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bewitchingbaker · 20 days

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Valentine’s Day Application

Name: Beth Riley an' no you're not gonna make me say da whole kine cause by time I would be done, we gettin' ready f' Easter.

Age: 29

Do you like to cuddle?: Is Holy Faddah ~da Pope~ Cat'olic? You already know da answer t' dis one as you are in fact my primary victim. I mean...cuddlee? Wha' you call dat person who receive cuddles?

Can we make-out?: This is where Beth giggles and looks away, a corresponding blush to match his. Her already soft voice becomes smaller still, almost inaudible against the sound of drizzle outside. "I mean. No can promise I won't...keep teeth t' myself, but I have it on good aut'ority dat you kinda don't hate it. So."

A night in or dinner out?: Uhm...hones'ly, I know you like goin' out, explorin' da city an' all da funky little pop-ups an' unique places, but I'm sort of a homebody at heart. My compromise den is to take a map of da city and tack it up to dart board, t'row a couple, see where dey land...den go an' pick out appetisers, drinks, food, an' den pack dem back to your house or mine. Now, notice I no say dessert because I would use my bes' feminine wiles t' get you to make me haupia or lilikoi filled malasadas, fresh.

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: Gonna be Tulio and Miguel right now an' say both? Both is good. But it depends on wha' we gonna do wi' dem an' if mebbe when you say chocolate syrup you mean da dark chocolate an' sea-salt ganache still hot in from da waddah ba'd you made last week. Really broke da mout' an' I could eat our combined body weight of it.

Chocolates and roses?: She gives him a certain look, one that's as rare as hen's teeth. She isn't quite mad at him but something wounds her deep down. It takes a few seconds before she blinks that instant rage away, and then turns her jaw away apologetically. "Don't do roses."

What makes you a good Valentine?: Lessee, I know you forevah. We have a lifetime of ups an' downs, share so many kine in common, we bo'd laid-back kine of people, an' no maddah what we do? Always have a good time togeddah, or make a bad one beddah for one anoddah. So...I guess...dat's jus' it. I know you. I care about you. An' we're bo'd like stupidly soft.

Would you cook for me?: "Haven't in...I dunno how long. It's been almos' fifteen year? You know wha' happen last time I was lef' alone in da kitchen unsupervised...an' so does da Phoenix fire-department. Dey said nex' time dey would charge me wi' arson." They both know she's only half kidding. She can prep-cook and she can work creative wonders with frosting and fondant but she leaves the actual cooking to Chris.

Would you let me cook for you?: Same as cuddle answer. You're amazingly talented in all dat you do. To da point I'm pretty sure dat Kitchen-Witch is more dan jus' someone who practices magick wi' whatevah dey have on hand. An' I know you been tryin' to branch out, make somet'ing different from wha' you do in da bakery. I am volunteer as tribute, den, to be your taste-tester.

Where would you take me on a date?: Mmm. Whaddya in mood for? Live music I'd take you to da Van Buren. Or mebbe Char's if ya feelin' low key an' cozy. Or, since technically Valentimes is also Deat' t' Captain Cook day, maybe Undertow, but sometimes da whole 'ooooh, tiki-bar!' is so offensively fake Polynesia, mebbe we skip dat. Again, depends on where you wanna go, who ya wanna be seen by, wha' ya whole vibe is.

Who’s paying?: Another look, a small archaeological dig in her backpack-that-pretends-to-be-a-purse, and she finally returns to the conversation triumphantly with her wallet. She opens it up and points to the seven different credit cards inside of it. "All of my coloniser family, actually." The smile she gives him is a little sharp, the flick of her tongue not remotely doing anything to soften the look.

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: This is where Beth shows her weirdness because nothing she produces is technically Valentines related. Not a single heart, no shade of pink or red or white. Instead she hands him a small wooden crate. Within is a master's collection: A blu ray copy of Possession from 1981. Near Dark, 1987. An uncut copy of Peter Jackson's Dead/Alive. Fright Night. Return of the Living Dead Collector's Edition. Dawn on the Dead, 1978. And the crowning jewel, a fully restored Vincent Prince's House on Haunted Hill, 1958. "I dunno if ya hip t' dis, but movie marathon?"

The baker adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat as if he were a the most regal of judges. His eyes glance at his phone, taking note of the questions on their quiz.They already went over his answers and like a kid at Christmas, he was excited to hear her answers.

Chris nods in half agreement.

He knew her name liek the back of his hand. No, not just Beth. Or Eliziabeth Irene Riley.

Elikapeka Ailine Alohaekauneikahanuola'Ilikea'wahine Riley.

After all, he did spend hours practicing after school with Jess. Writing it over and over in a notebook until he finally got it right, 25 times phonetically and 25 times spelled correctly (though one could spot his early spelling mistakes).

Needless to say, Chris knew her name and age without having to ask. Hell, he could say it just as fast and easily as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

A slight red hue fills those chubby cheeks of his at her answer of cuddling and making out. One would think he would be used to her affections. Long before they started dating, Chris was often Beth's cuddlee. The Luna sleepovers usually ended with the younger siblings tangled up on each other's arms. If you asked Chris what he remembered the most about the first time Beth held him, he would tell you he remembers his heart sinking to his stomach when he saw Andy standing over them.

Thankfully, it just earned him a playful (albeit still painful punch to his arm.)

"Cuddlee is definitely the right word," Chris chuckles. "I definitely think you're a top tier cuddler. Olympic level if we're being honest."

Then that's when he hears her voice soften and that giggle that would always make that childhood stutter return as he if saw her for the first time. If there was one person who could tell you about his thing for sharp teeth, it was one Elizabeth Riley.

Afterall, she was the baker's first kiss...and bite.

"You might have some authority on that mi amor" he jokes with a bashful chuckle , "But I'm not gonna complain if I feel a little bite."

When it came to going out, Chris wasn't exaclty a social butterfly. Often more interested in the delicious meals and sweet treats around Arizona. Sometimes taking note but usually just enjoying the ambiance. Plus, he would always appreciate the sight of Beth in a nice dress. But as long as there was good food and even better company, Chris was happy.

"That sounds like a good compromise, as long as I get to try some good food and get to look those beautiful eyes I'm good."

The love of his life earns one of Chris's laughs when she mentions using her best feminine wiles. Beth could easily just smile his way, giving him the world's most complicated order. Best belive he'd find a way to fulfill that order.

"Honestly, you could give me the world's small peck on my cheek and I'd make you whatever you wanted from scratch."

The young Luna can't help but smile at her reference to the Dreamwork's classic, remembering their young days imitating the blonde and brunette duo. He straightens his glasses with a smile that grows at her pronounced love for his dark chocolate and sea-salt ganache recipe. It warmed his heart to know his recipes were appreciated outside the bakery.

Though his smile falters seeing that look. It was rare for one experience the wrath of Beth, thankfully Chris never pushed her to that point. He's only seen that look once before this and thank the Gods he was not the cause. Only the Admiral could get that kind of reaction out of such a kind soul.

He gives her a firm nod.

"I'll definitely make note of that."

Thankfully the mood is lightened with the next answer. A small select few know Chris that well. Beth. His sister. His tias. Can't forget Zora. It was rare for the baker to feel comfy with someone seeeing...all of him.

After all she saw him in a all phases of his life. Good. Bad. Sad. Weird.Just like he supported her, she had his b's even through his worst phases.

"Can't argue with you on that, although I will say betweent he two of us you're the softer one. Why do ya think I can't keep my hands off ya~"

He offers a wink.

A small chuckle soon follows once she mentions the Phoenix fire department charging her with arson if she has another fire incident. Some guys would go out of their way to poke fun at her about this. Even make a few snide comments. But not Chris. He's perfectly happy cooking their meals. What better way to express his love than in the kitchen.

Like she says, he could be a kitchen witch after all.

Soon that cat like tilt of his head follows seeing her thumb through her backpack as she discusses a few potential dates. A night at the Van Buren could be fun, especially if the coloniser side of the fam was paying for it. But then she reveals a wooden crate, further piqued his curiosity. When he goes through it's contents, those soft brown hues widen as that dorky grin spreads across his face.

"Whoa! No way! Thanks!"

He clears his throat, attempting to look as smooth as possible.

"I mean, this is pretty cool. I dont know where to start but I have a few ideas."

A small smile spreads his face.

"Would you be down to spend Valentines day doing a movie marathon? We could pick one of those fancy resteraunts in town and get take out and some wine. I'll even make some of those desserts you like."

He leans over to press a kiss against her cheek.

"I mean it's safe to say you're definitely my valentine. Honestly, even before we filled out this quiz, I was gonna ask if ya wanted to be my Valentine."

[ @brooklynislandgirl ]

#brooklynislandgirl #; ic #Dance Until Dawn: Chris and Beth #LovingSpoonful!Verse #Painted Desert Moons

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emeraldtied · 3 months

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↳ @familylightfox asked: Harmony paused on her way out the door with her teammates, long enough to give her dad a quick hug. Her light hearted tone the same as always. "See ya later dad. We're goin' explorin' in Grand Metropolis."

And out the door she went.

This left the couple by themselves and Volt offered a smile over his shoulder in the kitchen. On the kitchen island was a small tart with fruits in the shape of a heart on top and a card. "Can't forget the date that started this all... And I thought it might distract from the last letter we got."

After drying his hands, one was held out in offer for a cuddle before they tucked into the treat...

And maybe a dance there in the space for just the two of them.

{➹} – THE HERO HAD just finished getting ready for the day, and had only just adjusted his scarf to its usual position as he came downstairs when the teens greeted him. And naturally the hug from his daughter was returned, a quick ruffle of her bangs before he smiled.

"Have fun, Squirt. And say 'hi' t' Chirps or Ericka for me if you run int' them." With that a wave was given to her and her teammates as the door closed. Just like every morning the hero made his way to the kitchen right after, and it truly said something that even now his smile brightened tenfold seeing his partner there. And that was before he had even seen the tart.

"You mean one of the scariest, an' yet best, days of my life?" He laughed, of course he hadn't forgotten what today was, but his expression did shift to something more tender at that latter part. A distraction sounded perfect and in no time at all the hero had gone to close the space between them, taking a hand and softly giving it a kiss.

The adoration was clear in those emerald hues, just as much as the words to follow. It was obvious the couple was still torn up about the aforementioned letter, but Arrow beamed nonetheless. "Call me an optimist but if we've come this far I just know that we'll get over this latest hump. We just need t' try again, and maybe a few times after that."

He was certain that their little dream would come true, but today wasn't going to focus on that. It was about each other and just how far they had come over the years. All because the hero had finally grown a backbone and seized something that he wanted. And not a day went by when he regretted that. Just like there wasn't a day that would pass when he would refuse a dance in their home. With his husband. His soulmate.

"I love you."

#we found love right where we are | volt and arrow #keep going strong | volt #spark that will hold the light | harmony #familylightfox #reading all the papers | ask

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cthonicascendant · 7 months

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20 Do you want a grand adventure?

32 Do you believe in star signs?

42 Is freewill an illusion?

66 How do you feel about the idea ‘an eye for an eye’?

20 Do you want a grand adventure?

i mean like it depend5 on vvhat vve mean by adVenture i aint 5ignin up for no mordor ring deliVery 5erVice you feel me but if vvere talkin like 5pendin a fevv perigee5 explorin another country or hell eVen ju5t goin around america that vvould be cool

32 Do you believe in star signs?

it i5 fakey fake bull5hit

42 Is freewill an illusion?

oh me vvere gettin philo5ophical in the hiVe tonight

in my opinion you can do vvhat you vvant forevver vvhich i5 5lightly antithetical to the idea that vve dont haVe the ability to 5elf determine our path5 in life

66 How do you feel about the idea 'an eye for an eye'?

i mean im a troll vvhat do you think

ok look hone5tly ill admit it dont really 5olVe any problem5 but holy fuck i5 it 5ati5fyin makin a motherfucker pay

i may or may not haVe a VindictiVe 5treak ok

#earmo-imni #void5ong #untranslated typing quirk #ask game response

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truckreincarnation · 9 months

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Countless Right and Wrongs || Perry || Trial 1-2 || RE: Bian, Vee, Luz, Yuliya

Augh, all the crying and whatnot. Perry was too tired to deal with all of this, really. It was all... emotionally taxing. Perry, herself, might not have been crying, and desperately holding onto a thread of cool she might have had, but man nothing... None of this was feeling good. Not with any of the pieces she was slowly putting together.

"Ah... Ef ya donnae maind me addin' onta some o' tha earlier alibies sta'ed... 19 mentioned tha' all o' tha swords were there hwen she arrived hwen we were talkin' hwile explorin', so... tha only people hwo coulda taeken those hwile 19 was stell presen' were Shin, Germa, or Francis, aye? An' baesed on hwa' Miles per hour an' Luz mentioned, et seems laike Shin, Germa, Mana, Luz, an' Miles per hour couldnnae have done et sence they were together."

That was a pretty big lump of people to cross off, right?

"So ay do thenk tha' Francis took tha swords, jus' because nobody else could have. Though, hwa' ef somebody saw all tha swords taeken on tha shee' an' go' worried, so they took tha gun ta faind hwere tha swords were goin'? Fer tha saeke o' justece an' subvertin' a plo' o' somethin'. Ah, bu'... maebe tha' doesnnae maeke sense, ef Francis had tha gun, e'en ef ay thenk Bibi's aidea of Francis maekin' a diagram esnnae a bad one."

Mmmm one step forward and two steps back, perhaps. Perry shook her head and sighed.

"Anywae, thanks ta Vee and Yuliya, Theophania, Frank, an' more emportan'ly, Vee and Esmée are both cleared, too, aye? Tha's laike... More than half o' us. Maekes et a wee bi' easier."

Oh! But something did click for her. She pressed her fist into her palm, clearly fired up by whatever it was that came to mind.

"Oy!! So, there were no foo'prin's at tha scene, aye? Hwa' ef somebody used the diagram paper ta waipe off the blood from their shoes hwen they were leavin'!! An' then pu' et back en her pocke' naice an' easy! Tha' would maeke sense as ta hwy there was none, aye?"

Ah, yes! An ingenious idea. Perry puffed out her chest, seeming proud of herself. After all, most of the other stuff she suggested was mostly reiterating what others were saying.

#Perry #ch1 #trial1 #submission

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the-mainverse · 1 year

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H-hello *waves*

Shortie: *You introduce Leighton. He’s exploring with us!*

Miller: Explorin’ huh? Where y’all goin’?

Hailey: Ta see Rainbow and Thermal! Or either or!

Miller: Oh, those two! Ah haven’t seen ‘em inna while!

Hailey: Me either!

#ask #leightonbainesenthusiast #hailey #miller #shortie

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tacogoats · 6 years

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found a cool dungeon (isz) but sony are dicks and won’t let me share it because I don’t have ps+ BUT HERE YA GO ANYWAY...

Never been big on exploring dungeons in Bloodborne but I thought WHAT THE HECK and started one up. First layer rewarded me with... a Lost Threaded Cane. Woop tee doo.

I kinda left it alone after that; but today my PC decided to take TWO HOURS... to do windows updates so I hopped back on and died to a winter lantern and then decided to keep exploring the dungeon.

Goodies I found:

Layer one: Heart = Great Deep Sea rune

Layer Two: 1 Ritual Blood (5), 2 Yellow Backbone, 3 Pearl Slugs, and a whole lot of big rooms. Boss was a Brainsucker.

Layer Three however is where things got interesting.

There was a room with 3 lil grabby witches, killed them and found 4 Tomb Mold (5), 2 more Pearl Slugs.... and... TWO HUNTERS. Take note this is NOT a FRC dungeon, there are NO extra rites. One was Gremia apparently (Bloodborne discord identified him as such). The first one I grabbed a pic of because I had never seen a Hunter in a root chalice before. First one dropped a tempering damp blood gem.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DPp9yWiVQAAysWa.jpg:large

The second one was Gremia (used Augur on me), he did not drop anything. Found the chest afterwards and it was guarded by a brain sucker, chest dropped odd arcane damp gem, and another room further away had 3 more Tomb Mold (5). Take note the Hunters were in the same room, just across each other! I’m going to keep it open for now. I am not even done exploring it yet ;-; Might do that now...

#bloodborne #chalice dungeons #ME GOIN EXPLORIN'

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ghostlymartian · 2 years

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i started pixelarting a lot thanks to your blog because good dammit you make pixelart look so good i can't help but want to learn, tho, i still won't post anything because i think everything looks horrible when i do it--- so anyways! i was wondering if you could give us beginners some tips about pixelart!

Nobody starts off perfect! I always LOVED 2D fighting games and everything pixel art.

The first time I really did it was for a programming class early 2020. I did all the art and animation for it in a single weekend. (The first picture being the main character, Holly in her game)

Since then I kinda just saved a TON of sprite sheets of my favorite games like Pokémon,Street Fighter, Scott Pilgrim, Clock Tower, etc.

The first time I did my Cody n’ Guy sprites I wasn’t really happy with it. But the more ya study it the better you’ll get.

Get experimental with all kinds of Pixel Art. But I think starting of simple is the best way to go. I’ve seen people do AWESOME with only a few pixels.

I personally think goin’ without lines for pixel art is easier especially if yer startin’ out.

Definitely work with a grid. It worked wonders for me. Especially if u wanna animate.

Find that style u wanna set a goal for. Settin’ my goal for Scott Pilgrim has really helped me out. Once u master one style ya just keep goin’ up from there!

I’m not one for much art advice but I hope it helps. Hope ya have fun explorin’ pixel art 💕

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faerune · 3 years

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the sun has come to save me

pairing: johnny silverhand x f!v [vera volakov]

summary: in the aftermath of mikoshi's destruction, johnny takes his old body for a joyride and v accepts an offer from the aldecaldos though they can't seem to shake the other's presence. johnny shows up for a drink.

warnings: smut with feelings! drinking! smoking! spoilers!

[AO3]

Johnny Silverhand is on her doorstep and boy, if her teeny bopper self could be here-

But she isn’t and Johnny barely looks at her when he shoves inside with not a hello but a “Where you keep your booze?”

They both seem to realize how redundant the question is when Johnny makes a b-line for the cabinet stocked with half-finished liquor bottles and mixers.

Vera clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth and frowns at him, shoving the door closed. She hasn’t seen him for weeks. Not since Viktor gave him the all clear. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed he was rearing to take his new...well, old body out for a spin.

Still, a text to let her know he wasn’t dead in a gutter would have been nice. She had worked damn hard to get that body back for him. She’s surprised he didn’t take it and run; get back to doing what he does best — shredding in some sleazy bar for free drinks or sniffing out any way to fuck a corp over.

Vera shifts on her bare feet, hip cocked out and her arms crossed. She bites her tongue because it’s weird how much the picture of a pissed girlfriend she must be right now.

She wanders over to where Johnny has uncorked a bottle of whiskey that’s been gathering dust in her cabinet. He pours it garishly into mismatched cups and hands her one. It’s the first time he looks at her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It’s like...ten in the morning,” Vera tells him, motioning toward the window aglow with sunlight.

“Like you give a shit,” he counters.

Vera ponders that for a moment and then shrugs, throwing the glass back. The whiskey burns her throat and she makes a disgusted noise, a little shiver shaking through her. Vera has never liked whiskey and regretfully his tolerance for it was not something they shared now. She catches Johnny’s crooked teasing smile before he takes the cup and bottle, swaggering over to her couch.

She wonders if he has noticed that — that they have bled into each other like ink on a soaked page. It is no coincidence that Vera has suddenly developed the ability to write with her left hand. And gained an affinity for shitty 2020s alternative rock.

Vera doesn’t bring her cup with her but follows him and sinks onto the couch with him, folding her long legs underneath her.

“So, where have you been?”

Johnny leans against the back of the couch, long silver arm stretching over the back and mirrors her so their bodies are turned towards each other. He takes a thoughtful sip and Vera fights the urge to roll her eyes. Always one for the dramatics. Though, it’s not like she can judge. Her annoyance with him has simpered to a warm, idle irritation. Something born more out of habit and unfortunate fondness for the asshole.

“Explorin’ the city. Seein’ what’s changed-” he begins. He points at her. “On my own terms. You were a good tour guide, V but-

“So…getting fucked up,” Vera continues with a wry smile.

Johnny laughs and sets his drink down, “Little bit of that too.”

“Why are you here, Johnny?” she finds herself asking, resting her cheek on her fist.

“Realized we never celebrated,” he tells her, relaxing back with a satisfied grunt and aims his eyes at her. “Got our bodies, our lives. Hell, I can’t figure anything better to drink to.”

“We got lucky,” Vera tells him as both a grateful praise and a truthful warning. The cautious paranoia she has adopted has nothing to do with his influence that’s for sure.

“When’d you become so pessimistic,” Johnny scoffs. “What happened to my favorite starry-eyed little merc?”

Vera avoids his eyes, stares down at a scratch in her coffee table. Her manicured nails play with the studs in her ear.

“You miss me?”

Johnny’s voice comes as a surprise, thick and sticky with emotion. When she looks up, he’s staring right at her, studying her face. Vera’s chest tightens. Maybe he does feel that itch, the unfamiliar and haunting foreignness of being alone in the silence of a room. The lingering touch of someone else on the soul.

“You wish,” she teases dryly but the tightness in her throat prevents it from packing the intended punch. Vera reaches out for the bottle because suddenly that burn seems all the more appealing. It’s easier the second time around but she still can’t help the little twist her face does. He takes the bottle from her, again without comment. This time, however, his face looks serious and inquisitive.

Instead of prodding, filling the silence with words she waits patiently. It’s a hard habit to break but she’s getting better at it.

“Fuck,” Johnny grunts, leaning forward to rub the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Feel like I’m goin’ insane.”

Vera watches him — the fall of his hair in a dark curtain around his face, the curve of his back in the black t-shirt he’s wearing. The couch dips with the shift of his weight and it hits her again like it always does. She could reach out and touch him right now.

“I keep tryin’ to talk to you,” Johnny says in disbelief. “Keep forgetting I’m not in your head anymore.”

She lets out a breath of relief.

“Me too.”

Vera’s lips curve into a tight-lipped smile, “Keep doing shit just to piss you off so you’ll talk to me.”

Johnny laughs at that. Well and truly laughs, deep in his belly. Vera isn’t sure she’s ever heard him laugh like that. It’s awfully contagious because pretty soon she is laughing with him.

“Been chewing on that fucking gum you chomp on,” Johnny tells her, snapping his ‘ganic fingers together. “Fuck what is it-”

“Cherrygasm?” Vera grins.

“Shit, yeah,” Johnny says, shaking his head and leaning back against the couch. “Get antsy if I don’t taste that teeth-rotting shit. Got me to quit smokin’ at least.”

Vera lets out an uncharacteristic snort, “Well, shit, I started.”

“Ah, V…” Johnny begins.

She gasps and clamps her hand on his shoulder, sitting up onto her knees in excitement, “Don’t tell me The Johnny Silverhand is about to lecture me on smoking right now.”

Johnny’s hand cups the back of her thigh and moves it to the other side of his waist. Vera blinks dumbly down at him, her hands held up in front of her, limp and awkward. The two stare at each other for a moment but Johnny’s chrome hand doesn’t leave her bare skin. God, he almost looks...scared shitless.

Her voice is tight and quiet when she speaks.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Vera’s lips are on his. It’s rough, sudden and desperate as he responds in kind. A frantic kind of want starts to burn in her belly. Johnny is solid. Warm. Real. Her fingers sliding into his hair, Johnny grasping at her ass with bruising eagerness and flips her onto her back. He’s over top of her, around her.

Her thighs spread so his slim hips can settle between them. Johnny’s hand tightens around her thigh and he grinds into her through the soft fabric of her shorts. A little sound leaves her mouth that she can’t manage to swallow. He smells like shitty motel soap and his tongue tastes like fucking bubblegum just like he said. Their frantic hands both war with her shirt for a moment, pulling in every which way as they scramble to get it off.

Vera is exposed to the chill of her apartment, colorful tattoos spread over her heavy breasts, her stomach and the curves of her hips.

He is touching her, touching with long calloused fingers and chilled chrome; and is it a surprise she whines when he pinches her nipple between his silver fingers? Her head swims as it tries to grasp onto reality. Johnny’s warm mouth latches over her other breast with the kind of messy hot licks that make her squirm.

“Fuck,” she breathes, arching up into his mouth as he sucks greedily at her skin. Her breast, her collarbone, her stomach. Johnny nips at skin and soothes away the sting with a hot tongue.

Vera tugs roughly at his hair enough to make him groan deep in his chest. Is this what she has been aching for? To have him inside of her again?

“Johnny,” she huffs impatiently, losing grip on the back hem of his shirt when he shifts to lick and bite at the one of the pistols on her hips. Almost angered by the interruption, he moves up onto his knees and tears his shirt off over his head. Vera’s hands grab him, pull him back down to her. She needs to feel him. The solid weight of his body, the brush of the hair on his chest over her sensitive nipples, the ragged border of his shoulder where skin meets metal.

Johnny licks at her neck, loves roughly at her sensitive skin. Vera lets out another keen of impatience, rolling up against him as he rocks against her through their pants. Then he’s down again, trailing long tails of heat with his tongue.

She’s about to tell him to stop fucking around when he lifts her legs and yanks her shorts off in a swift motion.

“Fuck,” he groans, only giving himself a breath to gaze over her before tossing her legs over his shoulders. A happy purr of pride burns through her chest at that. Johnny buries himself between her thighs. Vera’s hand reaches overhead and grabs the edge of a velvet cushion as he covers her with his mouth and laps eagerly at her.

A moan, a breath-

She presses him between her legs with a hand on the back of his head, tangling again in the silk strands of black hair. Her body shudders, heat having hit her like a truck, burning through her body. Johnny’s tongue drags the small amount of wetness that has gathered at her opening and licks it all over her cunt. His hands grab her hips and yanks her closer to him, her ass lifted a little into his arms.

He lets her hips rock up against his tongue desperately but his clenched fist on her thigh that will surely bruise tells her that he normally does not allow this. Blinding pleasure aches through her all the way to her fingertips. Pretty moans and gasped whimpers offered to the room. It drowns out the news reporter babbling away on the radio.

Vera’s concerns and thoughts of past, future and present have been lost to her frantic train of thought.. It is only the two of them again. It is only Johnny between her legs flicking his talented tongue over her and pressing two warm fingers inside. Vera lets out a breathless, broken moan and bears down on them, her knuckles white as she grasps at the cushions and his hair in an effort to ground herself.

She wants to be filled, wants him, wants more, more, more.

Her chest is tight, her body is crying for it, begging for him and-

Vera’s lips only manage the first syllable of his name as her release crashes through her like a booming stroke of thunder. She moans loudly to the ceiling, her ankles locking together between Johnny’s shoulder blades. This is when he presses her down, holds her to the Earth, while she keens and groans deep in her chest for him.

Johnny doesn’t wait till she’s finished before prying her thighs away from his head and scrambling to settle above her. Her mind is a pleasured daze as he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to pull himself from the tight pleather. It’s good he doesn’t wait because he’s big when he slides into her, her cunt giving way to him in one stroke with how slick she is. Johnny lavishes his tongue over her ear, his breath hot and his hands greedy, touching and grabbing at any part of her he can reach.

Vera wraps herself around him — legs hitched up around his waist, arms around his middle. It feels as if she can’t seem to get her breath back but it’s alright because Johnny’s got her, fuck he’s got her in his arms and he’s inside her. She buries her face into his neck and thinks about how much she doesn’t want to let go of him. Vera cannot let go of anyone. Cannot give up. How many times has he called her stubborn?

Johnny grinds into her; stretches her and licks at her collarbone to smooth the dull sting inside of her. It’s been a long time for her and maybe he remembers that. Memories of hers she didn’t keep too well guarded— far too preoccupied with other parts of her psyche she didn’t want anyone to touch.

He grunts into her skin, bruising grip still on her hip and starts to fuck her hard. He stays seated within her, content not to draw himself out of her tightness. Johnny’s thrusts are hard and quick and shallow, leaving her breathless. Vera concludes that if he stops and leaves her aching and empty she would shatter.

Johnny starts groaning and huffing, breathing V and then Vera and then baby and it could be the force of his pace but she swears she feels him shaking in her arms.

He tightens, stills and grunts a slur of profanities against her neck before he relaxes against her.

Vera starts to chase her breath, staring at the cracks in her ceiling while his weight settles on top of her. It is quiet except for their breaths and the continued drone of the radio. Vera tries to latch onto the words but she can’t seem to make sense of them at the moment, heart pounding in her ears. The two of them, sticky chests pressed together and breathing in an awkward, frantic tandem. Her fingers slide up over his shoulders and back into his hair, his breath hot and wet as it beats against her neck.

Johnny doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon but she still keeps her arms around him, even if her legs have fallen back apart like jelly noodles.

When he finally picks his head up, her breathing has returned to normal. The edges of his hair are damp with sweat when she combs it from his face.

“You good?” Johnny asks her. She isn’t looking in his eyes, a burn of intimacy blooming in her chest that is hard to bear.

“Yeah,” Vera nods and aches when they disentangle themselves from each other. Vera reaches down and snatches up his t-shirt, tugging it on to cover herself. Johnny instead kicks his pants off the rest of the way and sprawls naked on her couch. There is a long and tender moment of silence between them, Johnny watching her curl her legs under her, tucking herself into the curved corner of the couch.

She reaches over the back to grab her half-empty box of smokes. Vera holds her lighter in her shaking hands and lights it with just a bit of difficulty. The burning drag feels good, settles the nerves that are bounding in her body; heart still pounding under his gaze.

Satisfaction. A heart-rending something she still does not want to name and thinks she might not have to. Loneliness, an empty ache with him so far away — though it may just be a foot or two in reality. Guilt too.

“I’m leaving.”

“Fuck, I know it wasn’t bad,” Johnny jokes and smirks lazily. It falls when she doesn’t chide him or smile back at him. Vera takes another shaky drag.

“Joining the Aldecaldos when they leave for Arizona. We leave in two days.”

Vera is an expert now in catching the quick strike of hurt in his features. No matter the words he slings at her she can see it and that fucking scares him. Vera knows because it scares the shit out of her too.

“Spit it out,” Vera huffs in irritation, anxiously flicking the ashes from the cig.

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs with a shake of his head, “Why in the fuck would you wanna live the rest of your life with tarmac rats, eatin’ sand and-”

“It’s my fucking life, Johnny,” Vera snaps angrily, forcefully flicking more embers into the ashtray she pulled into her lap. “Finally. Just mine.”

Vera laughs breathlessly and shakes her head in disbelief.

“This city ate us alive. We are lucky to even be sitting here,” Vera tells him forcefully, her finger raised in accusation.

“Be fucking smarter next time then. You’re really going to give up? Let all of them-”

“All of who?!” Vera exclaims. “Arasaka? Millitech? Petrochem? NCPD?”

She stands, almost stumbling in her anger. The ashtray clatters onto the table. Johnny sits back and glares at her, watching her body curl in fury.

“Never thought you’d be a fucking pussy, V,” he snarls, yanking his pants back on when he stands.

“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” V breathes, staring up at him. There is a softness to her body, her voice — not of defeat but of exhaustion. “Johnny, this city takes . That’s all it does. It gives nothing. It took you. It took me. It took-”

Jackie. Evelyn. Her mother-

Vera leans over, blowing a column of smoke from the corner of her mouth and stubs out the cigarette.

“For some fucking reason we have another chance. I’m not going to waste it throwing my bloody corpse against a fucking wall like every promise this city makes isn’t a fucking lie .”

Johnny’s jaw is tight but he doesn’t speak. It’s how Vera knows there are no more walls he can throw up.

“A new start. It’s more than any dirtgirl from Heywood could ask for,” Vera tells him.

“Okay,” he tells her with a shrug.

“Okay?”

“Both know you won’t listen to me anyway,” Johnny grunts, arms crossing over his chest. A flippant flick of his hand. Still, there is something in his resolution. Something bittersweet and maudlin. Her body swims with the same ache.

She kisses him again, softer this time, arms threading around his waist. It isn’t long before Johnny lifts her into his arms.

Vera’s apartment is darkened save for the warm glow of a lamp and the ever-present neon flicker outside her window. One of her neighbors is playing some music that booms through the walls, into her stomach. A bright green and yellow light dances over Johnny’s face, cuts sharp lines into his cheeks. She refuses to let him take a drag of her cigarette, the pair of them tangled in sweaty sheets on her bed.

Vera leans her cheek against the side of his chest, staring up at the ceiling. He has an arm looped around her and she can’t resist playing idly running her thumb over each of his fingers.

“Panam and I are going to say goodbye to the city. Sunset on that bridge in Westbrook. Two days.”

They both know why she’s mentioning it.

The silent dark of the apartment swallows their silence.

Two days later, Vera is bathed in sunset glow as she says her farewells to the city skyline. A tangle of emotions ache in her chest but the heaviness is peeling from her shoulders like a bad sunburn. Panam had told her to take a long look. She left Vera with a reassuring touch on the shoulder and an understanding Vera had only found a handful of times before.

Johnny had left her apartment that morning after without waking her. Neither of them were really equipped for goodbyes anyway. How did you say goodbye to someone who knew you like that? Vera felt untethered, light and bittersweet. Despite herself, when she closed her eyes she could still feel the ache of tears pressing forth. A few fell freely, quickly swept away by a manicured finger.

So lost in fighting back the well of emotion in her chest, Vera doesn’t hear the car until it comes roaring around the last curve in the hills. The tarmac waves with heat, the shiny silver metal reflecting sunrays into her eyes. She squints against the brightness and eyes the red racing stripe that cuts across the back half of the car.

It rumbles to a stop at the curb. Too far away, Vera decides, pushing off the half-wall she had leaned her height against. She is already taking long strides — that might have been a jog if her legs were shorter — when the driver ducks out of the car and loops around to the hood.

“Just so you know,” Johnny begins, arms crossed, leaning back against his Porsche. “I get sand in my asscrack once and I’m leaving-”

“Johnny,” Vera huffs, pulling him down for a hard, messy kiss once she reaches him. An arm loops loosely around her waist, tugging her closer. Against his lips, she lets out a satisfied sigh, a beautiful, peaceful smile gracing her features in sharp contrast to the annoyed, fond tone that leaves her lips. “Stop talking.”

Johnny smirks lazily and straightens with a grunt.

“Know I can’t do that V.”

#johnny silverhand #johnny x v #johnny silverhand x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #emily! stop using em dashes! enough!#:) no #writing*#ship: you're in my veins #i can't believe i actually wrote like at least....something sort of productive #i'd say read this on ao3 it's long and i haven't checked the formatting of it on tumblr i just wanna post

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dawntrailing · 3 years

Photo

PART ONE —

Sentence starters inspired by the Ul’dah Main Scenario Quests. Lines have been altered slightly for roleplaying purposes.

There're more important things than fortune an' glory.

What was it that first attracted you to it?

I have my own interests, see─an' I ain't afraid to use force to serve 'em.

They say war is a gift to peddlers─need breedin' profit─an' though it shames me to say it, I'm inclined to agree.

An' here's where we part ways.

Here, I want you to have this─by way of thanks for puttin' up with me prattle.

Fresh off the carriage, by any chance?

Before you go chargin' off to find your fortune, I've a few basic tasks I'd like you to perform.

You might say that everythin's for sale here as long as you've got the gil.

Just make sure as you don't pay more than you ought.

There's plenty as won't scruple to swindle unsuspectin' foreigners like yourself, 'specially if they think no one's lookin' out for their best interests.

I'm givin' you this letter.

There're more than a few unsavory characters out there who'll try to take advantage of you.

A lot of folk are lured to this city by the promise of wealth and power.

What many of 'em fail to realize is that instead of chasin' after gil the moment they get here, they ought to be makin' friends.

Let it be known that you're willin' to give as much as you get and opportunities will come your way.

It's past time you got goin'.

Oh, and let me know when you've finished, will you?

I won't spend my days worryin' that you're down to your smallclothes without a gil to your name.

I do so relish the opportunity to make that jest.

The look on your face was absolutely priceless!

I pray you found that informative.

What? You expect me to do it for free!? Surely you jest.

I rather doubt you could afford my services, but the fact you offer nothing is laughable.

Consider yourself fortunate to have such influential friends.

I shall be brief, and you shall be attentive.

Anything a man could ever desire can be purchased here provided as he has sufficient funds.

Surely there's something you seek?

Do try to remain aloof should you find something that piques your interest.

Decisions made in the heat of the moment are usually unwise, especially where coin is concerned.

That is all the complimentary aid you shall have from me and far too much for my taste.

Tell me, are you new to the thrills of mortal combat?

You must endure cuts and bruises beyond counting, and like as not far worse.

If you desire true glory -- to fight and triumph, 'midst the roar of ten thousand voices -- then this is where you belong.

Think of it. Think of your legacy. And if your soul stirs... join us.

I've told this tale a thousand times, but gods, it never fails to fan the flames of my fighting spirit!

It is fate that has guided your steps here this day, friend.

I see that you harbor arcane ambitions... though your journey has scarcely begun.

The dweomers employed in the preparation of the dead are equally efficacious when applied to the living.

It is for this reason that I am feared and respected in equal measure.

Wanderin' around aimlessly don't pay the bills.

If you're serious about makin' a livin' here, you'll need to remember where things are.

When you go explorin', explore like you've got a purpose, eh?

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv: a realm reborn #rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Eggs and Pollywogs

This is the final ficlet I’ll be posting for my Nixie AU. Not because I won’t write anything else for it or anything like that, but because I’m going to be focusing my writing attention for the Nixie AU into making a multichap! I’m hoping to finish a couple of my WIPs before I start posting the Nixie AU multichap (which I’m titling “Amphibious Tendencies”), so it might be a little while. But I’m excited to clean up and expand my lil ficlets and make it into a multichap.

But I was already working on this ficlet, and since the last one ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, I finished this up so that y’all could have some Quality Egg Content. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Water splashed Stan’s face. He sat up, spluttering.

“Good. Yer with us,” Fiddleford said flatly. Stan wiped the water out of his eyes. “Yer lil faintin’ spell made Angie cry.”

“Fidds, that’s a lie!” Angie protested.

“You cried.”

“I have a lot of emotions right now,” Angie argued. Stan got to his feet. Angie reached for his hand. She brushed her thumb across his fingers. “You all right, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I think- I think I am.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. He swallowed. “So, uh, the egg in the jar, it’s-”

“Your offspring, yes,” Ford said. At some point while Stan was passed out, Ford had obtained the jar and was looking intently at the egg floating within it. “Hmm. I wonder if all nixie eggs are this cherry blossom color.”

“Cherry blossom? Ford, it’s fucking pink,” Stan said.

“I was specifying the shade of pink.”

“Whatever.” Stan turned his attention back to Angie. “Did you- did you lay it or something?” Angie nodded. “That had to have sucked.” Angie laughed softly.

“It most certainly did. I wouldn’t have disappeared fer so long fer no reason.”

“I suspect that it should hatch in a handful of months,” Ford interjected. “Shorter than the regular human gestation of nine months, but longer than the regular frog gestation of a month or two at most.” Angie rolled her eyes.

“I know how long it takes frog eggs to hatch, Stanford. I’ve got a doctorate in herpetology.”

“Thank god,” Stan muttered. “We’re gonna need your expert smarts when the kid hatches.” He grimaced. “My kid’s gonna hatch from an egg.”

“I’m sorry,” Angie said quietly.

“Why?”

“Yer kid’s goin’ to hatch from an egg ‘cause I’m the mother.”

“You being the mom is a good thing, Ang. I’m glad I’m having a kid with you,” Stan said. Angie smiled.

“Did you lay any others?” Ford asked. Angie sighed.

“No. Just the one.”

“Odd. Water sprites like nixies tend to spawn. Maybe you only laid one because it has a human for a father. Or maybe because you aren’t a full-blooded nixie.”

“Spawn,” Stan croaked, his voice cracking.

“Okay, that’s it.” Angie took the jar from Ford.

“Hey! I was examining that!”

“‘That’ happens to be my child,” Angie snarled. “You can examine my baby when I say it’s okay. And right now, my child, my boyfriend, and I are goin’ to find somewhere private. It’s darn difficult to have a serious conversation about us bein’ parents with ya interruptin’ every minute.”

-----

Stan and Angie walked down the dock. It was the middle of the day, so they weren’t alone at the lake, but they had decided it was still a better place to talk than the house. They sat down at the end of the dock, their legs dangling over the edge.

“Can I, uh, can I see the egg?” Stan asked quietly. Angie handed over the jar. Stan removed the lid to look more closely at his unborn child.

Not really unborn. She’s gonna hatch, so, unhatched, I guess.

“Are you all right?” Angie asked, just as quiet as Stan. Stan nodded.

“Yeah. I’m just, uh, trying to, y’know, come to terms with this. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to have kids with you, since you’re a frog,” he said. Angie chuckled softly. “And now…now I’m gonna have a daughter.”

“Wait. Daughter?” Angie asked.

“The egg’s pink. It’s gonna be a girl,” Stan said, matter-of-fact. Angie stared at him. “You’ve heard of pink going with girls and blue going with boys before, right?”

“I- yes, but I highly doubt that’ll translate in this way,” Angie said.

“I’ve got a feeling about it.”

“Hmm.”

“My gut feelings are never wrong, Ang,” Stan said firmly. “We’re gonna have a little girl.”

“Well, there is a 50% chance yer right,” Angie said after a moment. She reached for Stan’s hand and laced her fingers with his. “Do ya have any idea what names ya like?”

“Molly,” Stan said immediately. Angie quirked a small smile.

“Ya had that one locked and loaded.”

“I’ve wanted to be a dad since I was a teenager. I’ve thought about what I wanna name my kids,” Stan said with a shrug. Angie’s smile broadened.

“I like Molly, too. And if the lil one turns out to be a boy…”

“It’s a girl.”

“Ya don’t want to hear what I think we should name our son?” Angie asked.

“I mean, it’s not necessary, but go for it.”

“I was thinkin’ we could name him after you. Stan Junior.”

“I- you- you wanna name your kid after me?” Stan croaked. Angie leaned against him.

“Our kid, darlin’. Not mine. Ours. Why wouldn’t he be named after his father?” she said tenderly. Tears sprang to Stan’s eyes. He brushed them away roughly.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, that sounds- that sounds good.” Angie stroked Stan’s cheek. “I don’t think we should still be living with Fidds and Ford when the kid hatches.”

“I reckon yer right ‘bout that.” Angie’s eyes widened. “Oh! So, durin’ my time explorin’ the lake, I stumbled across somethin’ incredible.”

“What?”

“There’s some nice-lookin’ caves behind the falls. There’s plenty of room fer a full fam’ly to live there. And there’s even some natural pools of water fer eggs or nixies to sleep in.”

“Huh.” Stan thought on that for a moment. “We wouldn’t have to pay rent.”

“Nope.” Angie rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know if it’s a good long-term solution, but I think it’s definitely a decent one fer right now.”

“Yeah, and it’s better than living with our brothers…” Stan grinned at Angie. “I think that we can live in a cave like frogs.”

Angie beamed.

-----

Stan watched anxiously as Ford removed the egg from its jar to examine it. Every instinct he had was screaming to rip the egg out of Ford’s hands. Ford gently set the egg into a bowl of water.

“She’s getting very large,” Ford commented. Angie rolled her eyes.

“Really? You, too?”

“The egg is the color associated with femininity.”

“Assignin’ pink ‘n blue to gender is a human construct, Stanford,” Angie said shortly. She, Stan, and Ford were in the basement lab at the house, where Ford and Angie were making their regular observations tracking the egg’s development. Angie was the one who suggested that Ford track the egg’s development with her, an opportunity he jumped at.

“I suppose we’ll find out when she hatches.” Ford carefully turned the egg over. Stan winced. “You’ll need a larger jar to transport her soon.” Angie sighed.

“Here’s the thing. I can’t find any bigger jars. I think that this is the last time I’ll be able to bring the egg over. From now on, it’ll have to stay in the cave pool.”

“Nope!” a voice said. Everyone looked over. Fiddleford had arrived, carrying something. He strode over to Angie. “I whipped somethin’ up fer ya.” He handed the item to Angie. She looked it over doubtfully.

“Uh, a tote bag?” Angie asked. Fiddleford chuckled.

“That’s just one of its uses. It’s multi-functional, o’ course.”

“Of course,” Stan muttered. Fiddleford ignored him.

“Think of it as a portable version of the tank I made fer ya. When ya zip up the top, it’ll keep water in perfectly, without any spillin’. Ya can carry it over yer shoulder, on yer back, or even on yer front.” Angie looked up curiously. Fiddleford beamed. “That’s the best part, I think. If ya wear it on yer front and tuck it under yer clothes, it’ll give the impression yer expectin’.”

“That’s actually a great idea,” Stan said. “Angie and I have been getting a bit worried about people noticing we have a kid when she was never pregnant.” He waved a hand. “Sure, adoption exists, but there’s no way the kid won’t have either my nose or Angie’s. She’s gonna look like us.”

“Thank you, Fidds,” Angie said. She smiled. “This really is great.” Fiddleford’s smile broadened further.

“Speaking of which traits your daughter is going to get…” Ford said slowly. Fiddleford frowned.

“What makes ya think the pollywog’s goin’ to be a girl?” he asked. Angie sighed.

“Stan and Ford are stuck on the egg bein’ pink.”

“Stanford, that don’t mean jack.”

“In my professional opinion-” Ford started, his voice rising.

“What were ya goin’ to say about traits?” Angie interrupted.

“I- ahem.” Ford cleared his throat. “I wonder which traits from which forms will pass down.” Angie frowned thoughtfully.

“Elaborate.”

“In your native form, you are blonde, like Fiddleford,” Ford said, gesturing to Angie’s caramel-colored hair. Stan rolled his eyes.

“The guy who said my kid’s egg is ‘cherry blossom’ thinks Angie and Fiddleford have the same hair color,” he muttered. Ford blinked.

“They’re both blonde.”

“Yeah, but in different ways.”

“Stanford, ignore him,” Fiddleford said. “Finish yer thought, please.”

“Right. As I was saying, Angie, you are blonde when in human form, but as a nixie, you have black hair. I’m curious as to whether your daughter will have black hair or blonde hair as a human.”

“Or brown hair,” Angie said. Ford frowned.

“Why would she have brown hair?” he asked. Stan cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Dumbass, I’m the kid’s dad!” he shouted.

“Ah. Yes. Fair point.” Ford looked at Stan with some concern. “Are you all right?”

“No, my genius brother is an idiot,” Stan retorted, crossing his arms.

“Not-” Ford huffed. “Your voice sounds…off. Do you have a frog in your throat?”

“That’s racist,” Angie mumbled.

“I mean, I don’t have a frog in my throat right now,” Stan said. Fiddleford and Angie turned beet red. After a moment, Ford flushed as well. Stan snickered. “Nah, I think that I’m just getting used to living behind the waterfall.”

“Why would that alter your voice?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged.

“I mean, I haven’t been able to fully dry off since we moved there. Don’t you get sick if you stay wet?”

“Not necessarily,” Ford said.

“He’s fine,” Angie said. “Can we please finish lookin’ at the egg? I’m eager to try this here bag Fidds made.”

“Yes, of course.” Ford and Angie turned their attention back to the egg. Fiddleford joined them as well. Stan leaned against the wall, deciding to observe from a distance. He uncrossed an arm to scratch his neck, unaware of the thin slime that briefly oozed from the itch.

-----

“Stan!” Stan looked up from his attempts to shave, using one of the cave pools as a mirror. Angie beamed broadly at him. “C’mere!” Stan wiped his face clean, got up, and joined Angie at the pool she had designated for the egg. “Look!” She pointed at the egg.

“Uh, what am I looking at?” Stan asked.

“The lil pollywog is swimmin’ in the egg!” Angie gushed. Stan sat down and leaned in to look closely at the egg. His eyes widened. Sure enough, the dark speck inside the egg was moving. “I reckon it’s a bit like when someone pregnant first feels their baby kickin’.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d say that we’ve only got a couple months ‘fore the lil one hatches.”

“Wow, that soon?”

“Yep.”

“Damn.” Stan smiled as he watched the tadpole swimming around inside its egg. “Holy Moses, I’m gonna be a dad soon,” he said quietly. His eyes widened. “I’m gonna be a dad, but I’m not married.”

“Oh,” Angie said, sounding surprised. “That’s right. We ain’t married.”

“We should probably do that at some point,” Stan said. Angie laughed softly. “What?”

“I’m just imaginin’ my fam’ly gettin’ invitations to a wedding where they haven’t even heard of the groom ‘fore.”

“Wait.”

“Oh. Oh no.” Stan and Angie stared at each other. “I never told my fam’ly ‘bout ya.”

“We’ve been dating for months! We’re gonna be parents soon!”

“I- well-” Angie spluttered. “Have you told yer fam’ly ‘bout me?” she shot back.

“Touché. But you talk to your family a lot more than I talk to mine.”

“Yeah.” Angie rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “There’s just- a lot has happened very quickly. We first met a lil over a year ago, ‘member?”

“That was only a year ago?”

“A bit more,” Angie corrected.

“Still.” Stan looked back at the egg. “Damn. We moved fast.”

“Apparently.” Angie groaned, kneading her forehead. “Oh, Lord. They’re all goin’ to blow their gaskets.”

“Especially when you mention the kid,” Stan pointed out. Angie groaned louder. “I wonder how easily we’ll be able to get the kid to look human…” After a moment, Angie nodded.

“Good point. Maybe we wait to mention we have a child until that child can hide its gills.”

-----

Stan scowled as he watched Lute stare at the egg. Angie had called her family to let them know she had a serious boyfriend about a month ago. Earlier that week, her older brother, Lute, had showed up determined to find out Stan’s “intentions” with his younger sister. Before Stan knew what was happening, Lute had discovered Angie was a nixie, as well as the existence of the egg.

And now, he’s in my home, gaping at my unhatched kid like it’s the star freak in a sideshow. Stan cleared his throat.

“All right, are you satisfied?” he asked tartly. Lute nodded, still staring at the egg. “Great. Now-”

“Is it s’pposed to be movin’?” Lute interrupted. Everyone looked over at the egg. Sure enough, it was rocking back and forth in the small pool. Stan looked at Angie. Her eyes were wide. She quickly got into the pool with the egg.

“Are you all right, honey?” she asked quietly, stroking the egg. The egg rocked more violently as the tadpole pushed against the membrane. Then, before their eyes, a tear formed. “Oh my- oh my goodness.” The tadpole slid out of the egg, into the water. Stan fell to his knees by the side of the pool.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. Ford, Fiddleford, and Lute knelt as well.

“I think we just watched our new niece or nephew get born,” Ford commented. The freshly hatched tadpole, the size of a human newborn, was swimming happily around the pool. Unlike Angie, whose nixie skin was green, the tadpole had mottled brown skin, and, like a regular tadpole, had a tail instead of legs. “Angie, is your child male or female?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” Angie said after a moment. She caught the tadpole with her arms, hugging it close. “Determining sex of amphibians isn’t easy to do.” Stan sat down and dangled his legs in the pool.

“C’mere, Ang.” Angie came over, still holding the tadpole. Stan looked down at his child, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Most of the tadpole’s features in nixie form were very similar to Angie’s. There were a couple differences, namely that the tadpole’s nose looked like Angie’s human one, not her nixie one. The only other difference aside from skin color, was the tadpole’s eye color. Brown, not blue. Stan smiled.

The kid’s got my eyes.

“Hey, kiddo,” Stan said quietly. The tadpole looked up at him curiously. “I might be a human, but I’m still your dad, got it?” The tadpole blinked. “Good work, babe. The kid’s just as gorgeous as you are.” Angie chuckled softly. Stan leaned over and kissed her. The moment his lips touched Angie’s, a strange prickling sensation spread across Stan’s skin.

“What in the-” Lute muttered. Ford swore softly. Stan broke off the kiss to look at their audience.

“What, you’ve never seen a guy kiss his gal?” he demanded. His eyes widened at the suddenly much lower pitch to his voice, as well as the change in tone. Fiddleford and Lute’s jaws dropped.

“Ya don’t sound like a smoker no more,” Lute said after a moment. He gestured to Stan. “Maybe it has somethin’ to do with whatever just happened to yer skin.”

“My skin?” Stan looked down at his hands. His jaw dropped. His skin was soft and slimy like Angie’s, mottled brown like their tadpole’s. “Uh…”

“I warned you, Stanley,” Ford said. Stan looked up at his twin. To his surprise, Ford looked more amused than upset. “I warned you that if you continued to interact with Angie in nixie form, you would become a magical creature yourself.”

“That’s what just happened?” Lute asked. “But he don’t look anything like Angie or the, uh, the pollywog! His skin and voice changed, that’s all.”

“Okay, I need to get a good look at myself,” Stan muttered. Angie scooted away so that Stan could use the pool to look at his reflection. Stan leaned over, staring at the water. Like Lute had said, his features had remained the same, though his skin was now of the same texture as Angie and the tadpole. His face and the front of his body were a pale brown, with dark brown mottling around his sides. “I look like the missing link between myself and Angie.” Angie snickered softly.

“This is just an intermediate stage,” Ford said. “I have no doubts that you’ll soon complete your transformation into a nixie.”

“Huh.” Stan looked up at Angie. “Guess you don’t get to hog all the fresh bait now.”

“Pardon?” Lute asked. Stan looked over his shoulder.

“You’re still here?” he drawled. Lute scowled.

“Stan’s got a point,” Angie said. “Would the three of you mind leaving us alone for some quality time with our little pollywog?” Ford, Fiddleford, and Lute got up.

“Ya best bring that lil one of ya over first thing tomorrow, okay?” Fiddleford instructed. Stan waved a hand airily, noting absently that thin webbing stretched between his otherwise unchanged fingers.

“Yeah, yeah. Now, beat it.” Their brothers left. Stan looked at Angie. He winked. “Hey, babe.” Angie giggled. Stan removed his clothes and slid into the pool with Angie. Angie, still holding the tadpole, scooted over to be next to Stan.

“Given your color and the little one’s color, I wonder if our kidlet might be a boy,” Angie said, stroking the tadpole.

“Are you sure?”

“No. But it’s our best lead. So until we have some other piece of evidence, should we call the kidlet our son?” Angie asked. Stan grinned.

“I’ve always wanted a son, so, I’m down for it.”

“Hmm, or maybe you’re just happy because the name we came up with for a boy was Stan Junior,” Angie teased. She kissed his cheek. Stan felt another strange tingling, but this time, concentrated around his hands and feet. He looked down at his hands. They were now large and webbed like Angie’s. “Whoops.”

“Eh. I’m gonna turn all nixie at some point,” Stan said with a shrug. He looped an arm around Angie’s shoulders. She leaned against him. Stan stroked his son’s bald head. “Junior, I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. Angie smiled.

“So am I.”

#I'm sooooooo excited to turn this into a multichap y'all have no idea #but I'm going to finish at least one WIP before then. maybe two. we'll see. I've got some irons in the fire at the moment #(btw yes. Stan does pass out after he sees the egg that is his kid lmao)#Nixie AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #Stangie #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #(btw the things that are mentioned to have occurred but don't actually appear in the ficlet?#I'll be writing those things and scenes out for the multichap #just in case anyone was wondering why there are a few more summaries than I usually do in my writes)

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