#a3! one shot

[kingyo-konbini]

hello hello, this is my first time requesting on your blog so i’m sorry if i make any mistakes with my request !! but can i please have a drabble of any of these men: shinsou hitoshi, daichi sawamura, koushi sugawara or yu nishinoya comforting a pretty stressed out female s/o? she’s been working and studying that she doesn��t have much time for herself, thank you so much!

TAKE CARE [SUGAWARA KOUSHI X READER]

[SUMMARY] sugawara helps you destress [PRONOUNS] she/her [GENRE] fluff [POV] second person [WORD COUNT] 964 [CONTENT] sugawara being the best bf [A/N] THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST you have no idea how much it means to me (*´ω｀*) AND I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ;-; I hope you enjoy!!

“I think I’m dying.”

“I also think you’re dying.”

You tossed an unimpressed look his way, pouting at the teasing grin on his lips.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

Sugawara chuckled and closed the textbook in front of him, shuffling a bit so he was facing you instead of the table. “It’s true. Listen, I’m all for studying, but you’ve been working yourself too hard.”

“Have not.” You huffed, turning away from him to focus on the textbook before you. “Exams are coming up and I need to do well on them.”

“And you will.” Sugawara’s voice was certain, as were his movements as he placed a hand over the page you were reading before gently tugging it away from your grasp. “You’ve been spending all your time either studying or working. When was the last time you had a proper meal?” 

You let out a heavy and reluctant sigh, watching as your boyfriend slipped a spare sheet of paper into the textbook to mark your place before closing it.

“When was the last time we went out to eat?”

This time it was his turn to sigh, and his teasing smile turned sympathetic as he gazed at you. “[Name], listen to me. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine, I need to study-”

“If you don’t ace these exams, then no one will. You’ve been going nonstop for weeks.”

You avoided his eyes. “I’m fine, I promise!”

Sugawara let out another sigh and from the corner of your eye you watched him shake his head. “Well, if you won’t take care of yourself, then I guess I will.”

“Huh?”

Before you had time to question his statement further, Sugawara had gotten to his feet and was tugging you up to do the same, quickly placing his hands on your shoulders and spinning you away from the table you’d been sitting at for hours. “You are incredibly stubborn, you know that?”

“Am not.”

Sugawara laughed at that and grinned before shoving you out of the kitchen and towards the couch. “You may act like and say that you’re fine, but I can feel the tension in your shoulders. You need to de-stress.”

“Do not.”

“And luckily for you, I know the perfect way to do that!”

You yelped as he shoved you (rather unceremoniously) onto the couch. He grinned proudly from his stance above you as you wiggled around in a subconscious attempt to get comfortable, settling his hands on his hips in triumph at your defeat.

“Now you just lay there and look pretty and I’m going to be right back. Don’t you dare get up from that spot– I’ll know.”

“Koushi, what are you-”

“Put something on TV or pull up a game; my Switch should still be connected.” He grabbed the remotes and shoved them into your hands before leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Remember: no moving from this spot.”

“You’re a menace, you know that?”

“Be back soon!” He said with a laugh, prancing out the door before you had another chance to argue.

Resigned to your fate, and appreciating the softness of the couch on your aching back (hunching over while reading was probably not the best idea), you snuggled further into the cushions and turned on the television, your eyes drifting closed after only a couple of minutes.

...

The sound of rustling plastic woke you from your spontaneous nap.

“Koushi?” You mumbled, sleep thick in your throat and slurring your speech. You rose into a sitting position and rubbed at your eyes, trying to rid them of their blurriness.

Once you were able to fully comprehend your surroundings, you spotted your partner crouching down by the kotatsu and looking rather sheepish with his hands in one of the many plastic shopping bags that littered the surface.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You’re cute when you sleep, you know?”

“You always say that.” You grumbled, stifling a yawn. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Seems like all of my sneakiness was spent on that feat.” He chuckled, pulling a box of takeout from the bag. His nose was still red from the time he’d spent outside, and if you focused you could feel the chill from the winter winds radiating off of him.

“What’d you get?” You swung your legs over the edge of the couch, sliding to the floor to waddle closer to the kotatsu and slip your legs under the cover. 

“Your favorites. Thought it’d be a nice surprise and reward for all of your hard work.” Sugawara beamed, continuing to reveal box after box until there was a pile of discarded plastic bags on the floor and the surface before you was overflowing with your favorite foods and drink. “And a chance for you to actually eat something and take a break.” 

Your heart swelled. “Thank you.” You smile, almost shyly, at him. “You’re too sweet.”

“Nah.” Sugawara dismissed your claim, handing you a pair of chopsticks he seemed to pull out of the ether. “I’d say I’m the perfect amount of sweetness.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter from escaping your lips, Sugawara slipping under the kotatsu as well and bumping his legs against yours in a playful manner. 

“Besides, you’d do the same for me.” He shrugged, opening the box closest to him. “Not that you’d ever have to, of course, because I’m able to properly balance my work, studies, and self-care… unlike some people.” You kicked him. “Ow.”

“Shut up.” You stuck your tongue out at him, before following his movements and opening a few of the boxes before you.

“Thank you for the meal.” You both said in unison, and with another heartfelt smile sent his way, you began to eat.

[everwisp]

juza & nanami modeling for the fashion students during the university campus festival 📸✨

[ref: 1, 2]

[amourane]

falling for you

pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

genre: fluff, college au

w/c: 2.6k

summary: in which soonyoung struggles to ask you out on a date.

warnings: none!

a/n: if you saw the first post u didn't cuz tumblr made a mess of it and now i gotta repost it TT

"Jihoon!" A voice hissed from behind him. "Jihoon, here! Behind you!" He spun around to face...a bush. 

"When did plants learn how to talk?"

"It's me you idiot!" A hand shot out grabbing Jihoon's arm, pulling him into the bush. Soonyoung had twigs, leaves and something that looked like a ladybug but no one could ever be so sure. He was fiddling with the hem of his sweater, his cheeks bright red. “I just saw Y/n!” 

“So?” Soonyoung’s eyes bulged incredulously like Jihoon was supposed to know why his best friend looked like he had been living in the wild for a week. 

“Jihoon, you don’t just reply with ‘so’ and make it some question. You should know this!” Soonyoung shook his friend by his shoulders, squishing his cheeks painfully. “Obviously it’s because I saw her walk by and obviously I went up to talk to her but obviously I fell. I don’t even know how I fell and I was going to stand back up and continue to talk to her but she was already gone. And I have this huge stain.” He pointed to the brownish green patch on his white cotton sweater. “Everything’s just a mess!”

“Okay first of all, calm down Shakespeare.” Jihoon rolled his eyes, picking his best friend up. He tugged the sweater over Soonyoung’s head. “You could’ve just taken this off, you’ve got a shirt underneath anyway. And it’s been a week and you still haven’t asked her out?”

“Well, it’s hard alright.” Soonyoung nibbled his bottom lip. “Also Mingyu’s always around her and I can never seem to get her alone.”

“Now you’re just making excuses.”

Jihoon knew his best friend. He knew Soonyoung. If Soonyoung wanted something he’d probably fight the world for it. He remembered that one time he’d been so desperate to win Mario Kart against Jihoon that he’d dumped his water all over him. Jihoon was positively fuming, not because he’d lost but because Soonyoung had gotten his favourite shirt wet. 

Needless to say, Kwon Soonyoung would eat avocados for the rest of his life if it meant he’d get to ask you out. That was why it was weird that the guy who could probably fight zombies single handedly in an apocalypse couldn’t ask a cute girl out. 

“Hey what’s this?” Jihoon reached for the piece of paper hanging out of Soonyoung’s pocket. The boy flushed red, trying to grab the paper back from Jihoon. When he realised it was no use he slumped back a pout evident on his face. 

“You’re not allowed to judge me-”

“You really are a dork.” Jihoon snorted, examining the A3 piece of paper with ‘ASKING Y/N OUT’ scrawled on the top in big black marker. The page was filled with annotations and little diagrams that were all coloured in neatly. All the possibilities were drafted out, some more silly than others. “You were thinking of taking her to NASA?!” 

Soonyoung’s ears burned. He squirmed. “I mean it’s always a possibility but I think that would kind of ruin me.”

Jihoon watched as his best friend avoided his gaze, fingers anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smiled. He’d never seen Soonyoung this nervous to ask a girl out. It was oddly endearing. He continued to scan the paper, a little shocked that Soonyoung had put so much effort into this plan. 

So this was definitely not a little crush. 

//

“Okay listen.” Jihoon grabbed Soonyoung’s shoulders. They were currently outside the classroom you were in. He had devised this plan perfectly so that Soonyoung would actually ask you out without embarrassing himself. “Y/n’s going to come out here in approximately five minutes. You’re going to walk up to her and say ‘are you free this Saturday?’ and then she’ll say yes and then BAM instant date!” He clapped his hands together for exaggerated effect. 

“Jihoon, where are my flowers? And I can't be wearing this!” Soonyoung grabbed his black hoodie. “I can’t ask Y/n out like this. We need a suit and I need roses and some type of confectionery to win her over!”

Jihoon blinked like an owl. C-Confectionary?! Who the hell speaks like that anymore? Clearly Soonyoung had been watching too many romance movies. “You don’t need flowers or some fancy clothes to win Y/n over. You just need you, she likes you, not some dolled up Barbie.”

“It’s actually Ken who’s the main male-”

“Oh look here she comes.” He pushed Soonyoung hard. The poor boy stumbled clumsily, promptly bashing into you. He had to stop doing that. “Go get her!” Was all Soonyoung heard before he felt his soul die. 

You held Soonyoung steady. A small giggle left your lips. He blushed. You were even cuter today. Which was normally impossible but you were obviously special. The sweet smile you gave him nearly had him fainting. 

What was it Jihoon had said again? Oh yes, ask you out. He could do this.

“Did you need something Soonyoung?” 

Your voice was gentle and soft like a marshmallow. He could feel himself melting just at your words. Nope can’t do this. Soonyoung nearly spun around but when he caught sight of Jihoon’s deadly glare he retreated. Jihoon wasn’t someone you wanted to get angry. Guess he was going to have to do this.

“I...um…” He waved his arms around pathetically. It didn’t help that you were looking at him so innocently. “T-This Saturday you free...?” Soonyoung wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks burn bright red and he coughs. Not only did he completely butcher the English language but his voice cracked. Cracked! 

“I’m free this Saturday.” You grinned, eyes twinkling. Soonyoung felt his heart flutter. “I’ll text you okay?” You tucked a piece of paper into his hand before waving at him as you caught up to Mingyu. He watched as the two of you talked, you bursting into a fit of giggles, blushing.

The whole situation had happened so quickly it had made his head spin. A loud smack on his back brought Soonyoung back to reality. Jihoon stood behind him with a proud grin on his face. 

“Now we’ve just got to get you through this date.”

//

Soonyoung checked his watch for what felt like the upteenth time. It read, 11:13. He had said to meet him at 11 o’clock but maybe he was just early. Maybe you were stuck in traffic or something. He had spent about half an hour picking his outfit, with help from Jihoon of course because he could never decide on anything. 

It did look a little pathetic. Soonyoung sighed. Did you stand him up? You wouldn’t be that mean, would you?

“Soonyoung!” You were panting behind him, looking as if you had just run a marathon. Your chest heaved. “I'm so sorry. I lost track of time and everything kind of just went haywire-”

“I-It’s okay.” Soonyoung squeaked, wringing his hands. His eyes tried not to drift towards your chest. You were wearing a bright yellow sundress that hugged your body, little flowers dotted all over. The thin straps on your shoulders were tied in little bows at the top. He swallowed. 

“You’re not upset?” Your eyes were wide. The familiar scent of your jasmine perfume wafted to Soonyoung's nose and he shook his head. He could never be upset with you, that’d be ridiculous. You smiled. “Well, where are we heading?” 

He gave you a small grin. To say that Soonyoung has connections with people was an understatement. He had connections with everyone. That sounded a bit weird but everyone knew Soonyoung. It wasn’t like the town was small or anything, he was just known by everyone. Even the grumpy old lady that sold newspapers knew him.

Now normally he would have a plan for this, it was all written down. Sadly, Jihoon had ripped it up and threw it in the bin. Apparently having a plan was lame. Totally untrue, it was great to be prepared. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

//

“Oh my god!” You nearly tumbled to the ground at your shock. “How did you even manage to get in here? Isn’t this the Hong’s?” 

In front of you were rows beyond rows of strawberry bushes. The field seemed to stretch on forever. There was only one family in town that owned so many acres of land, the Hongs. You’d met their son, Joshua Hong, a couple of times at campus but everyone knew their strawberry fields were off limits. 

“My mum’s friends with Mrs Hong, used to go over to hers every week with apple pie. Me and Shua were friends for a while but then he got caught up in music and me, dancing. We still talk and I was lucky enough to get us in.” Soonyoung shrugs. “And it’s strawberry picking season.”

“Most boys would bring their date out to a fancy restaurant.” You picked a strawberry, popping into your mouth, savouring the sweet taste. “I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this.”

Soonyoung tried not to smile too wide. He couldn't contain his excitement. At first he wanted to take you to a lot of places in one day but Jihoon had said it was impossible to take you to the cinema, zoo, aquarium, ice cream shop and laser tag in 24 hours. So he settled on strawberries. Everyone loved strawberries, plus it was free because he knew Joshua. 

You slowly intertwined both of your fingers, holding his hand. Soonyoung felt his cheeks flare an embarrassing red as his eyes trailed down to both of your clasped hands. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. There wasn’t a lot he could do but try not to faint. 

A small smirk crept up on his lips as he handed you a basket. “We’ll make a deal.” 

“A deal?” You looked at him confused, taking the basket. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s say, whoever picks the most strawberries decides where we’re having lunch and they pay as well.”

“Chivalry really is dead.” You rolled your eyes. If Kwon Soonyoung wanted to bet that he would pick more strawberries than you, then he best be prepared for war. You contemplated the thought. If you were to win you’d probably empty his pockets but if he won he would empty your pockets. It’s a 50/50 chance. 

You must have stayed silent for a tad too long because Soonyoung grew worried. 

“W-We don’t have to if you don't want to-” 

“Fine. No rules, just as many as we can pick.” You shook his hand, a playful grin on your face. “Be prepared to lose Kwon.” You dashed away.

“Hey, you’re cheating!” 

“No rules remember!” 

Soonyoung stood still, mouth open like a goldfish. He finally snapped out of it, chasing after you, determined to win. There was no way he was going to let you beat him. 

Or maybe he will. 

//

Soonyoung grasped his basket tightly. It was already nearly full with ruby red strawberries. No doubt they were sweet and juicy. He hadn’t seen you since you left him and it was slightly worrying. Hopefully you were fine. Hopefully.

"Y/n?" He calls over the bushes. No reply. Soonyoung trudged forward, still looking for you. A twig snapped from behind him. "Y/n?" He spun around only to see you reaching a hand inside his basket plucking a strawberry and stuffing it into your mouth. 

"They're really yummy, I should thank Joshua when I see him." You giggled, turning to flee again but this time Soonyoung grabbed your hand. A small squeak escaped your lips. 

"Don't you dare run away." His tone was light and teasing. You shrieked when he popped one of your strawberries into his mouth. "No rules remember." He smirked, playfully flicking your forehead. You threw a strawberry at him which he dodged. You pelt another and another. One hits him and you stifle your laughs. 

Soonyoung pulled you forward and you shut up. He leaned forward, breath fanning your face. You instinctively fluttered your eyes shut. 

"I'll see you later." He whispered, causing you to snap open your eyes, mouth dropping to the ground. You watched dumbfounded as he ran away. What happened to the shy Soonyoung?

//

“I only lost because you ate all of mine.” You pouted, folding your arms defiantly. It wasn’t your fault that he was so devastatingly cute that you just had to offer him some of your strawberries. He stole them from you, even if he insisted that you gave them willingly. 

“You’re in denial Y/n.” Soonyoung skipped happily next to you, swinging his full basket. Your pout deepened. “Now where’s the most expensive place to have lunch?” He pulled his phone out, tapping a few times before a smug grin took over his face.

“You’re going to empty my pockets.” You whined. 

Soonyoung grinned. “Come on we’ve got to catch the train otherwise we’ll be late. I’ll pay for the tickets.” A small smile flitted across your face before it reverted back into a pout. You huffed, letting Soonyoung clasped your hand as the two of you walked away. “If it makes you feel any better, you can have my strawberries.”

“I just wanna know what was with the personality change back then?”

His cheeks flushed bright red. “I can be confident too…”

“Don’t doubt it. I’ve seen you dance.” The look he gives you has you rolling your eyes. “You’re a totally different person when you’re in the studio.”

His cheeks flushed bright red again causing you to burst into a fit of giggles. 

//

“So what you’re saying is that the bill is too expensive and right now you’re hiding in the bathroom and, might I remind you, you left poor Soonyoung to fend for himself.” Mingyu said through the phone.

“It sounds worse when you say it aloud.”

“You can’t just ditch him Y/n, what are you going to do, climb out a window and escape?” He hissed. You stared at the tiny window at the back. If you did it right you could squeeze through. “If you’re thinking about climbing out of a window I will stop feeding you my brownies.”

“Hey hey hey. No need to deprive my need for brownies Gyu, have some respect.” He snorted, muttering under his breath. “I can still hear what you’re saying.” 

“Good.”

Okay maybe running inside the bathroom and hiding in a stall wasn’t going to solve all of our problems. But the bill was hefty and you would probably land yourself in prison if you did manage to pay for it. Also you couldn’t climb out of the window because you really did need those brownies. 

“I want you to go out there and say you can’t pay for it and ask Soonyoung to pay for it.”

“Gyu are you crazy?”

“You’re the one in a bathroom stall, not me.” And with that he hung up leaving you alone. You could do this. It was not that hard, not that hard.  

Soonyoung was still sitting at the table where you left him but this time all the plates had been cleared and he was staring at his phone. He looked up and smiled. “Thought you were gonna do something illegal. Don’t worry, I paid for everything.”

“D-Did you rob a bank before we came here?” Your mouth was hanging open. That was the only option, unless he really did have enough money but everyone your age was practically broke so…

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “You didn’t actually think I was going to let you pay for all of that? You’re cute.” 

You were left gaping as he took your hand. What just happened? He said your line, your line. You were meant to call him cute. Soonyoung seemed to sense how confused you were because he shot you a dazzling smile.

“Told you I can be confident.”

[cyren-myadd]

Look at how happy Spider is in this BTS shot for A3! I bet he's flying on an ikran with Kiri :)

Analysis of the image:

He's now wearing a Metkayina style loincloth, he has a tooth necklace like the one Rotxo wears instead of the Omaticaya choker, and he has a new exopack strap to replace the standard issue RDA one he wore while with Quaritch. It looks like he's been living with the reef people for a little bit and they've given him Metkayina clothing. The person connected to the ikran behind him could be literally anybody, it's impossible to tell without the CGI, but the fake Na'vi leg doesn't look that much bigger than Spider's leg so I would guess it's one of the teens, probably Kiri or possibly Lo'ak. I also notice that Spider's leg has a bloody scratch so I wonder if he just came from an action scene. He also still has a mark from when Neytiri cut him, so it looks like it's a permanent scar, he's always going to have a physical reminder of that night now :( it's a family curse at this point, OG-Quaritch had a face scar, Spider's got a chest scar, and recom-Quaritch is emotionally scared from Neytiri's arrows lol.

If I had to guess, I think this shot must be early on in Avatar 3, because he doesn't have the topknot hairstyle, V-shape painted on his forehead, or the Metkayina harness he's shown wearing in his official character poster (the character poster is pretty obviously a shot from A3, because he never looked like this in A2). He IS shown with the same tooth necklace he has in his character poster, so I think this could be the beginning of him getting accepted by the Metkayina clan and upgrading his outfit. I can't wait to see it in 2025!

[windydrawallday]

Roll a DICE to the RESCUE!

My (first) double-page contribution to @turbofox-zines 's TF Fanzine/Art Anthology: the RBA Zine, in all its glory!

Well, here is upscaled thrice so, I suggest everyone check the full monster of a piece by [Downloading it here] the whole booklet because there's so much precious art and writing (we even got a special guest story!) that deserves the support.

This illustration is extra special to me because it marks my first time working on a double page instead of my usual one-page piece. It's the first time I let my Graphic Designer knowledge take credit for the lettering, text, and graphic components to make this a full-functional board game (it works beautifully printed in an A3!).

The admins even let me contribute with the little character graphics to decorate the zine pages, something I was delighted about ♥

Now, as always I'll share my art process under the cut because a lot was going out during the journey to make this piece look as professional as you see it now. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did, thank you to all for the support ✨

I confess: I never EVER before illustrated a whole map in this art style x'D So I was glad this show already had shots from different perspectives of its setting. Still, not every place was visually consistent so this map is more of an approximation than a loyal representation of the canon.

I think the hardest part is to make something that looks good both with an without the board game path.

... I confess too that even if I'm obsessed to make things follow a certain logic, I struggled a ton with the perspective 💥

YEAH, IT MADE ME USE BLOCKS TO UNDERSTAND IT AAA

It was worth the effort: look at how it works printed! And this is without an illustration-suited paper.

OH! Before I go: this too marks my first time drawing the vehicle mode for TFs... THE TINNIEST VEHICLES EVER, you can download their respective files on the Merch Part of the Zine too!

They are so bite-sized, luff them!!!

[97keanu]

"ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵐⁱˡˡⁱᵒⁿ

ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢʰⁱⁿᵉ"

Mob Boss!John Wick x Mob Wife!Reader

Premise: It's the early 2000s, New York City. You're 27 years old, your husband, John Wick, is the head of the Slavic crime syndicate in New York. Your father married you off to him 6 years ago, to end a feud between your families. You have been John's wife for so long, but still feel like you barely know how he feels about you. He's quiet, comes home bloody and bruised, tries to keep you out of the business even though this life is all you've ever known. Will John reveal his true feelings for you when a rival family kidnaps you and holds you for ransom?

Tags/CW: stoic and suave!john, possessive!john, predator coded!john, prey coded!reader, kidnapping in, drug use, canon violence for john wick series as well as the sopranos, smut, more tags to come in later chapters.

A/N: This is going to be a 3 part limited series, but I would love to write drabbles/imagines/one-shots for these two in the future! This chapter is mainly an intro to you and John's relationship and some shameless smut, more drama in the next chapter!

Words: 3k

Gold. Your favorite color as a child, the same color as your daddy's pinky ring, you can remember peeking at it over the old wooden poker table. Your daddy laughed along with all the other men in the room, like a language you couldn't understand, the cigar smoke bitter, but sweet like vanilla if you inhaled enough. You can see all sorts of shiny objects on the poker table. You spot a silver glinting metal of a few of the men's guns politely placed on the table. The liquor they're drinking is glinting in crystal glasses, sloshing around as the men get rowdier and more incoherent. Your eyes always come back to that ring, however. Embellishments of diamond inlaid into that honey colored metal. The only thing you liked better than the glint of gold was the flash of a diamond. And daddy's ring held both. You knew even then, no more than 6 or 7 years old, that that ring would be yours one day.  You were right.  Your husband John, gave it to you as an anniversary gift last year after killing the men who killed your father. It's big enough on you to fit on your ring or middle finger. Your dear old dad was a lot of things, most not things that you loved. The only other thing he gave you in life that you were truly grateful for was arranging a truce between feuding families and setting you up to marry John.  You had no idea who this man was, not to mention he was 20 years older than you, and was the head of New York City's Slavic crime syndicate. Along with his family being a family that rivaled yours for so long, the idea of marrying this man, the man they call 'Baba Yaga', was frightening. He was harsh when you met him. You only talked 3 times before you saw him at the altar.  When you did meet him, he was well kept, incredibly so. His hair was dark, a bit long, slicked back perfectly. His face though, that was what really sent cold shivers up your spine. He looked like a wolf, his eyes were hungry for something, you couldn't even say what for sure, but you hoped your father wasn't shepherding you as a helpless sheep into John's pasture.

You were surprised when he took your hand softly, all the edges of his face jagged and sharp like a freshly cut jewel, and pressed his lips into your hand. It was from then on that you knew, despite everything else, that he would take care of you. There was something in his kiss and his steeled eyes that promised so from the get go. 

From the moment you kissed him at the altar, you knew there was something those lips were hiding, however. They were so soft, but somewhere in your mind you couldn’t help but taste blood, coppery, metallic on those perfect lips. He looked at you then, having only seen you three times before, like he was looking at something as precious as gold. You felt coveted. 

Despite this, as the honeymoon waned, and you two began to settle in as husband and wife, you thought perhaps, maybe this could work for you two. And it did, for all intents and purposes. Over the years, you two have fallen into a routine, not one you're displeased with per se. You know this is the life you were born into, being able to be a pristine trophy inside John's luxurious apartment never bothered you. He treated you well, always kept your needs met. But he was cold, distant, especially about work. You know the business, you've known it your whole life so you have no idea why he feels the need to keep you so in the dark most of the time. He barely speaks when he comes home bloodied up, weak, ready to collapse into the couch and sleep off the night finally. You dutifully help clean his wounds, silent, but those piercing eyes of his look into yours, saying more than those lips ever did. 

Because of John's reluctance to allow you anywhere close to the business, you're surprised when he comes home one night and tells you that he'll be taking you to a party. 

"A party?" Your glossy lips utter, turning around to face John from your seat at the vanity as he enters the bedroom with the news. Quite frankly, after being married for six years and rarely leaving this apartment, you're shocked. "You never take me to parties?"

"It's important you come tonight." John says simple, stepping closer to you, and slowly beginning to take off his dark suit, going down to suspenders and a crisp white button up. He isn’t giving anything away just yet. 

"Finally decided to trade me in for someone newer?" You say, obviously joking even though you know it happens. These parties that men in the business go to, your father found six different wives at them after your mother, you know how women are treated in this world. You are seen as no more than a currency of status, and you know you’re not getting any younger. 

John, however, gets really serious. His head jerks towards you, and he has that wolf look in his eye again. He bores you down with his dark, almost black eyes, his jaw set. The fear you feel from that look is one you never wish to again. 

"Don't you ever joke about that." John finally says, but he doesn't soften. "I would never let anyone else have you."

If there's one thing you know for certain that John feels about you, it's possession. He always has been protective of you, to a fault most of the time. You feel as though he's set you in the world's most gilded cage most days, and at night he comes home and tears into your body like an animal. John was never soft. He wouldn't start to be in the bedroom. He would never push you away from cuddling after, however. He just didn't seek comfort from you the way you did him. But you were grateful he allowed you to have the comfort you craved from him, even if he was silent for most of it. If you were lucky, he may even pull an arm around you after a particularly aggressive fuck. 

Not to say either that you didn’t enjoy how he took you in the bedroom, taking everything from you but your blood. And you knew he could take that too if he pleased. The aggression, the rawness of his body against yours, you had to admit, it turned you on. He never made your feel like you were lesser in the bedroom, in fact, he could give just as much as he could take. There were many times he had you propped up on the pillows, spread for him, and he lapping at you with a fervor you could hardly stand. He would tease you relentlessly if you let him, if you didn’t grab that dark hair of his and pull him into your aching pussy while telling him what you need. Begging him for what you need. His black eyes would look up at you from where he supplied pleasures that made your head spin, as if to say ‘You see this? I give you this, do not forget that I can give you such pleasures.’

And Lord, did you know, that he could do just that. Even now, as you see him undressing for the night, you can feel yourself begin to ache with want. 

John can tell he has frightened you from how he has spoken, though. So he crosses what feels like the great expanse between you two, and he kneels in front of you, his hands on your thighs. 

“Listen, I need you to understand that you never have to worry. About anything, with me.” His eyes are not exactly soft, but they are trying, which counts for something. “These eyes are focused on one woman and one woman only, do not ever doubt that, my love.”

You couldn’t help but feel compelled to believe him. Not to mention it was one of the rare times that he told you, or at least implied, his love for you. You did find yourself questioning often what John’s idea of ‘love’ was, however. You aren’t so certain your vision of love matches his, but at least it seems as if he is true to you. You begin to feel foolish for the cracks of doubt that have been plaguing you lately, you have no reason to believe John would cheat on you other than that the other mob wives have to deal with it constantly from their spouses. John is different, you must remember that. 

You nod, a few tears coming to your eyes, and John’s large hands are there to wipe them away before you even have to wonder. 

“Do not cry, solnyshko.” He says, his voice gruff, but understanding. “I do not wish for you to be hurt.”

“I hurt from being locked away here for so long…” You don’t know why you feel brave enough to say it right now, but you do. John’s eyes suddenly look unusually pained, and he glances away, blinking as if to gather himself. 

“I know, I hope bringing you to this party will help. I just…” His hand on your cheek begins to tighten, not on you, but as if the muscles in it are desperate to grasp for something they know they must not. “I do not trust your safety for much of what I do, I…I cannot lose you.”

You don’t say anything, just look at him, on his knees for you right now, seemingly begging you to understand. It’s more than you’ve seen from him in the six years you’ve lived with him. It honestly causes a few more tears to fall, you’re not sure why seeing him this way does this to you. It means a lot to you. 

“Okay, John. I will go this party with you, glady.” You say, accepting the idea, and John seems relieved. 

“Good, now, no more tears,” He brushes the last few that have sullied your cheeks with his thumb. “Come, let’s go to bed my darling…” 

As he stands from where he knelt before you, his strong hands take your arms in them, pulling you off of the plush vanity stool, and into him. He smells like smoke and gunpowder, mixed with that expensive cologne he always wears, the one that smells like pine trees and reminds you of the woods. He gently, for once, takes you into the large, black silk bed. Once you’re settled, it’s like he is ready to make a feast of your body. He’s so primal, animalistic and ready to be drunk on your scent. You let him take you, his teeth already into your neck, leaving indents, leaving his mark on you. He goes slow this time, really lets you feel how much he wants you. It doesn’t take him long to completely undress you, his hands are swift, and they work quickly to fling the little you had on to the bedroom floor. 

You gasp when his hands decide to reach for your pussy next, and you hear him chuckle as he suckles on your breast, which are heavy with lust. 

“You’re already so wet for me, my dear…” He whispers into your skin, the biting and nibbling beginning again as soon as the words leave his lips.

His hands work like magic, starting with teasing your poor pussy. He doesn’t go for your clit right away, no, he works slowly, but deliberately around it, testing your want and your wetness. He continues to lower his bites along your body, going down further and further, saving your swelling clit for his tongue to savor. He spreads your legs roughly, your breath catching as you’re so suddenly exposed. You feel the cold air of the room against the heat between your legs, and watch as John looks over your body with nothing but pure hunger and satisfaction in his eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought he would look for someone else when he looks at you like this nearly every night. How foolish…

Before your thoughts can be taken by things that simple do not matter in this moment, John is plunging his tongue into your cunt, hungry to taste you, a low growl escaping his lips and vibrating the tender flesh there. You moan out, your legs trying to close, but a firm hand guiding your thigh back down to the bed, holding it there. You continue to squirm, your hands finally finding purchase in his tossled dark hair, and you feel as if you have found an anchor in the deepest depths of an angry sea, ready to consume you if you do not hold onto something. 

You breath hitches higher as he sucks on your hardening clit, pulling all of it to attention in his mouth and driving you mad. He continues to over stimulate you like this until you’re begging him, breathless and tossing your head back into the silk pillows, to stop, to let you go. Unfortunately, you are his prey, and he will have his way with you however he can, so while he releases your tender clit from his mouth for a moment, he is slipping two fingers inside you with a swiftness that causes you to see stars. You always forget how good he is at this, how could you ever underestimate his power to bring you to the edge like this?

John pumps his fingers inside you, working that spot that drives you crazy, and you can barely speak coherently. He loves making you such a mess for him, a wordless, breathless mess that tangles in John’s sheets. 

John allows you to get closer and closer like this, and just when you’re screaming out his name, finding some words that convey how close you are, how you’re so ready, does he slip his fingers out from inside of you. The whine you let out from this surprises you, even makes you blush from embarrassment. You can’t believe how badly he makes you want him.

John lifts himself to his knees, freeing his cock from his tight pants, and you’re always taken back from how long and girthy it is. You know you can take his cock, you have many times before, but you know how much it stretches you out anyways. Your stomach is in knots from how full you wish to be of him. John can see the hunger in your eyes and wastes no time, grabbing your thighs and pulling you close in one fell manuever. He lines himself up with you, then wets his cock with your juices so he can slide into you easily. He always makes sure not to rut into you dry, he wants you soaking for him at all times during this. 

John finally gives you what you want, your moan loud enough that you don’t doubt the neighbors know what this man does to you. His cock slips in so perfectly, going deeper and deeper, inch by inch, until he is at his limit inside you, your pussy completely full of him. You reach out to pull him close to you, but John stops you. 

“I want to see you touch yourself for me, darling. I need to see your face when you cum on my cock…” He is so instructional, so demanding. You know you have to give him what he wants. 

You stay laid on your back, while John keeps up on his knees, still so deep inside of you. You work your hand down to your clit, your other hand grasping at your own breast with desperation for something to hold onto. You can’t help it, you’re already losing yourself, your hands working and your moans giving a show for John. You know he loves when you really let yourself feel it, and you can feel yourself tighten around his cock as it pumps into you from how good you are feeling. 

As John continues, you look up at him, your eyebrows drawn and your face so close to ecstasy, your body so tight and close to giving you the release you desperately need. You know John's close too, his face turning from one of someone so focused on their partner's pleasure, to someone who can barely keep their eyes open from how good it feels. The thought that somehow, right now, you have a small bit of power over him, turns you on. The fact that it's your pussy that makes him devolve into a mess of breaths and soft groans is so satisfying you can feel yourself start to cum. That's all it takes for John to join you, his cock twitching and full, going deeper into you with each long thrust as you both finish together. You can feel the rush of heat as he delivers his pleasure unto you. 

John collapses beside you, spent. You move, your body sore where John held your legs open for so long. You find your way onto his sweaty chest, laying your head down onto his defined chest muscles. John wraps an arm around you, his hand gently, so slowly, petting your hair. You know he isn't the super affectionate type, but you also know that you've been together long enough that your husband cannot refuse you on much. Especially not when the two of you can relax into each other. 

You softly close your eyes and count John's breath, trying to match yours to his. You aren't sure after what count it happened, but you fall asleep in John's arms. 

[zzoomacroom]

Live a Little

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Dreamling, One Shot, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, 6500 words

Late entry for @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Day 1: Indulgence, First Time). Also for @dreamlingbingo (Square A3: Friends to Lovers)

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Summary: Dream needs to be convinced that he’s allowed to indulge, to want, to live. Hob shows him some of the little things that make life worthwhile: good friends, good wine, fancy chocolate, and amazing sex.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Under-negotiated Kink, Dream has bad blowjob etiquette but Hob is into it, not beta read

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“Make yourself at home, my friend,” Hob says, ushering his oldest and dearest friend into the sitting room. Dream nods soberly and heads for the sofa, while Hob turns back towards the hall. “Back in a tick. I’ve got a nice Pinot noir I’ve been saving that I think you’ll like.”

Before his friend can launch into his whole “You need not trouble yourself, I have no need for sustenance, blah blah blah” spiel, Hob darts through the hall and into the bright, cluttered kitchen at the back of the flat. He uncorks the wine and crouches down to rummage through the cabinets, hauling aside dishes and cast iron pans that would almost certainly be considered antiques by now. He knows they’re around here somewhere…

“Ha!” Hob makes a little noise of triumph as he retrieves the pair of dusty earthenware cups that he’d bought at an art fair a couple decades back. They’re handmade and painted in brilliant blues and greens, and the small bumps and imperfections on them remind him of the Border ware dishes he had owned back in the mid-16th century (minus the lead glaze, presumably).

Hob gives the cups a quick wash and dries them off before pouring the wine. He’s learned the hard way that Dream is not a fan of glass drinkware these days. When his friend explained the reason for this sudden aversion, Hob’s heart had shattered like the brandy snifter that Dream had dropped minutes before. Afterwards, he had gone through and purged his flat of wine glasses, glass bowls, and anything else that even vaguely resembled the prison Dream had described. Not just for his friend’s sake, but for himself; he doesn’t want that reminder either—the thought of his dear stranger, trapped, alone… If Hob had known…

God, if only he’d known…

Anyway. The point is, he’s been sticking with coffee mugs since then. But he can’t serve fine wine to the King of Dreams and Nightmares in a “Shag of the Century” mug, even if it does feel hilariously apropos, so it’s lucky he remembered these. The flat’s a bit of a mess as it is and he doesn’t want to come across as too much of a slob.

Hob hadn’t expected his old friend to drop by today. Well, to be honest, he never expects it, but he’s always thrilled to see him. Ever since they broke their centennial tradition with that first meeting at the New Inn, Dream has started visiting more frequently. At first it was brief, sporadic meetings at the pub, but he gradually started to come around more often, much to Hob’s delight. He’s shown up a few times when Hob was leaving work, instigating a riot of gossip among Hob’s coworkers and sixth-formers alike. Sometimes he visits Hob while he dreams, which had destroyed Hob’s entire perception of reality the first time it happened and still never ceases to blow his mind.

Usually the two of them come up to Hob’s flat, ostensibly to watch a movie or so that Hob can show off whatever new gadget he’s acquired, but the truth is that he wants Dream’s attention all to himself. Hob has always been a selfish, greedy man, and he can’t help but covet this precious time spent together. One never knows if the next Will Shakespeare is lurking in the pub.

He can never predict exactly when his friend will show up, but these days it seems like hardly a week passes without seeing him. So it’s odd that this is the first time he’s been by in over a month. Hob had noticed right away that something was troubling him; Dream seems even more distant and shuttered than usual today, and so Hob had herded him upstairs the moment he walked through the door.

He’s trying very hard not to be a mother hen, but in fairness the pub was starting to get crowded, and Hob knows that his friend is not fond of the noise. He’s just being considerate, he tells himself. Yes, he’s missed him desperately these past few weeks, and yes, the worry that he’d been captured again has consistently been in the back of Hob’s mind. But he has to rein it in and play it cool, lest he trigger another incident like 1889. He knows how lucky he is, how spoiled he’s become, getting to see Dream so often after having gone a century (or more) between meetings. So he knows he’s being a bit silly, getting so antsy after only a month apart.

Still. He worries.

(Continue reading below or on ao3):

Hob returns to the sitting room, wine bottle in one hand and the two cups balanced precariously in the other. He stifles a gasp and nearly drops them when he sees his friend perched on the sofa, having evidently vanished his coat and shoes back to the Dreaming, leaving his feet and arms bare. Hob simultaneously feels like a prude and a pervert as he drinks in the rare sight of that flawless ivory skin.

Then his heart swells with fondness—Dream has actually attempted to make himself at home, like Hob offered. “Attempted” being the key word; he does rather look like he’s sitting in a waiting room instead of on his friend’s sofa. Like he’s not sure how comfortable he’s allowed to get. Hob wants to make him comfortable, wants to wrap him in soft blankets and feed him soup and make him understand how fiercely loved he is.

Steady on, Hobsie. Get a hold of yourself.

Dream looks up from the worn copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he’s been thumbing through, and if Hob didn’t know any better he’d say there was a faint blush blooming on his perfect cheekbones.

See, that’s the elephant in the room: the ever-present sexual tension between them has been at an all-time high lately. Obviously, Hob fell in love with Dream the second he laid eyes on him—how could he not?—and occasionally, over the centuries, he’s felt a spark of… something, from his stranger (that look he’d given him in 1789 being the most flagrant example). And he’s been feeling that something more and more often these days.

Maybe he’s just a lovesick, hope-stricken old fool, but Hob has a sneaking suspicion that his feelings for his friend are, at least to some small degree, reciprocated. Hob is sure as hell not going to make the first move; he cringes as he remembers how that had gone the last time he tried it. But it’s alright. He can be patient. He has been patient. And if nothing ever happens between them, well, that’s alright too. This easy companionship that they’ve developed is more than Hob could have ever hoped for, and he considers himself a lucky man indeed.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Here we are, my friend.” Hob hands one of the cups to Dream—the blue one that matches his eyes—and settles beside him on the sofa, stretching and making a point of putting his feet up on the coffee table to signal to his friend that he’s allowed to relax. And he does seem to get the hint, his shoulders easing down a fraction as he leans back into the cushions. “To life,” Hob says, tilting his cup Dream’s direction. Dream responds with a small, slightly pained smile and gently clinks his cup against Hob’s before taking a sip, humming appreciatively as he drinks.

“Good, eh?” Hob grins, thrilled that his friend is enjoying it.

“Indeed. This is a fine vintage. I thank you for sharing it with me,” Dream replies solemnly.

“I can’t think of anyone better to share it with,” Hob says, perhaps a bit too earnestly, and Dream’s blush deepens ever so slightly. “So,” Hob clears his throat, “what have you been up to, my friend? It’s been a while since I saw you last.” Dream stiffens at that, and Hob hastily adds, “If you want to talk about it, that is. You don’t have to.”

Dream takes another long sip of wine and shakes his head before speaking. “I was with family. I spent some time with my youngest sister, as well as some other relations. One whom I had not seen in centuries, and. Another. With whom I had not spoken in millennia.”

To Hob’s credit, his mind boggles only a little at that. “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Family reunion and all?”

Dream makes a small noise—of agreement or skepticism, Hob couldn’t say—and looks away as he continues to drink his wine. It’s obvious that something has happened; Dream seems… hopeless. Resigned. To what, Hob doesn’t dare guess. Dream doesn’t seem inclined to share more at the moment, and there’s a beat of awkward silence as Hob fumbles through his mind for a new topic of conversation. He’s mentally reviewing his day for any interesting stories to tell when he notices his friend staring at the small box wrapped in gold paper on the coffee table, seemingly lost in thought.

Hob springs forward and opens the box, nudging the chocolates in Dream’s direction. “Oh! Where are my manners? Help yourself to those. Some of my coworkers got them for my birthday—well, what they think is my birthday.”

Dream blinks at him. “I do not need to eat.”

Hob chuckles. “Nobody needs to eat chocolate. It’s purely for pleasure. You don’t need to drink this very good wine either, but you’re enjoying it,” he points out, topping off both of their cups to underscore his argument. “And I bet these would go great with the Pinot.” He takes a vanilla cream-filled one for himself before pushing the box closer to Dream. “Go on, they’re quite nice. It’s the expensive stuff. I think that one’s caramel, and that’s a raspberry cream…”

A tiny smile creeps over his friend’s face as he speaks. “My sister is fond of those. Or. Something like them.”

Hob is immensely curious about these family members Dream keeps mentioning, but he doesn’t want to pry; he knows by now that if Dream wants to share something with him, he’ll do so in his own time. “Well, please, have as many as you’d like. I’ll never finish them all before they go stale, so you’d be doing me a favor.”

“I do not usually. Indulge,” Dream says, though he is still staring (longingly, one might almost say) at the cocoa-dusted confections.

“You mean to tell me you’ve got the entire Dreaming at your fingertips, and you don’t indulge in all the lovely things you’ve made? That, my friend, is a tragedy.” Hob smiles and shrugs. “Well, if you won’t indulge yourself, then why not indulge me? I won’t make you eat them, of course, but…” he takes a bite of the bonbon (it really is good, even if it’s a bit too sweet for his taste), “you’d be missing out.”

The gloom that had earlier enshrouded Dream seems all but dissipated, and Hob can’t help but notice the way his friend’s eyes flick to his mouth, the starry voids of his pupils blown wide. Hob is considerably flustered himself right now, but he manages to give his friend what he hopes is a roguishly charming wink.

Dream glances down, his cheeks reddening further. “Very well. If you insist,” he says primly, like he’s doing Hob a favor as he delicately plucks a milk chocolate truffle from the box. And he is doing him a favor; Hob already counted it as a win that he was enjoying the wine, and this is just… well, the icing on the cake. Hmm, maybe he can get him to try cake next time…

Hob loses his train of thought as he watches his friend bite into the chocolate. Dream’s eyes widen before fluttering shut, and the moan he lets out is downright sinful. It’s enthralling. Hob is in trouble.

Dream keeps his eyes closed while he savors the confection, his tongue darting out to lick the powdered cacao from his petal-pink lips. He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Hob shivers as he envisions…

No. Now is not the time. Keep it together, old man. Hob shifts and crosses his legs, vainly attempting to ignore the heat pooling low in his belly and the subtle tightening of his trousers.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dream murmurs, glancing demurely at Hob. “They are. Nice. As you said.”

“Of course. I’m glad you like them,” Hob beams. “Help yourself to more. Anything I have, you’re welcome to,” he adds, gesturing vaguely around the flat.

Dream stares at him for a long moment, with a hunger in his eyes that brings to mind that look, the one he’d given him in 1789. There’s something else in his expression, though. Something sad. But before Hob can attempt to decipher it, Dream schools his features, once more a mask of emotionless detachment (except for the telltale flush that has now spread from his cheeks to his ears and neck).

They’re sitting quite close together on the sofa, Hob notices. Had he scooted over without realizing, or was that Dream? There’s no body heat, no familiar human scent coming from his friend, but Hob can feel a strange sort of energy emanating from him—something like static electricity. Like the heavy, expectant stillness that comes before a storm.

Dream slowly, hesitantly reaches for another piece, and as he leans forward their thighs brush together ever so faintly.

Hob’s breath hitches.

Although they’ve been meeting regularly for a couple years now, they have never so much as shaken hands. This is unprecedented.

Hob exhales shakily, and he can’t hold back the embarrassing little noise that escapes him. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but Dream freezes and draws back suddenly as if he’s been bitten.

“It’s alright,” Hob says softly, almost a whisper, like his friend is some skittish wild beast who might flee at any second (actually, that’s about the size of it). “Have another one.”

Dream shrinks back into the sofa, looking suddenly rueful. “I should not.”

Hob laughs nervously. “Now don’t tell me you’re trying to watch your figure, because you’re already…” he splutters and trails off, tugging on his earlobe as a prickling heat creeps up the back of his neck.

Too much. Stupid. So bloody stupid, just shut up.

He hasn’t had nearly enough wine for his mind to be so fuzzy and his mouth so loose. So why can’t he get a grip?

"It’s just—I mean,” he goes on, his treacherous mouth continuing to prattle on despite his brain’s feeble protests, “my point is, it’s alright to indulge. You of all people deserve to indulge. And I offered, so… please. Take what you want. You’re allowed to want things, Dream. And you deserve to have what you want. And—and I know, you can conjure anything up out of dreams and stardust. But even so. I just… I want you to know that anything I have, anything I can offer, however trivial, it’s yours if you want it. And it’s just chocolate and wine, eh? So… why not live a little?”

Hob looks up, apparently done with his ramble, to find Dream staring at him, his head cocked in that adorable way of his. His lips are parted slightly and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Oh, brilliant. Great fucking job, Hobsie. Just don’t know when to quit, do you?

“Hob,” his friend begins, his voice a deep rumble of distant thunder, more of a feeling than a sound. “You are very generous. More so than is wise, and far more than I deserve. But I am afraid that your generosity may be. Misplaced. You say that I should ‘live a little,’ but. I am not… alive, in the way that you are. I do not live. I simply… am.”

Hob stares at him, dumbfounded, while his heart breaks into a thousand pieces. That… is the saddest fucking thing Hob has ever heard in the two-thirds of a millennium that he’s been alive. It all makes sense now. That’s why Dream has always been so interested in the mundane minutiae of his life. He’s been living vicariously through Hob, and all the while he’s got no life of his own. Just… existing, not living, for billions of years, and on and on until the end of time.

But that’s not true, is it? No. Hob rejects the entire premise. Dream may not be a living, breathing human, but he’s a person. And he does so have a life; he’s got a family. He’s got friends. If nothing else, he’s got Hob. He’s more than just his bloody function that he’s always going on about. Hob wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Tell him that he can live, he must.

Hob’s mind is already racing with ideas—he’s going to have to up his game; they can’t keep meeting at the pub or in Hob’s flat. There’s so much more out there to do and see. Maybe, instead of living vicariously through him, Hob can convince Dream to do some living with him. Not like that… Just. Bucket list-type stuff, even though neither of them can die. Although he doubts Dream would go for it; the mental image of his dear friend skydiving is as far-fetched as it is hilarious.

Of course, he doesn’t dare say any of that. He’s sure he’s already overstepped with that unhinged rant he just went on. He ought to quit while he’s ahead and drop the subject before he offends Dream. Still, it’s impossible not to notice the way Dream has been swaying closer to him over the course of this conversation. The way the air between them seems to crackle with electricity.

“Nevertheless,” Dream continues, “I am grateful for your kindness. Thank you, my friend.”

"'Course,” Hob murmurs. “Like I said. Anything I can offer, it’s yours. So… what do you want?”

Dream falters for a moment and seems to be intensely focused on picking at a nonexistent loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. “I… I must confess that I do not know what to say. When you ask me this. It is not in my nature to want; desire is the domain of my sibling. It is not within the purview of dreams. I do not live, nor do I want.”

“Bullshit.” The word spills from Hob’s mouth before the thought even crystallizes in his mind. Dream looks stunned and a bit offended, though more confused than anything else. He’s not getting up and storming out, though, so that’s a good sign. He’s frowning, but still watching Hob intently, like he’s curious as to how Hob will follow up that little outburst. Hob is curious where he’s going with this, too; apparently, sitting this close to Dream has caused his brain to short circuit, and now his mouth is running on autopilot.

Ah. Right. Better keep talking, then.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. But… I mean, obviously you wanted that chocolate. And you want to be here, or you’d have left already.” The furrow between Dream’s brows deepens as Hob speaks, and he clenches his jaw tightly. Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t give him ideas. Dial it back, old man. “But that’s alright! Really, it’s fine! More than fine! I—I don’t know about this sibling of yours, but… it just seems to me like you do want something, my friend. And whatever it is, if it’s in my power to give it to you, that’s what I want. So… what do you want?” he asks again.

Dream hesitates, gazing at Hob with those fathomless blue eyes as he appears to genuinely consider the question. He’s sitting so close that Hob can see his own reflection, blurry and distorted, mirrored in the glossy sheen of tears that rests on his friend’s dark lashes.

Finally, he seems to make up his mind. He swallows and leans closer still, his face mere inches away from Hob’s. Hob ceases breathing as a perfect, pale hand snakes upward at a glacial pace, coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. It’s smooth and cool, and Hob’s eyes drift shut as he leans into the touch. Then, impossibly soft lips are brushing against his own, and Hob lets out a muffled sob as one hand flies to Dream’s waist, the other gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Dream’s tongue probes gingerly into Hob’s open mouth, and lightning sparkles behind his eyelids. His heartbeat is a rolling crash of thunder as the clouds finally break—kissing Dream is like the first rain after centuries of drought; cool and sweet and refreshing and vital. Hob didn’t realize how parched he had been for so long, how desolate the desert of his soul, until this. This perfect kiss. It’s soft and slow and tastes like chocolate and red wine, and this—this may be what finally does Hob in after all these years.

Or it could just be that he hasn’t taken a breath in almost a full minute.

He pulls back, gasping and panting as he rests his forehead against Dream’s. Words fail him—a rare occurrence for Hob—and all he can do is grin stupidly at his friend.

“You,” Dream answers finally. “I want you, Hob.”

Hob lets out a wet, trembling laugh. “You’ve got me, Dream,” Hob whispers. “You’ve always had me.”

Dream surges forward to kiss him again, bolder and more eager this time, and Hob allows himself get swept away in the deluge. He could stay like this for hours—forever, even—and a needy whine escapes him when Dream pulls away again and surveys him with a smoldering gaze.

“Take me to bed, Hob,” he purrs.

“Oh, darling, absolutely,” Hob replies, scrambling up from the sofa and taking Dream’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. Then he freezes, struck by a sudden thought. “Er, quick question first. Is this really—I mean, am I awake right now, or…?”

Dream’s red, kiss-swollen lips twist into a fond smirk. “You are awake, Hob. But would it make any difference if you were not?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “No, I s’pose it wouldn’t.”

Minutes later, they are entangled on Hob’s unmade bed, exploring each other hungrily with hands and lips and tongues and teeth. Hob is naked from the waist up, Dream having torn his shirt from his body with a fierce, otherworldly strength that was so startlingly arousing that Hob can’t even complain about the loss of his favorite button-down.

Dream sinks his delicate fingers into the thick pelt on Hob’s chest, humming approvingly into his mouth as he grinds against Hob’s thigh. Hob can feel his arousal through the soft fabric of his trousers, and he dips his hand beneath the waistband to squeeze the meager flesh of Dream’s arse. Dream goes still and inhales a sharp breath that Hob knows he doesn’t actually need.

“Hey. You alright?” Hob asks, withdrawing his hand and soothing it over Dream’s shoulder. “Sorry. I should have asked first. I know—after what you went through… I get it. We don’t have to keep going, love. Or we can, and you can keep—”

Dream cuts off his nervous babbling with a kiss. “I wish to continue. I trust you, Hob.”

Hob thinks he might explode from the affection that swells in him at those words. He beams at Dream and steals another quick, fervent kiss before peeling off his shirt.

“Look at you,” he breathes, drinking in the vision before him—Dream is utterly flawless. A marble statue come to life with creamy-white skin and elegant collarbones that flow into lithe, graceful shoulders and lean, well-muscled arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could cry, Dream,” Hob says raggedly as he runs his hands over smooth plane of Dream’s chest, circling his thumbs reverently around the firm, pink buds of his nipples.

Dream sighs and closes his eyes as he arches into Hob’s caress, dragging his fingers through the wealth of hair on Hob’s chest and continuing downwards, tracing the narrow trail down to the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them with nimble fingers.

Hob quickly shuffles out of his trousers and pants, groaning as his erect cock springs free. Dream’s eyes darken, the sky-blue of his irises nearly eclipsed by starry black as he (sweet Christ in heaven) licks his lips. “Hob,” he rumbles, his voice even deeper and silkier than usual. “You are. Exquisite.”

A laugh bubbles up from Hob’s throat unbidden. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just—hearing that from you is… I mean, I can’t believe this is really happening, it’s like—”

“Hob,” Dream interrupts, raising his eyebrows and lifting his hips emphatically.

“Right. Sorry,” Hob says, bending down to unbutton Dream’s jeans. But just as his hand brushes over the zipper, the trousers vanish, leaving Dream totally nude with Hob’s hand just millimeters away from his flushed, heavy prick. “Someone’s eager,” he smiles, taking him in hand and gently stroking the delicate, velvety flesh. “Gods above, Dream, you have the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen.”

It really is lovely—long and slim and rosy, all wreathed in soft black curls. Even his balls are pretty; plump and pert and perfectly round. Hob wriggles down the bed and nuzzles into the hot, solid length, relishing the weight of it on his face. He licks from the base to the tip, laving his tongue over the leaking slit before mouthing his way back down to his balls, sucking on each of them in turn. Above him, Dream breathes heavily and lets out quiet little whimpers. Hob strokes his thighs—he’s so tense, his muscles taut as a bowstring beneath his silken skin.

“Relax, darling,” Hob says, placing a kiss to the bony jut of his pelvis. “I’ve got you. Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He returns to his task of exploring Dream’s cock with his tongue, and Dream takes a long, quivering breath, loosening a fraction as he exhales. Hob can’t help but feel a bit smug at the knowledge that he’s gotten Dream so worked up he’s apparently forgotten he doesn’t need to breathe. “That’s it, love. Let me take care of you.”

He takes Dream’s bollocks into his mouth again, then moves lower to give a tentative lick to his hole. Dream gasps and startles at that, and Hob hears a choked-off “ah!” somewhere above his head.

Hmm, interesting.

Hob raises his head to see Dream looking down at him in wonder, mouth agape and eyes glazed. His cheeks are flushed a deep rose, and glistening drops of pre-cum decorate the alabaster plane of his abdomen. Hob smiles up at him, tracing a finger around the tight, twitching furl of muscle. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” he murmurs.

“No,” Dream replies in a trembling whisper.

“May I?” Hob asks gently?

“Please,” Dream sighs, and Hob nearly comes untouched on the spot.

He slides a pillow under Dream’s hips and pushes his thighs upwards, gliding his hands along the smooth white flesh and trailing light kisses down to his spread arse cheeks. “Gonna make you feel so good, love. Just promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like, alright?”

He glances up to see Dream nodding frantically, his eyes wide and black and glittering. “Yes. I trust you, Hob,” he says again.

Hob grins before diving in and licking a stripe from his entrance to his bollocks and back down, circling his tongue around the rim and nibbling at the tender pucker of milky skin. Dream moans and keens beautifully as Hob thoroughly slicks his hole with saliva, slurping and suckling and reveling in the sensation of Dream’s hairless, baby-soft flesh against his cheeks and chin. He dips his tongue inside, and Dream wails while Hob hums and groans enthusiastically. Dream is hot inside, and he tastes of petrichor and electricity and something Hob can’t identify but that he knows down to the very foundations of his soul (dreams, his mind supplies. He tastes like dreams).

“Hob!” Dream gasps, his voice rough and rasping. “Please—please—!”

Hob works his tongue in deeper, then pulls back and jabs it in again and again, until Dream is mewling and sobbing and writhing in ecstasy. He thinks he doesn’t want? I could teach him to want. Eat him out for hours until he’s sobbing and begging to come.

Just as the vision materializes in his head, Dream howls and clenches around Hob’s tongue. “Yes! Yes, Hob, please please please—I want—ahh!”

Hob has long suspected that his old friend could read his mind, and this all but confirms it. He shivers as he realizes the potential there—the possibilities are, well, endless. Hob withdraws his tongue and glances up, only to be met with the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed: Dream, red-faced and panting, his chest heaving, his lovely prick rock hard and leaking steadily against his porcelain stomach.

“Look at you. So bloody gorgeous,” Hob says hoarsely. “How are you feeling, darling? Good?” Dream nods, and Hob smiles and nuzzles against the back of his thigh. “Be a dear and grab the lube? It’s just in the top drawer there.” He tilts his head in the direction of the nightstand and Dream twists around to procure the half-empty pump bottle.

“It is not necessary,” Dream mumbles once he’s remembered to catch his breath, though he nonetheless hands the bottle over. “You cannot hurt me.”

“I know,” Hob replies lightly, shrugging one shoulder. “All the same, I’d prefer not to risk it. Indulge me.”

Dream’s lip quirks and he huffs a tiny laugh before settling back onto the pillows, graciously allowing Hob to continue. Of course he’d be a pillow princess, Hob thinks fondly as he squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, spreading it over Dream’s puffy, fluttering hole. He works a finger inside slowly, and Dream makes the sweetest little noises as Hob strokes his tight, satiny walls and brings his other hand to Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream moans and arches upward into his hand, sighing in relief as the tension begins to bleed from his body.

“That’s it, darling. You’re doing so well. Just let go,” Hob coos. He adds a second finger and finds Dream’s prostate, brushing over it teasingly on every other thrust. “You feel so bloody good inside. Would love to fuck you sometime. Want you to fuck me, too. I could ride that beautiful cock of yours all day. Would you like that, love?”

“Yes—Hob—anything—please!” Dream cries breathlessly, grinding down wantonly on Hob’s fingers.

“Mm, we’ll work up to that. Right now I’d like to get my mouth on you, and you’re not going to last much longer, are you sweetheart?”

“I can—” Dream begins what would no doubt have been a devastating retort, but it tapers off into a high, quavering whine as Hob lowers his mouth to his cock, sinking down in a slow glide until he can feel the bulbous head in the back of his throat, trickling a warm rivulet of pre-come. He swallows, and Dream’s hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly as he starts fucking furiously into Hob’s mouth. Hob groans and ruts his own aching cock against the mattress as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of Dream’s slick, clutching entrance. It’s raw and rough and animalistic, and Hob is more than happy to let Dream use him however he pleases right now; he might come just from this.

With no warning save for a guttural growl and a stutter of his hips, Dream comes down Hob’s throat in thick, hot spurts. He shudders and gasps, tugging roughly on Hob’s hair before abruptly going limp and boneless. Hob swallows down the last drops of spend and slowly pulls his mouth and fingers away, panting raggedly.

He crawls up the bed to wrap Dream in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. “You did so well, love,” Hob whispers proudly. “So beautiful when you let go like that.”

Dream hums and grinds languidly against Hob’s still-hard prick where it rests between the cleft of his arse. He wriggles around in Hob’s hold and captures his mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. He trails his lips along Hob’s jaw, down his neck and chest, steadily traveling southward until he is face to face with Hob’s cock. It’s a bit shorter than Dream’s, albeit thicker, and darker-toned; not as pretty, in Hob’s opinion, though Dream would appear to disagree—he’s practically got hearts in his eyes as he glides his cheek along the hefty, engorged length. He glances hesitantly up at Hob through his thick lashes, looking almost shy.

“You don’t have to, love,” Hob smiles down at him, running his fingers through Dream’s downy, soot-dark hair. “I just wanted to make you feel good, is all.”

“Indeed?” Dream smirks. “I thought that you were teaching me to indulge. So. Won’t you indulge me?”

Hob lets out a delighted laugh. “Well, suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Dream makes a noise of agreement, then swiftly takes Hob’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him to the root in the blink of an eye. Hob gasps at the sudden velvety warmth enveloping his prick, and his hips jerk involuntarily. Dream stills him with surprisingly strong hands, pinning him down and bobbing his head in quick, fluid motions. Dream’s mouth is… fucking sublime. Christ’s bloody wounds, he’s good at this. Hob brings his hands to Dream’s hair, not pulling but stroking and kneading his scalp. Dream rumbles in approval, his deep moans vibrating through Hob’s cock, and Hob throws his head back against the pillows.

“Not gonna last,” he grunts in warning.

Dream only takes him deeper, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping hungrily as he bobs his head faster. Hob looks down to see Dream gazing up at him with a blissfully dazed expression, his forget-me-not blue eyes glassy and his cheeks streaked with tears. Hob is hit with a flash of deja vu; he’s fantasized about exactly this on many a lonely night over the centuries, though his imaginings never came close to the divine, earth-shattering perfection that is Dream’s mouth. He comes with a choked sob, flooding Dream’s mouth with a torrent of spend, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut as he swallows it down eagerly.

“I love you—!” The words escape unbidden in a breathless whisper, dragged forth from somewhere deep within the core of Hob’s being, unable to be contained any longer after being left unsaid for over 600 years. Hob doesn’t realize what he’s said until Dream freezes, tightening his grasp on Hob’s hips and digging his sharp fingernails into his flesh. Then, he’s crawling up Hob’s body like a tiger pinning its prey, steely eyes boring straight into his soul.

Fuck. Of course, had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you?

“You mean that,” Dream intones, low and sonorous. It is not a question.

“Yes,” Hob replies softly, his voice wavering as he braces himself for the inevitable swirl of sand as Dream disappears.

Instead, Dream swoops down and captures Hob’s mouth in a savage, frenzied kiss, growling and digging his fingers possessively into Hob’s ribcage. He claims him with kisses and bites and scratches and bruises, descending on Hob like a starving man on a feast, and Hob is only too pleased to let Dream glut himself on him. Dream could devour him whole, if that would make him happy.

Once he has thoroughly left his mark, Dream runs his eyes over Hob’s body in apparent satisfaction before nestling into his side and draping himself over his chest. “I think,” Dream says, curling a tuft of chest hair around his long pale fingers, “that I feel the same. About you.” He buries his face in Hob’s neck, and Hob pulls him into a crushing embrace, beaming as he plants a kiss to the top of his head.

“So,” Hob laughs through joyous tears, “would you still say you’re just existing? Because I think we did a lot of living today.”

Dream huffs into his shoulder. “You make a convincing argument,” he concedes, his voice muffled. Then he raises his head to look at Hob, his eyes shining with amusement. “However, I believe I will need more evidence before I can draw an accurate conclusion.”

“Oh, just you wait, darling,” Hob grins. “I happen to be an expert on living, and I’m going to show you all the little things that make it worthwhile.”

Dream’s smile fades slightly at that. Hob brings a hand to his cheek, tilting Dream’s chin up and meeting him in a tender kiss. “Hey,” he whispers. “D’you want to tell me what’s been going on? It’s just… Clearly, something’s bothering you, love. And if there’s any way I can help… You know I’d do anything for you, Dream.”

“You have helped. More than you realize. And… I will tell you what has happened. What I have done. Not today, but… I will tell you. Though you may come to hate me for it,” Dream sighs heavily.

“I could never hate you,” Hob replies automatically. Because it’s true; he’d fallen arse over teakettle for Dream when he thought he was the actual devil. “Whatever happened, we’ll sort it out, eh?”

Dream simply stares at him for a long moment before speaking again. “What do you think happens to a character when their story has finished being told?”

“Er—” Hob doesn’t know what he was expecting Dream to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Dream has him fixed with a piercing gaze, obviously awaiting a well-thought-out answer. “Well… I guess that’s up to the character do decide, isn’t it? Once the story is over, they’re free to do what they want, I suppose.” He shrugs. This discussion is far too deep for pillow talk.

Dream frowns, furrowing his brows as he considers. “I believe there is some merit to your words,” he pronounces thoughtfully. “I have long believed that I have no story of my own. Perhaps I am wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just in the wrong story,” Hob yawns. He’s honestly lost the thread a bit by this point, and he’s not entirely sure what they were talking about to begin with. But that feels like the right thing to say, and Dream evidently agrees as he rests his cheek on Hob’s chest, just over his heart.

“Perhaps,” Dream murmurs, almost inaudibly.

“Like I said,” Hob says, stroking lightly down his back. “We’ll sort it out.” He yawns again, then winces at the strain on his sore jaw. “Tomorrow, though. Because I am absolutely knackered, darling.”

Dream hums, burrowing contently into Hob’s hold. “Yes. Sleep, beloved. And dream of me.”

Hob chuckles drowsily. “I always do.”

✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[the-himawari]

A3! Utsuki Chikage - Translation [SR] Bright Star of Blooming (2/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Izumi: Great job, everyone!

Tsuzuru: Good work today.

Chikage: Job well done.

Izumi: Sorry for asking this right after we finished, could I please take your photo, Chikage-san!

Masumi: …So cute. I want to take a picture of you too.

Izumi: Thanks. But we’ll save that for next time!

Chikage: If I’m not mistaken, this is the photo for the present. The pose was…

Izumi: The rule is to make a heart!

Chikage: …That’s right.

Izumi: Alright, I’m taking it. 3, 2, 1—.

*click*

Tsuzuru: That’s a rather strange heart…

Masumi: The heart has two fingers sticking out…

Izumi: Ah! Are you making a bunny?

Chikage: …Correct. Colour me surprised that you realized. Kazunari went out of his way to teach me about it since he said rabbits and the moon go hand in hand. Honestly, I was a tad hesitant, but I figured I might as well go for it. I’m glad it seems I did it properly.

Izumi: Fufu. It’s a rare shot.

Tsuzuru: This is a play where Chikage-san has done lots of unusual things for himself, after all.

Masumi: It’s fine, right? Once in a while.

Chikage: I suppose so. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

-pause-

Chikage: We’re done changing now. Shall we start heading back?

Izumi: Sounds good. What kind of curry should we have for dinner tonight~?

Masumi: Any curry is welcome as long as you make it.

Tsuzuru: By the way, have you finished reading the book you bought the other day, Chikage-san?

Chikage: Not yet. I’ve been busy with work since then. I’ve been reading it in my spare time, and I’m about 85% way through. I plan to finish it tonight. Would you like me to lend it to you once I’m done with it?

Tsuzuru: It’s okay. I was just curious, that’s all. Besides, it’ll take me years to get through reading the French with a dictionary in my hand…

Chikage: I can teach you anytime.

*dream starts*

???: *Mutter, mutter*… Ah! Eureka! This part goes like so, and then I connect it to that part—.

Chikage: …?

Robert: *Grumble, grumble*…

Chikage: (That man with his back to me—is that Robert?) (…I see. Is this a dream?)

Robert: *Mutter, mutter*…

Chikage: (It doesn’t appear he’s noticed me. But I can’t simply keep watching him like this forever.) …Excuse me. Could I help you with anything?

Robert: WAHHH!

Chikage: Sorry. Did I startle you?

Robert: N-No… But no one ever visits my research facility—. …Hm? You just said you would help me, did you not? Does that mean the moon has also caught your fancy!?

Chikage: Huh?

Robert: I am overjoyed. A kindred spirit!

Chikage: (…Well, let’s just go with that. He’s not wrong.)

Robert: Pray tell, do you have experience building rockets?

Chikage: Unfortunately not. …But there was someone close to me who was doing that sort of research.

Robert: How splendid!

Chikage: …You really do love the moon, don’t you?

Robert: Absolutely! I have long since admired it.

Chikage: … Have you ever considered the possibility… that the moon might not be the place you thought it would be? You may be disappointed, and even worse, you might even die. Do thoughts like that not scare you?

Robert: —. …Not at all. I would feel fulfilled simply being able to go to the moon. However—there is one thing that frightens me.

Chikage: …Something that frightens you?

Robert: …Not having a place to belong. Perhaps there is a place for me, there, on the moon. I have continued with my research to reach the moon while holding onto that belief—. But if that does not turn out to be true—then I will be alone forever.

Chikage: …Alone, huh? That may be so.

Robert: …

Chikage: But I’m certain you’ll find it. I believe that everyone has a place where they belong. That’s why you should aim for the moon in order to confirm that for yourself.

Robert: …I agree. Do you have one? A place where you belong?

Chikage: …Yes. I’ve found mine, too.

*dream ends*

Itaru: We’re having curry again tonight?

Citron: It smells like something I have never smelled before! Sakuya, why don’t you give it a try?

Sakuya: Ehh! Me!? I have to work up the courage…!

Itaru: Alright, let’s summon Senpai. Someone go call him—.

Chikage: …

Tsuzuru: Chikage-san! Dinner’s ready—ah, I’m so sorry. Were you working?

Chikage: No worries. I was reading a book, but it appears I nodded off without realizing it.

Tsuzuru: Oh, that’s unusual. Did you by any chance have another dream…

Chikage: I did.

Tsuzuru: I see. What kind of dream… err, it’s still going to be a secret, isn’t it?

Chikage: I wasn’t planning to keep it a secret… but if that’s what you wish, then I suppose I’ll keep my lips sealed.

Tsuzuru: Wait, what…! …But I can tell it was a good dream. I see it from your face.

Chikage: A good dream? I won’t disagree—.

Tsuzuru: …? Was I wrong?

Chikage: …No. I was just thinking that dreams are quite convenient, aren’t they?

---

previous |

[darklightsworld]

So, about the new BeruBara movie in detail. I rushed to watch it, because the visitor present was the above genga copy <333 Pretty amazing, because even the exhibition last summer did not have genga copies in the goods corner (aside from the very expensive ones). In this sense I consider the price of the ticket well spent. It is shrunken to A4 (from B4), so I can even use it in class. Until now I only had a B4 original and several B5/A3 copies, and it isn't convenient to bring those to the uni. Anyway, I hope they will announce the week 3 present soon. I'm not so keen on the Fersen-Antoinette genga next week, but I would get that if the others aren't genga anymore.

This was the good, now onto the bad. It was bad, I was oscillating between cringing and secondhand embarrassment for a good part of the movie. One of the reasons in kind of subjective, but the bigger reasons are objective. First about the subjective: I don't like musicals. I already suspected from the trailer that they might go into that direction, because the theme song screams "musical song™️." That song is so bad too, and it also showcases the typical "let's throw English phrases into the lyrics, because they sound cool" attitude. But the thing is, Berubara takes place in France ^^; Anyway, I guess they might have gone into this direction, because Berubara has been a longstanding success with Takarazuka. Also something I'm not touching with a ten-foot pole. I'm not sure how Takarazuka fans liked the movie, but from an anime perspective, it was weird. This isn't Disney, anime rarely crosses over into musical, and even those instances aren't successful (I don't mean idol series, that's something else). Even this movie isn't actually a full-fledged musical, often it's like image/character songs sung by the cast added for certain reasons. This latter is also questionable, not all of the cast are nice to listen to... (see singer vs. seiyuu made to sing). The opening/theme song resurfaces more than once, and it becomes ridiculous when the uprising Parisians start to sing the same song used to welcome Antoinette in the beginning in a different arrangement. The song inserts are often used to rush through or gloss over things, but I will come back to this later. The symbolism used in some of these scenes is a mess too: art nouveau motifs for a rococo story... or the underwater imagery ^^;;;

Now, about the objective faults. This is not a well-made anime:

Visually, there are some/several money shots, but otherwise the sakuga is a lackluster. They clearly did not have enough money to make it movie quality. The visual style of the manga is old-fashioned, seen as kind of cheesy, and it has its fair share of parodies. It was a question whether the anime can honor this style without turning into its own parody. I don't think it always succeeded, hence my secondhand embarrassment. The musical parts also used a lot of bank shots in the name of "memories," so I guess those were also meant to save money.

The biggest issue is, however, the narrative. You could already see in the trailer that they would cover the whole story. Seeing that Berubara is a 10+ volume long series with 30+ years passing in the story, the movie was... ambitious, to say the least. Unfortunately the movie did not succeed to make it a coherent story. I blame the director too, because even though I think such a approach was bound to fail, it could have been better even among these circumstances.

The movie feels like a summary, or maybe a highlights reel, and I'm afraid it isn't understandable to those who don't know the story beforehand. Quite often the scenes are disjointed without any transition. Many subplots are only visually mentioned, and not even spoken about: the Dubarry issue appears during an image song, the gambling-Polignac-necklace affair during a narration (not mentioned by name), Jeanne does not appear. Rosalie appears in one scene, Bernard as well. Bernard gets named, but you may wonder why, because he does not become important for the plot. Robespierre is a single image too. I think they could have completely erased these, if they were reducing them to these mentions. They kind of feel like sending a message to fans that yeah, we know there's more to the story, but we don't have time to deal with them, so here, have some bullet points. I would have preferred a coherent plot instead... Btw, he noble thief plot is erased, André loses his vision in a different way. Girodelle asking for Oscar's hand seems so out of the blue, like, who were you again? ^^; Fersen is also dropped after they get together with Antoinette (except for a moment mentioned below). It is really bewildering.

As a fan you know what happens in-between, but if you don't know the story, it is difficult to understand the whys and hows. Btw, one of the worst gloss-overs is the Oscar in a dress scene (see above genga). Based on the movie it is already difficult to see where those feeling came from, but when she starts to dance with Fersen it turns into an image song of the four mains, and the unsuspecting viewer has no idea what happened there ^^;;; As mentioned, the musical parts had many repetitions, and with so little time to unfold any plot, they felt a waste of the little available time.

The characters feel very superficial because of rushing through the plot. If you don't know the story, you can only ask why this or that happened. Like, when did Oscar develop feeling for Fersen? And then for André? And so on. There is no show, only tell, and often not even that. Antoinette also loses later character development, and seems to be the selfish queen the French people paint her as. The plot starts to become more coherent after Oscar leaves the court, but even though there is character development for her, most of the political issues that influence her earn barely a mention. So yeah, superficial.

The story ends at the storm of the Bastille (iykyk), and the rest of the history is only narrated in etching style. I would have loved anime style illustrations.

These were the main issues I can remember off the top of my head. I think making a single movie out of this long story was an impossible undertaking to begin with, but it also could have been way better than this. More money for quality animation would have been necessary, also a coherent plot with more nuanced characters.

[nakidoriii]

a bird that can't sing.....

Keigo x reader One Shot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry for the wait. I’m all yours now.”

“I love this outfit on you.." Keigo blurts out the minute he sees you.

“I’ve never gotten so many compliments from a student before.” You say sitting down at your piano. 

He follows you and stands next to the piano. You play a couple of arpeggios to warm your hands up. Keigo watches in amazment. 

“So what do you wanna work on for your first singing lesson.” You ask him.

Keigo starts to laugh and says,”what if I said I just wanted to hang out with you and didn’t know how to ask you so I took up your offer for a singing lesson?” 

“That’s too bad because I’m already in the mood to teach a lesson.” 

Keigo throws his head back and groans,”UGGGHHHHHHH, fine.” 

“You got yourself into this. We can cut it short and then discuss why you had to LIE to just hang out with me.” you say bluntly. 

He flutters his wings and stands up straight.

“Yes, Mrs. Y/N. Sorry, Mrs. Y/N.” Keigo says. 

“Glad to see your ready. We’re gonna start with matching pitch.”

You start by playing middle C. You look at Keigo to match the pitch you just played. The moment he opens his mouth, he was terribly out of tune. 

“Oh okay.....that was bad.” 

Keigo’s jaw drops and he looks suprised by your statement. 

“Are you this RUDE to your students?” 

“Being honest and RUDE are two different things. Next and last pitch. Making you sing in key is above my pay-grade.” 

Keigo laughs and prepares himself to sing again. You play A3. Keigo is terrible out of tune again. 

“Alright, so....what do you wanna do? You’re just awful.” You say as you stand up from your piano bench. 

“Damn, okay….Watch a movie?” Keigo suggest as he pouts. He's fully acting as if he wanted the singing lesson, which he did not.

“Sure and while we pick a movie...we can discuss your lies.” You saunter over to the kitchem

Keigo follows you and says ,”Are you mad at me?” 

“Yeaaa.” You answer jokingly. 

Keigo pretends to bang his head against the wall and proceeds to get on his knees in front of you. He begs for forgiveness.

“I only lied because I was nervous. You’re just so pretty and gorgeous and cool and I’m so lame for lying. I don’t even like to lie! I panicked but now I’m at your house and we’re about to watch a movie and all is right in the world. Please forgive me. I don’t even deserve to sit next to someone as honest and beautiful as you. I’ll be a good boy from here on out, Mrs.Y/N.” Keigo says exaggeratedly.

Your blushing so hard, you can’t even look him in the eye. The begging, calling himself a good boy, and him being on his knees. He's playing some sort of game.

“Okay,okay just get off my floor. I forgive you. I actually think it’s sweet you went through all this trouble just to spend time with me.” You says. 

Keigo gets off the floor and says,” I meant every word I said. I panicked I just wanted to have a reason to see you.” 

You smile and wraps your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Keigo gets red in the face, feeling your breasts pressed up against his chest. He hugs you back by wrapping his arms around your waist. You both took a moment in time to feel each others warmth. Keigo started to squeeze you tighter and you nuzzled your head in his neck. 

“You’re so warm.” Keigo mumbles. 

His big hands rubbed up and down your back. You were both exhausted and this moment of silence and stillness was something you both appreciated. 

“Is it inappropriate to just ask if we could cuddle and chat in my bed? I’m just really exhausted from the day and I just wanna lay down but I don’t want you to go.” You admit. 

“I’m okay with that. I’m tired too.” Keigo agrees. 

You grabbed his hand and led him upstairs to your bed room where you spent the night getting to know each other and fell asleep in each others arms. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click here for the follow up to this one shot!

Please do not steal or alter my writings <3

A chapter I wrote for a fic I decided to never finish. what can ya dooooo.

Hope you liked it!

[kingyo-konbini]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS [KITA SHINSUKE X READER]

[SUMMARY] kita’s friend suddenly moves out of town without a word. he doesn’t realize how much she took with her when she left. [PRONOUNS] she/her [GENRE] light angst | song fic [POV] third person [WORD COUNT] 977 [CONTENT] miscommunication/lack thereof | unknowing mutual pining | inspo from song lyrics [A/N] may or may not have stolen this from a thing I wrote for my oc and tweaked it a bit…

(I still have everything you brought / But you never took)

She’d left her book.

It was a strange book, one Kita had never read himself despite finding the title intriguing. “Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World” by Murakami Haruki. She was more than halfway through it, the pale blue bookmark he’d given her sticking out from the pages.

It sat on his desk, next to a near-empty pack of peach-flavored gum. She’d left that, too.

The thought of reading the book for himself crossed his mind, but the moment the thought occurred, a sick, sour feeling bubbled up in his stomach, telling him he couldn’t—he needed to save her spot, so she could pick it up again when they met.

The gum, however, did need to go. He was more of a mint fan himself, and the gum might go stale by the time they reunited. Could gum go stale? Regardless, it would just be better to buy her a new pack, anyway.

His feet wouldn’t move towards his desk, though.

[“You left your book and some gum.”]

The text went through, but was never answered.

The book and the pack of gum remained on his desk, untouched, for almost a month. Then, his grandmother took pity on him and threw the pack away and put the book on his bookshelf.

She didn’t say anything about it, and neither did he.

[“Granny threw the gum away, I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new pack.”]

The text went through, but was never answered.

[“Are you coming back?”]

The text went through, but was never answered.

[“Are you coming back?”]

He stopped texting her.

(And although I think I’ll miss them / At least there’s proof of my existence)

They weren’t dating. They had never dated. He was her best friend, and in some ways she was his, too. They shared things, and she had developed a bad habit of leaving things at his home.

Kita, on the other hand, always made sure to keep track of his things. There was one time a knit hat went missing, but he quickly discovered that she had absconded with it after being surprised by a cold front. She offered to return it, but he declined. It looked better on her.

There was another time she asked to borrow a pen before classes started, stating that she’d forgotten hers at home. How she could forget her pen dumbfounded him, but he provided her with one of his own, nonetheless. A never used, black ink ballpoint pen; his favorite brand, and one of the last ones he had remaining. He didn’t tell her this, knowing that she would refuse to even borrow it with that knowledge. He didn’t ask for it back after class.

Granny had helped clean out the family’s house after they moved, and she’d mentioned offhandedly once that despite leaving in a hurry, they hadn’t forgotten a single thing.

For some reason, it felt good to think that she still had his hat and his pen, even if she didn’t remember where they’d come from.

(You know where to find me)

Nobody really brought her up once news of her moving made it around the school. Kita didn’t think it was out of sympathy for him, which although thoughtful was unnecessary, but more so because the year was ending and life doesn’t stop for one girl.

His unread texts to her were buried beneath other texts with his family, friends, and teammates. Her book remained on his bookshelf, with the pale blue bookmark saving her place. Eventually the scent of peaches stopped reminding him of her. He bought mint gum and finished the pack.

His number didn’t change, nor did his address.

One time Miya Atsumu asked about her after practice. It wasn’t even a question directed at Kita, but instead towards Ojiro.

“Did we ever find out what happened to-?”

“Her family moved away.” Ojiro answered, glancing at Kita, who didn’t look away from the ball he was wiping off.

“Do we know where?”

“I think I heard someone mention Tokyo once.”

“Did she ever reach out to ya, Kita-san?”

Kita ignored the smack on the arm Ojiro gave the older twin.

“No.”

“But y’all were close, weren’t ya?”

Ojiro hissed at him to shut up. Kita shrugged.

“She knows where I am.”

Miya Atsumu never brought her up after that.

(And I know where to look)

It was unexpected, seeing her on the court.

She sat on the ground, fiddling with a large, fancy camera in her lap. Another girl stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder and watching. The Nekoma team’s captain was standing in front of her, laughing.

She looked the same, from where he stood. He imagined that she would think the same of him.

A low whistle speared the air behind him. “No way. Is that…?” Kita hummed in favor of a response. “What’s she doin’ here?”

He didn’t have an answer to Ojiro’s question.

He looked away.

It didn’t surprise him to find her lurking in the hallways outside the bathroom just before the Inarizaki team was set to start warming up; if he’d spotted her, then she must have spotted him and remembered his little routine prior to the start of a game. It just felt better to begin playing with clean hands.

Her camera wasn’t with her, and there was a hollow, sorrowful expression on her face. She met his eyes for a moment, and then looked back at the ground.

She didn’t say anything.

Kita tried to ignore what felt like a thousand snakes moving around in his stomach upon being so close to her again. He hadn’t ever consciously thought about it until that moment: he’d missed her.

“Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World.”

“I still have your book.”

And she still smelled like peaches.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 15: PAINFUL RE:BAKE Translations

budding spring | dream catcher | painful re:bake | crossing paths new color stage

last updated: 20/9/2024

Picaresque, Again

Portrait / Keiku Karashina

Fake Remnants

Acting As Actors

Rekindling The Flame

Breaking Out Of The Shell

The Things At Your Disposal

Easy To Understand Taste

Bring On The Risk

Best Shot Update

Taking Your Voice Into Account

The Place Where I'm Needed

Make Blossom

Pre-Planned Etude

Gathering Clues

Expose Yourself

Surprise Scout

The Fate of Ashes

Taichi Nanao, the Actor

That's A Wrap

Sugarless Boy

"Never Again" One More Time

Harm Caused By Talent

The Things You Have To Do

A Place To Belong And A Spark To Light That Fire

The Feelings Put Into A Bare-Handed Fight

Memories of Nachi

Unforgettable Pain

Re:Formative Experience

Picaresque Returns

Re:High Five

Wolves

Even If It's A Failure,

daily inste posts (links lead to twitter)

Guy-N

Itaru-Chigasaki

9mon-baseball

Tenma.S-621

Tsum-Tsuki

M.U.

[winter-spark]

Starting you off with some of my worst earliest a3! writing so hopefully you won't think this is as poorly written as it actually is.

Setting: SSR Fam, Konomi's wedding reception - Konomi pov (mid conversation because I thought this segment was better)

Itaru went red and started choking on his drink. Konomi rolled her eyes and rubbed his back but honestly she wanted to laugh.

"I–We're not together!"

"You're not?" She leaned on her hand. How much could she make him squirm? "Coulda fooled me."

"How?! Two people playing a couple on stage," and off-stage, "doesn't just make them a couple. Do you know how many relationships an actor would be in?"

Konomi shrugged and looked in her glass. "Not because you guys played a couple, either time, I just have eyes, Itaru."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He loosened his tie, face still red, "That we looked like a couple when we weren't acting like one or something? Because that's just silly."

Konomi finished off the rest of her drink. "You know Itaru, for someone who's trying to convince me there's not a romance between you two, you still haven't said that you don't like him that way."

"I–It's not that– I just–" he sighed, "I wish I could reload this conversation."

"Sorry, Life includes an autosave feature, no going back." Konomi sat back in her seat as Itaru slumped in his. "Then it's safe to assume you have no plans on confessing?"

"And ruin a good thing?" He gave a short hollow laugh. "Yea no. That'd be NG."

Konomi wished she knew to look for signs of a possible crush when she'd met Citron. There was warmth and love but she couldn't pin from memory if there were any hints of romantic feelings. "Feels like a high risk, high reward mission huh?"

"One I think I'll leave on the mission board."

"I see… Well, can I offer a little advice?"

"You're going to anyway…"

"If you ever do take on that mission, and he doesn't feel the same way, he still very clearly loves you as a person. They all do. You won't have to shut down and isolate yourself."

Itaru was quiet. He looked away. "Didn't you say you'd ask the kitchen staff for a way to wrap this up?"

"Right, 'cause you're looting my wedding." Konomi joked as she stood up. "I'll go see."

"Konomi."

She paused and waited. She started to turn towards him but stopped when he said

"Thank you."

“No problem,” Konomi smiled and continued forth. He didn't always show his gratitude towards her. So she was always glad he has recently. She could feel it, he really did appreciate her. And as a big sister, that was honestly all she could want from him.

What if I used this post to share snippets I've written? Would that be cool?

Even if I never post some of the things as like finished fics or anything I've written I'm really eager to share just about all of it. I'm just a very insecure writer lol

To make it more palatable for the dashboard, I'll reblog it from here each time and use a keep-reading link to hide it. If that's something anyone would want to see I suppose.

[cyren-myadd]

Quaritch vs the consequences of his own actions

Click for better quality!

In all seriousness, I think something vaguely similar to this may happen in A3. I've seen people throwing around the idea of recom-Quaritch getting a redemption arc, and while I don't think that's ENTIRELY impossible, I still struggle to see how it could happen with everything he's done as his own entity, even if you don't blame him for the crimes of human-Quaritch. Like, I know he didn't order Neteyam to get shot, but that death is still on him, you know? I don't think he could ever reconcile with Jake and the rest of the Na'vi after Neteyam.

BUT I also know that James Cameron is ✨cooking✨ something with this big blue asshole, otherwise he wouldn't have had Spider save him. Plus, I've seen that leaked script! Quaritch is definitely not gonna keep fighting for the RDA, and will probably turn against them at some point. So instead of switching sides because he pulled a Jake and genuinely realized the RDA is in the wrong, he's gonna switch sides for purely selfish reasons, namely, Spider. Like, he's gonna fight on the "good" side, but he'll still be a huge asshole. I for one can't wait to see his character development wherever it goes!

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] Event | Devil Maid’s Holiday | Episode 4

Izumi: What’s up, Sakuya-kun?

Sakuya: The costume that Yuki-kun made is what led to us getting this performance offer, so…

Sakuya: How about we develop the story for the performance based on the costumes?

Yuki: So you’re saying the costumes should come before the story?

Sakuya: Yeah.

Izumi: I see… That could be a good idea. Let’s give that a try this time.

Azami: That ain’t a bad idea. The offer was originally made to Yuki-san, and this way, he can make whatever he wants.

Muku: That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see how the costumes and story turn out…!

Yuki: You’re all overreacting. …But, whatever, I’ll try my best.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yuki: (Planning the costumes first, and then coming up with the story for the performance, huh…)

Yuki: Hmm…

*Knock on door*

Yuki: Come in.

*Door opens*

Sakuya: Sorry to bother you. We know you’re working hard, Yuki-kun.

Muku: Arisu-san made some tea. If you want, why don’t you take a break?

Yuki: (…I guess there’s no point in worrying about it anymore.)

Yuki: Sure, I’ll come and join you.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yuki: Whoa, that sure is a lot of good-looking sweets you’ve got set out.

Homare: Ah, Yuki-kun, come join us.

Homare: I hear you’ve been working hard. Come now, have some tea.

Yuki: Thanks. …Mhm, it’s good.

Homare: I’m glad you think so. Have some sweets, as well. We’ve got cookies today.

Yuki: This is kinda a weird group of people. I usually think of Azu-nee being part of this kinda thing.

Homare: That is because we’re having a special tea party today.

Yuki: Special?

Sakuya: Well, we heard from Tenma-kun that you’ve been holed up in your room for a while now, Yuki-kun, so… We got a little worried.

Muku: While we were talking about that, Arisu-san suggested that we have a tea party as a way for you to take a breather.

Yuki: That’s why? You didn’t have to do that, it’s not like I’m super stuck or anything.

Yuki: It’s just that I usually look to the script when coming up with costumes, so now that I’ve got to figure out what to do with the costumes first… I’m just a little lost.

Homare: What sort of thing are you envisioning making now?

Yuki: Well, the costume I originally made was based on a maid uniform and designed to be worn by a female idol.

Yuki: But I was thinking that if we’re going to be acting in them, it might be better to have them be a combination of devil maids and butlers.

Muku: Devil maids and butlers… That alone kind of brings the story to life!

Sakuya: It certainly fits the vibe of Halloween.

Yuki: That said, I’m stuck on which designs to go with. The theme is the theme, so they should be easy to make, but.

Homare: Maids and butlers is a splendid idea. By all means, feel free to include me when considering the casting.

Yuki: Right, you’ve played a butler before, haven’t you, Arisu? You’ve definitely got the vibes of one.

Yuki: And the way you were making tea just now really made you look butler-ish…

Yuki: …!

Yuki: I took the maid uniforms pretty much completely in the cute direction, so I made the butler designs more ornate to prevent them from becoming too chic…

Yuki: Okay, now I’m kinda getting an idea.

Sakuya: That’s great…! If that’s the case, then why don’t you also come up with the casting, Yuki-kun?

Yuki: The casting too?

Sakuya: Yeah. It was actually what Homare-san said that made me think of it.

Sakuya: I’m sure it’d be easier for you to envision things if you know who’s playing the role, right?

Yuki: Oh, yeah, that might be a good idea.

Yuki: I’m planning on making things that anyone can wear, but I should be able to come up with something tentative… I’ll give it a shot.

Sakuya: Great!

Homare: However, wouldn’t it be difficult for you to draw things up all on your own? It seems like you have a shorter time period than you usually do.

Yuki: What’s the big deal now? I’ve done this plenty of times before. I’ll just set my dumb dog onto things if I need to.

Yuki: I’ll show you guys the rough sketches once I have them just to see if I’m headed in the right direction.

Sakuya: But the costumes themselves must be challenging enough, so we’ll help with whatever else.

Muku: Yeah, we’ll do whatever we can to help!

Yuki: Thanks, that’d be helpful.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] [ 🕸️ ] [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[stardustpr1ncess]

Desperately trying to get the words out in order to articulate why I really don't like what they did with Arcane season 2 but, I just keep wanting to say "not good." Like at one point I audibly yelled; "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" but not in an amazed way, in a really fucking annoyed way. May break it up into multiple posts because this is taking longer to process than the other acts.

So... I guess the most encompassing problem is the scope just became WAY too big. The first season, despite having Lean that can turn you into a giant purple monster and magic-powered weapons, was very grounded in its #1 plot #2 locations and #3 characters. Let's discuss what season 2 did with each of these categories.

"The" plot. There's too many of them at this point, barely related to each other, and not enough fucks to go around for each one. The main plot however, would I guess be Viktor and the Glorious Evolutions™.

Firstly the floating in space shots to represent his conciseness connected to everyone's and how he's so ascended looks stupid and boring. Just straight up, they're silly to look at. Secondly the concept that he's now using some unknowable cosmic power to make all life a hive mind that will infect and destroy the planet along with turn everyone into the coolest looking mannequin is just so... WHY?! Like if I told you that's the s2 a3 climax 3 years ago you'd spit in my face (would not wipe it towards my mouth like Caitlyn tho that absolute horndog). The show was a political dispute between an oppressed city who wanted independence from a really wealthy and powerful city. Now it's for the sake of not only the world but like, EVERY REALITY NOW?!

Gonna try to make the other 2 points quicker but fuck there's so much going on.

Locations. Season 1 had Zaun, Piltover, and essentially just mentions of Noxus. Season 2 we have MULTIPLE DIMENSIONS MOTHERFUCKERS WOOOOOOOOO! Look I'm sorry if these points are articulated a lot worse than my prior essays but I'm running out of ways to say it's dumb because it's stupid lol. Within 7 episodes after the (probable) start of a civil war between 2 cities... There's now an infinite number of realities. Just the most insane stake raising they could've done, with a season not even 10 episodes long.

Too many characters for this post so again I'll focus on Viktor since he's now the main antagonist and, protagonist? Him being the wizard that saves Jayce, along with EVERY Jayce in EVERY reality, is simply something that did not need part of the budget put towards it. Genuinely just, the wizard did not need fleshing out. The multiverse in a contained 2 season show did not need to be this crucial last second. This is like if Optimus Prime showed up in season 3 of Avatar, it's just so pointless and diminishing of the story that came before.

So yeah needless to say, I thought this season was terrible. But hey, I'll probably buy the steelbook anyway.

Thank you for reading.