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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months ago

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Unpersoned

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

My latest Locus Magazine column is "Unpersoned." It's about the implications of putting critical infrastructure into the private, unaccountable hands of tech giants:

https://locusmag.com/2024/07/cory-doctorow-unpersoned/

The column opens with the story of romance writer K Renee, as reported by Madeline Ashby for Wired:

https://www.wired.com/story/what-happens-when-a-romance-author-gets-locked-out-of-google-docs/

Renee is a prolific writer who used Google Docs to compose her books, and share them among early readers for feedback and revisions. Last March, Renee's Google account was locked, and she was no longer able to access ten manuscripts for her unfinished books, totaling over 220,000 words. Google's famously opaque customer service – a mix of indifferently monitored forums, AI chatbots, and buck-passing subcontractors – would not explain to her what rule she had violated, merely that her work had been deemed "inappropriate."

Renee discovered that she wasn't being singled out. Many of her peers had also seen their accounts frozen and their documents locked, and none of them were able to get an explanation out of Google. Renee and her similarly situated victims of Google lockouts were reduced to developing folk-theories of what they had done to be expelled from Google's walled garden; Renee came to believe that she had tripped an anti-spam system by inviting her community of early readers to access the books she was working on.

There's a normal way that these stories resolve themselves: a reporter like Ashby, writing for a widely read publication like Wired, contacts the company and triggers a review by one of the vanishingly small number of people with the authority to undo the determinations of the Kafka-as-a-service systems that underpin the big platforms. The system's victim gets their data back and the company mouths a few empty phrases about how they take something-or-other "very seriously" and so forth.

But in this case, Google broke the script. When Ashby contacted Google about Renee's situation, Google spokesperson Jenny Thomson insisted that the policies for Google accounts were "clear": "we may review and take action on any content that violates our policies." If Renee believed that she'd been wrongly flagged, she could "request an appeal."

But Renee didn't even know what policy she was meant to have broken, and the "appeals" went nowhere.

This is an underappreciated aspect of "software as a service" and "the cloud." As companies from Microsoft to Adobe to Google withdraw the option to use software that runs on your own computer to create files that live on that computer, control over our own lives is quietly slipping away. Sure, it's great to have all your legal documents scanned, encrypted and hosted on GDrive, where they can't be burned up in a house-fire. But if a Google subcontractor decides you've broken some unwritten rule, you can lose access to those docs forever, without appeal or recourse.

That's what happened to "Mark," a San Francisco tech workers whose toddler developed a UTI during the early covid lockdowns. The pediatrician's office told Mark to take a picture of his son's infected penis and transmit it to the practice using a secure medical app. However, Mark's phone was also set up to synch all his pictures to Google Photos (this is a default setting), and when the picture of Mark's son's penis hit Google's cloud, it was automatically scanned and flagged as Child Sex Abuse Material (CSAM, better known as "child porn"):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/22/allopathic-risk/#snitches-get-stitches

Without contacting Mark, Google sent a copy of all of his data – searches, emails, photos, cloud files, location history and more – to the SFPD, and then terminated his account. Mark lost his phone number (he was a Google Fi customer), his email archives, all the household and professional files he kept on GDrive, his stored passwords, his two-factor authentication via Google Authenticator, and every photo he'd ever taken of his young son.

The SFPD concluded that Mark hadn't done anything wrong, but it was too late. Google had permanently deleted all of Mark's data. The SFPD had to mail a physical letter to Mark telling him he wasn't in trouble, because he had no email and no phone.

Mark's not the only person this happened to. Writing about Mark for the New York Times, Kashmir Hill described other parents, like a Houston father identified as "Cassio," who also lost their accounts and found themselves blocked from fundamental participation in modern life:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/21/technology/google-surveillance-toddler-photo.html

Note that in none of these cases did the problem arise from the fact that Google services are advertising-supported, and because these people weren't paying for the product, they were the product. Buying a $800 Pixel phone or paying more than $100/year for a Google Drive account means that you're definitely paying for the product, and you're still the product.

What do we do about this? One answer would be to force the platforms to provide service to users who, in their judgment, might be engaged in fraud, or trafficking in CSAM, or arranging terrorist attacks. This is not my preferred solution, for reasons that I hope are obvious!

We can try to improve the decision-making processes at these giant platforms so that they catch fewer dolphins in their tuna-nets. The "first wave" of content moderation appeals focused on the establishment of oversight and review boards that wronged users could appeal their cases to. The idea was to establish these "paradigm cases" that would clarify the tricky aspects of content moderation decisions, like whether uploading a Nazi atrocity video in order to criticize it violated a rule against showing gore, Nazi paraphernalia, etc.

This hasn't worked very well. A proposal for "second wave" moderation oversight based on arms-length semi-employees at the platforms who gather and report statistics on moderation calls and complaints hasn't gelled either:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/12/move-slow-and-fix-things/#second-wave

Both the EU and California have privacy rules that allow users to demand their data back from platforms, but neither has proven very useful (yet) in situations where users have their accounts terminated because they are accused of committing gross violations of platform policy. You can see why this would be: if someone is accused of trafficking in child porn or running a pig-butchering scam, it would be perverse to shut down their account but give them all the data they need to go one committing these crimes elsewhere.

But even where you can invoke the EU's GDPR or California's CCPA to get your data, the platforms deliver that data in the most useless, complex blobs imaginable. For example, I recently used the CCPA to force Mailchimp to give me all the data they held on me. Mailchimp – a division of the monopolist and serial fraudster Intuit – is a favored platform for spammers, and I have been added to thousands of Mailchimp lists that bombard me with unsolicited press pitches and come-ons for scam products.

Mailchimp has spent a decade ignoring calls to allow users to see what mailing lists they've been added to, as a prelude to mass unsubscribing from those lists (for Mailchimp, the fact that spammers can pay it to send spam that users can't easily opt out of is a feature, not a bug). I thought that the CCPA might finally let me see the lists I'm on, but instead, Mailchimp sent me more than 5900 files, scattered through which were the internal serial numbers of the lists my name had been added to – but without the names of those lists any contact information for their owners. I can see that I'm on more than 1,000 mailing lists, but I can't do anything about it.

Mailchimp shows how a rule requiring platforms to furnish data-dumps can be easily subverted, and its conduct goes a long way to explaining why a decade of EU policy requiring these dumps has failed to make a dent in the market power of the Big Tech platforms.

The EU has a new solution to this problem. With its 2024 Digital Markets Act, the EU is requiring platforms to furnish APIs – programmatic ways for rivals to connect to their services. With the DMA, we might finally get something parallel to the cellular industry's "number portability" for other kinds of platforms.

If you've ever changed cellular platforms, you know how smooth this can be. When you get sick of your carrier, you set up an account with a new one and get a one-time code. Then you call your old carrier, endure their pathetic begging not to switch, give them that number and within a short time (sometimes only minutes), your phone is now on the new carrier's network, with your old phone-number intact.

This is a much better answer than forcing platforms to provide service to users whom they judge to be criminals or otherwise undesirable, but the platforms hate it. They say they hate it because it makes them complicit in crimes ("if we have to let an accused fraudster transfer their address book to a rival service, we abet the fraud"), but it's obvious that their objection is really about being forced to reduce the pain of switching to a rival.

There's a superficial reasonableness to the platforms' position, but only until you think about Mark, or K Renee, or the other people who've been "unpersonned" by the platforms with no explanation or appeal.

The platforms have rigged things so that you must have an account with them in order to function, but they also want to have the unilateral right to kick people off their systems. The combination of these demands represents more power than any company should have, and Big Tech has repeatedly demonstrated its unfitness to wield this kind of power.

This week, I lost an argument with my accountants about this. They provide me with my tax forms as links to a Microsoft Cloud file, and I need to have a Microsoft login in order to retrieve these files. This policy – and a prohibition on sending customer files as email attachments – came from their IT team, and it was in response to a requirement imposed by their insurer.

The problem here isn't merely that I must now enter into a contractual arrangement with Microsoft in order to do my taxes. It isn't just that Microsoft's terms of service are ghastly. It's not even that they could change those terms at any time, for example, to ingest my sensitive tax documents in order to train a large language model.

It's that Microsoft – like Google, Apple, Facebook and the other giants – routinely disconnects users for reasons it refuses to explain, and offers no meaningful appeal. Microsoft tells its business customers, "force your clients to get a Microsoft account in order to maintain communications security" but also reserves the right to unilaterally ban those clients from having a Microsoft account.

There are examples of this all over. Google recently flipped a switch so that you can't complete a Google Form without being logged into a Google account. Now, my ability to purse all kinds of matters both consequential and trivial turn on Google's good graces, which can change suddenly and arbitrarily. If I was like Mark, permanently banned from Google, I wouldn't have been able to complete Google Forms this week telling a conference organizer what sized t-shirt I wear, but also telling a friend that I could attend their wedding.

Now, perhaps some people really should be locked out of digital life. Maybe people who traffick in CSAM should be locked out of the cloud. But the entity that should make that determination is a court, not a Big Tech content moderator. It's fine for a platform to decide it doesn't want your business – but it shouldn't be up to the platform to decide that no one should be able to provide you with service.

This is especially salient in light of the chaos caused by Crowdstrike's catastrophic software update last week. Crowdstrike demonstrated what happens to users when a cloud provider accidentally terminates their account, but while we're thinking about reducing the likelihood of such accidents, we should really be thinking about what happens when you get Crowdstruck on purpose.

The wholesale chaos that Windows users and their clients, employees, users and stakeholders underwent last week could have been pieced out retail. It could have come as a court order (either by a US court or a foreign court) to disconnect a user and/or brick their computer. It could have come as an insider attack, undertaken by a vengeful employee, or one who was on the take from criminals or a foreign government. The ability to give anyone in the world a Blue Screen of Death could be a feature and not a bug.

It's not that companies are sadistic. When they mistreat us, it's nothing personal. They've just calculated that it would cost them more to run a good process than our business is worth to them. If they know we can't leave for a competitor, if they know we can't sue them, if they know that a tech rival can't give us a tool to get our data out of their silos, then the expected cost of mistreating us goes down. That makes it economically rational to seek out ever-more trivial sources of income that impose ever-more miserable conditions on us. When we can't leave without paying a very steep price, there's practically a fiduciary duty to find ways to upcharge, downgrade, scam, screw and enshittify us, right up to the point where we're so pissed that we quit.

Google could pay competent decision-makers to review every complaint about an account disconnection, but the cost of employing that large, skilled workforce vastly exceeds their expected lifetime revenue from a user like Mark. The fact that this results in the ruination of Mark's life isn't Google's problem – it's Mark's problem.

The cloud is many things, but most of all, it's a trap. When software is delivered as a service, when your data and the programs you use to read and write it live on computers that you don't control, your switching costs skyrocket. Think of Adobe, which no longer lets you buy programs at all, but instead insists that you run its software via the cloud. Adobe used the fact that you no longer own the tools you rely upon to cancel its Pantone color-matching license. One day, every Adobe customer in the world woke up to discover that the colors in their career-spanning file collections had all turned black, and would remain black until they paid an upcharge:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

The cloud allows the companies whose products you rely on to alter the functioning and cost of those products unilaterally. Like mobile apps – which can't be reverse-engineered and modified without risking legal liability – cloud apps are built for enshittification. They are designed to shift power away from users to software companies. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to add an ad-blocker to it. A cloud app is some Javascript wrapped in enough terms of service clickthroughs to make it a felony to restore old features that the company now wants to upcharge you for.

Google's defenstration of K Renee, Mark and Cassio may have been accidental, but Google's capacity to defenstrate all of us, and the enormous cost we all bear if Google does so, has been carefully engineered into the system. Same goes for Apple, Microsoft, Adobe and anyone else who traps us in their silos. The lesson of the Crowdstrike catastrophe isn't merely that our IT systems are brittle and riddled with single points of failure: it's that these failure-points can be tripped deliberately, and that doing so could be in a company's best interests, no matter how devastating it would be to you or me.

If you'd like an e ssay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #google #monopoly #big tech #locus magazine #crowdstrike #single points of failure

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i-miss-2013 · 29 days ago

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I started a magazine! ♡

Besties! I finally started my own digital magazine for the love of the early 2010s!

It’s on an app called Substack and my subscription is only $5 a month! AND it’s a *weekly* magazine!! So you’ll be getting 5 issues in ONE month! 🫶

But wait, there’s more!! There will be one FREE issue every month for those who can’t buy a subscription, don’t worry! 😝💖

My Substack is ♡ TWIRL ♡ (it’s under ‘content source’ I couldn’t link it IN the post)

All of the requests I have in my inbox currently will be in the magazine!! Don’t request anything fashion/beauty related anymore, or it won’t be answered!

I’ll still be posting on here, but It’ll probably be a moodboard account! ⭐️

Hope you guys like my new magazine 🥹💕

💋 Taglisters: @2543jj @cottoncandywhispers @lou007sstuff @lavender-rising @sullengirl78 @bambibabydoll123 @evascoastal @amaliasdiary @hailey09diaz @jimmakoscake

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 months ago

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Musician Age Gap AU Pt 20 of 20

The first year, Kara knows she made the right decision. But that doesn't make it any easier. She retreats for a good week and a half before she forces herself out of her apartment to walk the streets of National City. Day after day she wanders, until one afternoon a spot of color catches her eye.

A butterfly alights on a park bench-- perhaps, Kara thinks, the same one she and Lena had sat upon-- and sits, lightly winking its wings open and closed. It seems out of place, even in the park, at odds with the industrial buildings and zooming cars. Kara sits and stares, thinking unable to help the next thought that runs through her mind.

I wish I could show Lena.

There's nothing that says she can't... the split was amicable, and maybe-- maybe they could still manage to be friends. But as soon as Kara snaps the picture on the phone, she knows she can't. They were never really just friends, were they?

She almost deletes the picture. But at the last minute, she simply slips it into a new folder in her photos app. There it lives, soon to be joined by other images she captures on her walks.

Kara sends a few to Esme, just to satisfy her trigger finger that wants to fire the thing off to Lena. On Kara's birthday a few weeks later, Esme gifts her a slip of paper with an instagram username and password. When she logs in she finds a carefully curated feed of her National City photos, with simple descriptions and minimal hashtags.

It takes her breath away, to see the images reframed not as the product of her heartache, but as hidden glimpses into the city. It makes them less her guilty pleasures, and more... a gift.

It sparks something in Kara, inspires her to continue, and expand her horizons beyond city limits. She starts hiking, first with Esme, then on her own. She buys a real camera and enrolls in classes to learn how to use it.

By the start of year two without Lena, she's hopping planes to other countries, other continents, in search of secret vistas to capture. Her instagram turns into a sister channel for a travel blog, which gains her followers and a small amount of popularity online. She's careful, though, not to put her face on it. She operates faceless, under the penname of KD, and that's enough for her.

She can't say if she hides her identity to ensure any traction she gains is for her work rather than her brief stint as a celebrity's date, or whether it's to keep her work more honest (its more rewarding to find areas on her own, to travel on her own terms than it is be sponsored or reviewing upon request). Or maybe it's simply to avoid the restrictions that notoreity had put on Lena. Not that Kara thought her site could elevate her to such a status, but... she's content with who she is, and how she is.

Every so often, the magazines and tabloids explode with news of Lena, and each time Kara's heart breaks a little-- even as it beats a little harder.

First, there's a bit of a hubbub about ownership rights of Lena's first three album masters. But then, six months later, Morgan Edge is indicted on charges of sexual assault, sexual harrassment, sexual abuse of minors, and emotional abuse. Lena isn't listed among the identified plaintiffs, but Kara knows. Kara knows, and her hear breaks.

The world is shocked when Lena testifies to her own abuse at Morgan's hands, the world is shocked, but Kara isn't.

Kara *is* surprised when news breaks of Lena obtaining new management shortly after the trial. Though the press frames it as Lillian retiring, Kara knows nothing short of a cataclysmic schism could cause a split between Lena and her mother.

And when Lena does release new music, three years after she leaves Kara in Alex's driveway, it sounds... different. Not a bad different. A good different. Kara has known since Paris that Lena's personal life fuels her songwriting, and it's clear that's still the case-- just as its clear that this album had been written in the midst of the legal battles and personal journey of confronting her abuser and coming out the other side.

When Kara listens, she hears acceptance, empowerment, and forgiveness. She hears Lena's value in herself, and a strength in herself that Lena has fully embraced. One song in particular resonates, not just with Kara but seemingly the entire planet. When Kara watches the VMAs with Esme that year, Lena performs *that* song with a full chorus of women behind her, making it a veritable anthem for victims' strength.

If Kara cries, she knows she's not the only one. It may no longer be her place to be proud of Lena, but she is. She is so, so proud.

After that, Lena becomes more visible. She takes more interviews, more guest appearances on talk shows to both advertise her new album and to advocate for victims and the charities that proceeds from the album will support. Kara doesn't go looking for these interviews, but when she sees one playing in the airport lounge she can't help but stop and watch, and marvel at the peace she can see in Lena's features.

Right around her birthday, five years into her travel-photography life, Kara readily accepts Esme's invitation to help her tour Metropolis University. They make a weekend of it, including sight seeing around the city, and even getting last minute seats to the taping of a talk show.

To their shock and surprise, the guest who walks out is Lena herself.

Kara clutches Esme's wrist, who blanches under Kara's accusatory glare. "I swear I had no idea!" Esme hisses. Her eyes are wide and frantic. "Do you want to leave?"

Part of Kara does want to leave, but she knows that bustling out now would only call more attention to themselves. So she simply shakes her head and settles in.

The interview starts just like all of the others Kara has watched over the years. Good natured banter, then a segue into the purpose of Lena's visit. She discusses her philanthropy, her album, all the usuals, and Kara sits enraptured.

Her heart flutters at the smooth cadence of Lena's voice, richer and more velvet than Kara remembers. And the Lena she remembers had always contained such coiled energy that Kara wondered how she ever sat still. But now, she's relaxed and at ease-- upbeat and engage, but with a calm she didn't have five years ago.

Towards the end of the segment, Lena asks to share something new.

"Well, some of you may have heard it, but it doesn't officially come out until next week, so it's *mostly* new. I wrote it a while ago, when a relationship was still new, so-- here's to all the people hoping for more."

A production assistant carries out an acoustic guitar, and when Lena starts to strum, Kara's heart leaps in her throat. The lyrics Lena sees are bright and hopeful... starry-eyed if a song could be such. It's a song of a crush hoping to be something more, a promise of love if only it were accepted.

Kara can feel Esme swaying to the tune, bopping just a little bit to the chipper beat, but she only has eyes for Lena. For most of the song, Lena looks either at the strings or the middle distance. But then, as the bridge leads into the final chorus, she scans the audience.

Holding her breath, Kara expects Lena's gaze to slide right past her. But with wide eyes of her own Kara sees the moment Lena catches sight of her. Green eyes widen momentarily, sparking with surprise, then pure delight. Lena's features spread into a kilowatt smile before she slides her gaze away. Kara swears the strumming gets a little more enthusiastic, Lena's voice a little brighter.

When it finishes, the applause from the audience should be deafening, but Kara can barely hear it, even when the crowd stands in ovation. She watches as Lena and the host exchange thanks and pleasantries, and then Lena exits, still waving and beaming.

Kara leaves with the rest of the audience, numb and quiet as Esme stands anxiously beside her. Had that song-- could it have been about--

"Wait!"

A vaguely familiar call makes Kara pause. She and Esme turn to see a young woman with dark hair trotting towards them.

"Excuse me!" Jess calls as she nears. "Would you come with me please?"

Esme's hand closes defensively on Kara's, but Kara responds before her brain can talk her out of it.

"Sure."

Jess leads them back past the soundstage, through a maze of turns that terminates in a cinderblock hallway lined with doors. Kara doesn't have to guess who's behind the one Jess drops them in front of.

Jess meets Kara's gaze with a smile. "It's good to see you again, Miss Danvers."

Kara can barely offer a smile back before Jess reaches out to turn the knob. The door opens.

Lena stands on the other side, a respectful distance from the door but plainly anticipating their arrival. She straightens as the door swings wide, and Kara can barely bring herself to step inside for the way their proximity has turned her legs to jelly.

Lena smiles. "Hey there," she exhales.

"I--" Kara's voice cracks, forcing her to try again. "Hey."

"Hi, Lena," Esme offers nervously. Kara could kiss her. The distraction pulls Lena's gaze from Kara, giving her the chance to catch her breath.

Lena's eyes widen slightly. "Esme?! Wow, look at you! Does this mean you're too old for a hug now?"

Esme giggles. "No!"

The two hug warmly, and Kara's amazed to see that Esme is almost taller than Lena, now.

"I loved the new song," Esme tells Lena, grinning.

"Thanks," Lena returns. Her gaze slides back to Kara. "I've been profiting off my pain and heartbreak for years. Figured it's time for some of the good stuff to see the light of day."

Kara swallows thickly. "Was that about..."

Lena nods, shifting self-consciously on her feet. "Yeah." She looks at Kara, her gaze open and vulnerable. "Did you like it?"

"Did I--? Lena, I think everyone in the world is gonna like it."

"No offense to the rest of the world," Lena says in a low voice, "but I don't care what they think."

Kara can feel Esme's eyes bouncing between them.

"Honey, could you give us a minute?"

"Yep," Esme says swiftly. "Right. I'll just go wait... It was Jess, right?"

The door closes, leaving Kara and Lena in a room charged with electricity just waiting to spark.

"Do you still feel that way?" Kara can barely bring herself to ask the question, but knows if she doesn't she'd regret it forever.

Lena shifts again, wiping her palms on the front of her jeans. "Would it make any difference if I do?"

It's a fair question. Has anything really changed? Lena is still a critically acclaimed and internationally beloved artist, and Kara... Kara pauses.

Lena's circumstances may not have changed, but Kara's have. She isn't a forty year old a hairsbreadth away from a mid-life crisis anymore. She isn't miserable in her day to day. She lives comfortably doing something she loves, something she knows she'll never give up. And though she may not have had any serious relationships since she last saw Lena, she's closer to her family than she's ever been. She isn't *alone*.

That knowledge allows her to offer the truth.

"Yes," she breathes. "It would."

Lena's eyebrows lift hopefully, an astonished smile sprouting on her lips. Then it softens to a mirthful grin. "Slower this time. Lest I whisk you away on tour again."

"Hey, now," Kara chides softly. "We had some good times on that tour. All five weeks of it."

Lena laughs, the sound bright and happy and golden. "Yeah," she agrees, before falling quiet. She gazes at Kara with soft eyes. "I've missed you, Kara. You have no idea how much."

"I might have some idea," she allows, thinking of her own life the past five years. "A lot has happened I've wanted to tell you about."

Pressing her lips together, Lena guiltily shoves her hands in her pockets. "I... I think I might have already seen some of it."

Kara blinks. "What?"

"Okay, maybe all of it? KD Photog on insta?"

"Wha... how!?!?"

"I saw a picture on insta of a park that seemed familiar, and when I looked a little closer, I found out the photographer lived in National City. I swear I didn't know it was you, I just admired the photos. It wasn't until I followed to the website that I suspected."

Kara stares at her, breathless. "Wow," she exhales.

Lena's expression falters. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry, I guess I should have-- I should have stopped reading once I suspected."

"No, Lena, it's fine," Kara reassures her, regathering her wits. "I don't mind. It's just..." She hesitates for a moment. "Esme is the one who actually first set up the instagram account. I'd sent the photos to her... so I wouldn't send them to you."

Green eyes blink at her, shocked. "Oh."

"I never thought you'd ever see them," Kara continues. "But I'm glad you did. Because I did want to show them to you. Every single one."

Lena's eyes crinkle at the corners. She tilts her head to one side. "Then it sounds like we have a lot to catch up on."

Kara nods. "We do."

"I'm actually in town for a while," Lena tells her. "Maybe... maybe if you'll also be here, we could maybe... do dinner."

Kara considers the offer. "Are you free now?"

Lena blinks, the breaks into a brilliant smile. "Yeah."

"Then how about dessert first?" Kara turns her chin over her shoulder. "Esme?" she asks totally conversationally.

There's a squeak at the door, confirming that Esme's curiosity had her pressing her ear to the door. Then, "um... yeah?"

"Would you like to get ice cream with me and Lena?"

The door flings itself open. "Oh my god, YES!"

Lena's laughter fills the room, filling Kara with a warmth she hadn't totally realized she'd been missing.

As they gather up their things to leave, Lena clasps Kara's hand gently. "Dinner...?"

"Just us," Kara promises. "If that's okay."

Lena nods, her fingers tightening on Kara's.

"I can't wait."

Stepping out into the open air of the city, Kara feels something new bloom in her chest. Seeing Lena this time feels less a whirlwind than more a simple fork in the path on one of her hikes. The paths look largely the same, except that one includes Lena holding her hand.

One thing Kelly said, in perhaps the first year after Lena, that had really resonated with Kara was that lasting romances really only required three things: the person, place, and timing.

Right now, even in these early minutes, Kara feels hopeful that maybe--just maybe-- they might finally have all three.

#supercorp #musician age gap au #it is finished!!!#feedback is loved and adored #i hope you like it!!

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myysaints · 1 year ago

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°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ JUST MY LUCK ─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!reader

⌗︙・ summary — in which lando starts flirting with a (not-so-)random girl on the internet.

genre — social media au, fc hannah kae

notes — kinda disappointing finish to yesterday's gp :( but to make up for that here's something simple & cute !!! churned this one out in one day bc by god i love that little frog man with my whole heart. tbh this is just a shameless self insert ..... also rewrote history a tad bit by making lando finish on the podium at monaco because why not LOL hope u enjoyyyy xx

lando.jpg

Liked by bambiyn, pierregasly, danielricciardo, and 1,724,882 others

lando.jpg Monaco, I’m ready for ya.

view all 884,281 comments

bambiyn and i’m ready for u !!!!!!!

bambiyn talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular…

bambiyn why am i sweating rn

bambiyn goddamn

bambiyn my fav driver everyone !!!!!!

bambiyn my dms (and legs) r open btw 😁😁

Liked by lando.jpg yourbestfriend Y/N OH MY GOD…. THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP… bambiyn …ok… and? user yo wtf lando liked????

danielricciardo Lando I love you but not as much as that girl in the comments

bambiyn ok i feel called out danielricciardo Oh, hey there! bambiyn HIIII!!!!!

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bambiyn

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bambiyn yeah ok so monaco’s kinda cool

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user marry me

user didn’t know angels existed until i saw you 😩

user mother is in monaco!!!!

yourbestfriend “kinda cool” … says the girl who freaked out literally every 5 steps we took because “oh my god look at that car”

bambiyn the cars here are sick okay idk what u want from me !

landonorris only kinda?

bambiyn maybe if u finish on the podium on sunday… then it’d be cooler user LMFAOOOOO y/n never misses

landonorris But welcome to Monaco 🙃

bambiyn thank uuuuu!!! user girlie hit him with the five u’s GET UP Y/N

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f1wagupdates

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f1wagupdates Submitted by Anon ❤️ Looks like things are heating up in Monaco for Lando Norris! He was spotted last night on a dinner date with a mystery woman. A source close to the McLaren driver tells us that he is “very very content” in his new relationship, and is “excited to take on this weekend with her by his side”. As for who Lando’s secret lover is, we have it on good authority that, though she is a public figure, she is nowhere near her beau’s status of fame. Follow for more updates on all things wag-related 🏎

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user arms…. hand placement…. RAHGRFGAHFRH

user god i wish that were me 😩

user someone check up on bambiyn… ik shes heartbroken rn

bambiyn my world is literally collapsing as i type this

bambiyn damn 💔

bambiyn so that’s how it be then 😭😭

yourbestfriend heartbreak. betrayal.

bambiyn like damn i really thought i was the one 😔 user LMFAOOO girl ur hilarious

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www.youtube.com/Formula1

POST-RACE INTERVIEW WITH LANDO NORRIS | MONACO GRAND PRIX 2023

bambiyn

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🏷 landonorris, lando.jpg

bambiyn thanks people magazine for finally letting me post my man. happy 5 months to my prince charming!! ♡ ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა xx

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landonorris Best 5 months of my life

landonorris You make my heart hurt silly

landonorris my forever girl

danielricciardo You’re too good for him Y/N!!!

bambiyn ikr… user get off your high horse smh youre nothing special he’ll dump u in a week landonorris Yk I can read your comments right? Don’t be a fucking prick in my girl’s comment section. user “my girl’s comment section” im gonna go feral

user hey god it’s me again…

georgerussell63 Great meeting you Y/N! You two make a great couple 👍

landonorris Mate what is with you and typing like youre 50 years old

landonorris

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🏷 bambiyn

landonorris 5 marvellous months with the missus ❤️ To my sweetheart, I love you dummy. I love you and your weird little keyboard face things. i love the little hop you do whenever you see something you like. The way you always smell like cotton candy and clouds and vanilla and cookies. How you laugh at all my jokes even when theyre kinda shit. The fact you still don’t know how to drive stick shift (drives me crazy but anyways). Thank you for being mine baby, here’s to a million more 5 months with you 🥂

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danielricciardo aww thanks babe

landonorris 💀💀 danielricciardo But on a serious note, I’m so happy for you guys. You got a good thing going bro 👊 landonorris Sure do mate

bambiyn a million kisses for u when u get home (´꒳`)♡

landonorris eagerly looking forward landonorris (❤ω❤) landonorris Did i do it right bambiyn YESSSS !!!! proud of u baby hehe ur so cute landonorris >:)

user we still don’t know what that crazy night was abt lol

bambiyn omg yeah thank u for reminding me !

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BONUS:

You have [1] unread message.

[4:21 PM] vroom vroom baby: I saw your recent insta story.... 😉😉

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: mmhmmmmm

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: and what about it…?

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: nothing it was

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: It was perfect

[4:25 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just…

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: justttt?

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just that I was thinking

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: If u wanted ofc

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: We could

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: recreate it…

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: ?

[4:31 PM] dummy ❤️: is this ur way of asking me to come over

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: 🥺

[4:31 PM] vroom vroom baby: no….

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: ok yes

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: i’ll be over in 5 !!!

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: See you soon gorgeous

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: tsch

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: you spoil me

[4:38 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just speaking the facts 💯

#lando norris x reader #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #lando norris social media au #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🏁] formula 1

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shinranposting · 3 months ago

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From the official Conan app:

Gosho confirms that he drew a double cover for the Weekly Sunday magazine featuring the Police Academy quintet with Shinichi and Ran, the two kids, meaning they will appear in the upcoming manga series

New ShinRan content confirmed 🔥🤟

The question is: When will the next series be published?

Gosho acts as if the manga is continuing as normal, not as if it is on indefinite hiatus 🤔

#detective conan #shinran #wild police story

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mashleverse · 5 months ago

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Mashle: Magic and Muscles Volume-Only Extra Contents (Volume 1)

Every volume release of Mashle manga version contains approximately 16 pages of new content not found in the magazine/Manga Plus app releases that are commonly available. From the author's notes, exclusive inner cover illustrations, short extra manga (omake), Q&A corners that expand a little bit more of the characters and some world-building, and many more! Here's for the first volume!

Edit: added the missing omake and a bonus page, thank you @m-bbert !

For more pages, check read more below!

Author notes.

Behind the Characters' Creations (Mash-Lemon-Finn)

Q&A Corner.

Omakes. The Regro and Brad omake is partially adapted into S1 EP4.

More extra bits after the events of the volume's chapters. The pose that Regro and Brad did is referenced in the first season's opening.

#mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle manga extras #mash burnedead #lemon irvine #finn ames #regro burnedead #brad coleman #tom knowles #claude lucci

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vhagarlovebot · 2 years ago

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VALENTINE’S DAY.

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: on valentine's day everything seems to have a discount for couples, so why not pretend to be one to save some money and have fun?

content warnings: fake dating trope, hurt/comfort, pining, some mildly suggestive content, confessions.

note: hello, lovely reader ! i just want to say a few things before you start reading. this was one of my first ever works here on this app but in a different blog way back when i used to write for the marauders. this was actually a request sent to me from a prompt list i can’t find anymore, and it was about sirius black. i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

“YOU SHOULD COME WITH US.” your friend maris says, applying lipstick in front of her mirror.

“and be the third wheel?” you ask from your spot on her bed, flipping through the pages of a magazine. “it’s bad enough you are dating my brother.” sighing, you toss the magazine having lost all your attention. “besides, i’m sure aegon and aemond are on their way.”

at the sound of their names, cregan’s head appears in the door. “you didn’t hear?”

“what?” you roll your eyes.

“aegon has a date.” the couple says, looking at each other, and then you.

“he what? fucking traitor.” you get up, going for your phone. “didn’t even have the decency to tell me. but he’s go—aemond is calling me… i swear to the seven if he’s going to cancel our plans i’m goin’ to kill myself.”

cregan laughs, calling you a dramatic as he walks away.

“you heard?”

aemond laughs. “yea’, i played matchmaker.”

“aemond?!”

“stop being so dramatic, i’m on my way.”

“and who the fuck is his date?” you ask again.

you hear him sigh, but you really want to know who’s this girl your friend is ditching you for. “just a friend.” his answer doesn’t make you feel better at all. it’s silly but this tradition of the three of you eating junk food and watching slasher movies has been going on for three years. it all started the valentine’s day your useless ex-boyfriend dumped you and both of them cancelled their dates to stay with you. you never really thought this day would come.

“it’s okay, just one more reason to be mad about.” you collapse on the couch, going immediately for the remote to search for a movie. “you bringing the food, right?”

“about that…” you sigh, ready to be stood up. “maybe we should go out.”

“what?”

“just make sure to be ready by the time i get there.”

then the call cuts out.

maris and cregan look puzzled at you, asking what’s going on without actually asking. you shrug and that is the only answer you give them, because you really don’t know what his plans are.

and not even five minutes have passed when aemond is knocking on the door.

an expression of pure terror crosses your face and before cregan opens the door, you run to maris’ bedroom.

“what’s going on?” she asks, her dress half buttoned.

“aemond said something about going out,” you explain while going through her clothes. “and m’not going out in sweatpants.”

you find a red skirt that goes with one of your tops and with a little help from your raven-haired friend you have as a roommate, ten minutes later, with an “are you done?” coming from the living room, you are ready to go to wherever your friend is taking you.

aemond is chatting with cregan, neither of them aware of your presence, so you take the time to look at him… like really look at him.

he’s wearing his leather jacket, the one he got during sixth year at boarding school and hasn't taken off since then, the same one you used to see girls wearing all around campus when he was with them. never the same girl twice. aemond is dressed entirely in black and you can see his chest peeking out from his button down.

aemond catches you staring and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, only to show you what’s behind his back; a bouquet of roses. it’s part of the tradition but it still makes your heart beat faster. you accept it with a smile, smelling them and leaving the bouquet on the table.

you pout, crossing your arms. “are you going to tell me what you have planned?”

“nope, let’s go.” aemond grabs your arm, dragging you out of there.

“no, seriously, he’s kidnapping me and you’re not doing anything.” you protest, looking back at your brother who just laughs, waving you goodbye. “i’m telling mom and dad!”

the door closes behind you and you let him walk you out of the building.

“aaand?” you ask once more, walking down the street, your arm around his.

you see couples everywhere, a few of them with flowers and balloons, holding hands, radiating love. and a part of you wishes for something like that. maybe not the balloons and a lot less cheesy, but the commitment, the tender love, someone with whom you can share your thoughts with, your nights, your future. you want to feel the passion, the need to have someone kissing every part of you, worshiping your body, sleepless night with bodies intertwined. you don’t want a one-night thing; you want it all.

“there’s a restaurant with discount for couples and is giving dessert for free.” his lilac eye looks straight into yours, a lopsided smile on his face. “and i was thinking about eating there, then bring dessert home and watch texas chain saw massacre on your couch.”

“that sounds like a great idea.” you smile, walking beside him a little more excited than before.

“you know we’ll have to pretend to be a couple, right?” he stops walking.

you roll your eyes. “know your limits.”

“i’m serious!”

“i know you've been dying to kiss me since forever, but that’s only going to happen in your dreams.”

he brings a hand to his chest, feigning sadness. “you are cruel.”

you slap his arm, pushing him aside. “fine, but keep your hands to yourself. i’m not one of your groupies.”

“you could be.”

“in your dreams.” he just laughs, walking by your side.

neither of you spoke again, but every time his arm grazed against yours a cold shiver ran down your spine. and that is something you haven’t felt since seventh year, when you walked in on aemond having sex with a girl and couldn’t look him in the eyes for weeks. you weren’t exactly quiet, dropping the books was what gave you away, and the girl was focused on something else, that being her body being pushed against the bed, so the only one who saw you was him. you’d think he would stop, maybe feel embarrassed, right? that is not aemond targaryen. he just kept doing it, eye focused on yours, on the way you held your breath when he moved his pelvis a certain way making her cry out. you were frozen in place, your eyes going from the spot where their bodies met to his eyes, and it was only when he moaned something that sounded a lot like your name, you got out of there.

you couldn’t look at him, opting instead on avoiding him and all the questions from your friends. eventually, what you saw was left in the past, even though he tried to talk about it you didn’t give him the chance. you couldn’t. even if a part of you wanted to know what he was going to say, even if you spent the rest of the year dreaming about it, wishing to be one of those girls. even if you still want to be one of those girls.

“oh gods.” you say, stopping in front of a sushi restaurant full of valentine’s day decorations.

the host greets you and aemond immediately gets into character, hand going to your lower back, right where your top meets the skirt, leaving a few centimeters of bare skin. your whole body reacts at that and it’s like touching the sun.

the whole place is full of heart-shaped balloons hanging from the ceiling, the tables have red tablecloths with red roses in vases, and each one of them is named after a romcom.

“your table.” the host smiles, stepping aside.

“no strings attached? really?” you could cry at how cheesy, awkward and stupid everything is.

“i wanted that one with matthew mcconaughey because it is your favorite, love. but it was already taken.” he seems genuinely sad and you smile, fixing the collar of his button down.

“it’s okay, aem.” you kiss his cheek. “thank you.” you give the man standing in front of you a smile and sit in the booth. it’s discrete and you are grateful for that, not wanting to pretend the whole time you are going to be there, afraid of arousing suspicion.

“your waiter is going to be here any minute. if you’ll excuse me.” the host walks away and you can finally breathe normally.

aemond sits beside you and when you make eye contact, it’s impossible not to laugh.

“i can’t believe we are doing this.” you hide behind your hands, making him laugh even more.

“i knew you’ll like it.” aemond winks at you. “no, but really, i can��t believe how they do this.”

“and how people like it.” you pretend to throw up, and he laughs again. “but at the same time it’s kind of cute?”

“are you serious?”

“it’s cute to see couples enjoying this day, going to restaurants like this and enjoy each other’s company.” you shrug, playing with the rose petals, avoiding eye contact.

“you want that?” he asks, moving closer, creating a bubble around the two of you.

“yeah.” this time you look up, meeting his eye looking intently at you. “i’ve wanted it for a long time, but i think i’m not made for that.”

aemond must see the sadness on your face, because he places his hand on top of yours. you smile, feeling the sudden urgency to run your fingers through his hair.

“i know the right guy for you is out there, maybe you just need to pay more attention.”

“you think so?” you lean towards him, whispering.

“maybe what you’re looking for is… right in front of you.”

you smell the cigarettes and peppermint on his breath and are almost able to see and count all the freckles on his face, you just need to move a little closer to know if his lips are as soft as they seem.

“aemond targaryen?”

a third voice startles both of you, and just like that the moment has passed.

a blonde girl stands in front of the table and by the pad and pencil in her hands you know she’s the waiter. she has green eyes and a bright smile addressed to aemond.

“do you—you known each other?” you ask when a minute has passed and none of them has said a word.

“um, yeah.” aemond moves away from you, hands resting on his thighs.

“i think the word known falls short.” the girl giggles and you want to throw up.

“i thought you were off tonight.” it’s like you are invisible for him right now.

in any other circumstance you wouldn’t care, but not today. not right now, not after what almost happened a moment ago, because you’re a hundred percent sure that if this girl hadn’t shown up you two would be doing a totally different thing.

“i didn’t know you were in a relationship.” her green eyes look at you. “i mean, if i’d known i wouldn’t have gone to your apartment yesterday.” there’s poison in her words, she’s doing it on purpose to hurt you, and succeeding.

you chuckle, closing your eyes. why does it hurt?

aemond says something and you immediately let your guard down, allowing you to believe, and wish, and dream about things that most likely aren’t going to happen. ever.

you thought the little crush you used to have on your brother’s best friend had vanished, but one night with him was enough to know that aemond targaryen still has power over you. that’s why you are never alone with him; you don’t trust yourself.

you never made a big deal about it until that incident in seventh year. that was the moment everything changed. but you were able to get over it, or so you thought.

“it’s okay.” you smile, trying not to look at aemond at all. “we’re just pretending, aemond wanted to get the discount.”

she giggles again. “couples only, sorry.” she doesn’t look sorry at all. “i’ll give you time to look at the menu.” with a flirty little smile, she disappears.

“why did you do that?” aemond asks, touching your arm for a second before you move away. you don’t want him to think something’s wrong, but it’s a little hard for you to pretend you’re not hurt.

“did what?” you play dumb, pretending to look at the menu.

“why did you tell her we’re not together?”

you frown. “’cause we’re not? and you had sex with her yesterday, if we’re going to pretend at least let me have some dignity.”

“you are getting it all wrong.” he huffs, running his hands through his hair. “if you let me explain—”

“you have nothing to explain, aemond.” you say, looking at him and trying to swallow the urge to scream. “i know how you are, we’re friends, remember?”

“but—”

“you know what? i think i would rather order something from mcdonald’s and call it a night.” smiling, you touch his hand trying to make it look like everything’s okay and you don’t want to jump in front of the blonde girl and scratch her face. “you are more than welcome to join.”

you don’t give him time to say something else, standing and walking out of the restaurant in less than a minute. not bothering to look back to know if he’s following, all you want to do is choke on ice cream and watch a movie, the thing you should be doing tonight in the first place.

the night is cold, but it helps to clear your mind.

you’re not even a block away, when his voice makes you stop in your tracks. “i like you.”

you’re surprised by his confession, even a little flame of hope taking place in your heart.

“tonight was supposed to be fun.” aemond sighs, and you know he’s scratching his neck, something he usually does when he’s nervous. “but i messed everything up.”

you stopped breathing after his first confession, but you still can’t turn around because you’re a coward, not sure what to do with a confession you have been dying to hear for so many years.

“i didn’t have sex with her.” you hear his footsteps and, in a second, he’s in front of you, his fingers lifting your chin up, lilac eye locked fixed on your face. “and haven’t had any in a very long time.”

“what?” you can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

he chuckles. “i know i haven’t been good at showing it, but i’ve had a crush on you since forever.”

“stop messing with me, aemond.” you don’t want to believe him, you really want to walk past him and forget this night happened at all. but the part inside of you that still wants this to be real, won’t let you.

“m’not!” both his hands are now on each side of your face, the only thing you can see is his good eye, his lips, the longing on his face. “i’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time… seventh year, to be exact.”

your eyes open a lot more at that. “are you—”

“yes.” he chuckles, his cheeks a soft pink. “it was stupid, but i thought you would take the hint. after all, i moaned your name on purpose.”

“shut up!” your face is burning, you don’t even need a mirror to know you’re blushing hard. “you were having sex with another girl, aemond.”

“but i was thinking of you.”

“that does not make me feel better, y’know.” you step away from him, taking some distance.

“i know, i’m an idiot.”

you silently agree, not jnderstand anything, tonight has been a blurry, a lot of things happening in so little time. old feelings resurfacing, jealousy, heartbreak, happiness.

“but i like you too, idiot.”

his face lights up. “i knew.”

“you—what?” you frown, heart about to get out of your chest.

“i had a feeling.” he shrugs, slowly getting closer to you again, making sure you are not running away this time.

“are you serious?”

“i think i just buried ‘em because was sure nothing was ever going to happen. you were, well, you. and i was not willing to suffer because of those feelings.” your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers interlocking in his soft hair.

“i always thought you deserved much better. and i was a total coward, too afraid of not being what you expected.” he smiles, his hands going to your waist and caressing your soft and delicate skin, still burning for his touch. “and i kept denying it and denying it. denying that my heart beats faster every time you walk into a room, that i want to kiss you every time you laugh, every time you make fun of cregan, or cry watching animal planet, or talk about what you like and don’t like. that the only thing i’ve wanted for years has been to hold you in my arms and touch every part of your body, to make you feel what i feel. to show you what love really means, to show you things you haven’t experienced before. and just… to be by your side.”

all you feel is him, his calloused hands creating patterns on your bare skin, his peppermint breath, his warm, rich, woody scent engulfing you. and for the first time in years, you let those feelings rise to the surface. you let yourself burn for aemond targaryen.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#modern!aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen scenarios #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #prince aemond x reader

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vixensbrainrotts · 1 year ago

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Tokyo revengers headcanons

Content: Tr headcanons

Content warnings: None I hope, please let me know if there are any!

Vixen's two cents: I’ve been wanting to dump all my headcanons somewhere for a while now so here! I don’t think that these are all, but I’m gonna make a second post about any further headcanons I have. Also, i apologize for not including everyone here, ill make sure to include them next time. I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please tell me about it! Don’t be afraid to send me requests either, I’d love to write most anything (I’m uncreative sometimes)! Oh also, what are some of your headcanons? Do you agree with any of mine? I’ll link the part two once i figure out how to do that lol

(VOLUME II)

Kokonoi who is genuinely so bothered by bugs you won’t believe it. He has to leave the room as soon as he sees the „threat“, and fast.

Izana who curses loudly on Filipino whenever he accidentally hurts himself. You can hear him shout from across the whole house when he bumps himself on a corner.

Chifiyu who has a passion for graffiti. He loves tagging and wild styling and spraying elaborate throwup-styles on walls on Toman turf.

Inui who is colorblind, which is really unfortunate because he has an interest in fashion and styles. He relies on Koko for the greater part, but has recently discovered apps that identify color, which has vastly improved his personal style and allowed him to take on more challenging shades.

The Katawa twins who have an honestly really impressive Pokémon card collection and often play against each other to pass time. The amount they have spent on it is sorta concerning and more often than not stop by the little magazine store to buy another pack to "improve their decks" before gang meetings.

Hakkai who has a distinct dislike for the color orange but keeps finding himself surrounded it. He hates it but the walls in his room are orange. He could puke because his favorite faux-fur-coat is a darker orange. There’s no reasoner doesn’t like the color but something about it makes his skin crawl.

Hanma who is German/Russian and makes sure everyone knows it. He is proud of his heritage and will often use German and Russian idioms when conversating. It’s all fun and games till he starts swearing in his mother tongues during fights, bashing in his opponent’s skulls whilst cursing in a foreign, very aggressive manner.

Nahoya and Souya who work like devils in the kitchen. It’s a perfect tandem in between them, they somehow always know what the other wants and needs. If Nahoya needs a hand in opening the oven, Souya’s doing a 360 no look opening. If Souya’s hands are messy from kneading the dough, Nahoya automatically turns on the tap for hand washing. Twin telepathy is real and they’re the number one proof.

Mucho who can’t do shit in terms of math. You need him busy? Ask him for 7x9 and he’ll be unresponsive for the next 3-5 minutes. It’s really frustrating to him because he genuinely puts in so much effort to understand the formulas, but the numbers simply don’t click in his brain.

Smiley who got the smiley piercing the moment he found out about it. It’s really impressively healed and works so well on his face. Some even say that his smile has gotten wider ever since he got it. He also has a poorly healed nose stud on the left side that he only keeps in for sentimental value. He got it in the seventh grade during school and he got his ass whooped when he came back home with it.

Kisaki who unintentionally practices calligraphy because he writes exclusively in cursive. All of his notebooks look fake because all the letters look identical and everything is evenly spaced. The highlighter girlies in his classes wish death upon him on a daily.

Rindou who’s cracked at Chemistry for no reason. He doesn’t even have to try, it’s like the formulas unfold in front of him and the laws and rules just make sense. He can’t even explain it but ask him anything, and I mean anything he can give you the right answer. Just don’t ask him to be your lab partner. He has a nasty history of breaking test tubes.

Kakucho who knows how to dress. Like really know how to dress. Anywhere, anytime he’s looking like a Pinterest board. He doesn’t really try or occupy himself with things fashion, but he just looks so good and coordinated all the time. He thought it was natural to know what looks good or not, so he’s sometimes a bit perplexed by the things that his peers wear. He tries to be nice when he tells them it doesn’t work, but comes across a little brash because it frustrates him.

Kazutora who has unnaturally sharp canines. Like, it’s kinda scary sometimes because they poke out of his mouth even when it’s closed. He’ll commonly run his tongue over them when he’s bored, poking and prodding at them to check if they’re still sharp. It’s one of the features of his face he really does like.

Mitsuya who gossips like a Girl. He lives for drama and tea (silently) and due to his club being occupied by mostly girls, he’s surrounded by it constantly. The girls talk and talk and talk and he eats it up. The scary part is that he remembers nearly every part of it, so he knows so much. He’ll never share it with anyone but likes to know what’s happening. Sometimes he even correctly predicts scandals due to background knowledge.

Leading from the last one, Mitsuya who has a deep voice. One that rumbles softly when he speaks and sounds like the ocean when he laughs. It’s a killer during after-noon classes when he has to present or read something cause it has such a calming effect. He’s put multiple of his classmates asleep accidentally.

Draken who know just the tiniest bit about sowing from helping out in Mistuya’s workshop. He knows how to close a seam, he knows how to sew a button and he knows how to patch a hole and that’s it. He’s lowkey proud of it though.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #Tokyo revengers headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #tr headcanons

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lucidreamer-uwu · 2 years ago

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What's on your D.D.D.? || Brothers Edition

~ What I think would be on their D.D.D.s ~

LUCIFER

His D.D.D. would be absolutely filled with documents. All the saved student council minutes of the meetings are there. All the projects, files, program flows, everything.

His email app would always have pending and/or unread notices. Emails he would frequently get are usually from RAD officials, Mammon's debt reminders, and other miscellaneous emails. And his emails would always have that 99+ bubble notification on the app. And no, it isn't spam-

Keeps notes for each of his brothers and Diavolo. Mammon's note has the most content, rivaling the amount of stuff that's on his to-do list note.

A MILLION alarms. He keeps the alarms as his reminders just in case his memory fails him. Which was rarely, but he still wanted to make sure. His alarms would be mainly his wake up call, feeding Cerberus, feeding Beel (or making sure he isn't about to go on a rampage), an alarm to leave the house, an alarm for the late bell, and one that is unnamed but is secretly to check on you.

His calendar app is PACKED. He always has meetings or things to do, deadlines, submissions, the whole burnout recipe.

His camera roll would sometimes be FILLED with random photos and photos of Belphie and Satan giving him the finger because they managed to get their hands on his D.D.D. Otherwise, it's usually filled with pictures of art like paintings and stuff.

Would have pictures of you and his brothers. He'd also save any pictures that are sent in his chats if it proved to be memorable or of importance to him. Also has a secret private safe where he stores all the photos that he gets sentimental over. That safe is locked tight with a password that changes every hour of the day, fingerprint required, and face recognition. If the app senses that you are not Lucifer, it will set off the curse he had conjured, take a picture of the intruder, and shut down the entire device (I bet he has his brothers' baby pictures in there). The only willing selfies he takes out of his own initiative is with Cerberus.

Normally he wouldn't have game apps on his D.D.D. but he had to download one because Luke and Levi influenced Diavolo into playing a multiplayer game and Diavolo asked him to join so that he could get more friends in the game because he needed to unlock an achievement. He did want to download the copy emoji expression game after he played it on Mammon's phone but he didn't wanna risk another incident.

Phone wallpaper would range from photos of artworks he finds good, and inspirational, motivational banners/quotes from artists he admired.

His music would be composed of vintage records, probably podcasts, and deep focus classics.

Has broken his D.D.D. because he tried texting his brothers while he was furious.

His storage is full most of the time.

MAMMON

This boy has accounts on any and ALL the banks of the Devildom. So he'd have a dedicated folder where he collates all those bank apps.

He's part of the student council so he has at least SOME files for that. He keeps it to a minimum though. His email and social media accounts are more cluttered than Lucifer's because he's often too lazy to keep it in check.

His notes app contains all his debts — and something of a ledger too. He keeps track of them not with the intention of paying them off, but to remember who to avoid.

He sets alarms to wake himself up in the morning so Lucifer doesn't beat him to consciousness, but he always manages to hit the snooze unconsciously before he wakes up. So he's extremely thankful if you're the one he wakes up to and not an angry Lucifer about to kill him, or a pissed off Levi who was ordered to wake him up.

Has some event reminders in his calendar app just so he doesn't forget to go to his part time jobs and his magazine shoots. Other events would include everyone's birthdays. (Like he'd actually forget your birthday, but he likes the look of it there anyway)

The guy's camera roll has TONS of pictures of the latest watch models, jewelry, expensive brands of clothing. Would also have pictures of his brothers doing goofy things. Has lots of party pics too.

He doesn't bother putting his brothers' pictures in his private safe. Instead, he keeps them in sorted albums — one for each brother. He keeps his blackmail folder, however, in the private safe.

His private safe would have pictures of you obviously. Your selfies together, the pictures he takes of you, with your knowledge of course, and maybe some candid shots of you sleeping and walking around or doing school work too. Besides that though, there are also images of things he wants to get you in there, like matching outfits, things he think that you'd like, clothes he thinks would look great on you, and all that. He can't risk you finding out before he actually gets it for you, he wants it to be a surprise!

Has FPS games on his phone and some multiplayer games too because he thinks that single player games are boring. Also because sometimes, it's the only way he can stay connected with Levi when he locks himself up in his room.

Lock screen wallpaper would be the best #bestfriendgoals selfie of the two of you and his home screen wallpaper would be the cutest picture of you two being all cuddly.

His music playlists would be composed of heavy metal music, pop music he likes to dance to, slow dance songs he imagines dancing with you in, rap music, and sweet love songs he has yet to gather the courage to send you.

The only one of the brothers who hasn't lost his D.D.D. Mainly because he doesn't want to even think about the price he has to pay for a new one.

LEVIATHAN

He only keeps a few school related things on his phone, neatly organized into one folder just in case he really needs it.

His email rarely has any back logs, mostly because of the fact that he regularly reads his mail to stay updated with news about any of his anime subscriptions.

Despite claiming that he's a shut-in otaku who has no social life, his social media — both personal and all his fan accounts — get a lot of notifications per day.

Notes app would be filled with his personal otaku errands, what merch he needs to get his hands on, games list, and school schedule.

He sets alarms to wake him up in the morning because he knows he can't rely on his broken sleep schedule to get him up on time. Most times though, he stays up to hear the alarm without a wink of sleep, then proceed to sleep after turning it off.

His alarms are also scheduled every thirty minutes before his anime shows are coming up.

This boy's calendar is almost as packed as Lucifer's but in an entirely different genre. Anime events, comic cons, cosplay events, merch release, anime releases, birthdays of his favorite anime characters and their voice actors, and the birthdays of his brothers', Henry's, and yours of course.

Camera roll would be filled with mostly anime pictures obviously, and cosplay outfits he likes. Some of them are of his brothers and Henry. And a good portion would also contain merchandise screenshots and photos.

Private safe? PFT as if he has a private safe... — he does but denies it because it's filled with selfies of you two and pictures he's saved of you from group chats and private chats he has. He also keeps pictures of him cosplaying in there. He'd die if anyone saw what was in the private safe, but would somehow be excited by the fact that someone had guessed his password, because only TRUE Ruri-chan fans would be able to know it!

His D.D.D.'s storage space has been long gone and is running on a single megabyte because of all the games he's had installed on it. He has a hard time choosing which game to delete whenever a new one catches his interest. It takes him HOURS to decide.

He thinks that having IRL photos as his phone wallpaper is breaking the otaku code and a total normie thing. So he has an anime lock screen and home screen.

Has anime playlists and soundtracks for DECADES. This was another sole contributor to the murder of his D.D.D. storage. (I'm convinced he likes to dance to the rhythm of "kiss kiss fall in love!").

His D.D.D. has been dropped in the toilet more times than he's willing to admit.

SATAN

A fair amount of his D.D.D. contained school related files. He was the student council secretary after all, so he has almost all the documents that Lucifer has on his D.D.D.

Unlike the first born however, Satan likes to keep his email tidy and rid of clutter no matter how stressful it was to handle all of RAD's emails.

He doesn't use social media often, even Levi's on it more than he was. But that doesn't falsify the fact that he gets a lot of fan mail and love messages. He's blocked a lot of them already, but somehow they still keep coming and don't ever seem to run out.

All his pranks and plots are stored in a safe folder of his notes app and regularly updates it, noting down which ones failed, which ones succeeded, and makes sure to also take note of how to further improve them.

He has a list of books to read in his notes app too. And a brief to-do list. Also secretly notes down things he think would be fun to do with you.

Has a short set of alarms. One for the morning, one for the night, and one for when it's time to feed the kittens at RAD.

His calendar would only be filled with the most important events like his brothers' birthdays, yes — even Lucifer's, your birthday, and events at RAD.

On the contrary, his camera roll would have a variety of contents ranging from every cat in the Devildom, pages of books he fancies, blackmail, embarrassing photos of Lucifer, you, and aesthetic library pics that he's sent you.

However sad it might be, he keeps a private safe so that he can keep the pictures of his brothers from the Celestial realm having a great time before he existed as himself. It's also where he keeps pictures of any memorable moments he genuinely finds comforting when he's frustrated. He'd rather die than have any of his brothers find out about it.

Doesn't have games on his D.D.D. BUT does have photo editors for entertainment purposes. His usual subject being Lucifer.

Lock screen wallpaper is of a bundle of cats on the sidewalk of some alleyway of the Devildom. Home screen wallpaper would be a picture of your soft smile. Makes him smile whenever he unlocks his phone to you.

He has classical music and podcasts on his D.D.D. Anger management podcasts mostly.

Misplaced his D.D.D. once and found it weeks later under a pile of books in his room. The screen was cracked.

ASMODEUS

He doesn't have space on his D.D.D. for anything school related unless it's a screenshot or picture of homework or projects he needs to submit.

It doesn't matter what app it is, social media, email, messaging app, it's always full. His inboxes never seem to be empty. No surprise there. He spends his time scanning them to give him an ego boost when he's bored.

Notes he takes are mostly the must have beauty products he needs, different self-care routines, and make-up, skin care, and moisturizing tips. Also takes note of the outfits he has to get his hands on, and ideas for his new product lines/ideas.

His alarms wouldn't be as hectic as some of his brothers' were. Just one for every essential. He's more of a timer kind of guy. He has a gazillion timers saved for 15 minutes, 30, and so on, to keep track how long he's been doing things. Being stunning requires self-control and discipline too you know!

He doesn't save birthdays on his calendar because he believes that if someone meant that much to you then you'd 100% remember their birthday without having to note it down on your calendar despite your busy schedule.

He does however, keep track of all the fashion events on his calendar. When the new season's wardrobe comes out and whatnot.

OBVIOUSLY, his camera is filled with selfies and self portraits of himself. He absolutely loves scrolling through them. He also has selfies with you in them. He takes selfies with everyone he likes so there's one photo album for that too. And one for all the miscellaneous pictures of clothes, make up, and cute color palettes.

Honestly doesn't have a private safe. His sentimental pictures are out in the open and he isn't afraid to flaunt them.

He has about one or two games on his D.D.D. He isn't good at them but he doesn't like getting left out when you play them with his brothers and the others at school.

His phone doesn't have a picture background. It has one of those aesthetically pleasing phone themes he likes having so that his apps are cutely designed as well.

He likes to listen to pop music, breakup songs, and love songs. But he also keeps party music on his phone too, along with some soothing background music to fill in the silence when he's taking some "me" time, which was often.

Don't ask him how his D.D.D. got stolen five times. He'll throw a fit and rant til the devildom freezes over.

BEELZEBUB

Just in case anyone needed it, Beel keeps student council stuff on his D.D.D. It wasn't as organized as Lucifer's or Satan's was though.

It wasn't as if he neglects his email or the messages he gets from random people, but it looked like he did because he's got piles of fan mail and school emails. He actually tries his best to answer all the heartfelt messages he gets when he has the time.

His notes were simple. Whenever he wanted to eat but couldn't, he'd type down whatever food came to his mind and was sure to have it later on. This way, he was fixated on the feeling of excitement rather than his hunger.

Also takes note of the food he wants to share with you and Belphie.

He doesn't have an alarm to wake him up because Belphie's alarm clocks have that covered. He has alarms for practice and classes though.

He takes note of all the big games he has upcoming on his calendar. Saves every important birthday and every important RAD event on it too.

His camera roll would strictly be anti-food because it's only torture for him. It does have pictures of his brothers, you, the purgatory hall residents, the demon lord's castle residents, and his game team.

His private safe has any picture with Lilith in it.

Like Asmo has games he knows you and his brothers play because he likes to spend time with you guys too.

Phone wallpaper would be a picture of the whole family, and a gym quote for the lock screen.

Workout music took the majority of his playlists.

Because he's tasted a D.D.D. before, his only comment was that it needed a bit more seasoning and hellfire mushrooms.

BELPHEGOR

The only school related files he has on his phone are homework and some student council documents that Lucifer requires him to have.

Like most of his brothers, his social media, email, and messaging apps are overflowing because he rarely checks on them and is too lazy to go through them when he actually looks at it.

"Notes? You guys keep notes?". He only takes notes of errands in case he forgets and the random date ideas he plans to take you on.

Alarms don't work on him but he keeps a ton of them anyway. One for every class, one for the morning, one for every single action he only absolutely HAS to do for the day. His brothers are starting to get annoyed because they were the ones being disturbed and needed to wake him up to shut it up because he made it so that only he could turn it off.

Calendar app is a ghost town. It only had the occasional birthday events and some important dates he wanted to remember, nothing important. He's too lazy to commit to organizing something as tedious as that.

Camera roll has pictures of him sleeping because his brothers often like to take his picture when he sleeps and has the audacity to tell him to send it to them afterwards.

He has one dedicated folder for his brothers, one for you, and one for others. He likes to take pictures of the stars so it's mixed in with pictures of the purgatory hall residents in the "others" folder.

He keeps any photo of Lilith in his private safe too. He also keeps the pictures of his brothers being sweet to him in there. He'd die of embarrassment if any of it got out.

Has any game that any of his brothers tells him to get — except Levi because he can't process anything he says when he talks about games. He'll try anything once. He often forgets to delete them though so most times he complains why his phone acts up, until Levi tells him about his storage being full.

Constellation, galaxy, starry D.D.D. background.

He saves any loud music he can find. He uses it to stay awake and plays it on full volume through his earphones when he's studying.

His D.D.D. has endured many falls from various heights. One time it fell from one of the top floor balconies of RAD because he fell asleep using it.

Hello my dreamers! It's been a while since I've last posted, hope you didn't miss me HAHA! I hope you liked this post and I know my inbox is overflowing but I'm still working on them I assure you! So keep those asks coming!

Also! If you want to be part of the tag list that I will create, comment "dreamer!" in the comments and your username will be saved to the list! If you don't want to be part of it anymore, simply send me a dm and you'll be removed.

Keep dreaming, dreamers! ♡

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nadekofannumber1 · 16 days ago

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I wish I liked some popular shojo more bc it’s legit a genre that gets way too much hate and is often discriminated against in publishing spaces even having its real genre being changed when being localized bc shojo is locked to a specific context. But since I don’t feel like I can advocate for it as much as someone who prefers shojo magazines like “Halloween”, I feel like a lot of my defenses of shojo josei fall flat to a degree when not discussing the very literal advertising discrimination (Kodansha loves changing genres on their site, instead of using publication or demographical categories, they just make shojo a more “romance” genre.) (also less and less shojo manga are getting anime adaptations in favor of live action shows, josei is treated even worse) (ppl also give shojo too much flak bc of misogyny, even though I’ve seen ppl watch shows with similarly awful qualities of other publication genres).

What I can say is ppl decide if something is shojo based on vibes just because jump’s brand is so identifiable. Even though learning about other magazines could easily let you get the read on the vibes and tropes of the magazine’s publishing contents easily, like, a lot of popular gangan manga hold similar fandom vibe because gangan is more woman friendly creativity wise. Though I must say that ofc more standard shonen like soul eater came out of that as well, along with a slew of adaptions of other material into manga (it is the manga publishing brand of square after all). But even beyond things like FMA they have properties like: Pandora hearts, black butler, nozaki kun, the royal tutors, TBHK, kokkuri San, the apothecary diaries, inu x boku, ojisama to neko, durararara. Of course with things like gangan online and subsequent apps a lot more of the content published gets more varied like daily lives of highschool boys, watamote, jahi Chan, my bride is a mermaid, vermil in gold, how I attended an all guys mixer. As a publisher, gangan is actually very unisex, which makes it have the vibe of being innately less hostile to women. But because it doesn’t have the vibe of being shonen shonen (tm) ppl don’t realize how they think of

I feel like this concept got out of hand but it proves my point that ppl don’t know the difference between a publishing demographic, and a genre. I blame jump for this and thus I mentally hold a rivalry with it (of course I have more legit reasons to beef with jump like how they protect nobuhiro watasuki makes me suspicious, even if I like a good amount of jump manga my mind has beef, there’s more to this but I’ll stop now)

I can say all this but I can’t defend shojo in the way I want to, I can’t say people are too hard on something like peach girl when I haven’t read it. People always act surprised when shojo is good, and I find that, incredibly weird. Criticizing tropes is fine, saying a romance sucks and you don’t like it is fine, saying that a lot of common tropes in said publication genre put you off from reading is ok too, but by treating all shojo the same is weird.

Society is when people don’t know that junji Ito is primarily a shojo mangaka.

#nahdeko #naderamblings

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prolix-yuy · 11 months ago

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The Reason for the Season

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: What does Christmas mean after the world falls apart? Ellie sure doesn't know, but Joel knows who might.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: T, some suggestive thoughts, one steamy kiss, teen angst and a whole lot of yearning! Our reader is given the following attributes: a history of Christmas celebrations, a father, and while not stated in the fic, she was old enough to be a teacher when the outbreak happened. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Hello to my sweet Sil @psychedelic-ink! I'm your not-so-secret Santa and I'm here to deliver your holiday fic! And doubly, your birthday present! I’m so glad we got to meet on this wild app, and may your holidays and your birthday be as amazing as you!

You asked for something very Christmas-y with some friends to lovers romance, and boy did this get out of hand! I hope you enjoy Joel finding a little Christmas spirit.

Cross-posted on AO3

There’s little sacred in the world anymore, but making the morning cup of coffee might be as close as Joel gets. The early rising, his bedtime vestments crumpled and stretched across tired muscles. The soothing routine: the mug, the pour over coffee dripper, and the Holy Beans. Every movement is seamless, practiced and almost sightless for those mornings when he can’t peel his eyes open. All in service to the first sip, and the glorious awakening it will bring.

Though with the clattering of Doc Martens and teen angst coming down the stairs, it’s not necessarily needed.

“Mornin’,” Joel rumbles over the mug, eyebrows raised at Ellie’s earlier-than-usual scowl. She opens the fridge, every movement thrown to the extremes of her small frame. Bowl clattering, spoon chiming against stoneware, a worrisome glug of milk, and she returns to flop into her seat across from Joel. He takes another sip, maybe a little louder than usual.

“Sounds the same going in as coming out,” she grumbles, but the half smile she allows is a triumph.

“Told you not to listen in on a man’s morning movements.” Ellie scrunches her nose up at that, jabbing her spoon into some granola. She’s only moving it around, not partaking, and Joel sets his cup down on the table. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks down his nose at her.

“Something on your mind?”

Joel was never much for beating around the bush with Sarah’s moods, and he certainly hasn’t changed much with Ellie. She sighs and lets the spoon clatter back into the bowl.

“What the hell is up with Christmas?”

The question works better than the coffee, brain scrambling into overdrive in much the same way as when he caught Ellie holding a beat-up Bearskin magazine.

“Well…” he starts pensively, but Ellie bowls right through his low hum.

“Like some of the kids celebrate it and others don’t, but neither of them know why. Everyone’s arguing about something called Santa. And they’re bringing trees inside!” She tosses her hands, giving him a weird am I right look that butts against his confused expression.

“FEDRA didn’t teach you kids about Christmas?”

Ellie shrugs, folding her legs up into the kitchen chair.

“I’ve heard of it, but y’know…not exactly high on their list of priorities.” She starts worrying at a small rip in her jeans until Joel snaps a warning look. He just bartered for those, he won’t have her hurrying them back to scrap.

“I’ve kinda been…pretending I get it.” She trails off, face closing back up and Joel recognizes the outburst for what it is. Embarrassment.

“Well, Christmas is something that, uh…that lots of families celebrated before. It’s, uh…it’s a time at the end of the year to be…you know, to be together and thankful. That sort of thing.”

He can practically hear her eyes roll.

“But what the hell’s a Santa, and trees, and all the baking?” Her finger shoots up, angled directly at Joel. “I know there are presents!”

Joel scoffs, taking another sip and ruminating on how to tackle a tradition he’s barely paid attention to since the outbreak. It all felt so insignificant in the winters following, only a counter for how long he’s suffered so far. Then, when things calmed a fraction, the idea of opening his heart to anything remotely like thankfulness made him want to bloody every knuckle.

So he tucked his chin and paid no attention to parents trying their best to give their children something bright in the darkest days of winter. Tess never mentioned it, the shine in her eyes at candles lit in windows hard to distinguish from tears. And now, twenty-odd years later, he can barely fathom where to start.

“There’s a lot of traditions, variations. I don’t remember half of ‘em, but…” A sudden spark of an idea, a way to cheat out of this conversation and not get sulked to death over it, catches the corner of his mouth. “But I think that teacher you like might have some books about it.”

Ellie’s face lights up, abandoning her bowl to go galloping back up the stairs to her room. “Eat something first, then we’ll go,” trails up behind her. Joel savors the last bit of coffee before rising to rinse the cup, his own smile tugging at his lips. Shouldering his heavy winter jacket, Ellie wolfs down four bites of her granola while still in motion. Wiping her chin with the cuff of her jacket, she shoots a shit-eating grin at Joel as she heads to the door.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that, old man,” she sing-songs as they move into the bracing Wyoming air. “Always looking for an excuse.”

“Whaddya mean?” he asks with as much nonchalance as he can muster, but Ellie’s raised brown and carefree shrug clearly don’t buy it.

“You’re a lousy liar, Joel.”

Not as bad as you think.

The schoolhouse is not much more than a converted home, the ground floor filled with bookshelves and improvised desks and controlled chaos. By the time Joel and Ellie came to Jackson it was well established, but Maria explained how it changed hands and struggled for years before the current teacher.

“It’s hard to prioritize learning over survival, but it’s the only way we move on as a community,” she said as she led the pair through their Jackson orientation. Ellie had been sighing heavily and dragging her feet - “school is boring, Joel, why can’t I go on patrol?” - before Maria led them into the kitchen.

“And here’s who we have to thank for dealing with our wild ones,” Maria said, and you looked up from your work.

The first thing Joel noticed was your smile. It spread so easily across your face, unselfconscious and radiant. You extended a hand to Ellie first, who suppressed enough of her ennui to act pleasant. Joel was next, enveloping her cool fingers with his large palm. He blanked on your name that time, needing to ask Maria privately for it, but the warmth and lightness of your presence could be blamed for that.

Joel didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that meeting sure as hell paved the way for the private and closely guarded crush he had on you now.

Ellie took a liking to you almost as quickly, and Joel could see why you were successful when others might have failed. You assessed her mood with ease, redirecting her dread to a section of the schoolhouse that held instruments. She moved immediately to an old guitar, cross-legged on the floor with the too-large instrument in her lap.

“Can you teach me how to play this?” she asked, and you admitted to only knowing a few chords.

“I can,” Joel piped up, his own voice surprising him. “I know how to play.”

Twin bright eyes danced on his face, and he struggled to keep the flush from creeping past his collar.

“If you have some time, I have other students who would love to learn.”

And that’s how on some afternoons Joel found himself showing a handful of teens on the cusp of adulthood how to strum chord progressions. He viewed it as a duty to the community…or at least that’s what he said when Maria and Tommy asked. It was also the perfect excuse to stop by early and chat with you, or scrutinize a leaky window or dripping faucet. Anything to keep him in the same room as you taught simple math or reading comprehension.

“Any time you want to bring that handiness by my place you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he caught Joel waving you goodbye on the well-trodden path home.

“You take better care of your place, you won’t need help,” he spat back with no fire. Tommy shrugged, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.

“Just sayin’, that schoolhouse might withstand another apocalypse with all the work you’ve done on it. I hope its proprietor is…appreciative.” The cheeky wink eggs on a shoulder punch that almost becomes a wrestling match between two men who should know better. Instead Joel calls Tommy a name and Tommy laughs and Joel stares at the ceiling that night wondering if you would be…appreciative of what he’d like to give you.

Only some of those thoughts are pure in nature.

But the years, even the kind ones, have choked up his tongue and made him a coward. You’re clearly eligible, no other men sniffing around much to Joel’s surprise. He doesn’t think it’s completely one-sided either. You smile at him and put your hand on his shoulder and stand close enough that he can smell your soap and gentle musk. And what’s worse is you’re something rare to him, something miraculously unsullied by twenty years of hell. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to survive without hardening, without breaking and mending over and over until the repair is the whole self. But you are still kind, and understanding, and gentle, and open. There’s only one reason Joel can attribute to this rarity.

Someone loved you.

Someone loved you so very much that they protected you, let you be open-hearted and trusting even with the world crashing down. And if that someone is no longer here, that’s a hole he can never fill. But every day he spends in Jackson shedding years of plate armor and barbed wire, he contemplates if he might be getting closer to someone who could at least try.

In the meantime he makes his excuses, much like now, and suppresses the little smiles and giddy feeling in his stomach.

“Been meaning to check on that plumbing issue she had last week,” he says breezily, snow crunching underfoot and the chill air nipping at his nose.

“Suuuure, I bet you’d love to see her plumbing,” Ellie snarks, sprinting away as Joel’s face heats up.

“Watch your fucking language, kid,” he growls, the irony not lost on him, as the schoolhouse comes into view.

You can always tell when Ellie arrives. The kids born after the outbreak have a peculiar set of social norms and rules. You’re not sure if she even knows that she should knock before entering, or take her boots off. Then again, it’s an exercise in contemplation when you consider why those societal norms would return when their framework’s been shattered.

Keep your boots on in case you have to run.

Don’t announce your entrance in case something’s lurking.

A whole other etiquette you watch like a zookeeper behind glass.

“Good morning Ellie,” you call from the kitchen. Your heart flutters briefly wondering if…

“Morning, ma’am.”

Joel ambles into the kitchen, massaging heat back into his palms. His cheeks are ruddy with windburn, and you bite the inside of your lip considering how your own hot palms could warm them.

“Good morning Joel, didn’t expect you in so early.” Dusting your hands off, you round the counter to step into his space. A little game you like to play: how much more obvious must you be before he’ll notice you’re flirting with him? Another brushed shoulder, squeeze of the forearm, eyes connecting a second too long. Thrilling yes - it’s been a long time since you’ve had a crush - but at this rate you’ll both be ninety before either of you admit it.

“Ellie has something to ask you,” he says, turning to look for his ward. The strange wording patters your heartbeat into an uneasy rhythm.

“Should I be worried?” you laugh, Joel’s deep brown eyes coming back to your face with a sheepish smile. Oh god, when he smiles your knees can barely handle it.

“I might have passed the buck on a conversation.”

Before you can ask Ellie slips into the kitchen, weaving around Joel’s wider frame and hopping up on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island. The ones Joel made with those strong hands and thick fingers.

“What’s the deal with Christmas?”

The question catches you off guard no matter the preamble.

“Um. Huh. Well, I guess…what do you want to know?” you ask, sidling around to lean across the counter from her. Joel is still in your peripheral, practically filling the door frame.

“Everybody’s talking about it,” she bemoans, taking a dried apple slice you’d laid out and turning it on the countertop. “And I keep pretending it’s like, so awesome, but I just don’t…get it.” Her thumbnails pick at the leathery edge of the fruit, and the child you’ve watched pressure girls twice her age into shenanigans softens around the edges.

“It’s all, ‘my family does this, my family does that,’ and it’s like…I never had anyone to celebrate with before. FEDRA did some stuff with us, but it was…” A shrug, accepted without comment. “And they all seem to love it, and I maybe want to…feel that.” The hedging makes you lean further over, grabbing your own apple slice and turning it between your fingers.

“Well, Joel must have told you there are a lot of ways people celebrate the holidays.” Looking up to Joel he grimaces slightly, raising one shoulder in apology. “And there are lots of different traditions. I’m not surprised you’re confused.”

“Yes! Is Jesus like, Santa’s kid or something?”

The stifled laugh comes straight out of your nose and you have to clear your throat to keep from snorting further.

“Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here but tell you what, I’ve got a plan.” Ellie looks up at you with a guarded sparkle in her eyes, and it only widens your smile. “Let me do some research first. There are things I don’t know either. So how about you come back next week and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned during the tree decorating.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Tree decorating?”

You must be glowing by now. “Oh, you are in for a treat.”

Leaning against the doorway, Joel takes in the scene. Ellie’s moment of vulnerability, buried back under her feigned indifference. The excitement bubbling under the surface of your smile.

The way you lean over the counter, the curve of your back only accentuating your shapely ass as you sway slightly.

Fuck, maybe he should just come out and confess his crush so he can at least feel awkward when he sees you instead of embarrassingly horny.

He’s relieved Ellie suggested coming to you. Your solution to his problem is simple and brilliant, a weight lifting off his chest. Sometimes Ellie is no different than his child, and other times Sarah’s memory makes the smallest endearing unbearable.

Sarah’s mom had taken care of the holiday explanation, navigating the unique customs of their little household. She explained why they had a tree and a menorah, and who’s Santa and the Festival of Lights. When Sarah got older and started asking more pointed questions, they both sat down and explained all their traditions and why they were important. Joel had, admittedly, been more of a supporting role, but for their family it worked.

Then Ellie had to pitch that question at him, looking up like Sarah had, though so much smaller, and his throat closed up. He knew she needed it. Hell, maybe even he could use some holiday cheer, but Ellie was too no-nonsense and Joel was too out of practice, ripe for bungling it up.

He’ll have to thank you in some way. Though there’s not much to fix nowadays, and if he spends much more time here volunteering he might get roped into actually being a teacher.

“...and since it’s your first time, you get to add your own ornament to the tree. It can be anything you want, and at the end of the holidays we pack it up with the others for next year.”

That’s it, he thinks. A small way to repay your kindness. He has some scrap wood in the communal woodshop, and most evenings are quiet there. There must be a coping saw in some toolbox, a few rasps and awls.

“That does sound pretty cool,” Ellie says, and where you might have thought it to be begrudging, Joel can clearly hear her excitement.

“I think you’ll love it.”

That week was one of the busiest - and sneakiest - that Joel could recall in recent years. It seemed to be the same for you, watching you flit around town with a battered notebook and chewed-up pencil. You were talking to people, smiling, laughing. Whatever the conversation was made everyone else smile too, throwing fond looks at each other. Sometimes playful bickering, or conspiratorial whispers followed, and you gathered up all those words into that well-worn notepad.

Joel, on the other hand, was making himself more scarce than usual. He kept up appearances, not slacking on patrols and showing up when he’s expected, but every free moment is spent in the woodshop.

He could have gone the simple route, cutting slices out of some nice quality wood, something with a live edge, but it was too simple. He wanted something that would make you light up, your mouth drop open and your eyes sparkle.

Further back than he’s willing to count, he remembered a fellow contractor showing him gifts he made for his daughters each year. Beautiful wooden snowflakes, carved in geometric shapes that would reveal tessellations and patterns when glued together.

The idea seemed simple enough, but it had been a long time since his hands had done anything delicate. The pattern was easy to make, but as he dragged the coping saw along the curves and points his hand would cramp, or the blade would zig when he wanted it to zag. He’d get up and walk around the shop to shake out the frustration, telling himself it’s only four more pieces…for this ornament.

When he feels like giving up and tossing the whole project in the trash, he thinks of the feeling he’ll get when you hang them on the branches, the way you might touch his arm or look into his eyes when you thank him.

And then he thinks that forget the mistletoe, he’ll kiss you whenever and wherever you’ll let him.

On the fourth day of hiding in the woodshop Ellie bursts in, halfway through a sentence before she even gets in the door.

“...and I haven’t gotten her anything and I know she’ll get me something so like, what should I…” Her entrance startles him, yanking a rag over a freshly glued ornament.

Too slow, old man, he thinks as her eyes snap to his attempt at deception.

“What’cha got there, Joel?” she asks, sly smile matching her embellished cadence.

“Just workin’ on things, what were you talking about?” he deflects, leaning on one elbow to hide the mess behind his shoulder. Ellie nods, understanding stark on her face as she ambles up.

“Oh sure, since when have you ever cared what I’m talking about?”

Joel can’t stop the hurt look dashing across his face, leaning forward. “I care…”

Tricked! Ellie’s hands dart under his arm and yank the cloth away, exposing the half-assembled ornaments and lengths of twine.

“You’re so fucking easy…” she starts to say, but the words stop when she sees the mess underneath.

“What are those?” she asks, and for a moment Joel wants to snark something back at her - none of your goddamn business or don’t make fun of me - but then he realizes she probably doesn’t have any idea what they are. What would she have seen adorning a tree? Maybe dried fruit, popcorn, little trinkets that people saved hoping one day they could have Christmas again?

So he clears his throat and makes himself vulnerable. To a teenager. Easily one of the scariest things on this earth, cordyceps included.

“They’re for the tree lighting. Had a buddy who used to make ‘em, and I thought it’d be a nice gift for…to the schoolhouse. For being so helpful and all that.” He can feel his ears reddening but Ellie hasn’t taken her eyes off the snowflakes. She traces one of the finished ones, pointer finger running along the edge he dulled with an ancient rust-filled rasp. “You hang them on the tree.”

Ellie’s quiet for a moment, inspecting and nudging the pieces around, before she finally speaks.

“They’re cool. I didn’t know contractors could make pretty things too.”

Joel snorts, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll let you know I’m a man of multitudes.”

She snorts, the tension breaking, as Joel moves pieces around to show how they fit together to form the abstract snowflake shape. As he’s explaining the process she’s shockingly quiet, but everything is open - eyes, ears, half-parted mouth. If he’d known this was something they shared he would have built things with her ages ago.

“Is one of these mine? The one I can bring?”

Joel mulls for a moment, tapping fingers on the workbench, before he hauls himself up to stand.

“Nah, I’ve got something better for you.”

It takes a few minutes of searching for a suitable wood piece not being used for something important. Then a few more to saw off a round, sweat beading on the edge of his hairline and biceps tensing. Ellie’s eyes widen when he hands her the wood circle, ushering her back to the workbench.

“I think somethin’ more personal would be good to bring. How about you write your name on it?”

Ellie’s eyes narrow, playfully mistrusting.

“Just my name?”

“You’ll see.”

As she writes and erases about six times, Joel hunts through the workshop for the little woodburning kit he spied weeks ago. It’s janky, but it doesn’t electrocute him when he plugs it in. He waves Ellie over and takes the wood, admiring her no-nonsense script.

“They ever teach you woodburning at school?” Ellie shakes her head, and Joel’s smile turns lopsided. “Then you’re gonna love this.”

Using the hot metal tip of the fat pencil-like tool, he meticulously traces her lettering, burning it permanently into the wood.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool!” she exclaims, getting close enough that he has to shoo her back so she doesn’t get wisps of woodsmoke right up her nose. He lets her finish the last E, warning her to go slow so the line doesn’t chatter. It’s not perfect, but she’s so excited he can’t find fault.

“Now for a little holiday decoration,” he mumbles, and with stiff joints and too-big hands he burns in a border of holly leaves and berries, even dotting the I in her name with one.

“All finished,” he says, and before he can even blow on the final product it’s in her hands, tracing the lines and practically thrumming with excitement.

“Can I keep it?” she asks, spinning it in her palm.

“Just until this weekend, but I can show you how to make…” His sentence trails off as she’s already heading for the door.

“Awesome, thanks Joel!” she calls over her shoulder. He chuckles to himself, ambling back to his own little project. Ellie turns in the doorway, silhouetted by the sun dipping low.

“She’ll love those too,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows and disappearing before he can retort. Sighing, he turns back to the last few pieces he needs to assemble.

He hopes she does.

Joel finishes the ornaments just in time for the tree decorating, timed perfectly with Jackson’s town square lighting. Joel saw Tommy drag the tree into your schoolhouse, conversing with you and Maria as he brushed stray needles from your front porch. The way you smiled when someone did kind things for you warmed Joel even from afar.

“Planning on helping out with the festivities tonight?” Tommy asked as the day wound down, putting boxes on the bar as Joel enjoyed a whiskey.

“Ellie wants to go to the tree decoratin’, figured I’d make myself useful.”

Tommy’s half smile hovers in his periphery. He tries to ignore it.

“You got something to hang on that nice teacher’s tree?” Joel rolls his eyes and throws back the drink. He’s not going to sit by and tolerate romance advice from his baby brother. “C’mon, you know she’s into you, right? Looks at you like you hung the moon.” Tommy leans on the bar, turning something small between his fingers. “See you looking at her like that too. Practically Hallmark shit by now.”

“See ya, Tommy,” Joel sighs, getting up from his chair while rolling his eyes.

“Well, at least you can bring this too,” he says, and holds out what he’s been fiddling with.

Joel looks down, and his heart stops.

“...Where did you…”

Tommy’s face softens, placing the item between them on the bar.

“Went home before I ended up in Jackson. Not a lot left there, but I found the Christmas box in the basement. It was one of the few things I could carry with me.” Tommy’s face fights an emotion welling up, forcing a smile even as his eyes shine. “Thought she could be part of a new tradition too.”

A small wooden ornament fashioned to look like a Christmas ball, the name “Sarah” painted in the center and surrounded by red and green patterns. She brought it home from school and it had a prominent place on their tree, even as she got older and complained about how ugly it was.

Joel’s throat is so tight his breath whistles out, chest pounding and eyes stinging, but he picks up the ornament and cradles it in his work-worn hands. Then, a lightness eases his breathing, and a soft smile plays across his face. He clears his throat preemptively, pocketing the treasure.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll put it next to Ellie’s. Thank…thank you,” he stumbles, and the brothers share a moment of memory.

“And you know, everyone’s gonna be out looking at the lights tonight in case you need some privacy,” Tommy suggests, breaking the tension with all the finesse of a sledgehammer.

“Bye, Tommy,” Joel calls over his shoulder, Tommy’s chuckle ushering him out.

You must have done this many times before, because when Joel and Ellie walk into the schoolhouse it’s like something off a holiday card. The school supplies are tucked away in favor of soft seating areas. The tree Tommy brought in is tucked in a corner, lights already wound around the thick boughs. Something apple and spiced wafts through the air, and the chatter of children and adults alike is at the comfortable level that it blankets everything in a festive glow.

Ellie’s face is glowing too, taking in the drastic shift in decor. She hangs back a little, eyes roaming and waving to friends but shyly tucked behind Joel’s elbow. Her hand is in her pocket, and Joel would put money on her ornament being in the palm of her hand. Joel’s not much better, Sarah’s in his own and a paper packet tucked under his arm.

Before either of them can feel too out of place, you weave through the growing crowd with a wave.

“I’m so glad you could come!” you call out, squeezing Joel’s arm and beaming down at Ellie. She shifts on her feet, a small smile appearing at a familiar face.

“This is wild, is like the whole town here?” she asks, and you shrug with your hands on your hips. Some of your hair is out of place, and perspiration clings to your throat. Joel swallows, eyes darting away.

“Well I did say I had a special surprise for tonight, and you inspired it!” you say, motioning to a series of little dioramas tucked into an empty bookshelf. Ellie weaves around Joel to get a closer look as you point out one of the shelves.

“You asked me about Christmas and I didn’t know what to tell you because I don’t know all that much about how it came to be, or the traditions around it. But then I realized we’re all building a new world together, and the holidays are what we bring with us.” You slide a piece of paper out and hand it to Ellie, and she reads it with a growing smile. Joel leans over to catch a glimpse at your prim handwriting.

Christmas was very traditional in my house. Santa was supposed to come by and bring us presents for being good girls and boys. We would write letters to him about things we wanted, and our parents were supposed to deliver them to him. On Christmas Eve we baked cookies and left them out for Santa because he had a lot of houses to deliver to and needed snacks. I left out carrots for the reindeer too, because they were doing all the work. And then on Christmas morning dad made pancakes and we weren’t allowed to open anything until mom was up. I believed in Santa until I was about 12, when I asked how he could get into houses without chimneys. My parents told me that Santa was an idea, not a real person, and the spirit of the season was to show people you appreciate them and give back to the community around you. I was more worried that I would get less presents if Santa wasn’t giving them to me anymore.

“I gathered up all these stories from everyone in Jackson, of all faiths and beliefs, and you can read through them and see how everyone celebrates.” You lean down now, speaking quieter. “There’s no right way, and no one person celebrates the same as everyone else. The one thing that does stay the same is that it’s a time to show love to the people around you.”

Joel’s eyes roam the shelves, spotting a Hanukkah-themed scene and something with bright colors he doesn’t recognize. Pages of script torn from your notepad tuck behind Santa figurines and menorahs and little wooden shoes. Ellie picks up another slip of paper.

“Wait, there are elves?”

You shrug, straightening up and catching Joel’s eye. He gives a lopsided smile as you’re pulled away by someone else entering, a twinkling light in the night surrounding Jackson.

A time to show love to the people around you? Maybe he can finally pluck up the courage to do that.

“Okay, everyone with an ornament please come up to the tree! Not too many at one time!” you call out, and Joel’s heart jumps into his throat. He pulls the packet from under his arm, hoping that maybe a bunch of kids would rush to the front, but everyone is reluctant to be the first. You stand by the tree, a shimmer of trepidation on your face, and Joel takes the first step.

“Brought these for…for the tree,” he says, handing the rough package to her. He should have put a bow on it, but he already wrestled with the packaging too long, he didn’t think he had the nerve to make it look any more like a gift. All eyes are on you as you unfold the wrapping, eyes darting up to Joel like he’s playing a trick, but when six delicate snowflakes are revealed a murmur of chatter fills the room. Your eyebrows lift, eyes lighting up and he wishes he’d given it to you alone. He wants your appreciation and surprise and happiness all for himself, even as the whispers, “oh wows,” and “good job, Joels,” waft to his ears.

“Joel, these are amazing,” you breathe, lifting one of the snowflakes out to dangle on your fingers. A smattering of applause he doesn’t deserve deepens his blush, but he takes the praises as graciously as possible. “I’m…thank you so much. I’m going to put them on, please everyone! Bring your ornaments up!” The snap into something much cheerier and brighter flutters Joel’s heart, catching a brief shine in your eye as you busy yourself adding his ornaments to the tree.

Could he go to you in the hubbub of people now approaching, lay a hand on your shoulder and envelope you in his arms? The ache to do so is close to a real animal in his chest begging to be touched. Instead he hangs back as kids hang dried apples and garland, painted baubles and all varieties of crafts. Wooden birds with real plumage, tiny knitted mittens, worn pictures encased in resin. His eyes draw to Ellie, sidling up next to you to hang her name ornament. You help her pick a spot, and Joel can see how you praise the design, and add some reassuring words. Standing back from the tree Ellie leans against you, and you wrap an arm around her shoulders.

The world slows around them, frozen in time under Joel’s watchful eye. He blinks, capturing a mental photo of this moment. He’ll look back on it often, the way Ellie both looks so much like a child but also so grown. How you give her kindness and support in as quiet of a way as she’ll accept, rewarded with her ease. And the feeling in his own chest, expanding and swelling like his heart could never fit his body again.

“Look outside!” calls one of the younger children, and the crush of people move from the tree to the windows at the front of the schoolhouse. Craning his neck, Joel catches the lights strung around town starting to click on, brilliant bubbles of amber light dissipating the darkness. A murmur kicks up, and the tree sparkles to life with colorful pops illuminating every memory adorning its branches. There’s cheering and clapping again, this time well deserved, and Ellie’s face brightens as her name sways gently with all of the others.

“There’s more!” someone cheers, and the front door opens to guide the group out and onto the frigid streets. Ellie’s head whips around, eyes pleading, and Joel can only nod with feigned annoyance as she rushes out.

“Put on your hat…” he calls after her, but if she hears she gives no indication. In a moment the schoolhouse is empty of all but you and him. Joel glimpses more lights leading the people of Jackson through the town center, noise dulling to a comforting hum.

You’re still in front of the tree, admiring the final product. Joel takes a deep breath and slowly approaches, standing beside you in comfortable silence. You take in a big breath of your own and blow it out, satisfaction painting your features.

“Every year it seems like it’ll never get done, and yet it always comes together,” you say, bumping shoulders with Joel. He snorts and smiles, taking in all of the chaotic beauty of the decorations.

“Meant a lot to Ellie that you did all this,” he says, tossing his head back at the written history you compiled. You cock your head at him thoughtfully.

“It got me thinking, you know. What’s important to everyone, now that we’re here after everything?” Your eyes search the tree, Joel’s following. “For me, it was my dad. We called him Father Christmas. Loved the holidays, was excited for them every year.” Your fingers find a red plastic boot nestled in the boughs. “When we got to Jackson he was so excited to be around people again, to feel that community. He brought Christmas back for lots of people.” A watery sigh signals Joel to lean closer, fitting his arm snugly around your waist. It’s never felt more right to hold someone. “The years since he’s passed have been hard to keep this all up, but it’s also the closest I feel to him.”

Joel reaches into his pocket, Sarah’s ornament in the palm of his hand. Ellie’s has a perfect spot next to it, and he tucks them together amongst the lights. Fresh spruce tickles his nostrils as he arranges them just so.

“My daughter,” Joel says, and it may be the first time he’s offered this part of himself up willingly. “Lost her on the day it all went to hell. She loved the holidays too, always wanted to see real snow. You know, like something out of a Norman Rockwell.” The rest of the words he wants to say stick in his throat, but it’s enough. You turn to him, sliding a hand up his arm to squeeze it gently. A knowing smile curves your lips, tempting as hot cocoa after a cold day.

“Thank you, Joel. For the ornaments, for being here. For everything.”

His body steps into yours, pulling you close. Your eyes widen briefly, then your expression becomes hopeful.

“Thought maybe I was being obvious, around all the time looking for a reason to be where you are,” Joel muses, finally bold enough to cup your cheek. Leaning into it, you fit your body into his.

“Maybe I thought it was too good to be true,” you say, a tiny brush of his thumb over your lips startling a breath out.

“Pretty sure it’s me who’s been feelin’ that way, darlin’,” Joel teases, but the yearning in your eyes tells him he’s got to say it now. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for…so goddamn long.”

Then your hand winds into his nape, and your lips meet.

You’re as soft as he hoped, yielding to his firmer press but bold when he parts his lips and your tongue begs entrance. A choked moan dies in his throat as cinnamon and apple dances on his palate, cradling your head so he can deepen the kiss. The grip on his hair tightens, your other hand fisted in his flannel. He wraps around you, protector, devotee, your body and soul safe with him.

Your lips part regretfully, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath. Beating him to composure, you tilt your chin to press a kiss to a spot on his jaw where his beard is a little thin.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you here for so long,” you repeat, breathy giggles rippling through you both. Joel dips in to claim your lips again, softer, slower. Your arms wind around his neck, and if he wasn’t keenly aware that at any moment someone could wander back in he would have laid you out to explore with his lips and teeth and tongue. His calmer head prevailed.

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t ask you for a single other thing, Christmas or not, if you’d say you’ll be mine,” he asks, heart on the line as he hopes you feel the magic of this moment just as much. Your eyes crinkle, fingers stroking through his hair.

“Joel Miller, nothing would make me happier,” you answer, earning another sweetly spicy kiss. When you part again, you say, “Well, except…”

Joel’s heart hammers, eyebrows knitting up in concern.

“...I could use help putting the star on my tree tonight. The one in my bedroom?”

A mischievous smile darts onto Joel’s face, playfully squeezing your ass.

“And how tall is this tree? Should I bring my ladder?”

You tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Maybe two, three feet?”

Joel nods with understanding.

“Of course, we should take care of that immediately.”

“Immediately.”

Hand in hand, you exit the schoolhouse, leaving it unlocked in case anyone wants to come bask in the holiday cheer later in the evening. Looking down the main street, Jackson is lit like a beacon of hope. Children toss snowballs at each other while parents watch on and laugh. Ellie is talking to a girl her age, shyly extending a paper-wrapped gift. A beautiful, kind woman is holding his hand and if his back were better he’d throw her over his shoulder in his haste to get her alone.

And in the darkest of times, when the days are short and cold and hope runs thin, there is still so much love to share.

END

A/N: the ornaments Joel makes were inspired by a gift I got a few years back. These handmade ornaments are some of my favorites every year!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #prolix fics

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 1 year ago

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Bonten - With Morticia Addams Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

🫓Flatbread-Anon, you're back! It's been a good while since I've heard from you, I'm glad you've sent me another one of your amazing asks.

The Bonten members that take an interest in you will be Ran and Kakucho; because I need to write some exclusive content for those two and this is the closest I'll get for now. Their parts will be separated of course. —Benny🐰

🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴

Yet another traitor to Bonten had been sniffed out. This on had been poking around in their real-estate business ties, closing and canceling deals while pocketing the profits for themselves.

Kokonoi, who had been noticing a small but steady drop in revenue, sent some people to investigate and they actually caught the guy in the act. Unfortunately though, he had fled before they could properly apprehend him.

Thankfully they were able to track the traitor to an abandoned warehouse, where he was currently being held in wait for a few of the executives who were sent to deal with him.

That leads us to where we are now.

"These fuckers really can't get it through their damn skulls, huh? Ya can't fuck with Bonten's shit!"

Sanzu growls, sitting cross-legged in the HQ's lounge as he loads bullets into the magazine of his handgun.

Ran and Rindou already stood by the doorway, one not bothering to bring much other than his personal firearms since he wouldn't be doing much at all and the other with nothing since he wouldn't be going with. Kakucho, who had previously left the room, reenters with coffee in hand, unfazed with Sanzu's ramblings.

"C'mon, let's get goin', we gotta traitor to kill."

The pink hair man stands up as he pockets his now fully loaded gun and grabs his katana.

Rindou nods at the three and waves his brother off as they all head out of the lounge and to the elevator to complete the task given to them.

Footsteps clack against the damp pavement as a figure clad in all black strolls the foggy streets; a serene smile painted on their black stained lips. The lacy black parasol in their hands is spun around at the handle as it rests on their shoulder.

Suddenly... their feet come to a stop. Before them stood a severely run down building; most likely condemned by the looks of it.

"My, my... this is quite the breathtaking veiw..."

Their deep voice humms echoing about the vacant street as they speak.

Kakucho pulls the car in front of the address he was given and parks, turning the engine off. He stares out of the windshield for a moment at the thick fog, brows lifting in confusion. There was no fog warning on the weather forecast today...

"Ya'll comin' in or stayin' out here?"

Sanzu asks the two impatiently as he gathers all his needed equipment and prepares to exit the car.

"I'll stay out here, I need a smoke anyway."

Ran lazily replies in his natural carefree tone as he opens the passenger door and rummages for his carton of cigarettes in his breast pocket.

Kakucho only waves the pinkette off, eyes still stuck on the fog outside as his brows furrow. The mullet haired man only shrugs as he gets out and fast walks into the warehouse, carrying his belongings with him.

The short haired Haitani pulls out both a cigarette and an intricate lighter that Rindou got him for a birthday present last year as he stands by the car. Lighting up his cigarette, Ran turns to Kakucho, noticing how quiet he had been the whole time.

"Are just going to sit there, Scarface?"

He humms, raising a thin brow at the unmoving executive.

"I'd get out but I don't want this fog screwing with my depth perception, I've only got one good eye, after all."

The blackette answers the purple haired man as he pulls out his phone and opens the weather app; completely ignoring the screams coming from the warehouse.

"Fog? Oh yeah, it is pretty foggy out he—"

The elder Haitani started, only to be cut off by a eerie baritone voice.

"My, what a lovely symphony to accompany this magnificent view... such a marvelous night this quaint little stroll turned out to be~."

The mysterious voice coos out.

The two Bonten executives flinch and immediately reach for their weapons, heads snapping in the direction the voice echoed from. Kakucho quickly exits the car with weapon drawn, not bothering to close the door in his alert state.

"Dear me, pointing such things at a stranger, I'm honored that you would threaten my life in such a way.~ Though I'm just a tad insulted, I'd truly prefer a slow paced and gorey demise.~"

The deep voice echos towards them once again as a tall figure shrouded in black emerges from the fog.

A man, dressed is all black old school English clothing, as far as they were aware, and holding a black lace parasol. He was tall and lanky with a very dark and ominous but non threatening aura, his blacked lips were pulled up into a mysterious smile.

The men were in shock; how the hell hadn't they noticed this guy before!? His presence was so intense that it would be impossible for the two, who are seasoned fighters, to miss him.

"How rude of me, I've neglected to introduce myself to you. I am [Surname] [Name], pleased to meet you two gentlemen."

The man now known as [Name], greeted the two as bowed graceful.

"This is no place for civilians; Bonten is conducting business here. Leave."

Kakucho, calming his nerves, orders the new comer, his gun unmoving from it's position pointing at their head.

Feeling no threat, Ran lowers his gun but doesn't put it away just in case something happens. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he grabs his phone out with his free hand, preparing to alert Sanzu of their unwelcome guest.

"What beings you here, Sweets?"

The elder Haitani purrs as he opens his contacts, directing his eyes towards [Name] instead of his phone screen.

"Hahaha, how cheeky you are. I'm simply here to take in the view, but it seems my presence has caused a bit of a fuss with you gentlemen."

[Name] chortles, readjusting his parasol to the other shoulder and giving it a little twirl by the handle.

Kakucho lowers his gun just so, taken aback at the strange man's words.

"The view? What?"

He mutters, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, as much as I would simply adore to stay here and take in the lingering death in the air, I must bid you adieu. Thing must be famished right about now."

The gothic man informed them as he turned on his heel and walked back into the mist.

Narrowed eyes followed his figure as he disappeared into the night...

💀•♡•☠•♡•💀•♡•☠•♡•💀•♡•☠•♡•💀•♡•☠

...and those eyes were Ran's.

The elder Haitani huffed out a quiet chuckle as he turned off his phone, his thumb hovering just above the call button on Sanzu's contact. Why bother informing Sanzu of this incident; if he did then surely the pinkette would spoil some potential fun he could have in the future. A smirk makes its way onto his lips; what an interesting guy.

Approaching footsteps draw his attention back towards the building. Ran turns to see a blood spattered Sanzu sporting a crazed grin.

"Aaaall done! Let's go, I got a couple pills o' ecstacy off the guy and 'm itchin' to take 'em."

The pinkette cheers as he opens the backseat passenger door and tosses his things inside.

"Damnit Sanzu, you'll get blood on my seats!"

Kakucho growls at the mullet haired man as he too gets into the car, leaning over the driver seat to face the pinkette.

Ran sweat drops. Yep; same shit different day.

☠•♡•💀•♡•☠•♡•💀•♡•☠•♡•💀•♡•☠•♡•💀

...and those eyes were Kakucho's.

The blackette returns his weapon to his back pocket, eyes still trained on the retreating figure. They had such a commanding and eerie presence about them and the half blind man couldn't help but draw parallels between them and a figure of his past. He couldn't help but want to know more about them and just who they were exactly. Maybe, just maybe, they would see each other in the near future.

Approaching footsteps draw his attention back towards the building. Kakucho turns to see a blood spattered Sanzu sporting a crazed grin.

"Aaaall done! Let's go, I got a couple pills o' ecstacy off the guy and 'm itchin' to take 'em."

The pinkette cheers as he opens the backseat passenger door and tosses his things inside.

"Damnit Sanzu, you'll get blood on my seats!"

The blackette growls at the mullet haired man as he too gets into the car, leaning over the driver seat to face the pinkette.

Ran laughed at the two in the background, dropping his cigarette and crushing it with his shoe before pocketing both his gun and phone.

Kakucho groans; he just replaced the seat covers...

🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴•♡•🎴

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

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