#bee hive with tap

[beekeepingsuppliesmelbourne]

5 Essential Hacks of Successful Beekeeping!

Beekeeping has become more popular in recent years due to its essential role in pollination and environmental preservation. As more people become involved in apiculture as a pastime or career, it is necessary to understand the essential elements of successful beekeeping.

For successful bee farming, enthusiasts must purchase some essential state-of-the-art equipment and supplies, necessary for farming. Well-established local Australian suppliers deliver cutting-edge tools such as bee hive with tap, hive traps, latches, clips, pollen traps, kits, and many other accessories in addition to local bees, queen bees, and drones.

Additionally, both the beekeeper and the bees need guaranteed hygiene, safety, and efficiency when using top-notch equipment. Farmers can have better results by streamlining the apiculture process including ergonomic hive equipment, protective gear with improved ventilation, and hive monitoring gadgets available online from local suppliers.

In addition, utilizing top-notch equipment, the real success lies in implementing effective techniques or hacks to optimize successful bee farming practices.

Firstly, a strategic hive placement can impact significantly productivity. Therefore, it is a must to select the right site for abundant nectar sources such as backyard gardens for beginners with a safe shelter such as readymade beehives to protect from harsh weather conditions is important.

Secondly, farmers must be consistent in monitoring bees and hive health for early detection of issues like disease or pests. They should use pest control from trusted stores to prevent potential disasters.

Third, people should be well-informed about seasonal changes and they need to adopt flexible practices for increasing honey production and bee population year-round.

Next, farmers should keep their eyes on proper queen-rearing or collecting local queen bees from well-known suppliers to maintain colony wellness and genetic diversity, essential for long-term sustainability.

Finally, they should employ natural methods to control pests and diseases minimize reliance on chemical treatments and promote healthier bee populations and honey quality.

Meanwhile, farmers should collect and use essential tools, techniques, and local bees from trusted suppliers and apply the aforementioned hacks for successful bee farming practices.

Source

[gobagx]

❝ i actually do care what you think about. you're probably one of the only people whose opinion matters to me. ❞

❝  i'm  telling  everyone  you  said  that,  ❞  he  says  with  a  clearing  of  his  throat,  a  wink,  standing  beside  samira,  and  inspecting  a  chart.  she's  come  to  him  for  advice.  jack's  been  trying  to  signal  for  months  that  she  doesn't  need  the  looking  after.  samira's  potential  is  evident  to  jack,  he  seeks  only  to  draw  it  out. 

in  him  lie  all  the  perfect  assets  of  a  teacher.  inspiring  students  to  trust  their  instincts,  be  brave,  be  bold  is  more  important  than  overcorrecting  them. 

index  finger  points  to  what  she  may  be  missing.  ❝  listen,  dr.  mohan,   ❞  dr.  mohan.  dr.  mohan,  not  samira,  not  sam,  not  sammy.  jack  emboldens  her.  he  reiterates  that  she  has  his  confidence.  ❝  you  can  do  this.  i  trust  ya.  ❞  eye  contact.  jack  is  hardly  ever  not  making  it.  hazel  irises  peer  directly  into  doey  brown  ones.  jack's  nodding  furiously.  gives  her  wrist  one.  good.  squeeze.  ❝  go  get  'em,  tiger.  ❞

[bogleech]

Many parasites takeover the minds and bodies of insects, spiders or other creatures, making them like zombies. You’ve listed some in spider-ween and other places. Do you know any parasites that take over bees? I know wasps lay their eggs in their larva, but haven’t really found anything about those that pilot a bee’s body.

Strepsipterans! Also frequently just called "Stylops"

These are the weirdest most alien insect group in existence. What you're seeing are the head ends of the mature females; their bodies are just bags of tissue that absorb nutrients from the host, so they no longer have any trace of limbs or wings and their flat little heads no longer have mouths or eyes.

The only reason the female's heads stick out of the host at all is because the head evolved into the end they mate with. The short-lived mature male is a very tiny flying thing (whose anatomy is unlike any other insect alive today - a totally unique type of wing, unique eye arrangement, we have NO idea what these evolved from, except for some loose connections to beetles!) who mates by breaking through the female's featureless armored face with his bladed genitalia and then he dies. And Strepsiptera can be found infecting all sorts of arthropods, even apparently some arachnids, but none of those arthropods really tend to sit still when a little tiny flying man tries to land on them, so the females usually do something to their hosts (we aren't sure what exactly) to make them slower and more complacent. Social Hymenoptera like bees are especially common hosts though, and when a worker bee or wasp is infected by stylops, she actually abandons her colony and her duties for extended periods of time to just perch in one place while the parasite broadcasts its mating pheromones. This is especially eerie from the bee's perspective; a worker bee is a female bee that wasn't allowed to become a queen and isn't "supposed" to be going around mating, but now she's sitting around waiting for a male just like any other bug that wants to be a mom. It's just not a male of her species and she's not the one who gets to reproduce. Is the parasite tapping into buried queen behavior? Does the bee's little brain think it's calling for a drone to help it start a new hive? Or does the parasite just make the bee a lazy slob who stops caring about her hive and just feels like chilling out on a flower all day? We might never know.

Here are those unique eyes of the male for anyone wondering. Not set in a fine multifaceted grid like in other insects, but clustered, still set in their own individual "sockets" like we see in much more ancient arthropods like trilobites! This suggests that Strepsipteran eyes date back to when insects were first beginning to evolve towards true compound eyes, but there still aren't many insects in the fossil record that have anything else in common with these animals. EDIT: oh yeah I forgot to include that these are in the children's book made by @revretch and I!

I did the rough pencil sketch of this page while Rev did the beautiful inks! I felt kids should know about these animals but I tried to explain it in the most kid-friendly way possible.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afabreader

PART EIGHT

Nsfw

Rena and Lyith had a system going. One of them would be glued to your side for most of the day, the other went off and did their job. Rena claimed that someone always needed to be at your side to protect you, but it honestly felt like more of an excuse for them to fool around.

They had been affectionate creatures before, but now they were tenacious, crowding you and pinning you down as they worked your body. It would start with them rubbing their cheeks upon you, crooning sweet nothings. This would then turn into caressing, messaging of muscles. 

Lyith had a habit of humping you as he rubbed your body, nipping at your skin as he played with your clit. His big black, pitiful eyes never left you as you'd crumble under the weight of your pleasure. He'd come straight after you, with very little touching. The way he'd stutter and groan always made your mouth water. Something about that voice of his did things to you.

Rena was more aggressive. She'd use her emotions to flood your mind. Your body would heat and prick with sensitivity under her lust. She'd play with your nipples, while pinning your hips to the cot, thrusting mercilessly. Occasionally, she’d lick long lines along your skin and you couldn't help but wriggle under her, the sensation sending bubbles of need to your core.

When you asked her later if she had some sort of aphrodisiac in her fluids, she'd given you a mischievous look before tutting, “What a compliment! If you want more of me just ask~”.

While you were very much enjoying all the attention(and orgasms), there hadn't been much time to consider the hive. Whenever the tragic thought of their fate filled your mind, there was one of your lovers, sucking on your skin, and slipping their fingers under your underwear.

This morning was no different. You'd settled yourself to consider the pros and cons. What had you wanted your life to look like before all this Bee-man nonsense? You had inherited a decent sum of money from your grandmother and had no real passion for a career. You had simply wanted to read as much as possible. Sure, you had wanted to fall in love and have kids eventually… but now? What would it be like, being a parent? 

Renas hands, which had been tracing little circles on your skin, where now starting to slither under your shirt hem, another messaging your thigh, as you'd been cuddling in the cot. Her happy nuzzling had stopped as she brushed her lips to yours, searching. You sighed into her, and returned the kiss, allowing your mind to go blank for a little bit.

After a moment you pulled away. 

“Rena… maybe we should go for a walk?”

Renas face was sulky for a second, before she sighed and rolled her way off of the cot. She flew up with a sudden ease and helped drag you up from your place in bed. 

“If you are bored, I could also kiss you in the air.” She gave you a smirk. “It could be quite exhilarating for you…” 

You rolled your eyes at her and leaned down to kiss one of her hands.

“We've been fooling around for the last two days. My legs need to move.” And with this, you walked past her and out into the hallway. Your muscles were indeed jelly, but you tried not to concentrate on that.

The tunnel was bright and airy, just like the infirmary had been. The tile felt cool under your toes as you hadn't bothered to put your shoes back on. The place was so clean, why bother. You tapped one of the glowing orbs and gave it a push. With your newfound mana you could sense that the thing had a quite a lot of fuel to burn. You looked up at the ceiling too, curious.

“Rena, I thought you guys had very limited magic stores. So how come you can make all this light?”

Rena answered with an edge in her voice, still a bit peeved. “We actually don't use much magic for that. The ceiling is made from a mixture of hair and bone dust, while the little lights are transformed waste.”

“...bone dust? What bones?” You asked, hoping for a different answer.

“Our ancestors. We serve to nourish our fellow hive mates, even in death.”

Your stomach turned. She frowned at you.

“Their souls have passed on. Why is it so distasteful? What is more beautiful than to be able to light the homes of the ones you love, even after death?”

“I just… you crush up your dead and then smoosh them on the ceiling??”

“No! It is ritual! You humans have something similar, a funeral? We all come together with our magic to slowly dissolve their earthy vessel, then bind their remains in equal distribution among the hive! It is a beautiful ceremony full of love! There is no ‘smooshing’!”

You just nodded, not fully being able to react to this information without offending Rena.

The two of you had made it out to the common area and through the tunnels.. As it turned out, the beeman you had been looking for was outside, out by the entrance of the hive. His eyes were on a book you had seen Lyith reading during down time. 

“Haven!”

He looked up from his book curiously, then jumped up, a dissolve of dancing wiggles at his excitement to see you. You ran towards him and Rena followed reluctantly behind you.

“Little Witch! You look to be doing much better!” He gave you a quick hug.

“Thank you. I was hoping you'd be able to take a walk with us? Actually, I wanted to talk to you about a few things.” you turned to Rena. “Alone?”

Rena quirked her eye at you then looked at Haven. His gaze was fixed in an expression of total contentment, but their was a buzzing of excitement coming from him. 

“I don't understand why I have to leave.”

You sighed. “The guards are right there. And you could even watch us from across the field. I was just hoping for a little privacy with my friend. I'm allowed to have that, right?” The irritation was palpable. 

Rena gave Haven a long look. She then made her way across the field, flying up to a high branch on a tree. Haven laughed lightly, and grabbed your arm, taking you to a little spot at the edge of the clearing.

As you sat down, his hands started to glow, and a small bubble formed around the two of you. Just like a bubble, the lights swirled like water, shifting. 

“Its just a small spell. You said you wanted privacy, so this should help keep anyone from eavesdropping.” He took his spot next to yours, purposefully giving you space. He crossed his legs and smiled at you in a friendly manner.

“I'm surprised you were even able to get away. Those two are some pretty high level drones, so their instincts must be driving them crazy right now.”

“High Level? Do you mean like mana level?” Your cheeks burned a bit, trying to ignore the knowing in his statement.

“In a way, yes. They both have high level mana, but they also have high classes.”

You looked at him in confusion and he tilted his head.

“I'm not surprised they haven't talked to you about it. So you know there are several types of Bee-men right? Your job is based on your potential. Part of that is your mana level, both of which Lyith and Rena also score high on, but its about how you are able to use that power. Rena is very good at manipulation magic. If they were around, she would be really good at harvesting from flower monsters. And Lyith is a Kvasir, like me! The only other one might I add.”

Your eyes raised in surprise. Lyith had never told you he was a Kvasir. His voice rang in your head. You had to admit you blushed a bit.

“But. Um. You said they were drones too right?”

“Do you know what a drone is, little Queen?” Havens tone changed to its huskier lilt. He leaned closer, not breaking eye contact.

“A drone is a someone whose job is to mate with the Queen, right?” 

He chuckled. 

“A drone among Bee-men is a class. Any Beeman can mate with a queen. But a drone refers to any who can give her eggs. That can vary a bit.”  Haven scooted himself closer to you, his head leaning closer to your ear conspiritorially. 

“Our hive only has around 10 drones, all on the younger end. The older ones died right after the last Queen. But being a drone isn't easy, Little Queen. Take your Lyith for instance. He's a very powerful drone. It must be so hard for him not to fill you every chance he gets.”

Your mind went to Lyith. How he had never entered you, despite all the heavy petting and moaning he had done. Your face burned even brighter now.

“I'm a higher class drone too, ya know? Us drones are usually the Queens aides. We feed you, make sure you want for nothing. Whatever you want of us.”

He took your hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of your middle finger.

“I would love to serve you as my Queen. We've always had so much fun, right? We would all love you so much too. Our hive.”

You squirmed under the rapt attention.

“I just… I don't know if I'd be a good fit. The thought of being a parent is so overwhelming… and I love being in human society. Going to cafes, and stores. Talking to people. I couldn't give up my humanity.”

There. You'd said it. You were afraid of losing everything you loved about being human.

Haven stared at you a moment, and nodded. “You don't have to give that up. You could go anywhere you want. You'd just need a guards. Or maybe a sweet and handsome drone with high mana.” He beamed at you. “I am pretty powerful myself you know. And as for being a parent, we would all help! Children are blessings, especially after all our hive has been through. Please."

Haven was pulling your hand to his face now, rubbing his cheek on your skin. It felt peculiar. You could tell he was trying hard to keep his emotions in check.

Despair, depression, hope and need all swirled together but he was locking it up as much as he could behind a wall. A wall you could get through with little effort it seemed. He heaved out a shaky breath.

“That's rude, ya know? Pushing yourself into my emotions like that. Anyone else I would be so mad with. But. You are such a kind and hardworking person. Despite being a foreigner, I can't help but want to know more of you.” He leaned his face towards yours.

“Can I kiss you? Please.” His sweet voice was a desperate plea. You glanced up at Rena, who was staring in the opposite direction, as if to give you privacy. 

You considered it a moment more before you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Havens. The tip of your tongue seemed to tingle, as well as your lips. It felt like their was a thread between you, pulling you closer to him. 

He slowly returned your kiss, carefully holding onto you. Your kiss grew deeper and you felt a hint of his emotion, of shackled hope pushing over the top of his walls. Of satisfaction. And peace. He found peace while kissing you, and a part of you loved him for it. 

Haven. Your bold, silly friend.

You pulled away slowly and looked into his large black eyes. He gave you the biggest grin.

“Please don’t break my heart. I didn't mean to give it to you. But you have it.” You just stared at him for a while, not being able to answer.

Would it really be so bad to be a Queen?

“Break the spell please.”

Haven popped the bubble with the flick of his wrist. You looked up to watch Rena descend to you.

“Is your business finished, Little one?” Her gaze didn't stray from Haven, her nose wrinkled.

“Rena, do you know when Lyith comes back from his duties?” Rena blinked.

“It should be in another hour, why?” 

“I want to ask you guys something.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms, worry furrowed her brows. “If there is something you want of us, just ask. We will do our best to help you.”

I glanced at Haven who stared at us with interest. “I want to say… fuck it. Fuck it all. Ill become Queen. Will you guys support me?”

Renas eyes widened, but she didn't seem surprised. “It won't be hard, I promise. We will all be there to support you. And Lyith would say the same.”

“But I do have one question." You shuffled a bit, nervious.

" If I want to spend time in town or travel, will your guyses mana be okay? I don't want ro be shackled to a room forever.”

Haven smiled at you, jumping up and down as if in excitement. Every piece of him was quivering. “Whatever you want! It won't hurt us as long as you come back in three days! Oh! This! This is so good I have to tell everyone!” He swooped to the guards at the entrance, dancing as he talked with them. The words couldn't be heard but his excited buzzing could. They quivered and spun around, knocking into the walls of the structure.

“You know he worked you over right? He may care for you, but from the start, all everyone wanted was your magic.” Renas voice was cold. But the worry for you overwhelmed everything else in her bond.

“I know. But I still care for all of you anyway. And I know you and Lyith love me for me.”

Rena didn't respond to this, just sighed and picked you up in her arms, leaning against a tree. You reached up and stroked her nose, letting your love for her fill your bond. As cold as she was she gave you a small smile. 

The two of you rested in silence for a long time. 

“Do you think ill be good at it?” You asked her, worry peaking through the calm of your shared affection. She shrugged.

“I'm sure you will make the role your own. And may the Kvas help whoever stands in your way.”

You cracked a smile, and kissed her. 

[sweetsuburbanlegends]

Honey Bee - Oneshot

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader (mentioned not shown)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: A quiet Sunday afternoon, a not-so-quiet mind.

A/N: I started writing this two years ago when I was in a really bad spot mentally and emotionally. At that time my father kept honey bees and they were such a huge comfort to me, and I would spend hours by their hives. We lost the bees at the same time we lost my childhood cat. Anyways lol, thought it was high time I finished this in their memory. Sorry to get so sappy in the A/N.

Despite the hardened edges of his body, the firm planes of muscle in his arms and chest, Marc was unbelievably soft. 

Soft and round and fuzzy like a bumblebee. 

He had the same nervous energy about him like one anyways. Never able to sit still long enough unless it was for a baseball game, or a movie you’d roped him into watching. 

Marc never did well with TV. Episodes that were too long for it to be a passing interest, too short for him to deem it worthwhile to get invested in. 

But there was an old baseball rerun playing this Sunday afternoon, and like tradition, Marc had to watch. He’d drifted from his perch on the couch to the ground, back pressed against the bottom of the sofa, legs spread out in front of him. 

Later, in the lazy, warm sun of the day, he’d drifted off. 

Remote-in-hand, mouth-open. Dad-style. 

It’s an impossibly soft image of him, one that belongs with fleece blankets and warm kitten fur. With Steven’s smiles and Marc’s laughs, ones that have become increasingly more common. Common enough that it’s worth noting.  

You stash the picture away inside your heart like a furtive secret meant only for your own eyes. Lost treasures of Atlantis, one-by-one, being found and shined, left to soak up the sun and the fresh air they’ve been lacking for forever and a day. 

It’s cute. He’s cute. 

He’d scoff at you if he knew that’s what you thought of him. 

But you also know that if you touched his cheek, it would be all hot and moments later he would kiss you senseless so as to win some time over to compose himself. 

With Marc asleep, and the low hum of the television as your sole companion, the thoughts had drifted in. 

They started when you started to slice an apple, peanut butter jar close at hand. Something you wanted to share with Marc through sticky kisses and giggles, savouring the last few bits of the weekend with him while you had the chance. Early Sunday afternoon stretching out to fill the hours twice fold, making up for it later in the evening. 

Voices from your childhood echo through your ears instead, overpowering the good, sweet thoughts of the beauty pressed into Marc Spector and making tears gather at your eyes. 

They’re not pleasant thoughts to be having. You know that this will dampen your mood for the rest of the day, that the heavy fog will not lift without a good night’s sleep. 

There'll be a lag on all your actions, a slur to your words that Marc will inevitably pick up on when he wakes. 

You feel guilt creep onto the torrent of emotions swirling in your lungs. Guilt for tainting the sunshine and peace that Marc rarely ever gets to enjoy. 

You decide that you’ll help him up onto the couch, spread a blanket over him so he won’t get cold, and retreat to the bathroom to let the tears out, away from his eyes. 

There are gentle snores coming out of him, in rhythm with his chest. They tug at your heartstrings. A real and simple reminder of his reality that makes you want to fuse your skin to his, so as to bask in the tender light of his being. 

The softness of Marc is a stark contrast to the ghosts of your past, siren-like screeches that tug at your ankles. Though he normally brings you buckets of comfort, right now the difference between the two is jarring, it reminds you of all you deserved and didn’t get.

The knot in your throat tightens and you hope that Marc will fall asleep before you get to the bathroom and that the sound of the tap running will drown out the sounds you’ll make, kill them off before they reach the safe bubble he’s created for himself. 

He murmurs when you press a hand to his shoulder, eyes fluttering and giving back into sleep. 

Changing methods, you start to gently tug the remote out of his hand. 

He awakes long enough for his eyes to catch onto you. Without a second thought, he reaches for the pillow and blanket on top of the couch and pulls you down with them. 

You’re not sure if he’s actually awake or just moving on instinct; if he’s noticed that something’s wrong, or if he genuinely wants you beside him in his haven of sunshine and baseball. 

In seconds, he’s cocooned you within his arms, your face to his chest. The smell of him is engulfing; you hope it gets ingrained into your lungs. 

Marc mutters something about getting back to sleep and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

You shouldn’t have let it derail this far and this quickly. 

But you’ve never been particularly strong-willed when it came to Marc anyways, so you also give into the heavy tug of your eyelids, the comforting weight of the sunny afternoon and the murmurings of the baseball game, the feel of Marc’s chest moving like the ocean’s waves against your chest lulling you into a dreamless sleep. 

When you wake, your throat is still tight, eyes stinging with the promise of tears. 

You try to not let them get the best of you, but they do, rolling down your cheeks and neck. 

Their tracks start to itch as they dry, but your arms are around Marc’s waist, his belly pressing into yours, and you can’t move for fear of disturbing him. 

The baseball game has ended, the golden light spilling in the window more reddish now than yellow. It’s the beginning of the end of Sunday, the clocks picking up in speed to make up for the time they lost throughout the afternoon. 

There’s a commercial playing now on the television. About some sort of dishwasher. 

The noise is grating. You don’t know if it’s possible to turn it off without waking Marc up, without him seeing you cry. 

You won’t ruin his days off like this, won’t let yourself do it. 

You came into Marc’s life to make him happy. 

And you’ve succeeded so far, you won’t lose this progress. 

Despite your thoughts and worries, he stirs awake with a quiet grunt. Before you have the time to hide away like a snail in its shell, he lifts himself away from you letting your heart sink into your chest. 

Though still not completely better, his presence has done wonders, as it always does, to soothe your aches a little, quiet the voices. 

You suppose it was a bit idiotic to suppose that he wouldn’t pick up on your sour mood without you letting him know. 

You’re also remarkably glad for him for leaving you like this, for being selfish and putting himself and his weekend first. 

He sits up and reaches over you; you quickly hide your face in the pillow to lessen the damage that’s already been done. It smells like him, like the oil he uses in his hair and his aftershave. 

The sounds of the commercial are shut off, there’s a clatter of plastic against wood as he tosses the remote aside. The silence is soul-cleansing, akin to turning off the fume hood after you’re done cooking. You’re able to hear it, to touch it. 

It’s silent save for the shuffling sounds of Marc’s body as he comes to lay back down beside you.

He must have not noticed that you’re awake, that your eyes are soaking the pillowcase underneath your head, that you’re not sure how long you can keep doing it silently. 

Any coherent plans have flown out the window. Your body is strung tight from the exertion of holding it all in, an over-saturated solution, salt crystals spinning and spinning and not dissolving no matter how quickly the water swirls around itself. 

He runs the backs of his fingers from the top of your ear to the curve of your jaw. 

They stop when he feels wet skin. 

Now it’s time to do what you should have done from the beginning. Marc’s already found out too much. 

A mirror of his movements from moments earlier, you start to pull away from him. 

To your surprise, he stops you. Cups your cheek and guides your eyes to his. 

His gaze is searching, flitting over your face and trying to figure it out. Weaved into his eyes you can see his own guilt growing. 

“No,” you murmur, voice watery. You wrap your hand around his wrist to keep him where he is. “Not you. S’never you, Marc.” 

However this decides to unroll, he needs to know this one truth. You’ll repeat it for him like a broken record player if you have it, until he’s accepted it. 

You would have let him know if he had upset you. 

Given him the clarity and consistency he craved as a child and never received. 

The tension creeps out of his shoulders and he shuffles forward a little. Though there are some parts of him that are doubting your words, there are much larger pieces of him, like golden honeycomb candy, that fight against and accept the truth you hold out to him as easily as you do your heart. 

He nudges the tip of his nose against yours, still quietly keeping eye contact with you. 

So lost in thoughts of Marc, you’ve forgotten that your tears are still falling down in clumpy balls. 

He tsks and wipes them away. The pads of his fingers are rough, but you don’t think anything softer or gentler has touched your face. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

You shake your head again, let go of his wrist to smooth your palm against the side of his face, “Nothing.” He shoots you a look. You know it’s a feeble attempt at sticking to your original plan. The curve of his eyebrows quiets the static inside your mind, it always amazes you what his mere existence can do. “Marc, you’re so good.” 

The edges of his mouth have hardened over. Marc doesn’t like not knowing what makes you cry, he’s never satisfied with just knowing that it wasn’t him. He’s a glaring, beautiful contrast to all your other past partners. 

“I love you,” you murmur. When you blink, a couple more tears fall, your voice cracks, “Do you love me?” 

He shuffles forward, a little bit more he’s going to go out focus he’ll be so close, “Yeah, honey.” Physically, all that surrounds you is Marc; you wish it would be just as easy to have him haze into your mind, never to leave again, leaving no room for bad things. “I love you.” 

“I love you. You’re so good to me, Marc.” Even his name rolls around like a marble in your mouth, “Marc, baby.” 

There’s a dent that arises between his eyebrows that you push away with your thumb. It returns stubbornly, his arms curling around your waist, underneath your shirt. His fingers press little circles into your skin. 

“You want Steven?” 

“No,” your chest tightens down the middle. “No, not unless you don’t want to be here with me.” The words hurt, but you feel they ring true. This was never supposed to have gotten out of hand like it has. You know your cryptic half-sentences aren’t doing much to soothe his worries, his weekend now for sure ruined. “I want you.” 

He shakes his head, takes your hand in his and kisses the pad of your pointer finger. Bringing it to rest on his shoulder, he runs his palm down the side of your face, the same way you'd done earlier. “Wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” 

You filter through your words like they’re shelved in a library; you’re choosy and picky with them. “Just thinking about my childhood, s’all.” 

“Oh.” Tides upon tides of emotions rise and fall in his eyes. You wonder why you ever thought that Marc was unreadable, when he wore his heart on his sleeve, his soul in his eyes. “Bad stuff?” 

“It’ll go away soon enough…” your eyes fall away from him. “M’sorry.” 

He hasn’t let this go, your words having scared him more than being of those of reassurance, just like you had feared, just like you hadn’t wanted them to. As always, he’s going to shoulder this on himself, if not on something he’s done, on his being asleep, protective guard falling away for a brief moment and the old haunts of your past slipping in easily. 

“Wish you’d tell me.” He settles finally, the swarm of anxiety in his eyes calming. He says it low, that gentle, murmuring tone you liked so much, as if he didn’t want to scare you away. 

The thought of it again brings tears to your eyes, you sniff and shake your head, “I’ll just go back to mine.” You’re about to move away when a warm hand wraps around your arm. 

Earnest, honeyed eyes look back at you, flickering back and forth across your face, wide and fawn-like. Honey bees swarming around his ears. “You’re crying.” 

Gently, quietly, he pulls you back. Tired and buckling under the weight, you let him, and he tucks your head underneath his chin. You hear him turn the TV back on, a Seinfeld rerun. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

[bookofthegear]

You decide that the safest thing to do is talk the statue through what you’re doing. “Right. I just need to borrow—borrow! Not keep!—this coin from you for just a minute…”

With the narrow end of the coin and some very cautious work, you manage to wind the clockwork bee. You stop as soon as you feel the spring tightening, afraid to accidentally snap the mechanism, then return the coin to the niche, along with the shiniest coin in your wallet. “Thank you,” you tell the statue. “I appreciate it.”

Then you set the bee down on the floor and wait.

The bee’s antennae move first, sweeping slowly back and forth through the air. It extends one delicate leg, taps the ground, then another one. The wings flex carefully. Then, with startling speed, it launches itself into the air, circles you once (gratitude? curiosity? assessing for nectar source?) and flies back the way you came, presumably in the direction of the hive.

Rescuing frogs, repairing bees…you’re leaving the labyrinth better than you found it, at any rate. Grandma would be proud.

Meanwhile, you’re still at the T-intersection. Neither direction has any real distinguishing features. Jimmy says “Pick one, boss.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s your first day at work. Your nerves have simmered over to a nice whirlwind. Even as you sit at your desk, going through the various training materials. You haven’t managed to calm down. Your heart is beating so fast.

Everyone’s been nice. You don’t know why you’re jittering. Like your mother says, you’re overthinking, and like your father says, you need to sit still. You grab the armrests and try to make yourself stop moving. It only makes you want to boil over.

You swivel back and forth and look at your coworkers. They’re all so busy like bees in a hive. They know exactly what they’re doing and you still feel lost as you sift through endless SOPs and corporate training videos.

You see a woman with purplish red curls with a mug, steam curling over the brim. Ah, that’s a good excuse for a break. You still need to figure out the office coffee machine. Daniella, your supervisor, briefly pointed it out during her tour. It’s one of those fancy industrial pod brewers.

You stand and nearly skip between the desks. Be cool. You slow your pace and hold your shoulders straight, your squared toed kitten heels clacking on the tile. You poke your head into the kitchen and find only one other employee inside.

The man’s shoulders are broad and straight as he stares silently at the coffee machine. It grinds and spurts out dark coffee. You come up next to him to peruse the spinning rack of pods, tapping your chin as you think. You peek over at him.

“Hi,” you smile, “any recommendations?”

His pale blue eyes meet yours for an instant before quickly flicking back to his cup. A plain black porcelain mug without any decoration or glitz. You already know which cup you want to bring in; the one that looks like a honey pot and has a small lid resembling a bear sticking his head out with a little honeycomb stitch between his ears.

You take one of the paper cups and a pod of the butterscotch twist. You stand back and wait your turn. He scowls as if mentally urging the cup to fill.

“I’m…” you introduce yourself, “I just started over in Research and Development.”

He doesn’t respond. He puts his hands behind him, clutching them tightly as his forearms tense. The tendons bulge out beneath his skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, a grey button up with black trousers. A bit grim but an aesthetic for sure. There’s several rings on his fingers as they curl around each other.

“It’s my first day,” you continue the one-sided conversation, “so… that’s why you never saw me before.”

He growls and grabs his cup as the machine dings. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he turns on his heel and marches out. You watch his back and shrug, blowing out between your lips. You get it, some people aren’t the social type.

You put your cup under the spout and tap the touchscreen. It takes you a lot of poking around to figure out how to brew the coffee. You step back and wait. Caffeine should definitely help your nerves… fuel them at least.

💗

Lunchtime comes and you grab your bento box and head down to the cafeteria. Daniella said you could eat your desk if you wished but you need a break from the screen. Besides, you notice that most people don’t.

You enter the cafeteria. There are tables here and there but they’re already crowded. You notice a few people from your department and head over to that table. Tammy moves her bag onto the seat before you can claim it. You frown and apologise as you back away.

Hmm.

You look around. You don’t know anyone. You don’t mind making new friends but it’s like high school all over again. Everyone has their clique and you’re just wandering in between.

Your gaze falls on the only table with more than one seat free. There’s a single person sitting at it, his head down as he runs his hand over his close cut hair. Hey, it’s… that guy. He didn’t give you his name.

You cross the room and near a chair, putting your hand on the back of it as you hover by the table.

“Hi, um, do you mind if I sit here?”

His eyes dart up and he says nothing. He shrugs and sits back, smoothing out the pages of the book in front of him. You sit, your bento box clanging loudly as you do. You give a sheepish smile as he clears his throat but doesn’t look at you.

You flip back the clasp and pop open the lid. He shifts in his chair as you take out your plastic cutlery from the little compartment. You try to be quiet but you can’t help but hit the fork off the side.

You look over at him. He has only his empty mug and a half-eaten protein bar. You look back at your colourful medley of food. Maybe he’s on a diet.

“Do you like hummus?” You ask.

He doesn’t look up. You bite your lip. You’re just being friendly but maybe he’s not hungry.

“Um, uh, you remember me?” You poke at your couscous, “from the kitchen? I didn’t get your name.”

He sighs and turns the page. You nod. Not much of a talker. You let your fork lean on the edge of the bento and grab the sides of your chair, scraping it closer. He snarls and finally looks at you.

You stop and show your teeth like a threatened animal. His jaw clenches and he refocus on his book. You stir the couscous and take a bite, swallowing as your curiosity piques.

“What are you read–”

“I’m not,” he grits and shuts the book without marking the page.

He stands and pockets the protein bar, swiping up his mug and book. You gape at him, stunned. You don’t know why he’s so upset. You’re just trying to be polite. He storms away and you frown at your food. Well, you’ve always got a friend in snacks!

[disasterbuck]

Buck, you have food on your face

706 words inspired by this instagram video: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C72LNWTNb82/

read Eddie’s version here

Wiping his hands on his napkin, Eddie turned to look at Buck and see how close he was to finishing his burrito. The two of them were sitting on Eddie's couch, a documentary on bees playing on the TV while they ate.

Buck had already finished eating and was now simply absorbed in the film, eyes glued to the screen. He had a smudge of sauce on his cheek which he seemed unaware of, and Eddie smiled fondly before tapping his shoulder to get his attention.

It took a moment for Buck to tear his eyes away from the screen, engrossed as he was. When Eddie finally had his attention, he pointed at Buck's cheek and then tapped his own to indicate where the sauce was.

Without pausing, Buck leaned over with a smile to kiss Eddie's cheek.

Eddie froze.

"That's… not… You have sauce on your face!" Eddie stammered.

"What?" Buck frowned and put a hand to his cheek, finding the sauce. Looking extremely embarrassed as he reached for his napkin, he muttered, "Oh."

Heart racing, Eddie was silent as Buck cleaned his face. The documentary kept droning on in front of them, talking about how bees would use different dances to communicate information to the rest of the hive, and Eddie tried resolutely not to think about how natural it had felt to have Buck kiss his cheek.

"Are you okay?" Buck asked after a moment, and Eddie was surprised to see him staring not at the TV but at him.

"I'm fine," he said weakly.

"Are you sure?" Buck pressed. "Cause you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I just wasn't expecting you to kiss me," Eddie admitted, then instantly regretted his words as his mind provided him with an image of a very different kiss to the one that had just happened.

"Sorry," Buck said, his face flushing a beautiful pink. "I don't know why I thought that's what you wanted me to do."

"It's okay," Eddie said quickly, not wanting Buck to get down in his feelings. "I liked it."

"You did?" Buck looked over at him hopefully, eyes so wide and blue that Eddie didn't have a chance to chastise himself for letting the words slip out. Buck was so beautiful and so eager. How could Eddie do anything but tell the truth?

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I did."

A shy smile slowly curled Buck's lips and Eddie swallowed nervously when he realised they were getting closer to each other. He wasn't sure which of them had moved, or whether it was both of them, but soon Buck's nose bumped against his and Eddie parted his lips in an uncontrollable gasp.

"Can I kiss you?" Buck whispered.

"You're missing the documentary," Eddie murmured, inwardly cursing himself for saying something so inane.

Smirking, Buck shifted to graze his lips across Eddie's cheek again. "Yes or no," he breathed, the words hot against Eddie's skin.

Eddie meant to answer, to say yes. But when he tried to he found that his lips were otherwise occupied. Without consciously deciding to, he'd taken Buck's face in his hands and pressed their lips together eagerly and now he couldn't make himself stop.

Thankfully, Buck wasn't objecting.

Surprising himself with his boldness, Eddie found himself climbing onto Buck's lap and deepening the kiss, swallowing every groan and gasp that came from Buck's mouth. The kiss turned slightly feverish, lips sucking and tongues searching and hands gripping, clutching, touching. Buck tasted like the burrito he'd just eaten; it was delicious.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness as a power cut killed the lights and the television. Eddie sat back on Buck's thighs, staring at the outline of his face in the darkness.

"Was that us?" Buck asked with a delighted chuckle.

"Sure," Eddie said sarcastically. "Our kiss was so powerful it killed the lights."

Buck's hands slid to Eddie's ass and gave a gentle, teasing squeeze.

"That was like getting struck by lightning," Buck whispered reverently. "But better."

Eddie wanted to tell him off for referencing the lightning strike, but there was a lump in his throat. So instead of speaking, he leaned in for another kiss.

As their lips met, the power came back on.

-

Taglist:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @sunflower-eddiediaz

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

@smilingbuckley @realpersonwithrealfeelings @superlock-in-the-tardis @mjthe14thdoctor @strxwbereee

@idontknowwhatimdoing777 @ashleigh2658 @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @mineyneedsmoney @faithhopeandmisery

@spotsandsocks @unlifeira @tofanasmuse @pirrusstuff @buddiedaydreamer911

@littlevampireprincessuniverse @misshiss727 @i-put-the-star-in-bastard @hermioneindisguise

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

Wordcount: 1.5K

~~~~

No-one comes to drag Virgil out of bed. He wakes on his own the next morning and for a few moments contemplates getting out of bed, but then he rolls over and goes back to sleep. It’s his day off, he doesn’t have any plans, and he is cozy.

He wakes again around noon, and wanders downstairs. There’s no-one in the sitting room, but he finds Patton in the dining room, curled up in the armchair with a book.

“Good morning!” Patton greets cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “You?”

Patton’s eyes crinkle up in a pleased smile. “I did, yes, thank you,” he says. 

Virgil fidgets, just a little, and he glances back toward the door. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Hm,” Patton says thoughtfully, tapping the book against his chin. “Logan’s in his office, and last I saw him, Roman was still asleep, poor dear.” He chuckles. “You two sure were up real late last night. And Remus and Janus aren’t here right now, but they were going to come to dinner, so they should be arriving in a few hours.” He pauses, thinking. “I don’t think anyone else was planning to be here today, but I might have forgotten something, or they might’ve forgotten to mention it. That happens sometimes.”

“Must make meal planning difficult,” Virgil says.

“It can,” Patton agrees. “But I like to make sure we have plenty of leftovers anyway, so a surprise guest or two isn’t very hard to accommodate.” He smiles gently at Virgil. “Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”

“If you’re offering,” Virgil says, because they have been incredibly hospitable to him so far, but he doesn’t want to presume anything.

“Oh of course,” Patton says, setting his book down. “I hate to leave anyone hungry when there’s food in the house. What would you like? Are you in the mood for a breakfast breakfast, or something more lunchy?”

Virgil hesitates. “I don’t want to make you cook something just for me,” he says.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Patton reassures him. “I like cooking. But we do have leftovers in the fridge if you would like something quicker.”

Virgil nods a little. “What are my options?”

“Well, we’ve still got plenty of what we had last night, of course,” Patton says consideringly, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Virgil follows. “And I made a fresh batch of boiled eggs this morning.” He opens the fridge and peers inside, then waves Virgil over. “Take a look, anything look appetizing?”

Virgil joins Patton in front of the fridge and looks inside. ‘Plenty of leftovers’ may have been an understatement. The fridge is quite full, mostly of containers. There’s no way Virgil can possibly see all the options without taking most of the contents out to see what’s behind them, and he is not about to do that.

Trying to be quick, Virgil scans the food visible through the sides of the containers. He sees white rice, mixed vegetables, something brown that’s probably gravy, mashed potatoes, a couple drumsticks… 

He knows, reasonably, that everything in this fridge is probably very good. He is also sure that if he was sat down and served any of these choices, he would eat it without complaint and be pleased with it. But just now, looking at the leftover containers, his stomach and taste buds rebel, and nothing looks appealing. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil says. It’s not that he isn’t hungry. His stomach is very helpfully informing him that it is currently empty. It is just also telling him, simultaneously, that there isn’t a single food in the entire world that will satisfy, and unfortunately it has annexed his tongue to its side. His brain, meanwhile, is yelling that he’s taking too long to decide, and he needs to hurry up and pick something before Patton gets upset at him for letting all the cold out of the fridge.

Patton makes a sympathetic sound. “Too many options to choose between?” he says softly. “Would you like me to prepare you a plate?”

Virgil’s very bones go limp. “Yes please,” he says weakly, glad to have the decision taken out of his hands.

Patton rests his hand gently on Virgil’s arm. “Why don’t you go wait in the comfy chair, and I’ll bring you some food in a minute,” he suggests gently.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and goes. Just as he settles, Patton appears in the doorway again with an empty plate in his hands.

“You don’t have any dietary restrictions, do you?” he asks. “I know it’s a bit late to be asking, but…”

“No, I’ll eat anything,” Virgil says, fondness rising in his chest. “Thanks for checking.”

“You’re welcome,” Patton says, and goes back into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later, the plate now laden with a large slice of lasagna. “Do you want to come eat at the table, or over there?” he asks.

“Table, definitely,” Virgil says, moving. Much less risk of spilling red tomato sauce on their furniture that way, plus he’d rather not try to balance a hot plate on his lap right now. He sits, and Patton places the plate in front of him. Virgil���s eyes go wide. In addition to the lasagna, there’s a slice of home-baked bread with butter and jam, and a small heap of peas and corn. “Just how big do you think my appetite is?”

Patton chuckles. “Sorry,” he says. “Force of habit. Roman would clean that plate and then ask for seconds, especially after sleeping through breakfast.”

“I can believe it,” Virgil says with a laugh.

Patton pats his shoulder, then moves away. “If it’s too much, we can put some of it back,” he says as he reclaims the armchair. “You don’t have to eat all of it.”

He’s certainly going to give it his best go, Virgil’s stomach informs him seriously. His tongue agrees.

Virgil starts with a large bite of bread. It’s no longer fresh-baked, but Patton had re-warmed it. Toasted, maybe? There’s a bit of crunch to it, though it’s still pleasantly soft, not hard as a rock like most toast.

Roman makes an appearance when Virgil’s about halfway through his meal, wearing only a white tank top and a pair of red shorts. Virgil isn’t sure if they’re loose boxer shorts or thin actual shorts, but he’s not about to stare at Roman’s crotch and/or ass long enough to figure it out, and he’s certainly not about to ask.

Probably they’re actual shorts. Roman has so far struck him as having somewhat more decorum than Remus, and probably wouldn’t walk around in just his underwear with a random person in his house.

Probably.

“Ooh, that looks delicious, I want some of that, is there more?” Roman says in greeting, completely oblivious to Virgil’s inner musings.

“There’s one piece of lasagna left, and plenty of the rest,” Patton tells him, and Roman strides into the kitchen.

He returns after a few minutes with a lunch identical to Virgil’s, except that the heap of vegetables is taller, and he has a second, already half-eaten slice of bread in his hand. Also his jam is a different color. Roman plonks himself down in the chair diagonally adjacent to Virgil and grins at him. “Good morning,” he says cheerfully. “I see you did not flee into the night like Cinderella.”

“If I was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, it would have happened well before Patton came to tell us to go to bed,” Virgil points out.

“True,” Roman agrees. He turns and points his fork at Patton. “Patty Cake, if he ever turns into a pumpkin, don’t bake him into a pie,” he says.

Patton laughs. “How many times must I promise not to eat him?” he asks.

“Once more, it seems,” Virgil says. “For what it’s worth, I believed you the first time.”

Patton’s eyes twinkle. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you sleep well?” Roman asks Virgil. Virgil nods. As if he could have slept poorly, in that bed. And it was certainly nice to get to sleep in late. “Good, good. After breakfast, do you wanna watch more tv?”

Virgil laughs. “You’re insatiable,” he says.

“We left off on a cliffhanger!” Roman defends. “And I, for one, was thoroughly enjoying myself up until the point at which we were reminded of the cruel passage of time and the physical needs of our frail human bodies.”

“I was having fun too,” Virgil agrees. And, well, he doesn’t have any better plans for his afternoon off. It’ll be fun. He’ll just have to remember to actually bike home before it gets dark again.

“Excellent!” Roman says, clearly taking that as a yes, and tucks into his meal with gusto.

~~~~

Chapter 9: Come for the Bike, Stay for the Game Night

may have a brief break in my regularly scheduled chapter posting, as I've caught up to myself and am still writing chapter 9. So, we'll see if it's ready next week, but likely not.

[retic-pithon]

hivewing headcanons

okay lets start with traits n stuff

most impressive features are hereditary and have been bred into the noble lines, but there are some that are random.

all venomous traits are random, and they can have venom in the following places

teeth (10% of the population)

claws (9%)

wrist stingers (24%)

tail stinger (20%)

(not venom but in the category) spit acid (10%)

(pulling these numbers out of my ass)

being fluffye is hereditary and is mainly nobles (about 40% of the population)

mandibles (in the corners of mouth) are hereditary and have been bred into the noble lines (30%)

the second set of smaller claw-like arms are all females

antennae are hereditary but there are very few with them (2%)

second set of eyes, very rare, revered and the ones in the past were considered to be chosen by the gods, none alive today

6 claws on the front paws are hereditary and most nobles have them (my oc carniolan does, fun fact) (42%)

cultural stuff

they wear many warm colors to compliment their scales, and do have quickly changing fashion trends.

trans hivewings are not all that rare, both ways, and there are gender-affirming surgeries and items, including making fake second sets of claw arms, and covering said claw arms with cloth and binding them close to their body. there is not much gender dimorphism in hivewings other than the second set of arms, with females being the slightest bit bigger

polyamory is fairly common in hivewings, as well as pansexuality

they also have travelling circuses and performers, with contortionists and trapeze artists, and plenty of dragon exclusive performances

they also often communicate with small dances and scents, much like bees, with little foot taps and tail swishes when they don't want to speak, can't, or can only convey what theyre feeling through dance

they leave faint scent trails and make and sell pungent and unique perfumes, and you will often find the huge parties of say, jewel hive, to be rather assaulting to the nose (not necessarily bad, but very, very strong.)

they also wear makeup

[beekeepingsuppliesmelbourne]

Beekeeping: A Fascinating Look At the World of Bee Colonies

It makes sense that more individuals are engaged in urban beekeeping as a wave of urban vegetation and municipal food systems begin to crash into their cities. Urban beehives, which are a response to the growing national and international trend towards urban beekeeping, are sprouting up all over Melbourne, nestled in a public reserve.

Modern agricultural systems and horticulture depend on the humble bee hive with tap, the amazing pollinator that they sorely need. Given the alarming news reports about dwindling bee populations, it is understandable that our natural tendency is to help animals adapt to their well-manicured urban environment for their own sake and their own.

Parts and Kits for Beekeeping with Safety Equipment

Having the proper tools is necessary to get going. Seek out shops in Melbourne that sell parts and kits for beehives. These consist of necessary components such as bottom boards, coverings, frames, and hive bodies. Safety is a key priority in beekeeping.

With this protective gear, you can inspect and manage your hives without getting stung by bees. In contrast, using this method of harvesting avoids destroying, upsetting, and distressing a portion of the number of bees within the hive by having the beekeeper remove the frame and scrape off the honey.

Understanding What is the Hive of Flow?

A specifically constructed habitat, the Flow Hive allows bees to live, work, and do exactly what they do best—make honey. With a single, significant exception, it resembles a conventional hive exactly. To harvest honey, all the beekeeper needs to do is switch on an exterior valve, which causes it to pour out like water from a faucet.

These frames have a distinctive design that completely transforms the extraction and harvesting of honey. The groundbreaking aspect of these frames is not their plastic construction, but rather their ability to move the comb within them with a simple twist of a valve, allowing all of the honey contained inside to easily escape.

Source

[markrosewater]

Hi, will we get more insects in White? Specifically swarming/hive insects like bees, as their whole point is unity. Hoping bloomburrow has some of them!

We’ve talked about having hive insects in white. I could see a doing it in the right world. Bloomburrow is tapping into the anthropomorphic animal genre. Insects aren’t a huge part of that.

[the-spam-specialist]

Drabble idea: you could have Kinger and Queenie get in a silly argument over if bees or butterflies are better? Maybe Caine could be a tie breaker?

I think we all know which side Caine is gonna take

Buggy Tiebreaker

Characters: Kinger, Queenie, Young Caine

Word Count: 400-ish

Caine sat in front of Kinger and Queenie, comfortably perched on a cushion. He had decided to take a seat and listen to what they had been talking about. Something about bugs. Specifically butterflies and bees. 

“Butterflies are clearly superior,” Kinger proclaimed, adjusting his purple robe with a regal air. “Elegant, graceful, they flit about like living jewels. Flying metaphors for the changes we all go through in life. They’re pure poetry in motion!”

Queenie chuckled, her red robe rustling as she leaned forward. “Oh, Kinger, you’re so easily charmed by pretty things. Bees, on the other hand, are vital. They’re the engine of nature! Busy, productive, and they make honey! Have you ever seen a butterfly make honey, Kinger?”

Kinger sputtered, his chess piece form momentarily losing its composure. “Honey is…well, it’s sticky. And bees sting!” He shuddered dramatically. “Butterflies are harmless, gentle creatures.”

“True, butterflies are lovely, but they are rather aimless compared to bees,” Queenie countered playfully, tapping her chin. “They just flutter around looking pretty. Bees have purpose! They build hives, they pollinate flowers, they work as a team!”

Caine, who had been listening intently, his wide, googly eyes blinking, finally spoke. “Butterflies are very colorful!” he offered, trying to contribute to the debate. “Like the lights in the tent!”

Kinger beamed, “Exactly, Caine! You see my point. Aesthetic brilliance!”

Queenie playfully nudged Caine's arm. “And bees are fuzzy and buzzy!” she exclaimed. “Have you ever felt a bee’s fuzz? It’s so soft!”

Caine's eyes widened in fascination. He remembered the times he had created bumblebees for The Grounds. He remembered how much he liked them. “It’s true! Bees are fuzzy and buzzy!” 

Kinger, sensing an opportunity, leaned towards Caine. “I think I know how to settle this. Caine, my boy, you be the judge. Which is better? Butterflies, the elegant dancers of the sky, or bees, the…stinging laborers?” 

Caine pondered for a moment, his denture head tilting slightly. He thought about butterflies, pretty wings fluttering, yes, nice. But then…fuzzy and buzzy. He giggled, the sound like a cheerful chime.

“Bees!” Caine declared with absolute certainty. “Bees are better! They’re so fuzzy and buzzy and bumbly!” He happily bounced a little on his cushion, his ribbon bells ringing with enthusiasm.

Queenie beamed, her red robe practically radiating warmth. “That’s my boy!” she exclaimed, reaching out to ruffle the top of his head. “See, Kinger? Even Caine knows the real value of bees! Well…at the very least, he appreciates their fuzziness.”

Kinger slumped dramatically, feigning defeat. 

“Betrayed by my own son,” he groaned, though a smile played in his eyes. He knew it wasn't really about insects. It was about the joy of debate, the playful banter, the warm feeling of family they had built together in this bizarre, boundless circus. And if Caine preferred fuzzy, buzzy, bumbly bees, well, Kinger could learn to appreciate bees a little more too.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Sticky Situation- Part 9

Part 8

Hero woke up in an all-too-familiar situation. Inside a pod, squeezed in with expanding foam from all sides, not to mention a large, heavy gag made up of too many layers. This pod felt different somehow. For one thing, the foam was ice-cold, which would’ve been nice if it wasn’t being used as a restraint. Through the little window, they could see that they had been moved to an operating room of some kind. In addition, they could see some kind of tube connecting their pod to another one directly across from them.

A door opened, and Assistant came into view, being roughly escorted by henchmen on either side. They had been gagged just as heavily, and their wrists had been secured with industrial tape. Scientist came in next, followed by Supervillain.

“Nice to see you again, Hero,” Scientist said in a chipper voice.

“Unlike your usual arrangements, we’ve placed you inside a device that will allow us to extract your cryogenic essence. Imagine yourself as a little ice battery. You’ll power the participant inside the pod across from you, giving them a share of your abilities. Of course, this is all theoretical. Accidents can happen, which is why we need to take every precaution. Enter our first volunteer!”

The henchmen wrangled Assistant into the other pod, ignoring their very muffled screams. Hero’s eyes went wide.

“MMMM!! MM-MM!” they protested at the top of their lungs.

The sound barely carried out of their packed mouth. Scientist giggled, shaking their head.

“This is happening, Hero, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Supervillain said, “begin Operation Worker Bee 0-0-1.”

Scientist nodded. The pod door was closed, and expanding foam was dispensed into the small space. Assistant screamed, thrashing around as much as they could. Fear shone in their watery eyes.

Scientist’s finger hovered over a large, hexagonal button. The button that could either give Assistant Hero’s powers, or more likely than not, turn them into a frosty corpse. Something snapped inside Hero, and fire kindled in their eyes. Frost rapidly spread over the pod, obscuring Hero’s face from view. A few moments later, and the entire device shattered in all directions. When the dust settled, Hero stood in the center of the mess, glaring daggers at Supervillain.

Scientist tapped Supervillain’s shoulder nervously.

“They- they’re not supposed to do that,” they said quietly.

Something glinted in Supervillain’s eyes.

“Well, you finally learned how to=“

An ice beam cut Supervillain off, sending them into the wall.

Scientist stood frozen for a moment, before snapping out of it.

“Uh, agents… agents!! Take care of Hero… now!!”

Hero tapped the gag with their finger, letting ice spread through the whole thing until it turned cold and brittle. They spat out the remainder of the frozen, rubbery substance. Scientist watched it shatter on the floor.

“Let. Them. Go.” Hero growled.

One of the henchmen came up from behind Hero, taser in hand. Hero grabbed it with an icy fist, flipping it around and jamming it in the poor soul’s gut. The henchman screamed as they crumpled to the floor. The other henchman? Hero only had to give them a murderous look and they were bolting from the room.

Hero stalked over to Scientist, icy energy in their fists. Scientist scrambled back until their back hit a wall. Hero breathed frost in their face.

“I said. Let them go.”

Scientist nodded, their glasses foggy from Hero’s cold proximity. They scurried over to Assistant’s pod and pressed the button that would release them.

Assistant tumbled out, whimpering. Hero caught them and removed their gag.

“You okay?” Hero asked.

“Be-beh-“

“What? What is it?”

“BEHIND YOU!”

Hero whirled around much too late. Supervillain knocked them back with a punch. Hero sailed across the room into another wall.

“Do you know why I’m a beekeeper, Hero?” Supervillain asked, stalking toward them.

Hero sat up in a daze, their head pounding and spinning.

“Because I hold the life of the hive in my hands,” Supervillain said, “you may think you’re in control, but-“

Supervillain yanked Hero up by their neck, squeezing. Hero gasped for air, grasping at Supervillain’s hand.

“-I’ve always been in charge here.”

Darkness encroached on the edges of Hero’s vision. They just had time to see Assistant approach with a needle before Supervillain dropped them unceremoniously to the ground.

Supervillain rounded on Assistant, but there was already a syringe in their shoulder.

“Oh Assistant,” Supervillain drawled, yanking the drug from their skin, “you really think that dosage will stop me?”

Assistant staggered back. Hero wobbled to their feet. Supervillain prepared to strike their cousin, when they stumbled.

“I-I didn’t expect Hero’s dosage to stop you at all,” Assistant said, “but I thought, maybe, the entire vial would?”

“Are you insane!?” Supervillain slurred, dropping to the floor, “you could kill me!”

“Well, uh, the good news is, Scientist can save you?” Assistant offered uncertainly.

Hero nodded, striding up and towering above Supervillain.

“Funny thing about bees, Supervillain,” Hero said darkly, “if enough of them sting you, the venom could prove lethal.”

Supervillain glared up at them just before their eyes fluttered shut.

“Nice save,” Hero said.

They looked down at Supervillain’s form.

“You didn’t really- I mean- are they gonna…?”

“No,” Assistant laughed, “I only gave enough to knock them out for a couple hours. I just wanted them to feel as afraid as I did these past few days.”

Hero blinked, then smirked.

“You cunning little trickster,” they said.

Alarms rang out throughout the room, and probably throughout the rest of Organization’s building. Oh, right, that henchman that got away.

“You ready?” Hero asked.

“For what?” Assistant asked back.

Hero handed Assistant the taser they had taken.

“For a fight,” Hero said.

Part 10

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags:

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @rainy-knights-of-villany @imagination1reality0

[the-cactus-taco]

OK, I liked writing the last one so much I wrote another dumb little mirrorverse fic. This one’s a bit spicier than the other, but nothing that goes against Tumblr terms of service. again, sorry for any typos

Romantic relationship: fresh x greaser x lust

CW: arousal, possession, loss of control, and of course: 

(sorry I’ve been wanting to use that gift forever)

Anyways, here it is



You’re enjoying this a bit much, aren’t you?

The doctor taped his pen against his clipboard. Unsure of what to do. “Hey baby doll~ need somethin?” Called his lab assistant. Greaser sans was tall compared to the doctor, yet he and his other partner still called him— “ah, Lab Rat… yes I am in need of something”

“What can I help ya with?” He said, sitting down backwards on a near by chair. Leaning against it’s headboard. “I don’t have enough data on fresh’s possession ability to form a proper hypothesis for this particular scenario…” he rubbed his chin, before glancing to his assistant and looking him up and down. A devious grin growing on his face “But… I know where I can get some~”

The doctor called fresh into the testing chambers, before telling him and rat of his plans…

“You w-want him to posses… me??” Greater stammered “precisely~” replied doc. “With you as a willing participant, I could collect much more data before separation. And you and fresh could spend some… quality time, together~” greaser’s blue blush flared as fresh put a hand on his shoulder. “Chillax broski! It’ll be rad!”

Fresh stretched his arms above his head. “So when do we do we start?” The doctor began taking notes “whenever you’re both ready~” fresh smiled and looked over to rat, cupping his face in one hand. His other hand slid down his own throat, pulling up a single writhing purple parasite. Fresh held in over the other’s face, as to drop it in his mouth. “Open wide~” he cooed.

Grease was shaking in his boots. His normal witty banter falling completely silent as he looked up at the parasite above him. Fresh’s face went from satisfied to concerned and contemplative. Before he let go of rat’s face and dropped the parasite on the floor. The purple star crawling back in through Fresh’s pant leg “this don’t feel right… “ he said, tapping his foot. “Heya doc!” He called “yes fresh?” The doctor replied

“Would it mess up yo research if I was the one to get in there?” Questioned the colony. “and… What do you mean by that?” Fresh looked to rat and bent down to meet their eyes. Staring deep into their soul. “I want in there… no arms. Me.” The authority in Fresh’s voice sent a shiver of anticipation through greaser. Doc taped his pen to his chin. Before a look of realization bloomed on his face “you… want to posses him with your core instead of one of your arms…?”

“Bingo!” Fresh replied. Complete with finger guns.

“You’ve never shown interest in something like that before…” replied doc. “Heh, yeah…” fresh cupped greasers face with his hand again. “Never had someone interest me like this till now…” at this point, greasers entire face is glowing bright blue. Causing doc to chuckle at the site. He gave a warm smile to his partners, happy to see them so infatuated with each other. “Yes fresh… this will affect my research. But seeing as you also have an interest in this Avenue, I believe it will be valuable nonetheless. So we shall proceed.”

Fresh pumped his fist in the air and moved to the center of the room. He spread his arms wide and took a deep breath, before his body seemed to disintegrate, leaving a pile of parasites where he once stood. The parasites crawled away into the containers lining the walls built just for them. Eventually, all that was left, lying on the floor, was the biggest parasite.

The creature’s eye soon snapped open, zeroed in on greaser. “T-thats still him..?” Rat managed to choke out. “Yes. That is the hive’s core. Think of it as a queen bee. It’s the glue that holds the rest of the colony together.” The doctor replied. Rat looked between fresh and doc before stammering “w-what now?” Doc chuckled under his breath “simply approach whenever you are ready~”

Greaser looked to the floor, slowly creeping towards the parasite. “H-hey doll… it’s me! You can see me.. r-right?” But before he could form another thought, the star leaped at rat’s face, knocking him onto is back.

Greaser grabbed at fresh, rolling around like he was on fire. “Let him in, sweetheart~ I can’t do any testing if you resist~” doc reminded him. Rat remembered the thing on his face was his friend, his partner, and tried to relax. The parasite weaseled its way into his mouth, and down his non-existent throat. Causing the other to choke and gag.

In an instant, greaser felt as if he was being embraced on all sides. Every part of him held close, as fresh wrapped himself around rat’s soul. Grease began to quiver, eye lights going wide under his sunglasses. Pure euphoria coursed through his veins as what felt like a kiss was pressed into his very being. Rat let out a small wine as fresh took over. A puff of rainbow smoke engulfing his body.

Greaser awoke in is own mind. It felt as if he was floating in a void. He could see through is eyes, but he couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. Yet he felt so… safe. It still felt as if he was being hugged form all angles. An embrace so close that two became one. Loosing control… it felt… good. Less like a forceful eviction, and more Like his partner gently pulling him to the side, kissing him, and saying “don’t worry my love. I’ll take it from here.”

Rat relaxed in is mind scape. Metaphysical eyes rolling back in his head as he soked in fresh’s intent

Your mine/can’t escape/part of the swarm/part of me

Doc coughed on the smoke, waving his hand in front of his face. As greaser stood, the smoke cleared. Reviling his new appearance. The possessed rat shot the doctor a pair of finger guns“Hey-o baby! How’s ma favorite doc doin?” The doctor chuckled at Fresh’s advance. “Doing wonderfully sweat heart~ how do you feel?”

“Radder then eva broski!” And the doctor could tell. As sparks of magic, usually reserved for if monsters showed affection (hugging, kissing, purring), were shooting off greaser’s body at an almost alarming rate. As if his test subject’s entire existence as an act of love. And it was.

“Alright you two… it’s time to get to work~” doc said with a mischievous grin. The doctor ran a full physical on the fused pair. Along side some strength and magic tests. In all It took just about two hours to collect all the data doc wanted.

Greaser sat on an examination table as doc jotted down some final notes. “Now then… that is more then enough for today. Boys…” doc glanced to fresh and rat, before pausing. Examining the two. Fresh rubbed grease’s thighs together impatiently. Their ecto drenched in sweat. And the way they looked- no- stared at him. Even through their glasses, it was a look lust knew well. “My my~” he began “you two are enjoying this quiet a bit… aren’t you~”

Greaser screamed out from within his mind. YES. GOD YES. He was enjoying every moment of this connection more than anything he ever had before. The feeling of being engulfed in someone else’s intent. The feeling of fresh gently moving his body for him. It felt like he was in heaven. Fresh was enjoying this too. The feeling of power, of control… but most tantalizing, trust. Greaser truly trusted him with his body. A sensation fresh rarely if ever felt from his hosts. The words spilled from their mouth as they were lost in each other. “Absolutely~”

Doc’s smile grew as he stepped forward, placing a hand on their partners face. His thumb rubbed their cheek. “Well then… I believe another type of testing is in order… wouldn’t you say~” both fresh a greaser salivated at the idea “Of corse!!” They blurted out.

Lust backed away, setting down his clipboard. His voice was silken and sweet “Follow me~” he said. Gesturing towards the door. Fresh and greaser hoped off the table and ran after the doctor. Lust slipping off his lab coat and hanging it up as they left. After exiting the laboratory, they moved into their shared bedroom at the end of the hall.

They had the whole night to themselves. And they were gonna make it count.

…

Later that night, the pair were cuddling in bed. Fresh felt a tad worried about how long he’d stayed in his friend’s body, and began to crawl out through their mouth. Only for grease to slap and hand over fresh’s exit. Keeping him inside. The parasite was confused. Before tasting the intent behind the action

I’m yours/stay with me/part of the swarm/part of you

Fresh paused for a moment. Realizing that, never in his vast lifetime had someone with for him to stay with them. Be part of them. Fresh’s tentacles wrapped back around the other’s delicate soul. Cradling it as if it was his whole world. A small sound escaped rat’s mouth as he began to purr of his own fruition. fresh snuggled tighter as grease began to drift to sleep

The next morning, rat was disappointed to find himself back to normal. Only to fluster at the realization that fresh was back to his normal self as well. But not only that, he was also in bed with them, snuggled against greaser’s back. As lust held him from the front, grease was trapped in the middle of a cuddle pile. And he couldn’t be happier. Smiling, purring, and deciding that waking up could wait a little longer.

[ranharrafantasy]

How Sweet a Wish can Bee

More Transformation Stories at Link in Bio

____

Kris was working from home and his mind had gone numb from the monotonous efforts of his job. He looked out the window and longed to be outside. The fall leaves had turned orange and in every way it was a picture book perfect autumn day.

Bees, off in the distance, flew by, likely working hard before they migrate south from it becoming too cold.

"Now that's the kind of work I wouldn't mind. I wish I could eat honey all day," Kris said, tapping on his desk and shoving papers aside.

He cracked his knuckles. He figured he had wasted enough time and should probably get back to his grueling job. He adjusted in his chair and suddenly felt a sharp pain at the back of his elbow.

"Youch!" he howled and clutched his arm, watching a bee fly off as he turned his head.

The pain subsided after a few minutes and he went back to work, not noticing the subtle changes that had started to sprout.

****

Globs of sweet honey fell from his claws and open muzzle. Kris' fur was caked in a thick layer of the golden, sticky, substance but he didn't care. He used his long and muscular bear tongue to lick another large bite from the honeycomb he had stolen from the bee hive.

His feral vocal chords didn't allow him to talk, but if he could it would have been something about how the bees turned him this way, so it would be disrespectful to not fully appreciate it and do bear things. Bear things being, stealing honey.

With a mouth full and an ever filling belly, he looked back at his house and smiled. Bears don't have to work, at least not at that miserable job he would never have to do again.