#nixie talks a lot

[nixieie]

Just finished chapter 1 of project edens garden and holy shit it was such a fun ride I loved it so so much, victim and blackened reveal blew my mind and had me yelling at the screen it was so so good

SPOILER WARNINGS!! Gonna rant about the chapter a little bit!!

LIKE EVERYTHING WAS AMAZING. Kaimon interactions? I ate it up their scenes were SO CUTE like hello roommates? SHARING THE BED? Gaming tournament and laundry scenes? ALL YES. Blackout and kai sticking to damon immediately to check out the storage closet? THEM FINDING THE BODY TOGETHER? EVEN MORE YES!! I just love them so much what gayasses I swear

Wolfgang dying had my jaw on the floor too THE BODY DISCOVERY ART WAS HORRIFYING IN SUCH A WONDERFUL WAY his frozen expression was beautiful and so realistic I got chills looking at him. Poor wolfie man, didn't deserve what he got :(

AND RIP TO WOLFGRACE TOO I WAS ROOTING FOR THEM SO BADLY THEY WERE SO CUTE AND THEN THIS HAPPENS. Grace's reaction was heartbreaking I felt so bad for her 😭

Them canonically doing it before wolfgang died the next day was so funny though I can't believe the lead writer confirmed it for real I will miss you wolfgrace

AND NOW THE CULPRIT. I did NOT expect eva, yet it makes a lot of sense. Her character was so damn good like please her flaws and actions makes her amazing writing wise. Her execution was BRUTAL and just as horrifying as the body discovery. Its the expressions!! Her agonized face when she got stabbed while climbing up had me hiding my face behind my fingers it was so hard to watch (because it was so realistic i could almost feel the pain she was feeling, that's what makes it so good)

And holy shit poor diana. Imagine having someone go through something awful and not being able to do anything and then they just die in front of you just like that. She didn't deserve any of that :(

Did not expect both the supposed support and antagonist to die in the same chapter. THE FIRST CHAPTER TOO!! Yet I love it so much all the same because it makes sense and I'm now hoping kai is damons new support (biased I know he's my favorite pls)

[witchywithwhiskey]

an afternoon of pumpkin picking

pairing: sugar daddy!ransom drysdale x sugar baby!female reader

summary: you've convinced your sugar daddy to take you pumpkin picking—despite his reservations about spending any amount of time on a farm—and the perfectly autumnal date takes a turn when deeper feelings come to light.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, masturbation (f), guided masturbation, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, filming/recording/taking sexual photos, oral sex (m receiving), light bdsm, free use, pussy spanking, panty sniffing, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (nixie, baby), love confessions (a bit of idiots in love), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 11.6k

a/n: this fic is inspired by this exchange about various babes as sugar daddies taking their sugar babies on fall dates. i loved the idea of ransom being a little grumpy about going pumpkin picking, and then it morphed into this because i decided i wanted to explore their deeper emotional connection so uh it ended up being a lot longer than i expected. but it's also very cozy and smutty and fluffy and perfect for this time of year!!! anyway, i had fun writing this, so i hope y'all enjoy reading it!!

Can’t believe you talked me into this.

The text from your sugar daddy, Ransom Drysdale, arrived on a brisk September morning as you were getting ready for the perfectly autumnal date you’d convinced him to plan. As you read the message, you could practically hear the affectionate exasperation in his tone, which made you smile to yourself.

It had taken quite a bit of your powers of persuasion to get Ransom Drysdale—the heir to the Blood Like Wine Publishing dynasty and the most blue-blooded Boston man you’d ever met—to agree to take you pumpkin picking out in the “boonies,” as he called anywhere beyond the city limits that wasn’t his “ancestral estate” (also his words). 

But since you’d been seeing him for over a year, you knew all of Ransom’s weaknesses. And you’d used them to make a deal with your sugar daddy.

You’re going to have fun, I promise :) Don’t forget our deal.

You certainly hoped Ransom hadn’t forgotten about the arrangement you’d struck that ended up with him taking you pumpkin picking, especially since it was all you could think about that morning as you got ready and did your hair and makeup. Your thoughts kept straying to the deal you’d made, what you’d given him in exchange for the autumnal date of your dreams. 

Ransom Drysdale was a dealmaker by trade, overseeing all publication acquisitions for Blood Like Wine. So after all your normal methods of persuasion had failed to convince him to take you pumpkin picking, you’d offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse. It was one that you knew you both would enjoy, but Ransom especially since it appealed to his nature. 

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine as you stood inside the walk-in closet of your Beacon Hill townhouse apartment—the one Ransom paid for, of course. 

It had been a gift when you’d accepted his request to be exclusively his sugar baby. He was the only man in your life anymore, and he’d said he wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so he got you the apartment and set up an allowance to make up for the other relationships you’d had to end.

Truthfully, it had been an incredibly easy decision to accept Ransom’s request. He was easily the youngest and handsomest of any man you’d been a sugar baby to—and if you had the tiniest little crush on him, you’d been certain you’d be able to keep it locked down so you didn’t jeopardize your relationship. 

After all, Ransom had been clear when you first met: He wasn’t looking to fall in love.

Unfortunately for you, over the year that you’d been seeing him exclusively, your crush had blossomed into full-blown feelings. It was hard not to care for the grumpy, sarcastic publishing executive. He made you laugh, he made you feel safe, and the sex with him was better than any you’d ever had.

More than a year into seeing him and it got harder and harder to hide the fact that you cared deeply for him. You wanted to bundle yourself in one of his sweaters and stay with him forever—but you knew you couldn’t let on about your feelings. You didn’t want to risk him finding out and ending your relationship because he feared you were falling in love with him…

Of course, there were other ways your relationship could end.

Your fingers toyed with the sleeve of a sweater hanging in your closet as you thought about your sugar daddy. A pit in your stomach opened wide as you considered, yet again, it was probably inevitable that one day he would grow tired of you and move on to someone else. Even if you didn’t tell him how you felt, he could still leave you.

It was what happened with these kinds of relationships—the men left when they got bored or tired. Or when they wanted to settle down. Or when they fell in love with someone else.

Add to that, you were keenly aware that you were getting old enough that a man as young as Ransom—who was in his 40s—might want to soon trade you in for a newer, younger model. 

The thought broke your heart a little, and you had to push it away. You cut off the entire train of thought, knowing that it would lead nowhere good, especially when your sugar daddy was due to pick you up in just a short time. As you went back to getting ready, in your mind, you repeated your mantra to yourself: You would not love Ransom Drysdale.

It was a lie, of course, but you were hoping that if you said it to yourself enough times it would become true. It hadn’t worked yet, though. 

Thankfully, your phone vibrated, distracting you.

Wear that skirt I like. And one of the sweaters you stole from me.

A huff of an affronted laugh escaped you at the brisk tone of Ransom’s message. You hated it when he barked orders at you like you were one of the interns at his office. Sure, technically you were his employee, but he didn’t have to use that tone—especially before a date.

You assumed he was cranky because he still didn’t want to go pumpkin picking, but that didn’t mean you had to put up with it. Or respond at all. Even if you did follow his orders, since that was part of your deal for the day.

Tossing your phone on your bed without replying, you pulled out the skirt he was referring to from your closet. It was a short, flouncy thing that swished dangerously around your thighs, offering tantalizing teases of your ass to anyone who might be looking at your backside. 

Ransom loved it because it afforded him a sneak peek of what lingerie you were wearing. One of his favorite things to gift you as his sugar baby was lingerie. He loved seeing you in it, touching you in it, fucking you in it. And what he liked most was sneaking a peek of your lingerie from those glimpses beneath your flouncy skirt.

On that September morning, you selected a black satin matching set to wear beneath the skirt, then pulled a maroon sweater from the pile in your closet.

He may have been a spoiled, rich man, but Ransom was a gentleman, and if you were cold, he’d give you his sweater—which was how you’d amassed a small hoard of your sugar daddy’s sweaters. You never could bring yourself to give them back once they made their way into your closet. Nor could you bear to wash them. 

In your loneliest moments, you’d pull on one of Ransom’s sweaters and let the expensive scent of his cologne comfort you. He smelled like whiskey and something spicy—something that matched perfectly with the fall and winter. 

You’d never told anyone about wearing Ransom’s sweaters when you were alone in your Beacon Hill apartment, but your sugar daddy knew you’d collected many of them. 

Ransom didn’t seem to mind, though. Or, at least, he never asked for them back. But sometimes, like that day, he’d ask that you wear one for him. It always sent a special thrill through you to wear your sugar daddy’s sweaters, like it meant he was staking a claim on you that was deeper and more like a typical romantic relationship. 

A giddy, happy smile curled your lips as you got dressed and added jewelry before checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still done to your satisfaction. 

You were just pulling on some black mary jane shoes when your phone chimed with another text. 

Let me see, nixie. 

Your traitorous heart fluttered at the nickname. Most of the sugar daddies you’d had relationships with called you by much more common pet names—sweetheart, honey—if they used them at all. But leave it to Ransom to pull a pet name from obscure European folklore. 

You’d had to look it up after the first time he used it, and when you found out it was a kind of river mermaid who lured men to their deaths, you’d laughed to yourself. Ransom had essentially likened you to a siren, and at the time, you’d wondered if he believed you could lure him to his death. It seemed ridiculous, especially when you were the one in danger of getting their heart broken.

Sometimes, when he used that pet name, you wondered if Ransom liked you as much as you liked him. If that was why he’d chosen it, because he worried you’d hurt him somehow. But that was a dangerous thought and you reminded yourself it would only lead to heartbreak. 

You tried not to have a reaction to the nickname. You tried to stop your heart from fluttering and your lips from curving into a smile. But it was impossible.

So to distract yourself, you did as Ransom had asked in his message. You snapped a quick photo of your outfit—the short, flouncy skirt paired with his maroon sweater and your black mary janes. You’d chosen to forgo tights because September in Massachusetts could get warm, especially with the sun shining as brightly as it was outside your window.

You sent the photo and began gathering your things to wait for Ransom to arrive for your date, but his response came back quicker than you expected.

Pretty, but I want to see it in person. I’m outside.

Your heart gave another flutter at the compliment, then flipped entirely when he said he was outside. Bounding to your bedroom window that overlooked the cobblestone streets of Beacon Hill, you grinned when you saw Ransom’s silver 1972 BMW coupe parked outside your door. 

Ransom might not be as excited for your pumpkin picking date as you were, but he was early. That had to mean something, right? 

You didn’t let that thought flourish any further, pushing it aside as you grabbed your keys and phone and shoved them in the bag you’d picked to match your outfit. Then you were flouncing down the stairs of your townhouse to the front door and pushing through it, pausing only to lock it behind you.

When you turned to the street, you were struck with the sight of Ransom Drysdale leaning against his BMW, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand. Your heart raced and your belly swooped—it felt like your entire body was having a visceral reaction to seeing Ransom dressed in an autumnal outfit that suited him so well.

A golden brown wool coat hung off Ransom’s broad shoulders, slightly obscuring the worn cream-colored cable knit sweater that covered his expansive chest. A purple and gold scarf with some kind of intricate design hung casually around his neck, adding to the look that was completed by dark slacks, brown loafers and a pair of sunglasses with gold rims that matched the rings he wore on his hands.

Despite his sunglasses, you could feel Ransom’s eyes on you and you bit your lip against a giddy grin, worried that your schoolgirl crush on your sugar daddy would show plain as day on your face if you let it slip free. Instead, you gave him an exaggerated onceover before letting out a low whistle of appreciation as you stepped into the narrow sidewalk lining the cobblestone street.

“Quit gawking and c’mere, nixie,” Ransom growled, using his free hand to grab your waist and pull you into him. 

You landed against his broad, muscular chest with a light, “oomph,” and instantly wound your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the way he felt so steady and solid against you. 

“You love it when I check you out, don’t you, daddy?” you teased in a soft voice meant only for him. 

The street wasn’t busy, but it was so narrow that if any of your neighbors had their windows open to let in the crisp September air, they’d easily be able to overhear you. And you didn’t want anyone else hearing you call Ransom ‘daddy’—that was just for him.

“I do,” Ransom admitted in a rumbling voice, matching your low tone. “And I love looking at you in your pretty little outfit I picked out…” He trailed off, ducking down closer to you and nudging your nose to tilt your head back, ghosting his mouth over your lips teasingly when you canted your face to meet his. “But daddy needs a kiss, baby.”

The words were barely past his lips before you were surging up onto your tiptoes and kissing Ransom. He tasted like black coffee and cinnamon, and you couldn’t get enough of it. When his tongue slid across your lower lip seeking entrance, you were helpless to do anything but open for him, moaning softly as he plunged into your mouth.

The kiss had started out chaste enough for the sidewalk of Beacon Hill, but Ransom seemed to be as ravenous as you felt, hooking his arms around your waist and bending you backward with the intensity of his need to devour you. 

It had your head spinning with pleasure, but you still gave him as good as you got, kissing him back with just as much fervor, your leg rising of its own accord to hook around his thigh beneath his open coat.

Gradually, Ransom slowed the kiss until his mouth was decadently nibbling on your lower lip before licking the sting of his teeth away. Then, finally, he pulled away and you were able to drag in a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight as you lowered your leg back to the sidewalk. 

“Get in the car, nixie,” Ransom growled, though there was no anger in his tone, only a desirous heat that you recognized, since it was swirling warmly in the depths of your core. “Before I decide I’d rather take you back inside your apartment and fuck you in nothing but my sweater instead of taking you pumpkin picking.”

His free hand slid down your back and he groped the soft curve of your ass shamelessly over your skirt, right there on the street. Still, you couldn’t help but melt at his rough handling, a gasp escaping as his fingers dug ruthlessly into your flesh. 

For just a second, you debated whether you wanted Ransom to deliver on his threat, but decided against it. The prospect of seeing your sugar daddy going pumpkin picking was too good to pass up.

“Ok, ok, I’m getting in the car,” you huffed on a laugh, your voice breathy in a way you couldn’t help as you squirmed away from Ransom’s groping hand. Your sugar daddy chuckled, but let you go, then turned to open the door of his BMW for you.

He waited until you were settled on the soft leather seat, your seatbelt buckled across your lap, then leaned into the car and handed you the coffee he’d been holding. You took it with no small amount of surprise, having assumed it was his own coffee.

“For you, your favorite,” he murmured before brushing a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry for being short with you this morning.”

A stunned expression froze on your face, his words spinning around in your mind so loudly, you barely heard the thump of the car door closing. Your eyes flicked up to watch Ransom cross in front of the car, your heart racing like you’d just sprinted an entire marathon.

It was then that you knew, unequivocally, without any doubt, that you loved Ransom Drysdale. 

Your sugar daddy slid smoothly into the driver’s seat and pulled his door shut before glancing at you. You gave him a weak smile, trying to hid the fact that you felt like a bomb had just been dropped inside your heart, and his expression twisted into one of annoyance.

“Don’t tell me they fucked up your drink,” he fumed, shoving his keys in the ignition and starting his BMW. He threw an arm around the back of your seat, his chest close enough to your shoulder that you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he carefully backed up, then maneuvered onto the street. All the while, he was muttering, “It’s a fucking pumpkin spice latte, they must make thousands of them a day. How can they fuck it up?”

When he merged into traffic at the end of the street heading in the direction of the local coffee shop, Ransom finally pulled his arm away from the back of your seat. You grabbed his hand before he could put it back on the wheel, squeezing it to get his attention.

“The latte’s fine, Ran—it’s perfect,” you assured him, even though you hadn’t taken a sip yet. Some of the anger drained from his expression and he executed a u-turn to turn in the other direction of the coffee shop, but his jaw was still ticking with annoyance and you searched for an explanation that wasn’t the truth. When you couldn’t think of anything else, you blurted, “I was just surprised you remembered my favorite coffee.”

“Of course I remembered,” he said after a moment of silence. His voice was gruff, like he didn’t know what to do with his sweet gesture being addressed so directly, but his mood seemed to lighten, his annoyance forgotten. Slipping his hand from your fingers, he settled his palm firmly on your thigh, giving you a playful squeeze as he shot you a smirk. “Though I don’t think that sugary nonsense should really be called coffee,” he snarked, giving your leg another squeeze to let you know he was only teasing.

You huffed an exasperated laugh and settled your free hand on top of his, holding onto him while he drove skillfully through the busy streets of Boston, heading toward the city limits. 

Ransom’s joke washed away the remnants of whatever tension your revelation, and your need to hide it from him, had caused between the two of you. Of course, you still felt the knowledge that you loved him hovering at the edge of your mind, but it was easy to sink into Ransom’s comforting presence and, if not entirely forget about it, at least more easily pretend you didn’t know you were in love with your sugar daddy.

On the drive, you made conversation with Ransom, asking him about his work and his family. He’d spent time with them the previous weekend and hadn’t seen you as a result. But he skipped quickly over the family party he’d attended and instead focused on telling you about some of the books he’d acquired for Blood Like Wine. 

You didn’t like Ransom’s family, based on what little you knew about them. And you didn’t feel even a little bit bad about it because you were certain they’d never like you, especially considering how you’d met Ransom. But it still made you sad to think about him facing them alone. Your heart thumped with sympathy and you curled your fingers more possessively around his hand on your thigh.

Ransom shot you a lopsided smile and turned the conversation around on you, asking about what books you’d been reading, and how the rest of your hobbies were going. He didn’t need to ask about your work because he’d made sure you didn’t need a job other than keeping him company—and especially didn’t need any other sugar daddies. 

So you told him about what you were reading and all the other things you did to occupy your time while he listened and asked questions. He especially loved hearing your opinions on the Blood Like Wine books he’d acquired. 

A little over an hour outside the city, Ransom’s BMW pulled into a gravel driveway beside a large sign that read Johnson’s Family Farm. There were smaller signs lining the drive advertising the farm’s apple orchards, hayrides, farm stand, and, of course, the pumpkin patch. 

Beyond the windows of Ransom’s BMW, you could see the farm sprawling out toward the distant horizon, plenty of picturesque little red buildings and beautiful fields filled with various fruits and vegetables. But there was something off about the farm, and it took you a moment to realize what it was: The whole place was deserted. 

It was a little early in the day, just after lunch time, but you were still surprised by how empty the parking lot was. And you didn’t even see any workers, or cars that might belong to them. It was just Ransom’s BMW and the deserted farm.

“Where is everyone?” you asked, turning in your seat to Ransom. “Are you sure they’re open?” It was the weekend, they must’ve been open, but you couldn’t make sense of why no one was there.

Ransom snorted, giving you a devious smirk as he put the car in park and turned it off. 

“I bought out the farm for a couple hours, it’s just us and the pumpkins, nixie,” he explained, squeezing your thigh one last time before stepping out of the car and rounding the front to open your door for you. 

You stepped out onto the gravel in a bit of a daze, still shocked by his words. You knew Ransom was wealthy—he was a high-level executive at one of the most successful prestige publishers in the country, not to mention the money he inherited from his family—but him buying out an entire farm just for your date was one of the most extravagant things he’d ever done. Your mind reeled as you tried to fathom how much that would even cost.

Ransom curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. He’d taken off his sunglasses, so you were met with the sight of his sparkling blue eyes. Paired with his devastatingly handsome smirk, your knees instantly went weak and your mouth parted in a wordless plea for him to kiss you.

He dropped a quick peck to your lips that was over too soon and swept his thumb across your cheek in a soothing gesture, your surprise melting into happiness as you realized you got to have Ransom all to yourself on your date. 

“C’mon, nixie, did you really think I’d agree to go pumpkin picking—to go tromping through the dirt on a farm,” he scoffed, his tone warm even if it was a little derisive. “And deal with hordes of screaming children and their families?” 

Ransom raised an eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh as you rolled your eyes. You didn’t even need to answer, because of course Ransom wouldn’t want to deal with anyone else while he was enduring the absolute torture of going pumpkin picking. But then his next words distracted you from thinking about how spoiled he was.

“Besides, I haven’t forgotten our deal. I have plans for you, and we needed the farm all to ourselves for them,” he teased, his smirk turning impish as he ducked down and captured your lips in another quick kiss. 

Your heart was racing with excitement, your mind turning over his words and wondering what he could have planned for you while Ransom grabbed your hand and led you into the farm. You shook your head to clear it of all the naughty thoughts that had popped into your mind, and focused on your sugar daddy, who was following the signs toward the pumpkin patch with a grim acceptance in his expression.

The September sun was warm on your shoulders, but there was a cool breeze, the lingering chill of the morning clinging to the day and you curled around Ransom’s arm while you walked. You tried to distract your sugar daddy from the eventuality of leaving the nice dirt path to wade into the pumpkin patch by chattering about fond memories you had of going apple picking and exploring corn mazes with friends when you were younger. 

When you got to the area where you could pick your own pumpkins, Ransom paused at the edge, using your clasped hands to pull you to a stop alongside him. Your chatter cut off mid-sentence and you looked curiously to your sugar daddy, finding his brows lowered over his stormy blue eyes as he considered the haphazard spread of soft soil, scattered hay and orange pumpkins.

“I still don’t really see the point of this,” he muttered, giving the pumpkin patch a dubious look.

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking Ransom looked younger than his years in that moment—like a kid who was being introduced to something new and didn’t trust that they were going to like it. 

You curled into Ransom’s chest, your arms twining around his neck while his settled easily around your waist. You looked up at him and waited to speak until he dragged his gaze from the pumpkin patch behind you to meet your eyes.

“Normally, the point would be to take some pumpkins home and carve them,” you explained patiently. Ransom narrowed his eyes on you suspiciously, as if he believed you were going to try to convince him to do such an unfathomably pedestrian thing, and the corners of your mouth flickered as you suppressed an even wider smiler. “But something tells me even my powers of persuasion aren’t strong enough to get you to do that.”

Ransom only snorted, his eyes flicking disdainfully to the pumpkins over your shoulder then back at you. “Definitely not.” 

But there was a curiosity buried deep in his gaze, and you wondered if one day—if you were together long enough—he might be willing to try some pumpkin carving. 

Surprisingly, you could picture it. Ransom with his worn, threadbare sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grimacing as he yanked pumpkin guts from inside a big, orange gourd. It almost made you giggle to think about.

Instead, you shook your head to clear the image from your thoughts, not wanting to get your hopes up that Ransom would be a fixture in your life long enough that you could convince him to carve pumpkins with you. 

Although, maybe if you offered to blow him while he did… You shook your head again and met Ransom’s curious gaze, giving him a bright smile that was only a little bit fake.

“Then we can just pick out a couple pumpkins for my front steps,” you said sunnily, bouncing up onto your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Ransom’s cheek. “They’re pretty decorations whether we carve them or not.” 

You began to pull away, intent on starting your search for the perfect pumpkins, but Ransom’s arms tightened around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go yet.

“You’d be a much prettier decoration than any of these gourds, nixie,” he murmured, and you turned your face to him in surprise at the gruffness in his tone. There was some emotion laced through his voice that you couldn’t place, and before you could puzzle it out, Ransom’s mouth caught yours, sending your thoughts scattering as he kissed you deeply.

When you finally broke away for a breath, your body was buzzing with awareness of Ransom’s and a warmth that had nothing to do with the bright September sun had bloomed between your thighs. You had half a mind to drag Ransom back to the car and have him do something about what he’d started, but you were determined to go pumpkin picking. 

Pushing aside the distracting hum of desire filling your body, you pulled away from Ransom’s warmth and began carefully stepping through the pumpkin patch. The smell of earth and the distinct scent of pumpkins surrounded you, calming some of the buzzy heat Ransom had stirred up, and you were able to focus on your search for the perfect pumpkins.

Once Ransom got over the fact that he would have to walk through the dirt in his nice loafers—which took a few moments of complaining—he began picking his way through the pumpkins. He kept calling out to you when he’d found one that was particularly deformed or ugly in some way, trying to claim they had “character.” But you knew he was just being a pest to make you laugh and smile.

To his credit, he was making you laugh, and the smile on your face was so wide it hurt a little. 

Every time he held up a terrible pumpkin like it was a prize catch, you shook your head at him, but your laughter echoed across the fields of the farm. And you couldn’t help but notice that Ransom seemed to be having fun, too, his own smile staying fixed on his handsome face as you both made your way through the pumpkin patch.

“What about this one?” Ransom called, from a little ways away, having wandered off in a different direction. “Now this is a pumpkin.”

You stood up from where you’d been bent over, looking at some moderately sized pumpkins to find Ransom standing beside a massive orange thing. It was almost as high as Ransom’s waist, tipped on its side, but as you looked harder, something about it seemed off.

First, it was clearly meant to be part of a display set up by the farm, since it stood in front of an artfully arranged stack of hay bales that were topped with smaller pumpkins. The rest of the field stretched out behind the setup, and you suspected it had been constructed in an attempt to give visitors to the farm a photo op, where families or groups of friends could pose for the perfect autumnal pictures. 

But as you walked closer to Ransom, and smoothed your hands over the large pumpkin, you realized something else was off about the gourd.

“Ran,” you started dryly, cutting your eyes to him, finding him admiring the pumpkin. “This isn’t a real pumpkin—it’s fake, for the photo op,” you said, waving your hand at the whole display.

Ransom seemed confused for a moment, then looked at the bales of hay arranged behind it as if he was seeing them for the first time. Since you were closer, you could see a little sign that had the name of the farm tacked into the hay, and had to give it to Johnson’s Family Farm—they seemed to know what they were doing.

“Figures the first pumpkin I actually like is fake,” Ransom muttered, turning to you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he curled his big body around yours. 

You bit your lip against a laugh and stroked your fingers through his soft brown hair. “Don’t worry, Ran, I’m sure we’ll find something you like.” 

His thick arms squeezed you tight and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto one another. It was a sweet moment—until Ransom’s hands began to wander down your back, stroking down your spine to the swell of your ass. But he didn’t stop there. His hands slid further down and under your skirt, groping your thighs shamelessly and kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

“Remind me again about the deal we made, nixie,” Ransom rumbled, his tone thick with lust as he used his big hands to pull you closer, his bulge pressing into your stomach. 

Your mind was swimming with desire, your body arched into the bigger form of your sugar daddy, but you managed to remember the words of the agreement you’d made—the one that had finally convinced Ransom it would be worth it to take you pumpkin picking.

“I have to do everything you say,” you recited the terms of your deal, your voice breathless with excitement. “And you can do anything you want with me.”

Ransom made a rumbling sound deep in his chest, the vibrations teasing your nipples through your sweater and sheer lingerie. Your breasts felt heavy, aching to be touched, but you kept your arms around Ransom’s broad shoulders, waiting to see what he’d do. 

“I think it’s time for you to pay up, baby,” Ransom murmured, walking you backward until your ass collided with the big, fake pumpkin. “I wanna take some pictures of my pretty sugar baby on the biggest pumpkin in the patch.” 

The plastic was cold against your bare thighs and you sucked in a gasp, your body tensing in Ransom’s grip.

He seemed to understand your plight, though, because he uncurled himself from around your body—after giving your ass a lingering squeeze. 

Straightening, Ransom’s eyes caught yours, his blue gaze sparkling with mischief and a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth as he shrugged out of his wool coat. He swung it around behind you, laying it down on the pumpkin before his hands fell to your hips.

“Need a boost?” he asked, his lips curving into a deviously handsome smirk as his hands settled on your hips.

Truthfully, you didn’t need the help. The pumpkin was only a little higher than your ass, and you could have easily hopped up onto it. But arousal was slinking through your body, making you feel heavy and achy and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have Ransom’s hands on you for a little longer.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you said sweetly, giving Ransom your most charming smile and enjoying the way his eyes darkened at the honorific. 

Ransom pressed close to you, his expensive cologne filling your senses as he pinned you against the pumpkin under the guise of helping you. But you could feel the hard, thick length in his slacks digging into your soft belly and you knew he was enjoying the excuse to hold you just as much as you were. 

Slowly, he eased you up onto the pumpkin, the wool of his coat scratchy against the back of your bare thighs, but much warmer and softer than the cold plastic of the decoration. 

When he settled you right where he wanted you, it took all your self-control not to spread your legs for Ransom. You bit your lip against a sultry smile and kept your legs closed, trying to look nice for the photos he was going to take.

Still, you couldn’t help but murmur a breathy, “Thank you, daddy,” that had your blood running even hotter through your veins. 

Ransom seemed just as affected as you, but he managed to hold himself together, dropping a quick kiss to your lips before rumbling, “Good girl, nixie.” 

Then he was stepping away, taking his warmth and delicious scent with him as he retreated a few paces and pulled out his phone. You arranged yourself in a pretty pose on the pumpkin, smiling for Ransom’s camera, and adjusting your legs or arms or the tilt of your head as he asked. 

You’d been a little worried that giving Ransom free reign to order you around would lead to him barking commands at you like you were a dog. But he’d taken your words about not liking being talked to like that to heart—no doubt helped by the reminder of his text going unanswered that morning—and he kept his voice warm and light as he guided you through the poses he wanted for the photos he was taking.

It was more fun than you expected. You’d never done any kind of photoshoot, and you found yourself enjoying Ransom’s gentle commands helping you pose for him. He took so many photos of you perched on that fake pumpkin, you began to wonder what he planned to do with them. 

But then his directions took a new turn, and you couldn’t help the smirk that curved your lips.

“Now spread your legs,” Ransom urged, bending down so he was crouched in the field, being careful not to let his pants touch the dirt. “Put your feet up—yeah, just like that.” Ransom’s eyes sparkled in the bright September sunshine as he watched you shift into the pose he wanted, his mouth pulled wide in a wolfish grin. “Let daddy see what’s under that pretty skirt of yours.”

Leaning back on your hands, you lifted your knees and spread them wide, balancing precariously on top of the big, fake pumpkin. Your skirt fell around your hips, baring your black silk panties for Ransom’s camera. Even a few paces away, you could hear his inhale of breath when he got his first glimpse of the thin slip of fabric barely covering your glistening slit. 

Excited thrills zipped through your body, more wetness gathering between your thighs as you watched Ransom’s blue eyes darken. Your pussy was so close to being on full display in broad daylight, and even though you knew the farm was deserted, the possibility of somehow being caught still made the tension in you crackle deliciously. 

But that was the fun of following Ransom’s orders—you’d known from the moment you offered it up for the deal that he would have you doing something naughty. You just hoped, as your core ached to be filled, that your sugar daddy would end the teasing soon and fuck you over the pumpkin he had you sitting on.

“Rub your pussy, baby,” Ransom rumbled, his voice pitching lower. “Let me see you make a mess of your pretty panties—all for me.”

His tone was drenched in a desire that made you even wetter, your body responding to his voice alone. You were so gone for him, you didn’t even care that no other man had ever made you wet just from his voice. You just wanted him to keep talking—keep ordering you to do more filthy things. 

Putting all your weight on one hand, you slipped the other between your thighs, using two fingers to rub your clit through your black silk panties. You suspected they were expensive, just like all the lingerie Ransom had gifted you, but you didn’t think about how much they cost. You only stared into Ransom’s camera and let your eyes go heavy-lidded, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as pleasure pulsed through your body.

“Good girl, nixie,” Ransom purred, shifting closer but staying down on his haunches. Soft clicks of a camera shudder came from his phone as he took photo after photo, capturing the way your fingers dipped down to your slit and pushed your panties ever so slightly into your dripping hole. “Fuck—yeah, just like that, rub that pretty pussy like a good little slut for daddy.”

A whimper slipped from your lips and a shudder wracked your whole body at the pleasure that suffused your entire being. Your fingers teased your wet slit while Ransom watched, his phone camera trained on you while he took photos of your lewd actions. It was headier than you would’ve expected, your thoughts scattering as your hips rocked gently, pressing your cunt against your fingers instinctively.

“Daddy, ‘m so empty,” you wailed softly, pushing your fingers into your pussy through your panties, whining desperately when they couldn’t go deep enough. The black satin was soaked in your juices, feeling good as it slipped against your wet lower lips, but you hated it in that moment because it was the only thing stopping you from being filled. “P-please, daddy!”

One of Ransom’s hands dropped from his phone to palm his dick through his pants, and you whimpered louder with a wordless plea. You opened your eyes wider and pouted your lips, imploring him to put you out of your misery—either by giving you another order, or by sinking his fat cock into your aching pussy.

Ransom’s features darkened with desire, his handsome face twisting into an expression that was almost a scowl as he rose from his crouch to tower over where you were perched. Your own expression lightened and turned hopeful, sure he was going to tuck his phone away and fill you up, but instead, he chuckled darkly. 

Skimming his free hand down your inner thigh, he groped you briefly, your skin tingling everywhere he touched. But then he ignored your pussy entirely and instead tugged on the hem of your sweater.

“Pull up your shirt, nixie, show me your slutty body,” Ransom rasped, his voice hoarse with his own need while he palmed his dick again, keeping his phone camera trained on you.

You whined and squirmed pathetically at the quick tease of his touch, but followed his order all the same. You tugged the hem of your sweater up, catching it between your teeth to keep it from falling down again before you went back to rubbing your pussy. 

You knew how you must’ve looked—your legs spread wide, your shirt pulled up to show off both parts of your black silk matching set and your hand pressed between your thighs, rubbing your pussy shamelessly. You must’ve looked like a perfect little whore for Ransom, and by the way his eyes sparkled and his mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, he loved it.

“Good girl, nixie,” he murmured, soft clicks of the camera shutter coming from his phone as he took even more photos while he stood over you. “You’re such a good little slut for me, baby, such a perfectly obedient girl.” His eyes flicked from his phone screen to your eyes. “Doesn’t it feel good to do everything daddy tells you?” 

With the soft cotton of your sweater in your mouth, you couldn’t speak, so you nodded, holding Ransom’s gaze as you did so. You wanted him to see it was the truth—it did feel good to do what he told you. Because you trusted him. You knew he’d never tell you to do anything that might hurt you. 

Something shifted in Ransom’s eyes as he read your expression—something that looked a lot like surprise melting into a profound awareness that seemed to frighten him. As you watched, his eyes hardened just a little bit, the hand holding his phone dropping out of the way as he stared at you intensely.

“Are you sure you can handle it, sugar baby, doing everything I tell you?” he asked, a harshness in his tone that spoke to an underlying animosity you knew wasn’t truly directed at you. 

You realized all of a sudden that you’d tipped your hand. You’d shown Ransom you trusted him, and, in the process, shown him that your feelings for him were deeper than they should be between a sugar baby their sugar daddy. His question was a challenge, and an offering of an escape at the same time. 

But, for all that you’d avoided showing Ransom how you truly felt about him, you simply couldn’t run away from him. If you’d been able to do that, you would’ve parted ways with your sugar daddy already. 

So you held Ransom’s glinting blue gaze and nodded resolutely. His expression hardened further. 

“Spank your pussy,” Ransom growled, his voice sounding as rough as the gravel in the farm’s parking lot. “Show me what a dirty little slut you are and slap your cunt as hard as you can.” 

Your whole body quivered with anticipation as you drew back your hand from your wet, puffy pussy. Your silk panties were soaking wet, and you knew the flimsy fabric wouldn’t protect your sensitive slit from the sting of the spank, but Ransom gave you an order, and you intended to follow it—to show him how much you trusted him, and cared for him.

Using the flat of your fingers, you slapped your cunt as Ransom instructed, as hard as you could manage. Electrifying pain streaked through your body, making you cry out and arch violently on the pumpkin you were perched on, your other hand gripping tightly to Ransom’s wool coat to keep you balanced. A deep, blazing pleasure nipped at the sensation’s heels and your cry devolved quickly into a debauched moan that was muffled by the sweater in your mouth. 

It took you a moment to force your gaze back to Ransom, his eyes swirling with so many emotions, you didn’t have a hope of discerning them. But he held his phone up again, no doubt framing you within the screen and said in a gruff voice, “Again.”

That time, since you were expecting it, it was easier to brace for the sting of pain and the burning pleasure that swept the smarting tingle away. But your body still responded, your spine curving and your legs shaking wildly, your lips falling open in another muted moan as your teeth clung to the sweater so it didn’t slip free from your mouth. 

Ransom’s camera captured the whole thing—you knew because he watched the screen instead of you, his mouth twisting into a depraved smirk.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Ransom rumbled, some of the warmth you typically heard in your sugar daddy’s voice seeping back into his words. He must’ve heard it, too, because his next words were harsher. “Does it feel good to spank your pussy like the dirty little slut she is?

“Uh huh,” you mumbled around the sweater in your mouth. You tried to tell him it felt good, but the words came out entirely garbled, though Ransom seemed to understand. 

“Are you gonna come from slapping your naughty cunt?” he asked, his eyes darkening with hungry intent as he watched your face, waiting for your response.

Your pussy pulsed at his filthy question, and you thought maybe it was possible to come from spanking your puffy slit, especially if your fingers caught your clit with each slap. But truthfully, you didn’t know—you’d never tried. So you answered Ransom honestly, muttering, “Ionno,” around the sweater in your mouth.

Ransom huffed an impatient sound and reached for you to tug the sweater free from your teeth, his actions gentle even despite his obvious annoyance. “Say that again.”

“I-I don’t know,” you whispered. “I can try.”

The expression on Ransom’s face shifted again, but it became even more unreadable. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he was searching for something, though you didn’t know what. 

“You want to try?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You acted instinctively, pushing yourself up so you were no longer balancing on your hand and reaching past Ransom’s phone to grab his sweater to pull him down for a kiss. Your lips moved sweetly against his for a moment, before you pulled back and stared deeply into his eyes. 

“I want to do everything you tell me to do,” you said, reciting the words of the deal you’d struck with Ransom, but changing them just a little, to tell him again that you wanted him, you trusted him. “I want you to do anything you want with me.” 

A look of something almost like fury flitted across Ransom’s face, and then he was surging forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, as if he meant to brand you with his mouth. You moaned into him, which only seemed to make him kiss you harder, his tongue pushing past your lips to sweep into you as if he owned you. 

In that moment, if he’d asked, you would have told him he did.

Just as suddenly as he’d kissed you, Ransom pulled away and he shoved his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks. Then, before you’d even recovered from his kiss, he grabbed your hips and spun you to the side, guiding your shoulders down so you were laying draped sideways across the big pumpkin. 

“Panties off,” he growled, his voice a low rumbling contrast to the sharp clinking of his belt buckle as he undid his pants. “Give ‘em to me.” 

You were quick to follow his orders, hooking your fingers in the black silk panties and shoving them down your legs, pulling them off and then handing them to Ransom. You watched your sugar daddy hold them up to his face and take a deep breath, inhaling your scent as his other hand dove into his boxer briefs. 

Because your head was hanging over the side of the fake pumpkin beneath your back, you had a front row seat to Ransom’s big hand stroking his hard length, your mouth watering with the desire to taste him on your tongue. A whine slipped from your lips and you squirmed, getting Ransom’s attention.

He chuckled darkly, tucking your panties into the pocket of his slacks that didn’t hold his phone and then shoved them and his boxer briefs down. His thick, fat cock fell on your face, making you flinch in surprise at the slight slap of it against your skin. But in the next breath, you were tilting your face up and kissing him affectionately, murmuring in contentment when his musky taste hit your tongue. 

“Such a perfect little slut, baby,” Ransom rasped, his praise drenched in that warm tone that had your heart beating happily in your chest. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and slapped it gently on your smiling lips. “Open your mouth and spread your legs.” 

Immediately, you did as Ransom said, parting your thighs and opening your mouth wide, then waiting for what came next. You weren’t surprised when Ransom didn’t waste any time before pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.  

He let out a low, filthy groan as he thrust deep in your mouth, pressing into your throat until you could feel him bulging in the front of your neck. He held there, his balls nestled against your nose while you swallowed around him, trying to get used to the intrusion while he groaned obscenely at how good you felt. 

“Fuck yeah, baby, take daddy’s cock in your pretty little throat,” he rumbled, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat and pressing down lightly, grunting when he felt himself twitching inside you. “You’re such a perfect little slut, ’s like you were made for me—all for me.” 

You moaned around Ransom’s cock, hoping he took the sound for the agreement it was as you lay beneath him, your hips squirming and your pussy fluttering in the cool September air. Your wiggling seemed to get Ransom’s attention and he leaned over you, his big hand sliding between your thighs to rub your already messy pussy.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmured, his voice sounding like sunshine with the affection clear in his tone. “You still wanna see if you can come from getting your pussy spanked?” he asked, a smirk in his words. 

You nodded as best you could, your hips squirming and bucking, practically begging for him without using a single word—not that you could utter any with his cock buried so deeply in your throat. 

His fingers slid teasingly against your clit and you bucked harder, grinding against him as best you could. 

Your antics made Ransom laugh quietly as he muttered, “Alright, baby,” in a placating voice. 

That was the only warning you got—that and his hand disappearing from your pussy. Ransom’s big hand came down on your pussy sharply, the flat of his fingers spanking your pussy much harder than you. Still, you could feel he was holding back from using all his strength, only giving it to you as hard as he knew you could take.

And take it you did. 

A muffled scream clawed its way up your throat and slipped past your lips to be muffled against Ransom’s balls as white-hot pain flooded your body, followed closely by the all-consuming burn of pleasure. A tremor shook your limbs and you choked on Ransom’s cock, your throat squeezing him tight enough to wring a grunt from him. 

“Fuck—did that feel good, baby?” he rumbled, his fingers dipping into your hole and rubbing your juices all over your pussy, paying special attention to your clit. “Do you like it when daddy spanks your slutty pussy? Because you’re squeezing my cock like you want me to do it again.” 

His voice was drenched in warmth and humor and you whined in response as you planted your feet on the curve of the fake pumpkin and bucked your hips up against his hand, pleasure coiling tight in your core. You knew it was only a matter of a few more smacks from Ransom’s hand before that coil was snapping and you were going to come from him spanking your pussy. 

“That sounds like a yes, but I wanna feel you nod, baby,” Ransom murmured, his other hand petting your cheek softly. 

You couldn’t see him from the angle you were at, but you could hear the smile in his tone and you melted a little, your legs falling open wider as you nodded for him. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers stroking over the bulge in your throat while his others rubbled your clit, making your tight channel squeeze his cock tighter. “And what do you do if it’s too much? Show daddy,” he urged as his fingers trailed lower, until they dipped into your black satin bra and swirled around your nipples until they were stiff peaks. 

Meanwhile, you reached back and patted the outside of Ransom’s thigh three times, the sign you’d established with him early on in your relationship for when you needed a break but didn’t have the capacity to use words. 

“Good, you’re such a good girl,” he purred. His hand kept sliding lower down your body until he reached your thighs. He grabbed your soft flesh and pushed your legs open even wider. “Now, let’s see if we can make your pretty pussy come just from being spanked while I fuck your slutty mouth.” 

You barely had a chance to moan your agreement before Ransom’s hand came down on your cunt again, the sharp, slick sound of his fingers slapping your wet flesh meeting your ears before the stinging pain and scorching pleasure sent your thoughts skittering away. 

He rubbed your clit roughly and moved his hips, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, grunting and groaning at the feel of your moans vibrating through him and your throat squeezing him every time he slapped your pussy. 

Ransom fell into a rhythm, spanking your pussy as hard as he thought you could handle, his fingers catching your clit every time, and fucking your throat while you lay draped over the big, fake pumpkin in that deserted pumpkin patch. 

You were at the mercy of Ransom, and he seemed to know it just as much as you did—and he didn’t take it for granted. His hands were purposeful with every touch, every spank, his hips never pushing too hard against your head as he fucked your mouth. It was filthy and dirty and yet you could feel the depth of his caring in everything he did to you.

It wasn’t long before you were pushed to the precipice of your release, your body trembling uncontrollably, the coil in your core wound so tight, you knew it would snap any second. 

Ransom must’ve felt it too, because he started up a constant refrain of, “Good girl, baby, come for me—come for daddy, baby. You’re doing so good, wanna watch your pretty pussy come, baby, c’mon, lemme see.” His words were so sweet and warm and wicked, you were unable to do anything but follow his gentle command. 

On the next slap to your cunt, the coil of pleasure in your belly snapped, and your entire body went tight with white-hot tension before it burst free into decimating waves of pleasure. Ransom’s cock muffled your scream as you came, your hips bucking and pussy convulsing beneath his warm palm as you rubbed your soaking wet slit against him. 

You were so consumed by your release, you didn’t notice the way Ransom had frozen, and you barely felt him pulling his cock free from your mouth. You only knew that suddenly you were able to pull in deep breaths and smell the crisp scent of the pumpkin patch. 

Your head spun when Ransom gently pushed you to sit up and hauled you off the pumpkin, your feet hitting the soft soil of the field and your knees nearly buckling as your body still shivered from the waves of pleasure rolling through you. 

Ransom sat heavily on his wool coat still draped haphazardly over the top of the pumpkin, his hands greedily grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap. Your knees bracketed his thighs while his hands grabbed your ass and guided you to sit up. Then you felt the tip of his cock slide against your still fluttering hole and you moaned, your head dropping back like you didn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore.

“Can’t fucking believe you came from getting your pussy spanked, baby,” Ransom was mumbling, his big hands changing the angle of your hips until the head of his cock was pressed to your entrance. “Gotta feel it, gotta…” He cut off on a grunt when he pushed into your slick, pulsing pussy, his hands shifting to your hips so he could pull you down onto his hard, throbbing length.

Your hands found Ransom’s biceps and you held onto him, your fingers tangling in the thick weave of his cable knit sweater as you quickly sank down on his cock. He was so thick and long, it stung a little to impale yourself so fast without any kind of preparation, but you didn’t care. You were too greedy for his cock to take your time, a deep, primal instinct driving you to take him as fast as you could while your mind was still reeling from your first release. 

“Oh fu-uck,” Ransom groaned brokenly, his head falling against your chest. You could feel his face pressing into your sternum, his heavy exhale ghosting between the swells of your breasts. It was against your bare skin, your heart racing just beneath the surface, that Ransom confessed, “I love you, nixie.” 

At his words, you went deathly still. For an unending moment, your mind reeled and you tried to be certain you’d heard Ransom correctly. You were sure you couldn’t have.

It didn’t seem like he realized what he’d said until he felt you stiffen in his lap. Then, Ransom sat up slowly, his gaze sharp as it raked over your face, trying to gauge your reaction. 

Licking your lips to bide you time to find your voice, you forced yourself to ask the question your heart needed an answer to. 

“Do you mean it?”

Ransom’s expression tightened, his eyes going even more wary, but he nodded—a quick, dip of his chin—and you sucked in a breath.

A tingling warmth started at the top of your head and cascaded through your body, filling you with a bright, fizzling feeling. It took a moment for you to recognize it was happiness. But not just happiness—it was pure, unfiltered joy. 

Your sugar daddy loved you. Ransom Drysdale loved you. 

His expression was growing more and more distant with every second that passed without you responding and you couldn’t have that. 

Squealing in delight, you launched yourself at him—not that it was such a far distance, considering you were in his lap—and he let out a soft, “oof,” when you collided with his chest, your arms winding around his neck and squeezing him tight.

“I love you, too, Ran,” you confessed on an exhale. It felt so good to get the words off your chest, that you repeated them. “I love you.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ransom said on a sigh of relief as he gathered you tighter against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back while the other braced against your spine so his hand could cup the back of your neck. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, nixie.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t love you back?” you asked softly before pressing a kiss to Ransom’s soft cheek because you couldn’t help yourself. The scent of his cologne filled your senses and you smiled against his jaw, kissing him again and again, like you’d never get enough of it. 

“Wasn’t sure,” he admitted gruffly. 

You giggled at the sheepishness in his tone, pulling back until you could see his face. He was blushing a little, a tiny bit of pink tinging his cheeks and making him look adorable. You couldn’t help yourself from cupping his handsome face in your hands and leaning forward to brush a sweet kiss to his mouth. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmured, in between teasing kisses. “I love you when you’re grumbling about going pumpkin picking, and I love you when you’re spanking my pussy, and I love you when you’re bringing me my favorite coffee because you remembered what I liked.” 

You kept kissing him until Ransom was chuckling, his hand squeezing the back of your neck in an affectionate gesture. He reeled you in for a deeper kiss, cutting off your list of all the times you’d loved him. But you and Ransom were smiling too much to kiss properly, your teeth knocking against each other and making you both laugh even more. 

Your joyful laughter soon devolved into soft moans and grunts when Ransom rocked his hips, shifting his cock even deeper inside you. Your fingers threaded through his soft brown hair and you clung to him while you rolled your hips, grinding down on his stiff length until you were breathless with renewed desire.

“Fuck, nixie—nixie, ‘m not gonna last much longer,” Ransom groaned, his arms tightening around your back and holding you pinned against his chest while he fucked up into you. “Your pussy’s too perfect—too fucking warm and tight and good for me.” 

“Come inside me, Ran,” you whispered heatedly, feeling his cock twitch at your suggestion. You moaned softly in his ear. Your clit was grinding against the base of Ransom’s cock, and it wouldn’t be long before you came for a second time. “Please, daddy, fill me up—wanna feel your come leaking from my pussy while we’re picking pumpkins, daddy, please,” you begged in a pathetic whine.

“I love you—fuck, I love you so fucking much, nixie,” Ransom growled, pressing his face to your cheek and nudging you to the side until his mouth found yours. He kissed you so long and so deeply, it made your head spin, and he fucked you all the while, pounding into your cunt hard enough that the pleasure he gave you was edged with just enough delicious pain that you were falling off the edge and coming in no time.

Ransom swallowed your screams of pleasure as you came, your pussy clenching his cock hard enough that he followed right after, grunting into your mouth so that it was your turn to muffle his sounds with your lips. 

Coming at the same time was heady and all-consuming and you were so happy you felt like you could float away if it wasn’t for Ransom’s arms holding you so tightly to his chest. And you were glad for it, because you didn’t want to float away unless he came with you.

The two of you gradually eased down from your highs together, still kissing, still murmuring your love for one another as if you could pass the words between your lips as easily as you exchanged breaths.

Finally, your rocking bodies gently stilled and your racing hearts returned to steady, normal drumbeats. The September sun was bright, keeping you warm from the chill in the air as you snuggled into your sugar daddy—the man that you loved, and who loved you in return.

Your head was still spinning and trying to process everything you’d both admitted while laying against Ransom’s chest, your fingers playing idly with a loose thread in his sweater, when he finally broke the comfortable silence that had fallen.

“If we carve up some of these pumpkins, do I really have to clean out all the guts with my bare hands?”

His question, and the almost whining tone in his voice, had you choking on a surprised laugh. You leaned back, looking into Ransom’s face to see if he was joking, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was giving the pumpkin patch another dubious look, making you laugh again as you shook your head at him.

“No, you could wear gloves, and there’s usually a scoop that comes in the pumpkin carving kits at the store,” you explained to him, your tone filled with humor even as you kept it even and patient. “You don’t have to touch the pumpkin guts if you don’t want to.”

Your fingers stroked through the hair at the nape of his neck and he seemed to relax, though whether it was from your assurance or your touch, you couldn’t tell. You suspected it was both.

After a moment, Ransom seemed to reach some sort of decision because he heaved a deep sigh and met your gaze. His blue eyes were shimmering in the bright afternoon sunlight, and the affection in his gaze warmed you despite the chill in the air. 

“Alright, let’s find some pumpkins worth carving,” he said, though his grim tone made it sound like he was suggesting you both walk into battle. 

A smile spread across your face and you giggled happily. “You mean it?”

“Of course, nixie,” Ransom rumbled, leaning in and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “There’s very little I wouldn’t do to make you happy—I thought that was clear when I agreed to an afternoon of pumpkin picking.” 

You laughed softly, ghosting your lips over his in a teasing gesture as your heart fluttered in your chest, happiness swooping through your belly. But still, his words didn’t exactly match up to your memory of events, especially given everything you’d done to get him to agree to the date—including the deal you’d made.

“Silly me, and here I thought it was because of the deal we made,” you murmured. 

“Mm, nope,” Ransom said, popping the ‘p’ in nope. “Woulda taken you pumpkin picking even without the deal—just liked watching you convince me.” He brushed feather-light kisses along your jaw, making you hum happily at the soft press of his lips after you snorted at his comment. “But now that you mention it, our arrangement extends to the pumpkin carving portion of this date, yeah?” 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, having a hard time following the conversation when he sucked gently on the spot just beneath your ear that had your head falling to the side to give him better access. You shook your head lightly and found the words to form a proper response. “Sure, it lasts as long as the date does.”

You felt Ransom’s mouth curve as he smirked against the side of your neck. “Good,” he purred, kissing down your throat until he got to the line of your sweater. “Gonna make you suck my cock while I clean out our pumpkins.”

Buzzy excitement and warm desie flooded through you at his words and it was your turn to smile. You remembered that you’d considered offering to blow him to get him to carve pumpkins just that morning, so you obviously had nothing against his suggestion. You were eager for it to become a reality.

“Whatever you say, daddy,” you murmured in your sweetest voice. 

Ransom huffed an amused laugh before his mouth found yours again. 

The two of you kissed for a little while longer, until your knees and hips started to protest sitting in the same position on that big, fake pumpkin for so long. Ransom helped you down from his lap and towed you back toward the farm stand, so you could clean up in the nice employee bathroom—though he refused to give you your panties back.

You spent the rest of the early afternoon picking out pumpkins with Ransom, then he carried them back to his BMW and put them in the trunk. While he drove you both back to the city, he gave you his phone and told you to pick out your favorite of the photos he’d taken of you. 

You asked him if he only wanted you to pick from the lewd photos, and he told you to also pick one of the pictures he’d taken of you with your clothes covering you. When you asked him what it was for, he told you he wanted to frame it and put it on his desk in his office. Your heart fluttered when he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, admitting he missed you while he was at work.

If you hadn’t already known you were in love with him, you would’ve known then, your heart squeezing in happiness while your fingers tightened around his. Since you didn’t have to hold back your emotions anymore, you told him how much you loved him, and he responded by repeating the words and kissing your hand again.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at your townhouse apartment in Beacon Hill, cleaning out and carving the pumpkins you’d picked before putting candles in them and setting them on the steps outside your front door. Before the date was over, you even got Ransom Drysdale—your sugar daddy and the man that you loved—to admit he had fun. 

Of course, you had to promise you’d never tell anyone. But you assured him you could keep it secret, so long as he loved you. He grinned, and promised you he always would, then he sealed the deal with a kiss. 

And that was how an afternoon of pumpkin picking turned into a beautiful life together.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡♡♡

[whatawaitsus]

It's your final year at Killian Argent's School for the Supernatural; a prestigious boarding school for supernatural beings. In theory this doesn't mean much. Your future has been set since you were a child: graduate from a prestigious boarding school, get into an equally prestigious college that your parents will pay for, and then get a prestigious well-paying job with your father's connections. It is what is, you're past the point of complaining at this point in your life.

Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework.

That is until students start to go missing.

Oh, and you start having prophetic dreams of your missing brother. But, that's probably better to unpack later, in all honesty.

What Awaits Us is upcoming choicescript interactive fiction project. The game is rated 16+ for violence, manipulation, kidnapping, strong language, drug use, religious imagery and trauma and optional suggestive content.

Choose what kind of witch you are; customize your gender, pronouns, sexuality, physical appearance, personality, magic class, uniform style, dorm decor, familiar, and more.

Balance trying to solve the disappearances of your peers and your performance as a student.

Establish your relationships with your parents and older brother by playing through flashbacks.

Deicide on your class schedule and extracurricular activity that will have the ability to affect your stats.

Choose one out of five romantic options; a moody kitsune, an expressive siren, a bubbly godling, or a quiet godling, or an apathetic arachne.

Solve the mystery of the missing kids and potentially get a lead on your runaway brother.

Unwillingly gain a weird almost mentor figure in the form of one of your teachers.

Rei Nakamura [they/them, kitsune]: C's roommate. Rei has been at this school as long as you, though your interactions are next to none. You always spot their name at the top of all the classes you share. They generally keep to themselves, only interacting with C and the kids they tutor. When they do talk it's usually an insult or a refusal to do something. It's not a surprise that they're generally disliked by most of the school. How they happened to befriend an outgoing siren is beyond you.

Cleo/Cyrus Valtameri [gender selectable, siren]: Rei's roommate. C is.. a lot. They transferred during your ninth term; originally from Drialia, which is clear from their accent. They joined the theater club nearly as soon as they were enrolled and have landed nearly every lead since then. The two of you don't interact much, but when you do happen to cross paths they're always animatedly nice to you; they're like that to everyone except Rei, really. You almost swear you've seen the two of them point at you and laugh.

Lydia Taylor* [she/her, godling]: Lukas's twin sister. You've been partnered up with Lydia a few times for projects and she's always a diligent student. She's in the boxing club, which is honestly kind of intimidating, especially after what happened between her and Stephan Kim in your sixth term. But, she's always been plenty nice to you too, not fake nice like you've realized most of your classmates are. She and her brother are never apart from eachother, either.

Lukas Taylor [he/him, godling]: Lydia's twin brother. Lukas Taylor has been going through an 'emo phase' about as long as you've known him. You vaguely remember the mop of strawberry blond hair that was on his head when he first came here, though you have a suspicion he bribed a mage to wipe it from the yearbooks. Lukas is quiet; the polar opposite of his sister. You don't think he's in any clubs, though he is always carrying around a weathered sketchbook.

Nico/Nadia Ruiz-Estrada [gender selectable, arachne]: Your roommate. N and you have shared a dorm for the past five years, and they're possibly your best friend. Despite constantly skipping all of their classes, barring the ones the two of you share, their grades remain high. Even after knowing them for six years you still don't know if they care about anything besides displeasing their older sister. They started a band in your ninth year; Bite The Bullet. Half of the kids in your term are convinced they were formerly in prison, something that makes N laugh hysterically whenever you bring it up.

Polyamorous routes available with Rei & Cleo/Cyrus and Lukas & Nico/Nadia.

*Lydia is only romancable by female and nonbinary MC's.*

[nixie-deangel]

Well now I can't get Jake crocheting out of my head, Red AND him crocheting a gift for Bradley! Which wasn't what I was even thinking about XD!

I'm thinking Jake learned when he was little (5-7) from his grandma and while he didn't enjoy it at first, eventually fell in love with it and kept it up till high school and then he got sort of serious about his academics and sports to ensure he could put his best application for the Naval Academy, so it sort of fell to the way side and he just stopped doing it for more than a decade.

Doesn't really pick it up again until after The Mission and he needs something to do with his hands, to keep them moving, to quiet his mind, to not constantly thinking about how he almost truly lost Bradley forever. And it's during a talk with his mama that he even thinks about getting a hook and some yarn and starting up again, but he does. Goes out to a 24 hour Walmart and grabs the first skein his hand lands on and the correct hook size for it and spends the next few days attending meetings and debriefs during the day and the nights getting all pissed and angry because it's not coming back to him until it does (after maybe a few tutorials on YouTube because he doesn't remember the basics of his old favorite hobby at all!) and he starts making this again. Mostly he takes it apart when he finishes, so he can just keep reusing the same yarn, over and over again. Which is helpful as he relearns.

But then he and Bradley finally talk it out and get back together and then the Dagger Squad is made a permanent squadron and are stationed in San Diego but need to finish out their current assignments.

And it's while they're finishing that up that Jake gets the idea to make Bradley something, a blanket because it's a huge commitment to undertake, but he's determined to do it, to finish it in the months he's got because he wants to show Bradley he's serious about him. Serious about them.

(it works. for their one year anniversary Bradley has knitted them a blanket with the question, 'will you marry me?' on it.

spoilers, Jake says yes!)

I need to stop getting ideas while I'm cooking dinner 😔😭😭😔

[kyokittymeow]

Time Twins Headcanon's!

⏳Krux:

•65 y/o

•Autistic

• Suffers from depression, panic attacks and nightmares since Acronix was gone

•Needs to take medications against it

•Early bird, is up at the crack of dawn

•Rambles about history a LOT (to the point where even Acronix gets annoyed)

•Grumpy old man, but can actually be silly too. Mostly around Acronix

•Overprotective big brother! 💪

•Surprisingly has many nicknames for Acronix

Nix, (sometimes even Nixie, when he's teasing him, or being extra sweet with him) Little Bro,

Kid, Boy (Acronix hates those lmao)

•He looks ten years younger than he actually is

•Despite hating technology, he has one of those old ass tv's and loves to watch horror movie's and crime series.

•Loves tea (herbal tea, green tea)

•When he's in a bad mood (misako rejected him again), he steals Acronix's sweets and snacks and eats all of them lol (Acronix is pissed)

📱Acronix:

•25 y/o

•ADHD

•Suffers from panic attacks as well, since he came out of the time vortex (it's not that bad as Krux's tho)

•Looks like a cinnamon roll, but can actually kill you

•Kills anything that could harm him or his bro

•Calls Krux old man to annoy him

•Loves to wear hoodies

•NOT an early bird, goes to sleep way to late and sleeps way too long

•Very proud of his beautiful long hair (don't cut it!)

•Loves to watch splatter movies and horror in general. He hates romance and those old movies in black and white that Krux watches

•Had an emo phase at age 15-17 💀

•Cuddly boy. Loves hugging (especially his bro! :D) But if someone touches him he doesn't like, he will bite

•Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he sneaks into Krux's bed at night for cuddles (Krux acts like he hates it)

•Loves to get praised by Krux or getting headpats

⏳📱Both:

•They're both bi lol

•They used to be the same height, but since Krux is shrinking due to his age, Nix is taller than him a few centimeters (but it's not noticeable)

•Acronix loves to sing, but sounds horrible. Unlike Krux who doesn't like to sing, but he would hit every note perfectly 🤌

•They tease each other a lot

•If you talk shit about one of them, the other won't hesitate to beat the shit outta you. (Acronix especially)

•Stick together almost all the time

•They love and care for each other so much 🫶 #bestbros (CANON🗣️)

---------

Part 2 | Part 3

[michellymy]

Tsuru

“Rest”.

Being Maivtre is too exhausting (the Lewies are always demanding things and the Dawies want to do some unethical experiments). Being Maivtre under Sylris' control is a thousand times more exhausting.

So Kenyan takes breaks on Nixies’ territory. The air there is better, her wounds are healed and the Nixies love having someone to talk to. But Kenyan has this self-destructive tendency and her concept of “resting” is a bit odd.

Well, you can see in her gaze that she’s not in her sober mind—that grass on her mouth has some effects. And Auvies aren’t supposed to be under the Sun, it burns their skin and eyes. Also, having moving things over their skin is overwhelming, and the Nixies gossip a lot (they talk by touch). To finish, she’s heating herself with her powers since she left the castle—she needed it before, but now she’s in the Sun, warming her body much more than she should.

Anyway, ain’t her eyes beautiful? 🥰 The Nixies are so cute, don’t you think so? 🥰

[mossy-doodles85]

Ah yes, my silly little Kirby AU.

Wait did I ever talk about it? I don't think so. . .

Alright, the basics of the AU is that Kirby has an adoptive mother, a driblee named Nixie {she was technically named something else but I forgot what after so long, I think it started with an R} and that the poison ability was a purple mushroom with teal spots and a spot that looked like a heart on Kirby's head instead. Kirby used this copy ability a lot.

This AU was every small and simple, I didn't really plan on doing much with it. Cut to present day, I am slamming this AU down with basically no context and have to explain it to you all.

[mahouowo]

Mermaids in Dutch folklore

The Netherlands is a country that co-exists with water, but it wasn't always that way. A lot of our cities & villages have been lost due to floods (like Saeftinghe) before we had proper dikes and Neeltje Jans. Some of the areas affected by these floods have become wetlands and others have ruins standing where the village used to be.

So, what do mermaids have to do with this? In Dutch folklore a lot of these floods are either caused by greedy villagers or by fishermen catching a mermaid and refusing to let her free. They talk about pavement being laid with bricks of gold and hooves from horses being of silver with villagers wearing clothes made out of the best fabric around. Sadly, because their villages and cities were always so pristine they did everything in their power to cast out beggars and travellers. When there was no mermaid involved the story would describe the flood as a consequence of their greediness. However, with every story that does involve a mermaid being caught by a fisherman, the place they come from tends to be the same. Golden pavement, silver hooves, etc. A merman, being the mermaid's husband, would come above water and warn them of the upcoming floods if they didn't set his wife free.

'Westenschouwen, ’t zal u rouwen dat ge heeft geroofd mijn vrouwe, Westenschouwen zal vergaan alleen de toren zal blijven staan’

'Westenschouwen, you shall grieve That you stole my wife away from me, Westenschouwen shall fall Only its tower shall stand tall'

In this example the merman curses the village by putting seaweed & sand in the gullies of the city after the people mercilessly killed his wife by putting her up for display. After he leaves, storms flood the place with one single tower standing.

Even in Dutch folklore mermaids were seen as such beautiful creatures that fishermen couldn't help but take them home. They weren't the only ones, however! We also have the Nixie, who in some stories was said to be a beautiful woman who would jump out of the water to sit behind you on the carriage. When you reached the end of the body of water she would jump back in, never to be seen again.

The Mermaid of Edam

Around the 1400s there was a mermaid sighting close to Edam. A mermaid was stuck behind the wrong side of the dike because of a heavy storm. After the storm, the hole was fixed so she had no way to go back to the sea. People described her as drifting between the edges of the lake asleep, unless she dove to the bottom of the lake to eat. She was beautiful and her body was adorned with moss and seaweed. There would often be women sailing on the lake to milk the cows on the other side who were shocked to find her. However, after some time they got the courage to approach her and pulled her out of the lake.

The Mermaid didn't speak their language nor did they understand her, so they did what any rational person in the 1400s The Netherlands would do - strip her of all her moss to put clothes on her. They fed her and she ate our type of food, but she always longed to go back to the water, so they guarded her. She became quite the tourist attraction and because a lot of Haarlemmers wanted to have her for their city, the people of Edam gave her as a gift to them in the end. She learned how to spin wool and lived a very long life. When she died they buried her in the graveyard of the church because she made a lot of crosses in her lifetime (which could also mean she became Christian). In 2014 they rebuilt a statue in Haarlem to remember her.

The Mermaid & The Mother

Once upon a time in the province of Limburg near a big castle a servant took two children out to the beach. He met someone and spoke with them while the children continued playing on the beach ahead, but when he was done they were nowhere to be found. He searched all day and returned to the castle with only their socks. Everyone helped searching for the children, but it was to no avail - they were gone. After a lot of grieving the lady of the house took a stroll on the same beach and to her amazement saw a beautiful mermaid singing in the sea. The mermaid asked her why she was so sad and the lady relayed the story of her missing children to her. "Oh! Don't worry." She replied. "They are safe and happy in my castle."

The mother pleaded with the mermaid to see her children or to bring them back but the mermaid refused. She didn't give up however because everyday she went back to the same beach to plead with her again and again. There came a day the mermaid was sick of it and dragged the mother into the water to take her to her castle. The castle was made out of crystal and on every corner you could imagine was a little light to illuminate the darkness of the ocean. She brought the mother to a room with a glass window and to her surprise she saw tens of children playing together; including her own. Sadly, she was only allowed to look through the window and pleaded with the mermaid again. "You can't go inside, but I'll allow you to live here and look through the glass window everyday."

Many moons passed and everyday the mother would stand outside the window looking at how her children were happily playing with the others. However, she didn't give up and by pleading as much as she did back then the mermaid struck her a deal. She could take her children back home if she would make the mermaid a cloak of her own hair. The mother was handed a pot of fat to grow it out and started to get to work. The first time she finished the mermaid was not impressed and demanded that she do it again. When the mother came back a second time the mermaid was happy and called for a crystal carriage pulled by other mermaids to take her family home.

Conclusion

Mermaids in Dutch folklore, although beautiful, are often related to misfortune, curses & floods. Their symbolism and stories seem parallel to the peoples’ struggle with the sea. Our relationship with her is a complicated one as she both destroyed our towns and livelihoods all the while giving us plenty of abundance over the centuries. On the other hand, it also highlights how we treat and have treated the nature around us. Nowadays we put great emphasis on co-existing with water and try to educate on the importance of our delta works. We can not tame the sea, but we can work together to make it liveable for both of us.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Books of reference:

The Sagen boeken written by JRW Sinninghe (Dutch only)

[devastator1775]

Nix comes out with the truth (Murder Drones Nix Doorman AU)

Summary: Nix had it all planned. She'd go to her parents, sit them down and tell them. Plain and simple. Just …come out with the thing that had been in the back of her head for so long now. Simple, right? …. Unless, of course, her nerves get the better of her.

Nix paced from one end of her room to the other, muttering to herself. She had been this for at least half an hour, since she had come back home from school. She had decided to finally come clean to her parents and reveal something that she had been struggling with for a few weeks now. On her way home she was filled with confidence and determination. She would stand in front of her parents and proudly make her announcement.

And then she came home.

And nerves overtook her.

Hence why she was pacing around her room, almost chewing off one her fingers.

“I mean, there no way they’d be mad, right? I mean, nah. Not my parents. I mean, they love Aunties V and Lizzy. No, it’ll be fine.” Nix said to herself, bringing herself to smile confidently …before it faded to a worried grimace. “But what if they don’t? What if they hate me for it? What if-“

“Dude, you’re going to blow a fuse like that!” a voice called out, making Nix jump in surprise.

Nix took a deep breath and turned to her desk, where her phone still connected to Avery – her honorary cousin and the one person she trusted who had gone through something similar. Which is why she had called them, yet somehow that little event had completely evaded her mind while she was nervously talking to herself. She walked over to her desk and picked up her phone. “Sorry, Avery, forgot you were here …so to speak.”

“Uh-huh, I had that feeling, miss talks-to-herself-a-lot.” Nix could practically hear the shit-eating grin that Avery had on their face right now. The thought made her feel a little better. “Honestly, Nixie, just get it out. Better to throw it all in the open, than to let it bottle up inside where it can build up and burst. Trust me on that.”

“Uh, the way I remember, Ave, is that your moms were walking in on us while you were trying out some of Aunt Liz’s old school uniforms.” Anne chuckled. “And you were making so many panicking excuses that you suddenly just blurted out the truth. There was no ‘build up and burst’ with you.”

“My point exactly!” Avery shouted. “And after a good cry and a long talk, everything worked out between us. Just like -*snap* - that!.”

“Still totally different than what I’m gonna do.” Nix flopped down on her bed, staring at her ceiling. “You got caught – you did, don’t deny it – and it worked out. What if-?”

“It will work out!” Avery repeated themselves. “Nix, your parents are, like, totally the nicest people I know – and I’m counting my mom V with that.”

Nix chuckled. “Yeah …can you still believe people saying that she was so much worse back when?”

“I still don’t believe she was a Disassembly Drone at all. My mellow, librarian mom …like that? Right, no way. It’s like- yatatata, don’t change the subject!.” Avery scolded – they sounded so much like V right now.

“It was worth a try …” Nix grinned. Her audio receptors picked up the sounds of doors closing outside her room. She took a deep breath. “Mom and dad are here. Wish me luck, Avery.”

“Luck!”

Nix ended the call. She closed her eyes for a few moments as she gathered her courage.

“Nix, you here, Sparkplug?” She heard her father call out to her from their living room.

“Y-yeah, in my room!” Nix answered, hoping she really didn’t sound as nervous as she thought how nervous she sounded. She took a deep, final – hopefully not that final – breath and walked out her room. “Hey, I’ve got something to tell y-“

The rest of her words got caught in her throat as she immediately felt her confidence fade when she saw her mother laying down on the couch with her head resting on N’s lap and the latter pressing an icepack against his wife’s forehead. “E-everything alright, mom?”

Uzi let out a soft groan. “Yeah, just …a [parental advisory] day at work.”

“Uzi.” N scolded, despite the grin tugging on his lips.

“What, her censor routines are still powered on.” she paused for a moment before she threw a glance at her teenage daughter. “Are they?”

“Y-yes, sure …” Now they were, at least. Nix had figured out a long time ago where those hidden settings were in her programming. Little trick that Avery had taught her, so they could watch R-rated action movies with unfiltered audio when their parents were out.

“Good girl.” Uzi closed her eyes again, smiling contently as N caressed her hair. “You said you wanted to tell us something, Nix?”

Panic welled up in Nix’s core. “I-it can wait.” She winced when she heard her voice crack in such an obvious way and of course her parents had heard it too. She tried to back away as she saw her mother sit up straight, giving her that motherly ‘something-is-wrong’ look. “I’ll just go back to my room and-“

“Nicole…” N spoke up, his voice soft and calm but it made Nix nevertheless freeze in her tracks, her entire body going rigid as she let out a surprised squeak.

“Nix, what’s the matter?” Uzi asked, clearly concerned about her daughter’s current state.

“N-nothing.” Nix fiddled with her fingers.

“Did something happen at school?” N asked.

“No, honestly.” Why did she sound so desperate to avoid this? Okay, maybe she was kinda trying to avoid it, but … She squeaked again when she suddenly saw her mother right in front of her. Her mother could be so fast when she wanted to be. A pair of hands gently held her arms.

“Nix?”

It was like a heavy weight had nestled inside her forehead, as Nix couldn’t bare herself to lift up her head to watch her mother in the eye.

“Honey, did something happen?” Uzi asked softly. “Did someone hurt you?”

Nix shook her head. “It’s …” Her voice sounded so weak, she hated it.

N ushered Uzi and Nix to come back to the couch, where Uzi gently sat her daughter down while she and N knelt in front of her.

N placed a hand under Nix’s chin and gently lifted it up, making her look at them. Nix didn’t know why but his gently smile always had such a soothing effect on her. She couldn’t help but to smile …but just a bit.

“Oh, I do think I see a little smile under all that gloom.” N joked, chuckling as his wife shoved him in the ribs.

“Nix, your dad’s horrible jokes aside,“ she threw her husband a teasing sideways glance. “We just want to know what is bothering you.”

“W-why would anything bothering me?” Nix asked, playing nervously with her hair.

“You’re playing with your hair.” N pointed out. “You do that when you’re nervous.”

“Like when you were lying when you got an F on your homework because your forgot it.” Uzi added. She crossed her arms, giving her daughter a stern look. “Is this something like that?”

“No …it’s …completely different.” Nix admitted. “It’s just …difficult to find the words?”

“Just that?” N asked, placing a hand on Nix’s knee. “It looks like a bit more than ‘not finding words’, though….”

Nix knew they were gonna grill her until they got answers. She knew they did it because they loved her and they wanted her to be okay, but …no, no ‘but’. Because of that, she needed to tell them the truth. They did everything for her and for that, Nix needed to be honest with them.

“Okay, okay …” Nix took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as she tried to steady her core, so it wouldn’t feel like it was going to burst out of her chassis at any moment. “There is something I need to tell you, but …”

“Yes?” Uzi pressed softly, trying her utmost best not to push beyond Nix’s comfort level. She knew – out of personal experience – how a teenager could lash out when pressed beyond their limit of comfort. Robo-God knows that her dad had faced the brunt of her anger so often …completely justified, of course

“I …I’m scared.” Nix confessed.

“Scared?” Uzi asked, surprised. “Of what?”

“Of us?” N asked.

“Of how you’ll react …”

Uzi and N looked at each other, before turning back to Nix. Uzi held her child’s hands between her own. “React to what, Nix?”

No turning back now. Time to come clean. The curtain falls. The code cracked. The teenager running out of expressions to use to stall for time. One final, deep breath.

“For the last …couple of months, I’ve been …noticing things. Noticing certain …people. Certain …g-genders?” Nix began. Something in her core jumped when she saw her parents’ expression change, even though she couldn’t decipher what emotion it was. “I noticed that I’ve been looking at the girls in my class a little more, a little longer. And when I realized that was happening, I decided to look some things up, got a few digi-books recommended I should read. And, you know, once I remembered that I never really looked at boys that same way, I ….”

She gulped, trying to find out her voice again while she was figuring out what her parents were thinking. Maybe they wanted to say something about what she’d been telling them so far?

…

No? Okay, back to speaking, then.

Nix took a deep breath. Her entire body was tingling, and she felt like her system was going to shut down. “I …I like girls. Really like them. Like …I’m attracted to them. Romantically. I’m often fantasizing about holding hands with girls, kissing girls, dating girls.  I-I-I…I’m gay. I’m a lesbian.”

Nix figured that that knot inside her stomach should have loosened up by now, but it felt tighter than ever. She couldn’t feel her legs. She was sure that she was mere moments away from passing out due to stress related energy loss.

Why weren’t her parents saying something?

They were just staring at her?

Processing the information? Judging? Trying to figure out if they really heard what they just heard?

“W-well?” Nix voice was barely audible.

She felt her core jump when N suddenly stood up and walked away from the couch, hand pressed against his mouth. Was he in shock? Getting angry? Was he disappointed in his only daughter?

A pair of hands fell on Nix’s shoulders, making her jump. Oh yeah, her mom was still her too. Uzi was gazing down at the floor, her expression hidden from the anxiety-riddled teenager. She wanted to call out to her mom, but it seemed that Nix’s voice abandoned her at the moment, only coming out as a barely audible squeak.

“Nicole Doorman …I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

Nix’s core sank and ice filled her entire being.

“I can’t believe you made me lose the bet.”

Wait, what?

A small, slightly apologetic grin, appeared on Uzi’s lips. “I mean, I thought that, at least, you’d be bi, like me.” She sighed. “But it seems your father had it at the right end and now he’s never going let me live it down.”

“Uzi, when did our daughter ever show any sort of interest in boys?” N asked, as he turned towards his wife and daughter with a massive grin on his face.

“There was …” Uzi paused. “Well, I guess that doesn’t really count, since that person is going by ‘she’ and ‘Sally May’ now, but –“

“Excuse me!” Nix called out, announcing that she was still in the room. “Very surprised and very emotional adolescent Drone sitting here!”

“Oh honey …” Uzi caressed her daughter’s cheek. “I’m sorry. We should be handling this a little better, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, you got that right!” Nix’s emotion were all over the place. Confusion. Anger. Relief. Many others. She took a deep breath before stating her question. Which was, very simply: “You knew?”

“We didn’t ‘know it’ know it, but we had our suspicions.” N confessed.

“HOW?” Nix suddenly realized the bombshell her mother had dropped earlier. “Wait, you’re bi, mom?”

“Not really the topic at hand, isn’t it?” Uzi quickly stated, blushing softly and ignoring the teasing chuckle of her husband. Uzi took her daughter’s hands in her own, giving them a soft squeeze. “Nix, our little Sparkplug, we …are your parents. You are your daughter. We know you. We notice things, even if you don’t realize we’re looking.”

“But that book titled ‘Your robo-sexuality and you. A quest for LGBTQIA+ understanding’ you forgot to put away and was laying in the middle of your bed, gave us some clues as well. You really should clean up your room more often.” N confessed with a soft chuckle. “But even without it, we had a feeling.”

Nix’s eyes hollowed. They found that book? She was sure that she had …hang on, not the pressing issue. “So, why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, still blushing.

Uzi cackled for a moment, before she composed herself. “Sorry about laughing like that, but …we thought that ’Honey, can we have a really awkward talk around the diner table about your unlocking sexuality?’ wasn’t really something you were waiting for.”

“So we waited for you.” N smiled reassuringly at Nix. “Until you were ready to come to us.”

“Honey, we are so proud of you, for coming out to us, despite being so anxious and so scared.”

“Yeah, we kinda pressed on the issue there, but-“ he grinned sheepishly when Uzi shot him a scolding look. “Shutting up. But, like Uzi said, we are so proud of you.”

“And we love you.” Uzi held her daughter’s head between her hands. “No matter who you decide you love.”

Flabbergasted. Stumped. Surprised. Baffled. Dazed. Perplexed. Puzzled. Dumbfounded. Flustered. Stupefied. Awestruck. Floored. There were so many words for what Nix was experiencing right now. All of that fear and anxiety she had been feeling. All the buildup leading to her coming-out moment. For days, she had been working up the courage to confess to her parents. Out of all the reactions that her parents could give her …’we had a feeling’ was one she didn’t count for.

It was …laughable.

A snort escaped her. She tried to apologize, but then a giggle got out, followed by another. She tried to keep it in, but she suddenly bursted out in laughter …for a few moments, before it slowly changed into a sob …then another sob. She started crying, wailing as digital tears started to flow down her visor when the emotions that she had been experiencing these last few moments finally found release.

Two pair of arms wrapped around her, each pulling her close. Her dad was stroking her back, holding her head against his chest. Her mom was her hair while whispering words of comfort to her.

“’m s’rry.” Nix tried to choke out, gasping for air – despite not really needing it – and trying to calm herself down.

“Shhh, let it out, Nix.” Uzi whispered warmly, as she gently pulled her daughter against her chest. She couldn’t help but smile as Nix clung to her clothes, sobbing out her apologies. A tear was forming in her eyes as well.

“Our strong girl.” N stated softly but with pride in his voice. The grin on his face made Uzi think back on their wedding day. It was the same goofy, happy smile back then too.

Nix didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like she had been crying for hours, even though she figured there hadn’t even half an hour passed.. Her sobbing had died down to small hiccups, her head still resting comfortably on her mother’s lap while the latter was stroking her daughter’s hair.

“Are you feeling better, Nix?” Uzi asked when Nix finally found the energy to sit up again.

“Mm-hmmm.” Nix rubbed her visor. Her eyes felt dry, even though it's not really possible. She took a deep breath and smiled at her mom. “sorry for breaking down like that.”

“Honey, never apologize for things like that. Never to us.” Uzi stated, caressing her daughter’s cheek. It didn't show, but Uzi had been crying as well, as did N. “It was an emotional rollercoaster, after all.”

“Besides, you should’ve seen Uzi’s outburst when we-“

“Bite me, husband!” Uzi spat out but the grin on her face betrayed that she didn’t mind. She turned to Nix with a grin. “So …is there someone special?”

Nix instantly blushed, playing with a strand of her hair. “N-no …not really.”

“Oh?” N almost seemed disappointed. “No-one I can give a ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’ speech to yet?”

“I thought there was, but …turns out she doesn’t – how did Avery put it? – play for the same team.”

“Wait, you told Avery before us?” Uzi asked, a hint of a teasing grin playing on her lips. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Avery is kinda an expert – or the closest thing to it – on the subject of ‘life-changing realizations and how to present them to your parents’, y’know.”

“Some expert.” Uzi snorted. “Did V and Lizzy walk in on them?”

“Yeah, while you two were trying on dresses?”

“That’s what I told them, too.” Nix giggled. Her expression turned bittersweet. “But …I don’t know, it felt like they were the only ones I could go with this, quote-unquote, “problem” of mine. We’ve always been each other’s confidants, y’know?”

“Did V and Lizzy know before us?” Uzi asked sharply.

“Avery swore she wouldn’t tell before I told you guys, but, eh …you know how Auntie V can get when she sniffs a secret.”

“Well, if V knows, she’d keep it a secret, too.” N stated as he ruffled Nix’s hair, much to her chagrin. He scratched the side of his chin before adding. “Robo-Lord knows she knows how to keep ‘em.”

“Huh? What does that mean?” Nix cocked her head in confusion, while Uzi threw N a warning glare.

“Uh, nothing.” N quickly answered, as digital beads of sweat ran down his visor. “Something between the three of us.”

Nix rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Well, someone is back to being a moody teenager.” Uzi grinned. “Feeling better?”

“Feeling great!” Nix stated cheerfully, and it couldn’t be more true.it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt like she could fly – if only she had inherited wings like her dad, but at least she could dream.

Nix grinned as she thought about the advice that Avery had given her. Who knew they were right, although in a different order: A good talk, a long cry and everything worked out great.

*SNAP*

Just like that.

[sootyships]

Part 1 | Part 10 | Part 11 (you're here) | Part 12 (TBA)

Mer!Sun & reader | 0.9k words

Mirrored on Ao3 >>HERE<<

If you're going to indulge Sun’s and Moon’s curiosity—and yours—you need to know what you're getting into.

So, you type in "human waterfolk romance" into your browser and all but roll your eyes out of their sockets when the top results point to Archive Of Our Own and Wattpad. Of course. "Human waterfolk relationship" gives something more sensible, such as a website detailing the topic in Irish folklore.

Sensible, but not exactly helpful.

You keep looking, skim through the Wikipedia article on waterfolk, and eventually stumble upon r/SleepingWithFishes, a "subreddit focused on waterfolk and their relationships with humans".

Well, in the name of research...

You click through and start scrolling. Someone has boosted a recent news article by the local broadcasting company on a juvenile mer drowning in some neglectful human's old, illegal type of fishing net. Another post is an analysis on the possible real-world inspirations of The Little Mermaid and an earlier fairy tale from the same era, Undine. Another user has shared a selfie—the faces blurred—where one of the individuals in the image is clearly a mer.

"Why don't merpeople have to pay taxes?" wonders someone. "If a mer eats fish fingers, is that cannibalism?" Har har. "Where can I see a mer?" Topic locked by mods as against the rules. "Can you get pregnant from swimming in the same lake as waterfolk?" Comical. "Benefits of waterfolk to local ecosystems". You open that in another tab; it could be interesting. "Are waterfolk nixies?" "Should waterfolk be registered?" "Does compulsory education not apply to merfolk?" And so on.

You hesitate, then type "dating" into the search bar.

"Is it bestiality to date merpeople?" asks one user. How promising. Among this crowd, the answer is a resounding fuck no. "Adult waterfolk pass the Harkness test!" one commenter points out. Very scientific. "My son claims to be in a relationship with a mermaid, should I be worried?" asks a concerned mother. "Problems when dating waterfolk?" Relevant to your interests. "I'm married to a mer. AMA." How?!?

You read your fill and, armed with newfound knowledge(?), march to the dock and go for a swim. Before long, Sun's face pops up right in front of you.

"Sunny!" you exclaim and the next thing you know he's hugging you.

"Friend! You were right!" He squeezes you and rubs his cheek against yours. "You give such good advice!"

You squeeze him back. "Oh, it really went well?" You ask and pull back a little so you can look at him.

He releases you right away and gives you more space—more than you need—grabbing at his cheeks instead. "Yes! At least, I think so?"

"I'm so happy for you!" you exclaim and all but squee, pushing aside any feelings you may or may not be having about being just a plaything for him and Moon. It's fine! You can just have fun with your friend; Sun doesn't need to have serious intentions about you.

Already having an idea about their track record when it comes to communicating, though, you better keep them posted about each other's movements around yourself. "Oh, I talked with Moon last night. He was behaving okay." You wrinkle your nose. "Flirty, though."

"Oh." Sun wrings his hands. "He didn't make you uncomfortable, right?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No, no. I'm not sure how I feel about it but—he was okay. Didn't creep me out, or anything." At least not enough to warrant mention. It doesn't seem like a good moment to sic Sun on Moon for anything minor.

"Good. That's good", Sun says. He carefully reaches for your hand and when you offer it to him, he brings it to his cheek and nuzzles into it.

Cute.

You two spend the day playing in the water and ripping up more pondweed. The section of the shore adjacent to the lot is actually becoming pondweed-free, with Sun diving up the plants with their roots and all. Together, you accumulate a respectable pile on the dock. Before you exit the water to carry the pondweed to the compost, Sun leans in and flicks his tongue against your cheek before diving and swimming off.

"Um?" you ask the empty air and instinctively wipe your fingers across your cheek to check for residue. There's none that can be distinguished from the water already on your skin, of course. Okay, whatever. Time to haul this pile of pondweed to the compost.

As you carry the last armful to the compost frame next to the outhouse, Sun calls your name. You spot him waving at you out on the lake.

"I caught you a whitefish!" He lifts a very large fish out of the water with both hands. You stare.

"Holy shit." You throw the armful of pondweed into the compost pile and gesture for Sun to swim to the dock as you head down the path.

"Friend?" Sun calls, more hesitantly.

"Yeah!" You call back. "That's amazing! Come over to the dock?"

"Oh!" he exclaims and dives.

He's already waiting for you when you walk onto the dock. He all but vibrates in excitement as you offer him the fish corf to store the fish.

You have to ask. "Where do you get these huge whitefish? We've thought they'd all died off or something—Thank you, by the way."

Sun smiles brightly up at you from the water. "There aren't many but I want to feed you well!"

"Yeah, uh—thank you. That's—thoughtful. I appreciate it", you flounder. It’s true, but his candidness remains jarring. You could ask about his motivations but—even still—you'd cringe out of your skin if you were mistaken.

[hawkstincan]

Get to know me tag game!

Tagged by @kitkatt0430 thanks for the tag <3<3<3

1. Do you make your bed?

Nope. I dropped making my bed as soon as my mom moved out. Maybe even before that. I sleep on two blankets and under a blanket. It’s just easier. And I toss a lot in my sleep and shits were always on the floor in the morning anyway. So I just stopped wasting my time and energy on making bed 

2. Favorite number?

I consider 666 and 13 lucky ones. And have a soft spot for 6 and 9

3. What’s your job?

Post office. Night shifts. Salary sucks but it’s like two steps from my apartment and I spend most of the shift alone there  

4. If you could go back to school would you?

Honestly? No. I’m too anxious to go back to learning. I dropped out the first time around. And I don’t really have passion for any subject to put myself through this kind of struggle. If I ever find something worth it maybe, but for now no      

5. Can you parallel park?

Nope, I’ve never learned how to drive

6. Do you think aliens are real?

I don’t have a strong opinion. But with the size of the Universe? I thinks that’s quite a possibility 

7. Can you drive a manual car?

Nope, I’ve never learned how to drive

8. What’s your guilty pleasure?

Hmm, Catwoman (2004) and other movies/shows I love but they are considered bad. And yeah, I know that catwoman is bad. But Halle Berry is so beautiful! And I have working eyes! (A Beginner's Guide to Endings on the other hand rated like 6 on imdb. I? I unironically think it’s a masterpiece) 

9. Tattoos?

Yep! I have four for now: snake biting its tail on my right ankle (it goes around the ankle like a bracelet);  flying crow on my right hand below the elbow; mass effect inspired geth crawling on my left shoulder and lightning and snowflakes (if you’re thinking it was inspired by ship you are right) all over my left hand below the elbow. Lightning goes on my palm and point finger. If I have more ‘spare’ money… I’ll get some more. I have ideas and places. 

10. Favorite color?

Purple since I fell in love with hawkeye. And it was black for the most of my life. I still love black. 

11. Favorite type of music?

Rock. Or metal? Or hard rock? I never thought too much about the types. So lets say rock. All the rock 

12. Do you like puzzles?

Kinda? I like them but they are usually very hard for me to solve. And I hate feeling stupid. I like idea but rarely try to really solve them

13. Any phobia?

Insectophobia. I can’t even go near some bugs. Just nope. I once almost jumped under the car to avoid a bug 

14. Favorite childhood sport?

Badminton. We never played by any rules. Just ‘do everything you can to keep the shuttlecock in the air’. And I was good at it. At school we once played with tennis rackets for almost two hours. Good times  

15. Do you talk to your self?

All the time xD Sometimes aloud. “You are a strong capable woman you CAN STOP READING AND FINISH THIS” can be heard every shift from me to me. Luckily I’m the only one hearing this xD 

16. What movies do you adore?

Wrath of Man and Pacific Rim and all Resident Evil movies (with Milla Jovovich) and 10 Things I Hate About You and Bring It On and MASH and From Dusk Till Dawn are my comfort movies/shows. I love the Critters trilogy. I love the new Star Trek trilogy. Nightmare on Elm Street (old ones). The Gentlemen. Old Guard. Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (I rewatched it like four times in a row). The Suicide Squad. The Boondock Saints. Ten Inch Hero. Drive Angry… Well. Like. I have weird taste in movies I guess? (I’ve mentioned only movies I saw more than 5 times)    

17. Coffee or tea?

Coffee. I can't find balance with tea. It’s either tasteless or makes me sick because it’s too strong. Coffee I can drink non stop. Hot and cold, instant and beans. I love the bitter taste of coffee.   

18. First thing you wanted to be growing up

Veterinarian, I think. I always loved animals and thought that being the one to heal them is the best career ever

Tagging (no pressure): @holycafe, @nixie-deangel, @luna-shimizu, @bedalk, @madsteacup, @mommalosthermind, @eaion, @thing2dani and whoever feels like participating :3

[nixieie]

AAAAA I GOT PERSONA 5 ROYAL AS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT it's downloading rn and im super excited to start playing it like dude persona and 100+ hours of gameplay count me in

[nixie-writes]

Facts About Nixie

I'm still recovering from being in the hospital for 10 days but I really wanted to write something simple and easy. Not a fic, just ideas about Nixie I thought I could share. Under the cut because it's a bit long

-Nixie manifested in Hell about 300 years ago. She was given an Asmodean crystal to go to earth and lure sailors to their death. However, she got tired of seducing sailors and went back to Hell for good . It was around this time she was made Overlord of Mythology, seeing as she had practically rested the myth of sirens and mermaids.

-after returning to Hell Nixie was unsatisfied by the way her home ring, Envy, was run, so she decided to traverse other rings. She eventually settled in Wrath for a few years, before she heard whispers on the street that Pride had become a shit show. She had to see what they were talking about so she went to the Pride ring to find out.

-she was displeased with how Lucifer was running his own ring. Even Mammon did a better job than him. However, these were sinners, the worst of humanity. What was the guy expected to do?

-she wasn't aware that extermination was happening that day, however she knew that exorcists had no interest in killing Hellborns. So she climbed a tall building and watched the chaos. This is where she met Zestial. She was confused as to why he wasn't running and he simply shrugged. "I revel in their screams," he replied. Nixie found it a bad odd that a sinner would risk his life just to see others perish, but she didn't mind the company.

-it was after the extermination ended that Nixie was wandering around, observing the carnage. That's when she noticed Charlie patching up a gray female who had lost her eye. She found it interesting that the princess of Hell would dabble in such meager things, but she walked over to offer help.

-Charlie glanced up as Nixie approached, trying to look friendly. "Can I help?" she inquired, showing both hands to prove she had no weapons. Charlie recognized her as an Overlord and accepted her help in getting this "Vaggie" woman to a run down hotel.

-Over time Nixie became attached to Charlie and Vaggie, feeling like their mother figure, seeing as neither really had one. She was at the hotel when Alastor arrived.. Her eye narrowed and she groaned. "Not this guy..." she muttered.

-Charlie was already talking to Alastor about her hotel,seeing as he'd learned about it in the "picture show". As Charlie was about to accept Alastor's help Nixie pulled her to the side. "Really? This guy? He's nothing but trouble, I've been around long enough to know. Charlie pulled away, telling her that she was old enough to make her own decisions and accepted Alastor's help.

-Nixie functions off water magic she produces. She has the ability to dissipate away, although it takes about 30 seconds for her to fully dissipate and is most vulnerable and weak when shes trying to dissipate. Therefore, she only does this around those she trusts.

-She's closest with Charlie and Vaggie, treating the two like her daughters. Over time she becomes the official mom of the hotel.

-In the hotel she's a therapist, listening to what others have to say and making suggestions that don't include violence or anything that could mess up their progress in getting into Heaven.

-Outside the hotel she's a social worker, helping orphaned children, those with disabilities that prevent them from working, etc. She gets a lot of shit from Angel about what she does outside the hotel and how she isn't going to make a difference, bit Nixie believes she can make a different in at least one life, which will make the work worth it.

-Nixie gets along well with Lucifer. She's practically Charlie's mother at this point so he doesn't mind her presence. They'll have impromptu therapy sessions and Lucifer will trauma dump on Nixie and she'll just listen, taking mental notes. She'd assure him that the terrible things done to him are over with, and he doesn't need to hold onto the past when there's such a bright future for him up ahead.

[jessicatredes]

i was tagged by @chloefrazer (like a week ago woops) to do this oc association - thank youuuuuuu!! i chose my bby boy raylan grace for this

tagging @newbordeaux @raphaelsboudoir @malefiicarum @jennystahl @chuckhansen @elvves @gwynbleidd & anyone else who wants to :-)

ANIMALS.

buzzards, coyotes, ravens. scavengers that feed off the dead.

COLOR.

black, orange, greens, & browns. flashy and muted shades.

MONTH.

august; when the days are hot and the nights are chilly.

SONGS.

jealousy, jealousy - olivia rodrigo; i'm so sick of myself when you die - mgmt; i'm not that nice pls pls pls let me get what i want - deftones; haven't had a dream in a long time god complex - violent vira; i wanna be the messiah, pariah / the one who never dies

NUMBER.

13.

PLANTS.

spanish moss, rye, foxglove, hemlock.

SMELLS.

stale air, petrichor, cigarettes, cheap cologne.

GEMSTONE.

conch pearl.

TIME OF DAY.

sunset.

SEASON.

summer.

PLACES.

amusement parks, empty parking lots, convenience stores at night.

FOOD.

cheap food; prepackaged items like instant noodles and white bread. plates left untouched, barely picked at. gum & mints.

DRINKS.

coffee, energy drinks, slushies, cheap wine.

ELEMENT.

earth.

SEASONINGS.

rosemary, paprika, nutmeg.

SKY.

hazy desert sunset.

WEATHER.

humid.

MAGICAL POWER.

time manipulation.

WEAPONS.

favors blades & pistols, but would rather talk his way out of confrontation.

CANDY.

sour or hard candy.

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL.

the unreliable for travel to different parts of the colony. he doesn't mind foot travel for long distances over land.

ART STYLE.

romanticism & retro art.

FEAR.

sleep; has insomnia due to anxiety of sleeping from the deep space freeze. also hates eating corporation food. he's afraid he'll always be pretending he's someone else and always feel the need to lie.

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE.

sirens, nixies, will-o-wisp.

PIECE OF STATIONARY.

napkin with shitty handwriting scrawled on it.

THREE EMOJIS.

🚀🥍🪽

CELESTIAL BODY.

pluto's moon, charon.

[nixie-deangel]

💔💔💔

✨✨✨

Thank You ♥️

💔 icemav break up / icedad

Tom Kazansky has seen a lot of things in his life, in his career but he’s pretty sure listening to Mav and Carole, to the… to the words coming out of their mouths. He thinks this might actually be the most bat shit insane bullshit he’s ever witnessed in his life. And he spent nine months doing some awkward peacocking ritual dancing with Maverick. So he knows what he’s talking about.  “You cannot be serious,” he cuts in, voice raising loud enough to cut the other two off. “You. You seriously can’t be… be… What the…” He trails off, dumbfounded as he tries to process what they’d been saying. Pulling Bradley’s papers from the academy?  Thinking their boy wouldn’t be hurt by their actions?  Thinking they could just brush it all off under the rug and still be happy families?

✨ Retired Bradley, Jake climbing Command

But Jake lets himself be content with it. Mostly because he knows this is what he wants. He wants to move up, to take command beyond leading strike teams. Wants to go up and up and up, to see how far he can make it before he’s either forced to retire or he decides he just doesn’t want to get up and put on the uniform anymore. Maybe, yeah, he was finally at an age or a stage in his life, where he was thinking of wanting something more with a person to call his own. Maybe he’s tired of the string of failed relationships that never went anywhere because of his constant deployments or the extra hours he put into being the best of the best. And maybe yeah, he was finally ready to admit he’d missed his shot. That he was ready to come to terms with having been to chicken shit to reach out and see if that spark he shared with Bradshaw would go anywhere. That he would always carry that regret with him but that he was ready to lay it to rest.

Make Nixie Write!

[ragnarlothcat]

9 people you would like to get to know better

Tagged by @nixie-deangel, thank you 🥰

1. 3 ships - obikin is the only one I'm actively participating in. I flipped through Mulder/Scully (sculder???) a few months ago and then fem!shep/Miranda because we were talking about Mass Effect. Neither rotted my brain but I enjoyed my time there.

2. first ever ship - I think when I was like...three I was weirdly invested in the elephants from Babar if that counts (not the cousins, I liked the uptight one). If not, I'm pretty sure drarry is the first ship I ever actively sought out.

3. last song - Good Times Roll - The Cars

4. last movie - A Haunting in Venice (hmu if you want to hear a lot of opinions)

5. currently reading - It's called Circus of Wonders. It's ok, but I'm not exactly deep into it.

6. currently watching - Ostensibly still the X-Files but I hit a point where I wasn't having fun so it's been a little while. I think I need a new show 🤔

7. currently consuming - Just water, sadly

8. currently craving - Curry, which I am having for dinner so I just need to be patient! (Find me in ten minutes gnawing on the spice rack like a beaver)

No pressure tagging (and aware that many of you have probably been tagged before: @artemisthehuntress, @bi-wan, @renlyslittlerose, @tideswept, @virahaus, @grapenehifics, @demon----dean, @palfriendpatine66, @skyfucker