#Bristle Flies

[rattyexplores]

Absolutely gigantic Rutilia fly spotted in the rainforest.

04/12/23 - Rutilia sp.

QLD:WET - Rainforest nursery

[ljsbugblog]

Unknown Bristle fly (family Tachninidae).

[bugsoupforthesoul]

Ptilodexia sp -- Bristle Fly (Family Tachinidae)

This funky fellow stood out very quickly, with its size (see aphids for reference) and long spindly legs, and loved these black eyed susans. I had never seen one before! The genus is an educated guess, but this fly is still very cool whether I know what it is or not!

[whatnext10]

Bristleflies are Great Pollinators that Can be Found All Over

Bristles and Stamens Among my favorites in the insect world are the pollinators. Even though bees have probably gotten the most attention as pollinators, there are hundreds of other types of insects, birds, and even some mammals that contribute significantly to the vital process of pollination. Many of them are quite pretty (i.e. butterflies, hummingbirds, etc), but some of them aren’t really.…

[jenfoundabug]

Unknown fly species in the family Tachinidae (bristle flies). While the larvae of most tachinid species are parasitoids (i.e. they kill the host), many adult flies are pollinators!

Pennsylvania

[dolicho-vespula]

A fly posing for me, I think it's a type of flesh fly

edit: it's a bristle fly not a flesh fly

[onenicebugperday]

Bristle (aka tachinid) flies in the genus Eudejeania, Tachinidae

Like all bristle flies, individuals in this genus are parasitoids of arthorpods, primarily other insects. Host depends on species. Found in Central and South America.

Photo 1 by antshrike69, 2 by blackdogto, 3-4 by dawicho, 5 by luchogu, 6 by rogerritt, and 7 by gesnerio,

[ickadori]

Cough cough- I’m gonna need some more yandere Geto- (thank you your fics have kept me alive😭)

[cws] yandere. gn reader -> reader was turned into a curse. mahito being his usual self. took some creative liberties w/getou’s absorbing technique thingamajig.

[an] let’s pretend that kenjaku never possessed getou’s body, okay? okay!

“Why is Getou the only one with a pet?”

“Because you always end up killing yours the moment you get bored.”

Your skin prickles as the attention in the room shifts to you, and you hug your knees tighter to your chest, eyes gazing out at the crashing waves of the beach. Impossible. This should all be impossible - this apartment, these people, these creatures.

It didn’t make any sense, but you had learned to overlook it, somewhat. You had been in Getou’s grasp for years now, and when he had slaughtered the people of your village, that’s when you had first been given a look of the once thought impossible. Monsters —curses, he always corrected— had run rampant through the village, some big and some small, some with razor sharp teeth and some with gums that were coated in some vile acid, some with humanoid bodies and others with bodies so deformed it didn’t seem right to call it a body in the first place.

Your parents and younger siblings had been killed in front of you. Their pained and horrified screams had nearly burst your eardrums, and the way they had reached out for you in their last moments had broken your heart, and then you had died right alongside them.

A curse had sunken its teeth into your throat, and the pain had been like you had never felt before. It had been hot, searing, throbbing, agonizing, and you hadn’t even been able to make a sound besides a bloody gurgle. You had died full of fear, despair, terror, and that’s all you had felt since you had been born again.

Getou called you a ‘curse’, explained the basics to you with a patient smile on his face and an oddly admiring gleam in his eye. He had killed you that night, and the whirlwind of negative emotions you had felt at the moment of your death had regretfully brought you back.

The sound of footsteps approaching you makes your head lift, and you suck in a low breath when you see Mahito’s mismatch eyes peering into your own.

“Hello~” He sings, one hand reaching out to pat the top of your head, and when he gets a giddy look on his face, you know that he’s thinking about using his technique on you, the same technique that you had seen mutilate countless humans. “Getou won’t be back for a while…do you want to have a little fun with me while we wait?”

“Knock it off, Mahito.” A burning hot sphere flies inches from your nose, and you jerk back with a yelp, hand immediately raising to rub to where it had singed your skin. “It’s off limits.” You don’t bristle at the way Jogo refers to you, you had grown used to it over the years. Besides, you preferred a dehumanizing ‘it’ (but you weren’t human anymore, were you?) rather than the pet names that Getou called you. Those are what still got a reaction out of you; a grimace when it was tossed your way in greeting, a shudder when it was accompanied with a touch of his fingers against your skin, and a choked sob when it was breathed into your ear in the dead of night.

“I’m not gonna kill it,” Mahito rolls his eyes, and a pathetic sound leaves you when his fingers curl into your hair and shake your head around. “I’m just gonna play with it — I’m bored, Jogo.”

You find yourself wishing that Getou would come back, despite his suffocating presence whenever he was near, and if the world was finally in your favor, the creak of the front door is heard.

The tight grip that Mahito had on you loosens, and you wince as he pats at your sore scalp, his eyes going over your shoulder. “Getou. You’re back.”

“You sound disappointed, Mahito.” Getou nears, and despite yourself, a wave of relief washes over you, your body slowly inching away from Mahito. You’d prefer Getou over the kill-hungry curse any day, choosing the softer evil over the crueler one. “Were you planning to do something to them in my absence?”

“Nothing permanent.” He giggles, and you finally stand up, half of your body shielded behind Getou as you grip at his robes with shaking hands. You notice that his hair smells nice, as if freshly washed, and your brows furrow when you recognize the scent as one you used to frequently use on yourself. “Just something to entertain me. It’s so boring in here, Getou. Jogo is such a stiff, and Choso only ever talks about his weird brothers.”

Mahito’s voice is whining as he complains, and you watch him with weary eyes, silently urging Getou to hurry and brush him off. The curse was unsettling, always making his interest to cause you harm blatantly clear. You were aware that Getou was the only thing keeping him from you, and as much as it made you sick to do so, you desperately clung onto him whenever Mahito was in the vicinity.

Seeking protection in the man that had slaughtered your entire village, your family. How ironic.

“And this one isn’t boring to you?” Getou’s hand closes around your wrist and then he’s tugging you in front of him, his other hand splaying itself over your stomach as he keeps you still.

“Quite the opposite,” Mahito grins, and you cower back into Getou’s chest when he leans in closer. “I think they’re the cutest, funniest thing—aha, look at their face!” His finger pushes into your cheek.

“Getou,” you’re on the verge of sobbing, and you feel his chest vibrate against your back as he lowly chuckles.

“Getou?” He questions, and when Mahito starts ‘walking’ his fingers down the slope of your neck, his eyes trained on the way your chest rises and falls with your frenzied breaths, your hands fly to where Getou is touching your stomach through your clothing.

“Suguru, please.”

“Such a sweet, powerless thing.” He coos, and then darkness is enveloping your vision as he hunches over you, ink black hair cascading around you and blocking out Mahito. His hand leaves you next, and you tilt your head up, Getou’s eyes meeting your own as he smiles.

His arms tighten around you, the solid muscles hidden behind baggy clothing keeping you pinned against him, and you don’t struggle as he pulls you into him. The process of merging with Getou isn’t a pleasant one, but you find yourself pushing harder against him, Mahito’s voice a distant echo as you become one with the origin of all your griefs.

“I’ll shield you for as long as you need me to.”

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Give 'em the Ol' Razzle-: Hazbin Hotel

-KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!-

Charlie: *gasp* Is that another possible guest?! (Zips to the door and nearly throws it off its hinges)

-Comically large bouquet of roses poofs into Charlie's face-

Charlie: (fights through the thorny petal onslaught) What the Hell???

Seviathan: (smiling in a way that he's been told is charming) Charlotte! It's so good to see you-

Charlie: Nope! (slams the door and walks away, trailing rose petals behind her)

Vaggie: (blinks is confusion) Uh, hun? What was that all about?

Charlie: Nothing to worry about. (Dusts rose petals off her coat in the most monotone way possible) Just my ex-boyfriend at the front door. (Cups her mouth and sings) 🎶Oh, Razzle! Come here, baby boy!🎶

Vaggie: (bristles, pulls out her spear, and pulls her lip back in a snarl) Do I need to take care of him?

Razzle: (flies out of the kitchen with his hooves covered in donuts like doughy rings) Baaaap?

Charlie: No need, Vaggie. Razzle's got this.

Vaggie & Razzle: He does??? / Baaaaap???

-Door slams open against the wall-

Seviathan: Okay, I guess I deserve that. (Dusts off his jacket) Charlotte, can we at least talk this through? I'm willing to take you back, baby girl.

Razzle: (goes wild-eyed as his teeth turn into razors and froth drips from his sugar-coated mouth)

Vaggie: (similar to Razzle, but her wings puff put and make her look 10 times larger)

Charlie: (plastered smile on her otherwise straight face as she pets Razzle's head and snakes an arm around Vaggie's waist) Seviathan, I broke up with you.

Seviathan: And I'm willing to take you back. What part of that is so hard to understand?

Charlie: (blinks and her eyes turn red) Razzle?

Razzle: (practically breathing fire as he gets rabid foam on the floor) BaaAAaaAp?

Charlie: (clicks her tongue three times)

Razzle: (unhinges his jaw, so it's at a perfect 90-degree angle of razor-sharp teeth that start spinning in a clockwise circle like a chainsaw) BAAAAAAAAAAAAROOOOOAARP!!!!

Seviathan: Oh, FUCK!!!! YOU STILL HAVE THOSE DAMN GOATS?!?! (Sprints out of the hotel)

Razzle: (gives chase while bleating sadistically)

Charlie: (leisurely saunters to the open door as her horns elongage and her tail whips back and forth and calls out) Tell Helsa I still think she's a loser bitch with poor taste!

Vaggie: (blushing and in awe) Angel, what do you call it when you're horrified and turned on at the same time?

Angel: (ducked behind the bar with Husk) Horoused?

Vaggie: I am so horoused right now.

[fr3sh-tragedies]

General Headcanons

[Resident Evil Village] Dimitrescu Sisters x Female Reader || Bela Dimitrescu x Female Reader, Cassandra Dimitrescu x Female Reader, Daniela Dimitrescu x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.37k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: None.

[A/N]: Just general, personal headcanons I have of how the girls would be with their partner, as well as just general traits I think they would have. I'll probably add onto this over time when I think of more headcanons.

[A/N] #2: Image credits for Bela and Daniela belong to trippykatsuki on TikTok, and image credit for Cassandra belongs to DigitalZky on NexusMods.

Enjoy!

All

General

I wholeheartedly believe the three of them have fangs–I mean, they’re essentially cannibalistic vampires, so they’d need sharper teeth for tearing and draining/drinking blood (in an easier way)

Definitely love heat, considering their weakness

Will huddle up against each other, their mother, or their partners if they feel even the slightest breeze

Anyone close to them that provides body heat instantly becomes their personal hot water bottle, especially during winter

Y’know how they can control their individual flies / small groups of their flies?

I can totally see them indirectly letting certain ones buzz louder when they get excited or cheerful over something

It’s essentially like they’re purring / vibrating with joy

Like, compliment them? Gift them something they were wanting? Make them feel special in any way?

They’re purring buzzing

Definitely competitive with one another

They’re siblings, after all

They 100% bicker constantly, but they love each other dearly

When they have someone in their life romantically, they all develop this kind of possessive/overprotective tendency. By that, I mean they don’t like to share their lover. They refuse to allow any kind of addition to the relationship–no way will they let a third person become a part of their relationship with their girlfriend

[Individual preferences under the cut]

Bela

General

She’s known as the most cold, levelheaded of her sisters

However, I am a firm believer that she is the most touch-starved of her sisters

She’s constantly seeking praise and approval from her mother, but since she’s held to such a high standard, I get the feeling she worries about not doing enough

Because of this, she’s often buried in paperwork in her study, away from her family

Daniela definitely gives everyone in her family hugs whenever, but that’s all the physical contact she’s likely used to receiving in an affectionate manner

Don’t get me wrong, Alcina absolutely holds her and comforts her physically when she needs it–especially if she and her sisters have barged into her room to ask about sleeping in her bed with her at night–but Bela would probably try to handle her emotions on her own

Doesn’t swoon over fancy gifts, but isn’t against them either

She appreciates them, just worries there’s no practical use for them

Aside from craving physical affection, she undoubtedly loves words of affirmation / praise

Saying the right thing will make her feel all mushy inside, regardless of how well she’s able to hide it

She’s become an expert at winning arguments after having so many with her sisters

You will not win an argument against her

She’s patient and thinks things through, even if it’s something trivial

It’s hard to get her riled up, unless, of course, her family is brought into it in a way she deems as threatening

She’ll still seem relatively calm, but you’d be able to tell when something really got under her skin

She kind of, like, bristles in a way that only those closest to her can notice

Loves all kinds of forms of art

Reading provides a way for her mind to focus and calm down, as well as give her something to bond over with Daniela

Reading also comes in handy when she’s trying to research something or find a way to make something easier

Sketching and painting allows her to spend more time with her mother and be more like her, and it’s clear just how much she admires and loves Alcina

She is 100% a mama’s girl

Sketching specifically gives her a way to visualize things, such as new equipment, experiments, measurements, etc., and it allows her to do so on any surface in front of her

Crafting and sculpting helps connect further with Cassandra, who is more than happy to share tips on creating and designing weapons and small sheaths to fit them in

Designing the weapons on paper is another way she gets to incorporate her sketching skills, as well as fulfill her need to plan things out ahead of time

She loves anything that helps her grow closer to her family

It’s a bonus that those activities also help strengthen her mind

I find her to be the type who loves music. I think she’d know multiple instruments, considering how long she’s been alive, and she’s definitely written her own sheet music on more than one occasion

Willing to try anything more than once, so long as she deems it to be calming or practical

Overall, she loves spending time connecting with her mother and sisters, but it can be hard for her to when she spends so much time working alone in her study

Romantic

Relating to what I said above, I honestly think Bela’s the most inexperienced with romance

She understands how it works, and she knows what’s important for a relationship to be healthy, she just never took much of an interest

Instead, she spends most of her time improving her skills and working under her mother, preparing herself for when she takes over the family winery

You’ll have to be patient with her in the beginning, as she’s not sure what to do with the more physical side of things

Yes, she is touch-starved, but it will still take time for her to adjust if you’re one who likes to cuddle or hug a lot

It’s not really that she’s shy about it, she just isn’t used to it

Once she does finally grow comfortable with it, she’ll start initiating touches herself, albeit very slowly: holding hands when walking around in the garden, linking arms when taking a stroll in the village in the warmer seasons, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek or lips when she feels the moment is right, pulling you into a hug when you want/need it

When she gets even more comfortable with physical touch, she’ll start progressing her boldness: cuddling up together in bed or on a sofa when reading, her kisses and hugs will linger and feel more loving and passionate, and she’ll even hold you and / or spoon against you when sleeping at night

She’ll also find that she loves to do smaller motions such as caress your face, stroke your hair, or trace random patterns on your arms, back, and shoulders

She’s a patient lover, and will do whatever she can to make things work

Slowly, she’ll learn how to get better at expressing her emotions instead of trying to work through them all on her own

Please pull her away from her work more often–poor girl needs to get some sleep

Maybe tell her there’s something you want to try out in the garden or the village like having a picnic or even just visit a friend for lunch

She’ll be stubborn about it, telling you how she needs to finish her work, but if you press her long enough, she’ll give in under the condition that it doesn’t take away too much of her time

So long as she enjoys the evening, however, she won’t be upset with how long she was away from her work

She’ll even thank you the majority of the time

She may accidentally find herself scolding you the way she does with her sisters, but once she catches onto her actions, she’ll quickly draw back and apologize, shifting her tone to speak to you properly

By this, I mean she’ll go from nagging you about something you said or did as if you were a child, the same way she treats her sisters at times, to sitting down with you to talk like rational adults, instead seeming more concerned than annoyed

Speaking of her sisters, she’ll definitely back you up if you somehow find yourself arguing with one of them

As long as you aren’t completely in the wrong, anyway

But sometimes she backs you up just because Cassandra and herself got into an argument recently, or because she just wants to get under Daniela’s skin and tease her a bit

She’ll show interest in your hobbies and might even dabble in a few herself if she hasn’t already

Might even drag you into the room when she’s spending time with her sisters so you can pick up their hobbies as well

She loves learning anything and everything about her partner

Definitely the type to research whatever her partner is interested in / passionate about, so she can share more about it with her and show that she genuinely cares

Dates with her appear simple, but each little factor is carefully planned, including what kind of flowers may be used, what meal is prepared, and even just the color of the outfit she chooses to wear

In short, she absolutely loves and adores her partner, would do anything for her, and is constantly making mental notes on every interest or compliment thrown her way. It takes time for her to get adjusted to the more intimate sides of a relationship, but with patience, she’ll be the kindest and most understanding partner one could have

Cassandra

General

She comes across as aggressive and sadistic to everyone outside of her family, but her sisters and mother know she actually has a much softer side. She just doesn’t like to show it

To me, she comes across as someone who feels like she has to protect her family from any potential threats, ultimately deeming herself as the defender

Still, the sadistic part of her is no joke. She loves to toy with her prey and taunt them all the way up until their dying breath

It thrills her

She and Daniela definitely cause mayhem together, much to Bela and Alcina’s dismay

They’ll often play pranks on their older sister together, laughing hysterically when they both run away from the eldest when she gives chase

When Alcina is scolding her and Daniela, they’ll listen silently, promising to not repeat whatever they pulled

When Bela is scolding them, however, they can’t help but snicker and mock her when she turns around, all in good fun of course. They love Bela and look up to her, but they’re all still sisters, and they don’t try to hide it

As said above in Bela’s section, I–along with plenty of other people in the fandom–believe that Cassandra designs and creates her own collection of weapons

The ones she’s proudest of will end up being displayed on the walls in her room, and the rest will stay in the armory for her to try and improve on later

As well as the groups of weapons in her room, she also keeps collections of her trophies from each of her hunts: skulls, teeth, bones, antlers, etc.

I don’t think she’s as restless as her younger sister Daniela, but I do still find myself picturing her constantly fidgeting with something, whether it be her dress, her necklace, or even her own fingers

Because of this, I feel like she’d pick up other hobbies that would sort of force her to slow down and focus on specific motions

Crocheting, knitting, sculpting (as mentioned above), picking up some sort of instrument, etc.. These help her steady her hands and prevent straining them

It’s not that she’s anxious, she just has built up energy–specifically during the colder months when she can’t go out to hunt and channel her anger

I mean, during the whole sequence in the game where they drag you into Alcina’s chambers to determine what to do with you, she’s moving around the entire time, likely because she’s excited about how they’re going to deal with Ethan

She’s kind of swaying side to side in the cutscene

I do know, though, that she can still herself when she wants to. It’s hard to hunt living prey if you’re constantly moving around

I know during the gameplay, when you’re fighting her, she definitely might seem reckless, but there are two reasons for that: for starters, she’s trying to kill the player after being exposed to her weakness, meaning she wants to end things quickly before she’s able to retreat to safety

Two, by that point, the player already has killed Bela, and in some instances, they’ve already killed Daniela. She’s no doubt enraged that she wasn’t able to defend her sisters, as I said at the beginning. She’s furious at Ethan, and she wants to tear him to pieces

Even so, she still managed to stay coordinated and calculates her movements

She still has some sense of restraint, which is clear from the way she seems to stalk Ethan here and there to determine which direction he’s headed in. This way, she doesn’t lunge at him and put herself in a far more vulnerable position

She wants to make her mother proud, and she wants to defend her family, so when she finds that she wasn’t able to protect her sisters, she more than likely feels as though she failed on both accounts

Ultimately, she’s still very outgoing and sadistic, but I can definitely see a much softer side to her: one where she feels responsible for the wellbeing of her family, and then feels as if she failed when she can’t live up to those standards that she put on herself

Romantic

Contrary to what the majority of the fandom seems to think, I actually believe Cassandra would be an excellent partner

She is sadistic, yes, that’s obvious. However, as I explained above, she has a softer side. If she finds that she’s grown to like someone, especially romantically, that feeling of defensiveness seeps into her relationship as well

Not really one to initiate physical touch beyond holding her partner or pressing a quick kiss to her lips, but she’s also not one to shy away from it by any means. She’s down to try pretty much anything you’d like, unless it involves adding someone else into the mix

She’s definitely a possessive partner in certain aspects, and by that I mean she wants the relationship to only involve her and her lover. Not open to the idea of poly-relationships, but in all fairness, neither of her sisters are either. They’re all loyal and devoted to one special someone, and they all expect their partner to be as well (they only want your eyes on them--no one else)

On a different note, she loves dragging you into the pranks she pulls on her sisters

When Daniela is involved as well, things get more chaotic, and even though Bela makes sure you get dragged into her lecture as well, you and her younger sisters always end up having a good time

It’s one way that you started getting closer to both Cassandra and Daniela, which made both of them happy. Cassandra because you were getting along with her family, and Daniela because she essentially thinks of you as another sister–aka, someone to get into shenanigans with, but also someone new she could love as her own kind

Cassandra definitely might find it hard to pick up on certain cues, but so long as you let her know what you’re comfortable with and what you’re not, she’ll respect it

Don’t want her holding or kissing you during certain times, such as when you’re upset? Just want to be left alone? She’ll respect it, but she always makes sure you have what you need–after an hour or two, if you’re still wanting space, she’ll slip into the room momentarily to give you water and maybe something to snack on or fidget with. She’ll ask if you’re feeling any better and listen intently before heading out again

She’ll do this every hour or so until you’re ready for her to be near again

When you do let her close after calming down, she’ll do whatever it is you need: hold you, listen to you, offer words of encouragement, crack a joke, anything

She won’t push your boundaries, but she’ll keep an eye on you at all times until she’s sure you’re in a far better mood. She wants to make sure you don’t relapse into your sorrow

If you do, she’ll make sure you’re still taken care of until you’re better

She isn’t shy about linking arms or leaning against you/letting you lean against her around others, even around her sisters, who definitely tease her for it

When in bed, however, she strikes me as the type who likes to sleep on top of her partner for two reasons: one, because your body heat helps lull her into a deeper slumber, and two, because, again, she wants to protect her loved ones. She feels that lying on top of you gives her a better way to defend you at night

An added bonus of sleeping like this: she gets to listen to your heartbeat all night long, another sound that greatly comforts her

When winter comes, she’ll light the hearth in her room before bundling up with you under the blankets for an extra source of warmth and softness

During times like those, when you two are alone in her room, she’ll happily talk about her trophies and self-made weaponry she’s decorated her walls with. After some time talking about the knives she keeps on her desk, she’ll even offer to teach you how to create one of your own and use it to defend yourself in case she’s not around

Overall, she’s a very understanding partner, it just takes a bit of extra communication for her to know what you may or may not need. She’s very devoted to you, and she’ll essentially become your defender as well, though she’s not afraid to show affection towards you so you know she’s proud to be seen with you

Daniela

General

Daniela is absolutely the wildest of her sisters in terms of energy, but she also can be the kindest and friendliest of her older siblings

She gets along with people really well, but she still definitely has a more sadistic side to her personality, hence the reason she’s likely the one who brings the most maids down into the cellar for punishment

Not necessarily because she’s easily set off, nor because she’s overly reckless, but because she really enjoys causing chaos, which she partakes in with Cassandra most of the time as a strange way of bonding

Messiest of her sisters in terms of how she punishes the maids, as well as how she eats, talks, and thinks, but she still comes across as the sweetest of the three

Like most younger siblings, she looks up to her older sisters, especially Bela

She tries to be like them in some aspects, which I’ll elaborate on, but she also likes implementing parts of herself into things as well–essentially putting her own spin on things she’s been inspired to do or try

When I say she tries to be like her sisters, I’m talking about her mannerisms: how she holds herself in the presence of certain people, how she stalks and takes care of her prey, how she speaks to the maids when they’ve made a mistake, etc.

This can be seen in the actual game itself, but someone has already described it really well, so I’ll link it here

However, she definitely does put her own spin on things, whether it be physically (how she moves around the room before striking), verbally (how she speaks to others, aka, her flirty tone), or emotionally (the tone she uses when trying to achieve something)

An obvious hobby of hers, based on gameplay anyway, is reading. She locks herself in the library to read very often

I can definitely see her writing her own stories and possibly even her own poems, though. I also feel like Bela has tried out poetry as well, so this would be something else that the two of them could bond over as well, on top of reading

She loves when she gets to spend time with her family, especially her sisters, so whenever she sees an opportunity where she can bond with them, she takes it–even if it just means sitting in the same room as them for a certain amount of time

A social butterfly, Daniela isn’t afraid to greet strangers or try to strike up a conversation with someone when she goes out into the village to shop for new books

Granted, she tends to freak some people out, considering her family’s reputation and how energetic she can come across as, but nevertheless, she still is more than happy to talk to others and get to know them

Although she is very outgoing and likely a bubbly person, she definitely has moments where she wants to be alone. It’s either because she wants to escape from an argument she may have gotten into with her sisters, has gotten overwhelmed when someone else is arguing loudly, there’s too much noise nearby, or she just wants to take some time to herself to read

Often, disregarding the colder months, she can be seen at the Duke’s shop looking for new books

Her room definitely has shelves with those books in case she doesn’t feel like moving to the library or wants to read in the comfort of her bed, but I can see her having other things as well

Has a section of one of her walls dedicated to letters, photos, or drawings she’s made or shared with her family, all of which have small notes to recall where they originated from

Another wall, the one where her study is kept, is littered with the poems or rough drafts for stories she’s written recently. There are also likely a couple of books there for her to reference or gain inspiration from while writing

Out of all of her family, I feel like she has the broadest taste in music. Next to her desk, tucked away in the corner, she has a record player she purchased one year from the Duke, as well as a small collection of different records that she switches between randomly. She’ll often play certain albums while reading or writing, just so there’s some sort of noise in the background if it’s been a particularly stressful day

Romantic

So, Daniela definitely may struggle with certain boundaries in a relationship, but it’s because her love language is absolutely physical affection–she loves to hug, kiss, and cuddle with her partner at any given chance

If you’re the first one to initiate any form of intimacy–kiss her on the cheek or lips, lean into her for an embrace or to link arms, even something as simple as linking your fingers together when walking around or sitting together–she’ll completely melt

Like, a full on cheesy grin with a slight blush creeping up to her ears

She just looks so proud

However, with a little bit of time a patience, she’ll finally find ways to cope with having to give you space as well

It’s not necessarily because it’s the end of the world for her if she can’t touch you somehow, it’s just that she’s used to being close to you all the time, so she’ll have to adjust when you ask for some space

When you’re wanting to be alone for a bit, she’ll busy herself with writing you a letter or note of some kind that she can give to you once you’re ready for her to be close again

She’s absolutely the cuddlebug in her family: she’ll cuddle you whenever, so long as you’re comfortable with it

She’ll cuddle you when reading, when listening to music, when talking, and 100% cuddles with you when the two of you are asleep

I can see her finding any cuddling position suitable–she just wants to be close to you in one way or another

She, like her sisters, loves warmth and is drawn to your body heat

And while she can easily hear your heartbeat from a mile away, she still loves to press her ear up against your chest whenever to hear it directly next to her

On top of the cuddles, she also loves to hug you, no matter the reason

You’re sad? Hugs. You’re happy? Hugs. You’re confused? Hugs. Doesn’t matter what’s happening, she just loves hugging you

She also really loves being able to kiss you, all under the same circumstances as above

Out of the three of them, Daniela is definitely the most touchy and emotional one

However, she knows when she needs to be the reliable one. She knows there’s a time and place for her affection, emotions, and overall attitude

You’re her rock, and she wants to be that for you as well

You keep her grounded when she starts to get too overwhelmed, and she loves that you do so much for her. She wants to return the favor, even if she’s not entirely sure how

She’s fully capable of being the partner you need

She knows there’s more to a relationship than just pure romance–it takes time, patience, understanding, communication, and so much more–and she knows things won’t always be easy like they are in the romance novels she tends to be drawn toward

However, she’s also willing to stick it out and stay by your side

She loves you so much, and she wants to give you everything. She wants to give you the world, no matter the cost.

Ask anything of her, and she’ll do everything in her power to get it for you

She’s aware that sometimes she can be a bit much to others–in terms of her outlook on things and her level of energy–but she just hopes you’ll stand by her with pride the way she does with you

You, like her family, mean everything to her, and she just wants you to be happy and feel loved and appreciated

In short, Daniela is a very touchy partner, one who constantly wants to be near you. She loves spending all of her time with you. Even when you ask for space, she’s doing something for you: she’s pulling strength from the time spent on her hobbies to write you a poem or letter that she hopes will cheer you up even more when you let her near you again. She can be patient and strong when you need her to be. Without fail, she’ll always find a way to make you smile and laugh. You’re her world, her lover, her family, and she’ll do anything for you

Wanted to take a small break from posting three stories per character to come back to these three and show them a little more love. I haven’t been seeing much content for them since the fandom has already kind of died, so I just wanted to add this here until I fully come back to them. As of now, I still have eleven more people I’m wanting to write for, so it’s definitely going to be a while.

I liked writing this as a little breather though, so I may do this again in between characters (there are a lot, please bear with me).

[tropes-and-tales]

Too Much for You

Day 3:  Collaring (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Smut (Oral, m!receiving; oblique talk of other sex acts; oblique talk of power dynamics in the bedroom); 18+ only.

Word Count:  2865

AN:  This was requested by the lovely @callsign-frostbite!

The Hard Deck is often segregated by cliques, like a high school lunch room:  the fighter pilots post up by the pool tables and piano, the fixed wing aircraft pilots claim the stretch of the bar with the dart boards and juke box.  The bar proper is the neutral zone, but the two groups rarely mix.  

Bob Floyd falls in with the fighter pilots because he’s the back-seater for one, but he feels like he might fit in better with the darts-and-jukebox crowd.  They are more sedate, seem more confident in themselves.  There’s less of a nightly dick-measuring contest.

It doesn’t hurt that you’re part of the darts-and-jukebox crowd:  the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, poured into your uniform so it fits like a glove.  You move with that same quiet assurance as your fellow fixed wing pilots, but you’re like a bright point of light, always pulling Bob’s gaze to you.  You’re fascinating to watch:  when you’re playing darts, when you’re leaning over the jukebox, when you’re dancing a smooth two-step to the songs you pick.

Hangman is the one who first notices Bob’s puppy-dog staring, follows the WSO’s blue-eyed gaze across the Hard Deck where you and the other pilots drink and converse.  Hangman nudges Nat, who whispers in Rooster’s ear, who beckons Javi over, and within minutes, the whole crew is watching Bob watching you.

Hangman is the one who first tells Bob not to bother.

“She’s not the one for you, Baby on Board,” he tells Bob while he clasps his shoulder, jostles him a little in his seat.  “You need a shy gal.  A homebody who will greet you at the door with fresh-baked cookies.  A Betty Crocker-type.”

Nat scoffs, shakes her head.  “You make him sound like a complete square.”

“Well…”  Hangman trails off, shrugs with a wide smile.  “I mean…”

“He’s not a complete square, Bagman.”  Nat crosses her arms, and she squares up to her fellow fighter pilot.  “And anyway, what’s wrong with her?  She’s cute.”  She tilts her head in your direction.

It’s Javi who has the dirt on you, which sounds like so much of the usual Navy outlandish gossip.  He leans in close and tells Bob all about you.

“Her call-sign is Nix,” he says, and he keeps his voice low, as if you might hear over the din of the crowd.  “Because she flies one of those Poseidon recon planes.  But she’s a complete freak, man.  I served on a carrier with a guy whose roommate’s brother dated her.  She’s totally into that freaky bedroom shit.  She’d eat you alive.”

Bob swallows hard, but he can’t help the flush that breaks out across his cheeks…or the faint throb of lust that drums along with his heartbeat.

“What do you mean, freaky stuff?”  It’s Nat who asks the question; his pilot turns and watches you with frank interest now.

Javi shrugs, takes a sip of his beer.  “BDSM stuff.”  He looks at Bob, gives him another shrug.  “Sorry, man.  She’s too much for you.”

-----

After the fact, Bob bristles at his teammates’ collective verdict.

Bristling leads to simmering, which leads to outright resentment.  The days pass, and Bob teems with indignation.  How dare Bagman?  How dare Javi?  How dare any of them make assumptions about him?  Sure, he’s quiet and unassuming and a back-seater, but it grates on his nerves how they act like they know him that well. 

They don’t know him at all.

Even their dumb nickname for him:  Baby on Board.  They forget that he passed the same rigorous training they did, that he graduated from Top Gun just as they did.  He’s a goddamned grown man, and they treat him like a boy.

The two cliques at the Hard Deck rarely mix, but halfway through a Friday night, Bob taps into his latent courage—the courage his teammates fail to recognize—and marches over to where you stand by the jukebox.  He can hear Hangman behind him, trying to urge him back before it’s too late, but you catch sight of Bob’s approach out of your peripherals and turn to watch him.  You neither frown nor smile; your expression is exactly neutral.  Bob digs deeper into his hidden reserve of courage, and he holds out a hand.

“I’m Lieutenant Bob Floyd,” he says, and he hopes his teammates can see how he doesn’t stutter, how he meets your gaze levelly because he’s a goddamned man and not a boy.  “I heard you fly the new P-8 Poseidon.”

“I do.”  You hold your hand out to shake his, and you gift him a smile that seems guarded.  “Though it’s a few years old now.”

“Still new by military standards.”

Your smile relaxes, and you drop your hand.  “Very true.  Are you a pilot?”

Bob shakes his head, tells you he’s a weapons specialist officer, and the conversation flows naturally to your respective aircrafts, the systems on each, and if Bob admired you from afar, he likes the obvious love you have for your airplane even more.

He spends the rest of the night with you, and the hours fly by like nothing.  He leaves with your number, and the feeling is better than even the confused look on Bagman’s smug face—that quiet, unassuming Bob Floyd pulled the number of an unattainable fellow pilot.

-----

If you’re into freaky bedroom stuff, it doesn’t make an appearance right away.  You and Bob take your time—it doesn’t help that you’re both active duty.  There’s a stretch of time, just as your burgeoning relationship is on its shaky new legs, where you’re both deployed on separate missions. 

Bob thinks it’ll be the end of the thing between you, but somehow strengthens your relationship.  Absence making the heart grow fonder, all that cliched stuff.  When you’re finally both back stateside, you make it official:  Bob Floyd the WSO and you, the pilot who flies surveillance missions—an official couple.

Your first month as a couple, it’s that awkward period where you’re just figuring each other out in the bedroom.  It’s clumsy at first but passionate, the two of you abandoning any pretense of coolness for the ardor that you have for each other. 

Bob loves all of it:  the time he spends between your thighs, coaxing orgasms from you with his mouth.  The time you spend on your knees doing the same for him.  All of the varied positions, you riding him, him riding you.  The quickies and the love-making where you spend entire hours reveling in each other’s bodies. 

BDSM stuff, Javi had said.  Bob only has an inkling what that may mean.  He imagines whips and chains, a gimp mask, tears of pain.  He is open to nearly anything you might want to do, but the idea of pain in the bedroom makes him wary.  He doesn’t want to hurt you, even consensually.  If it is something you demand, he might have to end things.

The thought tortures him.  Each day, he falls more in love with you.  Each night, he is slow to fall asleep at the unspoken fear that you may be too much for him and the inverse:  that he may not be enough for you.

Bob should have remembered that the Navy is little more than a hive of gossipers.  People tell tales, and truth get twisted in the retelling.

Javi and his buddy’s roommate’s brother.  Your alleged ex.  It was a ridiculous game of telephone.  The topic kinda comes up organically over dinner one night, talk about exes, and it leads to Bob blurting out his fears.  That he’s not adventuresome enough for you.  That when you inevitably ask him to tie you up and whip you, he won’t be able to satisfy you.

The look on your face is priceless.  You gaze over your plate at him and ask, “huh?”

He can’t turn back now.  He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.  “BDSM stuff,” he clarifies.  “I don’t…I don’t think I’m into that.”

“Bobby—”

“But I’ll try.”  He cuts you off, and he feels sick to his stomach to have brought his silent fears to light with so little finesse.  “I’ll try, sweetheart.”

You set your fork down with a quiet clink, and you reach across the table and take his hand.  When he chances a look at your face, you don’t seem angry or disappointed.  Instead, you smile at him softly.

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” you tell him. 

-----

Javi and the gossipmongers in the Navy are half-right:  you are not into BDSM.

You are into playing with power dynamics.

Bob gets an education in an entire spectrum of sexuality he’s never even considered before.  He’d be ashamed—embarrassed, maybe, as he usually is when it came to frank discussions about sex—but you’re an amazing teacher and, well….he finds that perhaps he’s into playing with power dynamics too. 

And you’re both switches.  You’re both capable of being dominant or submissive.  The possibilities are endless.  Bob’s mind boggles at the surfeit of scenes the two of you could play out, and it boggles further to find that those scenes make him fall more and more in love with you.  It always felt hokey, talk of how sex was a way to build a connection.  Bob never had it before, but now?

Now he has it.

-----

The day goes poorly for Bob:  Hangman continues to live up to his nickname, and his rivalry with Rooster spills over to the rest of the TOPGUN pilots.  Bob and Nat get paired up with Jake during a dog-fight exercise, and they lose over and over because the man is incapable of teamwork.

Bob can’t control Jake. 

Bob can’t even control the plane.  He has to cede control to Nat, and he’s usually fine with it, but he feels extra helpless as a back-seater during exercises like this.

But Bob, if he asks nicely, can control you—so when he gets home, frustrated and irritable, he asks if he can be in charge.

You gaze at him a long moment, and your eyes get steadily darker as your pupils dilate. 

“Of course,” you tell him. 

-----

Bob in charge:  he makes you change into the sweet powder-pink lingerie he bought you.  A casual cotton dress.  He has a housewife kink, he’s found, and he likes to play around with the dynamic of pretending you’re waiting at home for him. 

Lingerie, dress.  He also helps you put on the collar, a deceptively simple silver band of metal.  Not too tight.  There’s a little hook at the end for a leash, but neither you nor Bob ever use it.  The collar is just a visual reminder of who is in charge, and who is being led.

Bob in charge:  he orders you onto all fours.  He sits on the couch, freshly showered after his shitty day.  He leans back, splays his legs wide.  He crooks his forefinger at you.

“Come here, kitten,” he says.

It’s as simple as this.  He gives you an order and you obey.  He’s in charge; he tells you to crawl to him on hands and knees and you do.  You kneel in front of him, your hands on your thighs, your eyes fixed to his face in an expression of adoration.  You wait for his next order.

There’s no frustration like with Hangman.  There’s no fickle controls like in the back seat of his and Nat’s plane.  There’s no dog-fight practice where they lose Maverick in the sun, where they have to do hundreds of push-ups on the tarmac until Bob’s arms burn and his cold fury simmers. 

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” you answer, and your voice has a deference it normally doesn’t.  Bob feels the tension of his day bleed away bit by bit, then all at once.

Bob in charge:  he orders you to put your mouth to him.  He’s already half-hard, but he loves the feeling of your warm mouth on him, coaxing him to full life with your worshipful tongue laving him, suckling against his sensitive tip until he’s hard as iron and throbbing in your mouth. 

He lays a hand on the back of your head, another tame display of dominance, but he doesn’t force you.  He shifts it to cup the side of your face as you take him to the root, your nose pressed against the sparse, coarse curls at the base of his cock.  Keeps his hand there as you bob your head, as you take deep breaths through your nose. 

You’re reverent when you’re submissive.  You always take your time.  You cup his balls lightly in one hand, and when you feel them start to draw up—a sure sign his orgasm is approaching—you back off a bit.  You release him from the warm confines of your mouth and draw the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein that runs along the underside of his cock.  You lick the tip of him, suckle there again until he’s breathing harsh, punched-out breaths.  Then you engulf him again, hollow your cheeks and actually hum against him, and the tip of him bumps against the back of your throat until your eyes water.

A lone tear breaks free when you blink, and Bob shifts his hand, brushes it away.  He taps you on your chin lightly.

“Eyes on me, kitten,” he orders you, and a moment later, you look up at him. 

You look beautifully wrecked:  eyes wet and liquid as you gaze at him, your eye makeup streaked and ruined.  Your lovely mouth stretched wide around his cock.

“You look pretty as a damned picture,” he tells you, and it’s true.  He holds you in this position for a beat, wants to commit the image to memory.  He wants to carry this moment with him for future frustrating days—when TOPGUN is grueling, he wants to remember that he has this to come home to. 

Not just a gorgeous woman on her knees with her lips wrapped around him, either.  You’re that, of course, but you’re more.  You’re also the woman who orders him around, who calls him a “good boy,” who cups his face the way he’s cupping yours right now.  You’re also the woman who ties him to the bed and teases him relentlessly.  You’re also the woman who spends long, lazy Sunday mornings with him, making love in a languid, sleepy way that feels like heaven.

You’re also the woman who flies a spy plane, a lieutenant in your own right, a no-nonsense aviator who commands respect with your quiet competency in a field full of blowhards and jackasses.

Bob releases his hold on your face.  He slips his hand down to your throat, and he hooks his forefinger around the metal collar, now warmed from being against your skin.

He tugs it gently.  “I’m close,” he warns you.  “You gonna take everything I give you?  Swallow it down, kitten?”

You pull your mouth away long enough to answer.  “Yes, sir,” you tell him, and you sound just as wrecked as he does.  He knows what this game does to you.  He knows your powder-pink panties are slick with your own arousal, your pretty little pussy likely twitching and clenching around nothing, waiting for him.

He nods, and you bend your head to him again.  Your mouth is wonderfully warm, surrounding him, and you pick up your pace.  Your hand on his balls squeezes him gently, and he feels his orgasm—delayed several times now—thundering towards him.  His hips judder upward, involuntary, chasing the feel of your wet, sucking mouth, and you gag lightly against the action but you never stop.

You never stop once he’s given you an order. 

A moment later, the heavy tension in his belly snaps, turns to light and heat that crackles along his spine to the base of his skull, crackles down to where his balls pull up taut in your hand as he comes.  He groans out your name, swears as he pulses in your mouth, and each throb of his cock is answered by you swallowing against him, the slim column of your throat working to take everything he gives you.

And you clean him up at his order too, your tongue shyly running over his softening cock, and then your hand tucking him back into his sweatpants before your eyes find his face.

“Thank you,” he tells you.  He hooks his finger under your collar again, gently leads you from the floor and onto his lap, and he wraps his arms around you.  He presses his head into the side of your neck and sighs out the lingering bit of his frustration from the day, but he’s completely relaxed now.  Once he’s recovered, he’ll repay you, but for now, he wants to bask in his post-orgasm glow with you on his lap and in his arms.

And he thinks back to Javi’s words, all those months ago.  She’s too much for you, he’d said.  Which turned out to be completely untrue:  you’re just enough for him.  You’re perfect for him. 

[rattyexplores]

Feather-Legged Fly

Spotted in a garden. A parasitic species, being in the Tachinidae family. I haven't photographed the larvae, but there observations on iNaturalist, showing the species feeding on Heteropteran insects: (example1) (example2)

Source & more information: Stireman JO III, O'Hara JE, Wood, DM 2006, 'TACHINIDAE: Evolution, Behavior, and Ecology', Annual review of entomology, vol. 51, no. 1, pp. 525-555.

08/09/23 - Diptera: Trichopoda pictipennis

QLD:BRB - Townsville

[t3a-tan]

Hi! I have read that au were Oliver is a human... What would happen if he found a tiny borrower child?

Human Oliver is certifiably the best at dealing with tiny people

Kind of a continuation of this

Word Count: 2,428

---

"Oliver? I found this toy outside… I think someone dropped it."

When coming into work that morning the last thing Oliver expected was to see one of the children he worked with pull a tiny person out of their pocket. At first glance it looked like an action figure— but Oliver bristled as he noticed the 'toy' was squirming; tiny tears glistening off of their cheeks.

Oliver was reminded of the tiny man he had seen not weeks ago who had fallen into his cereal bowl. He had mused with the idea of more tiny people existing, but he had never tried to seek them out. That man had been scared enough.

"It tickles…" The child currently clutching the tiny person in a…less than comfortable looking grip giggled. Oliver hid his wince behind a smile.

"Oh? Well it's good that you spotted it. One of my other patients' parents rang about a missing toy, actually. Thank you, Connie." Lying to his patients was not something he usually did as the trust he got from them was so important, but in this case he was lying in order to prevent harm rather than cause it.

Holding out his hand, Oliver watched as the tiny person was dropped into it, and as much as he wanted to right the situation as soon as possible he couldn't devote his attention onto the tiny person at the moment. Based on the first tiny person that Oliver had interacted with's reaction to being seen, Oliver doubted this one wanted their existence to be known by anyone else.

So he pocketed them, resting a hand over the trouser pocket and trying his best to keep still and to avoid straining the fabric and causing discomfort for the current unwilling passenger. He then focused on the session with his patient, hoping that the experience wouldn't be too traumatising for whoever he had trapped in his pocket.

…

Oliver was thankful that Connie was his last patient that day— once he had his office to himself again he sat down at his desk rather than the chair he sat on during sessions, reaching into his pocket with gentle but precise fingers until he snagged one of the tiny limbs within. They immediately began to thrash again once he had made contact, but Oliver still removed them from his pocket.

He knew he wouldn't hurt them… assuring them of that was a different story.

"It's alright…" He shushed, despite knowing they would probably be too panicked to listen clearly at the moment. Oliver carefully lowered the squirming person onto his desk. "I'm not going to—"

A pause.

"You're only a child…" He breathed, eyebrows furrowing with concern. If he had noticed such an important detail beforehand he would have been in a bit more of a rush to reassure them of their safety. Children were much more susceptible to lifelong traumas than adults, and Oliver wanted to prevent exactly that.

The tiny child appeared to be a boy, probably only eight or younger. He had an almost reddish brown hair and an almond skin tone, his eyes dark and frightened; filled with tears. The temporary eye contact he got was ripped away suddenly as the tiny boy struggled to his feet and began to run.

Oliver fought the urge to stop him. There was nowhere for the child to run to on the desk, so he only watched as he retreated and hid behind a stack of post-it notes.

The fact that he even could hide his entire person behind that stack was remarkable— but really, there were more pressing things to focus on.

"I'm sorry for keeping you in my pocket for so long. That must have been quite frightening…not to mention uncomfortable." Oliver spoke in a delicate tone, leaning his head down slightly so he wasn't towering quite so much.

"My name is Oliver… Dr. Oliver Oakwood…" He caught a glimpse of the little trembling ball curled up on his desk and only whimpering in response to his introduction. In fact, he thought he saw a tiny flinch at the mention of him being a doctor.

Oliver couldn't help but sigh, resting his cheek on one of his hands.

"Connie said she found you outside. What were you doing outside alone, little one? You can't be any older than eight." He tried to gently coax an answer from the terrified boy, treading lightly.

Based on the man who had fallen into Oliver's cereal not all that long ago, these little people lived in the walls of houses. Why was there a child all alone outside of a child's psychology practice? It didn't seem like the best place to live.

"I-I'm ten…"

Oliver's eyebrows raised slightly, almost not catching the shaky words. He's ten… His lips pressed into a frown. If this boy was ten, he was definitely malnourished.

"My apologies. Perhaps I need a new prescription for my glasses." Although a joke, Oliver wasn't the best at his delivery so it sounded completely serious to anyone listening. The child very hesitantly turned their head up to look at him, and Oliver remained still, offering a small reassuring smile.

"Are you lost, little one? I can help you get back to wherever you need to be and whoever you need to be with. I don't intend to hurt you or anything of the sort, so there's no need to be frightened— though it's perfectly understandable if you are." He made sure to keep his tone soft and non-threatening.

If he had been scary for a grown man, he was surely terrifying to this child.

The boy wiped his eyes slightly, hiccuping before opening his mouth as if to speak. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Thinking quickly, Oliver murmured a small apology before placing his hand over the tiny child, not pressing down but making sure he couldn't squirm out of the grip nonetheless.

Kaleigh opened the door moments after, content as usual. Some people would say it was infectious, but Oliver kept up a neutral disposition despite her smile.

"Hey, Oliver. Helen said to let you know that she can't do the meeting tomorrow, so she's rescheduling it to the tenth next month if that date works for you too— her daughter tested positive for COVID this morning. She tested negative but you should probably take the test too just in case." She explained, tapping on the edge of the door slightly.

Oliver nodded. "I'll take it once I'm home and I'll email her about the meeting… Thank you for letting me know." He offered a polite smile, although on the inside he wished he had just been emailed about the situation later.

Kaleigh smiled brightly in response, nodding and shutting the door again. Oliver waited a few moments before letting out a sigh of relief, and lifting his hand off of the tiny child trapped under it. His expression shifted to one of concern.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you at all?" He asked gently. The squirming had stopped once Kaleigh started speaking, so Oliver worried he might have accidentally pressed down too hard. The boy shook his head, staring up at Oliver with…awe? What?

"Y-you…you hid me from her…"

Oliver blinked, his brows pinching with confusion. That wasn't the response he expected.

"Of course. I presumed you don't want to be seen by anyone else. You're already scared enough of me, so I doubt another giant would help." He tilted his head slightly. "Was that the correct assumption?"

The boy nodded quickly, eyes wide. Oliver let out a small sigh of relief, relaxing a bit. He was glad he hadn't needlessly trapped the boy in such a forceful manner.

There was silence for a few moments, the boy fidgeting nervously as Oliver observed, thinking about what to do now.

"A-are…are you going to let me go..?"

Oliver was once again taken aback by the boy's hesitant words. Did he think Oliver would keep him? Tiny people sure thought humans were barbaric creatures… he was sure the size difference only made those beliefs worse.

"Of course, sweetheart. You're a person, not mine to keep." Oliver leaned in slightly, now resting his head on his forearms, looking over the boy's unkempt appearance. It seemed that tiny people didn't live all that well. "Although ten is quite a big age, I will need to make sure I return you to your parents when I do let you go. Are they in this building?"

The boy shook his head, before beginning to tear up again.

"I-I'm lost… I fell in the lady's bag and she brought it here, a-and I tried to figure out where I was outside but then I got caught by the small human…" The boy began to spiral, hugging himself in a self-soothing gesture. Oliver's expression became sympathetic.

"Oh dear…" He wanted to physically comfort the child, but he also knew by now that his hands were considered the very opposite of comforting. "Is it alright if I hold you, little one?"

He fully expected a no, and would have respected that— but he was pleasantly surprised by the nod he received in response to that question. Very gently, and slow enough for the boy to change his mind at any moment, Oliver scooped him up into his hands and cradled him closely.

"There there…" He felt minuscule hands grip onto his shirt, his thumb rubbing circles into the tiny boy's back. "I'll get you home, I promise you that. And until you are home I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

Being lost was already terrifying for children that weren't shorter than his thumb— he couldn't imagine how scared this boy must have been, especially considering these tiny people thought humans would do terrible things to them.

And Oliver had no doubt that was true of some humans. He couldn't blame them for being afraid; he could only try to assure them of their safety and personhood.

Once the boy had stopped crying, Oliver spoke again, this time trying to get the information he needed to help him get home safely.

"What did the lady look like? Perhaps I'll recognize the description." He asked, his tone still light and soothing. The boy sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

"S-she… she has light brown hair… a-and she's old. Mama says she's in her forties…" Oliver didn't bother to correct the child that forty was not old in the slightest, focusing on pinpointing the description on a person.

"Is her name Helen?" He tilted his head as he waited for confirmation. The boy perked up and nodded.

"I-I think so… but she went home. H-how am I going to find home now..?" He began to get worked up again, sniffling and eyes watering, preparing to cry. Oliver rubbed his back again gently, offering a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry… she's my supervisor. I know where she lives. I can drop by on my way home, alright?" He assured. The boy wiped at his eyes again and nodded. Oliver hummed. "What's your name by the way, little one?"

"M-Marcus…" He stammered in response. Oliver smiled again.

"Okay, Marcus. You'll be home safe in no time…"

…

Oliver stopped by the corner shop to buy a get well soon card and some sweets, just to use as an excuse for why he was stopping by— not to mention that it was the polite thing to do. He had Marcus in his chest pocket the whole time, speaking to him whilst they were in the car.

Marcus was a curious and bright young boy— he told Oliver all about his collection of broken crayons and the drawings in his room. He spoke about his parents, and told him about what borrowers were. There was no sign of the timid boy Oliver had first met— now he was just as bubbly and energetic as could be, and Oliver couldn't help but smile over that fact.

After reaching Helen's house, Oliver got out of the car and picked up her card and sweets, walking to the front door and knocking three times. He had put on a mask beforehand— he still had some disposable ones in his car from when the pandemic first kicked off.

She opened the door, also wearing a mask.

"Hello Oliver." She greeted, though Oliver could tell she was thoroughly confused by his presence. He held out the card and sweets.

"Kaleigh let me know that your daughter is sick. I hope she feels better soon…" He explained politely. Her face lit up.

"Oh! How sweet. Let me make you a cuppa before you head off, alright? Jamie has been in her room since this morning and I've wiped everything down, so everything should be COVID free." She stepped aside and opened the door wider so Oliver could come in. Oliver entered with a nod.

"You can take off your mask for now by the way."

Once he was inside she shut the door behind him and shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers, pulling out a chair at the table. Oliver sat down graciously, removing his mask.

"Luckily she's not having really bad symptoms at the moment… Mostly headaches and muscle soreness. She had a fever earlier but it's gone now." Helen began to talk and Oliver paid attention whilst at the same time very delicately removing Marcus from his pocket, taking the opportunity whilst her back was turned.

He hummed, prompting her to continue as he leaned down and carefully placed Marcus onto the ground, giving him a gentle pat on the head with his finger. Marcus hugged onto the appendage for a few moments before looking around to get his bearings. Oliver waited patiently, just to make sure this was indeed the right house.

"I had it twice last year and it was awful. I'm glad she doesn't get the more severe symptoms like that." Helen continued.

"I recall."

Soon enough Marcus had ran over to one of the walls with an outlet, prying it open just enough to fit through. He waved to Oliver before ducking inside, and Oliver waved back with a smile, watching the outlet shut behind him.

"How do you have your tea?"

He turned his gaze to focus on Helen again. His heart felt warm; relieved that the tiny boy was safe, and that his parents wouldn't be worried sick over his disappearance for much longer. He leaned his chin onto his hand, meeting his supervisor's gaze with a smile.

"Just one sugar please."

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — be better, rookie + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, gn!reader, pro hero!bakugou, he’s all scarred up so…manga spoilers? reader looks up to and has a huge crush on bakugou, small age gap sort of implied !! wrote this in an hour so sorry for any typos !! not beta read <3

happy new year everyone!! first little ficlet of 2023!! thank you all for sticking by me this last year, i hope this next one is full of positive vibes for you all 🫶🏾☁️

aside from christmas, the new year has always been a time where crime was at its peak – whether it be pitpockets sneaking through crowds at Japan’s famed festivals or cruel individuals breaking into quaint little family homes while the occupants are out for the fireworks; crime always rears it ugly head during the dawn of a new year. for pro-heroes, working the patrol on new years eve is almost as bad as it gets, no one wanting to stick around for long hours amongst rowdy groups of fans, pranksters, and evil-doers amongst other archetypes of the general public. getting stuck with the new years patrol was prfobably the closet thing to bad luck, but this time around, you didn’t mind.

“what? got no plans for the new year, rookie?’

from your place crouched on a roof above the warm glow of the festivals below, you spare a glance up at your patrol partner for the evening and wet the swell of your lower lip, as if to warm it up from the onslaught of cold air drifting over it. “uh, n-no, not this year dynamight,” you stammer out, unsure as to why – is it because you’re cold? or because you’re spending the last day of the year working with a living legend? “all my friends are busy – not that i have many, and um…i kinda need the extra wages? so i volunteered for the patrol this year…”

his sturdy and intimidating presence looming over you while you hug your knees to your chest only serves to make you ramble on about the finer details you’re sure the older, more explosive hero could careless about. it all just…flies out of you, admitting your truth to someone you’ve admired for so long. katsuki bakugou was just shy of twenty-three when he started his own agency, shooting through the ranks for not only his zero casualties, zero failures work in the hero field but because of his brash, take-no-shit approach to life and obviously soul-damaging goodlooks. the first time you’d met the great and powerful dynamight, you were just a little ways away from completing your final year in the hero course at U.A, he’d come in for one of those alumni talks along with a few of his other succeszsful classmates from the iconic class 1-A. you remember nothing else from that day aside from bakugou’s words. 

‘havin’ a flashy quirk ain’t worth shit if yer not willin’ to push yourself past what you already know,’ he’d said, commanding your attention as you listened on with baited breath. ‘believe in what you can do, but don’t ever get comfortable, knowin’ that you can always be somethin’ more.’

now, seven, about to be eight years on – you still hold his words close to your heart, using it as motivation to strive to become a better hero…even if you are just a sidekick for now. you’re pulled from your thoughts when bakugou lets out a grunt while he flops down to sit next you, hot-blood red and silver-moon grey eyes focused on the buzzing celebrations below, his nose tucked into the collar of his winter-costume to keep warm. “got no partner t’kiss when the clock strikes twelve, hah?”  there’s not an ounce of care for how scandalous his question might be hidden in the blonde’s voice, in fact, he smirks from under his collar ( you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle ) when you squeak in response.

“n-no! nothing like that,” your voice shakes and rises in pitch as you vehemently deny katsuki’s claims – only making him laugh a little more, the timbre sound bristling right through you like the chill of an icy winter’s breeze. “i’m not dating anyone. i don’t really have the time to, i’ve just been focusing on becoming a good pro-hero…being the best i can be.”

bakugou knows those words like the back of his scarred hands, he knows the loneliness that comes with them too. they’re what’s gotten him this far, what got his face fucked up and his life hanging in the balance on multiple occasions. he knows them well, he wonders if you’re the same too.

“s-so…uh, dynamight–”

‘bakugou…bakugou’s fine,”

“bakugou,” you correct yourself quickly, daring to look at the man, your idol. “d-do you have any plans for new years eve tonight?”

your nervous squeals remind the aging blonde of someone he used to know, someone he’ll never dmit that he’s fond of, and bakugou decides then and there, that he likes you. this meek little rookie. he shakes his head. “don’ really care for this time’a year,” he explains simply. “but a couple of my old…friends are expecting me at a party by midnight.”

there’s a beat of silence, pocketed by your brief and meek sigh. “i-it’s almost midnight, sir.”

katsuki bakugou’s had a hard time accepting a lot of his feelings, not knowing when or why he should care…but tonight, he finds that he does. if he leaves now, with almost a few minutes to spare before the dawn of a new age, this rooke, the one that he hardly knows and only just met…will be alone. “s’bakugou to you, rookie.” and for some reason, his aching and turbulent soul just can’t handle that. “and i know, didn’t say i was goin’ to the stupid party, did i?”

the countdown below beings, with only a minute to go before another gruellling year will be upon you– your heartbeat is louder than the simmering excitement beneath you, the echoes of blood rushing through your ears deafening the anticipating crowd below. you want this next year to count, you want all of your hard work to mean something, you want the man that lead you here to know how much you owe him – so your body moves without thinking, racing ahead of the sixty-second timer that the whole world is running on as jumbled words tumble from your lips and you latch onto the dynamight’s right arm, desperatly, tearily.

“t-thank you!” you blurt out quickly, before you can even stop yourself. forty-five seconds left on the clock. “for everything, for being my hero, for going on when others can’t. for being the reason that i want to do better next year, b-be better!” you expect katsuki to recoil, to shove you off and when he doesn’t, you keep going. “even when the years would hurt you, you’ve never stopped. s-so thank you dynamight, f-for everything.”

the pro hero hates the way he almost gets choked up, nearly hates the way you remind him so much of the person who drives him to become better too. he blinks back the water lining his mismatched eyes, coughing to cover up the emotion in his voice. “did that idiot–” less than thirty seconds now. better, kacchan, be better. “did deku put you up to this?’ 

bakugou’s heart seizes in his chest when he realises – you’re just good, a little like deku, but good in your own way, in your own time. it makes sense why the number one had chosen you to be his sidekick. ten seconds. “no,” you whisper so sweetly, almost too quiet to be heard underneath the shouts of ‘five, four three two–!’ “that was all me. t-thank you, bakugou.”

one.

the smile you give him is bright, further illuminated by the pops of colour from fireworks in the sky.

you’re pretty, both inside and out, showing katsuki an appreciation he’s only ever felt once, before. 

speaking again, you give his arm a squeeze. “happy new year, bakugou.” 

“happy new year,” katsuki parrots, constarstingly soft to his rough, bumped and bruised exterior. here’s to being better, rookie.”

[keigo-takamis-no-1-simp]

Ｈａｗｋｓ ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ： Ｂｉｒｄ ｏｆ Ｐｒｅｙ

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Hawks x female! Reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: When you get bored at home waiting for your loving husband to come home... you think of a way to get him to come back sooner. It works- for a price.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Smut

𝙲𝚆/𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: Face-sitting, degradation, creampie, rough sex, penetration, female-parts, sex (ofc)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1784 

Note: I have NEVER written smut before so I am so, so sorry if this is awful. Spicy stuff happens after the cut. This is- part of something I am challenging myself to do as a writer, I guess? I sure as hell ain't goin to heaven after this shit--

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

You’d been teasing him all day, just to see what he would do. Since you had the day off, you were bored. And what better way to deal with it than making your boyfriend horny as fuck when he’s in a meeting? 

It started off with pictures of your body- nothing too revealing, but enough to make him want more. He opened the messages, but didn’t do much more. You huffed, before an idea crossed your mind. 

Shifting onto your back, you spread your legs. Wearing little more than a bra and panties, your hand reaches up. With his feather around your neck, you knew he’d hear everything you did. Every little noise, whimper, or moan- which is exactly what you wanted. 

You begin to rub yourself over your panties, letting out a soft sigh as you feel the gentle pressure. After a few minutes, you slide your hand into your them, the feather in hand. It had bristled up a little, and the feeling of it against your clit was utterly delicious. 

Letting out a soft moan, your head tilts back. “Kei…~” You whine, shifting a little to continue to build that pleasure. It had been so long since you both had sex, and you missed him like hell. 

After a few moments, the sound of the front door jerks you from your thoughts. That meeting should’ve been another 10 minutes tops, and it took 15 to get home-

Your thoughts are cut short from a familiar winged male opening the bedroom door with more force than needed. His face is flushed, short hot breaths escaping his lips. His feathers are slightly ruffled, and his wings were spread just a little more than usual. 

He was beautiful normally, but this was hot. 

“Baby bird…~” His words are a low growl as he stalks towards you, before crawling onto the bed. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doin’, hmm?” He rips the covers away, exposing you playing with yourself. 

Your stomach drops, but in the most pleasurable way possible. His eyes- like a predator eyeing it’s prey. 

A dark chuckle escapes his lips as his eyes darken just a little. “Mmmm… that’s what I thought. Playing with yourself like a little whore, hmm?~” He tuts a little, the feather coming from your hands to his own. 

“You’ve been such a naughty little bird, sending me pictures in meetings, playing with my feathers in a way you know I can’t ignore…” He pushes your legs apart, crawling in between them to hover right above you. 

His hot breath fans your chest as he takes in your flustered form. “Just couldn’t wait till I got home, huh..?” You don’t respond, and he trails his fingers through your hair. Suddenly, he wraps some of it around his fingers and pulls. 

A quiet moan escapes your lips at the feeling, and that simple noise sparks something in those darker amber eyes of his. “Such pretty noises… but they aren’t words, baby bird.” He clicks his tongue. 

You’d already been quite bratty… so why stop now? You pout up at him, as much as you can with his hands in your hair, anyway. You knew he enjoyed the fight. 

“Mm, but you came, didn’t you?~” You tease, before he tugs harder, ripping another moan from your throat. His face is inches from your neck as he growls. His hot breath fans your throat, teeth inching dangerously to your jugular.

“I guess I’ll have to remind you just who’s in charge, angel… and it isn’t you.” A feather flies from his plumes, wrapping around your wrists just enough to make sure you can’t move them. He wraps his hand around them, pinning them above your head. Your chest sticks out just a bit more from the angle. 

“So pretty.. It’s a shame, really..” He murmurs, disappointment clear in his tone. You shift, letting out a quiet whine. Before you can speak, he clicks his tongue again. “No, pretty bird… you had your chance. It seems like I need to remind you just who’s in charge, hmm..?” 

Heat rushes to your core at just how low his voice is. Oh, you fucked up. But this is exactly what you wanted. “Just sit still… you’re too horny to wait for me, hmm? Fine then…” His eyes flick up to yours for a moment. Even though you could feel just how hard he was, he stops for just a moment. 

“You can answer one question- what are our colors?” You falter, but you’re grateful. Despite how turned on he was, he always asked. 

“Red means stop…” His tongue trails down your stomach, and your words catch in your throat. “Yellow- Yellow means slow down, and… and green means it’s all good…” He hums in approval. 

“One last one. What’s the safe word?” 

“Treehouse.” “Good girl… fuck… I’m gonna absolutely wreck you sweetheart. But first… I have an idea.” He shifts, laying on his back as he gently guides you onto his face. 

“You’re gonna sit on my face until I’ve had enough. Sound good, little bird?~” Before you can respond, his arms wrap around your thighs. Pulling you down, your heat directly on his mouth. 

A quiet moan escapes your lips as his tongue traces your folds. “Fuck, Kei…” He slaps your ass cheek, and you whine. 

“Who am I?” He all but growls against you. 

“Sir..” You whimper, swallowing hard as his feathers dig into your wrists just a little more. 

He lets out a low chuckle, before giving you a harsh suck on your clit. “Good girl.” The moment he properly tastes you, he hums in approval.

A moan escapes your lips as he goes back to tongue-fucking you, making noises and holding you down like you were his last meal. Fuck- he was hot. And the fact he was holding you down on top of him? 

If there was any anxiety about suffocating him, he left no room to argue. If he wanted to suffocate himself on your pussy, he was gonna do it.

His lips shift, now wrapping around your clit. A mewl escapes your lips as your legs spread a little wider. He chuckles, the sound going straight to your core. 

When another whine leaves your lips, this time when he slows down. He hums, the vibrations making you jolt. After a few moments, he lets go of one of your thighs, sliding in two of his fingers. 

A deep moan escapes your lips this time. “F-fuck-” You can’t help but grind down onto his face, and he grips your waist tightly. When his fingers find that spongy spot inside of you, another moan escapes your lips. He chuckles, before abusing that spot. 

It doesn’t take long before that coil tightens almost painfully in your stomach. You’re panting, moaning, practically riding his fingers and his face– and with a nip to your clit, you fall apart on top of him. 

He’s quick, hardly letting you savor your orgasm before having you face down and ass up. “Such a good slut- who’s my good little whore, huh?” He slaps your ass, pulling a mewl from your throat. 

“I-I am-” He slaps your other ass cheek, a warning growl emanating from behind you. 

“I am?” The dark, dominant sound of his voice makes your thighs press together a little. But you wanted to see how far you could push him… his punishments were always good. So, she just nods. He sighs a bit, clicking his tongue. 

“Naughty bird… here I was, about to reward you for taking everything so well..” There’s faux sympathy in his tone. His hand gently rubs one of your ass cheeks, before slapping it hard. You yelp out softly, though there’s a soft moan mixed in. 

“Ah, that’s right… you like that sort of shit dontcha?” He chuckles, the sound holding a promise of danger. One that you like. “Fine… I’ll make it hurt then, princess.” 

Without warning, his hard cock slams into your core, giving you no chance to accommodate him. A mixture between a moan and a cry escapes your lips. He stills his hips completely against yours, his lips against your ear. 

“Color, love?” His voice is raspy, and you clench around him at the sound. 

“G-green, sir-” You whimper, biting your lip. His feather holds your hands in front of you on the bed, unable to hold your upper half up. He hums in approval again, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. 

“Good girl…” He murmurs, before pulling out a bit. Without warning, he slams back into you, setting a brutal pace that has you seeing stars. Mixtures of “oh my god” and profanities are pulled from your lips as the head of his cock slams against your cervix. 

“Such a good slut- gonna fuck ya till ya can’t walk- that want you want? Tell me you want it-” He grunts, panting as he continues to slam into you. Your mouth opens to respond, but you can’t get a word out. The only thing spilling from your lips is moans, whimpers, and a little bit of drool. That feeling of warmth in your stomach returns quickly, the coil tightening again.

“Can’t even talk back anymore, huh?” He chuckles, grabbing your hair and pulling you up by it, then holding you by the throat. “Such a pretty little whore.. And all fucking mine.” Each word was punctuated with a deep thrust. 

And with that, the coil snaps. Your vision goes white as you clench down around him. Moaning out loudly, your eyes roll into your head as your tongue lolls from your mouth. 

After a few more thrusts, he buries himself into you, and you can literally feel the warmth of his release settling in your womb. A soft whine escapes your lips at the feeling. His feather lets go of your wrists, gently trailing your back before going back to his wings. 

He’s panting, before peppering kisses on your shoulders. “You took me so well, such a good girl…” He murmurs, letting himself slide out of your tight hole. His cum begins to dribble out, trailing down your thighs. You whine again, now for the loss of feeling. He laughs lightly, turning you around to kiss your forehead. 

“Alright, baby bird… let’s get you all cleaned up, hmm?” He coos, brushing your hair away from your face. You lean into his touch. 

Keigo was a lot of things. Dominant, rough, unrelenting- but kind, gentle, and caring. You hum in response, approval clear in your tone. Now… all that’s left of the night is for him to spoil you with his love. And you knew he wouldn’t hold back on that either. 

[thatanimewriter]

RETROUVAILLES.

➳ synopsis: v. to meet again, especially after a long time apart

➳ character/s: hayama akira, tsukasa eishi, riku dola, morinozuka takashi, lie ren, winter schnee, qrow branwen, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, jirou kyoka, shinsou hitoshi, togata mirio, dedue molinaro, felix fraldarius, shamir nevrand, vi, ekko, dan heng, blade, gepard landau, fushiguro megumi, zen'in maki, nanami kento + any of your faves

➳ warnings: fantasy!au (character is a knight, you are the royal they serve), medieval shit, major character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of injury, childhood friends to almost lovers, accidental murder lol, intentional murder, reader described as beautiful, hurt/no comfort, angst, gn!reader (as always)

➳ word count: 2k

➳ notes: the thing got graded finally, so you can now have it. sorry for any hurt feelings (not really, that was the whole point of the story-). character list is just some characters i DO write for that i think work for this story. also this won't be tagged properly, but it's fine

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

to them, the weight of their golden armour is equal to that of guilt and grief. the castle they swore to protect is a permanent reminder of their shortcomings, though they never expected to return so soon. their metal-clad figure decorates the deteriorating structure in flecks of fragmented sunshine along the sandstone hallways. the kaleidoscope of light is no longer disrupted by the servants’ shadows. instead, the faux sun lurks on the walls as they drag their feet along the floor. the scraping of metal along stone replaces the low murmurs of maids and the light footsteps of staff as they flitted around the castle. the echo is deafening, and they realise they despises silence. it isn’t true silence with the clanking of their armour, but it makes them painfully aware that they are a survivor. the rattling of metal causes them to be uncomfortably conscious of their isolated existence. glancing through ajar doors that line the walls, they longs for a semblance of home, yet they are met by blood-stained tile and mangled corpses littering the floor in unappealing heaps of sunken cheeks and open wounds. 

anita yasmine rosie luka penny william-

they step around them, gaze flickering to each of the faces paralysed by a still heart and wishes to lay with them, to feel the sticky black blood seep through their clothes and be held by the icy arms of death. they steel themselves against the pungent scent of rotting flesh, waving off the flies lingering around their head but failing to break through the helmet that conceals their shame and anguish.

the squeal of rusty hinges makes them close his eyes as they shakily exhale. their eyes flutter open at the quiet groan of the floorboards, and their breath hitches in their throat. it is as if colour returns to their vision, and they are several years younger, free of the faint crow’s feet stemming from the corners of their eyes and the dull ache in their chest.

it’s… the same. but you're not here.

silk sheets lay neatly atop the mattress, and the pillows remain meticulously arranged. they think if they sleep under the covers, they might smell your floral perfume on the pillowcases. they don’t entertain that idea. the sunlight filters through the translucent curtains, highlighting the blanket of dust that settles on the furniture and floor. the room hasn’t changed much since childhood; though it was sporadic, they were permitted inside. nonetheless, it was timeless. throughout all the phases of your life, it still felt like you.

they eye the vanity, clear of clutter but filled with nostalgia. the hairbrush is likely unusable – at least not without lacing dust and bugs through one’s hair – but it looked the same as when they originally gifted it. strands of hair weave between the bristles, and they wonder if their own locks are hidden away in the forest of DNA. 

the maids would have cleaned the hairbrush since I was a child.

they don’t touch anything; they knows what is tucked away in the drawers and boxes. there is one thing they allows themselves to taint with their touch. they pry a brick from the wall, reaching into the pocket of secrecy they’d made with you. a matted velvet box graces their armoured fingertips. they don’t feel the texture, but the box size is familiar. they carefully pluck it from the treasure trove of memories and broken promises, sliding the brick back into place. gently unclasping the box, they smile softly at the two rings that lay side by side. 

“one day, i’ll marry you!” they proclaim as you sit on the floor of your balcony. you giggle at their proposal and inquire about the rings you would wear if you married. “rings?” “you have to give me a ring to tell everyone that we’re getting married.” their little shoulders slump, and a pout forms on their lips. they sheepishly scuff their foot along the ground and tries to ignore the tears in their eyes. “...i don’t have one.” you sigh but give them a hopeful look. “but eventually you will?” they quickly brighten and grin through their tears as they lift their head to look at you. “yes! it’s gonna be like no other ring in the whole kingdom!”

they pocket the box and glance at the balcony. they kneel and bow their head, resting their right hand on their heart. when they rise, they look at the room before gently closing the door behind them as if you has retired for the night, and they don’t want to wake you. a practised method that hasn’t entirely left their bones.

as they descend the stairs to the ballroom, they nearly smile at the memory of the ball before the tragedy that befell the castle. they don't let it break through the perfectly crafted mask of neutrality. not when the ballroom floor is occupied by more lifeless bodies and darkened blood smears. they look to their side, wishing they could relive the memory of the ball and hoping they can look into your eyes as they escort you down the stairs, hoping you can share one last dance. 

but you're not here…

they raise their arms, supporting the memory of everything they long to return to, and waltz. there is no music, yet their timing is precise, and despite having no dance partner, their form persists. they ponder the events of the tragedy as they glide along the bloody floor and skirt around the dozens of corpses, each bearing a face they'd seen a million times and maybe even a little more. 

they can almost feel the weight of the spear they carried that day as they dance. they could hear your deafening scream as you were pulled into the crossfire. the sound follows them into their unconscious, a horrifying alarm. they never forgot the ache in their heart as their spear pierced through you. a human shield is a cowardly move in their mind, but the culprit had succeeded if the goal was to leave them with insurmountable guilt.

they come to a halt, bowing to the ghost of you. recalling your morning together beneath the gazebo, they gravitate to the imaginary scent of tea and pastries. the winter sun doesn’t fully reach them through the armour, and they attempt to resist the welcoming rays of warmth that beckon them to stay longer. they sit on the concrete bench they had called dibs on when they were twelve, ignoring the dull pain in their chest. slowly, they remove their armour. the metal feels warm despite the thin layer of ice along the lake the gazebo resided by. 

the metal plates rest neatly on the bench, and they shiver at the fresh, cool air that tickles their skin. they sigh and roll their shoulders free of lingering tension, allowing themselves a moment of tranquility. their eyes – drops of sunshine that had fallen from the heavens according to you – scanned the garden that built their childhood and adolescence. the twitch of their fingers goes unnoticed as they reminisce about their training to become a knight. the tightness in their throat is unacknowledged when they see the statue of you standing tall, proud and beautiful atop a marble pedestal. they wonder if the sculptor had taken a cast of you rather than building beauty with a reference. they clench their fist, imagining your fingers laced between theirs. they've memorised the sensation, embedding it into their brain each time your hands embraced over the years. flicking the box open, they let the rings fall into the palm of their hand.

“like no other in the kingdom”. heh… what an understatement.

they chuckle at their craftsmanship. it is what is expected when an eight-year-old finds wire to make a ring. they observe the jagged circle – if you could even call it that – and the haphazardly hidden wire ends that made them feel like an ant had bitten them. it was irritating beneath their little armoured hand, often coated in a thin layer of sweat, but now they crave the sharp sting that fades to a dull ache. perhaps the discomfort has travelled from their calloused and scarred skin to their weary bones and heavy heart.

they mindlessly hum a tune from their childhood as they unwind the wires, straightening them as best they can. their nimble fingers falter as their vision blurs, but they intertwine the wire into a band of love as the soft melody cracks and fades away. in their tunic, they shed responsibility and don youth while they recraft the rings as if they could rewrite history. the art of creating jewellery didn’t embed itself in their flesh and bones like combat did, despite their parents teaching them before they left the village.

a cold wind kisses their skin, and they wet their lips, gazing at their workshopped rings with a smile you claimed could warm even the most hostile souls. they rise with a newfound energy, standing before the ethereal marble effigy. their breath crystallises as they stare into the stony eyes of the statue, slipping a halo onto their ring finger. they don’t dare to tear their gaze away and finds their vision joining the misty gardens again. a short apology escapes them as they climb onto the plinth, slide the accompanying token onto your marble finger, and lay a chaste kiss on your icy forehead. they dismount the pedestal at the sound of shouting and is struck with a familiar paralysing experience. they can hear their pulse in their eardrums over the voices, and their limbs itch with the desire to escape.

no. i stay.

the faces that emerge from the tall grass aren’t familiar, but the old, blood-stained uniform brings ease. they don’t hear what the intruders declare over their heartbeat, but they focus on the sword shared between the looters. a sudden movement breaks their concentration, followed by a new ache in their abdomen, and they are acutely aware of the sword skewering their organs and poking through their tunic. the sturdy marble pedestal makes an ugly screech against the metal before meeting their back. they hiss when it’s pulled from its temporary sheath, dripping with red and shreds of tissue. the blood that coats the blade slides down the statue’s base, gathering in their hair and absorbing into their shirt. as they slump against the surface, they let their eyes flutter shut, and they faintly hear the footsteps of the intruders grow distant.

they frown as they lay on the lawn, ripping dry skin from their lips with their teeth. “can i ask you a question?” “you just did,” you respond with an ounce of playfulness.  “what if i fail?” you turn to face them with narrow eyes as if you dared them to elaborate. “what if i can’t protect you?” you stare for a moment as you debate your answer. they gaze into your eyes and look for a hint of uncertainty but is met with their insecurities as they reflect their image.  you flash a gentle smile and pick a blade of grass from their messy mop of hair. “i’ll see you soon, won’t i?”

a final smile tugs at their lips, and they exhale, weakly lifting their hand to look at the ring that failed to shine in the sliver of sunset light. the warmth disappears beneath the horizon, permitting the stars to adorn the navy skies, and their hand falls to the ground.

see you soon. i missed you. in our next life, maybe…