#vivid street: next gen!

[aipurjopa]

and we pass it forwards

[mononijikayu]

polaroid love ─ nanami kento.

His beloved could not help but squeeze his hand gently, her eyes filled with unspoken affection for him. It was the feeling of being bathed in the sun, when she looked at him like that. It was the feeling of being able to enjoy the delicious flavors of newly baked bread, fresh from the oven. It was as though he had just drank a cup of good, warm coffee that woke him up to life. In that moment, Nanami Kento knew that he had indeed won at life with such a love, a love that felt like coming home after a long journey. She was home. His home.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i think i played polaroid love numerous times to finish this today!!! i like listening to the music that inspired the work to get down the vibe!!! in any case, i got to finish it well because of my semester break!!! i hope you enjoy it well!!! please always take care of yourselves!!! i love you!!! happy early valentines day!!!

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

what are you doing new year's eve | polaroid love

next: safe and sound

HE WONDERED IF IT WAS TOO LATE TO TURN BACK. But as he looked at her, smiling to herself with the giddiness that could only come from pure joy— he felt like he was going to combust from all the warmth he felt. Nanami Kento took the time to observe her excitement in detail. He could not help but marvel at the way her eyes lit up with pure delight, reflecting the sunshine that seemed to radiate from within her.

Her infectious happiness transformed the mundane into the extraordinary, turning the passing footsteps of strangers into a symphony of life. It was in these moments that he realized how he had become captivated by her spirit, a force that effortlessly pulled him into her world.

Her humming, a melodic backdrop to the scene outside, resonated in harmony with the rhythm of the city. Kento found himself enchanted by the simple act of her appreciating the beauty in the everyday, finding joy in the glimpses of life unfolding beyond the window. Her happiness, in turn, became a magnetic force that drew him closer, eroding any inclination he might have had to resist her wishes.

With each skip of his heart, Kento acknowledged the unique beauty she possessed in those rare moments of unbridled happiness. It was as if she had borrowed the sunlight from the streets of Copenhagen, infusing it into her being, and radiating it back to the world. She became the living embodiment of the city's warmth, casting a glow that transcended the physical space around her.

Kento recalled the countless times he had found himself unable to refuse her, recognizing that saying no to her was like denying himself the pleasure of witnessing her unparalleled joy. Whether it was exploring hidden gems in the city, trying new culinary delights, or embarking on unexpected adventures, he found himself willingly swept into the currents of her enthusiasm.

As she eagerly anticipated the meeting with his grandparents, Kento couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for having her in his life. Her patience in awaiting this moment, the eagerness in her eyes, and the genuine excitement etched on her face were testaments to the significance she placed on meeting the people who had shaped him.

As Nanami Kento continued to watch her immersed in the sunlight of Copenhagen, a sense of gratitude and realization enveloped him like a warm embrace. The radiant beams streaming through the window seemed to accentuate the vividness of her joy, as if the very essence of the city's sunshine had found a home within her. In that moment, Kento felt an unspoken acknowledgment resonate within him — he had discovered an irreplaceable treasure in her happiness, a treasure he was unwilling to part with.

The echoes of life outside the window, the rhythmic cadence of footsteps and distant laughter, served as a poetic backdrop to the profound connection he shared with her. It was as if the vibrant pulse of the city synchronized with the beats of their intertwined lives. Kento marveled at the beauty of this synchronicity, where the external world mirrored the harmony they found in each other.

In her presence, he found solace and rejuvenation, a stark contrast to the self-imposed isolation he had once chosen. Copenhagen's sunshine and her infectious joy had become potent antidotes to the shadows of his past, dispelling the remnants of solitude that lingered within him. It was a transformation he hadn't expected, a reawakening facilitated by her entrance into his life.

The acknowledgment that he wouldn't have it any other way echoed not just through the room but through the corridors of his heart. Her joy had become an integral part of his world, intertwining with the fabric of his existence in a way that felt both natural and extraordinary. He wanted to protect that joy, to safeguard it as if it were a delicate bloom that thrived under the nourishment of their shared experiences.

As he continued to observe her, a silent promise formed in the recesses of his thoughts — he would cherish this newfound connection, nurture it, and safeguard it from the storms that life might bring. The extraordinary beauty she brought into his life was a revelation he hadn't anticipated when he had distanced himself from the world and the people he once cared about.

In the warmth of Copenhagen's sunshine, amidst the echoes of life unfolding outside, Nanami Kento embraced the beauty of connection and rediscovered the capacity to welcome joy into his life. The journey with her, filled with laughter, sunlight, and shared moments, became a testament to the transformative power of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

“You’re staring way too much, Kento–kun.” Her voice came out so teasingly, vibrant eyes bubbling at his own. He gulps silently, cheeks suddenly warm. “You see something you like?”

Nanami Kento felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a half-smile, a blend of intrigue and amusement. She was the sun itself like this, piercing through him with teasing light that beams through no matter what. Kento supposed he is but a man, a man who cannot deny his need for the sun. He would not be alive without it. He would not feel warmth without it. Just as he couldn’t be without her. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and her playful tone only heightened the allure of the moment.

"Well, you know, it's hard not to stare when you're lighting up the whole room with that smile," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity beneath the playful banter. He let out a chuckle, one that only hears from someone too in love. “Can’t a man stare at his partner?”

She arched an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. "Oh, is that so? Then this partner should carry a warning then – may cause distraction with excessive smiling."

Kento chuckled again, feeling a newfound ease settle between them. "I don't think any warning would have prepared me for this."

Her laughter echoed through the room, a delightful melody that wrapped around them. The exchange, born out of a teasing remark, evolved into a shared moment of light-hearted banter.

She leaned in slightly, her eyes holding a subtle glint. "Well, Kento-kun, if you can't help but stare, maybe you should join me in enjoying the view."

He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Are you inviting me to admire myself?"

A playful smirk played on her lips. "Maybe, or maybe I just want some company in appreciating the beauty of life outside this window."

Kento chuckled, realizing that beneath the teasing exchange was a genuine invitation to share a moment together. "I suppose I can spare a few moments to appreciate the view."

As their banter unfolded, Kento found a soothing rhythm in the exchange of words. The ease that emanated from her presence seemed to permeate the room, casting a gentle calm over his usually composed demeanor. Being with her had that effect—like a comforting balm for his worries, an anchor in the unpredictable sea of life. Everything had seemed to be like calm waves in the drifting sea in the wonder of dawn. Nothing was hard with her. Everything had become so easy with her by his side. Her love was like that. Her love was everything that made life worth living.

Yet, in spite of the reassurance her company brought, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness lingered in Kento's thoughts. It was the first time his grandparents would meet his partner, a momentous occasion that stirred a mix of emotions within him. Maternal bonds ran deep in him, and Kento felt a special closeness to his grandparents, having shared a part of his life under their care. The summers, the holidays, and the everyday moments had woven a tapestry of memories that made the prospect of introducing his beloved to them both exciting and nerve-wracking.

His thoughts wandered to the times spent with them, the laughter echoing through the house, the comforting aroma of his grandmother's warm cooking, and the wise words imparted by his grandfather. The warmth of a smile and the touch against a scrap cut. Those memories were precious, and he couldn't help but wonder how his partner would fit into the wider narrative of a family that meant the world to him.

A deep sense of vulnerability crept abstrusely into Kento's heart as he tried to grapple with the uncertainty that came with this introduction to a new chapter of his life. He’s never brought a girl home before. He’s also never known how to conceptualize the idea of a lover into the broader workings of his universe. He kept going back and forth at what his grandparents' reaction could be. 

‘What if they didn't like her?’

His lips quipped into a nervous line. The question lingered, carrying the weight of the unspoken fear that mirrored the hesitations he had faced with his parents about his love for her. It was swell that his mother and father loved her already, they knew her as his dear friend for a long time. But his grandparents hadn’t.

And it was a lot of pressure, because it mattered. It mattered that she was loved by everyone around him. She deserved to be loved. Because she was everything that made life a wonder. He needed the world to see that too. He needs them to see her as he does. To feel her be the sun that bathes the world in the wonder offered by sunlight’s warmth.

He stole a glance at her, her eyes filled with a comforting reassurance, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for her presence. The banter, the laughter, and the playful moments they shared became a source of strength, a reminder that he didn't have to face this moment alone.

"I hope they like you," Kento admitted, the vulnerability in his voice belying the composed exterior. "As much as they mean the world to me, you mean the world to me more than anything. I want them to see what I see in you. I want them to love you too.”

Her gaze softened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. "They'll see how we love each other, Kento. Don’t worry too much about it. Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place."

The words lingered in the air, settling like a gentle breeze that swept away the remnants of nervous anticipation. With her reassuring touch and the promise of acceptance, Kento felt a renewed sense of calm enveloping him. As they continued their journey towards his grandparents' home, the weight of uncertainty seemed to lift, replaced by a quiet confidence in the love they shared.

The streets of Copenhagen unfolded around them, a picturesque backdrop to the evolving narrative of their relationship. Kento found solace in the belief that the warmth of their connection would act as a bridge, spanning the gap between the familiarity of his grandparents and the new chapter they were embarking upon together.

In the quiet moments of the journey, he reflected on the beauty he saw in her—the laughter that echoed in the corners of their shared experiences, the kindness that radiated from her gestures, and the genuine joy that lit up her eyes. It was a beauty that went beyond the surface, a reflection of the love and understanding they had cultivated in their time together.

As the car rolled along the cobblestone streets, Kento couldn't shake the image of his grandparents' home in his mind—the cozy familiarity of the living room, the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals, and the memories etched into every corner. He hoped that, in introducing his partner to this cherished space, the love they shared would become as evident to his grandparents as it was to him.

With each passing moment, Kento found strength in the belief that genuine connections could withstand any uncertainties. Love, he realized, had a unique way of transcending differences and building bridges between generations. The nervousness that had accompanied him earlier began to transform into a quiet optimism, a hope that his grandparents would see the depth of the bond he had found with her.

He leaned towards her, his eyes shining with nothing but love. "I love you. Very much."

She grinned at him, echoing his love. "I know. I love you too."

Nanami Kento let his lips rest on hers.

And soon enough, she reciprocated too.

He did not care whoever stared at them.

Nanami cared more about loving her well.

KENTO COULD REMEMBER MEMORIES OF HIS YOUTH AS THEY WALKED. The walk to his grandparents' home felt like a journey through the corridors of nostalgia. Each step echoed with memories of laughter, warmth, and the comforting embrace of familial love. Kento's grip on his partner's hand tightened, a silent reassurance that together they could face whatever lay ahead.

Approaching the well-worn doorstep of his grandparents' home, Kento's heart quickened its pace, a symphony of emotions playing within him. The scent of familiar flowers in the garden, the creaking sound of the opening gate, and the distant hum of the city outside created a sensory backdrop to this significant moment. As his hand reached out to grasp the doorknob, he felt a blend of anticipation and affection coursing through him, like the pages of a cherished novel about to be reopened.

The door, weathered by the passage of time, swung open, and there she stood—his grandmother, a paragon of kindness and familial love. Her eyes, soft with years of wisdom and tender memories, lit up with recognition and unbridled joy as she beheld her grandson standing at the threshold.

"Kento, min kære dreng!" Her voice, a soothing melody, carried the resonance of countless echoes of his boyhood.Kento smiled as the door opened. Wrinkles etched with the passage of time framed her warm smile as she enveloped Kento in a comforting embrace. "It's been too long, min lille kærlighed!"

As Kento melted into his grandmother's embrace, the past and present seamlessly intertwined, creating a tapestry of emotions that transcended time. Her arms, like the comforting notes of a familiar melody, wrapped around him, evoking memories of days long gone. The scent of her familiar perfume, the softness of her embrace, all stirred echoes of childhood visits that played like a nostalgic symphony in his mind.

In that tender moment, the walls of the living room seemed to fade away, transporting Kento back to a time when he was a child seeking solace and joy in the sanctuary of his grandmother's home. The creaking sound of the rocking chair, the gentle hum of her lullabies, and the whispered secrets shared in the quiet corners of the house—these were the building blocks of the unbreakable bond they had forged over the years.

His heart swelled with gratitude, a profound appreciation for the constancy of her love that had weathered the storms of time. The wrinkles etched on her face, like the lines of a well-worn novel, told the story of a life filled with joy, challenges, and unwavering support for her grandson. As he returned the embrace, Kento felt the weight of the years momentarily dissipate, leaving only the warmth and reassurance that came with the love of a matriarch who had been a pillar of strength throughout his journey.

The embrace held an unspoken language—a language of shared laughter, silent tears, and the countless unvoiced expressions of love that had woven the fabric of their relationship. As they stood there, locked in that tender embrace, Kento marveled at the resilience of family bonds, the ties that connected generations and stood the test of time.

It was more than a hug; it was a timeless connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. In the arms of his grandmother, Kento found not just a physical embrace but a sanctuary of love—a place where he could always return, no matter how far life took him.

“Mormor, I've missed you," Kento admitted, his voice betraying the depth of his emotions. “It’s been a while since I’ve come up to visit. Where’s farfar?”

She held him at arm's length, her eyes searching his face as if deciphering the stories etched in the contours. "And I've missed you, min kære dreng. Oh, he’s reading his newspaper in the back. But who is this lovely lady you've brought with you?” 

Kento stepped aside, his hand gesturing towards his beloved, who stood with a genuine smile that mirrored the warmth of the familial scene. His grandmother's eyes shifted from him to his beloved partner, and in that moment, the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the introduction of this new chapter in their shared story. 

His grandmother’s face brightens up, her smile widening.“Don’t tell me, is this what I think this is?”

Kento couldn't help but return her smile, the sight of her instantly bringing back a flood of fond memories. "Mormor, this is my partner. I’ve been wanting to introduce her to you, so she can meet my wonderful mormor and farfar."

His beloved offered a respectful bow, her own smile mirroring the genuine warmth that radiated from the older woman. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, frue. Kento has told me so much about you."

His grandmother's eyes twinkled with amusement as she exchanged a knowing glance with Kento who seemed flustered about that. "Oh, has he now? That’s good to know! I’m too certain that half of it is flattery now, is it?”

His beloved laughs. “Oh not at all, frue! He’s said nothing but fond things about you.”

“Oh it better stay that way!�� She says teasingly, turning to her grandson. She laughs delightfully. He purses his lips, his cheeks flustered in scarlet “Do come in, you two. It’s pretty hot out. Skat! Come here! Our dearest grandson is here!”

The trio moved into the living room, a space that held the echoes of countless shared moments. Kento's grandfather, seated in his favorite armchair, looked up from his book, a gentle smile forming on his lips. The older gentleman puts his book away, neatly tucking it into the folds of the coffee table and gets to his feet, walking towards the crowd of three. He smiled so tenderly, so kindly as he stood beside his wife. 

"Kento, min dreng! It’s good to see you.”

Kento looked at his grandfather and moved towards him to give him a hug and a kiss on his cheek. “It’s always my pleasure to see you, farfar.”

“Oh you and your flattery, dreng.” His grandfather warmly laughed.

He shakes his head, gently smiling. “I never lie about that, farfar.”

“He’s definitely his mother’s son, alright.” His grandfather jokes, looking towards his wife. “You remember, how min lille always flatters her poor old far.”

His wife laughed, her face softening in the nostalgia of memories. “Hm, the blood is definitely strong!”

“And who is this charming young lady?" His grandfather inquired, turning to Kento and his partner.

“This is my partner, farfar.” Kento turns to his partner, his eyes clearly shaking timidly as he watches his grandfather’s eyes turn wide. His grandmother smiles at him, and then her husband.

“Our Kento’s fallen in love, honning!”

His lover stepped forward, extending a hand with a smile as she spoke her name. “It's a pleasure to meet you!”

The older man's handshake was firm but warm. But it was obvious that he was pleased. His eyes were as clear as day. They always tell. "The pleasure is ours, kære pige! Kento finally fell in love and introduced us to the one who holds his heart! I never thought this day would ever come!”

Kento’s face turned bright red at his grandparents and their elated responses to the news. His partner looks flushed in scarlet too, smiling at the thought. Kento never really expressed any desire to have a crush or even a lover ever so outwardly before. His grandparents often asked, as much as his parents did. Yet this was the first time he’d ever have a lover so boldly introduced. He was certain his grandparents could see the love in his eyes as he looked at his partner.

“I’ll go make us some tea and snacks.” His grandmother says, still smiling from ear to ear as she kissed her husband’s cheek. “Do get them settled here, honning.”

His grandfather dutifully nodded with a smile. “Of course, honning. You two, come, make yourselves comfortable!”

As they settled into the familiar surroundings of the homely four walls, Kento couldn't help but marvel at how seamlessly his beloved was able to blend into the essence of his grandparents' home. It was as if she always belonged there, how easily she was a fixture in everything that echoes his fondness. His eyes warmed as he stared at her. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of ease, and the anxiety that had accompanied him earlier melted away. All was well, he thinks in relief. 

Kento sat near beside his lover in the settee, comfortably leaning towards one another. His grandfather sat on his chair, marveling at the joy that emitted from his grandson. His beloved looked at him, blushing joyously. Kento returned it as he took her hand into his own. She squeezed it back, which made his heart burst into joy. 

"Would you like some tea, dear?" Kento's grandmother returns, tray in hand. One could see the bright varieties of cookies his grandmother had brought out. Kento jumped slightly, but kept his hand on his lover’s own. She smiled at his grandmother and graciously accepted. 

As his grandmother set the cups on each of their sides, Kento found himself stealing glances at his lover, who engaged in easy conversation with his grandparents. The smile on his face was no longer tinged with nervousness but with the quiet certainty that he had made the right choice in bringing her here. The love they shared, he believed, had the power to illuminate even the most hidden corners of the heart, and as the evening unfolded, it became evident that this shared promise was already weaving itself into the fabric of his grandparents' home.

As they all gathered around the coffee table, Kento's grandmother, with her gentle smile and twinkling eyes, poured tea for everyone. His grandfather, dearest farfar, sat back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach, a contented expression on his weathered face. 

"So, tell us, Kento," his grandmother began, her voice soft and inviting. "How did you two meet?"

Kento glanced at his dearest beloved, a shy smile playing on his lips. "We met at the jazz festival," he replied, his voice a little nervous but filled with affection. "She was one of the singers.”

His grandfather’s eyes brightened. “Oh, so you were that girl he danced with!”

“Oh yes, min kære søn, Kento’s father – he spoke about how you took Kento dancing!” His grandmother clapped at the memory. “Wasn’t there also a video, honning?”

“Yes, yes. It was shown to me.” Kento nearly groaned at the thought that the video still existed in his parent’s possession. 

His partner nodded, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. "I remember thinking how gently he held me throughout the dance," she said, her gaze never leaving him. "We met again after and then became friends. But we realized that something blossomed between us and we were just happy to explore it.”

His Farfar leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with interest. "And what is it that you do, my dear?" he asked, directing his question to Kento's partner.

"I work as an editor for a publishing company." she replied, her voice gentle yet confident. "It’s a tough job, going through manuscripts. But it’s always a treat to know what sort of universes exist in people’s lives with how they write and think.”

“That’s a lovely thing to do!” His dearest mormor clapped her hands excitedly, she had always loved those who are passionate in life. That’s why she married farfar, who was a jazz musician. Kento supposes its why he fell for her too. She had a passion for life. “Just as hardworking as our dear Kento.”

Farfar nodded approvingly. "A noble pursuit indeed," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.  He then looks at his grandson. "And what about you, Kento? What are your plans for the future? I heard you quit your corporate job recently.”

They finally know, he thinks. Kento hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting to his partner before returning to his grandparents. "I'm still figuring things out," he admitted, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He doesn’t tell them that he has returned to the Jujutsu world. He did not want to concern them. "But having her by my side makes everything feel a little less daunting."

Farfar smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks at his wife, with a love that could burn the world in the warmth of endless affection. "Love has a way of making the path clearer, my dearest Kento. But I hope when you realize that you’ve won at life with such a love, you let yourself close to that love. You keep it. Embrace it, cherish it, and never let it go."

Kento felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to his farfar's words, words that carried the weight of a lifetime of wisdom and love. Mormor smiled, looking at her husband with affection. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Farfar grinned at her act, looking back at her and doing it too. The laughter of his grandmother didn’t exist for a moment. He could not help but abandon the world for the sake of knowing only his beloved’s world for a moment. He glanced at his partner, his heart swelling with emotion at the thought of the depth of their connection.

His beloved could not help but squeeze his hand gently, her eyes filled with unspoken affection for him. It was the feeling of being bathed in the sun, when she looked at him like that. It was the feeling of being able to enjoy the delicious flavors of newly baked bread, fresh from the oven. It was as though he had just drank a cup of good, warm coffee that woke him up to life. In that moment, Nanami Kento knew that he had indeed won at life with such a love, a love that felt like coming home after a long journey. She was home. His home. 

"I promise, farfar," Kento said, his voice filled with determination. His hand tightly squeezing at his lover’s own. He could feel her look at him intensely. "I will never let this love go. I will hold onto it with everything I have, and I will cherish it for as long as I live."

Farfar's smile widened, and he reached out to pat Kento's hand affectionately. "That's mit kære barnebarn," he said, his voice filled with pride. "And remember, love is not just about the big moments. It's about the everyday moments, the quiet moments, the moments when you simply hold each other's hands and know that you are exactly where you're meant to be."

Kento nodded, his eyes misty with depth to the love that echoes within him at this moment. He knew that he had a lot to learn about love, but with the love of his life by his side, he felt more confident than ever that they could weather any storm together. He would learn, he would grow better in the knowledge of love. Everything about her was built in love, he thinks. His farfar knew that well enough. He would not be here without mormor’s love.

As the day unfolded, the tea kept being refilled and the cookies kept getting eaten. It was safe to say that the atmosphere in Kento's grandparents' home was filled with warmth and genuine connection.  With each passing moment, the barriers between his beloved partner and his family melted away, replaced by a sense of belongingness in the space that Kento had loved so deeply. He had never felt more alive than in the room, being four all together.

Seated around the cozy living room, adorned with cherished family heirlooms and memories, the four of them engaged in animated conversation. Stories from Kento's childhood intermingled with tales of his grandparents' youth, creating a rich tapestry of shared experiences and laughter. His partner’s every story, every echo of likes and dislikes, interests was reciprocated in kind with the warmest of receptions. He had seen it in his partner’s eyes. She had never felt more at home than in this moment.

As they delved deeper into conversation, they stumbled upon a common passion – jazz music. It was a revelation that sparked a palpable sense of excitement in the room, igniting a shared enthusiasm that transcended generations. Kento's grandmother, her eyes twinkling with delight, recounted fond memories of attending jazz concerts in her youth. How she met her dearest husband at one of these concerts. She spoke of the mesmerizing rhythms and soulful melodies that had captivated her heart, transporting her to a world of pure bliss.

Farfar's face lit up with nostalgia as he shared anecdotes of his days as a young man, exploring the vibrant jazz scene of his hometown. He reminisced about late-night jam sessions in smoky clubs, where the music flowed freely and friendships were forged over a shared love for jazz.

Kento's partner listened intently, her curiosity piqued by their stories. She shared her own experiences with jazz, describing how she had stumbled upon the genre during a chance encounter with a street musician. From that moment on, she had been captivated by the raw emotion and improvisational spirit of jazz music. 

The day wore on and no one had realized that the sun had left them. It had turned into night and it had come swiftly with all the enjoyment that they found in each other’s company. They now spoke about how there could be a possibility that his partner would get promoted as one of the chief editors of one of her authors soon enough. Kento's grandmother, with a mischievous glint in her eye, excused herself from the conversation for a moment. Kento nodded at her and continued listening to the conversation between his partner and his farfar. He saw that she returned a few minutes later, carrying a dusty photo album in her hands.

"Ah, I couldn't resist," she said with a chuckle, settling back into her chair. "I thought it might be fun to take a trip down memory lane."

Kento's partner smiled warmly, her curiosity piqued as the photo album was opened to reveal a treasure trove of memories captured in faded photographs. Most of them had been polaroid pictures, echoing in the array of sizes and colors. Each page of the photo album echoed the many lives lived in the blossom of the monochromatic tints to the colored ones. 

Nanami Kento purses his lips, feeling himself wonder what he was in for. His grandparents had always captured a day in his life when he was with them in his youth. He was their beloved daughter’s only son after all. They poured as much love as they did their daughter. But he couldn’t help but look away, as his grandmother announced to the world, one of his first photos.

"Oh my goodness, Kento, look at you!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she caught sight of a picture of Kento as a young toddler, his face smeared with chocolate from ear to ear as he grinned at the camera. Kento hugged a stuffed bear on his side, he was pretty certain he named it ‘blåbjørn’ — because it was blue. Kento was certain that it was one of his earlier visits to Denmark, when he had tasted Kiksekage for the first time. 

“You look so small compared to the stuffed animal. And god, your smile!”

Kento blushed, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he studied the photograph. He sighs, trying to play it off. "That's me during my first or second birthday party," he said with a fond smile. "I remember that cake. Mormor makes the best Kiksekage. It was my favorite."

“And it still is!” His grandmother grinned, looking at her grandson fondly. “On your last visit, you devoured the whole thing. Your mor definitely did not like that.”

His partner laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You look so adorable," she said, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

As they flipped through the pages of the weathered photo album, each turn revealed a new chapter of Kento's life, narrated with heartfelt anecdotes and cherished memories by his grandmother. With each photograph carefully placed, Kento's grandmother's voice filled the room with the gentle cadence of storytelling, weaving a tapestry of moments that had shaped Kento into the person he was today. 

She pointed to a snapshot of Kento as a young boy, his face illuminated with pure joy as he clutched a toy car in his tiny hands, and recounted the story of how he had spent countless hours racing around the backyard, his imagination soaring to distant lands. Another photograph captured Kento on his first day of school, his eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, his grandmother recalling how he had bravely marched towards the school bus, a small backpack nearly swallowing him whole. 

With each memory shared, Kento's girlfriend felt herself being drawn deeper into the rich tapestry of his life, gaining insight into the experiences and influences that had shaped him into the kind-hearted and resilient person she knew and loved. And as they continued to journey through the pages of the photo album, enveloped in the warmth of storytelling and the echoes of cherished memories, Kento's grandmother's words became more than just a recounting of the past – they became a celebration of life. And even love. 

"There's Kento on his first day of school," His mormor said, pointing to a picture of a shy-looking Kento standing in front of a school stop, his backpack nearly as big as he was. He stood in between his parents, while his grandparents flanked him on the side. “Do you remember when he bowed to us and then all the things on his backpack fell?”

“I think I took a picture of it!” Farfar enthusiastically replied to his wife, grinning at his embarrassed grandson. “I think his mother has it. I’ll have to ask our min lille for it.”

"And here he is at his middle school graduation," she continued, her voice tinged with pride as she showed them a picture of Kento wearing his middle school uniform, trying hard not to smile. His grandparents came all the way to Japan to witness him graduate and celebrate. “I think this was the beginning of his emo phase, honning.”

Farfar looked at the picture closer, then looked at his grandson.��Min kære dreng, was that eyeliner on your eyes?”

“N-no. it was not!”

“You don’t have to be shy about it, Kento!” His partner laughed, ruffling at his hair. “You can totally see the passion in your eyes!”

“But it's not eyeliner!”

“Hmmm, whatever you say!”

His beloved partner was captivated by each photograph, her eyes lingering over every detail as if trying to decipher the essence of Kento's soul captured in each frame. With every turn of the page, she felt as though she was peeling back the layers of his past, uncovering hidden facets of his personality and the moments that had shaped him into the person she adored. In the early snapshots of his childhood, she saw a carefree innocence reflected in his laughter and playful demeanor, a reminder of the joyful spirit that had always radiated from him. 

As they progressed to his teenage years, she observed the subtle changes in his expression – a hint of determination in his eyes as he navigated the challenges of adolescence, a touch of vulnerability beneath his confident facade. Yet, amidst the transformation, there remained a constant thread of authenticity and warmth, a spark of mischief and kindness that had drawn her to him from the very beginning. 

She marveled at how he had grown and evolved over the years, yet beneath the layers of time, there was still that same twinkle in his eyes, the same genuine smile that had captured her heart. And as she traced the contours of his journey through the pages of the photo album, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and affection for the man he had become – a man whose essence transcended the boundaries of time and space, resonating with a timeless charm that had ensnared her heart.

As they reached the end of the album, Kento's grandmother smiled at them both, her eyes shining with affection. "You two make such a lovely couple," she said, her voice soft with emotion. "Even without a picture, you can see so much love just by looking at you.”

Kento squeezed his partner's hand, feeling a rush of gratitude for the love and acceptance of his family. And as they basked in the warmth of their memories and the love that surrounded them, Kento knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be, with the woman who held his heart in her hands.

The evening air was filled with a sense of nostalgia as Kento's grandmother closed the photo album, her smile lingering as she glanced at Kento and his partner. "Thank you for indulging an old woman's desire to reminisce," she said, her voice soft with affection.

Kento's partner leaned forward, a gentle warmth in her gaze as she spoke. "It was such a pleasure to see these moments from Kento's life," she said sincerely. "It feels like I know him even better now."

Kento's heart swelled with gratitude for the understanding and acceptance his partner showed towards his past. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers as he spoke. "I'm so grateful to have you here, sharing these memories with me," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You mean everything to me."

His partner squeezed his hand in response, her eyes shimmering with unspoken love. "And you mean everything to me," she said softly.

Kento's grandmother watched the exchange between the young couple with a knowing smile, her heart brimming with happiness at the sight of their love. "Remember, love is a journey," she said, her voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "It's not just about the destination, but the moments you share along the way."

Kento smiled at his lover.

She coyly smiled back at him.

Mormor and farfar smiled back.

Love was truly in the air.

THEY THOUGHT ABOUT GOING HOME BEFORE DINNER. But his grandparents did not want to send them on their way without having their bellies full. Farfar took charge of the kitchen with a sense of purpose, a twinkle in his eye as he busied himself preparing a traditional Danish dinner. He thought that mormor had worked enough keeping them happy with all her cookies and baked goods through the day and acting as their host. He said he had to do his fair share too. So he had made his dear wife sit and rest while he cooked. It was after all the least he could do. 

With skill honed over years, he expertly assembled smørrebrød, the iconic open-faced sandwiches, with generous portions of frikadeller, tender meatballs bursting with flavor, delicately placed on top. Each slice of dark rye bread was meticulously adorned with a colorful array of toppings – pickled herring, creamy remoulade, crisp lettuce, and tangy slices of cucumber, creating a vibrant tapestry of flavors.

Meanwhile, the aroma of boller i karry, a comforting dish of meatballs in creamy curry sauce, filled the air as it simmered on the stove, infusing the kitchen with the tantalizing scent of spices and herbs. Farfar's skilled hands worked with precision as he lovingly shaped the meatballs, each one a testament to his culinary expertise and dedication to his craft.

For dessert, Farfar prepared a refreshing lemon fromage, a light and airy mousse bursting with zesty citrus flavor. The dessert was a perfect balance of sweetness and tanginess, a fitting end to the hearty meal.

As they gathered around the table, spreading food before offering them a feast for the senses, Kento's partner marveled at the array of dishes before her, each one lovingly prepared with care and attention to detail. The smørrebrød, with its vibrant colors and bold flavors, spoke of Farfar's pride in his Danish heritage. The boller i karry, with its rich and creamy curry sauce, was a testament to his skill in the kitchen, a dish that had been passed down through generations of his family.

And as they savored each bite, washing it down with sips of Carlsberg beer from the fridge, Kento's partner couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the warmth and hospitality of Kento's family. It was a meal that transcended mere sustenance – it was a celebration of family, tradition, and the bonds that held them all together.

As the evening wore on and the laughter and conversation flowed freely, Kento was certain that his partner felt a sense of belonging wash over her. In the comfort of his grandparent’s kitchen, surrounded by the love of Kento's family, she knew that she had found a place where she was welcomed with open arms, a place where she could truly call home.

And as they raised their glasses in a toast to love, family, and good food, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple joys of life and the moments that brought them all together. Today was everything to Kento. He was so certain about that. And he would never trade it for anything else.

After a little bit of banter, Kento was certain that he and his partner had to go. They planned to go to a museum in the morning. He didn't want to impose further onto his grandparents this late. And so, they began the process of bidding farewell. Kento and his partner were in the kitchen, getting some of the leftover curry for the morning from mormor.

It was then that farfar excused himself from the table for a moment. Kento thought that his grandfather would start to go read his book again. Instead he had disappeared for a few moments, rummaging through forgotten corners of the house until he emerged triumphantly, clutching a weathered polaroid camera in his hands. He grinned at all three of them from the door way.

"Ah, look what I've found!" he exclaimed, holding up the vintage camera for all to see. "It's been ages since I've used this old thing. Let's capture a moment to remember, shall we?"

Kento's girlfriend smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with excitement at the prospect of capturing a memory with Kento's farfar's beloved camera. "That sounds wonderful," she said eagerly, rising from her seat to stand beside Kento.

With a flourish, Kento's farfar adjusted the settings on the camera, a look of concentration on his face as he peered through the viewfinder. "Now, let's see... Smile!" he called out, pressing the shutter button with a satisfying click.

The room was filled with anticipation as the polaroid picture began to develop before their eyes, the image slowly emerging from the blank canvas like a magic trick unfolding in real-time. Kento's farfar carefully cradled the polaroid in his hands, a smile spreading across his face as the picture came into focus – a perfect snapshot of Kento and his girlfriend, their smiles bright and their eyes sparkling with joy.

"Ah, what a lovely picture," Kento's farfar exclaimed, his voice filled with pride as he carefully placed the polaroid on the table to join the other cherished memories in the photo album.

His partner could not help but just beam with delight, her heart swelling with gratitude for this unexpected moment of connection with Kento's farfar. "Thank you so much," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "This means the world to us."

Kento's farfar chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wrapped an arm around Kento's shoulders. "It's my pleasure, kære pige," he said warmly. "Just a small token to remember this beautiful evening by."

And as they gathered around the table once more, the polaroid picture nestled among the other cherished memories in the photo album, Kento's heart overflowed with gratitude for the love and warmth of his family, and the timeless bond that connected them all.

Nanami Kento felt gratitude.

He also felt endless joy.

He cherishes the moment.

Framed in polaroid love.

facts about nanami and his beloved partner this chapter:

she was first an editor in denmark for a while before she got transferred to a japanese one because she wanted to be nearer nanami.

nanami inspired his wife to quit her job and start writing. her first book was about him, a salaryman trying to figure out life.

nanami was very close to his maternal grandparents because his paternal grandparents passed away before he was born.

his grandparents started a new volume of the photo album after nanami introduced his partner to them. the new photo album is called, 'our grandchildren'.

the first time nanami introduced (by accident) his partner to gojo, it was gojo who told her about the fact that nanami DID in fact use the eyeliner. nanami swore to never show his partner to gojo ever again (this did not happen, gojo's wife became friends with nanami's partner)

this chapter inspired nanami's partner to want to buy a polaroid. but nanami kept halting her about it until her birthday because he planned to buy it for her as a present.

[risingchaos]

THAT ALL-CONSUMING COTTON FEELING

-

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, Panic Attacks, Hurt No Comfort, If you squint there’s a little at the end, Angst, Whump, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, vivid imagery, no beta we die like jason todd

Language: English

Words: 1,837

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: A long day catches up to Dick Grayson and he has a not great time. Written for Whumptober 2024 - Day One: Panic Attacks

-

It had been a long, long day.

Dick blew out a long breath as he came into his apartment, tapping his forehead against the door a few times for good measure as he just stood there, silently doing up the locks and taking a step back.

He looked over at his kitchen, rubbing absently at his temple to try and remove the tension making his whole scalp tender all day. Rent was due, envelope on the side table with his other mail. He’d have to go by his bank two streets over tomorrow to get it, of course he forgot today. Money would be a little tight, he wasn’t getting paid until next Tuesday, but he’d be fine. Obviously it would be fine.

His shoulders clicked as he rolled them back, cringing at the cracking in his spine accompanying straightening his posture. He wasn’t that old already, was he? He had just gotten home from the hospital, visiting Babs where she was stuck for a while with pneumonia. He’d have to check on her again tomorrow, give everyone updates, but god, right now he couldn’t think. Like his head was just filled with cotton and melted brain, all soaked up and stuffed full.

He needed a distraction, something to pull away from the post-it on the fridge telling him to call Roy. The lingering knowledge that Wally had gotten his leg broken last week, and he was fine now, but he hasn’t been able to make the trip down yet to see him and it made him feel like a shitty friend. He looked around his annoyingly clean apartment, cursing himself for having the foresight to pick up before going. He tossed his phone on to the countertop, holding on to the edges and taking a deep breath. God, it was cold in here. He wanted something to do, something to work towards, something to heat himself up. His bones felt jittery and trapped inside instead of tired like he expected, like he wanted. Was it the phone call from Tim telling him Damian wasn’t sleeping at night that caused this? The plain email with a case from Bruce who needed it done by Sunday without so much of a please?

He shook his head a few times to clear it, probably more aggressively than needed and all it did was aggravate the pounding in his head that was in time with his heart. A rhythm he could feel in his eyes, angry and loud. Good going there.

It was like trying to think through a puzzle box made of steel. Trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube with the stickers rearranged. Actually that would make for a solid joke at Tim next time he saw him, he’d have to try that.

Food? Maybe. Nope, nevermind. The mere thought of having to eat made him feel sicker than the nausea he already had building from hunger. Painkillers, maybe? When was the last time he took them? It seemed like long enough. He opened his eyes he didn’t realize he had closed and tried to focus on the clock. It looked wrong, the numbers shifting in a blurry, headache fueled mess. Huh. Maybe he had been drugged, gone out on patrol and hadn’t realized it until now. He felt himself grabbing lamely at his chest, trying to feel for the insignia underneath, for the rough Kevlar and only meeting the cotton of t-shirt instead.

Very suddenly he found himself trying to catch his breath in the kitchen. Not the worst place to have a panic attack, not the best. Right down the middle. Damn, where was Babs when you needed her? The thought of her in his comm, talking him through a breathing exercise almost helped until he remembered that oh yeah, she’s not here, she’s in the hospital. With real problems. Actual person problems, not just his stupid brain deciding it had enough that day.

Okay. Okay, baby steps. Fuck, his head hurt. One thing at a time. The counter was so cold under his hands. Why was it so cold? He should turn on the heat, though his legs turned to clay underneath him. Nevermind, stay where you are. Won’t do you much good to fall over, crack your skull on the hardwood and bleed out before anyone could know. Breathe, Dick. Breathe. Fucking breathe. In and out, you know how it works. Why wasn’t he? Why wasn’t it working? The hand on his chest migrated up, away from the familiar fork twist trying to turn his ribs into spaghetti and up to his collar, fitting two fingers on the edge and pulling away from his neck. Maybe sitting down would help, would get rid of the horrid kettle sound that he realized with a start was his breathing. He would sit down if he could, if the clay hadn’t hardened already.

Oh God, oh God he was dying. This was how he died. Not heroically in battle. Not falling, decorating Gotham with his blood a final time. Not with any significance, no fanfare, just cold and alone, panic ridden in the dark in his kitchen.

The hand on his collar suddenly released, running through his hair and tugging to find a grounding. He was loose electrons, waiting to find something to cling to. His knuckles were so white against the dark fake stone of his countertop, it was almost laughable if he wasn’t dying. Had he been poisoned? Was Scarecrow waiting for him in the hallway, expecting Nightwing and getting this pathetic excuse of a hero? Fuck, if B could see him now.

His kettle sounds shifted, turning to wet gasps that clogged in his throat with the soaked paper of a dying poet’s words. Like a car trying to start but it was too cold cold cold in here. Out there. Wherever he was. He was marble, then glass, then clay again, molded to whatever worked best for what they wanted. It was selfish to even think it, to think they even knew he changed for them. Was he any better than their rogues?

He could feel the tears in his eyes, joining the sting of asphyxia and his hand tugged harder at his hair, the other shooting to his collar to pull harder to get everything away from his neck, lest he be beheaded by his own clothing. Multitasking. He was good at that. C’mon, Grayson. Just fucking breathe. In two three four, hold two three four, out two three four. Like music. He knew music. If his tongue wasn’t lead in his mouth he’d ask his phone to play something, anything at all.

Maybe the lead was causing the head cotton fog dying clay melted brain feeling. He wasn’t a detective for nothing.

Breathing was working now. His lungs weren’t filled with the same stuffing as his skull. Was it always this difficult to make out shapes? Maybe too many years of too many head blows was catching up to him. He took a step forward, a strangled sound finally escaping at the realization that he wasn’t stuck anymore. His body was back. He wasn’t frozen anymore. He stumbled, hands scrambling to hold onto the freezing counter again. Jesus, he needed to turn on the heat. His teeth were chattering. Though maybe that was the anxiety. No no, cold counter. Breathing. Focus, fucking focus. Breathing. It was working, keep going. The world returned to color again, Wizard of Oz style. Kind of. Metaphors were hard when you were drowning on land.

Slowly but surely, feeling returned to each of Dick’s limbs. The room stopped spinning, ha, more Wizard of Oz jokes. He was killing it. He took another unsteady step. Water. Goddamn he was thirsty. Sea legs swayed with the beat of his heart and his headache, spilling some water over the edges of the cup that he filled in the sink, hands shaking in time with the rattle of his lungs. He knew he shouldn’t drink Blüdhaven tap, it probably would actually kill him. He drank it anyway.

The cotton feeling was back, though with a new twist. Like a Build-A-Bear (he’d have to take Jason and Tim and Damian sometime, the looks on their faces), poked and prodded and chalk full of some stringy mess. His eyes still wouldn’t focus fully, hands unsteady and the glass slipping between dust to the sink basin, clattering loud enough to make Dick jerk away.

He fell, or collapsed, or whatever, he didn’t know, but he ended up on the floor this time, back pressed against his cabinets and the clay feeling back. This time it packed his throat, no air holes to prevent explosion as he gasped and gasped to just breathe again. He didn’t care how he got there, horrid whines he didn’t recognize filling the stinging silence of the room. His legs kicked uselessly for purchase against the hardwood. What for? He didn’t know, but he needed the movement. He needed the heat. He didn’t know if it would bake the clay and he’d choke pitifully right there or if it would melt it, and he’d get to see another day.

When the world started to get speckled with yellows and purples and black feathering, he suspected the former.

Dick felt warm again, as he came back into his body. He didn’t have control yet, all systems offline. Static had joined into the sensations, ringing across his body and filtering through until he felt clear again. He was wheezing softly, but he could breathe. Finally, he could breathe.

He just sat there on the floor for a while. His mind blank, fully bluescreening for the moment, spinny wheel of death, loading and buffering back up. One hand gently touched his face where he could feel the tear tracks cutting down his face, and he shook.

Dick stayed right where he was, and cried. He covered his mouth at first, but all it did was bring back the cotton clay melting static feeling and he dropped it. Instead he sobbed, quiet as he could into the stale air of his tomb, head dropping down to meet his chest where the collar of his shirt was stretched out. Here he was, the pinnacle of independence, refusing to take daddy’s money to pay rent he could barely afford, unable to stop his friends from getting hurt, barely even able to take care of himself. He was so, so tired of it.

He stayed, right there, until the blackbirds came back and coated him in a sleep he hadn’t had in a while.

His back would hurt like a bitch in the morning, hunched up in the corner against the cabinets like this.

He would dream of his friends that night. His family. Fleeting thoughts of happier times and a focus on the past. His history of mistakes, of accidents, of failures and victories. For now though, Dick Grayson slept on the cold floor of his kitchen and rest.

He never did turn the heater on.

[geee-three]

@ace-detectiv3 <3333 thank yewwww,,,

welcome to a crash course on: the vivids. izza edition. consisting of shiraishi an, kiritani haruka, hinomori shiho and akiyama mizuki.

you may be asking. how on earth did these four meet? what the shit is going on? well well well im glad you asked. this is my number one favourite shuffle unit of all time. btw. im not normal about them.

the general gist of it is: an works up the balls to ask haruka to officially be her singing partner before haruka gets scouted. therefore, when haruka gets scouted, she declines. (and is never forced to learn how to smile and therefore always looks bored or pissed. we love autsim in this house /gen). next up is sbibo. with her its more of a branching out in genre after babyneed broke up, and stumbling into vivid street one random day and befriending haruka. i think it probably took a little longer to befriend an (reminded her of saki a liitttle too much) but she starts hanging around there. i dont think shed go at it as a solo performer tho- leoni baby edition had just broken up after all. and ofc she drags miu with her at least once (who does not enjoy the Noises). finally we have mizook. i think this was more a little out of spite that she went to vivid street in the first place. like, yuuki's just left and she ended up too scared to join n25 and maybe she had a fight with rui bc theyre both stressed as fuck and took it out on each other and again, stumbles into vivid street. i think she'd befriend an first. but it doesnt matter bc shes like. "well i GOTTA prove to rui im capable of SOMETHING" and decides. im gonna join these girls and sing.

(importnat info: theyre all in their last year of junior high, at the start of the school year. this means yuuki just left for france, shizuku just started school again, leoneed pg13 ver had broken up not all too long ago, its been two years since rad weekend and souma is in hospital but hasnt been for that long. bad dogs (theyre relevant) formed about a year before this. (also is we wanna care about akito and toya. harumichi is still harubitchy and this is like maybe 6 months after enas attempt. again these guys Do Not Change from canon but they Are Relevant.))

and an is like. well. me and haruka have been besties and partners for a long time since we were kids... and shiho jumps in bc shes nosy like. well mius ignoring me so i'll partner up with the new girl and we'll have a competition and we're gonna be so good. bad dogs would exists by this point so you have an overcompetetive akito running around stirring the pot, dragging toya with him. like ofc bad dogs are being gay but shiho looks to her left and oh shiit. fuck. i maybe wanna actually be singing partners with this girl for real for real rahter than just for this one competition. basically six 14 y/os sing at each other and (predictably) an and haruka win (having the most training). and arata (the bitter bitch) was watching the whole time and honestly these kids have talent but im gonna be mean about it. bc im not coping with souma being gone. so arata comes over and gives unwarrented criticism for no reason other than to be pissy. akito and shiho are PISSED AS FUCK and are already yelling at each other and their egos are fragile so theyre yelling at arata too. and arata criticises mizuki over something and she starts crying and shiho (very recently protective) fully threatens him ("im going to kick the shit outta you for making akiyama cry"-esque thing) adn then attempts to follow through before an has to restrain her.

after everythings calmed down a little bit shiho goes to find mizuki and is like. im sorry about him hes a cuuunnntttttt. anyway. do u wanna be my singing partner for real for real... we can be beginners together... and mizuki says yes... woo!!! ofc mizuki has to tell rui and yuuki about this development and she does and rui is Yet Another Bitter Bitch but he tries to hide it (badly) (hes sad) but mizuki promises him theyll always be friends...

okay. the next few weeks are mostly like. WE GOTTA GET GOOD AKIYAMA WE GOTTA GET GOOD. LETS GO. WOO. OBNOXIOUS AMOUNTS OF FREE TIME. and shiho vaugely becomes friends with fucking shinonome akito becauase hes ALSO on that grindset 💪💪💥💥🔥🔥‼️‼️💯💯 adn theyre dragging mizuki and toya with them whether they like it or not. (they do). an and haruka watch from the sidelines like. hooolly shit theyre going at it huh. the goal right now is to get onto an and harukas level more so than beat radder. mizuki doesnt even know what a rad weekend is outside of 80s slang for a fun saturday and sunday. another competition happens (these arent like offically organised btw. they just. have a group chat or something and decide to do this. theyre very chaotic i love these guys.) and this time bad dogs win. first time haruka and an have lost!! an does not take this well. an is now on that grindset 💪💪💥💥🔥🔥‼️‼️💯💯 and haruka is an unwilling passenger.

so now there are five people frantically scrambling to Get Good and harukas just sipping tea when ken opens the door, raises an eyebrow and asks her to explain. she does. ken makes them all sit down, drink water, then lectures them on safe practice. they collectively ignore this. haruka sighs. they collectively ignore this. BEAR IN MIND. shiho and mizukis dont know what a rad weekend is. so when akito casually brings it up, gasps in horror and pulls up youtube, there is this sudden burning passion in both mizuki and shiho. and they start Plotting. Planning. Scheming. mizuki looks at is properly and is like well. we're gonna have to team up. bc we'll have to write songs and thats Hard and theyve got loads of people and yeah. doing this together is probably the best route. and shiho swallows her pride and says. okay yeah my partner is right we gotta team up. akito refuses. so shihos like fuck you we're teaming up with haruka shes got the braincells anywya. and akitos like wai tno but its too late. (and toyas happy to technically keep akito all to himself anyway. hes. not been very relevant so far. hes so passive in middle scchool like BESTIE take action!! but he Does Not.)

so the vivids is formed of haruka, an, shiho, and mizuki. akito insists bad dogs is a seperate group in close collaboration. then when kotaro turns up hes just Also in close collaboration.

asdhahshsdakjhfkjhasdfkjhasjdgjhajsdgjasdgjhgfdjkgfalhgjhjhkajhdsfjdghjhjsdghfhguasfghuasugfusadudfguahsldgfulhasdgfuhashhkldfslakjhasfdghjsadfyrtwiueydgrufhhwacggcjv adfb. the them. yeah. friendship is magic. or smth.

kizuna time woo baybee plus kotaro and bad dogs shiho + mizuki: an impropteu pair, sticking together, secret love of all things cute an + shiho: daughters of musicans, staying on top, let me help you already! shiho + haruka: unreadable expressions, fire and ice, protective partners mizuki + an: hit it off!, someone i'll rely on, dont fall behind now mizuki + haruka: an + haruka: childhood partners, expanding our circles, staying true to you shiho + akito: reignited dream, chase our horisons, packed schedules akito + an: bad at studying, strength in numbers, blue-haired partners who look like idols toya + mizuki: held up by their passion, halfway there, quit pretending to be something youre not akito + mizuki: wavering in private, fashion fanatics, when did i become lil bro? (obligitory akito + toya: bad bods, trustworthy partner, i want to sing with only you)

[sarangbe]

𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, streets of seoul, late-summer, day. 𝒕𝒍𝒅𝒓, sarang catches up with moon jinyoung.

the weather outside is beginning to grow colder; the breeze that rustles through the trees chilling his bones more than it was mere days prior. while the fast approach of winter can be seen as inconvenient, or even unwelcome, to some people, to yeom sarang, it's rather exciting. ever since he was a kid, he's always adored the transitional seasons. he was born in the springtime, so he feels right at home whenever the cherry blossoms bloom and the sun becomes stronger, but not as harsh as it is in summertime. then, later in the year, his fondness for layering garments and crocheting sweaters comes in handy when the leaves become repainted by nature; their once evergreen hues taking on the vivid chroma of flames and sunshine.

both seasons are a win for him, and as he makes his way through the city, he catches glimpses of his outfit in shop windows; en route to the studio jinyoung works at.

he remembers the hours upon hours they spent confined in those four walls. the music would blare through the speakers, their limbs and brows would glisten with sweat, and their hearts would pound after running through choreography for what felt like ages. sarang has always felt thankful to jinyoung for helping him, and even to this day, is dumbfounded at how he took first place in "next gen" while his friend walked away without any sort of prize. it makes him feel guilty, or unworthy, because all he has to offer the world is a beautiful face and effortless charisma. jinyoung has both, and much more, and all he can hope is that his longtime pal finally gets his chance to shine. there's no one more deserving than he is, in sarang's mind.

finally arriving at their once shared space, he enters the building and sees that the class jinyoung is teaching is still in-session. they're doing cool-down exercises right now, and not wanting to disturb, he sits on a chair in the back of the room; offering a smile and a wave to all who are present, hoping that he doesn't startle anyone.

though, when the class concludes, he waits for everyone to leave before making a beeline to jinyoung; beaming. "hi, remember me?" he begins, voice a singsongy lilt. "i was in the neighborhood, and i know this is a surprise, but i was just thinking about you, and thought we could hangout... if you didn't already have other plans."

sarang takes in the sight of him and grins; finding him to be just as handsome as before, or even more-so, if that's possible. "what do you say?"

[andithiel]

Happy birthday @etalice !

Today is my dear friend Etalice’s birthday, and we usually have this wonderful tradition of trying to make each other cry through angsty fics (ah the fandom experience, so wholesome!). However, this past year has been a shit show and a half and I haven’t had the headspace for writing for some time, so I thought I’d take a leaf out of @sassy-sassy3 book (and I think I’ve seen this done by others previously as well) and rec a few of Etalice’s fics as a birthday gift. I haven’t been able to choose any favourites because all of Etalice’s fics are amazing, but I’ve tried to make a variety selection. I've also tried to be clever and illustrate it with this spider silk because, much like Etalice's writing, it's delicate and pretty but also extremely strong. It will rip your heart out but you will also find comfort and healing through it. Happiest of birthdays to you my dear friend, I hope we'll be able to break each other's hearts next year ❤️ (Also I’m really sorry I’m not including any real commentary for these, my brain has been replaced with porridge due to a nasty cold.)

The funny thing about grief and time (Snarry | Explicit | 43,6 k)

Later, Harry will start telling people he fell in love with Severus after the war.

It will not quite be a lie.

Ode to the number two (Pansmione | Teen | 2,4 k)

Redesigning the official Ministry Robes seems like the logical thing to do.

Hermione suggests it a month after she is elected Minister for Magic. There is something uncomfortable about wearing the same old robes that haunted those same old hallways during the war, back when the Ministry was a different place and the weight of cowardice broke everyone’s back. It is an appropriate way of signalling a new era, Hermione feels, dressing up everyone in different clothes and more vivid colours.

It really seems like a good idea.

And then Pansy shows up.

The one in which Hermione thinks in maths and graphs and equations and pines after Pansy while Pansy pines after her.

True Love, Found At Sea (Drarry | Gen | 1,7 k)

Harry Potter, a confirmed bachelor, is perfectly fine with his life. And then, for no comprehensible reason whatsoever, Hermione goes and signs him up for a singles' Christmas cruise.

This is a journey and we call it home (Drarry | Mature | 4,5 k)

The first time Harry storms out to sulk on the streets of London, you sit on the floor, and you count your breaths, and you try very hard not to cry. It’s the middle of your first fight, and you’re so afraid it means it won’t work out. You’re so afraid that you’re too broken, in the aftermath of the war, too anxious and too clingy for the relationship to ever work.

When Harry comes back, you sit him down, and you talk through all his issues with him. He apologises, and he opens up about how difficult it is for him, this post-war world in which he’s not needed so badly anymore. How he doesn’t know what to do with himself. You’re happy, that night. Satisfied it’s all going to work out. Proud that he made the first step out of his shell and into the world.

Harry does not stop storming out.

A timeless tale of love and emotional labour.

The wolf underneath your skin (Snupin | Gen | 2,6 k)

You want to punch him. You want to hear the sound of his teeth on the stone-hard floor. You want to smear your knuckles in blood, you want to scream your betrayal in iron-red paint across his face. You want pain and spit and bruises that bloom like watercolour peonies under the skin.

A scene of What's past is prologue, from another perspective.

More than poison and dark (Drarry | Gen | 995 words)

No one ever entirely recovers from a war. The loudness of it, and the way everyone’s eyes shone with recklessness and fear - it keeps on living underneath your skin, it makes your flesh poison and your bones brittle. It doesn’t manifest the same for everyone, of course, the stain of violence and death, but it’s always there, beneath the surface, an apple rotting from its core.

In which the fat lady forgets her name, Draco refuses to acknowledge his, and Harry Potter is desperately in love.

Long live the beautiful heart (who find love and tear it apart) (Hinny | Gen | 6,6 k)

If Harry were someone else, someone who loves and understand books, someone like Hermione or Draco, he might think of a classical tragedy. He might section the whole catastrophe neatly into five acts and make sense of it that way. But he’s not, and so he doesn’t, and, anyway it’s just the beginning of the story yet.

In the wake of the war, Harry collapses.

Lovely podfic by @thirdeye1234 can be found here

[mommabird1772]

BIRD MOM'S SASTIEL FIC RECOMMENDATIONS:

* The Other Guardian series by red_river (https://archiveofourown.org/series/60685)

Words: 323,527 Rating: Gen-Teen

This series is my favorite one to recommend to people because it has everything. Slow burn? Check. Case fic? Check. Boys trip to Vegas? Check! Month long christmas section? It's got that too! Add in a less-than-helpful Dean for some comedy gold, and you've got a well rounded adventure complete with vivid descriptions that leave this fangirl biting the lapels of her bathrobe to keep all the feelings in. A MUST READ.

* Atrophy (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12394614/chapters/28201824) and Borderline (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559967) by saintsurvivor@saintsurvivors

Words: 12,622 and 3,488 Rating: Teen and Gen

As a person on the asexual spectrum, I value emotional intimacy over anything physical or sexual. These two fics introduce us to a barely hanging on Sam hiding his mental struggles from Dean, in desperate need of someone to catch him before he falls apart. The solution appears to him late at night in a mixture of "peppermint ozone and electric sheet-lightening that isn't". A beautifully intricate series.

*A Quantum of Solace by Celesma (https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843025/chapters/11093657)

Words: 72,900 Rating: Teen

Sam gets hit by a witch's shrinking spell. The focus on Sam and Cas's growing relationship and the way Cas tenderly takes care of tiny!Sam, forcing Sam to view Cas from a different perspective (literally), is really unique and defintely worth a read.

*Changing Everything by letmegeekatyou (@legacysam)(https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400254/chapters/5306708)

Words: 19,329 Rating: Teen

Set in an Alternate Universe, closed off Cas owns a well-kept bookstore next to a bakery run by an optimistic and bubbly Sam. With the help of Charlie and a small appearance by Anna, Sam attempts to help Cas deal with the PTSD from his military past and adjust to a life outside of his normal routine.

*Strength and Grace by posingasme (@posingasme)(https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495842/chapters/10221819)

Words: 46,082 Rating: Gen

Set in an alternate universe, Dean suffers permanent brain damage after an accident, forcing Sam to give up his dancing career to take care of him. Everything changes one night as Sam comes across an old, abandoned Church, and eventually meets a stranger who's a Slovak punk street artist named Cas. Beautifully intricate fic.

*Castopus; or Twenty-Thousand Leagues Out of the Sea by kidezt (https://kidezt.livejournal.com/11871.html)

Words: 8,934 Rating: Teen

Cas is accidentally turned into an octopus. Crack fic. Comedy gold. The way Sam delicately handles Cas and the new situation is a tribute to his character.

* Collaboration by posingasme (@posingasme) ((https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732256/chapters/8272111)

Words: 62,378 Rating: Teen (sexual content, homophobia, homophobic slurs, PTSD induced panic attacks)

In this AU, Sam is a counsoler at a LGBTQIA+ youth center, and Cas is a teacher across the street at the private Catholic school. When the two groups are forced to do a community project together, Sam and Cas find themselves growing closer to each other as Cas's past threatens to catch up with him. As a newly discovered Queer Catholic, I felt very reaffirmed by this fic. The results of the group project at the end were amazing.

* Plant Pathologist vs. Zombie Lawyers by Annie D (scaramouche) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/67321)

Words: 7,294 Rating: Teen

In this story, the Winchesters own a family farm, with Dean and Bobby as managers who hire Cas to oversee the land's well being. Will shy lawyer Sam work his way into the heart of bitter socially awkward entomologist Cas? Find out in this cute fic!

* Construction Site by posingasme (@posingasme)(https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466189/chapters/51156277)

Words: 21,134 Rating: Explict (PTSD, panic attacks, discussions of past rape/non con not between Sam and Cas, sexual content)

Sam is an ex miltary officer with severe PTSD from the things he saw and the people he left behind, working a simple construction job at a railroad company and just trying to stay relatively sane. When Sam finds a runaway teenage Jack in the woods and attempts to help him, it leads to Sam having a trauma-induced panic attack. It's Jack's father Cas who shows up to calm him down and take him back to their house to recover. Is it possible for Sam and Cas to save each other from their dark and tragic histories? Beautifully written, but very dark at some points so please heed the warnings.

* That's Two Stones with One Bird (Or a Flock, Actually) by senttothebrink (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017451/chapters/2022718)

Words: 6,389 Rating: Teen

Drunk!Cas asks Dean advice on how to show Sam he loves him. Dean, being the kind of person he is, takes the opportunity to mess with Cas. No flamingos were harmed in the writing of this fic.

* Hush by posingasme (@posingasme) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350127/chapters/12354554)

Words: 20,008 Rating: Gen (mentions of sex, no sexual content)

In this teachers AU, Sam is a janitor at the high school where Dean teaches and coaches wrestling. Despite his struggles with selective mutism, Sam always an effort to speak to Cas, the cute, interesting, albeit messy, history teacher. Just two awkward nerds falling in love, featuring Dean as the protective older brother, with a side of asshole John. Did I mention I love this fic? Because wow <3

*Say Uncle by posingasme (@posingasme)(https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916496/chapters/24276216)

Words: 14,430 Rating: Gen (warning for repeated use of the r-word slur)

Can you tell I love this author? In this work, Sam is a patient and understanding therapist who volunteers to help an autistic Cas handle being the sudden caretaker of his typical teenage niece Claire after the death of Cas's brother and wife, but ends up finding a friend and falling in love at the same time. Having a social disability myself, I love how Sam treats Cas with respect from the first meeting, and is understanding and non judgemental about any glaring social mistakes Cas makes. The way Sam checks in with Cas to make sure he's comfortable at various points in their budding relationship makes me want to cry tears of joy. A heartwarming family fic to prove that sometimes the best family is the one you make for yourself.

* Misery and Happiness by OsirisApollo (https://archiveofourown.org/works/9817703/chapters/22044464)

Words: 11,511 Not rated

A very unique story that takes you into the mind of Cas as he struggles to comprehend the new human feelings he's experiencing around Sam, and how to convince Sam to love him back. Cas decides to take an intellectual approach to the situation, with humorously frustrating results, featuring helpful clueless Dean. It's adorable how much consideration and effort Cas puts into trying to court Sam. Very cute fic.

* Shelter by Fallynleaf (https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988315)

Words: 9,548 Rating: Teen

Set in a AU where Dean is the only one that ends up in purgatory, Sam and Cas are forced to deal with Dean's glaring absence by settling into a somewhat domestic situation when a chance encounter with a stray dog leaves them with an entirely new rescue mission, and finds Sam and Cas growing closer together in the process. The ending is a little abrupt and painful, but overall a very nice domestic tale.

* Wrap Your Roots All Around My Bones by ad_castra (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30763463)

Words: 7,250 Rating: Teen (descriptions of blood and violence in the beginning)

A rare look into a Queer Platonic-like relationship between Sam and Cas, where Cas comforts Sam after a bad day of hunting. Featuring bed sharing, cuddling, Sam's self worth issues, past trauma, caretaker Cas, Enochian, Cas's true form, and love confessions, this story is definitely one of a kind. Amazing.

* Hold Me Together by letmegeekatyou (@legacysam)(https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517732)

Words: 1,239 Rating: Gen

Sam and Cas have to to share a bed after a hunt, and find comfort in each other's touch. This is a simple one, but I really like the emphasis on the Sam and Cas feeling grounded and safe with each other. A beautiful example to showcase the point that intimate physical contact doesn't always lead to sex. Sometimes it's just nice to hold each other, and know someone's there for you when you need them to be.

* and each breath you take is a brand new beginning by occasionally_always (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31489967) (@bradygirlbloodfreak)

Words: 4,332 Rating: Gen

Sam and Cas talk about Sam's lack of body autonomy and Cage trauma, and Sam allows Cas to possess him in an attempt to feel comfortable with himself again. It's overwhelmingly respectful and compassionate in a way that Sam has never experienced before. Beautifully written.

*If Only In My Dreams by posingasme (@posingasme)(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100787)

Words: 2,931 Rating: Gen

Drunk!Sam attempts a spell to make himself more desirable to Cas, then becomes upset when it apparently doesn't work. Sassy, self-depreciative Sam and patient, confused Cas to show Sam that sometimes the best things are hidden in plain sight. What a delightful little fic!

* a circle of quiet by Celesma (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789261)

Words: 2,432 Rating: Teen (mentions of past trauma)

Another great example that platonic touches and kisses do wonders for the soul, especially a touch and intimacy-starved Sam who's self worth is the size of a pea. Luckily Cas is here to reassure him and give him all the love he needs.

* Rock, River, Tree series by posingasme (@posingasme) (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1013592)

Words: 15, 246 Rating: Teen-Mature

Posing does a great job addressing mental health issues in her fics, and this one is certainly no exception. In this two-part series, Sam struggles with manic depression and bipolar disorders, and it's up to his partner Cas and his brother Dean to stick with Sam through both the highs and lows of their chaotic lives. This story makes my heart ache in both a beautiful and tragic way for how much love and support Sam receives. Simply gorgeous.

*If you are an author who's story is on this list and you would like to be tagged, or you want me to review one of your works (Sastiel only, please!) , send me an ask or a DM*

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

Please give us all of your Joly headcanons, or at least a few favorites that come to mind. Canon era, modern au, sci fi or fantasy, any other au, I’ll take anything. The world has far too little Joly appreciation content.

Hey! Sorry I took so long getting to this, I immediately forgot everything I ever knew about The Character Known As "Joly" the second that you sent this.

Okay, so I HC second gen Japanese-American Joly because Why Not? They speak Japanese fluently and have visited family over there extensively. They have studied dajare (Japanese plays on words, a common form of humor) like an art form and have never even once let others' ability to understand whatever language they need to use to make a joke prevent them from doing so. They have meticulously absorbed every Japanese (and American, and some other cultures') superstition and apply whichever ones they find convenient or interesting with Rigorous and Reckless Abandon.

They are the absolute monarch of selective application of caution. They always wear slippers indoors -- Why? Would you wear??? Your outdoor shoes??? Indoors????? -- but regularly go to bed in their street clothes. The whole house must be perfectly feng shui, including their drawer of interesting pieces of broken glass they've woken up drunk in alleyways next to. The fridge gets deep-cleaned weekly, and they have the perfect cookies to down that milk that no one remembers buying several weeks (months?) ago with. Absolutely believes in learning the contents of their textbooks via pillow osmosis in their sleep and refuses to study any other way.

@p-trichor also has had some banger HCs, the ones that come most readily to mind now being *turning out the contents of their stomach after singlehandedly downing an entire handle of liquor* "Do you think it was the sautéed mushrooms?" (paraphrased) and

[Enjolras] had a vivid memory of Joly loudly announcing children, remember to drink loads of water if you're going to cry yourself to sleep . . . [Joly] had then proceeded to chug a bottle of vodka.

We are talking zero brain cells in this entire vehicle, and they have and will never let it stop them from having a good time.

[swissmissficrecs]

Any PTSD Sherlock fics? Thank you as always.

Reply: Yes, definitely! First off, here are some older, related lists:

PTSD John

John discovers Sherlock’s scars + Part 2

Sherlock Whump

PTSD tag

And from that tag, here are the ones where Sherlock is the sufferer:

PTSD Sherlock

A River Without Banks by Chryse (203K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) "You love this, being Sherlock Holmes." He had once. When had it all gone so wrong?

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (188K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock sent Jim Moriarty to prison for killing Carl Powers at age ten.   This is the story of the consequences.

Andante by uraneia (12K, T, Johnlock) Three months afterward, a stranger appears at 221B. (AKA: The one where Sherlock shows up on John’s doorstep with serious injuries and amnesia, and John thinks he’s a homeless man seeking medical attention.)

Command Structure by 221b_hound (49K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty's network. He has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline - the whip - to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect.  

Hounds by quietasasleepingarmy (21K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock enlists John's help with a case that falls far beyond his area of expertise. Post-HLV.

I'll Follow You Into the Dark by fearfully_beautifully_made (19K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's got quite an imagination, he always has. As a child, he had very vivid dreams; they come back with a vengeance after all that has happened in the past few years. Luckily for him, his best friend moved back in and has some experience with PTSD and nightmares. He seems more than willing to lend a helping hand.

Johnlock Advent 2018 by sussexbound (47K, E, Johnlock) Starting today (the 1st of December) and all the way up to the 25th, the chapter of a fic and accompanying drawing will be posted here (and on my tumblr).  It’s so great, and we are all very excited.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (57K, M, Johnlock) An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (39K, M, Johnlock) Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (87K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Written from Sherlock's POV.

Not the Fall that Kills You by Ranowa (39K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock's been falling ever since he stepped off Bart's roof two years ago. Now, he's back home, but as it turns out, he's still not ready to land. (Part of a longer series but can be read alone.)

Not the King’s Men by StoneWingedAngel (56K, T, Johnlock) John finds Sherlock three years after he thought he'd buried him, scared and injured; broken to such an extent he can barely recognise those trying to help him. Battling against too many unanswered questions and his own feelings, John sets out to put him back together, but never stops to consider Sherlock's return may be part of a greater punishment in store for the both of them. (Note: This fic has been deleted, the link goes to the Wayback Archive. Download and save, as it may disappear at any time.)

On the Rack by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier (286K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock goes to rehab (of the other sort), starts scraping his life back together, attempts to solve a case, and tries to make sense of what it actually means to be in a relationship.

Sharp Bits and Safe Paths by midgetnazgul (22K, E, Johnlock) John learns Sherlock sacrificed much more than he ever could have believed in his time away.

Sherlock, P.I. by Callie4180 (83K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Sherlock, P.I. is an American television show that follows the exciting adventures of genius private investigator Sherlock Homes and his friends as they live their lives on the beautiful island of Oahu in Hawaii. Sherlock solves crimes as he wrestles with the ghosts and demons of his past.

That Obscure Object by emmadelosnardos (23K, T, Johnlock) Danger was a green pool in an inner courtyard, the wet slide of skin against skin, the risk of being caught. Danger was a needle under the floorboards, opium in the toe of a slipper, the subterfuge of his habit. Danger was a shabby cabbie, even odds, an aneurysm.

The Broken Tether by J_Baillier (54K, M, Johnlock) Maybe he thinks that you only enjoy his company because of the Work, because of the way his dazzling intellect shines when he's in his element, but the truth is this: it is when he is at his most human, most bare, that you feel closest to him.

The Fabric of Life - orphaned (156K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) The fabric of life rearranges itself around the re-emergence of Sherlock.

The Ground Beneath Your Feet by Chryse (68K, E, Johnlock) Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

The Holiday by Scriblit (18K, M, Gen) A month following an horrific, sadistic attack during a case, Sherlock is still physically incapacitated and emotionally damaged. A holiday is suggested, but even stuck out in the middle of nowhere, he and John happen upon a case that could make Sherlock begin to feel like his old self again - or could kill him.

The Silence After by wendymarlowe (25K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock may have physically survived his abduction, but in his mind he'll never be whole again.  John understands PTSD, understands what Sherlock is going through, and is determined to be patient.  Angst, hurt/comfort, and eventual Johnlock as Sherlock tries to rebuild his ability to trust.

The Victim Experience by J_Baillier (16K, T, Gen) A case takes Sherlock and John deep into the seedy underbelly of the haunted attractions industry. With audiences craving more and more intense experiences, is a real murder the next logical step?

Truth May Vary by amalnahurriyeh (93K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Seven years after Sherlock's death, John's life is normal.  And then it isn't.

Underground Rescue by khorazir (48K, M, Johnlock) All kinds of danger lurk in the disused stations of the London Underground. When Sherlock goes missing, John has to play detective to find him, while Sherlock faces demons both present and past.

White Tulip by withoutawish (40K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Sherlock is in love with John Watson.  John Watson is in love with Mary Morstan.  Sherlock likes Mary Morstan just fine.  Sherlock likes drugs more.  And most importantly, Sherlock doesn’t like Sherlock.

You Go to My Head series by J_Baillier (865K, T to E, Johnlock) This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon). (Several of the installments deal with PTSD in some form or other.)

Your Perfect Offering by CaitlinFairchild (44K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock rolls away and sits up on the edge of the bed, his back to John.“A great many things happened in Serbia,” he says, flat and remote. “None of them were pleasant.”

[aipurjopa]

Vivid Street: Next Gen (AU)

Aged up Vivid Bad from my AU featuring my girlfailure prsk oc

[overwatchworks]

There Were Four:

This is part of a Blackwatch AU of mine where Hanzo and Genji left the clan and joined Blackwatch thanks to Jesse, and (human) Zenyatta decided to put the fist in pacifist in order to ensure changes would be made around the world after Mondatta was killed by joining Overwatch (and eventually moved to the Blackwatch strike team). 

I take massive liberties as to how far their abilities stretch in this as well, so if it seems a little op, it is. 

A small strike team was all that had been required for this kind of mission. It should have been a simple search and seizure of an alleged weapon Talon was building. It should have been quick. And of course, it hadn’t been. 

Hanzo tapped an impatient finger against the ledge of the building he was laying on, positioned to be hidden and still able to scope out the enemy. His bow lay next to his right hand, quiver nestled snugly on his back.

“Got anythin’?”

Hanzo sighed, pressing the comm.

“No.”

“Damn, I’m bored as all hell.”

“Me too.”

“I would literally take getting shot at over this,” Genji grumbled, Hanzo shifting his gaze to the general direction his brother was stationed in. 

“You are going to jinx us,” Zenyatta piped up. Hanzo huffed a laugh.

“I would take a jinx at this point too,” Genji muttered. 

It sounded like he had his chin on his arm. Hanzo found the strangely vivid visual with a bored looking Genji that followed the words vaguely amusing. Which meant he was also bored as all hell, if that was all it took to entertain him. He was about to reply when movement below him caught his eye.

“Wait. Gen, you got eyes on those guys to your two o’clock?” Hanzo murmured, crouching down lower, eyes locked on the line of men below him.

“Yeah. Standard issue Talon weapons, laser sight,” Genji answered immediately.

“Oh, would you look at that? I was correct...” Zenyatta sighed, annoyance clear in his voice.

“I got eyes on a crate leavin’ the back. They’re headin’ for a van, no license plate.”

“Copy. Zen, Jesse, stay in position. Genji, you go top floor, I’m right behind you.”

“Finally.”

Hanzo slung his bow over his back, stepping away from the ledge a few paces before running and leaping off the edge. He felt himself falling, ten stories above the street, still three jumps away from the next building. Hanzo glanced down, saw Zenyatta watching him, hands moving, platforms of gold patterns forming below his feet. 

He pushed off of one, felt the next launch him up, the final one allowing him to leap and roll onto the next building’s roof.

“A little warning next time, Hanzo...” Zenyatta grumbled, Hanzo smiling as he entered the roof access.

“I knew you’d be there.”

“You were falling into a highway.”

“Key word there being ‘were’.”

Zenyatta muttered something in exasperated Nepali.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the van’s about to take off,” Jesse warned.

“Okay...So, why is that bad news?” Genji asked, Hanzo moving through the building silently, wondering the same thing. 

He jumped to the next one, running and catching the ledge of a window on the warehouse the Talon agents were guarding. Hauled himself up and slipped inside, landing in a crouch. No alarms had been set off, yet.

“Well, scan says they got radioactive material mixed with a funky electromagnetic field.”

“Again, so what?”

“So, it’s a bomb,” Hanzo growled.

“Oh, shit.”

“For humans and omnics,” Jesse added. 

Hanzo went down a flight of stairs, then paused at a window, assessing the drop. Talon agents were gathered below, said van being loaded. Zenyatta inhaled quietly, the sound of him running following his reply.

“We cannot just let them get away with that!”

“We won’t. I’m engaging.”

“Han—”

Hanzo curled his hand around one of his arrow heads so just the point of it was peeking through his fist, slamming it against the window and breaking it. He threw himself out, nocking his bow and hitting a guard before he landed with a roll. Hanzo immediately stood and shot another two, shattered glass still raining down on him. Lept behind cover as the agents started to open fire on him.

“I got the van, I’m to your left, Hanzo,” Jesse called, Hanzo glancing up at the gunslinger as he shot at the van. 

The hover-pads of the van short-circuited as they were shot, the sound rivaling that of the bullets ricocheting through the back alley.

“You got reinforcements coming in from the warehouse!” Genji shouted. 

Hanzo shot a storm arrow at the warehouse doors as they opened, three Talon soldiers falling in succession.

“Jesse, you’re going to have to take care of the guards by the van, I’ve got a situation.” 

“Yeah, I see that—Ngh!”

Hanzo spared a look over his shoulder at Jesse, saw him ducking behind the van and heard some more grunting.

“Jess, you okay?!” Genji called. No response. 

Hanzo glared at the Talon agents in front of him, taking one out with each arrow, steadily backing towards the van. He was going to get overrun at this rate. A bullet clipped his cheek, another slicing past his temple in a streak of searing red. Hanzo cursed, eyes widening slightly as he realized there was no cover.

“Shit—!”

Zenyatta landed in front of him right as he was about to duck, a wave of purple energy shooting out from the impact. A row of Talon guards fell from it, Zenyatta twirling and flinging disks of discord as he backed towards Hanzo. He didn’t miss, Hanzo shooting over his shoulder as he held up a larger golden shield.

“Go back to the van, I will get on high ground!” Zenyatta demanded.

There was a flash of movement above him, Genji leaping in front of him with a flurry of shruiken and flashes of bullets being deflected.

“Go help Jesse, I got this!” Genji yelled, hand curled around the hilt of his sword. 

Hanzo nodded, running towards the van as he heard Ryū-ichimonji unsheathe, the air shifting as Genji’s dragon was unleashed. Zenyatta shouted something to Genji, then lept onto his blade, balancing on one foot, the ninja making an upwards swinging motion as Zenyatta jumped from it, a burst of discord launching him into the air with Genji’s help. 

He made it to a window, disappearing inside as Genji lunged into the Talon soldiers, cutting through their ranks. Hanzo slid over the hood of the van after making sure Zen had made it safely, his reflexes being the only thing to save him from getting a fist to the face.

“Woah—!”

Hanzo dropped and knocked the legs out from under the Talon agent, then heard a familiar gunshot. The agent went still, Jesse’s lip curled as he spat blood onto the ground.

“They knocked my comm out. Van’s got some serious jammers on it,” He muttered, opening the front door.

“Should we just—” Hanzo stopped abruptly as he was interrupted by the gunslinger shooting the control panel. The screens cracked and went black, the van shutting down.

“Okay, or we can do that.” 

“It’ll keep ‘em from takin’ it, at least.”

“It’ll keep us from taking it too...” Hanzo muttered, Jesse shrugging and grinning with bloodied teeth.

“Yeah, that’s the point! It probably ain’t a great idea to drive this at all, especially with Genji around.”

“Hey! Quit chit chatting and fucking help me!” Genji shouted, Hanzo startling slightly as his brother rolled under the van and popped back up into a crouch next to them.

“The hell’d you come from?!”

“We can’t let them shoot the van up, it could set off the bomb,” Hanzo hissed, peeking out from behind their cover.

“Yeah, well, I can’t deflect that many bullets.”

“I can use deadeye, but I need cover.”

“I can provide that cover,” Zenyatta piped up over the comm. Hanzo looked towards the top of the warehouse, the monk standing at the edge. He waved, Hanzo smiling and giving him a little salute back.

“Genji, Hanzo, you work on dwindling their numbers, we can’t have Jesse overusing deadeye,” He demanded, hands moving and tattoos lighting up golden bright enough to be seen from where they were hiding.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Jesse nodded, holding up his gun in a two handed grip and closing his eyes, back against the van.

“Got it.”

“Alright, I can hold a shield this size for only a few seconds, work quickly. Now!”

Hanzo slipped out from their cover, shooting through the massive, intricate shield in front of them, Genji running beside him, throwing shruiken. The Talon soldiers looked around in a mild panic as their numbers went down to the advancing Blackwatch agents, their own attacks proving to be useless. 

Hanzo nocked his last arrow, tattoo lighting up and crackling as he summoned his dragons. They burst from his arrow in a flash of blue lightning, a distraction as the shield slowly disappeared and Jesse stood on top of the van, gun leveled, his right eye glowing red. Shots went off, then there was silence. 

Zenyatta hopped off the building and landed next to Hanzo and Genji gracefully, Jesse spinning his gun and joining them in the middle of the alley.

“We did it!” Genji cheered, throwing his hands up. He was bleeding from a couple of bullet wounds and cuts, though, that didn’t seem to bother him. 

Hanzo winced slightly as Zenyatta swiped a gentle finger over the cut on his cheek, hands alight with harmony. Jesse set his arm on Genji’s head, leaning against him. The white of his eye was red, face bruising, but he was relaxed.

“We sure did.”

Hanzo glanced at all the Talon forces sprawled on the ground throughout the alley.

“I guess an entire facility’s worth of guards wasn’t enough,” He hummed, Zenyatta rolling his eyes.

“It almost was.”

“Again, you have to focus on those key words, such as ‘almost’.”

“Oh, hush, you.” 

Hanzo chuckled softly as Zenyatta tended to his wounds quickly. The monk moved on to Genji, setting down a biotic field as Jesse commed Commander Reyes. 

“Hey, Boss. Just sent the coordinates; got a bomb here that needs to be dismantled and a couple of hungry agents that’re ready for dinner.”

“Oh, hell yeah, I’m starving!” Genji piped up, Hanzo nodding in agreement. Almost dying did often leave quite the appetite afterwards. Even Zenyatta smiled and bobbed his head.

“You...Took on everyone at that facility?” Reyes asked skeptically. Hanzo glanced at the warehouse, the troops piled in front of it, raising a brow.

“Aye aye, cap, we sure did.”

“And everyone is still in one piece?”

Jesse grinned, wiping at some blood that had started to drip from his eye.

“Yessir, only a few bullet holes here!”

“Goddamn. Copy that. You got an airship coming, eta fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you kindly, Jefe.” 

“Sometimes you kids scare me with what you’re capable of, you know that?” Reyes sighed. 

Hanzo smirked, arms crossing over his chest as Zenyatta narrowed his eyes, lips curling up slightly. Jesse grinned devilishly, Genji raising his brows with a cold smile.

“I believe we do, Commander.” ~~

[miramodhvadia]

Neon

Neon colors percolated in 2018 in accessories and streetwear, and they are set to explode in 2019 as luxury players like Prabal Gurung, Brandon Maxwell and Off-White give the intense hues red carpet approval. The colors—mostly neon yellow and green—play up the nostalgic feeling of other ’90s items like mini backpacks, cropped jean jackets and bike shorts, while adding an instant cool factor to contemporary sportswear. The throwback color scheme also lends itself well to the growing category of Instagram-worthy travel wear. Expect to see fast fashion retailers go wild for neon this spring/summer.

Tie-dye

DIY’ers are in luck. Tie-dye, that youth-driven trend that remerges every 20 years or so, is spiraling back into fashion in 2019 but with a designer touch. A symbol of slacker style, disenchanted youth and activism, the trend sums up the independent spirit of Gen Z and millennial consumers. And with designers like Louis Vuitton and MSGM offering the psychedelic print, we expect tie-dye to further fuel the market’s obsession for highbrow versions of street, surf, skate (and every other recreational activity in between) style.

Mini backpacks

The mini backpack—the accessory made famous by Cher Horowitz and her squad in the ’90s teen film Clueless—proves good things come in small packages. Consider the mini backpack as the offspring of two major accessories trends from 2018: the backpack and the fanny pack. Both bags filled the gap in demand for more traditional fashion styles like totes and satchels. Plus, functional as it is fashionable, mini backpacks offer brands a petite canvas to play with other ’90s trends like neon colors, logos and leopard print.

Lingerie as daywear

Silky camisole tops, spaghetti strap slips and baby doll dresses were de rigueur of teen girl idols of the ’90s. The “Lolita” look was worn by everyone from Drew Barrymore and Courtney Love, to most of the Spice Girls. However, the lingerie-inspired trend is updated for 2019 through a more mature lens. The silhouettes remain the same, but designers are ditching cutesy frills and ditzy prints in favor of sophisticated transparent layering and silk for daytime.

Track suits

With athleisure being a bona fide fashion category, it’s not surprising that ’90s-style track suits are the next sport-inspired trend to infiltrate street style. The suits—be it the classic three stripes, color blocked windbreakers or logo emblazoned sets—were the de facto comfort uniform in the ’90s for teens, boybands, suburban moms and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. And the design hasn’t changed much over the years. Comfort remains a top priority, as well as oversized silhouettes, unisex design and statement color. Expect to see designers elevate the leisure look for night with satins and silks.

Goth

The styling of ’90s goth rocker Marilyn Manson is tame compared to today’s standards of shock fashion, but back then the verdict was still out on black latex, ripped hosiery and cross-dressing. In 2019, however, goth fashion returns in the form of dominatrix-like black leather jackets, black lace and combat boots with platform soles. The trend is already trickling into denim through superfluous hardware and chains. And expect to see vintage concert and band tees featuring the likes of Manson, Korn and Nine Inch Nails gain popularity (and value) in 2019.

Platform shoes

The platform shoe belongs to several decades and subcultures. However, the iteration from the ’90s, a black chunky sole black boot, oxford or Mary Jane (often with a curved heel) is the one to keep an eye on in 2019. The shoe is part of the goth uniform and a coquettish accoutrement for the lingerie as outerwear trend. And after several seasons of sensible block heels and comfortable flats, Junior’s and women’s fashion shoes are eager for a lift.

Leopard print

Leopard print still has bite. The animal print left its mark on ’90s fashion through trends like goth, furry coats and even zoot suits, which regrettably swung into style toward the end of the decade. And despite being a top-selling trend in 2018, leopard print secures its place in 2019 as both a neutral and fashion statement redone in untraditional colors like neon yellow and red.

Polo shirts

The polo shirt is an antidote to this year’s flurry of brash trends. In 2019, the polo can swing one of two ways: as a fitted basic with a tongue-in-cheek nod to classic, preppy Ralph Lauren, or as an oversized, logo-adorned shirt that harkens back to urban fashion in the ’90s. And there’s a polo for everyone, from the classic pique, to trendier updates like a knit mesh and chiffon.

Flare jeans

Flare jeans, which were basically reincarnated bell bottoms from the ’70s, were a staple with young Hollywood in the ’90s. And it’s the same group that is bringing the trend back to life in 2019, but with fewer bells and whistles. Look for clean washes, minimal distressing and a higher rise to give the jeans a modern look.

Black and white

If you were a pre-teen or teenage girl in the ’90s, you’ll likely remember the black and white dress that both Brenda Walsh and gasp Kelly Taylor wore to the spring dance on 90210. The “who wore it better” moment is ingrained in ’90s fashion history and exemplifies one of the more refined ways ’90s kids wore black and white together. From Vans’ checkerboard prints to the wide leg striped pants sold by ’90s-era retailers like Delia’s and Contempo Casuals, the color combo served several unforgettable sartorial moments that are being recreated in 2019 by fast fashion retailers like Zara and Asos.

Versace style

The decadent world of Versace is a playground for fearless fashionistas in 2019. In recent seasons, the Italian fashion house has revisited archival pieces from its iconic ’90s collections, inspiring ladies and gents to embrace their inner Donatella or Gianni. It’s a simple formula to follow: vivid colors, opulent prints, gold and sex appeal. Expect to find this trend in women’s dress, men’s shirting and swimwear, where the flavor of South Beach is always in style.

Bike shorts

The bike short has come a long way. The second-skin short was an outrageous style in the ’90s, yet it has somehow found itself on the cusp of being acceptable fashion in 2019. Social media is likely to thank, or blame, for its comeback. With celebrities like Gigi and Bella Hadid adopting the trend in its early stages, consumers have become acclimated with swiping and liking the sporty garb. And with styles as colorful and shiny as ever, the bike short is may be the single ’90s trend that has come back less refined as its predecessor.

Embellished denim

Depending on which end of the decade you want to examine, embellished denim in the ’90s skewed either chintzy with homemade embroideries and fabric paint, or glitzy with rhinestones and crystals glued to seams, pockets, shoulders and collars. In 2019, denim brands borrow a little from both worlds, offering jeans with subtle splashes of sparkle and details that feel handmade and personal. The goal, however, remains the same: to stand out in a sea of blue.

Flannel

Marc Jacobs sealed grunge’s fate when he announced in November that he would reissue his iconic Spring ’93 collection for Perry Ellis. Grunge was back, bringing along with it a new spotlight on baby doll dresses, beanies, combat boots and the hallmark of all grunge looks—flannel. Expect to see oversized plaid flannel shirts serve as a protective layer during festival season and carry into the fall season for both men and women.

Bodycon

When Herve Leger designed the bandage dress in 1989, he created the template for form-fitting dresses that designers to this day still follow. Fortunately for Leger, the birth of the dress coincided with the rise of the supermodel, who would become natural muses for the figure-hugging silhouette during the decade. In 2019, the Kardashians and retailers like Fashion Nova are putting bodycon dresses back on the radar, updating the shapely silhouette with liquid-like fabrics, shimmering metallics and intense colors.

https://sourcingjournal.com/denim/19-fashion-trends-90s-cool-again-133798/

[anthony-kate]

MALEC ADVENT CALENDAR 2018 | December 5th by @hourglassmermaid | ao3 | twitter

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

The streets of New York are illuminated by a soft winter’s glow. A light dusting of snow covers cars and buildings in a frigid blanket, but the brisk wind flowing through the city uproots it into a silvery tornado that twinkles under the street lights. Magnus watches the way the snow puffs up and falls back to earth, his breath ghosting out in icy huffs.

He adjusts his scarf so it covers his nose, fixes his earmuffs to try and drown out the bar crawl behind him, and stuffs his gloved hands into his pockets. He’s chilled to the bone, and by this point, the only thing keeping him on his feet is his patented blend of five shots of espresso and Christmas cheer (the Irish cream in his pocket flask).

The chorus of drunken chatter dies down as Magnus ducks into his favorite corner liquor store. He nods at the clerk and heads directly to the wine section. His eyes dart from bottle to bottle as he mouths out the brand names silently to himself, trying to settle on something inoffensive that will please the majority.

He can’t remember what Isabelle likes; it’s been so long since they last found time to go out for drinks after their lectures. And so much has happened since… It’s been awhile.

He wants to bring something that she’ll enjoy. Not something she’ll pull a face at and banish to the back of her refrigerator. He vaguely recalls her sipping on a red one night while they were trading horror stories from their freshman Gen Chem lab sections. She got so into her dramatic retelling of the time she had a student break their buret during a titration that she spilled her glass all over the lab reports they were supposed to be grading. Magnus’ stomach drops at the memory.

His finger traces over the embossed letters on a bottle of nice Merlot. Full-bodied flavor. Notes of black cherry and currant. Elegant. Very Isabelle. Hopefully she likes it — or at least doesn’t hate it. But it’s better than arriving empty handed.

Magnus checks the time on his phone. He’s really pushing it on arriving fashionably late and drifting into blatantly late with each new tick, but he needs to check on something before he cashes out and journeys back into the tundra.

His feet guide him towards that familiar aisle, and his hands reach out towards that same spot on the shelf. Muscle memory is an incredible phenomenon. Magnus turns the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon over in his hands. He hasn’t had a glass of this in almost a year now.

He thinks of candlelit dinners and hushed whispers between silk sheets. Picnics on the beach and movie nights spent in an oversized armchair. The crackle of a warm fire and the feeling of soft fur against bare skin.

He squeezes the neck of the bottle a little tighter.

He remembers broken glasses and slammed doors. Tear stained papers and missed calls. An abandoned key in his kitchen drawer and the sound of a plane flying off into the distance.

There’s no point in buying the bottle. Isabelle assured Magnus that he wouldn’t be there tonight. In fact, that’s the only reason why Magnus agreed to make an appearance.

He pays for both bottles at the counter anyway and tucks the brown paper bag under his arm before heading out into the bitter night air. Magnus justifies the purchase by telling himself that maybe Isabelle drinks the same wine as her brother, but his heart knows the truth better than his misplaced excuses.

He takes refuge in the lobby of Isabelle’s building, shutting out the cold behind him. Magnus glances around at the chipped beadboard, scuffed linoleum, and peeling paint. It’s all so familiar and yet so foreign simultaneously — a place he once knew but where he no longer belongs.

He presses the button next to Isabelle and Clary’s names, and someone buzzes him inside a moment later. He climbs up the rickety stairs until he reaches their floor. Magnus wanders down the hallway and double checks the text Isabelle sent him with her apartment number. It feels wrong that he no longer knows it by heart. The worst part of everything was losing Isabelle.

Neither of them have admitted it, but it’s true nonetheless — their new normal. Even though Magnus and Isabelle were friends long before he and Magnus ever met, Magnus lost her when he lost him.

Magnus hesitates as he winds up to knock on her door. She invited him here. She wants him here. He sucks in a deep breath and turns the knob.

“Magnus!” Isabelle’s uncharacteristically high voice squeals. She stumbles as she pulls him into a hug. “You made it! Come in, come in!”

“Merry Christmas,” Magnus greets, patting her on the back. “This is for you by the way.” He hands her one of the wine bottles.

“Merlot? You remembered!”

The relief pouring off of Magnus is palpable. “How could I forget?”    

Isabelle takes his arm and shimmies through the crowd of her friends and some of their colleagues who are all dancing to “All I Want For Christmas is You” and scream-singing along. Magnus spots Isabelle’s bullheaded adopted brother laying it on far too thick for a few disinterested women and Clary’s tangle of fiery red curls as she kneels down on the carpet, helping Simon’s band set up for the party. She waves at him from across the room, and Magnus flashes her a smile and a head nod.

Isabelle leads him towards the drink table and shoves a glass of eggnog that smells deceptively more like rum than nutmeg into his hands. She pours a glass for herself.    

“A toast,” Isabelle slurs, raising her glass so some of the liquid sloshes out of the top. “to old friends.”

Magnus clinks his glass against hers and winces as he takes a tentative sip. It’s strong, even for him.

“And I believe congratulations are in order?” Magnus says, choking down the burn. “Future Mrs. Clary Fairchild.”

Isabelle beams, her whole face dissolving into the most beautiful smile as she wiggles her fingers to flaunt her custom engagement ring. The rose gold band accented with a delicate pattern of tiny diamonds and princess cut white sapphire almost shines as bright as the love shared between these two exceptional women.  

Isabelle recounts in vivid detail how and where Clary proposed as they drift towards the entryway to her balcony, the doors propped open to cool down the tightly packed room.

“We were at her new gallery opening, and—”  

“Magnus.”

The rest of the world melts away and Magnus’ senses are flooded with nothing but Alec. He smells of the same sandalwood cologne Magnus gave him last year for his birthday. The rough sound of his voice as he breathes out Magnus’ name takes Magnus’ breath away, and somehow, he looks even more gorgeous than the last time Magnus saw him. His hair’s a fluffy mess, he sports some soft stubble on his chin, and the light green of his service uniform brings out the piercing green of the hazel eyes he has locked on Magnus.

“Alexander.”

Magnus has lived through this exact moment so many times before it’s like he’s playing out a distant dream or an old memory. The overwhelming sense of deja vu breaks him of his daze as if he had been splashed with ice water.

Magnus tugs at the hem of Isabelle’s blouse, leaning in close to whisper, “I thought you said he wasn’t going to be here.”

Isabelle pulls away. “Ya know, I think I hear Clary in the kitchen! She probably needs help with the devilled eggs!”

Magnus reaches out to her as she hurries towards the kitchen, gulping down the rest of her eggnog as she disappears into the crowd. Magnus leans up against the french doors, trying to slow down his heartbeat to a rate that wouldn’t alarm his PCP. Once he’s satisfied that he won’t pass out in front of his past lover, Magnus plasters on a brave face and steps out onto the balcony.

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

Magnus, we need to talk.

“I’m wearing layers under my uniform.”

What’s on your mind, Angel?

Magnus nods. “I see now why your sister didn’t take my coat.”

Alec shakes his head, gripping the metal railing a little harder. “Yeah, she told me she had a surprise for me.”

“That definitely sounds like Isabelle.” Magnus walks over to the edge of the balcony and rests his elbows on the railing beside Alec. He’s close enough to touch, but Magnus gave up that privilege a year ago. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d be home for another year.”

I want you to come with me.

“I’m on leave for the next two weeks.” Alec shifts around so his back is pressed against the railing and tilts his head towards the sky. The flurries swirl around in the air and cascade down onto the porch. A few isolated snowflakes land in his dark hair and glimmer in the moonlight. He looks like an angel.

I’m not going to put my career on hold to follow you.

“It’s nice that they let you come home for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees. “How’s your semester going? Izzy told me you just got published in the Journal of Biochemistry, so uh, congratulations.”

“She knows about my paper?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Because they only ever talk anymore when Magnus is carrying a fresh cup of coffee back to his office, and she’s heading into her lab.

“We… haven’t had much time lately to catch up.”

“Yeah, she’s been busy.” Alec swipes his tongue over his top lip, and Magnus feels the phantom warmth of his kiss, the soft, plush feel of his mouth against Magnus’.

A silence lingers between them, far more chilly than the weather. What do you say to the person who once knew you better than anyone but now might as well be a shadow?

Alec shifts his weight from foot to foot trying to circulate some warmth throughout his hulking form and stumbles on the slick landing, accidentally elbowing Magnus in the side and banging his wrist on the railing. He apologizes profusely as Magnus helps steady him; his breath tickles Magnus’ skin and sends a shiver down his spine.

Alec nurses his arm, rubbing over the spot where he collided with Magnus. “Damn, do you have a brick in your pocket?”

“No, actually. Believe it or not,” Magnus teases. He reaches into his coat pocket and draws out the brown paper bag.

Alec raises his scarred eyebrow at the package, and Magnus’ heart thumps against his ribs. Alec knows of his vices better than most, finding Magnus slumped over on the kitchen floor, open bottle of whiskey on his right and unusable data on the left, more times than Magnus cares to admit. Sometimes Magnus thinks that Alec’s the only reason he finished his PhD, helping him through panic attacks over failed experiments, going into the lab with him on weekends and sitting quietly while Magnus worked, and encouraging him every step of the way when Alec believed in him more than Magnus believed in himself. But that was in the past. Magnus has it under control now. Mostly.

Magnus crumples the paper to give Alec a peek at its contents. He flashes Magnus one of his gorgeous, crooked smiles, and Magnus’ legs almost give out from under him. Coming here was a bad idea.

“My favorite.”

“Do you want some?”

They pop the bottle with the corkscrew on Alec’s Swiss Army knife and pass it between them like high schoolers beneath the bleachers during a football game.

“I always thought this wine suited you,” Magnus says.

“Really?” How so?” Alec asks in between sips.

Magnus smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and leans farther out onto the railing, looking off into the night sky. “Classic. Bold. Pairs well with a nice steak.” He laughs to himself. “Dry on the surface but sweet underneath.”  

“You know,” Alec says, swallowing down another swig. “You look incredible tonight.” He pauses.  “You always do.”

Magnus motions for the bottle. “You as well.” He takes a sip.

A strong gust of wind whistles through the air, harmonizing with the distant sirens and horns below, and the party rages on behind them. From the sounds of it, Simon has started his set and is playing a Punk Goes Pop style cover of “Last Christmas.”

At the same time Magnus says, “I’m sorry about what happened,” Alec says, “I was out of line last year.”

There’s nervous laughter and awkward glances and fumbling around. Alec grips at the back of his neck. “It was selfish of me to expect you to drop everything to come with me. I’m sorry.”

Magnus plays with the cold metal of the silver ear cuff he’s wearing. “It was an amazing opportunity, and I’m sorry that I made you feel guilty for accepting it. Do you like Berlin?”

“Not nearly as much as I loved being at home with you in New York.” He steps into Magnus’ orbit, but Magnus is the one caught in his gravity.

“Alexander,” Magnus warns.

“I know we’re not together, and I know it’s my fault, but screw it, I need you to know,” He takes another step, brushing his fingers against Magnus’ cheek, and Magnus leans into his warm caress. “that I never stopped caring about you.”

“I waited for you. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“You didn’t have to,” Alec whispers. “I never expected you to—”

Magnus curls his fingers around Alec’s and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve had my heart for so long that I couldn’t imagine it with someone else.”

Magnus hears the shudder in Alec’s breath and his sharp gasp and is relieved to know that he’s not the only one who forgot how to breathe.

“I love you.”

Alec leans in and presses his lips to Magnus’ and for the first time in almost a year, Magnus feels at home. Magnus’ eyelids flutter shut, and he kisses back with all that he has, revelling in how very right, how very safe it feels to be back in Alec’s arms.

Magnus doesn’t open his eyes when they part.

“I love you too.”

It’s a promise. A promise that this time things will be different — they’ll be different. And Magnus is ready to try.       

“Merry Christmas, Magnus.”

“Merry Christmas, Alexander.”

[avengers-nextgen]

The Aftermath Recap

(If your behind here’s all ya need to know in as concise a fashion as I can muster)

— — —

* Bianca suffers nightmares of Max attacking her. They’re extremely vivid to the point where she confuses dreams with reality.

* Sage gives Max a warning that they will remain in the cell as long as she’ll allow it because they hurt her family and she won’t make he same mistake twice. Max is likely never going to repair the damage they’ve done.

* Scout’s had a hard time focusing because everyone’s thoughts are too loud. He’s withdrawn and distant as he tries to ignore them.

* He resorts to studying up on different sciences in hopes of coming up with a solution to bring Drew’s memories back.

* Orion checks up on him and ends up lending his beloved headset to Loki in return for his help when they try and get Drew back to normal.

* This makes him unhappy but Scout reminds him its for a good cause.

* Piper is prone attention in the media after they spot her and Gen out at a science convention.

* They begin running articles speculating at Piper’s sexuality which she doesn’t like.

* She goes to a presentation for a prototype she developed that may allow us to be more eco friendly.

* But the reporters intervene with questions which unravels as they focus more on her personal life than her science.

* Gen approaches Piper and they have a talk because Gen thinks that if the media is going to react in such a way it’s best if she’s not around.

* Gem admits her feelings for Piper who blows her off at first until Alex smacks sense into her friend.

* Piper asks Gen on a date having realized she does, in fact, love her knuckle headed assistant.

* Gen says yes.

* Fox and James prep for their first date together and it’s adorable.

* Maria helps get Fox looking gorgeous but comfy and Steve goes full dad mode.

* The two go to a small sandwich place together and Fox oddly wants to leave before entering.

* James says it’ll be fine but as it turns out Vincent, Fox’s ex, is there.

* He approaches her while James finishes up his order.

* Vincent brings up a bit of the past me James wanders of immediately picking up on the situation.

* Fox tells him who Vincent is later and James apologized for ignoring her request to leave.

* He thinks they’re done for but Fox says he can pick where they go for the next date which leaves him kind of speechless.

* Valentine’s day rolls around and the highlight is that Penny spent forever putting together a little happy trans pride goodie basket for Arthur.

* He’s super stoked and excited and Penny’s absolutely thrilled.

* She’s very flustered and giddy and it’s adorable.

* Scout gets a cute card from Orion.

* Thalia gets a stuffed duck from Siyanda.

* Nightlights from Salex.

* Chloe and Nathaniel make breakfast to surprise the hungry monsters but Oenny kind of spoils it earning a spatula assault in return.

* Siyanda gets summoned back to Wakanda on important business and grudgingly leaves behind her work to aid Scout and Thalia.

* There, T’Challa reveals he plans on her taking the throne very soon and having to return to Wakanda full time.

* Siyanda adamantly refuses because she’s worried about splitting the nation, having to leave her second family behind, and potentially not getting to bring Thalia to Wakanda of having to break up with her.

* Thankfully aunt Shuri is there to pick her up after she’s had a good cry.

* No decision has been made yet.

* Chloe finally opens up about her odd limbo experience and tells Nathaniel first because she figures he deserves it for closure’s sake.

* They chat by the pool where Nathaniel was planning on hanging out with Arthur who cancelled last minute but Nathaniel understands its from dysphoria.

* He learns about what Ellie said to Chloe and they have a deep heart to heart on things.

* They part on good terms and Nathaniel feels a bit more at peace with himself and all that’s happened in his life.

* Chloe smiles and it’s great cause she rarely does.

* Drew’s memory is recovered thanks to Scout and the help of Loki.

* She’s extremely excited and even hugs Harper who she previously wanted to ignore.

* Drew an Drax have a sweet little reunion.

* A cute old Scorion scene happens afterwards and they’re really just dorks.

* Enzo talks to Max and the two have some differences about Max’s decision to join Killian and the consequences of those actions.

* Enzo and Sage get into a big fight where Enzo makes it very clear he wants nothing to do with her.

* Sage has suspicions that Enzo has deeper feelings than friendship for Max but Enzo never admits it.

* She’s torn because she can’t be mad at him because he’s her brother, and she loves him.

* Salex has a heart to heart about the fight and Alex assures Sage that she does love her and not just out of pity.

* Thalia stops by and they discover that Sage can shape shift now.

* She turns into a duck much to Thalia’s excitement and then chases James.

* Piper and Gen finally go on a date but they take Thalia along to help get her out of the house because Si doesn’t want her pent up while she’s gone and all mopy.

* They have a lot of fun walking around, eating lunch, and even jamming out to a street performer.

* Piper realized it’s the first time in a while she hasn’t had cameras on her and it feels great to be almost normal.

* Oh, and Fox picked out Piper’s outfit to go incognito and got one of Piper’s old leather jackets in return for it.

* After Vincent somehow gets Fox’s number she confronts him in a very heartfelt conversation.

* She makes it clear where he stands and what kind of influence he had on her life.

* She gives him back their old pictures and returns home to replace them with new ones she takes with James.

* They also plaster James’ face all over Sage’s room because they can’t help themselves.

And that’s about 12 chapters all summed up in lackluster tid bits!

[nextuser]

How Millennials are changing banking?

The fastest growing customer base is changing the way banks do business

Soon, Millennials will dominate the business world, as they will represent 44% of the workforce by 2022. This mobile and tech-savvy segment requires drastic transformation when it comes to banking with digital solutions assisting them in managing their money.

A bank in their pocket – anytime & anywhere

The digital world is now a reality with 72% of the interactions between the clients and the bank happening online according to a FIS consumer banking report.

In fact, the ABA (American Bankers Association) found that Millennials are 3 times more likely to open a bank account with their phone (e.g. mobile app) than in person. In addition, 67% want digital budgeting tools from their bank.

Even if they prefer using a mobile application to satisfy their needs, 38% of Millennials are abandoning the institutional bank app when it’s too slow according to a study by Jumio and Javelin Strategy & Research.

They are used to exchanging emails and receiving an instant reply. The old age of receiving a reply by mail waiting for a few days for your financial planner is over!

The Millennials habits on mobile application are 24/7:

Plan payments between friends and family members

Manage wire transfer between different accounts

Check transaction’s history

Budget tools to plan more efficiently their future

The use of video, geo-location, social engagement and other supporting technologies to facilitate a proactive, personalized interaction with bank experts are the key features to develop according to a study from CGI.

New face for physical proximity – multipurpose & convivial

The physical presence needs to be rethought for proximity to kill the ancient codes. Capital One understood this major shift and proposed a different banking experience targeting Millennials with their desire for flexibility and non-formal.

In its flagship branch in Union Square (Manhattan), the first floor of their three-story operations includes a Peet’s Coffee Shop adjacent to a seating area to facilitate impromptu meetings, temporary wait or recharging phone or laptop.

The coffee shop displays a warmer tone with natural textures and wood announcing quieter workspace contrasting with the community tables in front of the 3 ATM.

For creating this modern feel with LED screen, bright colors, linear fixtures and vivid patterns, the design agency CallisonRTKL won the “Gold Awards” at the 2017 Shop! Awards.

New product needs vs. older generation – rough start, earning less & risky culture

The Millennials don’t have the same financial ease as their baby boomer or Gen X/Y parents, already settled in their existence. In the US, 75% of college graduates have student loan debt according to ABA with an average $29k balance debt.

Millennials are working to build their finances with two top priorities:

Put money into savings each month (86%)

Paying down debt (43%)

Consequently, Millennials tend to delay major life events with only 26% married before the age of 32 years old while 70% wanted to get married and 93% to buy their home. However, they are set to inherit $30 trillion over the new 30 to 40 years.

There is a taste for risk to increase their level of wealth. CGI found out that 55% of Millennials wish to be oriented towards financial products. Banks have cleverly exploited the popularity of online trading and facilitated the online access to it.

In 2018, J.P. Morgan’s has unveiled a new investing mobile app with an eye-catching and disruptive price: free. With this new offer called “You Invest”, any bank client who downloads it or uses its website can get at least 100 free trades in the first year. Wall street, which was reserved to the elite in until now, is becoming affordable.

New era for retail bank, change or die – neobanks, rewarding & AI

The neobanks are becoming popular – when Millennials becomes unhappy or dissatisfied with their traditional retail bank, they’re not afraid to look for specialized fintech (financial technology) alternatives. According to a Gallup poll, Millennials are 2.5 times more likely than Baby Boomers and 1.5 more likely than Gen Xers to switch banks.

Rewarding matters – 80% of Millennials would be willing to switch banks for better rewards as mentioned in a Kasava Survey. For example, these include a higher interest rate on deposit accounts, cash back on purchases and foreign ATM fee refunds. In addition, 94% of Millennials are prioritizing a no-fee banking offer.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is a key differentiator – chatbots were the beginning of AI for companies to ease the customer service. But when completely automatized, it often lacked self-learning capabilities―quickly becoming frustrating. As Bill Gates said: “We always overestimate the change that will occur in the next 2 years and underestimate the change that will occur in the next 10”.

AI has the potential for many practical applications for traditional banks and Fintech industry including:

Reduce the payment fraud

Improve service leveraging predictive analytics and real-time personalization

Assist consumers with financial decisions by suggesting opportunities based on the user profile, habits, risk and financial situation

Mercator Advisory Group recently published a recent study of 80 start-ups utilizing AI for the fintech and banking industry. The study includes NextUser, a San Francisco and New York based AI SaaS platform that has developed new personalization applications to help banks stay relevant to the millennial retail consumer. Research from Business Insider has identified most of the use cases for AI in finance as demonstrated in the diagram below. They feature NextUser’s key AI partner, IB Watson.