This is a writing blog for fanfiction, however, I do write other short stories and one shots that don't link to any fandom.
I don't post fics that often as I struggle a lot with writers block and motivation, but incentives do help (incentives like specifically requesting/asking me to write something lol. Not money)
I am open to dm's, asks and requests. Never hesitate to reach out to me, because I love talking to people but suck at initiating conversations.
Personally I hate AI because it uses slave labor, is killing the planet and is making people stupid, but that's just me. The soulless art aspect is just one little piece of my grander disdain.
wait how does AI use slave labor? Do you mean the human works that are stolen and not credited or compensated? Because technically under capitalism everything is exploited but there are varying degrees
Aside from the scraping, AI tech companies, including openAI/chatGPT, have outsourced training their models to countries in the global south, specifically Kenya in openAI's case. These workers are working in sweatshop conditions for less than 2 bucks USD per hour. I'm on mobile, but if you search 'openAI Kenya slave labor' and related keywords, you can find multiple articles about it.
People say about Gen AI ''well its going to be basically in every game in the next few years so get used to it" like, no... do you have any idea how stubborn I am? I will never play another new game in MY LIFE if that is the case. There are plenty of old ones I missed. "Oh what about books and TV?" SAME. I do not care. I will stop consuming new media forever if GenAI is going to be in everything.
Yes, This is absolutely the hill I will die on (AND WE WILL ALL DIE ON IF COMPANIES DONT STOP PUSHING AI AND BUILDING FUCKING DATA CENTERS EVERYHERE FUCK)
âžâžâž đđđđđđ and touch starved!reader
nanami is not a clingy man. he never has been.
in a relationship, heâs measured with affection in a way thatâs intentional, never careless. he shows love in structure and reliability.
he walks you home even when itâs out of his way, remembers your favorite things, things you mention only once. he reminds you to eat when youâre busy and stressed. knows or exact orders.
you, on the other hand, have always wanted to be closer to people.
youâve wanted the hugs, the leaning, the casual warmth of being allowed into someoneâs space. youâve watched friends and couples do it so easilyâarms looped, hands intertwined, shoulders pressed together.
you wondered what it would feel like not to hesitate every time.
the want has always been there but youâve never acted on it. ever. not with your family. not with your friends.
youâre awkward. you overthink. your body always manages to freeze even when your heart says go.
youâre touch starved. so what? itâs all youâve ever known. but definitely not because you donât want it. you just⊠never know how to reach for it.
youâre clingy. only in your head.
and nanami kento made it worse for you. your want for him screams at you louder than bombs.
every time he sat beside you, you felt the pull toward him like gravity. every time he stood too close to your liking, your arms ached with the urge to hug him, to be hugged, just once, just to know what it would feel like.
youâd imagine it vividlyâhis weight, his warmth, the way heâd feel solid under your handsâand then immediately scold yourself for even thinking it.
you stay careful like usual.
too careful.
when he sits next to you during work dinners, you both leave a respectful inch of space between your shoulders, even though every part of you wants to close it. you keep your hands busy.
but at times, you let it slip, forgetting yourself. one hand lifts, hesitates, then falls back into your lap like it forgot what it was reaching for.
your urges never go away with time. they only get worse.
when you start dating?
it doesnât feels real.
being with nanami feels like a dream youâre going to wake up from. you expect the ground to vanish beneath your feet or for him to suddenly tell you thereâs been a mistake. him choosing you feels impossible.
the need hums under everythingâconversations and silence alike. you want to lean onto his shoulder. you want to tuck yourself against his side. you want to hug him and feel him hug you back.
instead, you hover. you angle closer. you daydream the same exact way you did before you started dating. it feels like nothing has changed since he confessed and you confessed back.
youâre terrified heâll notice your odd hesitation. terrified heâll think youâre needy or that heâll think you donât know how to show love at all.
the first time you grab his arm itâs an accident.
youâre walking leisurely in the cold together, conversation tapering off, when that familiar ache swells in your chest. before you can think, your fingers curl into his sleeve and you tug his arm toward you, hugging it to your chest.
and then reality crashes back in.
you freeze. your grip loosens. heat rushes to your face.
âsorry,â you mumble, already pulling away. âi didnât mean to- i justââ
nanami slows.
not flinchingly. not with surprise. just enough that you have to slow too.
he looks down at you, expression calm. not judging or confused. itâs almost like heâs been aware of you all along.
then he gently shifts his arm back into your grasp. settles it there.
âyou donât need to apologize, honey,â he says, the words dripping like the sweetest chocolate. âif you want to hold onto me then please do.â
your breath stutters and you feel too warm despite the cold.
after that, it all becomes a quiet unreal constant.
you hold onto his arm when you walk together. itâs tentative, like youâre testing whether you can really do this or not. you still glance up at him, checking, but he never pulls away. never stiffens.
but still, you always still hesitate. youâre not used to the feeling this comfortable and safe with a person.
when you sit beside him on the couch? you tell yourself youâll wait. give it a minute. be normal. but it never lasts long. youâre always hyperaware of him. so eventually you find yourself leaning into his broad shoulder.
you brace for him to move.
he never does.
sometimes you catch yourself gripping his bicep too tightly, overwhelmed by how good it feels, and you immediately start to pull back.
thatâs when his hand settles over yours.
warm. grounding. unshakable.
he doesnât say anything. he doesnât need to. his thumb traces slow, absent minded circles against your knuckles, like reassurance spoken in a language you finally understand.
being with him still feels like a dream youâre afraid to break.
but kento stays and lets you stay too.
soon enough you learn his hugs are devastating, much like everything about him.
the first real one catches you off guard. youâd meant it to be briefâarms barely around him, already preparing to pull awayâbut he wraps you up properly, one arm firm around your back, the other settling at your shoulder like it belongs there. he holds you close without squeezing or rushing like he assumes youâll stay as long as you need.
you short circuit.
but then youâre melting into him before you can stop yourself. your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like itâs the only solid thing in the world.
his warmth seeps into places you didnât realize were cold as his hand rubs slow circles into your back.
you start finding excusesâlingering goodbyes, quiet moments where you hover close enough that he opens his arms without a word.
he knows you so well it scares you.
each time, it feels like youâre borrowing something youâre afraid will be taken away if you ask for too much.
and somewhere along the way, you realize your touch starvation doesnât stop there.
it spreads.
you start noticing his mouth even more than you did before.
itâs unfair, really. the way his lips curve when he smiles at youâsmall, restrained, meant only for you. the way they part when he exhales, when he speaks quietly, when heâs concentrating. you catch yourself staring far too often, eyes dropping to his mouth before you can stop them.
and want them badly to be on yours.
the realization startles you every time.
your body leans forward before your brain catches up. your gaze lingers a second too long and you have to look away, flustered, heart racing, hoping he hasnât noticed.
but he has.
one evening, youâre sitting close on the couch, supposed to be listening to him talk. your attention keeps slippingâeyes flicking to his mouth, then back up, then down again. each time you tell yourself stop and each time you fail.
nanami pauses mid sentence when it happens for the fifth time.
you look up, startled, only to realize heâs already looking at you. amused.
âare you going to kiss me⊠or should i?â
you freeze, mortified. your mouth opens, then closes. âi- i wasnât! iâm sorry, i didnât mean to stare, i justââ
he shifts closer with a huff.
he lifts a hand, fingers brushing under your chin, just enough to tilt your face toward his.
âyou donât have to apologize,â he says quietly. âi just wanted to know what you wanted.â
you swallow.
the answer feels terrifying and simple all at once.
so you lean inâterribly clumsy and hesitant but there.
more a brush than a kiss at first like youâre testing whether this is real. for half a second, youâre convinced youâve done it wrong.
then nanami hums softly and closes the distance for you.
the kiss is gentle. he keeps it slow, like heâs letting you adjust, letting you realize youâre allowed to want this. his hand stays warm at your jaw, thumb resting lightly near your cheek, steadying you as your body instinctively leans closer.
you sigh into it without meaning to.
you clutch at him, the ache in your chest easing little by little. when he pulls back, itâs only far enough to rest his forehead against yours.
your breath is shaky. your lips tingle.
nanami doesnât tease or rush.
âyou can do that anytime you want.â
and somehow the tender words makes your chest ache all over again.
because youâve wanted this closeness for so long.
18 days without posting anything but iâm backđ writers block and stress has been getting to me. but also i really need to stop wanting men who iâll never have (âŠboth fictional and irl donât get me started)
If anyone is more interested in the work behind the GĂ€vle goat there is apparently a documentary here, mostly in swedish, but what I found most charming is that you can climb into the goat through a door in it's behind.
And if you ever wondered: yes, according to rumors a couple have fucked in the GĂ€vle goat. In 1966 in fact, the first year it was up and before any kind of arson. I don't know why they threw that into the documentary but this goat has layers is all I'm saying.
Uppdate: The link seems dead, here is a drive link with the documentary, now with both swedish and english subtitles :)
Just kinda had a thought of TWST bros following to Yuuâs world (maybe they were sent back by accident but they just think a student got sucked into another book)
And just spawning in their house at random. Imagine being in your kitchen having 3am instant noodles in the dark, then POOF - buncha dudes spawn in arguing. Maybe just the housewardens. I feel like it would be a house warden thing to fix (- kalim + jamil; we all know why)
-
Grim: Mrah? Did we do it? Whereâs my henchman! I canât see nothinâ!
Riddle: Would you calm yourself? We seem to have landed in an enclosed space.
Jamil: *sigh* Everyone remain calm. There has to be a light somewhere.
Idia (Forcibly brought. Was just supposed to help with the spell) : *sniffs* DudesâŠI smell MSG and bad decisionsâŠvery, very bad decisionsâŠeep! Something just brushed my arm!
Vil: *sniffs the air and gags* Ah. Maybe the spell did not work and weâve landed in Ignihydeâs lounge.
Idia: Hey -
Azul: *feeling for a light switch* Impossible. With their security measures weâd be nose-deep in squawking infantiles spewing threats from behind a screen.
Click
The lights turn on. Leona and Malleus are off to the side, both sets of eyes locked onto something behind the squabbling humans. Which makes no sense because if anyone should be fighting itâs those two.
Slurrrrrrrrrp
Yuu *perched on the countertop with a mouth full of noodles and a butter knife held out in defense* : âŠ..
I've been inactive for a whole year almost due to university and some other things happening in my personal life. For that, I'd like to apologise đ
BUT
I am opening my requests back up to get back into writing. Send me an ask and I'll try to deliver <3
Anything is on the table as long as it's Twisted Wonderland! That includes fluff, smut, angst etc. If you have something a little more extreme you want me to write (like dead dove), please DM me first and we can discuss it.
Rules:
I don't write anything for Grimm bc of a personal bias đ€
I will write for staff <3
Other fandoms can also be requested. I like research, so bring it on.
A headcanon for BlueLock that I think is very cute but mostly funny (since I'm rewatching s1):
Y'all know how everyone calls Chigiri princess, young lady, miss etc? Imagine if it's bc they all think Chigiri is mtf but don't wanna outright say it bc they think he's still closeted and they might out him accidentally.
And Chigiri has tried to tell them that he just has long hair and likes being fashionable, but that just makes them think he's like extra in the closet and they all look at him like đđđ
So, Team Z are all just being really, really supportive and trying to make Chigiri feel safe and seen by 'jokingly' refering to him as a young lady. Nothing he says or does will stop it so he just gave up and accepted they think he's a closeted transwoman.
Kind of like when your parents are convinced you're gay bc you aren't married or have a gf yet so they keep trying to hook you up with openly gay guys they think are nice
The dead of night is no stranger to you. Neon lights of stores, flickering lampposts, the blinding headlights of cars rushing around in a desperate bid to get home just even a second sooner⊠these were simply sights you were used to.
Prodding at a puddle pooling in front of you, you deftly hoped over it the best you could, clutching a huge bag closer to your side. It rustles, as if in protest, but it holds together. Not a single shirt within falls out, to your relief.
Youâve gotten good at dragging around loads of clothes. Itâs honestly a good workout, especially when youâve let your laundry sit around for a while. Besides, it provides a good cover for your⊠other clothes.
Blood stands out way too much on cloth, really.
Strolling down the street, you pause in front of a small stall at the side of the road. A old 24/7 laundromat, unstaffed after a certain hour of the night. Frequented by broke college students, single parents and now? A serial killer.
Laughing to yourself softly, you prop your bag of clothes onto your hip, nudging the glass door open. Only to be greeted with a lonely wooden table placed in the certain of the room, some rickety chairs tucked in messily at the side. The washing machines line the walls, open gaping holes like hungry mouths, staring right at you.
Heaving your bag filled with clothes onto the table, your hand slipped into your pocket, digging for loose change. Only for your wallet to slip right out of it, spilling all your coins onto the ground with a deafening clatter.
Muttering a curse, you drop to your knees, fumbling around to pick up those accursed coins. Gathering them pinch by pinch, stuffing them right back into your wallet. While you were crawling on the ground, you heard the rustle of clothing. Someone else, kneeling onto the ground, carefully scooping your coins up.
Glancing up, you come face to face with a pair of mismatched eyes, one a startling yellow, the other a somber ebony. His aquamarine hair curled around the left side of his face, framing his features perfectly. He picks up your coins listlessly, before dropping them into your palm again.
âHere, shrimp. All butterfingered, arenât ya?â
Frowning ever so slightly, you mutter your thanks somewhat reluctantly. Who ever would call someone a shrimp the first time they met them?Well, that annoyance lasted until the man straightened up, his entire build as lengthy as a skyscraper.
Hell, you had to tilt your neck to hold his gaze. Man, this is why everyone was shrimps compared to him. As if he sensed what you were thinking, he reached out to your head, ruffling it loosely.
âThere, there. Donât get too bothered about yaâ height, shrimpy.â
You push his hand off, before scoffing:
âWho said I was? Who do you think you are?â
The man shrugged, before he holds out his hand somewhat limply:
âFloyd Leech. Nice to meet ya, I guess.â
Raising an eyebrow, you return the gesture, shaking his hand firmly.
âDidnât your parents tell you not to talk to strangers?â
That got you a barking laugh from him, as Floyd loaded up a washing machine with his clothes.
âDonât get too full of yourself, shrimp. What can those adorable lilâ butterfingers do?â
âMurder.â
You spoke calmly, before turning and throwing your own clothes into the washing machine. Glancing back, you met Floydâs eyes. He was staring at you somewhat intensely, trying to puzzle out whether there was any truth in your statement.
Chuckling quietly to yourself, you slam the machine shut. That shut him up, didnât it? Although⊠maybe you went a little too far. It wonât be good if anyone started spreading rumours about a killer using this Laundromat. It was really a good one.
You slip right beside Floyd, slotting coins into his machine before he could even take out his wallet. Floyd stares at you, confused. You grin, before patting him playfully on his arm.
âTake it as a thank you for earlier, Floyd!â
Waving at him, you turn around, ready to go back to your machine. When you felt something cold, wrap around your wrist. Something firm. Spinning back, all you saw was Floydâs fingers, gripping your wrist ever so tightly. A vice grip that kept you right next to him.
Yanking your arm away was futile. Where the hell did he get all that strength from? All you could do was growl at him in protest, as he pulled your hand up to his eye-level.
Lowering his head to your fingertips, you could feel his breath against your skin as he⊠sniffed your hand? You grimace at that sudden action, shaking your entire arm frantically in an attempt to get him off you-
âThis is blood, isnât it?â
Blinking, you do your best to pull out a disarming smile as you grin at Floyd nervously, tugging at your trapped arm.
âYeah, cause I was with your mom last night-â
His grip only tightens.
âThis is fresh.â
You frown. Man, this guy wasnât going to let up easily, huh?
âLook, I scratched a mosquito bite a little too hard or something. Lay off, man.â
Floyd regards you with narrowed eyes, a certain spark of mischief flickering within his gaze. The ghost of a smirk danced across his lips, the barest hints of his sharp teeth peeked out of his mouth, a sinister, toothy smile.
âThis ainât yaâ blood, is it?â
Freezing onto the spot, you felt a chill crawl down your spine, settling deep into the base of it, froze crawling all over your skin. You could feel your limbs trembling, shaking like a lone leaf in a storm.
âHow⊠how did you-â
Grinning, Floyd chuckled at your shaking, his laugh dripping with mockery. Pulling you closer, Floyd repositions his hands around your hips, fingernails digging deep into your skin.
âAw, guess you ainât olâ butterfingers after all, shrimpy? Guess I should really call yaâ bloody fingers instead, huh?â
Heaving a sigh, you forced the tension out of your shoulders. Hanging limp under Floydâs hold, you regard him with a cold gaze.
âSo, what are you going to do? Call the cops on me?â
Floyd only laughs, giving your waist an affectionate squeeze.
i have been tagged by the lovely @lauda4theback to share five facts about myself. A nice distraction and an opportunity to share so thank you <3
1. I got a concussion when I was like 5 years old, I fell off a climbing frame (in a park named after JFK) and landed on my back/head. This was treated with (free) ice-cream and calpol :) oh and that thing in movies where someone wakes up and there's a circle of people around them, 100% accurate
2. I have a scar from where I lost a fight with a plant :( that shit was as sharp as a knife, do not mess with reeds kids
3. My uncle was a rally driver here in Ireland, he was alright
4. I can't read or watch Black Beauty without crying, idk what it is about that particular story but it is guaranteed I will end in tears, it's actually so bad that Lloyd's bank ads get me weepy
5. My dad appears to be cursed to be unable to catch fish, to the point that an entire village of fishermen refused to take him on their boats because he's cursed. The evidence for this was that repeatedly any boat he was on wouldn't catch fish while other boats right beside them would. I witnessed this myself when I went out fishing with him once. I am not cursed, I caught fish, he didn't.
no pressure tagging @f1-disaster-bi @vespercat @rockingpeeble @nico-di-genova @no00000000 and anyone else who feels like it <3
1. My older sister knew I was pansexual before I did and had to explain to me that no, thinking everyone is hot and fuckable regardless of sex and gender isn't something straight people do.
2. One of my favourite words is ameliorate. Which means to improve something bad and make it good. I learnt this word when I encountered ameliorist in a short story. Today, an ameliorist is someone wanting to change the world and humanity for the better. But the short story referred to a much older use of the word; when it literally just meant someone like a cosmotologist. Someone who improves on another person's looks. To ameliorate someone's appearance.
3. I used to play the guitar as a child but lost interest when my teacher kept flaking on me and our lessons.
4. I'm a practicing helenist and my patron deity is Hades. I am very devout to Aidoneus and Hekate, but pay equally high respect towards Persephone.
5. One of my favourite desserts to get at a restaurant is a warm chocolate brownie with some vanilla ice cream.
