even know what he means. They burned Minyas to the ground, once they’d looted it of everything it was worth— which was a lot. Melech made him watch as every beautiful thing they couldn’t strip for parts. Even if the city itself is ruined, though, it’s still that land. It’s still sacred, in a way he’d rather die a thousand times over than try to explain to the butchers that took it from him.

“You don’t have a home,” Dovrat tells him. “You have a place.”

We did once, he thinks, as the burning only grows stronger and stronger. He can’t tell if it’s pain or grief. One day, we’ll have it again.

Like he doesn’t know new humans have moved in since. Not even Ausniaks. That land, the land that no amount of abuse will take from his memory, isn’t even in the same polity as him anymore. Levik’s mismanagement. Is it really any better, that his homeland is in the hands of the Yurshim now? Fuck.

His people are right to hate him. How could he abide even a moment of this? Trade his dignity for better treatment? What’s even the fucking point, if humans can take both from him at a whim? Why has he been trying so hard to fix the very Empire that took everything from him?

“Then kill me,” he says. “I’ll come back, I won’t have any choice, but at least I won’t remember.”

“That’s not up to you.”

Dovrat hits his head against the bed again, and Ilmatar mercifully passes out.

[kakusu-shipping]

Oh bonus for fun fun I also did Tenna

Headcanons below the cut Again

Pre-Spamton

He was bought by the Dreemurrs, a newly married Asgore and Toriel, practically Brand New

He obviously was never a Child but he is basically the first Dreemurr child in many ways, as he spent a lot of time with them and learned all his mannerisms and quirks from them

He was obviously over JOYED when Asriel was born, he considered him like a little brother and wanted to do everything to help him grow well. Same can be said for when Kris was adopted

He was a lot more flashy and loud in this era, he was the hit new thing after all, and he was well adored and cared for

Near the end of this era is where he meets Spamton pre-big shot. Spamton brings him fanmail from other Dark worlds, as sense Spamton isn't a Physical Object like Tenna is, he's able to travel between places easily (so long as there's a computer there)

I like to imagine the bow-tie he's wearing is the Big Shot bowtie/Frayed Bowtie Swatch and Spamton sell you in Chapter 2

Post-Dess Disappearance

I never stated it in my last bunch of headcanons but the Big Shot Era is meant to be around the time Dess vanishes, which is where everything starts going down hill

Especially for Tenna

He's already starting to show signs of age, he's been sun bleached from sitting in front of the window so long, his screen is starting to distort, his colors just aren't as vibrant no matter how hard he tries

And of course suddenly no one in the house is getting along anymore

But it's not all bad! He's got his little mailman at least! and said Mailman is offering to help him into the world of modern technology!

Tenna's in this mindset at this point where he thinks He can fix whatever's happening in the Dreemurr house by just. Doing Better. Doing More.

He's got some Eldest Daughter Syndrome without the ability to actually carry the family's burdens on his shoulders

He's also loosing a lot of weight in this era. It's mostly stress, though a few (meant to be in good fun) jabs from Spamton did Not Help

Spamton also causes his Tail Insecurity (same way, it was meant to be teasing, Tenna's just sensitive), so he starts hiding it down his pants leg

He gains a lot of Bad Habits in this Era from Spamton, like Smoking and Drinking. He handles them responsibly, but they will come back later

All the changes to his outfit in this era were Spamton's doing to help him look more new and modern

Except for the de-saturation, that's just the affect Tenna has on clothes he wears. They're meant to be much brighter, to match Spamton

Post-Spamton

He really starts to fall apart after Spamton leaves

Especially sense it's right around the same time the Dreemurr's divorce went through, meaning suddenly Asgore was also gone

And not long after Asriel left as well

Tenna can't help but think everyone leaving all at once was his fault some how

He starts abusing the Bad Habits he picked up from Spamton, getting Drunk, smoking often, magnets, anything to distract himself from his long lonely days shut off in the living room

He also starts having... kinda violent outbursts

He'll just Explode at his staff, yelling and swinging his massive self around in very scary ways. Ramb tends to be on the receiving end of most of these, sense he still has a bit of Ego left over from being Kris' favorite toy

This is of course how Ramb eventually looses his tail, and his bite

These outbursts are followed immediately by crashouts, where all he does is sob out apologizes and shrink with his screen completely blank

He's lost a lot more weight, more noticeable because he's not getting his clothes tailored anymore. Not until the dark fountain opens again, of course. Gotta look good for the Lightners.

He still cares a lot about the Dreemurrs of course, they're his family, but at this point he's so lonely, so exhausted, so depressed... He just wants someone, anyone at all to care about him

Thus why he takes the Knight's Deal.

My silly little white men and their kinda fucked up history <3

Headcanons below the cut

Cyber Era

Spamton

Spamton to me is Trans in the same way Mettaton is Trans, in that Addisons are a Genderless/Sexless species, and thus Spamton is abnormal presenting as a Man

He spends pretty much all his time in this era being horribly anxious and depressed

He never has solid work and is constantly bouncing between odd jobs and helping the other Addisons with their work

He's always wearing some kinda hand-me-down from the other Addisons so nothing he wears fits him

Addisons have this sort of down feather-like soft fabric covering their body, it's full of fiber glass so they have a slight glow to them

He needs glasses So Bad but he doesn't know that

Ramb

As the only Power Strip in Cyber City he's sort of like the Foreman to all other Plug Boys

He's a fantastic union boss, enforcing breaks and vacation days, shifting who's plugged into every day to give them all rest

He doesn't mind his job and he's a good natural leader type it's just a little exausting

In his spare time, the little of it that he has, he learns Mixology from Swatch at a bar near by

When Queen takes over, she takes Swatch with her, closing the little bar near where Ramb works, and cutting off his only real friendship

He COULD go see Swatch at the castle, but he doesn't want to drag his old friend down now that they're in the big time

Big Shot Era

Spamton

The phone calls start, then he meets a man named Mike who acts as his business connection, and suddenly Spamton is making the big bucks like no one ever has

The first thing he does with his new big bucks is find some way to Modify his body

He adds extra joints and flexibility to his hips and chest, along with a LOT of padding, thus his fat tits and ass

He also gets Phalloplasty, said phallo is detachable for convenience, but it makes him feel euphoric so he keeps it on pretty much all the time

He's also experimenting with how tall he can make the soles of his shoes before it looks kinda silly

Bro got himself some Contacts!! He can See!!!

Sometime in this era he decides to tag along with Queen and Swatch to the Dreemurr house hold and meets Tenna, who he's an instant hit with

From then on he's constantly going back and forth between Cyber City and TV World, doing business in both places, along with Mike.

Ramb

Endearingly, this is his Douche Era

In Darkner-lore, Swatch invited Ramb to come along with them and Queen to the Dreemurr house for a live showing of TV Time (In lightner-lore, this is where Kris stole Ramb from the Computer Lab)

The attention he got from Kris was addicting, so he decided to hang around, making himself useful by becoming a "Mike" before mike was a thing

Basically he's like the Show-Runner/Producer/Director type, He makes sure everything stays on schedule and all the lighting/music cues happen on time, like the Mikes do in-game

He's really good at it too thanks to all the work he did leading the Plug Boys back in Cyber City.

And of course in his down time he plays with Kris

The amount of attention Kris gives him starts giving him a bit of an undeserved Ego, and he eventually ends up kind of negging Tenna a bit (kind of playfully, but also sort of truthfully, his intentions don't matter because it really does Get to Tenna)

Which then in turn enforces Tenna fear of being Abandoned, causing him to turn to Spamton to get more modern. He's not like, the ONLY cause for this fear of Tenna's, but he's certainly the most constant reminder of it

He's got this sort of "I know best" mentality now, along with the job position to control the flow of the show. He might be a little mad with power

Because of Kris' influence, Rambs ears start to flop (I imagine Kris is back and forth with playing with Ramb like a doll, and playing with him like a dog would a chew toy. They are Very Dogkin coded)

He also stops wearing shoes, again because of Kris' influence. None of the Dreemurrs where shoes in my mind

Also, Tenna has massive tail insecurity and makes it everyone else's issue, so Ramb keeps his wire tail tied up and tucked in his jumper. Not that he needs it for work anymore anyway

Disaster Era

Spamton

After obtaining the Shadow Crystal from the voice on the phone and seeing "heaven" through it, Spamton starts getting paranoid about the world and people around him

Which is only made worse when the phone tells him of Tenna's eventually demise, and how if he stays around he'll be going down with him

He bolts, abandoning both Tenna and Mike without a word

Out of fear for the prophecy, Spamton starts holing up in his room, hunched over the phone, only ever leaving to drink away the horrors he learns from it, or to go into the basement to pray

Queen, probably well intentioned but honestly who knows, takes him to the Acid pool to relax (against his will), which of course does the opposite

He looses pretty much all his fabric/skin, what little remains, mostly around his face and joints, he picks at till it's all gone

This of course also means loosing all the gender affirming body mods he'd gotten, except for his penis which he's SO scared of loosing he keeps locked away and doesn't wear anymore (not like he's using it after leaving Tenna anyway)

None of his clothes fit him anymore, and sense he's too scared and paranoid to leave his room, he never gets them tailored

His erratic behavior and dwindling profits (sense he's not actively working, just hiding) eventually get him kicked out of the castle, and to where we eventually see him in game

Ramb

Everything stared going down hill after Spamton ran out

Suddenly Ramb's jabs at Tenna were way more meaningful, with more bite to them, and Tenna couldn't stand to hear them anymore

He couldn't exactly Fire Ramb, he was still precious to Kris after all, even if playtime seemed to happen less and less often every day, so instead he demoted him

Ramb use to make drinks for Spamton and Tenna during their meetings, so Tenna decides to put that skill to use and stick him behind the bar

Sense Spamton left Mike behind when he fled, Tenna promotes him to Ramb's old position (which he eventually leaves, putting the "Mikes" we see in game in charge)

Sense he's on his feet all day now, he starts wearing shoes again

He also starts wearing his sleeves rolled up to remind him of better times (his arms are covered in dents from where Kris use to chew at him)

When the Dark Fountain opens Tenna is still so terrified that everything Ramb said was right, that he knows Kris better that Kris likes him better, so he takes away Ramb's ability to handle points at all to prevent him from being useful to Kris, even as a shop keep

At this point Ramb's given in to this new "Whatever Tenna says goes" way of running TV World (which up until Spamton left wasn't fully based on TV), so instead of directly fighting back he sets up the game backstage

He still has that kind of douchey "I know best" attitude, but it's mostly self defense and cope at this point.

At some point he lost his cord tail. I haven't really thought of how or why yet. I want it to have something to do with whoever's giving guys shadow crystals and why Ramb doesn't have one but still Knows Stuff, but the details are fuzzy atm

Or maybe it was Tenna during a meltdown idk I just know it's like kind of a turning moment for him.

[fatedroses]

Man meets Morbol

[italyveneziano]

Finally getting the answers to what the plans for HetaOni were honestly feels like this

[trainerethan]

In my imagination of red and leaf being twins and both autistic I think the only reason leaf doesn't have the same totally blank 😐 face as red is because she did the age old classic of practicing facial expressions in the mirror every day until she learned the basic ones. She also made her default expression a smile 🙂 to seem more approachable.

Unfortunately since the expressions don't come naturally to her and she had to learn them, the can come off as exaggerated/overly dramatic. Which is fine for some people but others find it equally as off-putting as reds poker face. It makes her a little sad when people dislike her because of it bc shes doing her best to fit in but can't seem to get it right.

She puts a lot of effort into masking at least when she's a kid-teenager but once she's older and has made more solid friendships she can let herself relax and not need to stress about it so much, although in social situations she may still slip back into old habits.

Red does not mask and never really has. I choose 2 believe his mom was really supportive and accommodating so he wasn't forced to hide his autistic traits unlike leaf. This is because in my au they are twins but their parents split and leaf had to stay with their dad. Who is not as understanding as their mom.

Idk if he'd be actually horrible to her but he was not as patient or understanding as their mom + leaf also just craved more friends and wanted to be able to socialize more so she eventually learned how. Red is content with the 4 people he knows (mom, oak, daisy, green) and prefered to mostly be alone so he didn't have that motivating factor to do it.

He was very content with having one friend, green, but he was def lonley during their "rival" phase when green stopped hanging out with him and was focused on trying to prove himself in some way only he understood or worried about. Along with that is green also being the master of masking for the most part. I don't see oak as being particularly accommodating and patient with him so while Daisy probably was, she's also not a parent so she couldn't be responsible for caring for green the way oak should've been.

As they got older green also craved to be seen as cool and popular amongst his peers so he started masking heavily and also distanced himself from red. Unfortunately he realizes that being accepted for a fake version of himself by mainly strangers is actually very lonley and he misses their friendship 😢 but atp he probably figures red wouldn't wanna be friends again bc of how green ignored him for so long so I think they don't become close again until After the gym challenge "rivalry"/red dissapearing/reuniting years later. So they were both missing each other a lot but both felt unable to reach out bc of the distance that grew between them when green pulled away. Anyways tldr green pro masker leaf trying very hard to mask but struggling a bit and red rawdogging his autism never masked a day in his life.