#nat reviews

[quiveringdeer]

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Gaaaaaaaah Kendy I've missed reading your writing!!! I needed this lil pick me up so bad!!

"Everything about you makes him feel…inexplicable." -I dunno why but this sentence really touched me.

Also calling him Ten! And him just being drawn your way! Casually asking Deku about you and Mirio? Him being part of the group hangouts!!!!!! my heart is so full!!

This is an ending I can get behind! Izuku would find a way to save him damn it 😤 And he'd get to find out how life can be so much better 🥹

Thank you for writing and sharing with us! 🧡🧡🧡🧡

bnha ending fix it fic. healing!tomura who goes by tenko x f!reader. reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is referred to using the nickname sparkles. | word count: 2.3k reading time: 8 minutes

When a knock echoes through your small apartment, you’re up and running to the door before you are even oriented enough to figure out what’s going on.

You fell asleep at your desk. Again. Probably slumped over halfway through the last audit you vaguely remember working on which was for the Ingenium agency. It’s easy to lose track of time when you spend it stapled to your tablet and work bench, fretting over how to make the country you now call home safer. 

A second knock rings and you groan softly, stepping toward the door as fast as you can in a half awake and partially dressed state. Your tank top straps sag off of your shoulders, one of your socks has disappeared but there’s no time to search for it.

The door is in view. You twist the lock to unlatch it, pulling the door open. Blinking to adjust your eyes, they widen before you can think.

“Tenko?”

The dark haired man stands in front of you, clad in a hooded sweatshirt and dark colored sweatpants indicating he likely just got off patrol alongside Deku. There’s still around 6 months until he’s released from the fellow hero’s watchful eyes to act on his own though the prior 6 passed far more quickly than he expected. It turns out this hero stuff isn’t so bad.

He won’t meet your eyes, hands shoved into his pockets, obviously chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“Are you okay?” You ask in a rush, opening the door wider to invite him in. 

His eyes further avert their gaze toward something that must be very interesting on the corner of your building. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, awkwardly. 

“I, uh…is this a bad time?”

Shaking your head, you wave your hand over the space created so that he can enter the practical hovel you call home. He doesn’t look at you while he slips inside, careful not to touch you in any way as he passes, practically melding with the wall. 

“I hate to ask again since clearly you aren’t,” you begin once his back has turned and he’s slowly started making his way toward your workbench stationed in the living room. “But are you okay? Did something happen?”

There’s no response for a beat. The man clears his throat, looking over his shoulder before quickly averting his face forward again. 

“You’re…I thought maybe I interrupted something since you’re barely dressed.”

You look down to realize you’re wearing nothing on your lower half but your scandalously small underwear. There’s no sense in making a big deal out of it so you shrug although he can’t see it, padding back into the main living area to join him. 

“I mean, I was asleep but you didn’t interrupt that because I would have been up in a little bit anyway.”

Stopping, you take a moment to admire the outline of him illuminated by your desk lamp, the strenuous routine required by a hero clearly doing him some good as far as you can tell. His hair is healthy, his frame is broad, and he turns his face to look over his shoulder at you once again. 

“I’m alright though.”

Smiling at his confirmation that everything is as it should be, you pick your pace back up and slide into your stool while he leans against the side of your bench. You engage your quirk, Magnetism, as a reflex and a stray bolt sticks to your arm. 

The faintest hint of a smile comes across his face, now turned downward in your direction. You disengage your quirk with a sigh, the sound of metal dropping back down to metal accompanying it. The screen on your tablet lights up when you look down at it, the time across it in large white numbers. 

2:15 AM.

“I can see why you were worried you’d interrupted something, these are booty call hours after all.” 

You joke, twisting back and forth on the stool and looking up at him through your lashes. 

“So are you here for business or pleasure, Entropy?”

He’s too used to that look, full of appraisal and perhaps a bit of interest, but he never wants to read too much into it. Especially not right now while you’re scantily clad, an eyeful of what lies under your shirt no more than a simple shift in glance away, and indiscriminately running your mouth.

Tenko looks away, cheeks warming. Hands that were buried deep in his pockets are now tucked into the crook of the opposite arm where they’re folded over his chest. 

He has visited your apartment multiple times since the first night he formally met you at Izuku’s. The pair of heroes stop by when they’re in the neighborhood or come by to chat if they’re off patrol, usually being joined by Deku’s girlfriend if she can be pulled away from her clinical studies for long enough to come and giggle for a couple hours. 

“I had some issues with my gear tonight and wanted to have you look at it.”

It’s the worst excuse possible but it’s the best one he could come up with on the fly. 

“Oh. You should’ve just said so,” you continue to mutter to yourself while unlocking your tablet. 

Truthfully, he has no idea why he’s here. Some pull in his chest told him to go the opposite direction when walking home to clear his head so he followed it, landing right at your doorstep and standing outside of the door, too anxious to knock, for longer than he’d ever admit. 

Scrolling through the diagnostics app, you gnaw at your bottom lip and jiggle your sockless foot. You squint at the screen because he knows you need glasses and don’t have them on, probably due to the abruptness of his visit. There are all these little things about you that become impossible to ignore when it’s just the two of you.

“Ah! There you are. Let’s see.” You excitedly sing, while wiggling your fingers. He watches with a smile, so soft he may even just be imagining the feeling of it in his facial muscles.

Everything about you makes him feel…inexplicable. 

The unfortunate truth that he doesn’t know how to face is that your place has become one he associates with safety and warmth, something the grown man four years your senior fears he’ll always seek out no matter how distant Tomura becomes from who he is now. 

Tonight wasn’t a hard night but he didn’t want to be alone, pacing until adrenaline finally slowed down and let him sleep.

How unlike him. 

You hum and continue to orate to yourself, squinting at charts he couldn’t even pretend to get. How you manage to do all of this, accurately, safely, and without breaking a sweat, is truly amazing. 

“It says everything is fine. Can you tell me what issues you were having?” 

Sitting up, you fold your arms over your chest and swing back and forth on the stool. He watches you turn small half circles, realizing he may have been caught. Smiling up at him, you raise a brow. 

“My wrist cuffs felt tighter than usual I guess but that might not be an issue you can fix,” he mumbles, trying to explain himself in any way that he can to cover his lie. 

Rather than torture him by forcing him to dig this little hole he’s found himself in deeper, you change the subject. 

“Have you eaten tonight?” You ask, brow quirked. 

He shakes his head. It was a busy shift and he doesn’t have a lovely girlfriend at home to make bentos with him like Deku does and he managed all evening on the half assed late lunch he packed for himself that was mostly made up of the type of shit he used to eat when he was still Tomura. It’s hard to learn to take care of yourself. 

“Alright. Let me see what I can find to make.” 

You stand, walking into the kitchen. Glancing over your shoulder, it’s hard not to get caught up in how intimate this feels. Your face warms and so does your belly, floored by how handsome Tenko really is in that low light that envelops his profile. 

There’s no way your work would’ve failed him tonight. It means too much that it works well

“Next time, come up with a better excuse. Or just text me and tell me you wanna come over.”

You confirm that he has been caught, literally and figuratively. He debates showing himself the exit but instead follows you into the kitchen. There’s no point in backing away now. His heavy footsteps echo after yours while you dig through the fridge and continue to hum, bopping your head along to a completely made up song. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Glancing over your shoulder while pulling out a carton of tofu, you nod at his question. He keeps his eyes as averted as he can, floored by how exposed you are now that you’re not in a dimly lit room, and clears his throat.

“Why do they call you Sparkles? Is it a hero name or something?”

Snorting, you shake your head and shut the fridge. Making your way to the counter that he leans against, you look up at him and slowly start to get to work while contemplating how to best answer the question.

“I’m surprised the Midoriya’s haven’t told you that story,” you joke about Izuku and his girlfriend as one, despite the formality of marriage not yet being completed. 

“I’ve never really asked them.”

Tenko has asked Izuku many other questions about you, namely about the nature of your friendship with Lemillion and how close you two really are.

“They just like each other’s attention,” Deku comforted his unlikely friend with a pat on the back the last time the entire group of you went out and Tenko watched the blonde man hug you a little too tightly. 

But beyond that, he has managed to feel you out himself. Perhaps against his better judgment and here he is again, desperate to learn a little more. 

“Well when I was a third year my final project to graduate from the support course was a glitter bomb.” 

You finally start, finishing chopping one item and moving onto the next. 

Graduation came not long after the Meta War ended. The project was something you’d worked tirelessly on for months before that, a sophisticated piece of equipment with a state of the art fireless ignition. Safety has always been the reason you wanted to invent and this was a golden opportunity to invent something that had no possible chance of hurting its user. No backfiring, no risk. 

“Honestly, nobody really found the invention that funny except for me given, you know…” you wave your knifeless hand around and raise your eyebrows hoping he gets the message without being insulted. 

Tenko tilts his head to the side, unfolding his arms and bracing them on the edge of the countertop. He picks up what you mean and doesn’t wish to pull the thread, eyes darting from his feet to your hand and back.

“But long story short, Hatsume told me once that they are still cleaning glitter out of the 3A classroom carpets and now everyone calls me Sparkles. I ended up selling the schematics to the support item manufacturer that one of my other classmates works for so it worked out.”

The lack of response worries you although it’s a bit silly to care in the first place. You don’t want his presence to be impermanent but you know that once his time trailing Deku around like a puppy is through, it’s likely he’ll never stop by again. It’s something you’ve kind of resigned yourself to over the last several months after finding yourself a little too invested in what you can do to bring a smile to that handsome face that looks a little more lively every day.

That’s a concern for a few months from now. You’ve always prided yourself on the ability to live in the moment so here you are, choosing to ignore an uncertain future to embrace what’s right next to you.

With an exaggerated sigh, you gather up a pile of green onions with the back of your hand and look up at him with a wry half smile. “Why did you think they called me Sparkles?”

Shrugging, he smiles down at you.

“Guess I always thought it was because of your personality.” 

Biting back a smile, your cheeks warm while you drop the tofu and a bunch of sauces into a now hot pan. 

“You really think I sparkle?”

Chuckling, he lifts himself away from the counter and walks to your other side to gently shake the handle of the frying pan. 

“I think there’s no way you don’t already know that about yourself.”

No sense in arguing with a man who is right. Giggling, you reach for the frying pan handle and gently shove him with your shoulder.

“Hey, you’re my guest. Let me handle it.”

Side stepping, he finds himself looking downward at the slope of your back and once again at your very visible derrière. That same ache that led him to your front door returns, his mouth drying out as he realizes it. 

Why does he feel comfortable enough to stand here? Is progress, improvement even, supposed to feel this terrifying?

“Go sit down Ten,” you nod toward the living area with a smile. “I can handle it.”

Ten.

It has been a long time since someone he considered a friend called him that. He doesn’t recall anyone he’d ever considered more than saying it. 

“And what if I stay right here?” He asks, smiling when you look over your shoulder at him again. 

Is he flirting with you?

“Then I won’t stop you.”

[nat-the-octo]

hey it’s been a while since I finished a game so I figured I might as well post my thoughts on here. Maybe I’ll do this more or go through a backlog of games idk

anyway here’s my thoughts on Borderlands (the first one)

To start, I got this game and every other game in the franchise for like 30 bucks due to some movie cross promotion ig, so I had no real prior knowledge going in. I also played through solo, so I assume the game is better with friends.

The game was overall fun to play, but it really hasn’t aged well I don’t think. The whole game can really be boiled down to: want place, shoot people, walk back and return quest, repeat. The only real gameplay was the shooting, which was quite good. Each type of weapon has the right feel of weight and damage (except for any rocket launcher, they all sucked), and the looter shooter mechanics of constantly finding new weapons… mostly worked. I ended up getting a combat rifle from the rotating shop that outclassed every other weapon for about 15 levels, until I found a better version of the exact same gun, which lasted until the end of the game.

The story felt really light, and not really in a good way like some modern games. Every character can be placed in the boxes of “Insane” or “Semi-sane” and “Evil” or “Morally light gray.”

In terms of memorability, every area looked the same except for the snowy final area. All of the areas feel very empty and I was often left walking through open fields being no where near a vehicle spawned. I only remember like 3 bosses that weren’t just a regular looking guy with more health, and every npc was boring.

Ultimately, the only thing holding this game up is the gunplay, but it’s doing a really good job, so I can call it a fine game deserving of at least one sequel to improve. Apparently the second one is way better so we’ll see.

On the topic of the DLC, I finished an anticlimactic final boss and end sequence, played through most(?) of the claptrap revolution dlc, mostly just killing the same 3 types of enemies over and over for parts, until they stopped respawning. I closed the game to unload all the loot piled on the floor and rejoined to see my progress erased and the difficulty 5 levels above my own. I promptly uninstalled the game and began downloading the sequel.

anyways let me know if anyone cares for me to continue doing this for other games thanks for reading bye

[atalienart]

Let fantasy worlds have plumbing! Let them have chocolate!

[atomicradiogirl]

my generation kill book review cause i Finally understand it

★ ★ ★ ★

i like to say “there are no winners in war” and this is such a good example of that. the marines in generation kill are boyish men. they joke and play kill. they hide their trauma with dark humor. they talk pop culture and j-lo and justin timberlake and britney spears. these are 20-30 year olds but they act like teenagers. they’re oppressively masculine and homophobic but they love each other and are feminine despite the irony. they’ll never be the same. and despite this humanity there’s something holding back the average person from connecting to them. while i can connect to the marines of the pacific (eugene sledge and robert leckie) and the men of easy company (dick winters, donald malarkey, david webster), the iraq marines have this divide that i just cannot resonate with. maybe it’s the language, the mental disconnect, the lack of emotional vulnerability that the WWII veterans so harrowingly put in their memoirs. this different kind of warfare forces you to repress it in a different way. something that’s hard to make the average person understand. the iraq marines weren’t fighting nations (germany, japan) they were fighting ideologies and political greed (terrorism, oil, territories). the iraq marines didn’t have a cause to fight for, they didn’t care. it was an aimless war. this is the divide so well placed in generation kill and the show. the show even better since the soldiers and the war itself forces you to create a mental disconnect alongside them. you don’t care because they don’t care.

[quiveringdeer]

fuuuuuuuck this is soooo well done holy shit!!!

me at suguru the whole time:

the dichotomy between his gentleness with that twisted toxicity is sooooo perfectly balanced! like fuck. he's my fave anyway but you just took my craving for him to a whole new level!!! I'm gonna reread this again and again just to savor how you captured him

and there at the end the way Sukuna eggs him on!!! I know his head is reeling trying to come up with a way to get reader back under him and claim her ass while making her squirt

Also, just the way you captured all their personalities was a joy to read. Gojo's petulance! But the way he has that edge of danger too when he's testy with Choso about taking reader's attention from him

Speaking of. CHOSO!!! My darling sweetie pie!!!!! Gosh just wanna bundle him up! These menaces are gonna ruin him! lmao When he bundled her up with his hoodie I got such extra fuzzy feelings!

I also loved how gentle Sukuna was. I just know that asshole has some romantic leanings that he buries deeeeeeeeep and doesn't even admit to himself, but they come through with how truly careful he is with reader--unlike the more possessive manipulativeness of Suguru--Such a perfect contrast! (I'm saying perfect a lot but I mean it!!!)

Nanami showing up at the end was icing on the cake!

My mind is running wild with how things can go from here. I just know Geto is thinkin about getting that video from Gojo to blackmail reader back into his bed. Or maybe something more subtle. whew. this is gonna fill my fantasies for a good long while, thank you!!! Thank you for writing and sharing this with us!

polluted geto suguru, gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso/f!reader word count: 11k warnings: 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, recreational drug use (weed), dubious consent, slight sexual coercion, sex under the influence, gangbang, oral sex (f! and m!receiving), double penetration (oral and vaginal), biting, spitting, creampie, snowballing, pussyjob, fingering, choking, squirting, hair pulling, generally rough sex, implication of non-consensual filming/photography, shotgunning, college!au, no curses!au, slight dumbification, ft a cameo from nanami. a/n: this is a continuation of a drabble i posted ages ago (the first few hundred words of this fic!) feel free to skip that if you’ve already read it. also these tags alone are sending me to hell. enjoy! never talk to me about this again! crossposted to AO3

“D'ya want some?” Gojo asks up at you, his head in your lap as you tap at the screen of your cellphone idly, leaving a heart on a friend’s perfectly filtered photo that only makes you feel a little bitter when you look at it.

“Hm?” you ask, glancing down towards him as he peers up at your face. He has a bag of gummy candy resting on his tummy, and you part your lips and stick your tongue out slightly, asking for one of his sweets.

He lets out a little heh at your expression before popping a pink and blue candy–dusted with a sweet-sour crystalline coating���into your waiting mouth.

“I meant the weed,” Gojo answers your earlier hum only once you begin to chew the treat he’d just fed you. He sticks his thumb in his mouth, licking it clean of the tangy sugar that clings to it. “D'ya want some?”

“Oh,” you reply, eyes flickering to the other side of Gojo and Geto’s dorm room where Choso is seated on the floor, a pillow on his lap and an old DVD case on top of it. He’s diligently packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper–little bits of green clinging to the tips of his fingers like the sugar had to Gojo’s. “I don’t think so.”

You really shouldn’t.

Keep reading

[natreads]

The title story, White Nights, was a lovely and atmospheric depiction of love and loneliness. A young man wanders around St. Petersburg, usually alone, usually a dreamer, when he befriends an even younger girl. While the story is of the simple kind - lonely boy meets troubled girl - the narrator's inner life and observation is really what makes this a striking reading experience. I could imagine the streets, the houses he would walk past, the bench where they sat. I do admit I fell out of it halfway through for personal reasons, so it took me a long time to finish, but I was captivated for most of the time while reading it. I finished it in a very empty subway cart, the time had just changed a few days ago and so it was pitch black outside and very few people around. It was eerie. It was beautiful. It was the first time in ages where I didn't want to stop reading. I felt it was the perfect way to finish it.

[diaphony-haunting]

The Collector by John Fowles book review:

Do you ever get the terrible feeling everyone has the capacity to do awful things if only they had the means?

“The Collector” explores that wonderfully. When meek Frederick Clegg wins a life changing amount of money, he chooses to make his dream, and every women’s worst nightmare, a reality. He captures a vivacious young woman, Miranda Grey, and entraps her in his home, along with his collection of butterflies.

Miranda can outwit, outmaneuver, and out-charm Frederick in almost every regard. She is eons more cultured than he could ever hope to be, and yet he has the upper hand simply because he is physically stronger than her.

I loved the discussions of art and culture throughout this book, and although Miranda often read as a bit pretentious, you still rooted for her the whole time. Miranda is an artist in the literal and emotional sense, seeking and creating beauty in the world, whereas Frederick is her antithesis. He wants nothing more than to own beauty.

The book is split between Miranda and Frederick’s POV, and being in Frederick’s POV was generally creepy, not in a perverted or evil way, more so it gave you a chilling sense that he was not a fully developed person. I honestly have to say Miranda’s POV is a bit of a drag. It was a bit dull to read about characters in her life that never have a real impact on the story besides providing context to her personality, but her ideas of art were compelling. The ending was horrifying but I shouldn’t have been surprised, it really tied the book together. A solid 4/5 star read for me.

[victusinveritas]

"The Habitations of the Sentient Beings According to the Burmese" — from The Thirty-Seven Nats: A Phase of Spirit Worship Prevailing in Burma (1906) by William Griggs.

One of a few images from the book available as prints from Public Domain Review's online shop: https://publicdomainreview.org/shop/search/?q=The+Thirty-Seven+Nats

[quiveringdeer]

I....I'm awestruck by this. Pure poetry. It's so exquisitely written and feels so perfect for the way I see Suguru. Words are really failing me, I need more time to digest (ha!) this but just needed to tell you how much I adored this and give my sincere gratitude to you for bringing this forth and gifting it to all of us. 🧡

maw

“I’m afraid I’ll eat them, sometimes,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, curling a big hand around your nape, cupping your skull. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I know.”

You think he’s the only one who does.

notes: me writing someone other than nanami? it’s more likely than you’d think. i lowkey felt possessed when i wrote the meat of this in a frenzy in my tumblr drafts. the getou & consumption brainrot is real. this isn’t even my getou wip. god. do not perceive me.

pairing: getou suguru x afab reader

wc: ~2k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, jjk manga spoilers (gojo’s past arc), pre-canon but with aged up characters (college au), afab reader (no pronouns used), canon-typical blood & gore, canonical minor character deaths, brief religious references, reader has a (somewhat vague) innate technique, said innate technique swallows up some corpses at some points, cannibalism (in a nightmare), fingering, smut, non-linear timeline. let me know if i missed anything!

It was only ever Suguru.

Later, you’ll hear all the different theories as to where you went so wrong: you are a lamb led astray, unaware of the sharp-toothed grin closing slow around you; you ate the apple straight from his hand, lips glistening and tongue wrapping slick around his fingertips, the crimson skin of it catching between your teeth, till your smile was only bloodied, pulpy gums; the gluttony of the insatiable maw of your technique drove you mad.

But it was only ever him.

Just a man with a sunset smile, something slow that filled the sky, that painted the world with color. Just a man with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

(Just a man with rot laid heavy on his tongue, pulsing black and pungent, little veins of blight uncurling to slip down his throat, into his belly, to fester and keep.

If you swallow someone else’s sins, you wonder, must you atone too?)

There was no trickery, no seduction, no madness.

It was just Suguru.

The elders send you to wade through what he leaves in his wake.

Keep reading

[nats-reads-reviews]

So looking forward to reading this book! I love the illustrations 🖤 🪦

[justanechoflower]

OOC, but, I just really needed to get this out of my system. Nat, you are real good at drawing! Especially when it comes to our fave flower boy! The details and the way you are able to draw his expressions- absubwuahaue-

You even take into account his petals whenever he's sad or happy!! I noticed it in the answer post for my 'guilty' ask!!

You are a great artist!!

(Than you so much!!! I experiment with a lot of things while I run my blog, including those petal-related emotions. Here are some other things I tried with below.

Solid gel pen blush vs. Gel pen dab and smudge vs. Pencil because I ran out of gel pen

Pale petals vs. More orangy/gold (I still like to make things paler sometimes- usually if I want something to be scary but if he's spooked I should do that too)

Also: Short as heck vs. A little taller

Leaves vs. Worm + no little stumpy thing at the bottom

This hasn't happened yet but I'm thinking of making the vines more angular in fight mode, because by logic, stiffer vines are more likely to stab well than wiggly ones.

Now, this is unrelated but congratulations on finally earning headpat privileges! You deserve it.

[quiveringdeer]

and yet again I say...

TOOOOOOOSHI!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭

your headcanons are so beautifully in character! I'm so pissed at him for getting caught up in his feelings of inadequacy at keeping you safe and YET he sooo would. Cause that shit is always at the back of his mind anyway, I know it. Like he probably already believes you deserve better and so to be "proven" that he can't even care for you "properly" as a partner should by keeping you safe, it'd just cement to him that you having this do over to find someone truly deserving of you and UGHFJJFJFKF Toshinori you idiot!! you can't keep EVERYONE safe, especially not all the time every moment--even those close to you. sometimes shit just happens babes. 🥺🧡🧡🧡🧡 I just wanna comfort him so badly. love must prevail!!

Hello! I loved your pro-heros imagine where the reader was hurt. I was wondering if you'd do the pros again reacting to the reader having amnesia? The doctors aren't sure if it's permanent or not. Maybe the pros try to court them all over again just in case they don't remember them? Thank you! ���

Hello! Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy!

Characters: All Might, Endeavour, Edgeshot, Aizawa, Hawks

✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    ✧. ┊    

All Might

Toshinori stares. He knows it’s probably unnerving but he can’t help it, remembering how you looked at him when you first met and unable to maintain his composure fully.

When he snaps out of it, he introduces himself as though he’s never met you before. He puts on the same voice he uses when speaking to the press – the false tone that’s meant to make him sound less human than ever.

He takes a very, very long time before he lets anybody explain he once was in your life. There’s a strange shame he carries with him surrounding your relationship. Despite everything he once promised to you, despite swearing to keep you safe, he feels like he failed.

Even though he’s tempted to try over again and win your heart, he’s not going to. It’s too unbalanced for him to remember everything while you knew nothing. Too hurtful to not be able to feel your care and love.



Eraserhead

Is it a fate worse than death? When Aizawa looks into your unrecognizing expression, he contemplates for a brief second if hearing about your death would have hurt him less.

None of these thoughts show on his face as he reintroduces himself to you and leaves out any reference to your relationship. He speaks as though you are merely somebody rescued in his line of work but try as he might, he can’t bring himself to abandon you alone when you’re like this.

He speaks quietly to you, like you’re an animal poised to bolt. It’s so intensely obvious what your relationship once was, though he may not say it. Even with no memories, his care can be seen.

He won’t try to win your heart for a second time. He says it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to but honestly, he doesn’t want to intrude on your life when you already have so much to try and remember.



Hawks

Keigo doesn’t believe it for a few short, devastating moments when he smiles at you cockily. He waits for your façade to break and listens for a laugh of some unexplained joke. But it never comes and when he slowly realises the truth, he feels entirely lost.

You can’t see his emotions clearly but there’s a shake in his words as he adjusts himself for a reintroduction. His arrogance in telling you about your relationship doesn’t hide how weak his tone sounds.

He’s going to tell you bits and pieces in hopes of bringing back your memories but when it doesn’t work, he’ll shrug as though it’s no big deal. You won’t be allowed to know the truth because he’s barely admitted that to himself.

At first, he promises himself that he’ll leave you to recover in your own time but he won’t hold to that. He’s determined to show you why you fell for him and he’s going to remind you about every part of your relationship he adores.



Endeavour

There are many things in this world that make Enji angry or frustrated but in a situation like this, all of those feel trivial. He doesn’t even recognise the sinking emotion he experiences when you don’t greet him as you always do.

At first, he gets loud and sharp as he almost demands that you remember who he is. His words are harsh and coloured with a grief you can no longer recognise immediately. He eventually has to leave to calm himself down as the anger rolls through him.

It takes him days before he returns and gives you a proper account for what happened, still behaving far too formal. He provides you with whatever he can to prove his point. He knows his stance makes it seem unbelievable.

He’s certain he can win you over a second time and he goes about romancing you as he did the first time. It worked initially. He really takes advantage of what he knows to make you understand his affection.



Edgeshot

Shinya maintains a very calm façade when everything is explained to him and he sits at the foot of your hospital bed, watching your expression with a well-hidden uncertainty.

He goes through your relationship and your life with you to see what parts you remember and what has changed. He doesn’t allow his emotions to get to him until he’s alone later that day. That’s when he gives into grief.

It’s hard not to mourn you as though you had died. Everything he’s built with you has been ripped away but he’s not going to let it be the end. Not when he still has you with him.

He works with you to help get your memories back and to make new ones along the way. He’s learned what you like throughout your relationship and he’s going to make your recovery period as peaceful and enjoyable as he can, secretly ensuring he can keep your heart whenever he can.



[girl4natwolff]

[amaclucky13]

Double Parked: 1x03 - Review

I'm infuriated by this plot and I kind of love it! Please, carry on with this plotline.

This might be my favorite episode yet. Mostly, because I’m concerned! Yes, concerned. The casual tossing away of legal documents that are beyond important is very concerning to me. Because despite anything and everything, Johnny could have claim to the turkey baster baby, not the IVF baby. An IVF clinic will do all the things to help you legally secure yours and your baby’s future from…

[mylifeinfiction]

Rest Stop by Nat Cassidy

All is either darkness or chaos.

Nat Cassidy's Rest Stop is a quick and vicious, creepy and cringe-inducing little horror novella about grief and faith and the fear of public restrooms.

I had one hell of a skin-crawling, bladder-busting great time with this one. The structural simplicity and vivid setting make for an immersive nightmare as never-ending as the wait for the next exit once the Sprite hits. The character work is set up quickly and holds true throughout, fueling the action with decisions and motives that feel authentically flawed. The ideas about grief and those for whom we grieve are dripping with a genuine tinge of religious guilt. And the physical terrors that Cassidy inflicts upon our protagonist are made all the more terrifying because they're rooted in the very intrusive thoughts that anyone who has entered a seemingly abandoned rest stop bathroom at 2AM has undoubtedly suffered.

8.5/10

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

[quiveringdeer]

OOOOO connecting this with the other one is perfect!!! Gosh I really have missed these boys.

Sweet sweet Vinny.

Also, not me having to reread the part about the bloody bite marks on the neck so many times before understanding. Nat's train of thought: /bloody bite marks, huh, did they get a dog, wait those marks would probs be more like gaping lacerations and most definitely fatal and death inducing so like ....-rereads- bloody bite marks...human? hmm why would Bo have blood on his teeth tho, fuckin weirdo....-rereads- bloody bite marks... ... ...OH!!!! cause bo bit her during the graping process!!!! aaah totes makes sense now, damn I'm slow today wow...okay but like damn he really had to bite that hard multiple times? fuckin barbarian lol

and last but not least, that last sentence, -chills- SO FUCKIN GOOD

Some Fluff with Vincent maybe? Bathtime, many candles... something like that? =)

Ayyeee and I’m back! Sorry, this one turned out a lot darker than you probably wanted 😬

Dark fluff? Is that a thing?

Female reader. Warnings: Hints of noncon, torture

Your eyes flutter open when you feel yourself rocking back and forth. You hang, limp, over the mechanic’s shoulder as he strides down a dark hallway, only illuminated by a few candles here and there. The air grows warmer, more humid the further you go.

Metal tables littered with instruments come into view and you let your tired eyes slip shut. You wonder what fresh hell Bo has in store for you now. They quickly snap back open when you’re seized around the waist and tossed onto the ground.

You hit the hard floor with a heavy thud, a pained grunt passing your bloody, chapped lips. Bo rolls you over with the toe of his boot and chuckles when you blink dumbly up at him.

“Got the last one fer ya’, Vince. She’s a sweetheart, a’intcha, baby girl?” Bo winks at you and you turn your head away, tears slipping down your bruised cheeks.

You flinch when a shadow moves from the corner. A man emerges from the darkness. Deliriously, you wonder how he can stand to wear a sweater in this heat. You can’t exactly tell, your vision blurred with tears, the flickering candlelight not enough to illuminate, but his face looks strange, uncanny.

Bo turns and stomps back down the hall without a backward glance. The other man, Vince, kneels next to you, a long curtain of dark hair falling in front of his face. This close, you realize he’s wearing a mask.

You wince when soft fingers graze your cheek. Gently, he grips your jaw and slowly turns your head to the side, then back again. Your breath hitches when his hand falls to your neck and prods at the bloody bite marks dotting your skin.

“V-Vince...is that s-short for Vincent?” you rasp, your parched tongue feeling like a thick, foreign thing in your mouth. The man’s gaze snaps back to your face when you speak. He doesn’t reply at first and, for a moment, you think about asking another question, but then he slowly nods.

“That’s...that’s a strong name. My-my g-grandad was named V-Vincent.” You swallow thickly, wondering why you’re speaking to this man at all. No doubt he’s going to finish you off now that Bo is done with you.

You keep speaking anyway, desperate to fill the silence broken only by the hiss of pipes and crackling of a fire. You tell him your name, tell him how soft his hands feel. Your vision blurs again and you can tell you’re on the verge of passing out once more.

Vincent brushes your hair out of your eye and, weakly, you smile and thank him.

“That was...d-driving me...crazy....”

Then nothing.

*

Pleasantly warm water laps at your shoulders. You groan, peeling your eyes open. Slowly, your vision focuses on the flickering candles perched at the far edge of the tub. You blink a few times, wondering how you got into a bathtub, but movment to your left makes you jerk.

The man from earlier, Vincent, kneels at the edge of the tub. He grips your forearm reassuringly before slipping an arm behind you and sitting you up so he can dab at the bloody lacerations criss-crossed down your back. You grit your teeth against the sting and heave a heavy sigh when he gently lowers you back against the chilly porcelain.

He washes the rest of the blood, grime, and cum off your skin with the same tender meticulousness. Then, he turns his attention to your hair, tipping your head back and carefully pouring water across your locks before massaging sweet smelling shampoo into your scalp. Silently, you let him work, wondering what the end game will be. Why is he bothering if he’s just going to kill you?

Except he doesn’t kill you. Effortlessly, he lifts your weak body from the tub, setting you in his lap and carefully drying you as your head rests on his shoulder. He dresses you in a thick sweater, one you can only assume is his. He slowly gives you sips of water, and little bites of food. Then, he carries you back to his candlelit basement room and lays you on a cot, covering you with a blanket.

There he leaves you, moving to a corner of the room and hunching down over a wax sculpture posed as if it were dancing. As your heavy eyes slip shut, you think the sculpture looks familiar. Familiar, like a friend.