can i request some hak x yona smut since the next volume is coming out tomorrow? i'm so excited & i love your work!!
notes: hi dear
anon! thank you so much for requesting and i’m glad you like my work! i did want to get this done for you today to acknowledge your excitement for the next volume but i admit i totally just scrapped this together because i’m just a tad
busy tonight! so this is a little shorter than you would probably like, but
hopefully you find this still to your liking!
Just as Yona expected, Hak is very good with his tongue—and he
doesn’t need honey to prove it.
Sometimes, by the end of the day, the drafty attic was too cold to spend the night in, so she lay by the dying embers of the hearth to keep warm.
It was three in the morning and you had finally finished all the work for the day, standing at the doorway looking up at the climb to your ‘temporary’ room the tower never looked cold and dark. Glancing back over to the low burning embers you decided that keeping warm was more important than sleeping on the pitiful excuse you had for a bed. Pulling an old round pillow you settled down for the night. Enjoying the warmth coming from the fireplace as it lulled you to sleep.
The shrill ringing of the servant’s bells woke you suddenly. Rolling around you snapped up wide away as your stepfamily called you up for the day.
“I thought breakfast was ready?” Madam said as she shuffled into the dining room. You looked up from your position,
“It is madam, I’m only mending the fire,” you said scrubbing the bottom, finishing your last job.
This is a collaboration with the beautiful @hifftn. A wonderful anon requested a speacial story. I wrote something fluffy and Jazz wrote something smutty. This was so much fun to write and I hope that it made you smile.
The large room is dark and drafty, only illuminated by the neon blue glow of the small LCD screen. Her breath is heavy as sweat drips down her temple while she considers her options. The chatter from her radio is distracting her, so she turns it off. 1:45 1:44 1:43 The countdown is not stopping and there is no time to call for backup. She could run, if she left now she may even get out of the blast zone alive and unharmed. But there is no way she is leaving behind a scared little girl tied to the bomb. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts she pulls out her knife and begins sawing into the thick ropes. One rope gone, two to go……..two gone, one more….. 0:33 0:32 0:31 “Come on, come on!” Finally the last rope brakes free, dropping the blade she grabs the girl and runs as fast as she can push her willowy legs. Diving behind a large pillar on the other side of the room, she covers the small screaming child with her own body. ‘Somehow, one of us has to make it out of here alive.’
She feels it before she hears it. The blast creates a deafening boom that causes them both to scream out. Afterwards she hears nothing…. nothing but the constant ringing in her head. The building shakes and searing heat brushes against her back. She curls more tightly around the child as they both try to scream, but the wind created by the blast blows away their air, leaving them gasping. Dust and debris swirls around them and the ground feels unstable.
She can feel the pillar starting to collapse, not knowing where the strength comes from, she picks up the girl and runs toward the exit. Every step sends a jolting pain up her legs and into her back. Her lungs burn and her arms feel heavy from exhaustion as she carries the limp child close to her body. Disoriented, she stumbles along until she finally sees a light… too bright… it hurts to look at it. Somehow, she knows that this means safety. She can see a shadow of people in the light making their way to her, but the ground becomes wobbly and unstable. When one of the shadows gets close enough she thrusts the child into the light as the ground falls out from below her. The last thing she sees is his beautiful face reaching for her with the child in tow. She smiles as the darkness swallows her whole.
i just finished watching WataMote, and, like after I watched Evangelion, I’d like to share thoughts
I remember when I was a self-conscious, jealous little shit who blamed everyone else for my problems. When Tomoko tried to be stoic in hopes that someone would find that interesting, and found that no one even looked at her, I just started bawling when she teared up, like fuck. I remember being there: sitting alone constantly, eating lunch in a bathroom stall, hating everyone for being adjusted, and it just hurt me to relive that. I’m not like Tomoko anymore, I love myself and I find being social so much easier, but this show filled me with sadness because I wished I could tell her that she’s not alone, and that she isn’t hopeless. I remember having that terrible mindset where you feel like everyone is stupid and shallow, wanting something special to happen to you with no work on your part. I’m on my way to being an English teacher now, and I want to be there for kids like her. There were also those moments where she met people who were kind to her but she didn’t hold onto them. When you project your negativity onto other people, you don’t realize the wonderful things you have… I got really nostalgic, too, when she met that nice older girl during the cultural festival who wanted to be there for her. I’m glad I have those memories of kindness, even though at the time they meant nothing to me; I’d always revert to a place of numbness. I’ll never forget the girl who kissed me at a Christmas party, when I was alone. She made me feel beautiful. Now, years later, in my place of self-love, I will always be thankful to her for giving that to me, even though I don’t know her name. Those moments where someone you don’t even know shows you kindness. They’re indescribable. I want to be that person for others, I don’t want to watch someone fall into a pit. No one deserves to be stuck like Tomoko, even if she is jealous and judge-mental. She isn’t a bad person, she’s growing up. That shit is tough, homie
Anyways, p good show, watch it if you like dark comedies and realistic female characters in yer anime
Alright so since it’s Captain Swan AU Week, I’ve felt inspired to go back and re-edit this a bit. I wrote it back in December I believe? I don’t know but this was supposed to be the first of an Anastasia inspired AU that I just never got around to continuing and I’m not sure if I will. Regardless.. Here it is! I haven’t written fan fiction in years so I’m sure it’s a bit rusty so apologies in advance!
The castle was alive with cheer and splendor. Everywhere the young princess looked, decorations were being put up, fires stoked to keep the drafty halls warm against the cold snow falling outside. Blonde curls swayed and bounced as Emma skipped along the ornate tile, her heels clicking and echoing down the hall. She smiled at everyone she saw, wishing them a merry christmas. It was her favorite time of the year. To her, the castle came alive, red and golds and greens as far as the eye could see, pleasant faces and distant relatives visiting from far off places. In fact, her family fell into that category. Every year, she’d spend the winter months with her Aunt Elsa, Queen of Arendelle. She wasn’t truly her aunt, but her mother was extremely close to woman and her sister, thus, Emma had known them her entire life.
Despite the fact that she’d stay here every year for three months straight, her mother and father were forced to take trips back home for a week or two, having to handle business back in their own land, Mist Haven. Snow White and Prince Charming were the most kindhearted and benevolent rulers Mist Haven had ever known, after years spent under the rule of the evil queen, the two of them overthrew her and took their rightful place as leaders. Emma hated it when she would be forced to part from her family for weeks, but Elsa, Anna, and her husband Kristoff always made sure she was well taken care of, offering plenty of distractions. Emma however, found distractions of her own, always being one to let her curiosity get the best of her. The six year old was currently making her way towards the servant’s quarters, intent on finding one of her so called distractions.
The moment I saw that new Stonefox had surfaced late last week, I knew we were in for a magnificent treat. Sure enough, the Melbourne indie trio take us to great heights of transcendental ecstasy with their ambient pop, as they’ve done many times over in the past. Dreamstate is a perfectly named beauty. Its cool drifting, drafty mellow soundscape is the agile handiwork of producer Jean-Paul Fung, who’s worked with the likes of Snakadaktal and Last Dinosaurs in the past. Dreamstate is serene yet stirring, a sublimely entrancing song.
I’m wary of wearing
my well-worn jeans
because the worn places seem
likely (most) soon to split at the seam
Warning would be wise before wear-
“Ware of wearing when worn threads break free-
Sudden exposure risk: assume drafty
means drastically increased visibility…”
Cheeky bum trousers, they be-
to dare incur such brazen abrupt baring!
So … I had a good birthday. Had some anxiety, but other than that had a good birthday. And I have to say …. I’m absolutely overwhelmed by my bestie who got me this for my birthday.
She didn’t have to get me anything at all, I mean we live an entire country away from each other, we haven’t even met in real life, but every time I need her she’s there for me. When I have anxiety, no matter what she’s doing or going through she’s always there for me, and I couldn’t ask for a better person in my life!
And the thing I love most about her is she listens …. Unlike me cause I’m horrible at that. She got me a blanky because I complained it was cold in my room all the time during the winter because it’s -50F outside and my rooms in a basement with a drafty window.
Honestly, you know who you are! You didn’t have to do this, and you don’t have to do anything that you do for me, but I appreciate every moment of it. Now I’m going to stop being sappy and get back to writesing!!!!
And I’m not telling anyone who it is cause she knows who she is and no ones allowed to steal my Squeeby from me!
"Where d'ye even find this sort o' thin'?” (TAJ AND ARELIAN HAVE NEVER ACTUALLY MET SO THIS'LL PROBABLY BE WEIRD and no obligations 2 actually write 8D;)
(IT’S NOT WEIRD SHUT UP THEY’LL MEET SOON I BET)
“This?” He utters over a table crowded with mugs. At the center sits a rod capped with a jewel and the jewel shines with a light that seems to flicker and dim, guttering like some sort of torch in a drafty cave. A shoulder lifts, a shoulder falls.
“There’s no sweeping tale, I’m sad to say. There’s no elegance, nor majesty nor princess to be saved.” Arelian glances up, hands lifted with palms outward as he quickly says: “Or prince, mind you. Equal opportunity damsels.” Clearing his throat, his sluggish gaze falls to the rod, surrounded by mugs.
“You find this sort of thing as a gift. A thing left behind from those who’ve left and want to do you well. Almost tragic, really.”
A breath heaves into his lungs, a breath exhales from his lungs. Looking like he’s about to speak; But instead a mug is lifted and downed in a single go.
Home. The memory was a scattered one, a mosaic of mismatched edges that didn’t really fit in any discernible order. He remembered rickety old floorboards and drafty windows. There was a feverish warmth of frail, slender fingers resting limply in his palm, and the Soldier couldn’t quite recall why that made him so sad.
He’d been left, misplaced in the chaos of a mission, and too injured to find his way back on his own. The Soldier didn’t know how far the river he’d fallen in had carried him, but the impetus to return to his makers was less solid than it had been. Like scratching at a lottery ticket, he was drawn to the mystery underneath, pulling him…somewhere else.
Maybe it was dumb luck that the Soldier washed up on a riverbank he was sure he knew, though he couldn’t recall having been there. Disoriented and aching, the Soldier sat up, looking at the skyline that rose behind him. Brooklyn, his mind supplied, though he couldn’t recall having been here either.
Lemme tell you. I wanna grab him and drive forty hours to Alaska in the mountains to some ugly small cabin with a chimney and a shitty TV and antique snowshoes (too big, and we trip face first into powdery snow over and over again). Old quilts and boiling hot chocolate packets, and runs to the gas station ten miles away, (the old man who owns it always disapproves, shakes his head when we giggle high over cans of chicken soup and Goldfish). Weed in the morning, tobacco in a pipe and whiskey in mugs throughout the day. The fire pit takes a while to tinker with– for a few weeks, our marshmallows taste like kerosene– but once we crack it we hunker down in front of it for ages. Sex is goofy; the cabin is drafty and the mattress always squeaks, so suffice it to say there are many sunrises enjoyed from the kitchen floor in a nest of blankets like we’re some raggy kids in a pillow fort.
Here’s a dumb problem– the metal cross that he refuses to take off always freezes to his neck when we get lost in endless pine and snow, so he takes to wearing one of my pink woolly scarves with Pom poms at the end (it was a gift!). I tell him it’s his color. He tells me that because his Dick is so Huge he feels obligated to masculinity to even things out and Save a lil Pussy for the other guys. I tell him I like the Pom poms. I say he can keep it. He paints a rock with a dumb smiley face as a gift in return, because I’m always complaining that the cabin has no real decoration (aside from stuffed elk heads above the couch), and he thought it could brighten things up. I put it on our bedside table.
I take to painting on the roof. One night we splurge on champagne and slip around drunk and immune to the cold beneath acres and acres of constellations. Occasionally we fight. The worst lasted 24 hours only because he took the Ford and drove off and got lost and overtired and swears in a fit of delirium and emotion he saw a bison and thought it was the Nature Goddess. Burned his way through a tank of gas. Looked like a lost little kid soaked in snow, I swear, something about that boy, it felt like a hole in my chest. When he came back I held him for a few hours while the Wizard of Oz played statically, and made fluff sandwiches, and stroked his hair.
He takes long hikes and photographs the sky and one afternoon we drive our truck farther east than usual and find a gorge where he honest to god ice fishes (and catches something on the third day, after bein a stubborn bastard about it). I teach him to whittle. I teach him to throw knives. He shows me how to hold a gun and hunt, but mainly I like to watch him do it. One time we drive four hours north to where everything is glassy, blue-tinged, and looks like frosted cake. We drink green tea in thermoses. We see the aurora borealis. I don’t know. I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried. I drove home that morning with him sleeping in the passenger seat and thanked God thank you God, that I had that moment, that I held his hand, in exactly that moment when he was exactly that person. He was wearing this gray beanie. That boy. The whole ride home I couldn’t stop looking at him; his plaid, his pink-tipped nose, the very blue sky.