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#that's her title now

roseofhybrids · 19 days

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Had my niece watch episode 7 today

she described Nori as "Mother Nightcore"

#murder drones #shitpost #mother nightcore #I'm stealing that #that's her title now #note that this title evolved from “nightcore crab”

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emsartwork · 2 months

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ALL OF DAPHNE'S TRANSFORMATIONS. INCLUDING UPDATED NYMPHIX.

Previously Fairy of the Dragon Flame now Fairy of Embers. She doesn't have any transformations others than these because she was fast tracked into the nymphix path, and unlike the winx the majority of fairies don't pursue additional transformations past enchantix. (i think Daphne would be interested in Dreamix tho, so maybe I'll draw that eventually.

Her major color shifted after dying and being revived, which is shown in her winx and enchantix.

other lore and design notes below!

I changed her major color from orange/yellow to more of a teal/green because. she just doesn't look good in yellow I'm sorry I really tried but it wasn't working. Also little updates to her hair color, nothing huge tho. Daphne's primary motifs are a branching "Y" shape and a double oval/tear drop. She's a pants when possible girlie and a one set winger(yes her nymphix looks like it have multiple wings but they all merge into one stem on each side) . Her scars from her Sirenix being ripped out of her caused her winx/enchantix to change a little to cover them(mostly seen in the arms) due to insecurity. Her Dryadix/nymphix flower is a daffodil! because pun Daph-Daff, and Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (also creativity, energy, resilience, forgiveness and vitality). Her Harpix wings aren't super specificly patterned, but she has darting wings common in small song and seed birds (robins, finches, brown birds etc.) the coloring is referential of a Shrike (also called a Butcher Bird), because Daphne was. incredibly dangerous and if she had sided with the ancestral probably would have been given a moniker similar to Butcher of Domino or Daphne the Slaughterer. (some people do call her these but its mostly among people who dislike Domino/The Royal Family.)

Lore! Daphne doesn't have a great sense of self, she was planned as a necessary successor to Marion/the dragon flame in a period as the ancestral witches were escalating their attacks and search for the dragon flame. Bloom was a back up baby in case both Daphne and Marion got dead and basically worked as intended haha. Daphne was also much more publicly involved in the kingdom than many of the other royals in winx (Stella, Aisha, Krystal and even Galatea to an extent all had rather sheltered upbringings) in a way Daphne is much more like Sky and Thoren in the since that none of them really had the space to develop their own personality outside of their familial duty.

Daphne's 1st winx and enchantixes are as direct a copy of her mom's Enchantix as you can get with transformations, right down to the more greenish tint of her major color. Growing up Marion used her fairy form liberally, so that, combined with being the next Dragon Flame holder left a deep impact on Daphne's subconscious. Daphne was also heavily influenced by Faragonda during her Alfea and Nymphix Quest years, but since she was older this isn't as deep an influence. After being revived, Daphne's years of defining herself as her connection to Bloom causes her major color to shift more blue in response to her trauma. Daphne is slowly starting to develop a sense of self outside of her titles/connections but it's unlikely her major color will shift again unless she has another major trauma.

(for the record the Winx do have trauma over the timeline I have laid out that would potentially cause their major colors to shift but I didn't do that for a couple reasons 1, their colors are iconic and make them easily recognizable as characters; 2, I'm a tired bitch. )

#winx #winxems #winx club #winx daphne #enchantix #harmonix #sirenix #dryadix #harpix #coatlnix #nymphix #DONT look at these too closely the line art and some coloring is a mess i got sick of them half way through #Fairy of embers title subject to change but i like it for now #something about Daphne is so wrong I want to put her in a jar and study her <3

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zzztlk · 7 months

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I'm really curious what Regan's family situation is (p.s also I really love your work it makes me so happy!!!!!)

Ty! Regan is a middle class failson that comes from a family of healthcare workers and small time restauranteurs. They're generally good people who care about each other but she distances herself from them for reasons nobody really understands. It's unfortunate, but it'll probably turn out fine. At the end of day family ties are precious threads right?

#ttb #asks #fought like hell not to insert a corny title drop in that blurb #The craziest reveal I have had yet to speak about is that Regan's hair is purple because her mom has blue hair and her dad's is pink.#It was a spur of the moment gag I inserted to explain why Regan never has to re-dye her hair.#But now that the story is supposed to be more grounded I'm slowly phasing it out #Regan

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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her.

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak.

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place.

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him.

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening.

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail.

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench.

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency.

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.”

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself.

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found.

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there.

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames.

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.”

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did.

He became a smuggler because of it.

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way.

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course.

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him.

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles

“You think she would have wanted this for you?”

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence.

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.”

All he can do is nod.

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit.

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live.

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago.

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo”

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them.

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands.

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face.

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity.

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?”

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be.

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.”

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again.

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.”

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples.

“One.”

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun.

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.”

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins.

“Four.”

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet.

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?”

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless.

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same.

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head.

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun.

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #i had an idea of something similar for tommy but on outbreak night he uh. abandons you instead of getting separated from you #because. angst :D #people say nice things #this was incredibly generous of you anon thank you so so much!#i may get myself a little starbucks drink this week now because I havent had starbucks since like january 1st lol #joel reeling from taking in all this information and also realizing he suckerpunched HIS OWN KID #id like to apologize for all the grammatical issues with this. this is just a bulletpoint word vomit to get my thoughts on the page before-#-beginning the actual fic. also I have to do a midterm tonight and this is my treat to myself hehe #but yes. joel getting separated from his wife on outbreak night and having to accept that shes probably dead #meanwhile youve lived this entire life without him because you think HES dead ad raising your boys all on your own #which just- further digs into his insecurities about failing in his role as a protector #he couldn't save sarah. he can't save ellie and he couldn't even save you #he thinks about you pregnant and alone. fending for yourself in a world full of infected and raiders and his chest grows tight again #this is all followed by Ellie going >:O 'you KNOW THIS PSYCHO?'and then joel immediately snapping at her to WATCH HER MOUTH #because that kid has no filter and he has to explain that youre his wife #anyways joels wife is a badass mfer who also maybe has a little garden and some chickens that you and your boys take care of <3 yeah .#reunion tag #ill be using that for this specific couple because I dont have a fic title yet but if anybody has suggestions!

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silkspunweb · 4 months

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A Gift from Santa

w.c.: 4.2k

it's just delusional fluff. husband!nanami x reader, papamin in his glory. a very late christmas fic.

a/n: As President of the Haitchverse Fanclub, thank you for all you do for us fellow kento/hiromi lovers @pseudowho ❤️

School days were coming to a stop as the days ended sooner, the air was frostier, and the holidays got closer. You mentally scolded yourself for not ending class earlier this week so the kids could finally get some time off when you hear Itadori think aloud, "Ah, we only have a few days of school left before the holiday break, huh."

"Hmm? Oh yeah," Kugisaki responded, "I was going to do some Christmas shopping."

"You're going to do it at peak Christmas shopping time??"

"Why not? Might as well get some shopping done for a new year wardrobe!" She snickered.

Noticing your curiosity, Fushiguro turned to you and asked, "What about you, Mrs. Nanami?"

"Me?"

"Yeah! What do you and Nanamin plan on doing for Christmas?" Itadori perked at the idea of his favorite teacher and favorite mentor doing mundane holiday things.

You responded without thinking much about the question, "I think we're going to work on dinner together and have some family over." Though, as soon as those words came out, there was a sense of deflation in the air.

"Ah, I see." They all shared a look, then Itadori spoke up, "I think this is my first time spending it without Grandpa."

"Now that you mention it, this is my first time spending it in Tokyo," Kugisaki shrugged.

"Usually, my sister plans dinner for us," Fushiguro said.

You could almost hear the lonely sigh they gave out as they tightly tugged their lips into a curt smile. Your heart went out to these kids. 'They're still so young. They shouldn't be spending Christmas by themselves in their dorms.' You frowned, trying to think of ways to spend time with them without making them think it was out of pity. There must be something their teacher can do. After all, what's closest to a parent figure than a teacher? Perhaps this was something your husband could solve.

Your husband. That's it. You quickly packed your bag, waving the kids off as they said their goodbyes and left the room. 'Would Kento oppose this?' You wondered, 'Nah, surely even he can't be that callous.' You headed straight for the door before pausing, "Ah, but he's definitely going to mock me for this."

You got home before Kento and sent him a quick message that you'd be preparing dinner. It was a little crazy, that idea of yours, but the craziest part would be if Ken would actually play along in your schemes (as he would call it).

"You know, you shouldn't poke your nose where it doesn't belong." You remembered him telling you that right before you took up the position to fill in as Gojo's substitute. "You're only going to get attached to them, Darling." Psh, what did he know? Only just about everything about you.

"I'm not going to get attached, Ken, I'm just doing a favor for an old friend. Besides, those kids are going to join us on the battlefield someday, maybe even tomorrow. They need someone to guide them properly, especially when Gojo's not around." You grumbled on the drive home, peering at him from the corner of your eyes as he chuckled.

"Sure love, whatever you say." He remained focused on the street before him, "Ten dollars says you do, though."

"Nanami Kento," you faked a gasp," are you making a bet with me right now?"

"Nothing wrong with a little indulgence, is there?" You turned to him with a raised brow. There was a playful glint to his eye; he knew what he was doing here, baiting you into these childish games. There was no real prize here; the money would stay where it belonged, but he got the right to say he won.

You scoffed to yourself, 'No one would believe me if I said that my husband would partake in stupid bets like this.' You rolled your eyes at him, "Alright, ten if you win. But if I win, I want to change the color of our bedroom."

He raised a brow at you, "What's wrong with our bedroom color?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, our new room color is just going to be a reminder of my new victory."

"You're a little too confident here, don't you think," he chuckled.

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. How dare he be right about everything. You felt the embarrassment on your face as you mixed the curry roux in the pot. Ugh, he was going to be so smug when he heard your stupid plans.

You could back down now, there was no reason you couldn't. Hell, maybe if it was a month ago, you wouldn't even think a second thought about these kids. But Kento, he just had to be good with children. You didn't think much of it when he came to pick you up from your mission with the kids last month. You didn't think much of it when he asked you and the kids if you guys ate yet. You didn't think much of it when he invited them to join you guys for dinner at home, seeing that it was late at night. You didn't think much of it when he offered them the couch and the spare bedrooms. You didn't think much of it when he told Itadori to eat his vegetables, handed Kugisaki a spare hair tie, and gave his seat to Fushiguro at the dinner table. You didn't think much of it when he told them to go relax, cool off, and that he would handle the dishes. But man, you saw the fond look in his eyes when he dropped them off at their dorm the next morning. You saw how happy he was to have them around, to occupy the spaces of your shared home, to relax and share a meal with these kids at the dinner table. Call it camaraderie, mentor-mentee relationship, or authoritative affections. Call it whatever you want, but Kento was meant to be a dad.

You smiled at the pot of curry in front of you. You knew he was going to mock you, but you couldn't help but wish that you were making this dinner for five right now instead of two. You knew that even though he was going to tease the hell out of you for feeling this way, the feelings were mutual and he wanted them around too. So, you sucked in a deep breath when you heard his car pull up in the driveway, turned off the stove, and made towards the door to welcome him in.

You opened the door before he could even pull out his keys, throwing yourself into his arms as he walked in.

He leaned in, putting his face into the crook of your neck, “Well hello to you, too.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, taking in the little things that made his home whole.

“Welcome home,” you pressed your face into his chest, unwilling to let him see the look of defeat evident in your eyes.

He pulled away to look at you, your eyes downcasted and a slight puff in your cheeks. “What sort of trouble did you get into this time?” He mused.

“I need your help, Kento.” He quirked a brow at you as you suddenly helped him take off his winter coat and scarf. “There's something bothering me at school.” A light tug to loosen his tie, “It's been killing me all day,” another tug, “and I just don't know what to do.” You glared at the offending piece of fabric as if it was the cause of your demise. “Will you help me?”

“That depends,” he hummed, “what's got you so worked up that you need my help at school?” You gave out an exaggerated sigh, walking back into the kitchen to plate him his dinner. He followed, washing his hands and setting up the table. “Is this about the kids?” He doesn't even look at you, knowing you'd do anything to deny it. It was childish, you both knew it, but you couldn't help the heat creeping up your back. How does he always know? There was a pause, then another. You placed two plates onto the dinner table, sitting down without another word, red staining your cheeks as you flushed in embarrassment. He sat down and chuckled, “I'm right, aren't I?” You scrunched your nose at him, debating to deny it or admit your grievances. “Darling,” he reached his hand across the table for you to meet his in the middle, “is this about the kids?”

Another deep sigh, “Yes Kento, it's about the kids.” You rolled your eyes, slipping him a ten dollar bill across the table.

He chuckled, “You know that's not what I wanted in the first place.”

“Ken, really?” You frowned at him, placing one hand on top of his. His brows quirked up, making you run your other hand through your hair. “Alright, alright. You were right. I grew attached to the kids. I said I wouldn't, but I did. You warned me and you told me so. Now stop being a butt head, and help me with this.”

“I was going to tell you to say, ‘please,’ but this'll do too,” he gave a gentle squeeze. “Now, what did you have in mind?”

“I need you to dress as Santa.”

“No.”

“But—

“Absolutely not.”

“Ken—”

“Nope.” He met your offending glare with indifference on his own face. “Why on Earth would I dress as Santa.”

“It's for the experience.”

“You think I should experience wearing red velvet and a—”

“No, not for you! The experience is for them.” His face deadpanned. “I'm serious, I think you should dress as Santa, like when dads pretend to be Santa for their—”

“They're not our kids.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Of all things you want me to do—”

“It'd make a fond memory for them!”

“To put me in a big red coat and that ugly—”

“You wouldn't even have to wear the beard!” He gave you a pointed look. “Okay, the beard would help a lot, but Ken—”

“No.” You opened your mouth in protest, “Absolutely not.” A pout formed on your face, cheeks starting to puff in frustration. He gave out a big sigh, “I'll get them gifts to open for Christmas. Won't that suffice?” He poked one of your inflated cheeks. “We can even head over to celebrate with them if it'll make you happy.” You refused to look at him at this point, disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for your plans.

Getting up to clear your dinner, you grumbled as you walked past him to the sink, “They don't have anyone to go home to like we do. I just want to give them something happy to remember.” Your words hung uncomfortably in the air as he stared down at what was left of his dinner. He heard the tap turn on, then off. You left him to simmer in his thoughts. Another big sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, he quietly pulled out his phone and made some orders online.

“They're not our kids.” Why did he say that? He knew you saw how happy he was whenever the kids were over for dinner.

“You don't mean that.” You were right. He didn't mean it. He loved every minute of it when the kids stayed over, even if dinner time was rowdier and messier than usual. Even if he had to give up some of his comfort and private space to have these kids around. Even when he had to scold them for something as miniscule as eating their vegetables out of his work hours, for goodness sake. “I just want to give them something happy to remember.” He frowned. This could've been a happy memory for you, too. After all, it was just one day, probably not even the entire day in a stupid red suit. So what if he thought it was ugly, that dumb suit could've really made his wife happy. He groaned, opening his phone once again to make another impulsive purchase. He may have won your little bet, but it seems like you won something else after all. Even if you didn't know it yet.

After he cleared his own plates, he made his way to get ready for bed so he could return to you. He walked through the bedroom door, disappointed to find you facing the other way. You weren't even sparing a glance at your husband nor making any cheeky comments about how wet he looked and how low that towel hung around his waist. Nothing, zilch. He sighed again, throwing on a pair of checkered pajama bottoms before making his way next to you. He had his arm over your waist, testing the waters, and a little glad that you hadn't shaken him off.

“Good night,” you grumbled.

He pressed his own “good night” into the crown of your head.

You woke up a little earlier than usual with your husband's arms around you tighter than it was last night. With one arm across your chest and the other around your waist, he had your hips flush against his. It was so pleasant, you almost forgot why you had your back facing him to begin with. You blinked the sleep away, mentally at war with yourself to either stay or to forcefully peel away from his embrace. You shouldn't, ‘He doesn't deserve it,’ you pouted. ‘Even if I reaaaallly want to, I should be firm about this.’ You tried to reason yourself as you felt him shift from behind, only pulling you in closer, tighter. His face was in your hair, his puffs of breath tempting you to go back to sleep. You mentally screamed, ‘Damn him! I need to— ugh. It's so comfortable.’ You wanted to cry. This was the ideal morning, but you had to get up now if you wanted to work on setting up the classroom for the kids. Time was of the essence, and since somebody denied you of some good, fun Christmas spirits, you just had to make up for the non-participating party's lack of enthusiasm.

You willed yourself to pull away from your husband as you slipped out of the comforter, not making it far before he had his arm around you again. “Stay.” You didn't realize he had sat up when you tried to sneak off. If not for the arm that wound around your belly, you would've mistaken his low morning voice for something else. It was something akin to dark chocolate and warmed honey, running deep and slow; it woke you up in the morning. You wanted to whine at how unfair he was being. How affectionate and cuddly for someone so stern and callous last night. You shook your head and quickly pulled yourself out of his arms and into the shower.

‘I have to stay strong,’ you repeated to yourself under the freezing water. After getting dressed, you went to the kitchen where you found your distracting husband in just his checkered pajama bottoms. ‘Oh, dear lord, I am not your strongest soldier.’ He gave a soft smile, his hair sticking to one way and the other. You wanted to run your hand through it so bad, but if you got any closer, you might not leave as early as you had hoped.

“G’morning.” There he goes again. Him and his stupid, perfect face, and his stupid, perfect— “I made you tea and breakfast.” Oh no.

You forced yourself to grab the coffee pot instead, “No thanks, I plan on leaving to work earlier today.” You didn't even bother with the cream and sugar, needing the bitter taste to jolt you out of this domestically inviting scene. Nope, nope, nope. You grabbed a piece of toast, gave him a quick peck on the cheek for good morning, and rushed to the door before he could stop you from leaving again. He blinked at the whirlwind that was his wife, frowning when you slammed the door. The door opened again, “I'll be a little late today! Don't wait up!” His frown deepened at the second door slam. Knowing you, you were probably going to set up some lights and a small tree in the classroom or at the dorms just to make it a little more festive for the kids at school.

“I must've really messed up,” he scratched the back of his neck, “No use in moping about it now.” He sighed and eyed the unwanted cup, then went to check his phone.

You were quieter than usual for the next couple of days, not so much as being upset with him, but more distracted with your thoughts. You already had the lights up to the kids’ surprise that one morning and promised them that the tree will have more ornaments the next day. They tried to wave you off, saying, “No need ma'am, you already do enough for us,” and “Really, we're fine, it's just Christmas.” You hushed them, something about ‘the presents are already wrapped’ and you ��already mailed Santa for them’. You knew they were old enough not to believe in some merry folklore, but you wanted them to look forward to something this week. You checked your phone to see if the surprise was going to arrive on time.

‘Today's Wednesday, and the package is going to come tonight. Then break starts…Friday?’ Your brows furrowed, ‘Would I have time to get dinner for them too? Ugh, I should've told Kento to prepare food instead of wearing a Santa suit or something. That would've been smarter. Ah! What about the second years? Did I buy their gifts yet?’ The day ended, leaving only two days left for you to prepare, so you hurried home to think of gift ideas for the others. ‘Socks are only cool when you're in college and realize you need to appreciate useful things, like parents who provide socks,’ you scoffed to yourself. ‘What would high schoolers even like? Are CD albums still cool? But what do they listen to? Do they even listen to TommyHeavenly6 or L’Arc-en-Ciel? Oh god, am I outdated now? Are Scandal still cool??? Ah, focus! Now’s not the time. What would these kids like for Christmas?”

You pulled up into your driveway, making your way to your front door, brows still furrowed as you nearly walked into your husband, “Oomph.”

“Welcome home,” he said warmly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he helped you out of your work shoes. “How was work?”

You eyed him momentarily before speaking, “It's going well, I think. The kids are…Well, they're losing focus now that break is just two days away, so it's hard to get them focused on the lesson. Itadori nearly ran into the door this morning because he forgot about doors.” You chuckled fondly, “Though I suppose that's my fault for putting up all those Christmas decorations. I probably got them excited and whatnot.” You tiptoed ever so slightly to kiss him on the cheek, “What did you do today?”

“Had a mission that ended early, so I made dinner,” he said. It wasn't a total lie, he did make dinner, but instead of a mission, he actually drove around town, picking up what you missed on your not-so-secret Christmas plans list. He knew it wasn't going to fully make up for his harsh words, but you were going to appreciate it either way.

Dinner went smoothly. Better actually, now that you were both hip to hip at the sink, washing dishes together. You two were back to your usual routine; he connected Bluetooth to your phone, and you got to play music that made you nostalgic for your teen years again. He rolled his eyes when you blew sudsy bubbles at him, “Real mature,” he hip bumped you before flicking water onto your glasses. His heart swelled seeing you look at him, like it was his first time again, seeing how your smile widened the slightest of increments or how your eyes darkened a little more with mirth. With another nudge, he insisted you showered and got ready for bed, “I can handle the rest,” he waved you away.

After you showered, you went to bed, tucking yourself underneath his chin, and pressed a kiss to his sternum for “good night.” He could've melted right there and then under your touch, but instead held you close, hoping the next few days were going to be to be easier for the both of you.

Thursday went by fast, and all of a sudden it was Friday. ‘D-Day’ as you'd called it in your head. ‘Kento’s gonna be at work, so he probably won't make it to see the kids open their gifts.’ You frowned as you remembered the shaky handwritten cards you wrote for the second years, embarrassed that you had to stick to gift cards in the end. Nothing wrong with gift cards, but you would've liked to be as personal with their gifts as you were with the first years.

It was a bit before lunch that you decided to give them a short break, and quickly made your way to the bathroom to change into your outfit. It was a silly oversized red coat, and you realized why Kento had been so stubborn about wearing such a thing. You laughed at yourself in the mirror, ‘Okay, I get it, it is ugly.’ You made a beeline for the staff room, imagining Kento’s reaction to you and the hideous outfit, but nothing could've prepared you for what you saw next. Your husband, the love of your life, the most stubborn man on Earth, stood before you in the same exact outfit. You could've sworn you were in the soda can commercial with how cold and stiff his face was.

“Kento.”

“Yes?”

“What on Earth are you wearing?”

“I could say the same to you,” he raised an eyebrow, eyeing you up and down.

“I thought you didn't want to,” you trailed off, not sure if you should be pointing and laughing or crying over your husband in those ridiculous clothes.

“I didn't.”

“Then why are you—”

“You were right.” You stared at him with your mouth wide open, “The beard does help a lot.” He offered a taut smile and you jumped into his arms, happy enough that you could have married this man a second time.

“I can't believe you,” you buried your face into his neck, “you silly, silly man.”

He let out what sounded like a small laugh, “Let's go before I change my mind about this outfit.” He gave you a peck on the forehead and went to pick up the bags off the table.

“You got them gifts???” He raised his eyebrow once more, opening the bag to show you the contents. Your face fell at the trays of food, “Really??”

“Hey, these kids are big eaters, and besides, you left food off your list.”

“Ah! You saw that?” You flushed, unable to contain the smile growing wider on your face.

“Of course I saw it, it was the only thing you looked at all week,” he rolled his eyes, taking your hand in his free one as you both walked back to the classroom.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Dunno, but next time, how about you don't reject my—”

A water bottle fell to the floor when the door opened.

“Na-nanamin?”

“Why are there two Santas?”

There was a camera shutter click. “I'll send this to you guys later,” Kugisaki smiled.

“But seriously, what are you two wearing?”

Kento sighed, “There was a little mix up. Mrs. Claus here almost left some of the gifts back at home, so I'm here to deliver the rest of the presents.”

You smiled at him before turning to them, “You should go call for the second years, tell them to come inside for lunch.”

The kids immediately rushed outside to bring the upperclassmen in. Something about, “Hurry up,” “Food’s here,” and “Forget the food, hurry before he changes out of those clothes!”

No one understood why Kento was dressed as Santa. After all, he wasn't technically their teacher. Sure, they’d had dinner with him a few times, but did that really warrant buying them presents and helping them celebrate with a Christmas meal? Or maybe he lost a bet? No, Nanamin would never take part in bets. Then what was it? They weren't exactly sure. All they knew was that the way he smiled at his wife was the same as when he sat at the dinner table with them at home. The Nanamis sure love Christmas, they joked. You watched all five kids lean in towards your husband as Kugisaki whipped her phone out for a selfie with Santa. It reminded you that you ought to capture the moment while Kento was still willing to participate. With another click of a shutter, you took the picture of your smiling husband and your kids.

“Darling,” he gave you a warning glare.

“Oh, c’mon Santa, lighten up,” Maki joked and the others giggled.

You poked his side, “Yeah, Santa, who knows when I'll get to see you like this again.”

Nothing could have prepared you for his response; he gave you another flat look, then replied, “Probably when we have our own kids.”

credits to @cafekitsune for the beautiful Christmas banner

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #papamin ♡#everyone needs to read pseudowho's work #gotta post this before someone takes my crown title #thanks to my best friend too cuz she's been pushing me to write and post for years now but she's not on here so it's hard to tag her #thank you to the two who supported me ❤️#and thank you for those of you who are reading ❤️#stay warm and safe :)#silk spun tales

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anna-scribbles · 5 months

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thirteen update 🍂 🎹 🏠 👻

chapter 2: November

chapter summary:

She was in a good mood. If she was ever going to take it well, it would be now.

“Maman, what if I went to school this year?”

excerpt:

“Heh.” Adrien flicked a finger beneath his chin and strutted the length of his bathroom floor, glancing at himself in the mirror. He twirled a rose—a red one, one he’d grabbed from the vase downstairs—between his fingers and then presented it to the mirror with a flourish.

“Haruhi!” he declared, “the spring of my heart surges upon the sight of your fresh smile, my love. My heart beats at the command of your drum! Your face is the fierce longing of my soul, and I present to you now this token of my lavish, undying—”

A sharp knock clicked against the bedroom door and Adrien froze, his hand still passionately hovering over his heart.

“Adrien?” Nathalie’s voice called, and Adrien—true to character, if he did say so himself—startled so hard that he slipped and fell onto his butt on the tile.

“Yeah?” he called, hastily pulling himself up and trying to find a place to set down the rose.

Nathalie peeked her head through the bathroom door and took him in, his rumpled hair and the too-small blue blazer he’d saved in the back of his closet for occasions such as…this.

“You have a guest,” she said flatly, and Adrien could not for the life of him figure out whether she was making fun of him.

She left before he could decide, and then it was only a matter of seconds before his bathroom door was thrown all the way open and a blonde ponytail bobbed into view.

“Adrikins!” Chloé crashed into him, wrapping him up in a hug that nearly knocked him over again. “It’s been way too long. You’ve been neglecting me. Aw, did you get me a rose?” She plucked it from his hands and then scrunched up her nose. “Ew, is this real?”

“As real as the current that springs from the well of my heart,” Adrien invented, and Chloé frowned at him like he’d just spoken Greek. “Nevermind.”

She looked him up and down and scrunched her nose up even more. “What did you do to your hair?”

Adrien frowned at his reflection in the mirror and pushed his hair further over to the side.

“I was trying to make it look cool.” He’d been trying to make it look like Tamaki from Ouran High School Host Club.

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed.”

read on ao3

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #miraculous #thirteen #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #my art #HAPPY NOVEMBER(<-girl who procrastinates. it is the last day of november)#still. it counts.#shout out to me for deciding to draw a title card at midnight last night.#a weird thing abt me is that I have such a hard time drawing emilie. even here I had to cut half her face off.#something something ghost of a person. not tangible enough to pin down not even while she's still alive. just the idea of a perfect mother #a beautiful memory #what is it like to be the dead wife before she's dead?#etc etc. anyway there's endless tamaki suoh references in here. sorry #(<-isn't sorry)#I love fact checking myself in my own tags #okay happy thursday everybody I gotta do my work now

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kingofmyborrowedheart · 7 months

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Thinking about the vault opening with “Slut!,”which I’m anticipating being really upbeat and snarky a lá “Blank Space” and it’s punctuated with an exclamation mark and closing with “Is It Over Now?” which I’m sensing might be a little more down tempo and it’s punctuated with a question mark. Perhaps a journey from exuberance to uncertainty, reflecting the high highs and low lows of the era?

#taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #slut!#is it over now?#call me Lorde because I’m overthinking punctuation #I feel like the punctuation is significant in some way because it usually is in her songs/title

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checanty · 6 months

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I just noticed I didn't tell you yet--which is shameful as it is Tumblr where the Mermaid Scientist was born! My Mermaid Book was picked up by Eye of Newt and is available for pre-order right now (it's coming out very soon, though, so any orders should make it until Christmas if that's a concern of yours)! If you're in North America, I'd suggest ordering directly through my publisher's website, however it's available anywhere you'd usually order books. You can ask your favourite indie book shop to order it for you or--if there's no other option or you're worried about crazy shipping costs where you live--it's available via the place starting with A, which shall otherwise not be named, as well. Please note: This is an edited version of the original book. It's shorter, but with more coherent world building and a beautiful new layout and design. It's a proper field guide now!

#Mermaid book #books #mermaids #field guide #art book #this makes me a traditionally published author-illustrator now :DDD #when we talked about editing the book for publication my publisher was like #we love Dr Lillefisk #Let's keep her!#Now she's in the title!#I made her up on a whim!#Her name is just grammatically incorrect Swedish #I love it so much #just thinking about how everything started and came together #and the book changed and grew and now #7 years later this is where we are!#my publisher send me the video btw #I can't wait to get the book myself!!

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stuckinapril · 2 months

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A toxic trait I had when I was taking organic chemistry is I’d listen to love songs but instead of thinking about a hypothetical lover like a normal person I contextualized the songs as being about me getting the grade I wanted

#Like you think I’m bad about studying NOW you did not see me during my orgo era #One of my friends found out and lost her mind like I did not live that down for weeks #She ended up making a playlist titled organic chemistry and just filled it w obsessive love songs.#Orgo 2 was a TRIP

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thresholdbb · 6 months

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Can we talk about The Dying Swan moment in Coda? As someone who was once a very serious ballerina, I need to talk about the Dying Swan. Here's your context --

CHAKOTAY: Harry's clarinet solo was okay. I could have done without Tuvok's reading of Vulcan poetry. But the highlight of the evening was definitely Kathryn Janeway portraying the Dying Swan. JANEWAY: I learned that dance when I was six years old. I assure you, it was the hit of the Beginning Ballet class.

Have you seen The Dying Swan? It is dramatic.

Here, take a minute:

youtube

First of all, this dance is much too advanced for a six-year-old, even if they’re doing it in demi pointe. (Six-year-olds emphatically should not be in pointe shoes btw.) The dance is almost entirely bourees and arm movements done to very subtle musical cues, not the foundational ballet moves typically taught in Beginning Ballet.

This is a very vulnerable, dramatic dance that is effective because of its subtleties. The performer would need to embody that vulnerability in some way for a convincing performance. It's short, but it's a solo piece -- all eyes on you. I mean, it was choreographed for a prima ballerina, BUT THAT'S NOT MY POINT

Can you imagine our unflappable Captain Janeway willingly getting in front of her crew to do this ballet? I get that it’s thematically relevant to the plot of Coda, but since Janeway is only vulnerable in front of her crew when it means putting herself in harm’s way, it seems like a wild decision. She tends to hold herself apart from her crew, maintaining the professional distance of the captain. Further, when she does any creative pursuit, it is almost always in private, since her sister was the artist in the family and she was the scientist. As a captain, she commands Voyager in a much different way than she would as a dancer with this piece. I'm not saying she never shows vulnerability because she definitely does, but not necessarily in this way. Then when she talks about it with Chakotay, she just casually brushes it off with a laugh like no big deal.

There’s also the question of costume – would she have gone full tutu? Done it in her Starfleet uniform? An impeccable yet flow-y white suit? She does get into costume and command a performance in Bride of Chaotica!, but Coda is still kind of early days for our captain. Arachnia aligns more with what we know about Janeway's character.

Granted, it is Chakotay laying down these complements about her dancing ability and he is clearly biased. To be fair, Neelix does too before they leave in the shuttle. If she did this dance and performed it poorly or amazingly, I feel like the crew would look at her a bit differently afterwards.

Canonically she did The Dying Swan, but I certainly have trouble picturing it happening.