#ofts images

[ranchthoughts]

Mew dressed like Ray and Ray dressed like Sand

[cornflowershade]

Second string? Ray these kisses were NOT the same.

[khaopybara]

KHAOTUNG THANAWAT as PRETTY PRINCESS RAY

[mipexch]

extremely rare gen sona viewing experience

[taliskermortem]

so the top/mew sex scene? fascinating. they made so many choices regarding it and i'm honestly intrigued.

((this got way too long so i'm putting it under the cut))

the first thing i noticed was how their scene had almost no noise. it was dead quiet. and the lighting felt almost clinical.

now in comparison to some of the other sex scenes we've seen so far it was... pretty tame. which is fine. but we basically didn't see any of the 'sex'. we got the kissing. and we got the afterglow cuddles. and on top of that... there was no passion.

but let's start from the beginning.

'does this mean i passed your test?' a relationship shouldn't a test. and i think it says a lot about top that that is how he views it. its a challenge. a competition. maybe even a distraction. this has been his goal: get mew to have sex with him. and he's succeeded. but what happens now?

now in comparison to the first time, in episode 1 when they make out in mew's kitchen there are some noticable differences. firstly, their kiss is much more intense. now you can write this off as this kiss being sweet and romantic but... there is so much space between their bodies when they kiss. the only points of contact are their lips and top's hand on the back of mew's head.

then they undress themselves. not each other. top just strips and mew follows suit. the first time, top at least takes mew's shirt off for him. this time he barely touches mew. there's no romantically revealing each other. which is interesting because the first thing top says is: can you see me? can you see what top has revealed to mew. not what mew revealed himself. and mew is all of course i can because he really seems to think he does. but anyway. they're still not even touching.

and then

and THEN

i love you mew

like my dude where did that come from what a line you really just went in for the final kill didn't you. he's serving himself up to you already and you just had to make sure there was nothing left.

and then they are in their boxers kissing. and there is still so much SPACE.

and then top puts mew down on the sofa. now i'm not being funny but there is literally a perfectly functioning massive bed RIGHT THERE. but whatever. who wants comfort? who wants space? who doesnt want to accidentally fall onto the floor? i digress.

they're touching now. finally. but mew is just kind of lying there whilst top does the touching. which, sure, shy virgin. i'll let it slide. hands still above the waist. boxers still on-

afterglow cuddles.

...

that's literally it.

bearing in mind we have seen boston bouncing on this guy's dick.

bearing in mind this is pratically the premise of the show. this is the set up from the very first episode. this is what mew and top have been building up to ever since they met.

and that's it.

anticlimatic.

which... huh, maybe that's the whole point.

this was supposed to be anticlimatic for us because it was for them. because they had both been building up and building up to this and maybe it didn't quite live up to the ideals they both had in their heads.

or maybe its anticlimatic because there's no real feeling. all the other pairings have given us emotions. even if it's one sided pining. even if there's no romantic feels yet, you can feel the potential. you can feel the desire. mew and top's scene was the least passionate of any of the sex scenes. and you could write it off as being sweet and romantic rather than horny. but i don't buy that. i don't feel that.

maybe this is how it always is for top. maybe this was exactly what mew was expecting because he seemed pretty content afterwards, with his i love you and that saccharine smile of his. maybe he doesn't know any better. maybe neither of them do.

but when juxtaposed with the sand and ray scene that follows straight afterwards... those two just have to look at each other and you know they want each other. they kiss and they're both grabbing for each other. sand moves his whole body to be closer. and they're both still fully dressed but i'll be damned if there isn't more feeling packed into that one kiss than into the whole of top and mew's scene.

i just find it interesting that something that was so pivotal to the story. to the characters. was so utterly bland.

and i think it's a very important message to be honest - you can't force romance. you can play by the whole book, follow all the right steps, say all the right lines... but you can't put feelings in where there are none. you can't make passion and love from a prewritten recipe. life is messy. and love is messy. and sex is messy. and trying to keep it neat and ordered and clean, like mew does, just doesn't work.

[clowncyte]

lalala

[ultrasopp]

powerduo with matching statement shirts

[ID: Nile and Joe with crossed arms looking to the right. Nile’s shirt says “girl fag” and Joe’s says “boy dyke”.]

[chiropteracupola]

Show me how these things are done...?

[heynhay]

ok sorry

[muirneach]

i’ve connected the dots

[the-sky-the-stars-the-sea]

Firstkhao really do be giving us some good meme templates these past few days

First image - Gen S

Second and third images: Only Friends ep 12

(Would love reblogs with your memes if you use any of these as meme templates)

[ranchthoughts]

Ray: "I only drink when I'm stressed. You wouldn't understand."

Sand: *holds down multiple jobs trying to make ends meet, trying to pay back his mom's debt, is also a student*

Ray: "Like, look at my father. He's always fussing over me."

Sand: *doesn't have a father, takes care of his mother more than she takes care of him*

[shipping1addict]

Männer, wie sie sich über Neueinstellungen von Frauen in Führungspositionen aufregen und plötzlich blind herumrennen, wenn man die Freundalwirtschaft unter männlichen Kollegen anspricht:

[icewindandboringhorror]

*screenshots the highlights of my youtube to mp3 downloads folder as if it were some fancy aesthetic spotify wrapped image or whatever* 

[noxtivagus]

hmmm this uh. vent in tags doesn't pertain to anyone here though okay, it's really just a Me problem bcs i rlly appreciate you all so much but i can't help but be like this :<< (working on it though)

[iceunhie]

fragility — sunday.

summary: disagreements may often occur with sunday, but the two of you seem to always find a way to resolve it. (or, in which sunday is a little too devoted; lucky for you, you'd never have it any other way.)

notes: sunday character study, reader and sunday are arranged to be married/betrothed; not canon compliant, sunday might be ooc and i do not apologize he must be down bad 💯 reblogs are appreciated ! would love for u to tell me what you think about this experimental fic hehe

Sunday has always been the picture perfect image of control.

It is in the way his suit never has a single wrinkle, save for those he intentionally keeps to exude a more tolerable presence to The Family—and even then, he has always smoothed out every crinkle, every flaw; whenever they wouldn't look. It is seen in the way Sunday fights to calm his voice after a particular burst of his emotions, the way he almost obsessively tends to his plans to make sure nothing shall go awry.

If Sunday is a lone bird flying in the sky, then his control over himself, his conduct of his emotions is the chain that binds him to the earth below. Grounding him oft when he himself cannot.

If his sister is akin to a bird that spreads her wings to freedom, then Sunday shall clip his own, chain them down onto the earth if only to protect himself.

“Six gatherings.”

“Eight.”

However, there are often exceptions to his near flawless aspect of self-control; situations in which back him up into a corner, unable to retort.

“Seven gatherings and no more.” Like now, when you were being—for a lack of a better term—an extreme pain in the neck. Sunday exhales a weary breath.

“You can't be serious.” You frown at him. “Surely they'll be satisfied with six? They don't even care!”

“It would be best if we were to leave no possibility unaccounted for.”

“Sunday, you cannot subject me to any worse horrors other than prancing around being buddy buddy with those two-faced fogeys!”

He snorts at the barb. Trust that you use your rather extensive lexicon to state your mind in the most absurd of ways, most especially in the rather glitzy and pompous Family gatherings you both are required (read: forced) to apply yourselves to. Sunday should really ought to put in a word about it to you.

(He does not, however, tell you that your opinion is wrong.)

“I assure you that you will live. Acting like I'm sending you to your death is an immense exaggeration.”

Sunday drowns your complaints and listens to it with one ear. He knows, and trusts that you would relent anyway, so there was no reason in arguing over it any further.

Because, despite the innumerable ways in which your very existence rattles his, turning his carefully constructed world upside down in jeopardy, Sunday cannot stray away from anything you request.

(it would be blasphemy to do so. a sin he would never dare to oppose. you had that effect on him.)

You lounge leisurely at his personal quarters as though it belonged to you (it would, Sunday corrects himself, it will) and meet his eyes, liquid gold taking your existence in its entirety, as though it would be ripped away from him in an instant. He sees your eyes soften, just for a bit.

You put your fisted hand onto your cheek, squishing it slightly as you sulk. Sunday thinks he's finally gone mad when he considers running his fingers through them. (Would it be as soft as he had dreamed?)

Even with your face scrunched in a grimace, you are as radiant as gems and jade; your emotions splayed out before him like a clear spring reflecting the bright sky. (You are a reflection of the freedom he longs to embrace.) As wonderful as everything that Sunday is not.

Sunday knows your distaste is rooted in your aversion to the feigned lies and the prospect of sugarcoating your relationship as one of duty and not true affection (despite it being the complete opposite, he likes to assume) and being put on a pedestal by others.

But compliance is his owner, and Sunday is its dutiful servant.

“I know you're less than inclined-” Sunday starts to say, emphasizing the less. “-but now, with the Charmony Festival within full preparation, they want to see us there. United, as-”

“-As a happy pair.” you finish the thought with a rueful smile. “Something to calm them down while everything is in shambles. How characteristic of them.”

He nods. Meeting your gaze has always made him weak-willed. Sunday thinks that you could bring him down to his knees in reverence if you wish; he would not mind. “I know it goes against your principles.”

Because you believed in truth, that the chaos that Sunday abhors has a beauty to it he cannot understand; that you were a delightful paradox Sunday doesn't want the ugly claws of his control to grasp onto.

(He does not deserve you.)

“While I would gladly endure any gathering if it's with you…” you start, and his heart makes that familiar leap, like wings flapping in his stomach. “I don't want to keep up appearances to those who only see through the surface.”

“Then you shouldn't.” Sunday takes time to stand and stay seated next to you, if only to feel the actuality of you at whole. “You know better than anyone what we are.”

After all, Sunday sees no use in looking at the gazes of others when you are always at the forefront of his mind.

“...I know.” Sunday stiffens when you lean your head on his shoulder, your head brushing by the wing below his ear. He shudders. “I’m aware. More than anyone else.”

Your voice flutters in the wind like a bird soaring through the sky, and you illuminate his world in a stream of color. This is the most he gets to an ardent declaration of love, and Sunday would be damned if he would not reciprocate in any way.

(He does not deserve you, but you make it a point to disagree otherwise, every time.)

“I’ll be by your side at every step.” Sunday says, lacing his gloved hands in yours as a promise. “You need only be by my side.”

In the present, and even in the future, Sunday hopes. Your gentle squeeze of his hand is the content of your answer.

“I can't really say no to you, can I?”

Sunday chuckles. “I should say the same.”

If his mind is bound to seek control, then his soul is bound to seek your warmth. Sunday thinks this is as it should be. As he hopes will always be.

You laugh. “Eight gatherings it is. Though I suppose in the future it would be even more than that.”

“Mm. We shall hope it to be so.”

“Oh, it definitely will.”

All by his side, where his heart shall whisper your name and where your soul shall be forever intertwined with his.

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

writing process for this was vv inspired by a tiktok audio that i can't remember the name from but it encapsulated sunday so perfectly my keyboard started typing lol