#light and color theory in romance

[bananzerssims]

Color Theory Legacy Challenge

Do you like color? Do you like legacy challenges that switch things up each generation? Do you like family cozy gameplay AND spicy dramatic gameplay?

Well, then this is the legacy challenge for you! Inspired by classic legacy challenges like the Not So Berry Challenge by @lilsimsie and @alwaysimming and Such Colorful Lives by @thepanplumbob, this legacy challenge is a ten generation legacy challenge where each generation's goals and personality are based on the color theory of their assigned color!

General Rules: 1. Normal Lifespan recommended 2. Each Heir must represent the color of their generation BUT Berry sims are not required (Though feel free to use them if you want!) 3. Keep money cheats to a minimum! 4. Each heir must complete their required Careers and Aspirations unless specifically stated otherwise 5. Each heir can be any of the previous heir's children, no matter the birth order, unless specifically stated otherwise

Generation One: White - The Beginning White symbolizes innocence, purity, and beginnings... People call you innocent… naive… But that’s not really the case. You know exactly how cruel the world can be so you strive to make it a better place. You pour yourself into your career and your children and your marriage, determined to spend your life helping others and to raise children that help others, too.Your house is always sparklingly clean and there’s always a hot meal on the table and an extra bed (or sleeping bag or couch) for sims who need it.

Traits: Good, Generous, Neat

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Career: Doctor

Other Requirements:

Gain and Maintain a Pristine Reputation 

Master Charisma and Cooking Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Baking Skill

Have a Good Friends Relationship with all your kids

Donate to charity every week, as much as you can afford

Have an idyllic romance with your partner that inspires your heir

Optional: Master the Parenting Skill

Continued Under the Cut:

Generation Two: Pink - The Romantic Nurturer Pink symbolizes love, compassion, and nurturing. You just love love! Your parents had an idyllic romance that taught you what love was supposed to look like. And you want everyone to have that kind of love! Including yourself! The problem is you just can't seem to decide which sim owns your heart! You have a couple lovers as a teen before finally settling down with your soulmate and raising a family together. 

Traits: Perfectionist, Lovebug, Family Oriented

Aspiration: Paragon Partner (teen), Big Happy Family (adult)

Career: Romantic Consultant (either branch)

Other Requirements:

Master Parenting and Romance Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Charisma Skill

Spoil your kids rotten (Rarely use the Punish option when correcting them)

Stay Soulmates with your spouse and go on one date a week

Optional: Have a love triangle as a teen

Generation Three: Red - The Passionate Actor Red symbolizes passion. You are a very passionate person, you always have been, but you’ve never cared for being kind. Not like your parent. You’re more of a hot-head, and tell it like it is. This means you make a lot of enemies. Who cares about Enemies when you have lovers? But none of those lovers are good enough for you, so you hop from one to the next, leaving a trail of broken hearts (and maybe one or two affair babies). For all your romantic exploits, your true love is the stage. You want to see your name up in lights!

Traits: Hot-Headed, Mean, Romantic

Aspiration: Villainous Valentine

Career: Actor

Other Requirements:

Master Romance, and Acting Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Mischief Skill

Have more Enemies than Friends

Have three kids, all with different married sims.

Have a negative relationship with all your kids

Become a 5 Star Celebrity

Optional: Interact with your kids as little as possible, have them raised by a sibling, grandparent, or nanny

Generation Four: Brown - The Steadfast Farmer Brown is the color of strength and reliability. You’ve never gotten on too well with your parents. Neither of them were ever really around, so as the oldest, you sort of ended up as your younger siblings’ default parent. Of course, your grandparents did what they could to help, but they had their own lives. So, when you could, you found solace in animals. Animals aren’t like people, they don’t hurt you on purpose.  When you’re finally old enough, you take your younger siblings and ditch your parents, moving to the countryside to finally have some peace. There, you build up a farm, with livestock and horses, and, of course, a family that actually loves each other.

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Rancher, Loyal

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Career: None, make money off your crops, livestock, and nectar

Other Requirements:

MUST be the eldest child of the Red generation

Master Horse Riding, Gardening, and Nectar Making skills

Own at least one pet (horses, dogs, or cats, it's up to you) at any given time

Own A Ranch or Farm with Chickens, Goats or Sheep, and Cows or Llamas

Once you reach Young Adulthood, run away from home with your younger siblings and raise them on your own.

Optional: do a Rags to Riches Challenge with this generation

Generation Five: Orange - The Childish Adventurer Orange symbolizes adventure and youthful passion. Okay, so you’re a bit of an oddball. Who cares? You delight in being unabashedly yourself! Your family was close knit, not just your parents and siblings, but your pets, cousins, and aunts and uncles as well, and they never tried to dull your sparkle. But the countryside, for all of its bucolic beauty, just doesn’t satisfy your love of adventure, so shortly after your adult birthday, you kiss your family goodbye and set off to see the world.

Traits: Adventurous, Cringe, Childish

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career: Athlete

Other Requirements:

Master Fitness and Rock Climbing Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Skiing or Snowboarding skills

Live in three different worlds (not including the one you were raised)

Marry an Active Sim

Go on vacation to each of the vacation worlds at least once

Optional: Gain the Adrenaline Seeker lifestyle

Generation Six: Yellow - The Paranoid Techie Yellow symbolizes cheerfulness and happiness, but also cowardice or fear. You’ve always been a little… cautious. You’re not adventurous like your parent, choosing instead to be a homebody. Social stuff and trying new things are just a bit too daunting for you. So, you find your outlets in tech and video games instead. The people in those circles don’t seem to care as much about your awkwardness.  And there, among zeros and ones and other geeks, you finally blossom, transforming into a sunny, bright person. You’ll never be especially social, but your small circle is enough for you.

Traits: Paranoid, Socially Awkward, Cheerful

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru

Other Requirements:

Master Programming and Video Gaming Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Handiness Skill

Have a club of fellow geeky friends who you get together and game with regularly

Move to San Myshuno and spend your whole life there

Have only two children

Optional: Gain the Techie lifestyle or the Geek trait

Generation Seven: Green - The Eco-Conscious Hippie Green symbolizes nature and vitality but also jealousy. You never quite fit in with your family members. While your parents and sibling all had a similar passion for technology, yours is a bit more nature focused. In fact, you're a bit of a hippie. There's no shame in that!  As soon as you're old enough, you leave the smog and traffic of the city behind and move to Evergreen Harbor, hoping to live a greener life, only to come face to face with a community in sore need of a clean up.  You've never been one to back down from a challenge so you roll up your sleeves and get to work. Unfortunately, you spend so much time on your projects that you don't have time for love… until one day you notice everyone else seems to have gotten married and had kids, leaving you behind! Will you ever find the love you desire before it's too late?

Traits: Recycle Disciple, Freegan, Jealous.

Aspiration: Master Maker

Career: Freelance Crafter

Other Requirements:

Master Fabricating and Wellness skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Herbalism skill

Clean Up Evergreen Harbor

Live an Eco-Conscious life (Off The Grid lot, tiny home if possible)

Stay single until you are an Adult

Have only one child

Optional: Marry a sim in the Eco Innovator Career

Generation Eight: Blue - The Ocean-Loving Artist Blue symbolizes inspiration and creativity. You’ve always been a bit of a gloomy sim. Maybe that’s because Evergreen Harbor doesn’t have much scope for the imagination. It’s nice that the town is all cleaned up thanks to your parent, but you often find yourself at the docks, staring at the sea. Here, it’s gray and green and not much else. While you find the colors you love in the gems you collect and shape, you find yourself wishing you could see those colors in your beloved ocean. So, as soon as you’re able, you make your way to Sulani. But once there, you discover that the islands are in a sorry state. You’ve learned a thing or two about helping the environment from your parents, so you roll up your sleeves and get to work.

Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Child of the Ocean

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Conservationist

Other Requirements:

Clean Up Mua Pel’am

Master Painting and Gemology skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Fishing skill

Live In Sulani and Marry a Native

Live on the Beach

Optional: Finish the Sea Shell Collection, become a Mermaid

Generation Nine: Purple - The Self-Absorbed Scientist Purple symbolizes luxury and ambition. You’ve never loved the podunk environment of the Islands. You want more, something grander, something befitting your genius. Something that makes you known. And what better way to do that than making the lives of sims better with your inventions? You wouldn’t call yourself a mad scientist, in fact, you’re very sane. It’s not your fault people don’t appreciate your genius!

Traits: Genius, Self Absorbed, Ambitious

Career: Scientist

Aspiration: Mansion Baron

Other Requirements:

Master Logic and Robotics Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Rocket Science skill

Max Scientist Career

Marry an Evil Sim 

Optional: Have an Alien Baby (doesn’t have to be the heir)

Generation Ten: Black - The Ending Black symbolizes death, darkness, and mystery. People assume that when you dress in all black and talk about death that you’re a bad person. And they would be right. About you, at least. Maybe that comes from having Evil Scientists as parents. Who knows. Whatever it is, you’ve always had a fascination with whatever comes after life. And you’ve always felt Death hovering at your side but maybe he’s not the enemy you thought he was…

Traits: Macabre, Evil, Chased By Death

Aspiration: Ghost Historian

Career: Reaper

Other Requirements:

Master Thanatology, Medium, and Writing Skills

Live in a Haunted House for Seven Days

Write Horror Novels in your free time

Have a baby with GrimDie Young and Become an Evil Ghost

Optional: finish the Tarot Card Collection

I hope you all enjoy playing this challenge! Feel free to tag me if you do and please have fun!

XOXO, Bananzer

[socialobligation]

love in the margins | t. iida

a short, slow-burn library romance, ft. one blueberry muffin, exactly zero jokes, and a boy who takes flashcards way too seriously. (4597 words)

you meet tenya iida under circumstances that can only be described as tragically collegiate: a peer-led study group in the furthest, quietest corner of the campus library, surrounded by half-dead fluorescent bulbs and the palpable despair of students on the brink of burnout.

it's the third week of the semester, and you're already floundering.

you hadn't intended to be. in theory, you were going to stay on top of things—read the chapters early, color-code your notes, maybe even start a study group of your own. but somewhere between sleep deprivation, an avalanche of discussion posts, and the mysterious black hole that is the university's online portal, you fell behind. hard.

introduction to public policy has been your academic nemesis from the start. the textbook reads like legal jargon swallowed a thesaurus. the professor talks in dense, circular metaphors. every quiz is a minefield of trick questions and ambiguous phrasing. you are, in every sense of the word, academically drowning.

so when a brightly colored flyer promising a "collaborative review session" caught your eye on the bulletin board outside the lecture hall, you didn't think twice. you showed up. desperate. caffeinated. terminally underprepared.

and now you regret everything.

the room smells like dry-erase markers and nervous sweat. a whiteboard at the front is covered in illegible graphs. someone has already spilled a latte on the floor. the guy leading the group talks fast and loud, his explanations full of buzzwords and gestures but lacking anything remotely useful. you suspect he's just regurgitating the study guide at a slightly faster pace.

the other students seem to agree.

one by one, they start to trickle out. a girl leaves with the excuse of "office hours." a guy mutters something about dinner. another just quietly packs up and disappears, not even bothering with a pretense.

by the end of the hour, only two people remain: you, clinging to a futile hope of salvaging your gpa... and him.

he sits across from you with the kind of posture that makes your back ache just looking at him. tall, composed, and absurdly polished—like someone who writes essays three days early and carries a spare pen in case someone forgets theirs. his navy-blue sweater is wrinkle-free. his glasses catch the dim library light. his notes are not just color-coded—they're thematically organized, annotated with footnotes and marginalia in tiny, immaculate handwriting.

he hasn't spoken once. he hasn't needed to.

he radiates competence like it's a moral obligation.

"you're still here?" you ask, more surprise than judgment.

the boy looks up, blinking as if surfacing from a well of deep concentration. he adjusts his glasses with a practiced motion.

"yes," he says, voice clipped and oddly formal. "you are as well."

you arch an eyebrow. "no offense, but... are you actually getting something out of this?"

his expression doesn't change, but he tilts his head slightly—almost like he's assessing you.

"of course," he replies. "engaging in structured group review enhances cognitive retention and contextual understanding. it's an effective method for consolidating knowledge prior to a high-stakes assessment."

you blink. "so... yes?"

he doesn't hesitate. "yes."

you snort—audibly. it escapes before you can stop it. and to your surprise, a faint smile flickers across his mouth.

"i'm tenya iida," he says, extending a hand across the table with the kind of precision reserved for formal introductions at university mixers.

you stare at his hand for a moment, then take it. his grip is warm. steady. confident in a way that makes you sit up a little straighter.

"y/n," you say.

his smile grows just slightly. "it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

he releases your hand and immediately pulls out a second set of flashcards from his folder. of course he has a second set.

"would you like to quiz each other?" he asks, dead serious. "alternating questions could be a mutually beneficial method of review."

you stare at him.

he stares back.

something about him—the earnestness, the posture, the complete and utter lack of sarcasm—disarms you. it's like he's the living embodiment of academic sincerity. you're not sure whether to laugh or agree.

you do both.

"...sure."

you don't know it yet, but that's the beginning.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't plan on seeing him again.

it's not personal. it's just that study groups are the social equivalent of jury duty—temporary, miserable, and best forgotten. you assume tenya iida is one of those hyper-dedicated overachievers who only exist within the academic ecosystem. he probably recedes into a cloud of flashcards and moral fiber as soon as the library closes.

you are, however, proven categorically wrong the following wednesday at exactly 8:03 a.m.

you enter the campus café half-awake, mildly hostile, and fully dependent on the idea of caffeine as a substitute for sleep. the plan is simple: grab something with enough espresso to make your eye twitch, stare blankly at your phone for fifteen minutes, and pretend the crushing weight of institutional learning isn't slowly hollowing you out from the inside.

but fate—or perhaps syllabus-based divine intervention—has other plans.

because when you step inside, there he is.

same posture. same glasses. same stupidly crisp button-down like it didn't just come out of someone's laundry but graduated magna cum laude from it. he's seated at a table by the window, surrounded by highlighters arranged like soldiers, reading the textbook that has been your personal tormentor since week one.

and next to his coffee?

a single blueberry muffin.

you hesitate, caught in that weird space where it's too late to pretend you didn't see him, but also too awkward to walk past without acknowledging him.

before you can make a decision, he looks up—and smiles.

not just a polite, "ah yes, i recognize you" smile.

a real smile. brief, but sincere. like he's actually glad you're here.

he waves you over.

you hate how quickly your legs respond.

"didn't expect to see you here," you say as you slide into the seat across from him, instantly aware of how tired you look in comparison to his perfectly combed hair and terrifying punctuality.

"i study here most mornings," he replies. "the ambient noise level is consistent, and the natural lighting is optimal for focus."

you blink. "that is... alarmingly specific."

he inclines his head. "i find that consistency breeds productivity."

you want to tease him, but the truth is, it's kind of admirable. alarming. but admirable.

he gestures to the pastry between you.

"would you like half?" he asks. "it's fresh. and i believe we have, at this point, established a cordial enough rapport to justify the sharing of breakfast items."

you stare at him.

"do you always offer muffins to people you've only studied with once?"

he doesn't even flinch. "only when they look tired enough to deserve one."

your mouth twitches.

"you've been saving that line, haven't you."

he looks mildly offended. "no. though i could annotate it in my planner if you'd like."

you laugh—genuinely this time—and accept the muffin. it's warm, sweet, and annoyingly perfect. just like him.

you don't pull out your flashcards. not immediately. you sit there in companionable silence, splitting the muffin and sipping your drinks like it's something you've always done. like this is normal.

you tell yourself this isn't a date. obviously.

it's too early in the day for romance. you're both clutching textbooks like weapons. he hasn't even made a single joke. (you're not sure he knows how.)

and yet—

when he leans in to show you a section he highlighted—carefully annotated with footnotes and marginal notes that are somehow neater than your typed essays—your shoulders brush. you don't pull away.

he doesn't, either.

later, you realize that you don't even remember what chapter you reviewed.

but you remember the sound of his voice as he quietly explained it. the way he passed you the last bite of muffin without saying anything. the way his fingers curled ever so slightly when he set his pen down between you.

you remember thinking, with a strange flutter in your chest: this could be something.

not yet.

but maybe.

⋆˚✿˖°

you tell yourself this is still just about school.

you repeat it like a mantra as you meet him at the library every tuesday and thursday without fail, settling into your now-permanent seats by the windows like assigned partners in some ongoing group project that no one else remembers being assigned to. his bag always lands on the table first, followed by a reusable water bottle the size of your emotional baggage. he brings extra highlighters now—plural—and starts leaving a green one near your elbow like he’s not even thinking about it.

you, in turn, stop pretending to study anywhere else.

because the truth is, you don’t concentrate better when he’s around—not even a little. he’s distracting in the worst possible way: tall and tidy and terminally composed, with a voice like a podcast host and a smile that you pretend not to notice every time he glances over at you with something like pride in his eyes.

and the worst part?

it’s working.

your grades are going up. you understand policy terminology now. you caught yourself referencing a case study unprompted in another class, and the look your professor gave you made it feel like you’d just been knighted.

you’d thank him for it—sincerely—if he didn’t look so smug every time you nailed a quiz.

“you’ve clearly been applying yourself,” he says one evening, looking over your annotated notes like they’re some kind of sacred text.

“i’ve been applying your study methods,” you reply, then instantly regret it, because the smile he gives you in return is devastating.

and that would be fine—annoying, but fine—if it weren’t for the fact that he’s started sitting closer.

not drastically. not inappropriately. just... close.

close enough that when you both lean in to look at something on the same page, your shoulders brush. your knees knock. his hand lingers near yours when he passes you a pen, and he doesn’t move away quickly. sometimes—and this is particularly evil—his thigh rests against yours under the table for minutes at a time, and you’re too proud (and too panicked) to say anything.

you’re not flirting. not really.

you’re both too stubborn for that.

but something is happening. you just don’t know what to call it.

one thursday afternoon, the sky is gray and heavy with the threat of rain. the windows in the library fog up slightly, making the whole room feel smaller, softer, somehow more intimate. your shoes are damp. your brain is fried. you’re barely holding onto your focus.

but he’s already there, sitting at your usual table with a mug from the downstairs café and a folder labeled “legislation review: week 5.” there’s a muffin. of course there’s a muffin.

he looks up as you approach. smiles. “you’re early.”

you blink. “so are you.”

he shrugs. “anticipation is efficient.”

“what does that even mean?”

he hesitates, like he’s genuinely considering it. “it means i enjoy this.”

your heart does something stupid.

you take your seat before your face can give you away.

thirty minutes in, your brain stops processing information entirely.

you’re trying to focus. really, you are. but his leg is pressed against yours and you swear it’s getting closer every time he shifts. it’s not even the contact itself that’s distracting—it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice. like it’s just normal. like this is how he always studies with people.

(does he?)

(no. he can’t.)

“y/n?” he says, and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

“hm?”

“i asked if you’d like to walk through the case brief again. you seem... distant.”

you clear your throat and try not to sound like someone whose brain has just been wiped by a thigh. “yeah, no, i’m fine. just tired.”

he nods solemnly. “understandable. your coursework has been particularly intensive.”

he says it like he knows your schedule better than you do—which he might. you’ve seen his planner. you’re pretty sure he’s memorized the entire academic calendar, national holidays included.

you try to return to your notes.

you fail.

eventually, you lean back in your chair and exhale.

“okay,” you say. “i need to ask you something.”

he looks up, immediately attentive. “yes?”

you glance around—no one’s within earshot— and lean in slightly.

“this thing we do.”

he blinks. “studying?”

“no. i mean yes, but no.” you gesture vaguely between the two of you. “this. the muffins. the flashcards. the... sitting so close i can smell your laundry detergent.”

he goes still.

“i’m just trying to understand if we’re, like...” you hesitate. “is this just a really intense academic friendship or are we... flirting?”

he doesn’t speak for a long moment.

then, carefully: “i hadn’t realized my proximity was making you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not!” you say, too quickly. “it’s just... confusing.”

“confusing how?”

you fidget with the cap of your pen. “because we do things that feel... date-adjacent. and i don’t know if that’s just how you are with people or if i’m—” you stop yourself before you can say not imagining it.

his brows draw together, faintly perplexed. “i apologize. i didn’t mean to cause confusion.”

you blink. “so you are flirting?”

his ears go pink. just slightly. “i wouldn’t define it as flirting. but i do enjoy spending time with you.”

you squint at him. “that’s not a no.”

he hesitates. then, quieter: “it’s not.”

oh.

you stare at him. he stares back.

and then—like the universe can’t stand unresolved tension—your knees bump again.

but this time, he doesn’t shift away.

and neither do you.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don’t call it a date.

not out loud.

not even in your head, really—not technically. because you’re not dating. you haven’t kissed. there’s been no confession. there’s been no moment of clarity where either of you has stood dramatically in the rain and said i think about you all the time, which, honestly, is a bit disappointing.

but you still change your outfit three times before meeting him for coffee on saturday.

you still hesitate in front of the mirror, adjusting your sleeves and second-guessing your hair, muttering get a grip under your breath like it’s a prayer.

you still pause at the door to the café, one hand on the handle, and remind yourself—again—that this isn’t a date.

you’re just meeting up. casually. like friends.

friends who sometimes sit with their knees touching under library tables. friends who share muffins and steal glances and somehow always find reasons to linger a little too long in doorways.

friends who, if they weren’t so emotionally constipated, might’ve figured this out already.

but you push the door open anyway, and the little bell overhead chimes bright and familiar.

he’s already there.

of course he is.

tenya iida is punctual to the point of pathology. if you told him to meet you in the afterlife at 3:00 p.m. sharp, he’d be there early, holding a clipboard and a fully prepared powerpoint.

he’s sitting near the window, back straight, hands folded politely in his lap. his hair is a little messy from the wind outside. his sweater is navy—clean, simple, a little oversized in a way that makes you stare longer than you should.

he sees you and stands immediately, which is both adorable and completely unnecessary.

“you’re early,” he says, voice warm.

“so are you.”

he doesn’t reply, but the smile he gives you is soft around the edges.

you order something with too much caffeine and not enough nutritional value. he offers to pay, like he always does. you decline, like you always do. it’s a silent tradition now, a ritual of stubbornness. he lets it go with a quiet nod, but not without giving you that look—the one that says i was raised right and this physically pains me.

you find a booth in the corner, a little more secluded than the rest. the sun spills in through the window in soft golden streaks, and for a moment, it feels like you’re somewhere outside of time.

“i’ve never seen you wear that color,” he says as you sit down.

you glance at your shirt. “yeah? too much?”

he shakes his head immediately. “no. it suits you.”

your mouth goes a little dry.

you recover quickly, leaning back and sipping your drink like it doesn’t mean anything. like the warmth crawling up your neck is from the coffee and not the compliment.

“so,” you say, clearing your throat. “what’s on the agenda for today? rigorous academic analysis? philosophical debates about economic ethics? impromptu pop quizzes?”

he tilts his head. “i thought we might take the day off.”

you blink. “from... studying?”

“from everything.” he shrugs, a little sheepishly. “i realized we’ve never spent time together without a textbook between us.”

your heart does something strange.

“you mean like... just hang out?”

“yes.”

“like friends.”

he hesitates. just barely. “yes. like friends.”

the words hang in the air between you—awkward, uncertain, but not unkind.

you nod, slowly. “okay. yeah. we can do that.”

and you do.

you talk. not about school, not about deadlines or group projects or the upcoming midterm. you talk about dumb childhood stories and weird food preferences and the fact that he once tried to start a recycling initiative in his middle school and was very upset when no one followed the sorting chart correctly.

you tell him about your obsession with terrible reality TV. he listens with the seriousness of a man taking notes for a thesis.

he tells you about his older brother, and how much he looks up to him. you tell him about the stray cat that used to follow you home in high school, even though you never fed it.

he laughs—really laughs—when you tell him about the time you broke your nose in gym class trying to dodge a volleyball and ran straight into a bleacher.

“i’m sorry,” he says between gasps. “i don’t mean to laugh at your pain.”

“no, you do,” you say, grinning. “and it’s okay. i would too.”

at one point, your knees bump under the table again. this time, neither of you pulls away.

it’s later than you mean it to be when you finally leave the café. the sun is dipping low, the sky tinged with lavender and orange. the street is quiet, and the wind bites just enough to make you zip your jacket up.

you walk together. not toward the library, not toward another class—just aimlessly. like people who have nowhere else to be.

it’s peaceful.

and weirdly... intimate.

you’re not talking. not really. the silence between you is comfortable now, lived-in. every so often your hands brush, and you wonder—wildly, stupidly —what would happen if you just reached out.

but you don’t.

because this isn’t a date.

it’s not.

except maybe... it is.

“this was nice,” you say, when you finally reach the crosswalk where you’ll part ways.

he nods. “i enjoyed it.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“we should do it again,” you say. casually. like it doesn’t mean anything.

but he looks at you like it does.

“i’d like that,” he says. and then—“you’re very easy to be around.”

your breath catches.

you want to say something. you’re easy to be around too. i think about you when we’re not together. i don’t know if i’m imagining this but i hope i’m not.

instead, you say, “you’re weirdly charming, you know that?”

he blinks. “i—thank you?”

you grin. “it’s a compliment. mostly.”

he laughs. soft. pleased. “i’ll take it.”

he takes a small step back, like he’s about to leave —but then pauses.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“if this had been a date...” he clears his throat. “would that have been... agreeable to you?”

you stare at him.

then, slowly—carefully—you nod.

“yeah,” you say. “i think it would’ve been.”

he smiles. it’s small. tentative. but it lights up his whole face.

“then maybe next time, we won’t pretend.”

you feel like you’re floating.

“deal.”

he nods once. then, with a strange, lingering sort of hesitation—like he’s not ready to go yet—he turns to leave.

you watch him go.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel... hopeful.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't know what you're expecting.

when he texts you the next morning—same time tuesday? not for studying this time. if you're free.—you stare at it for a good ten minutes before responding. not because you’re unsure of your answer (you’re not), but because the implication hits like a freight train.

not for studying.

not as friends.

just you. just him. again.

this time, it’s a little different.

this time, he’s calling it what it is.

you don’t overthink your reply (for once). you just type yeah. i’m free and throw your phone face-down before your heart can beat out of your chest.

and when tuesday rolls around, you are twenty minutes early.

you tell yourself it’s because the weather’s nice and the walk was shorter than usual and you didn’t want to cut it close. but the truth is, you’ve been ready since noon.

you’re wearing the sweater he said he liked once, months ago, after a study session where he handed you a highlighter and your fingers brushed and you both paused like the world might end. it’s not even your warmest or your nicest sweater. it’s just... the one he looked at a little too long.

you don’t want to admit what that means.

you sit in your usual seat by the window. a small table, worn edges. your coffee in hand. no textbooks. no flashcards. just the sound of the café around you and the low simmer of anticipation in your chest.

he walks in three minutes early, which is basically scandalous by iida standards.

you glance up, and the second your eyes meet, he smiles.

it’s not his usual polite, committee-appropriate smile.

it’s something else.

something softer.

he sits down across from you like he’s been doing it his whole life.

you stare at him for a second too long.

“you’re early,” he says, like it’s a fact worth noting. his voice is gentler than usual.

“so are you.”

“a rare occurrence.”

“should i be concerned?”

he laughs—quietly, warmly. “i thought you might say that.”

you both go quiet.

not awkward quiet. just... full.

full of everything you’re not saying.

you sip your drink and hope your heart doesn’t explode.

twenty minutes in, you realize you’ve forgotten what time it is.

again.

you’re talking about something stupid—a professor you both silently hate but never speak ill of in class—and he’s mimicking their voice in a whisper, hand shielding his mouth, and you’re laughing.

like genuinely, honestly laughing.

like you don’t have a hundred things weighing you down.

he always does that. makes everything feel easier. lighter.

it’s dangerous, how much you like it.

how much you like him.

you haven’t said it. not out loud. not even to yourself.

but the truth is: you’re in trouble.

deep trouble.

because tenya iida has the power to wreck you in a way no one else ever has.

not because he’s dramatic. not because he’s charming (though he is, in that annoying, understated, golden-retriever-with-a-perfect-credit-score kind of way).

but because he’s steady.

because he means things.

because when he looks at you, it’s like you’re someone worth understanding.

and you’ve never been loved gently before.

not like this.

you walk out together.

neither of you mentions how long you stayed. it’s dark out, but neither of you cares.

you walk close, side by side. your hands brush once, then again. his fingers twitch toward yours, and you pretend not to notice—not because you don’t want it, but because you’re not sure what happens if you reach back.

you talk about nothing. and everything.

he tells you about the time his older brother accidentally dyed his hair blue with a shampoo prank and how no one in their house was allowed to mention it for an entire year.

you tell him about the time you accidentally set off a fire alarm trying to microwave leftover curry in a dorm that very explicitly prohibited strong-smelling food.

“you’re a menace,” he says, laughing.

you bump your shoulder into his. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he glances at you. “i didn’t say that.”

you both stop at the crosswalk—the same one where you stood days ago.

the same one where he asked if this had been a date...

you’re not pretending anymore.

and yet.

you don’t know what to say.

you just look at him, the wind brushing through your sleeves, your fingers cold where they’re shoved into your pockets.

he looks at you.

longer than before.

long enough that your heart stumbles.

and then—quietly—he says, “can i ask you something?”

you nod. “of course.”

his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. careful.

“why me?”

you blink. “what?”

“why... this?” he gestures gently between you. “i know i’m not the most exciting person. i’m not particularly funny or... spontaneous.”

you frown. “iida.”

“i’m just trying to understand,” he says. “why you keep showing up.”

you want to say because i like the way you talk when you’re tired, or because your laugh makes me want to listen to every dumb story you’ve ever told.

you want to say because i’ve never felt so calm next to another person in my entire life.

instead, you say, “because when i’m with you, i don’t feel like i have to be anyone else.”

his expression shifts.

his jaw tightens. his eyes soften.

he takes a step closer.

“i don’t want to mess this up,” he says.

“you’re not.”

“i don’t want to misread it.”

you exhale, a laugh escaping despite yourself. “you’re not.”

his hand lifts, hesitates—then lands gently against your cheek.

you stop breathing.

“may i kiss you?” he asks.

you nod before your brain catches up.

“yeah,” you whisper. “you may.”

and he does.

it’s not rushed.

it’s not fiery or desperate.

it’s patient. reverent. like he’s memorizing the feeling. like he’s been waiting for the right moment and this, finally, is it.

his lips press softly against yours, and your hands lift automatically to his jacket, holding on, grounding yourself.

when you part, he leans his forehead against yours.

you’re both quiet for a moment.

then he says, “i’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

you smile. “i could tell.”

“was i too obvious?”

“painfully.”

he laughs, arms sliding around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“this is still new,” he says. “i know that.”

you nod.

“but i’m willing to take it slow.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be patient.”

“okay.”

he pauses. “and i’d like to take you to dinner. an actual dinner. with reservations and menus and probably overpriced appetizers.”

you grin. “are you asking me on a real date?”

he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“yes,” he says. “i’m asking.”

“then yes,” you reply. “i’m saying yes.”

you walk home hand-in-hand.

you don’t have to say anything.

it’s not pretending anymore.

and for once—finally—that feels like enough.

[azurem]

What is your thoughts on a headcanon that Ink’s extremely deep blush is brown? Whilst i am at it, what would Nightmare think upon seeing it? 👀

(because that is the colour you commonly get from mixing the colour of the rainbow that is his usual blush.)

It's a nice headcanon! Though I'm half sure it'd be against canon (au where everything's the same but ink blushes brown if super flustered??) since Ink's super deep blush instead implies his rainbow freckles appearing!! Silly thing i love him. Brown blush would look very cute on him though, he'd look so monochrome/aff

— also I believe Ink's rainbow theme is very. Prism based, from what I've seen? A ray of white light passing through a prism disperses into 7 rays of color and all that. If the experiment is done in like, the. Inverse? Way? The rainbow turns into white. So in theory I believe it'd make more sense if Ink's super blush was white instead. Though I assume Ink's magic doesn't overlap, there's a reason why his tongue and blush is sectioned. Maybe different creators' emotions cannot be mixed??? Evil stuff—

Nightmare would like it way too much I think; both because Ink just never gets flustered enough to really see him that affected (he really likes to see proof that his efforts are doing something) and because he'd feel smug at the knowledge that he finally has the upper hand for once. This being said, the first time he' see it he'd probably tease Ink about it so much Ink just gets away from him by AU jumping because they'd get salty. A proper response, of course (he needs to learn limits!)

Second time is better. But his smile is still very much smug so Ink still gets salty. By the third time Ink would stop running away and let his destiny finally happen (unskippable romance scene)

Tbh I just think Ink is very skittish once he gets embarrassed enough, specially since shame isn't a very common thing for him to feel. He'd have no resistance to the emotion at all, so he'd be so obviously embarrassed you couldn't miss it. I imagine you could force embarrassment from him by having him drink too much from the purple (my hc color for his fear/shame) but it'd be just so mixed with fear it wouldn't be enjoyable for anyone involved ngl.

I also imagine Ink with like, a light level of embarrassment? Would play along if they're making fun of him. He fakes getting more embarrassed if they're poking fun at him, but he gets more snappy if he actually does (if he has available red, of course)

Anyways. I think the first time™ went kinda like this?? Maybe??? I can't get Ink's voice right but assume it's the purple talking

"...Oh? I've never seen this color here before."

"Well— Well! Maybe you missed it? Don't be silly. You— stop laughing! Why are you laughing?"

"It's cute."

"You're so— Get back in character already! C'mon, we were just— that's it! I'm going to... to. To—"

"Is it a whine I'm hearing?"

"It's not! No!"

"Is it not? I'm sure I couldn't have mistaken such a charming sound."

"Kay! Kay. So this is how it is! You think this whole thing is funny! That's what it is!"

"Oh, no. Though I won't say I'm not enjoying myself."

"...! ...!!!!!!! ...!!!!!!!"

"Ah. It's darker now."

(Ink proceeds to go fetch Broomie while Nightmare follows him closely like a hyena following sick prey No I don't have More comparisons)

"...And what are you doing now?— oh."

[jks1uv]

𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 ; peter sutherland | one-shot |

summary: the hours after peter's night shift are definitely better than the hours during.

pairing: shygf!fem!reader x teasingbf!peter sutherland.

trope: established relationship.

genre: fluff + romance.

warnings‼️: suggestive (kissing, making out, touchy feely while kissing, etc.) but still sfw.

word count: 1,149.

random disclaimerrr: been on this train since 2023 😝 HE GOT EVEN FINER HELP 😭😛 he got me jumpin’ like boom shaka-laka boom shaka-laka ohhh 😛 happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

You’re in that baby pink silk set he likes. It’s nothing fancy; just a spaghetti strapped cami top with a lacy outline and a pair of matching shorts.

He likes it because of how you look in it.

The baby pink brings out your skin, makes it appear glowy. Your eyes pop out and contrast with the shiny material nicely.

All claims of pure flattery but it’s all for you.

Color theory is real and Peter is living proof of that.

You lean against the doorframe with your arms crossed, watching your boyfriend wearing that outfit you like.

A tight-fitted navy blue long-sleeved shirt paired with the softest grey sweatpants ever.

His hair is dried up from the shower he took earlier and you can still smell the hotel citrus mixed with hints of his Polo cologne.

You think about how good he looks; a clean shave giving him the softest, smoothest face. He's currently manspreading on a chair, looking over some documents placed in his lap.

His biceps entice you to look, to stare and admire.

His strength has always captivated you. The attraction is deeply rooted in the way he makes you feel safe.

The tattoos decorating his arms fuel your fascination.

His sleeves are pulled up a bit, revealing a taste of his forearms and its veins. Peter rakes a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck, deep in thought.

The muscly arms make another appearance and you can't take it anymore.

You walk over and hike yourself up on the table, right beside his pile of papers.

“I was wondering when you were gonna stop staring at me creepily and say what’s on your mind.” He comments without looking up from the file.

You look down and play with the hem of your top, growing shy at his observation. A small smile lines your lips and you don't dare meet his gaze when he sighs and sets the file down beside you.

He stares at you for a moment before continuing. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I'm good on pennies, actually. But, thank you.” You murmur.

Peter slides his chair in front of you and you don't miss the way his legs are still far apart, like he's expecting you to step down and sit down any moment now.

He’s leaned back all nice and comfortable, watching your every move.

He notices your eyebrows twitch up a bit when he fills your line of sight. He doesn’t miss the way you’re still fiddling with the hem of your top, trying to occupy your mind. Peter sees the way your wandering eyes light up when he’s giving you attention.

He decides not to tease you anymore and leans forward. His hands are on your knees, pushing them apart so he can stand in between them.

Your spine straightens itself and you slowly breathe in when he brings his face closer.

You’re acutely aware of his hands being on either side of you, caging you in.

You blink up at him and meet those chocolate eyes.

“Don’t go all shy on me now.” He’s soft with his teasing.

You smack your teeth and can’t help the grin that graces your lips. Your head tilts back a bit but he’s persistent; he tracks its movements.

Peter bumps his nose into yours, provoking you to meet him all the way.

You want to kiss him but you’re too shy to make the first move.

If only you were a telepath.

“You gonna kiss me or what?” He’s bold with his demands.

You pretend to mull over the thought, shrugging slightly and humming in uncertainty.

“Uh huh.” He says, obviously not buying it.

Testing the waters, Peter leans in just a bit to keep you guessing.

You have your gaze set on his plush lips and you think about how soft they look. Inviting, too.

You lean in thoughtlessly and he can’t find it in himself to deny you.

He finally kisses you and you sigh in relief.

You blindly wrap your legs around him and pull him in, your fingers run through his hair and he groans at the contact.

The vibrations make your lips tingle a bit and you meekly chuckle, breaking this kiss.

“I can’t stand you.” Peter breathlessly admits.

You both know he’s all bark and no bite but you’re curious.

“Why not?” You ask.

“You’re so…” He looks back and forth at your eyes and is captivated by your honey flavored lips.

“Distracting.” He settles on this but you are, and you know it.

“You’re wearing that set that you know I like,” He rubs the soft material against his thumb.

“And the chapstick.”

“What about it?”

It’s a Burts Bees moisturizing lip balm but with a new flavor: honey. You knew he’d like it but you didn’t expect this reaction from him.

“It’s nice.” He whispers before pressing a chaste kiss to your soft, sweet lips.

He grips your waist and lifts you up, you resume your previous position and wrap yourself around him; cocooning your body into his.

He steps backwards and plops down on the bed, worshipping you.

His touch is electric, fingers dip under your shirt and sprout goosebumps in their wake. His knuckles gently caress your hips before squeezing them with affection.

Your heart flutters at his actions and you’re putty in his hands. Your eyes close involuntarily and you sigh and gasp as the last bits of consciousness whither away at his touch.

His forehead presses against yours and you feel his silent notions of care and adoration for you. Peter kisses down your jaw and can’t control the sparks of devotion that lick into your skin.

You’re overwhelmed with emotion by his affection, by his kisses. By him.

It’s as if a heavy weight is set on your chest and can’t be lifted unless you speak.

You take charge of the moment by tilting your head back and angle his face away from your neck.

His pupils dilated to the max combined with his rosy cheeks makes for a pretty sight.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers.

Peter adjusts you in his lap and the way he handles you with such care and strength has you craving for more.

“Nothing, I just…”

You leave the ghost of a trail on the apples of his cheeks and his warm hand comes up to envelop it. He kisses the side of your palm and it makes you giddy inside.

“I just really like you. A lot.”

He blinks as a warm smile spreads over his face. He stares up at you for a second before gently pushing you down onto the bed.

Your excitement shows in your squeals and giggles as he leaves kisses all over your face and holds you close to him.

The hours after his night shift are the best hours of his life, he thinks.

[dear-satan]

Beginning Of the End

player 230/Thanos x Reader

★ word count: 7k

★ CW: pre-squid game events, fem!reader, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, funding issues, fraud

★ Summary: you meet Thanos at a club. your relationship quickly blossoms, but at some point he throws out the idea to invest money in cryptocurrencies. despite his opposition, he does so, with terrible consequences.

★ next part

You met at a club, an innocent, accidental meeting. His messy, purple hair blended perfectly with the neon lights and his impulsive nature matched the loud music.

He bought you a drink, one or two, and then he didn't leave you the whole evening. Then you exchanged Instagrams and his eyes didn't leave your figure until the taxi doors closed. The next day, right after waking up, your phone exploded from the messages he sent you.

You went on a few dates, god, he was so adorable. He gave you flowers or small gifts at every possible opportunity. His tattooed hand on yours when you told him anything. He loved listening to you. Your pictures were circulating on the internet and fans created conspiracy theories about an alleged romance between you. Thanos loved being the center of attention, so he added fuel to the fire. A picture from your date on his profile, a picture of you together on your story, nice music in the background. God, he loved it when they talked about him as much as he loved you.

The beginning of your relationship was perfect. He even suggested that you move in with him - you agreed immediately.

At first, everything was fine. Mornings together, inspiring each other in the afternoons, and passionate nights. You forgave him when he went out on the balcony to smoke weed or pulled those damn colorful pills out of his necklace. Everyone needs something to relieve their stress, right? Especially since he assured you that he had it all under control.

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

"No Su-bong." You said firmly, looking into his dark eyes.

"Why?" His gaze was dominant, the whole thing making you feel small. "It's a good investment, really. The guy's been promoting it for a long time and-"

"No and that's it." You turned around to finish washing the dishes. "Investing in crypto is stupid, especially since you know absolutely nothing about it." You felt him drill a hole in your back. "It's a scam, and you believe in it like a little kid. Besides, too much money goes to.. your stuff."

Despite his muttering under his breath, the conversation seemed over. He didn't bring it up for the next few weeks, and even Thanos himself seemed to think you were right and MG Coin was a crook.

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

You were coming back from work, going into a nearby store to do some simple shopping for home. You weren't choosing who knows what, just simple groceries to make a good dinner. You always managed your budget wisely and planned your expenses so that you had a safe amount of money before your next payday.

Transaction declined.

You tried again. It was probably a simple system error.

Transaction declined.

With a flushed face, you gave the cashier the cash and almost ran out of the store. On the way home, you checked your bank account and your heart seemed to stop when the app showed no funds at all. It was a simple mistake - you kept telling yourself the whole way back. You locked the door and immediately logged into the bank on your laptop.

No funds - that message made your stomach turn. But it was the transaction history that made you feel really sick.

Outgoing transfer, recipient Choi Su-bong.

You asked calmly as soon as he emerged from the hallway late afternoon. At first he acted oblivious, as if he didn't know that there was such a thing as transaction history.

Then he tried to explain that he needed the money, but when you pinned him down, he gave the real reason.

Investment in crypto.

The argument lasted for several days and it was followed by weeks of silence. The investment wasn't paying off and there was no sign of it. The fridge started to run out of food, home-cooked meals were replaced by cheap, chemical-laden instant soups. Bills started to come in that you had no way of paying. Su-bong didn't seem to notice the problem - or didn't want to notice it. He came home later and later, usually drunk, high or both. You could hear him talking behind the closed bathroom door, asking for another loan so that they wouldn't cut off your electricity and hot water. But that wasn't what brought you to the brink of a breakdown.

Strange people started visiting you. People you didn't want to have anything to do with. Thanos always asked you to stay in the room or living room. Not to open the door for them. All you heard was them threatening him that if he didn't give him the money they would come for him, they would come for you.

One day they visited you at work, at first you didn't recognize them. Then you pretended you didn't know what they were talking about. Unfortunately, photos of you and the famous rapper were easy to find on the internet so lying didn't help much. You were terrified when one time they were waiting for you after the end of your shift. You gave them everything you had - the last few bills and the watch that Su-bong had given you at the beginning of your relationship. But it wasn't enough.

They came more often, threatening you and then your boss. He was an older man and out of concern for his safety and his business, he simply fired you, not listening to any explanations.

That was the final nail in the coffin.

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

It was three in the morning and you couldn't sleep. Wet marks decorated your cheeks and you were sitting curled up on the couch covered with a blanket. It was getting worse. The debt was growing with each passing week and you had no way to pay it off. Out of paranoia about your safety, you stopped leaving the house. Thanos disappeared for longer and longer, you practically woke up in an empty bed and returned to an empty bed, only to find him on the couch with a huge hangover in the morning.

You heard the sound of the lock and then footsteps. Unsteady, unstable. Then you saw his figure, drunk as usual. But that wasn't what scared you. There were bruises on his face, red and purple.

"What happened?" you asked with a trembling voice, taking careful steps. Shaking hands gently touched his cheek and your heart clenched when he let out a quiet hiss. "Su-bong who did this to you?" he didn't answer and tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. "Please answer me.. I need to report this and-"

"No" he shook his head letting out a loud sigh. He reached into his jacket to pull out a wad of money and handed it to you. "It's not much, but it'll last for a while.." his forehead pressed against yours. "I'll bring more in a while." his trembling hands embraced your small body. He hadn't done this in so long. "I promise."

"Su-bong.. I don't want any dirty money. We have too many debts and-"

"I earned it." he interrupted you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Honestly, I found an extra.. Easy gig." you felt him trembling under your fingers. You closed your eyes inhaling his scent - cigarettes mixed with sharp perfume and the disgusting smell of alcohol.

"I'm scared.." you whispered, feeling more tears flowing down the same, already dried tracks. "I'm so scared.. About you, about us." you sobbed into his hen, clutching the money in your hand.

"I love you.." you hadn't said it in so long. Despite everything that had happened to you - whether it was his fault or not, you still loved him. Above all.

"I love you too." he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "Soon everything will be fine, it will be like before.. You'll see." He reached with one hand back into the pocket of his jacket, turning the business card he had received an hour earlier between his fingers.

A business card that was supposed to change literally everything.

[hello-my-name-is-aves]

Sanemi Loves Giyuu Because He Reminds Him of Kanae

*Siiiiiiighhhh*

I have seen this theory posited one too many times, and I finally have to gently and lovingly tell anyone who will listen that it is just nonsensical bullshit.

To anyone who has ever thought/felt/argued this point: WDYM!? They both have....black hair? Because, truly, that is where any comparison between them ends. (And, in case we forgot, KNY takes places in Japan. Do you know how many people in Japan have black hair? The Hashira and Kamabokos are like a bunch of freakish outliers in terms of hair color.) So if we dismiss hair color, what else is there? They are different genders, different body types, different eyes, different skin tones - Surely we can all agree that Sanemi is NOT attracted to them both on the basis of a physical resemblance.

So what about personalities?

Kanae was gentle and soft and warm. She was kind-hearted and easy-going. She almost always had a smile on her face. She was friendly with everyone. She (with, perhaps, delusional optimism) had a dream of one-day living peacefully alongside demons.

...Does any of that sound like Giyuu Tomioka?

Giyuu who never smiles? Giyuu who, when he deigns to speak at all, speaks with callous dismissal and a sprinkle of sass? Giyuu who has exactly ZERO friends, is difficult to work with, and is beset by crippling self-doubt?

Kanae and Giyuu could not be more different. There is absolutely no way, none whatsoever, that Sanemi Shinazugawa looks at Giyuu and sees Kanae. If he does, it is only, perhaps, in a moment of nostalgia because the emotion he feels for both of them is love.

All of that assumes that Sanemi did, in fact, love Kanae AND Giyuu.

But, alas, I just find that impossible to buy into. Sanemi Did Not Love Kanae Romantically. Now, I want to preface this next bit with telling you that I have nothing against SaneKana as a fan ship. It has aesthetic appeal, and in full disclosure, I was a SaneKana shipper before I saw the light discovered SaneGiyuu. I do, however, take issue with anyone who claims on any level whatsoever that SaneKana was canon.

The piece of evidence people always point to when they claim that Sanemi loved Kanae is Gyomei the Tea Hashira's assessment of his fellow Hashira in the fanbook where he says of Sanemi: He seems to like Kanae.

And then the claim is supported on Sanemi's page when he says that he talks to Shinobu every now and then because she was Kanae's sister.

I cannot stress enough how mediocre that is as evidence. "Like" is such an ambiguous word. I LIKE a lot of people that I don't want to date/marry/shag. Sanemi also "Likes" Kyojuro. In another translation of the same page, it says on Obanai's section that he "Likes" Obanai best of all. No one is trying to claim that SaneRen and SaneOba are canon ships. If the statements were backed up by canon evidence for SaneKana then I could see it, but someone tell me, where is the evidence?

In the Manga, they have ONE interaction, and that is Kanae gently berating Sanemi for his outburst at his first Hashira Meeting.

In the Light Novels, they also have ONE interaction, and do you know how it goes...? Sanemi thinks about his mom. Guys. Guys. Sanemi did not have a crush on Kanae. He just was reminded of his mom by her gentle nature and her warm hands. When she is bandaging him up, there is no romantic tension, no eyes meeting or fleeting touches or little moments that indicate attraction. Sanemi gets totally distracted and lost in his own thoughts of his mother (until Kanae mentions the person there is an actual argument to be made for him having a crush on, Masachika.)

The Light Novel also makes it pretty clear imo that Sanemi has no interest in women at all. Now you could argue he just isn't interested in romance, full stop, but frankly, I think it is more likely that Sanemi just has crushes on boys, not girls.

Now that that's all said and done... You know else gets the "A likes B because they remind them of C" treatment? Giyuu, Sabito and Sanemi! I'll be giving Giyuu and Sabito a whole post of their own soon, so keep an eye out for it if you like <3 :)

So there you have it. Thanks for reading and have a blessed day!

(disclaimer in case it wasn't clear enough: I am not claiming that Sanemi canonically loves Giyuu or Masachika either. I'm just addressing the dynamic crossroads these fan ships too often find themselves in.)

[ondeemand]

Transformers One Review

For the sake of convenience, I’ll be referring to the characters as their new names (Optimus Prime, Megatron, Bumblebee) instead of their old ones (Orion Pax, D-16, B-127).

Also, I didn’t grow up with Transformers, so this will be mostly from an outsider’s perspective. I can’t tell what possibly was or wasn’t a retcon or how accurate to the source material it was, but I think the background info on their world held up very well and they were able to explain it clearly to new viewers like me. It definitely would have hit harder if I grew up with Transformers and knew more than just facts from cultural osmosis, but I still enjoyed the movie a lot.

Notes/Things I’m Neutral On

Very weird to hear my name (Dee) being said throughout most of the movie by Chris Hemsworth’s bad American accent.

Also, I forgot that Megatron has transformed into ground vehicles before. I only ever knew him to turn into a jet, so I was kind of confused that he was a tank in this movie. I hope we get to see him get upgraded to a jet in the next one, but the tank is still cool.

Pros/Things I Liked

Simple but effective color theory with their eye colors. Main good guys have blue while Megatron has yellow, sitting between good and bad. Still a friendly color at first, but slowly turns closer to orange and then fully red as his anger and hatred consume him (and after he met the red-eyed Starscream, a cowardly man who ends up enabling Megatron‘s more violent/aggressive tendencies)

○ Also I don’t know if I was just seeing things, but it looked like Megatron’s eyes got more yellow whenever he looked at Optimus which is so sad and so gay.

I really thought they were gonna push a romance between Elita and either Bumblebee (goofy manchild x competent woman trope) or Optimus (male lead x female lead, blue x pink), but I was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t. Sadly, there’s still time for it in future installments, but I can dream.

Not to be gay, but spider woman sexy. Airachnid was so obviously evil that it was funny, but I can’t fault Sentinel for having her around because I, too, would want a deadly goth woman to be my right-hand lady. They felt like the evil, less developed versions of Mustang and Hawkeye. I am in love.

The animation is gorgeousssss. The environments, the character designs, the fight choreography, the transformations, the lighting, the texture, mwah mwah MWAH STUNNING!!!

○ Sorry, I’m never gonna stop talking about this. The way they were able to make square/blocky figures move so fluidly was fantastic (and proof of concept that a fully animated Minecraft movie would have worked). ○ The camera angles were also great for framing both the dramatic, intense, and/or high-action moments like fights or chase scenes, while also adding a lot to the comedic moments. Like when the camera stays tracking Optimus’ face when running through the forest, only for him to suddenly fall down a cliff neither he nor us saw coming, only to then zoom out to the perspective of the guards below, showing them stumbling and falling. ○ The contrast between the mechanical and organic elements on the surface were really cool, and the way it was introduced was able to convey this idea that organic life was this strange, alien thing. ○ The way the surface just rebuilds itself into these jagged, blocky terrains was really unique and interesting! It felt like a glitched computer model because of its rougher shapes which really added to the fear and hostility of the surface.

90% of their jokes landed and they landed hard. The bit where Optimus looks like he’s about to transform and then just fucking books it is incredible. The audio and camera work help add to these as well, like the music building as Optimus pretends to transform, the camera zooming in close to different parts of him, only for all background noise to cut out as it shows Optimus running away. I won’t name every joke and quip I found funny or we’d be here all day, but they’re certainly a highlight of the movie.

I love Keegan-Michael Key, but I wasn’t a fan of him as the comic relief character of Toad in the Mario movie. When Bumblebee showed up I got a little nervous, but I really loved his performance of the character.

I really liked the midpoint pep talk about hope. That’s a really nice reason that Optimus is the leader despite not being as skilled as other people. He has the hope for a better future and it was a core part of his character from the beginning, and I really like the idea that a leader is someone who can envision a brighter future no matter what.

Alpha Trion transforming was SICK AS FUCK!!! I love that he was more animalistic when the rest of the cast become vehicles. His final fight was so cool, and it actually made me kind of emotional to see him at the end with the rest of the Prime ghosts.

The stabbings? The beheadings?? The branding??? The way Megatron tore Sentinel in half and then ripped his heart out on-screen holy shit???? This movie was incredibly brutal and I loved it. It’s such an interesting phenomenon that children’s media is allowed to be about as graphic as they want as long as it’s against robots, even incredibly sentient ones like in the Transformers series.

○ I watched the 1986 Transformers movie for a class earlier this year, and while it also had a lot of brutality in it’s fights, the new movie felt more intense. Part of this could be attributed to me watching the 2024 movie on a big screen vs the 1986 movie in my living room, but there are other reasons as well. The 1986 movie had more upbeat songs playing over the fights, specifically songs like The Touch and Dare, which helped keep the tone lighter and more exciting. The 2024 movie didn’t have anything like that, allowing the action, while still cool and exciting, to take on a more serious tone. This is also emphasized by the graphics of the movie being 3D instead of 2D. While the 2D 1986 movie is a stunning masterpiece, people still view it with the idea in mind that, since it’s a cartoon, the stakes and story will be less intense. The 2024 movie being 3D with very detailed graphics and lighting already has more visual intensity. The characters are still these bright, poppy colors, but they can come across more moody and dark due to the environments, lighting, and textures that the 3D medium more easily allows. And while the painted backgrounds and cell shading of the old movie are great, the CGI backgrounds are a lot closer to realism, so the harsher elements like metal and rock, which make up a vast majority of the environment and characters, look real too.

The way Megatron’s hate consumed him to the point where he started acting more villainous and, while not entirely similar to Sentinel, still ended up hurting innocent people was tragic. Trying to push away and deny everything about a person only to wind up being just like them. This was perfectly shown in the end credit scene where Megatron is branding himself and the new Decepticons with Megatronus Prime’s face. To him, it may be him reclaiming the traumatic experience and literally using it like a badge of honor, as well as thinking he’s honoring Megatronus Prime. But in reality, he’s just inflicting the same trauma done to him onto others, just like Sentinel. Such a cool way to show how every villain is the hero of their own story.

The doomed yaoiiiiii I’m never gonna get over them. The only other Transformers media I’ve consumed is the 1986 movie, which kills off Optimus Prime in the first 25 minutes and Megatron becomes Galvatron, so I never knew the depths of their homoerotic relationship.

I’m a sucker for “the hero and villain used the be friends (and maybe even lovers?)” trope, so Optimus and Megatron’s relationship and the general premise of the movie was already a slam dunk for me.

I’m also a fan of legacy stories like Avatar and She-Ra. While this movie didn’t get as in-depth with the concept, I enjoyed that they played with the idea of legacy and taking up the mantle of the former Primes.

I absolutely loved the end message that Optimus gives us. Hope, freedom, and autonomy are incredibly important things to learn, and as a trans person who very much wants to keep control over what I do with my body, I really resonated with that last one. I think it’s really cool that they included a message like that in this children’s movie about robots that turn into cars.

Regarding the message of autonomy, I love that it gives the term Autobots a new meaning. Auto meaning “automobile”, since they transform into cars, and Auto meaning “self”, as they are now fully their own bots with control over themselves.

Cons/Things I Disliked

Mid vocal performances from everyone except Brian Tyree Henry and Keegan-Michael Key. And as I mentioned before, it was hard not to focus on Chris’ attempts at an American accent, not to mention how recognizable his, as well as Scarlett Johansson’s, voices are.

The plot felt a little disjointed in the first 1/3-ish.

○ Good setup with the main characters being an oppressed working class with one dreaming of better things and the other hesitant to fall out of line or take risks. But then suddenly there’s a race, and then they’re in it, and then they lose, and then their leader wants to promote them. At first it feels like there are hints that he’s a scummy celebrity-type and that meeting their hero is what will spur on the disillusionment with their society. But then some random douchebag that doesn’t like them reassigns them which goes against their leader’s command, and that’s how the plot kicks off? ○ Also, Elita’s involvement felt kind of rushed/hand-waved. They all get stuck on the surface, but instead of trying to make her way back to report them like she was saying she would for the past few minutes, she makes a complete 180 and heads the expedition herself. ○ It all just felt a little strange, but once it got going the rest of the plot felt fine.

Megatron’s descent into “evil” felt kind of rushed. I understand that he feels betrayed and I really love where the character ends up by the end, but it felt like a real 180 without a lot of build up.

Some jokes fell flat or felt annoying and kinda cringe. That’s the territory of children’s movies though, so par for the course.

TLDR

Overall, this movie was a really fun watch and I’d love to go see it again. While some parts fall a little flat, the movie is lifted from mediocrity by its many Pros. From the stunning visuals, to the quick humor, to the tragic origins of two friends driven apart by their ideals, I’d recommend this movie to anyone interested in animation or the Transformers brand.

8.82/10

[thoughtfulfiction]

Balancing Acts

Author’s Note: Anon requested this over a year ago but better late than never?

A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Some might think it too 'in your face' or 'overplayed’. They might think it too safe for a show meant to inspire awe. But to you, it seemed...right. A garden brimming with flowers and mystical creatures, tangled in romance and mischief. There's passion in it. It’s bold and colorful and…unpredictable. It's the kind of story that makes your heart beat faster, where danger dances with desire, and the outcome is never quite certain.

That’s what you wanted to capture.

Your job was simple in theory, but far from easy in practice. Research the concept, shape it into an immersive visual experience, and curate pieces that would breathe life into your chosen theme. Find artists who understood the delicate balance of whimsy and chaos, match their works with complementary pieces, and then somehow make it all flow together in a space big enough to handle the magic. Coordinate transportation. Manage fragile egos. Decide what would be shipped to the gallery in Los Angeles to stay and commemorate the moment and what would be auctioned off at a later date.

This project was your baby, your first real chance to prove yourself, not just as an art curator but as a leader. Your team here in Oregon was counting on you. There was no way you weren't about to pour every ounce of yourself into this opportunity.

Justin understood that. He always had.

He admired the fire in you, the way you threw yourself into your work with the same relentless focus he brought to football. That was what drew him in the most, the hunger you both carried. The belief that success didn’t just happen; it had to be earned. He loved that you didn’t need him to rearrange his life for you, that you both had your own ambitions but still chose to carve out time for each other because you wanted to.

It worked...until it didn’t.

During the season, your busy schedules had made your moments together feel sacred. When time was scarce, it felt precious. But now? Now that the season was over and Justin had more free time than he knew what to do with, that perfect balance you’d once found seemed to be slipping. While he was filling his days with extra workouts and deep dives into film, you were drowning in meetings, mood boards, and late-night calls with artists across the country.

You both knew what dedication looked like—but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

The arguments started small.

The bathroom light was still on when Justin walked past, and he stopped in the doorway. Your makeup bag was sprawled across the counter. Various brushes, palettes, and bottles of miscellaneous products sprawled out like you’d abandoned them mid-routine.

"Seriously?" Justin muttered to himself.

He turned off the light and walked downstairs, trying to shake the irritation. But then he saw your carry-on bag, the same one you’d left by the door three days ago, still sitting there like an afterthought.

He rubbed his hand down his face and exhaled sharply.

"Hey," he called out, louder than necessary.

You were at the dining table, laptop open again. Of course.

"What’s up?" you asked distractedly, barely looking up from your screen.

"Your bag’s still by the door," Justin said, forcing his voice to stay calm. "Can you just... take it upstairs or something?"

"I will," you mumbled, typing away.

He waited, but you didn’t move.

"And maybe put your makeup away too?" His voice had a sharper edge this time. "The counter’s a mess."

That made you pause. You blinked up at him, eyebrows pinching together.

"I said I’d get to it."

"Yeah, but you’ve been saying that since Monday," Justin shot back. "It’s not that hard to just put your stuff away when you’re done."

Your mouth opened like you were about to argue, but instead, you closed your laptop with more force than necessary.

"I’m sorry I didn’t have time to deep clean the house between meetings and emails and, oh yeah, trying to keep my career from falling apart," you snapped.

Justin’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I’m saying."

"Isn’t it?" You stood up, crossing your arms. "Because it feels like you’ve got some things to say about everything I do...or don’t do."

"Maybe because it feels like I’m living with a toddler right now," Justin shot back, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "It wouldn’t kill you to put your stuff away instead of waiting for me to nag. Just—” he paused, trying to collect himself. “Did you realize this is our first conversation we’ve had all week that didn’t include you cutting it short because you’re too busy? Almost forgot what your voice even sounds like.”

Your face softened for a second, like you might let the frustration slip away... but then your shoulders squared again.

"I’m trying my best, Justin."

"Yeah?" His tone a bit dismissive. "Because right now, it kinda feels like I’m the only one who still cares."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, not angry, just…hollow.

"Right, ok I’ll just move the bag," you said quietly before walking upstairs, your footsteps fading one by one.

Justin stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where your bag had been, frustration still simmering in his chest—but beneath it, the loneliness started to creep in.

You solved the problem a hour later, uttering out a hushed apology hugging him from behind, feeling the tension rapidly ease from him.

For a few days things felt normal again, you were still busy but more present.

Dinners were less rushed, and Justin caught glimpses of the girl he’d fallen for, the one who asked about his workouts and teased him about his endless devotion to studying film. He didn’t mind when you worked late a few nights that week because when you were home, you were with him, stealing fries off his plate, or pausing in the hallway just to kiss him before heading upstairs.

Tiny but meaningful reminders that you were still with him even though you were drowning in work.

But then, the late nights crept back in. The unanswered texts. The quiet moments that used to feel warm now felt empty...again.

The living room was quiet except for the low hum of the TV. Justin shifted on the couch, glancing over at you. You were curled up on the far end, legs tucked beneath you, laptop balanced on your knees. The soft glow from the screen reflected off your face, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard.

He waited a moment, watching you, hoping you’d close it soon.

You didn’t, so he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"What are you working on?" he asked, voice low.

"Just some research." You didn’t look up.

Justin let his eyes linger on you, waiting for you to close the laptop or at least turn his way. Normally, by this time of night, you’d be tucked into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. He’d have an arm draped around you, explaining some new defensive scheme he was learning, not that you really cared about football strategy, but you always listened, always asked questions. Then, when it was your turn, you’d ramble on about artists he’d never heard of, painting vivid pictures with your words until the names started to blur together. He never minded. You could’ve been reading a thesaurus and he’d still hang onto every word.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

Justin’s fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh. He turned back to the TV, barely processing the basketball game playing on the screen. After a few minutes, he tried again.

"Hey...you wanna turn that off soon? Maybe put on a movie or something?"

"I can’t right now," you murmured. "I’ve still got a few more things to look through."

He swallowed the sigh threatening to rise. A few more things. That’s what you’d said last night—and the night before that.

"Yeah... okay." His voice came out flat.

You didn’t notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything.

Justin shifted again, settling deeper into the cushions, but it didn’t help. The couch felt too big tonight. He swallowed down the ache that had been building for a few days and tried again the next night.

"I was thinking about redoing the patio," Justin said, his voice casual but hopeful.

You were lounging on the corner of the couch, scrolling through your phone, half-listening.

"Hmm?" you murmured, barely glancing up.

Justin shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly. "Yeah, like maybe adding one of those fire pits? And some string lights across the posts, make it feel more...I don't know...cozy or something."

"Mmm...yeah, that sounds nice." Your thumb kept swiping.

Justin pressed his lips together, trying not to get annoyed.

"I found this video where they built this whole setup with built-in seating, and I figured I could probably knock it out in a couple of weeks," he went on, searching for some kind of reaction. "Might even try staining the deck, too. I was thinking—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

You were still scrolling, eyes flicking across the screen. You nodded like you’d heard him, but your focus was somewhere else entirely.

Justin waited a beat longer, hoping you’d look up, knowing you wouldn't.

"Never mind," he muttered.

"Hmm? What?" Your head lifted slightly, like you were only just registering that he’d stopped talking.

"Nothing," Justin said, forcing a tight smile. "It���s not important."

"Okay." You went right back to your phone.

Justin sat back against the couch, staring at the TV—but his mind wasn’t on the screen.

A few months ago, you would’ve put your phone down. You would’ve asked a dozen questions, what color stain he was thinking of, what kind of fire pit he wanted, maybe even teased him about turning into a handyman.

Now? It felt like you were a million miles away.

He had to say something. He had to do something before all that was left of the relationship was a few distant memories and penciling each other into calendars like you were distant strangers.

Justin wanted to be surprised when he pulled into the garage and the lights were off because you weren’t home yet. He wanted his feelings to be hurt less than they were, to be less emotionally invested in you—but here he was, ready to try again, continuously feeling like you were emotionally checked out until your project was over.

He sighed, tossing his keys onto the counter and toeing off his sneakers. The house felt cold, too quiet—like no one had really lived in it for weeks.

"This isn’t how it’s supposed to be," he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

Then—

"SURPRISE!"

Justin flinched as the lights burst to life, a chorus of voices filling the room. His eyes widened as familiar faces emerged from the crowd—Charlie, Tate and Jackson—even some friends from Sheldon who rarely made it out this way.

Confetti fluttered through the air, laughter spilling from the corners of the room. His heart was still hammering in his chest when you stepped forward, grinning wide.

"You knew I’d hate this," Justin said, his voice caught between shock and amusement.

"I know," you laughed. "But you deserve it. You’re lucky I didn’t make you wear a birthday pin."

Justin exhaled, finally taking it all in — the decorations strung carefully along the walls, photos of the two of you pinned to a board near the kitchen, and the unmistakable scent of his mom’s chocolate chip cookies lingering in the air.

"I…" he started, shaking his head as he looked around. He’d already greeted half the room, yet somehow still felt overwhelmed. "I don't even know what to say. Where did everyone even park? I didn’t see any cars outside."

You smiled proudly. "Made everyone park out back. Couldn't risk my surprise being ruined."

You took a step closer, sliding your arms around his waist. Justin hesitated for a second — not out of anger, but out of disbelief that you’d pulled this off when you were the busiest you’ve ever been.

"Happy birthday, baby," you whispered against his chest.

For a moment, Justin didn’t say anything—just held you tighter, pressing his face into your hair. The tension that had been building for weeks seemed to melt away, leaving something familiar in its place. This was exactly what he needed and he could cry at knowing that you knew that and did everything you could to give it to him.

"You’re impossible," he murmured, but there was no bite to it, just relief.

"You love it."

"I love you," he corrected, grabbing your hand and leading you to his friends so you can explain in vivid detail how you managed all of this without him catching on.

The morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow across the kitchen. Justin stood at the counter, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a streak of flour dusting his forearm. You were perched on the opposite side, aggressively scraping the last bit of cream cheese frosting from the mixing bowl with a spatula.

"Hey," Justin protested, reaching for the bowl. "We still need some of that for the cake."

You dodged his grab, licking a dollop of frosting from your finger. "Relax, baker boy, there’s still plenty."

"Yeah, plenty in your mouth," he shot back, grabbing your wrist with one hand and swiping frosting onto your cheek with the other.

You let out an indignant gasp before lunging for him, but Justin laughed and held you off with one arm, the other steadying the mixing bowl.

"Okay, okay!" you surrendered, giggling breathlessly. "Truce!"

He grinned, leaning in to kiss the frosting off your cheek.

By the time the cake was in the oven, slightly lopsided but full of love, you were both sprawled out on the couch in your pajamas, wrapped in blankets, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn between you. Inception was playing, but neither of you were fully committed to following the plot. Justin could probably quote the entire movie from memory.

"So," he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch, "the baby ducks should be here in a few days."

You turned your head to look at him, smiling softly. "You ready for them?"

He nodded proudly. "Everything’s set — heat lamp’s on, bedding’s down. I even read that if you talk to them a lot when they’re little, they’ll follow you everywhere."

"Great," you teased. "We’ll have a trail of fluffballs running after you like you’re some kind of duck whisperer."

Justin’s face lit up. "Yeah, well, I’m gonna be their favorite. You’re just gonna be ‘that lady.’"

"Please," you shot back, grinning. "I give it two days before they’re imprinted on me instead."

He hummed thoughtfully, then added, "I read they like warm baths, too. Oh, and they have this little happy noise they make when they’re comfortable, kind of like a soft whistle—"

You blinked at him. "Okay, Phil Dunphy."

Justin’s head shot up in mock offense. "Don’t talk about our children like that."

You burst out laughing, wrapping your arm around his and tilting your head up to kiss him. It was almost scary how seamlessly you two fell back into your normal, cozy routine.

As the credits rolled, Justin shifted to face you. "Hey...what if we do something special the night before your art show?"

You glanced up at him curiously.

"I'll hire a private chef," he said, his voice warm and hopeful. "Just the two of us—fancy dinner, good wine, the whole thing. Relax a bit the night before it gets crazy."

Your heart swelled. "You don’t have to do that.”

"I want to," Justin said firmly. "You've been working your tail off, we should celebrate your big break. Just the two of us."

You nodded, smiling as you reached for his hand. "I can’t wait."

"Me neither," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sighed happily, your fingers lacing through his. "I don’t deserve you."

Justin shook his head. "You’re stuck with me anyway."

The week flew by in a blur — a whirlwind of emails, late-night revisions, and endless checklists. The power suit collection in your closet was really running low.

You barely remembered what day it was anymore. The guest list was finalized after hours of combing through names and double-checking RSVPs. Each piece had been meticulously positioned in the gallery, sculptures casting dramatic shadows across the walls while delicate paintings softened the space. The fountain, the centerpiece of your entire vision, now flowed beautifully, light dancing off the rippling water and making the entire room feel like Shakespeare's words come to life.

It was perfect.

"We did it," you breathed, standing beside your team in the gallery’s dim light.

"We deserve a drink or something," a coworker suggested, and you didn’t hesitate.

One drink turned into two. Two turned into lingering conversation about favorite exhibits and upcoming projects, the kind of easy bonding you’d been too busy to enjoy lately. It felt good. Like you could finally breathe.

But when you pulled your phone from your purse, your stomach dropped.

9:42 p.m.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, scrambling to gather your things. Justin’s dinner.

You’d forgotten.

The pit in your stomach only grew heavier as you speed-dialed him, the phone ringing and ringing before finally going to voicemail.

"Hey. I’m so sorry. I lost track of time, but I’m on my way now. Please just—please wait for me."

Quickly ended the call, you shoved your phone back in your bag as you hurried out the door. The cold air hit you in the face like a slap—sharp and biting—and you couldn’t help but feel like you deserved it.

You stumbled through the front door, breathless and still slightly chilled from the night air. The house was quiet — eerily so. No sounds from the kitchen, no clatter of dishes or low conversation from the chef Justin had hired. Your eyes landed on the dining room, and your stomach twisted painfully.

The table was still set. Candles flickered softly, their wax dripping down in delicate rivulets. Plates were arranged neatly with silverware untouched. A bottle of wine—unopened—sat between two glasses. Justin was there, too, slouched back in his chair with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

He didn’t look at you when you walked in.

"Justin..." Your voice wavered as you stepped closer. "I’m so sorry. I—I lost track of time, and—"

"Yeah," he cut in flatly. His eyes flicked up to you then, sharp, tired, and unmistakably hurt. "I figured."

You swallowed hard, guilt swelling inside you. "I should’ve texted you. I should’ve checked my phone or set an alarm or something. I just...I got caught up, and I didn’t mean to—"

"You didn’t mean to," Justin repeated, shaking his head bitterly. "Yeah, I know. But you always ‘didn’t mean to.’"

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he wasn’t wrong.

"I waited," Justin said, his voice quieter now, but somehow heavier. "I sat here for almost an hour hoping you’d walk in any second. The chef packed everything up and left, and I...I didn’t even know what to tell him." He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t keep feeling like this — like I’m some afterthought you’ll get around to whenever you remember."

"That’s not fair," you said quickly, stepping closer. "You know how important this show is to me, I’ve been working for this for so long—“

"I know," he snapped, his voice sharper than before. "I know you’re busy. I know this project means everything to you. But dammit, I’m trying. I’m trying to be patient, to be understanding, but it feels like I’m just...just waiting around for you to have time for me."

"That’s not true. I promise it’s not.”

"Isn’t it?" His voice cracked just slightly, frustration transforming into hurt and disappointment. "You’re never home. You miss things you used to care about. I mean...hell, you couldn’t even set an alarm or check your phone tonight so I wouldn’t sit here like an idiot waiting for you to show up."

You blinked hard, heat rising behind your eyes. "I am so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"But you did." Justin shook his head, pushing back from the table with a scrape of the chair legs. "And I can’t keep being the only one fighting for this."

Your breath caught. "That’s not fair," you said again, but your voice cracked this time.

"It’s exactly fair," he shot back. "I’ve been here, waiting, adjusting, giving you space. And I’m still the one left sitting at the table alone."

You sighed, trying to tamp down the irritation simmering beneath your guilt. "Yes, okay, you're right. I'm really sorry I'm so late. And I get it—you have every right to be upset. I fucked up. I admit that. But I’m usually the one waiting for you. It’s usually me sitting at the table alone.”

"What are you talking about?"

"Football season?" Your voice wavered, a little more frustration bleeding in. "How many dates have we canceled? Or ones that you literally just forgot about? Things that I want to do with you, but I have to wait until the offseason when it’s more ideal. I'm usually the one adjusting to your schedule, bending over backwards to adjust and yes, I knew what I signed up for—but I’m not gonna let you make me feel like shit when you do the same thing."

Justin’s face twisted, defensive and stubborn. "That’s different."

"Different?" Your voice rose. "How exactly?"

"Because I get paid an absurd amount of money to play football," he shot back.

For a moment, you just stared at him, disbelief washing over you. "Wow," you said quietly, your voice hollow. "So because I’m not a millionaire with endorsements, my job doesn’t matter?"

"That’s not what I meant," Justin said quickly, but you were already reeling. His words felt like a gut punch—not because you thought he believed that, but because it had been too easy for him to say it.

"It must be so hard to handle it when the world doesn’t revolve around your schedule? Right, QB1?” You utter slowly, lashing out at him like he’d just done to you. “Not everything is happening the way Justin wants it to so he's mad. But hey, you're a multi millionaire so it's fine. Right? I'll just take myself and my unimportant job with an insufficient salary and sleep in the guest room tonight." You bit out, voice shaking.

Justin’s jaw tensed. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?" you shot back, bitterness spilling out. "Call you out for acting like I’m supposed to drop everything just because you suddenly have free time?" You let out a short, humorless laugh. "You don’t get to act like I’m selfish just because I’m asking for a little bit of the same grace I give you all the time."

"You stood me up," Justin said tightly.

“And I apologized! Multiple times.”

He sighs, knowing this conversation should end but not knowing how he wants to end it. “So I’m supposed to just forgive you as soon as you say I’m sorry because you want me to make you feel better? I don’t think that’s very fair.”

"Neither is you acting like my job is just some hobby," you countered, your voice quieter now but trembling with frustration. "I love what I do. And I thought you did too."

Justin scrubbed a hand down his face. He didn’t have a comeback this time. Instead, he exhaled a sharp breath and muttered, "I just...I just miss you."

Your chest ached.

"I miss you too," you admitted softly.

But neither of you moved. Justin stood near the counter, arms crossed like armor, and you stood by the door, clutching your bag like a shield. The space between you felt heavier than it ever had before.

"I'm going to sleep," you said quietly, your voice strained. "Long day tomorrow."

He nodded, but didn’t respond. Too many emotions tangled in his head—anger, exhaustion and there was this ache in his bones that felt a little too close to heartbreak for his liking. The two of you rarely fought but this felt like popping a stitch post surgery. Everything was bleeding and he didn’t have a bandaid big enough to stop it. He’d already put his foot in his mouth once tonight, and pushing more words out felt like stepping on thin ice. Maybe giving you space was the safest option.

You didn’t look back. The sound of your footsteps fading down the hall felt louder than anything else in the room. Justin stayed at the table long after you were gone—staring at the untouched place settings, the empty wine glasses, the flickering candle that had burned halfway down.

He thought about blowing it out, ending the night for good but something stopped him. Instead, he let it burn a little longer, just in case you changed your mind and came back.

The gallery was breathtaking, exactly how you’d imagined it. The air smelled faintly of fresh grass and wildflowers, thanks to the indoor garden exhibit that stretched along the far wall. Real grass lined the floor, soft and cool beneath guests’ shoes. Vibrant blooms—deep purple foxgloves, bright yellow primroses, delicate white baby’s breath—spilled from carefully arranged beds. Guests wandered through the space, running their fingers along petals and stems, murmuring in awe at the tangible beauty of it all.

Nearby, a towering fairy sculpture commanded attention. Sculpted from twisted metal vines and glass wings that shimmered under soft lighting, she looked like she could spring to life at any moment. She stood at the heart of the exhibit, arms outstretched as if casting a spell over the enchanted garden.

Paintings framed the walls, some bold and chaotic, bursting with color and motion; others soft and dreamlike, capturing tender moments frozen in time. A large mural stretched across one wall—Titania and Oberon entwined in a dance of power and passion, their figures bathed in hues of gold and silver. The entire space felt like stepping inside A Midsummer Night’s Dream—ethereal, magical, and intoxicating.

Your boyfriend's family had shown up in full support. His parents admired the sculptures, his mother pointing out details with genuine excitement. His brothers Mitch and Patrick lingered near the drink station, sipping glasses of wine while greeting guests with warm smiles.

Justin stood beside you through most of the evening, stood being the key word. No casual arm around your waist. No fingertips grazing your back like they usually did. When guests stopped to compliment you, he smiled and congratulated you but his voice was clipped, his eyes distant. The tension between you hung thick in the air, impossible to ignore.

When his hand brushed yours at one point, you both instinctively pulled away as if burned.

Patrick noticed.

A little later, Patrick found Justin near the back of the room, pretending to study one of the paintings.

"Alright," Patrick said, crossing his arms. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing," Justin muttered.

"Yeah, right." Patrick took a sip of his drink. "You and her are acting like two people who just finalized their divorce and are pretending to be civil for the sake of the kids."

Justin huffed out a bitter laugh. "It's fine. Just... had a fight."

Patrick’s brow lifted. "Okay. About what?"

Justin hesitated, but Patrick wasn’t about to let him off the hook. His little brother had never been one for subtlety.

"Justin." His voice firm now.

"She was late to dinner last night," Justin said finally. "I planned this whole thing — private chef, the works and she just...forgot." He shook his head, frustration flickering again. "I waited for almost an hour. It felt like I didn’t even matter."

Patrick didn’t say anything at first, just stared at his brother like he was trying to piece something together.

"Look, I get why you're mad," Patrick said slowly. "But... you're not just pissed at her. You're pissed at yourself."

Justin blinked. "What? No. I—"

"Yes, you are." Patrick cut him off. "You’re dating a workaholic, Justin. And guess what? You’re a workaholic too. So last night?" He gestured vaguely. "That’s how she feels for six months out of the year. At least. And you know what? She never throws it in your face. Never makes you feel like crap for being too busy. And she still chooses you, every single day."

Justin swallowed hard, his eyes shifting back toward you across the room. You were laughing politely at something one of the guests had said, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"So yeah," Patrick continued. "She’s been busy lately, and yeah, maybe she’s been a little distant —but can you really blame her for being the thing she’s always been? The thing that attracted you to her the most in the first place? You wanted someone with their own career and their own ambitions and life goals too, remember? Now that you have it, you gotta learn give and take. Yes, being stood up sucks, but look at the masterpiece she created. She supports you in the stands every Sunday and now you get to show up for her big game. It may not look exactly the way you pictured it,” he nudged him after his play on words and Justin hates that he laughed. “But this is the life you said you’ve always wanted. And the person you’ve always wanted to live it with.”

Justin let out a long breath, feeling that tight knot of anger slowly start to unravel and he felt something else entirely, guilt and regret.

"I’m a hypocrite," Justin said quietly. “I messed up.”

"Then fix it," Patrick said simply. "Don’t let your pride make you screw this up."

Justin didn’t answer. He just stood there, watching you from across the room looking beautiful, exhausted, and so far away.

The energy in the gallery buzzed as guests mingled, glasses clinking and quiet conversations filling the air. The night was building toward your speech, the moment you’d worked so hard for. But as you stood near the back, trying to gather your thoughts, you felt a familiar hand on your elbow.

“Hey,” Justin said quietly.

You turned, surprised to see him standing so close. His expression was softer than it had been all night—less guarded, less angry—and something in your chest tightened.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You glanced toward the small stage where your microphone waited, then back at him. “Yeah,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He guided you to a quieter corner near the garden exhibit. The soft glow of the fairy sculpture bathed you both in gold and silver light, flickering off Justin’s tired eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low but firm. “For last night...for how I acted...for making you feel like your work doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “That was...that was messed up, and I knew it the second I said it.”

You swallowed hard, heart aching. “I’m sorry too,” you said quickly. “Not just for last night, but...for a lot of things. For being distracted, for not being around, for leaving my stuff everywhere and acting like I didn’t hear you when you were trying to talk about the patio.”

“You... you heard that?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course I did.” You gave a small, tired smile. “I know you want to put in a fire pit and string lights across the posts. I know you’ve been researching ways to keep the baby ducks warm and reading up on all the best practices. I know you’ve been trying, Justin.” Your voice wavered. “Even when I’ve been too busy to show it... I’ve been paying attention. I always pay attention.”

Justin exhaled, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “I was just...I don’t know. I was mad—but I was also hurt. And I guess...embarrassed. Like, what kind of guy throws himself a pity party because his girlfriend had an important work thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” you said softly. “You didn’t ruin anything. The fact that you’re here tonight... that’s what matters to me.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The warmth of his hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours like they always did and you swore the Earth was healing.

“You know,” you said, your voice soft but steady, “my favorite thing about you has always been how driven you are. How dedicated you are to being the best quarterback, the best teammate, the best leader you can be.” You squeezed his hand. “You’re the blueprint, baby.”

Justin smiled—not his usual grin, but one that radiated gratitude and joy in its most pure form.

“Thank you for always being patient with me. And,” he murmured, “you were QB1 this week. Seriously...I’ve never seen a more clutch performance.” He smirked. “Might have to watch your film—learn a thing or two.”

You laughed, for the first time in what felt like weeks, and Justin leaned in, pressing his lips softly to yours. The kiss was warm, light, and grounding, like finding your way home after being lost.

“You’ve got this,” he said quietly when he pulled back. “I’ll be right here.”

Moments later, you stood in front of the room, microphone in hand.

“Thank you all so much for being here tonight,” you began, voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “This project has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but also one of the most rewarding.”

You paused, glancing out at the crowd. Your parents stood proudly near the front, and beside them, Justin watched you with that familiar look, the one that said he was proud of you and would be right there to cheer you on no matter what.

“I want to thank my incredible team for bringing this vision to life,” you continued. “I want to thank my friends and my family for believing in me, even on the days I didn’t believe in myself.” Your eyes found Justin again. “And I especially want to thank my partner. Because his work ethic is a work of art—and he inspires me every single day.”

Justin’s smile stretched wide, and this time, you let your gaze linger, a quiet promise passing between you.

You were both still learning, still figuring out how to meet each other in the middle. How to find that delicate work-life balance and still make each other a priority. But tonight? The middle wasn’t so bad.

[neyafromfrance95]

i usually try to not indulge in theorizing and prefer to analyze what we got at hand instead.

but! i just can't keep myself from contributing to this one speculation.

let's look at adar's warning to galadriel:

"but sooner or later, he sees you. not just who you are, but who you wish to be. his eye bores a hole and the rest of him slithers in. for a while, he even makes you believe that his power has become yours. irresistible power… that makes every desire’s fulfillment seem inevitable. an ocean of color."

it is insane how precisely this line parallels the fight -> awakening sequence!

first, sauron tells galadriel that he sees her while she is crawling on the ground. he tells her that he sees her as a queen worthy of worship as he pierces and penetrates her flesh with morgoth's crown, doesn't let her break the eye contact as he pushes in. then he suddenly starts talking to her in her mind?! for what reason? maybe to make sure their bond is established/strengthened. her wound is clearly shaped like sauron's eye and we see sauron frantically trying to see her after she jumps. it's interesting that right after we see sauron looking like smtng caught his attention, we see galadriel through a tunnel vision, maybe to indicate that it's sauron seeing her? and from gil-galad, we learn that morgoth's crown slithered in some sort of substance that is pulling her into the darkness. then suddenly, even tho she is still in the process of healing, it's implied that she is seeing the surroundings in the beautiful, vivid colors...

could it be that sauron has shared his powers with her through their bond? that would explain her own powers in lotr and sauron still groping to see her mind. have the doors for these storylines been opened in this season's finale?

galadriel thinking she has fully resisted the darkness and then it turning out that her fight with the darkness has just started would subvert not only the viewers' expectations, but galadriel's as well, and it would fit her conversation with adar when she confidently tells him she has resisted and he warns her that it's just temporary!

what if she does not bind him to the light, but he still binds her to power!!!

she doesn't let him worship her, so in a way, he takes an ownership of her!!!

i think there is no question that sauron stabbing galadriel with the same crown he was stabbed with is supposed to signify a binding. but could this binding manifest in more explicit ways than in a subtext?

now, i do not like to theorize bc these theories may simply not come true, yk? but i rather hold onto this hope than dread the possibility of them pushing galadriel into the background, completely stripping her off of any complexity and watering her down, turning her into a stay-at-home tradwife that she never was in any canon whatsoever.

i don't care if we get haladriel romance explicitly, but we can't have the incelbros winning!

[luvtak]

seasons of love, hhj

✦ pairing hyunjin x reader

✦ genre/tw FLUFF! FLUFF! ONE MORE TIME SAY IT WITH ME! FLUFF!!! hyunjin and mc are very much in love! hyunjin is said to be taller than mc and have bigger hands. lots of kisses and i love yous. suggestive in a couple places. in and out of present and past tense lol. overall very sweet and lovely--hyunjin and mc falling in love through the seasons

✦ w/c 2412

✦ a/n okay so! this is a rewrite of something i posted springtime last year and i hated it lol. this time around i am very proud of hyune and mc and they’re love story and i hope you all love it too!! I've spent months adding scenes and taking them away until I got here <3 please like and reblog, and please please reach out if you have any ideas or questions or just wanna talk!! love you guys forever, mwah!!

He came to you in the Summer, bringing with him music and dancing, and so much laughter you forget how serious falling in love can be.

There is just something about warm weather. It could be the sun shining over your beloved, lighting them up like a god or a king, maybe it’s just that the temperature resembles the touch of your lover’s caress, or that the awakened world is made for romance. It was early July, and everything was blue and sunny; days were filled with jokes and getting to know each other over hot days and cold drinks. Confessions given on front porches and whispered under blue skies—a million firsts bundled up as the heat went away.

He tells you he likes you so quietly, whispering in his sweet little voice, “would you like to go out sometime?” 

The way his tall frame looked against the paint palette sunset would live in your head forever; pretty hair and long legs, the sweetest smile curving up to his crescent moon eyes. Looking back, you wished you had a camera or shared his talent with a paintbrush–just to have that moment set in stone. The smile that made you say yes. 

In the beginning, he was too shy to hold your hand or stand too close. Inching closer and closer until he stood against you–brushing his fingers against yours until his big hands were enveloping your smaller ones. 

 The first time he kissed you, his hands were shaking.

 He was so nervous you could feel the goosebumps rising on his arms, but he asked so sweetly,

“Can I kiss you.” And there was no way you’d ever say no. Not when he stood there in his summer clothes and pink cheeks, not when it was Hyunjin asking. 

He held you straight against him, both hands on your face—the first press of his lips like drinking water, so slow as not to choke then gulping it down. His skin was soft everywhere you touched, and his kiss was happy: full of teeth and giggles and coming up for air.

Getting to know him was like walking into your childhood home, everything about him as familiar as the lines on your palm. Some parts of you are certain you’ve known him before—maybe you were lovers then too, or maybe two trees whose roots were intertwined. In any reality, you can’t see how Hyunjin is supposed to be with you. There is just no other reason why he could know you so well already, no other explanation as to why his body fits around you like it was made to.

Late one night you tell him your theories, and the smile he gave you was so bright and shiny you thought the sun came up. You tell him calmly and earnestly,

 “Hyun, I’m almost certain we’ve already met thousands of times before.” 

August is hot and covered in orange sunsets and long kisses; pink skies the same color as his cheeks when he asks you out again and again. He tells you about his life while you flip through his journals, page after page dedicated to moments he loved and dreams he’s had, and moments yet to come.

The days are long and it’s so easy to care for him, 15 hours of sunlight allowing you to learn all of him and still need more. Sharing secrets under leaves and laughs under covers–it’s too quick to fall in love, too fast for this insatiable longing to rise up in you. But you think you are, you must be, what else could that aching pull in your tummy be? 

The first I love you falls from your lips like the leaves around you. A day spent shopping in the Halloween aisles and holding hands to keep warm. He looks so pretty, dark hair standing out against the grays and oranges of the season, and you love him so much you can’t help but tell him. The words float easy, accompanied by wind bitten skin and a warm gaze.

At first, he hesitates, making sure he’s heard you right, until finally the sun breaks on his face and he speaks.

“I love you too, silly.” He says it like it’s obvious, and it is. He’s been telling you with his eyes and his hands for months, it’s the truest he’s ever felt.

Autumn is spent studying each other, learning how and when to touch—how to make him gasp and sigh. His eyes flutter when you kiss his hip and roll when you bite down; He scratches and pulls, he makes your teeth rattle with his skin. Late nights and early mornings mapping each other, he tells you he loves you and swallows the response, touches the words away.

“I love you; I love you; I love you.” You say over and over again, hoping it sinks into his soul like a second skin.

In mere months, he knows your heart like it’s his own, slotting himself into your life like he’s always been a part of it. Your body has become his home; he’s tied his heart to yours in a double knot. You’re made for him, he’s sure of it—molded from the same clay, split-a parts who’ve found each other.

He tells you things he’s never told anyone before, pressing the secrets against your lips and pulling all of your secrets out of you at the same time. 

He adores you, cherishes you as a person, a friend, a lover. He feels happier than he ever has, and he wants to show you to everyone he knows. When he introduces you to his friends, the smile never leaves his face and his hand stays wound with yours. They welcome you like an old friend, and he feels like both pieces of his heart are melting together. He watches you joke with Felix and be teased by Minho, and he thinks you’re the piece that’s been missing this whole time.

Months have been spent just the two of you, and it’s been perfect–intimate and so warm, but seeing you among his friends changes things. Almost like it wasn’t yet real, and now it is. 

When you go to bed that night, he tells you,

“They love you and I love you.”  and the look you give him is so beautiful, he thinks he should bottle it and save it for later.  

Winter brings an unwelcome guest, a yearning for him that won’t go away—it’s harder to love him when he’s busy, and you wish you could be stronger and less jealous, but you’re only one person. It gets considerably difficult to wash the harsh feelings away when he isn’t there to help you, too many nights spent feeling too far away from him induce an anger you can’t get rid of.

When he arrives late and smelling of alcohol, you can’t seem to swallow the bitterness—why would he be drinking when he could be here with you? 

Hyunjin, never a novice in reading you, picks it up right away. 

One quick comment and then yelling. 

“Are you just tired of me?” It escapes from your tongue like a lash, pricking invisible scars onto every vein. He wishes you would know he misses you too, but how could you when he’s never around, not physically nor emotionally, so you keep screaming. Yelling so loud about things that don’t matter. You hope he knows you’re fighting to stay, not to leave, but the words leaving your mouths are so harsh, you can’t be certain if he remembers he loves you.

If you were in your right mind, you’d know he doesn’t want it this way. Everyday he longs for the heat of summer and the comfort of autumn. If he wasn’t drunk, he could tell you, but instead he says, “I just can’t do this anymore.” Maybe it’s better to let go and find each other next time, next life.

 Recently it’s been too hard, and maybe he’s not strong enough to learn about this part of you, but you are.

You’ve never been afraid to learn his bad parts, sure he’s a dream shaped like a boy, but he’s also whiny and clingy, and sometimes he gives up too fast. Even though it’s hard, and the tears are streaming into the seam of your lips—you gulp down the acidity and tell him you love him.

“It’s never going to get easier, Hyun, you’ll always be busy, and I’ll probably always miss you, but I love you and you said we’re meant to be, and you’re not a liar.” You tell him you’re sorry for yelling, and he says he’s sorry too, and in the morning, he’ll use his hands to apologize and then his mouth and he’ll promise to keep you warm when he can.

Winter is spent learning to love the pieces of each other that are unlikable, to see the invisible boundaries of before and honor them. You remember your theory about the trees with woven roots, and you remind yourself sometimes you’ll have to sacrifice your share of the water to survive, and you hope it’ll be easier when the world reawakens.

Night comes so fast, and it's so cold, but he loves you. It’s been half a year now, and you almost can’t remember where you were this time last year. Were you freezing without him? Or did you only feel the cold now that he’s here? 

All you know is his warmth–pressing into you wherever he can. 

A silent promise for the spring yet to come. 

His birthday arrives with the first of the blooms, the world not yet alive. You wish him happy birthday under warm sheets, whimpering the words in place of presents. He spends the day with the people he loves most and the happiness he feels eases into spring. He tells you it used to be his favorite; and you promise for his day you will bring some of the magic back.

 You help him pick flowers to paint, and read him your favorite stories, you kiss him under cherry blossoms and show him your favorite sunsets. It helps some, but not all—even so, spring with you is prettier than without. He’s sure his skin is brighter because you kiss it, and his paintings are better because they’re of you. He doesn’t know if you believe him, but he means it. His world has become technicolor since you walked into it.

He says it’s just better with you, “I mean it, honey, life is unbelievable when you’re around.”

It’s almost been a year, months spent learning and growing just like the flowers scattered around you. He loves you, so it takes no hesitation when you ask him to move in. He feels like it was already in the midst of happening anyway—his one drawer became a dresser, and his favorite snacks found their way to your cabinets.

Months ago, your heart became his home, and now he gets to live in it every day. Sure, you bicker some: many sighs of “That’s not where that goes, Hyun.” Combined with sweet mutters of “Well, it should go there, sweetheart.” But it’s exhilarating to open his boxes and link his life with yours—mitch-matched mugs in the sink and dirty clothes mixed together.

Your home is filled with dancing and music, laughter and love. His paintings cover the walls, pictures of your days held with magnets on the fridge. His life is now yours and your days belong to each other, and every night he reminds you it’s almost been a year, but how could you forget.

Sometimes, when he puts a dish away wrong, or leaves his clothes on the floor, you question why you invited him in. Even so, you wouldn’t take it back. He’s added so much color into your life, spring personified. A lovely romantic boy who sets your soul on fire. 

The flowers that line the street remind you of him, and the bees who accompany you on your walk sing a quiet song that resembles his sweet nothings.

 Your sweet spring boy, Hyunjin.

 Radiant in every season. 

Somehow, he looks the prettiest in the July heat. Of course, every season you’ve spent with him he’s been beautiful, but there is something about his smile surrounded by clear skies. His cheeks are the same color as the flowers and his kisses as warm as the sun. Something about the season where you first met, encasing him in a beauty befit of a prince. You can’t believe it’s been a year with him, a year getting to know how to love him and feeling his love back.

Looking at him now, he could probably make you do anything which is why when he woke you up at the crack of dawn dragging you out to see the sunrise you couldn’t say no. It was frustrating at first, when all you wanted was a few more hours in bed next to him, but Hyunjin could make you do anything if he smiled down at you.

He’s doing it now, looking so darling in his light sweater and clips in his bed-messed hair, looking past you at the sunrise. You love him like this, and it takes all of you not to tell him, to keep the peace of dawn. 

You’ve loved things before—people, places, things, but never a boy like this.

Hwang Hyunjin is so precious, so dear to you that it hurts sometimes. No one has ever loved you the way he does, his love surrounds you—covers you under a warm blanket of his affection until it radiates into you.

He’s telling you how pretty you are, how you look like the fresh blooms and you’re laughing—which is all he wanted. He only ever wants to make you happy, even if that means being a cheeseball sometimes. Especially if that means waking you up early enough to see the sun come up, and he wants to see that smile again, so he asks,

 “Honey, do you wanna know a secret?”

“Oooo, yes tell me.”

“I love you.” It comes so easy, flows so quickly past his lips like a nightly prayer, like it’s something so objectively true he can’t lie about it, which it is. And your smiles is so wide, laughing at how sweet your boy is, and you say,

“Oh, I already Knew that. I love you too.” And he smiles, grinning at the summer sky.

© LUVTAK

[respectthepetty]

The Monster Next Door & Livid Lad

I squeezed in all three episodes of Monster Next Door while traveling with a 7" Chromebook, so now that I have truly no time and no patience (because this thirty image limit is stifling), I'm jumping straight into what I came for - COLORS!

The promo for this show gave me introverted Diew in blue and extroverted God in yellow/orange, which would make perfect sense for the characters and this story!

And the first episode started with God bursting onto the scene with his orange bike and yellow lightning bolt helmet versus Diew walking in his gray.

But I've seen this color-story before from another WeTV offering!

And in this story (Cooking Crush), there was a Blue Boy who didn't like people touching him, had a difficult time communicating, and lived a pretty isolated life.

But . . . that's because he wasn't really blue. He was livid!

Some history and a little bit of science: *deep breath* Livid is the term for the color "blue-gray" and comes from a Latin word meaning "a dull gray blue" however, we associate livid with red because red means anger which we also connect to heat and flames, but the hottest part of a flame is its center which is actually blue not red, so although in color theory we say warm colors are red, yellow, and orange, and cool colors are blue, green, and purple, in the universe, it's the opposite, so our Sun for example isn't that hot because it's only red, yellow, and orange because if our Sun was really hot, it'd be blue (or even white!), and we'd all be fried and dead because that'd be super duper uber hot! Make sense? *another deep breath* The point is that Diew is a Livid Lad.

He is gray-blue.

He is calm and stable like a Blue Boy. He is sad and lonely like a Gray Guy. He is rigid and smart like both.

But just like his fellow Livid Lad Ten in Cooking Crush, who gave the sweetest compliments then punched a guy, Diew is not to be toyed with.

So we see his notes in his color scheme telling God to stop being loud, stop giving him snacks, and stop drawing on the table.

Which brings me to God, who should be this bright and loud yellow/oranege extrovert according to the promo material for the show, but . . . once again, I've seen this color-story before, and as colorful as I thought Prem was compared to his Livid Lad, all roads lead to pink.

In Cooking Crush, it was stated often that Prem put his heart into cooking which is why people could taste the love in his food. Interesting.

The American baseball team Cleveland Indians changed its name and mascot in 2021 because it's the 21st-century and we need to stop doing offensive shit, but even with the name change to Cleveland Guardians, the team has always been a vibrant red.

I noticed immediately that the show is softening the red on God's body so it almost becomes pink when he gets help from Diew in the beginning, and it happens again when he reads the time-traveling romance novel Diew suggests since God is wearing a shirt from the American soda company Dr. Pepper, which its color is maroon(ish), yet in the show, it is soft.

But much like Cooking Crush's Prem, God seems like a Multicolored Menace compared to his Livid Lad.

He wears different colors while Diew wears mostly grays and blues.

His apartment has colorful cool lighting while Diew's apartment has warm natural-looking lighting.

And when he has a bad day at band practice, he loses his color.

But when God asked Diew to date him, he was wearing that soft Dr. Pepper shirt, and when Diew agreed to it a few nights later, Diew was wearing pink on his shirt, which is the first color we have seen on his body, and God was wearing gray. Diew also wore this shirt when he got Khun Shy, his turtle.

And when God just stands in complete silence eating a chocolate bar even though he doesn't like sweets but remembers that Diew likes eating chocolate to make himself happy, he is wearing blue.

But the thing is, Diew isn't just blue and God isn't all colorful, which is why this blueish-(purple) pink doesn't work.

God's core is pink because he puts his heart into what he does. He loves being with his friends (and hates being alone! Don't think I didn't pick that up when he mentioned he originally intended to have a roommate). He loves being on stage and playing music. He loves meeting new people and helping them. He's a lover!

He is bright pink when Diew takes care of him.

But he is also pink when he is giving his friend advice to sit in his feelings and to share them.

And that's why his sticky notes are pink.

These color-coded boys are communicating to each other in their own language and their own color by exchanging the notes. God is a kind and caring (and sometimes immature) Pink Person who gives love in all these tiny ways, and Diew is a calm and quiet (and sometimes a little pissed off) Livid Lad who puts up a fight in all these tiny ways, but when the wall between them (and their balconies) come down, they'll have to create a new middle ground between the Monster Next Door and a Livid Lad because wanting to put so much love into everything versus being so terrified to put love into anything is going to make them re-evaluate how to show love to each other.

They'll have to find ~balance~ not only with each other, but also within themselves.

[skellseerwriting]

Claderus Lore Theories and Observations

Spoilers for some of Calderus's gifts

I'm going to go into depth on the dragon statues and statuettes, and what I think they mean, along with data I've obtained from the official wiki

First: The Calderus statue on our farm and the dragon statue in the mines are NOT the same dragon/statue (I used to think they were the same and I'm sure I'm not alone)

Here is a side by side comparison, with the most notable difference being the horns. The mines statue has its horn arching nearly to the center of its head, whereas Calderus's barely reaches above his eye. Similarly, the snouts and front legs have a different thickness, and there's also a difference in eye shape

I also want to note that the little engravings on the pedestal look exactly the same, so I'm curious if they have any meaning

Another thing to note, and I'm not sure if this is intentional or an error on the devs' part, but different parts of the official wiki says different things about the mines statue

Under skill perks, the dragon statue in the mines is referred to as just that. If you go into the specific mining and combat pages however, you get something else (I only used the mining page for reference)

Here, the mines statue is referred to as the Calderus statue in the mines. I would understand if the devs want us to think this statue is Calderus as a sort of red herring, but the inconsistency of wiki claims makes me second guess that theory. Maybe they originally wanted us to think it was Calderus but forgot to update certain pages?

Regardless, one thing is certain: there is intentional mystery being shrouded over this dragon statue. If not by the incorrect data, then by the mere fact that this strange dragon isn't being brought to the player's attention in any significant way while playing the game

Eye Break

Now, lets compare the statues to the statuettes

On the left is the Calderus statuette, and on the right is the unknown one. If you look at the circled horns you'll see they match their respective statue above (taking the limited pixels into consideration). The cool-toned unknown statuette also reflects the coloring of the mines statue better (considering its in darker lighting too)

As you may have noticed, Calderus's statuette is a loved gift, while the other one is a hated gift. So clearly, there’s some bad blood of sort between Calderus and the dragon that this statuette represents. Whether it be because of something saddening or out of hatred, I don’t know. What I am sure of is that we will probably get more backstory from Calderus as he gets integrated into the game more, and I can’t wait for crumbs

What interests me most is that we have no lore, no hints about this other supposed dragon. Calderus never brings them up. Never brings up someone from his past (for now). The only mentions we have on this other dragon comes from Eiland's comments on the unknown statuette

One thing that intrigues me about this line is the pluralization of "dragon statues". This implies their are other dragon statues of Calderus in Mistria (that we haven't seen) OR that there are other dragons who aren't Calderus (or he's referring to the countless Calderus statuettes you can find). Regardless, this dragon statuette is different

That leaves the questions: Who is this dragon? What is their history with Calderus? With Mistria? Will we get more lore on them? (I think so)

As always folks, continue to romance that dragon <3

[sngj08]

[Not so Quiet Boy] Sunghoon x fem!reader {Part 2}

summary: your friend tries to set you up with an old acquaintance of yours in hopes to get him a girlfriend by the end of his senior year

genre: crush to friends, friends to lovers, crush to lovers, high school romance, after school and outside of school hangouts, mixed signals, friends playing cupid, friends not saying everything, obvious flirting but protagonist doesn't see,

warning: profanity

author's note: all of this is from true experience and none of them were altered besides names.

taglist status: OPEN

prev / masterlist / next

Silhouette

“I don’t know. Well I liked him since freshman year but it seems to disappear nowadays because I don’t usually hang out with him.” You explain yourself to her. “You should have told me earlier that you liked him so that I would have set you up sooner!” Elisa said, making you embarrassed. “I don’t really know. I mean I don’t even know what his type is and he doesn’t seem interested in any relationship knowing he pulls the girls on campus pretty well.” You said to Elisa, making her nod her head. “Well you do match his type as well.” She said under her breath but you still heard it. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” You said to Elisa as you arrived home, got out of the car and bid her goodbye.

The following week was the concert week so during dance class, your group was assigned to work on the stage to practice.

As the group went on stage, you see the lights on for a different dance. “Woah.” Some of your classmates said, “Who do you think is in the booth?” Your friend went up to you as you wanted to say jokingly. “Probably Jay because Elisa said he needed to do something in the booth.” You said, waving your hand above your head to see the silhouette of the person wave back. “It could also be Annie.” Your friend also said, making you nod in her theory.

“Ok let’s practice guys!” One of the leaders said with a serious tone. “But isn’t it too dark?” The other leader said as she looked at the previous leader. “Can you turn on some lights?” She turned around to tell the person in the tech booth but they didn’t change the lights.

The leaders tried calling out multiple times but nothing. “Can you make it a bit brighter here!” You screamed but also nothing so everyone just collectively sighed until some lights came on. “Thank you!” You wave to the person in the tech booth and they waved back again.

After class, you went to Elisa because you needed a ride home again. While walking home, you opened up a topic. “Someone was at the booth today when we were on stage. Do you know who it was?” You asked her and she nodded. “Yeah it was Sunghoon. He was fixing some lights today. Why?” She said to you while raising her eyebrows. “I thought it was Evan because I waved and he waved back. Sunghoon doesn’t lift up a finger to say Hi so i thought it was Evan.” You shrug off, but deep down, you were panicking. What if he heard that you thought it was Evan and not him.

The next day you needed to practice on stage one last time before double dress rehearsal this afternoon.

The lights were on, the same ones from yesterday making you know it was Sunghoon so you deliberately tried to ignore the tech booth even when it was somewhat dark and the lights kept on changing. 

“That’s a nice color purple.” You said to your friend, trying to act busy. “You’re acting weird.” Your friend whispered to you. “Great, you noticed.” You smiled at her weirdly. “What is it?” She asked you. “Remember yesterday when we were waving to the tech booth thinking it was Evan or Vivi? Yeah no it was Sunghoon.” You said in embarrassment while closing your eyes. “We? No, I didn't wave. YOU did.” She said pointing at you, making you feel worse. “Your cheeks are red.” Your friend gives out a laugh seeing your face. “Oh shut the fuck up.” You playfully hit her until a strobe light started which made everyone on stage gasp. You didn’t mind it that much as you looked at your shadow flicker but it has been a minute and it hasn’t turned off yet, you closed your eyes hard and held out your hand for your head for it to stop spinning. “Evan stop the strobe!…. Dancers on stage!” You hear a faint scream from the tech booth then the strobe finally stops making everybody sigh in relief.

After class you get your bag and see Elisa and Sunghoon outside waiting for you. “Are you ready to go?” Elisa said to you, making you nod. “Do you need help with the bags?” Sunghoon said as you were visibly struggling with multiple bags in your hand. “No it’s ok. I’m independent like that.” You said still visually struggling so Sunghoon takes one of your bags. You were about to say something against him but Elisa starts heading to the door. “Elis-” You were about to ask her to wait but she already left the building.

In slight frustration of things not going the way you want it. You follow Elisa outside the door. You reach the door but then it opens in front you. You look down to the door handle to see Sunghoon struggling to hold the door for you so you move to the side.

You mention that he can go ahead. “No. Ladies first.” He insisted, mentioning to you to go ahead. “No. You’re already holding my bag.” You protest to him. “No. Just go.” He said again as you sighed in defeat and went outside to see Elisa walking on the grass, on the way to her car.

“Why are you guys so slow?” She said beside her boyfriend who came out of no where, she turned behind to see you and Sunghoon while you shrug and look at Sunghoon behind you. Suddenly Sunghoon walks faster to catch up with Elisa but then holds your hand to join him to catch up to the couple in front of us. Technically being dragged by him, while your eyes were just looking at his hand.

Until we were a few steps away from Elisa, he let go of your hand and placed his in his pocket while still carrying your bag. “Oh wait Yn, this is Jad” Elisa said looking at you, introducing her boyfriend. “Hello! It’s nice to meet you!” He said to you as he glanced at you with a smile then looking at Sunghoon.

“So are you guys ready for the dance concert?” Elisa's boyfriend asked an open question for everyone. “No” Everyone else complained in unison. “I have a feeling you guys will do great.” Jad said in reassurance.

taglist: (open) @enhacolor @beigerin @tasnemluvs @parkjjongswifey @usuallyunlikelyfox

[maybe-boys-do-love]

The Only Friends Conspiracy Corner

Welcome to my Only Friends conspiracy theory corner, where I lose my mind on the regular and explain why I believe Only Friends is a veiled commentary on the Thai BL entertainment industry and its relationship to Thailand's soft power economic model, especially Thailand's gay (aka pink money) tourism. As The Heart Killers gets relatively explicit about issues of structural political and economic power, now seems as good a time as ever to talk about Jojo’s last show that seemed to me to put so much of its political work in the subtext. This is just the starter pack. Hit me up with more thoughts anytime!

The Only Friends Hostel business. We have business majors in this show, a rarity in Thai BL, and for their class project they're opening a hostel. Each member of the friend group has a business role to play--Ray provides the real estate, Mew takes on leadership of finances and accounting, Cheum provides PR, and Boston's tasked with creative direction--but the value of the individuals, their roles in the business, and their willingness to collaborate with one another is the tension that drives the series. The characterizations, dialogue, and events in the series ought to be viewed in light of this. Mew, for example, partners off with Top, who encroaches on the friends' trivia group to answer for them a question about Thailand's first hotel, The Oriental, which two Americans established for sailors in Bangkok shortly after the opening of the Kingdom of Siam to international trade in 1855 and later two Dutch business partners reestablished after a fire. A single answer links Top to the influx of Western capitalism in the form of a hotel in Thailand! To count up the economic references in Only Friends would take a massive spreadsheet.

Artistic Passions. Each boy in the Y.O.L.O. bar friend group is associated with one artistic medium. Boston with photography and visual arts more broadly, Ray with music, and Mew with books (lol there's a scene in the last episode in which the translation has Force use the word force in a sentence immediately followed by Book as Mew mentioning his "books"). These are the components of the television and film medium: visuals, sound, and writing. Their romantic entanglements are also colored by their preferred medium and the narrative styles associated with them. Boston has his sensual dark room developments *wink wink,* Ray hooks up with a musician to visit record stores and concerts like a romantic movie couple, Mew makes his ideal seme court him in bookstores and dates straight out of a BL romcom novel. Even Cheum’s girlfriend, April, makes indie movies that go over our token lesbian’s head.

Atom, Cheum, and Mew’s BL Fantasies. It’s not surprising Cheum’s not about those art house flicks. Her, her brother, and Mew all espouse some BL tropes with harmful consequences. The most blatant is Atom’s stated belief that he ‘turned gay’ because of Boston, which he’s corrected on, but Atom, Nick, and Mew all commit to the BL (and broader romance) trope of equating first affections with true love. And Cheum sorts the gay men of her life into simplified categories of red flags or green flags, predators or cinnamon buns. Not all BLs are so simplistic with their trope usage and characterizations, but Only Friends highlights damaging tendencies that occur in the genre and among its fans.

The Pairings. Speaking of fans, one of the key strategies for creating fan interest are the pairings. While not unique to the BL industry entirely—Hollywood’s been pairing actors for publicity and dollars from pretty early on—BL pairs have a pretty distinct flavor, and Only Friends’ casting takes advantage of that. For our pair associated with the most fluffy BL narratives, we have ForceBook, a CP only ever paired together who have known one another since kindergarten. The maturer second love romance goes to FirstKhao, who both worked in other pairings before landing in their current contractual partner relationship. The situationship to end all situationships goes to two actors who, at the time, were not in a CP, something that Jojo has specifically mentioned as relevant to his interests when casting.

The Boeing of it all. Named after a fucking airplane manufacturer, with multiple references to his dreams of traveling internationally (concerts with Sand), flight (he's working to be a airline attendant), and flightiness (both his flightiness toward his bf’s and his encouragement of others to fly away from their partners). In a show explicitly about the hospitality industry? In a genre dependent on international viewers??? In one name, we get such a fountain of economic insight!

Begin Again. In the finale episode, Ray tells Sand he always wanted to wander around listening to music like they did in Begin Again. In fact, Mew and Top’s silent disco moment plays homage to the same sequence. Begin Again, however, is not a romance, despite what the marketing and weak reviews (from critics who expected a swooning repeat of indie gem Once from its director) implied. Instead, Begin Again uses romantic expectations as a trojan horse for an insider portrait of the music industry as the streaming industry changed its operating models. The leads are Mark Ruffalo who plays a has-been alcoholic producer (an important reference to even better understand Ray’s role in the hostel business) and Kiera Knightly, playing a singer-songwriter betrayed by her rising star boyfriend (acted by Adam Levine from Maroon 5). Spoiler alert: If you imagine something more between Knightly and Ruffalo’s characters than the deep relationship creatives can form making art together, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Ruffalo’s character goes back to his ex-wife (a bad omen for SandRay stans since the characters spend the time preceding their romantic walk in the last episode arguing about whether they still have feelings for their exes). Knightly’s chanteuse gets her former boyfriend to apologize and sing her song without pop theatrics on stage but she chooses not to join him and stick to her own independent path. Importantly, the film by the end respects both the popular and auteur artistic sensibilities, reserving more ire for the business models. No one character or method is completely demonized or sanctified. I can’t help but recognize a similar spirit in the portrayal of the three gay romance narratives in Only Friends—Boston’s queer tragedy, Ray’s tear-jerking gay romantic drama, or Mew’s BL comedy. The show acknowledges the formative role of those storytelling modes in the BL industry and even touches on some economic realities of choosing one mode over another. Some exemplary dialogue from the Begin Again: 

“I just think that an A&R [a record label’s artists and repertoire representative] man telling an artist how they should dress or come across is total bullshit. People don’t want that. They want authenticity”

“Authenticity! Give me the name of one artist that you think passes your authenticity test…I’m not saying you can’t be a real bona fide motherfucker in this business but you’ve got to do whatever it takes and get people in to see your shows where THE MUSIC can start to do its real work.”

Personal Hygiene Lessons. In the last two episodes, we witness Ray’s community service teaching children about hygiene. “Once upon a time…” he begins, which immediately alerts me to television writers depicting the act of storytelling. It’s a story attempting to encourage daily toothbrushing to protect from plaque, but Sand steps in and scares them with the threat of a bug crawling into their body if they don’t brush their teeth—suspiciously more similar to issues of sexual health than teeth brushing. The next clinic presentation is about washing out your nose. Either Thailand’s got some hygiene practices I don’t know about, or Jojo’s writing team snuck in a sneaky reference to douching. Watching, I was reminded that Jojo and his good friend and fellow director Aof Noppharnach (Bad Buddy, ATOTS, so many other huge GMMTV series!) began their careers writing and directing a series directly about sexual health for GayOK Bangkok, produced by an HIV testing organization. After the first presentation, Sand explains, “I’m approachable to all ages and genders,” a prime marketing demographic if I’ve ever heard one! Just like Sand, Aof, who is now the senior director of content production at GMMTV, has made inroads for himself and others into a massive market by developing a writing, directing, and producing strategy for integrating queer content (here’s my post about his recurring motifs around HIV treatment) within family-friendly BL shows, often with a romantic fairytale-like quality hearkening back to Ray’s “Once upon a time…” 

The Politician. The parents included in the series have distinguished economic and political circumstances they're associated with. Bear with me on the political-economy history lessons here. Boston, most prominently, has a father running for political office, and we meet him for the first time while Boston's wearing a 1998 t-shirt, the year the Thai Rak Thai (Thais Love Thais) party was founded by Thaksin Shinawatra, telecom billionaire and Thailand's first prime minister to lead a democratically elected government through a full-term in office beginning in 2001. He led key initiatives to promote tourism, make healthcare accessible, and, controversially, crackdown on drugs. Essentially, he provided the vision for the government that kick-started Thailand's move to its current project of soft-power. In fact, his youngest daughter, Paetongtarn Shinawatra, (who describes herself as a "socially liberal capitalist") is the current prime minister partly responsible for overseeing the equal marriage bill into law. Thaksin was ousted by a military coup in 2006 following his family's decision to sell its shares in major Thai telecom group to a Singaporean company and, faced with corruption charges in 2008, lived in exile (until September 2023, less than a month after Only Friends started airing). Ousted for not playing his part in supporting a Thai business? Boston, is that you? There is also a comment in the first episode about the massage parlor Boston's father built his financial success off of, and there's a conversation to be had there about Thailand's Thaksin-led shift away from and crackdown on its sex tourism industry. (The Department for Communicable Disease Control shirt on Style's shirt in episode 3 of The Heart Killers is a government organization in Thailand, not Alabama as the shirt says, which among other things monitors direct sex workers for STDs.) How might a focus on constant financial and moral improvement harm those who fail sanctions against promiscuity? What I find so artful about Boston's potential linkage to Thaksin is how he's constructed as Thaksin's parallel--in his journey toward exile and the over-consumption that led him there--and his antithesis. Boston's the victim, at least in his emotional well-being, of a neoliberal legacy. Thaksin's policies, similar to those of Rudy Giuliani and his predecessors in NYC, promoted family-friendly tourism and industry growth by supporting the corporate partnerships and broken window policing to price out and criminalize those unconventional populations who had taken refuge or even just found themselves in these locales after being marginalized elsewhere. In the same vein, the privileging of monogamous pairing in both BL narratives and BL fan-service expectations serve important goals encouraging breadths of people to accept and embrace gay love socially and politically—Thailand’s upcoming marriage rights bill, more expansive than most western countries, certainly has the BL industry’s influence to thank. Without further input, however, they neglect queer experiences beyond the realm of the first love or marriage plot. They neglect greater issues of equity, compassion, and freedom due to each individual human being (both actors and the general population), which the LGBT population, among others, has historically had an intimate experience with being denied or limited. 

Nick’s Digital Underworld. Nick’s our little tech wunderkind in OnlyFriends. His character fixes phones, hooks up cameras and recording equipment, makes digital campaign posters, you name it! And I personally love that he’s both a skeevy pathetic tech wizard and radiantly beautiful. His cute-factor almost lets us forget about his voyeuristic tendencies. He’s just a content enjoyer, and Boston loves creating content—he just doesn’t want himself recorded…So why doesn’t Nick just get off to some porn instead? Only Friends didn’t name itself so closely to the amateur adult content website for no reason! In fact, we got an OnlyFans reference in The Heart Killers episode 4. Imma have to thank this post for noticing an OnlyFans sign in the background of Addicted Heroin Th and pointing out that it’s illegal in Thailand, cuz I had never considered anything about the country’s pornography laws or internet censorship. I’ll try to restrain myself from blabbering too much about the history I found here and here, but the important part: Thaksin’s once again our guy kicking it off. The Thaksin government censorship focused heavily on antipornography and the 2006 military coup brought in a more Orwellian political flavor to the proceedings, both of which have basically proliferated with continuing regime changes. In 2020, mainly because of increased censorship of adult websites (which is a current global conservative trend—I’m looking at you Project 2025—so don’t hate on Thailand too much), Thailand dropped to the third-lowest tier of internet freedom, according to the company Comparitech (which focuses on cybersecurity and online privacy), only above North Korea, China, and Iran. Both content creators and consumers can have some harsh punishments under the laws. With that in mind, it’s hard to imagine Jojo’s team giving us Boston’s pornographic art and Nick’s digital pornographic consumption as mere character dressing. The fact that they are the two excluded from the friend group at the end, excluded from the local business, from acceptance! Meanwhile, having censored the “deviant” contingent out of the equation, romance is alive and well at the OnlyFans—I mean, Only Friends hostel. As one kind of gay content is uplifted, another is suppressed and banished. No, Boston and the pornography industry he seems to signify are not perfect, but neither are his friends, nor the entertainments and political-economies with which they’re equated. 

Without too much moralizing, these are the sorts of observations and hypocrisies Only Friends highlights. In my reading, at least, it depicts these media and economic trends through its characters, allowing them to play out and contend with one another as they have in reality. Sometimes the allegorical tensions or pairing of genres and capital occurs in the dynamics between characters. Other times, as I pointed out with Boston and his Thaskin connection, the tension exists within a single character. These strategies allow the show to engage with political issues while under the government’s censorship laws, but this is also just what great literary political writing looks like! It speaks to its time, but it will stand much longer as simply a character-driven story about the contentions that arise between money, sex, love, and friendship. I cannot wait for Girl Rules to give us Jojo’s GL perspective on related issues and for Only Friends Dream On to explore this territory in the context of an actual BL production! Let the chaotic theorizing ensue!

[lostworldss]

Blades 3 Crack Theory

Hear me out.

In Book 2 during one of Nia’s romance scenes, she mentions praying to Ellara, Nifara, and the Mother of Grey for MC to come back.

Now we saw the Mother of Grey/Ash Empress in Book 2, and we learned all the lore about her, Nifara, and the rest of the old gods. Nifara is likely to be the big enemy for Book 3.

But how much do we know about Ellara?

I am going to preface this by saying that I’m not good at remembering all the lore/history from the lore tablets or whichever, so please correct me if i’m wrong with any of this.

But I don’t remember learning much about Ellara specifically. With Nia’s context here, I thought to believe that Ellara was a deity. Perhaps a New God since the lore tablets spoke of all the Old Gods and she wasn’t included.

After checking Book 2 chapter 8, I verified that Ellara is in fact a New God.

This makes sense, considering that Nia prays to her and she has the Temple near Riverbend named after her that we explored.

Also, in the first chapter of the series, in the very beginning scene showing the battle against the Dreadlord thousands of years ago, we see a character named Ellara speaking with Xaius (Elven king/Other New God). Not much information is given about her in the scene, except for her seemingly being in a romantic relationship with Xaius. According the the choices wiki, she is a battle mage and Xaius second in command.

I’m not sure when exactly Ellara and Xaius became New Gods, was it before or after this battle? I’m not sure if they mentioned it before in Book 1. But either way, we can assume this character is The Ellara.

I’m really hoping Book 3 goes into the lore of the New Gods more, especially after learning about the Old Gods previously. Maybe the New Gods can assist us in fighting Nifara.

But back to the actual theory part. For a brief second, lets pivot to something else.

Who is the only character in the party whose family lineage/parents are unknown? (Kade could technically count maybe, but not him).

Who’s familial background is a complete shot in the dark?

Not MC, they have memories of their parents before the raid on their hometown. They were also given different deeper backgrounds based on their race in Book 2.

It’s Nia. She was adopted by the Church of Light as an infant, and she never knew anything about her actual family.

Now, maybe it’s just a funny coincidence, but does anyone else find it a bit interesting that her last name (Ellarious) sounds very similar to the name Ellara? Hmm.

But perhaps it’s a just simply a coincidence.

We could also assume that Ellara is a mage of light magic, since we know that she was a mage that would presumably be using light magic to counter the shadow magic of the Dreadlord. And we know this was after Nifara already separated the world into Light and Shadow realms, so the elves at this time probably didn’t know about True magic. And if Ellara is a god, she must be really good at it.

Hmm. Is there anyone else we know who’s naturally attuned to magic, maybe light magic specifically?

And just one more thing. What does Ellara look like in that screenshot? What colors is she wearing? She seemed to be dressed in a lot of white and gold, and wearing jewelry. Red hair. Hmm.

If you haven’t guessed my theory that I’m hinting at, here it is:

What if Nia Ellarious is a descendent of/related to Ellara???

And I’ll be honest I remember the name being similar thing being a thought in my mind before but I didn’t put any connection to it in my mind I was just like “oh they both kinda sound similar that’s cool.”

But let me enlighten you on on more thing. The suffix “-ious” in the english language means “having/characterized by/to have characteristics of.”

Nia’s last name literally means “to have the characteristics of Ellara.”

ITS BEEN STARING US IN THE FACE THIS ENTIRE TIME.

Also worth pointing out that when we first met Nia in book 1 chapter 1, where were Scholar Vash and her heading to? The Temple of ELLARA

Like you can’t tell me All of this is a coincidence (it probably is).

[monsivaisstuff]

RED AND BLUE HARMONY

PUNCH DRUNK LOVE/THE BEAR

A few days ago I saw Punch Drunk Love, a romantic comedy with Adam Sandler and Emily Watson, in the film the protagonists wear the colors red and blue, red is used for Lena and blue for Barry, both colors tell us about their personalities. Red is Lena, she has a more extroverted and lively personality. Let's also remember that red symbolizes love, fire and passion. While Barry is a melancholic, lonely, and introverted character, blue is the right choice to represent this character.

At the beginning of the film Barry wears a completely blue suit, tie and shirt, but as the romance with Lena progresses, the tie changes color, passing through yellow and purple, until reaching red, in the same way we see how Lena includes blue and white in his wardrobe. These two colors are also used in background objects, and lighting.

The use of color as a narrative support for the plot reminded me of the metas that mention that Syd and Carmy are assigned the color red and blue respectively, and I suppose so, since both Carmy and Syd wear these colors throughout the show, so as in Punch Drunk Love, the colors appear in the settings and lighting, even the secondary characters wear them, however I think Carmy and Claire have only worn blue so far, although Calire does appear with red lipstick in one of the chapters.

Barry's evolution regarding the color of his wardrobe leaves me wondering if Carmy will ever include some red detail in her wardrobe as a symbol that reflects the importance of the relationship with Syd (or he already uses it and I didn't realize, or is it the scrunchie?).

Apart from the use of color, the film has more similarities with The Bear, starting with the protagonists, Barry is a character who suffers from anxiety, which becomes complicated every time his family appears on the scene, this anxiety at certain moments transforms into anger, Barry is considered “weird” by his family, which reminds me of Carmy and their family dynamic. On the other hand we have Lena, a more active character, we can see this since she takes the initiative in their relationship, she fakes a chance meeting with Barry, later it is revealed to us that she planned the meeting, since Barry's sister shows her a photo and she likes it, so she decides she wants to meet him, this reminded me of Syd and the special place lie theory in the first meeting she has with Carmy. Throughout the movie we see how Lena's actions advance the plot, just like Syd in The Bear, I think there are other similarities but I don't have time to write them anymore, however, I recommend this movie, it's very nice, the music, images, characters, in general everything, excellent service 10/10.

Finally, I leave this quote that I found while searching for information about Punch Drunk Love:

"This choice of a warm palette reflects the drive of life that the relationship with Lena represents for Barry. As he states, it is the force of love that leads him to protect himself and resolve his conflicts."

Scene from Punch Drunk Love

Scene from The Bear 2x03

Note: I recently also saw Past Lives, a romantic drama, and I was surprised, the protagonists also wear red and blue.