#private hive

[jezabatlovesbats]

H.I.V.E. Academy talent show.

I believe it was Megamind who pointed out the difference between a villain and a SUPER one- presentation!

[king-archer]

Hello hive five fans 🥺 (with platonic rizz)

They tried owning a house once before moving to the tower

It did not go well

[the-lighthouse-lit]

The Club of Unauthorized Heroes - Year 2

Fandom: Teen Titans

Pairings: BBxRae, BBxTer, RobxStar, CyxBee

Rating: T

Summary: The ambiguously-named Project Club of Murakami High has established themselves as not-so-secret superheroes for hire. But while the team navigates the pressure of being out in the open and worries that their stint of big missions was just a fluke, a new threat set out to dismantle everything they’ve worked for brews right underneath their noses. [High School AU]

───

Chapter 28: May. It was just a school club p.4

Preview:

Azar looked up from when she was sitting on his couch, an untouched cup of tea before her. “Hello, Gar.”

Gar thought she seemed calm as always, but that she looked different somehow. More material, more here, not so other-worldly. Not so ageless. He thought maybe it was her way of looking worried. He walked into the living room. “Hi. What’s up?”

“I was hoping you would know where Raven was.”

“Raven?” Gar felt awake for the first time in days. It was almost a sweet feeling—to have his brain forced to think about something other than Terra. It was a relief. “What do you mean? When was the last time you saw her?”

“Two days ago. Your mother told me what happened to all of you. But Raven never came back in the morning like you did.”

Guilt gnawed at Gar. He’d assumed all his friends were okay… How could he not have checked? And what were the others doing?

Read:   On AO3 On FF.Net

[the-antiapocalyptic-man]

Omen vs the Silver Age Terror Titans (formerly the Hive Five)

not final but Line-Up (and their Teen Titan* counterpart)

Private Hive (Mal Duncan)

Sister Mayhem (Bumblebee)

Liar Liar (Omen)

Condor (Hawk)

Swan (Dove)

The Quiz (Coagula)

*note to clarify: this is the Silver Age Teen Titans in the headverse AU, but canon!Titans (plus Supergirl) exist as Silver Age Young Justice. Memory of this team was lost to history for some years as a result of Liar Liar's deal with The Antithesis, leading YJ and TT to become conflated as a single team in even their own memory.

[howardduck1490]

Teen Titans Go! Private H.I.V.E.

Private H.I.V.E. is a former member of the H.I.V.E. Academy and the H.I.V.E. Five and an enemy of the Teen Titans. He is later called Sergeant H.I.V.E. in the Teen Titans Go! comics.

[pedroam-bang]

Aliens (1986)

[fendergender]

picked up my private rites preorder so we are on julia armfield LOCKDOWN this weekend

[astrxlfinale]

The call rings within his ears once again.

Lofty ambition frayed into desperation, once chilled, commanding hymns now screaming their curses for the humanity that was so close to joining them, expanding. Damage that threaded itself deep within the Great Dream, Memoria, down to that sensitively sturdy membrane of reality itself found itself desperate in the way it clamors to him. How it clamors to the vessel that could proudly host any and all upon the endless Sea of Quanta.

Caelus could only find the irony in how it's through that golden, calamitous wishmaker that the lethal sea, one that can bring about all fervent wishes was invited to begin with. Just as it did in Belobog, just as it did upon the Xianzhou, this land however, Penacony, found itself infinitely more sensitive to those threads.

Pulling him along on these vigils he takes of his own volition, alone, thrusting himself in the vestiges of memory and emotion that can no longer be called simulated. No. Through their rebellion that intended to use any and all ambition as their boat, to find a will potent enough to guide the boat, to let those lamenting screams be driven to act, a second change found itself painted into their realm through these seething, frigid wounds.

'Why do I find myself diving into these aftermaths?' It was one of those questions that led to restless nights. For it wasn't solely a conscious choice alone that prompted it. Deep within the make up of his being, there was a calling that found itself nigh impossible to deny. Even if he wreaths himself in that same viscerally violent shine, becoming a comet that tears through these remnants with a sense of Finality, it's through Destruction they find their union.

Even now could he feel the screams that howled in anguish, that roared with their laments, and many more eagerly wishing to tear this betrayer from being a Stellaron enriched by tranquility, that found a border of humanity it could contently frolic in. To the remnants, it was nothing more than the worst type of showboating.

That doesn't change the reality as his bat finds itself reached from a secretive fold of reality itself. That obsidian sheen found itself humming with power, channeling Destruction in a way that prompts a cosmic sheen to immediately wash over it's surface. The answer finds itself coming naturally before such a 'problem.' In a night of shared dreams, of a revealed past, Caelus capturing the madness that entrenched Supreme Guardian Cocolia told him all he needed to know.

The Stellaron too desires stories. To such a height, to such a degree, that turning endless worlds into veritable graves to plant themselves as they cull their selection, searching for a will grand enough to actually harbor, to control becomes the contest they'd genuinely wait centuries to complete. Prompting immediate death has never been a part of their drive to begin with.

Someone who thrives in the aspect of holding experience close would understand all too well.

Thus he'd become that very calamity for these remnants. Smashing through automatons, the veiled wills of the remnants cloaked in their Fragmentum armor, that base drive hadn't changed even with him.

Caelus found himself perfectly fine with that.

Dancing through that corruptive power, weaving through spectrum blades and by fist and fangs that could effortlessly annihilate mountains as 'miniscule' effort. In kind, the ferocity of his own attacks would continuously draw that damned light of reality, the denier of possibilities alone upon them again and again. Crushing limbs, shattering armor, destroying the facsimile of faces in this maddened dance that caused their bodies to seem like colliding tsunamis.

For he knew from a few choice cases that to remain as possibilities alone was a brand of suffering that held no equal.

So why not be the guardian force that ensures these ruptures of Fragmentum remain contained until their final hour? That too, remains a precious experience.

[onikasbarbie]

[prettyspicyhoney]

hjgskdgkfjdsjkg you know your fantasy is toeing the line when you get contacted by tumblrs mh bot

[jezabatlovesbats]

If the HIVE Academy had a choir! Let's go!

Jinx is trying to do well in all her classes, including this one. She's hoping she'll get a solo or two, and she wants everyone to get in gear for the concerts. She’s with the sopranos.

Gizmo sings alto parts, but is pretty tone deaf. He doesn't want to be in this class, but he was told he'd get extra credits.

Mammoth is, surprisingly, a pretty decent bass. He's definitely adding some volume to the chorus.

See-More is the star of the tenor section. He's got a killer belt, and he eats up every single song.

Private HIVE is also with the tenors, and he sings with a lot of force. His voice is pretty punchy, if you know what I'm getting at.

Billy cloned himself to sing both tenor and baritone parts. However, he can't really sing that well. He and Gizmo are the weakest links in the chain.

Kyd doesn't talk, so I don't think he's going to sing either. He just lip syncs along with the others, or stands there and moves along slightly.

[trollocs-ooc]

b!eleven: to me the troll 7/11 big gulp cup is normal

literally he has to get everything in big portions and it's probably still too little its ridiculous. No wonder he's so skinny

[msclaritea]

Is This Social Club The Soho House For Kids?

Is This Social Club The Soho House For Kids?

Jordi Lippe-McGraw

Contributor

Sharing inspiring and practical stories from around the world.

Apr 21, 2024,08:35pm EDT

The Bunny Hive play space

Social club or play space?THE BUNNY HIVE

Imagine walking into a space where the elegant atmosphere immediately hits you with music playing, stylish brands lining the shelves, and where the who's who is gathering. This might sound like an introduction to Soho House, the chic social club known globally for its exclusive, elegant ambiance and a gathering spot for the elite. Yet, this description aptly fits The Bunny Hive, a burgeoning network of children's clubs quickly earning the nickname "Soho House for kids."

Unlike traditional play spaces that focus solely on fun and games, The Bunny Hive integrates the sophistication and style reminiscent of Soho House, transforming how we think about environments designed for children and their caregivers. This is not just another daycare; it's a community-centric hub where families gather, forging connections amidst beautifully designed spaces that echo the luxury and comfort of the best adult clubs.

At The Bunny Hive, a membership that starts at $45 a month is not just about access to a play space. It's about joining a community that values inclusivity, mirroring the spirit of Soho House but with a more accessible approach. Here, parents, grandparents, and nannies can all bring children to participate in a diverse range of activities. From art and music to sensory play and culinary classes, there's something for everyone. This inclusive model ensures that no matter where you are, you can enjoy a familiar, comforting environment, much like members of Soho House enjoy familiar comforts across global locations.

What sets The Bunny Hive apart from other play spaces is not just its inclusive membership and stylish design. It's the unique experiences it offers. Imagine styling sessions by the 'Blowout King,' reminiscent of the wellness and self-care services you might find at Soho House, but tailored to the needs of busy parents. These experiences elevate The Bunny Hive from a mere play space to a sanctuary where parents can recharge while their children engage in enriching activities. This unique value proposition is what makes The Bunny Hive an attractive investment opportunity.

From art and music classes to sensory experiences, ballet, baby massage, and culinary exploration, The Bunny Hive offers a wide spectrum of classes encouraging children to explore their interests in a safe and stimulating environment. What sets The Bunny Hive apart is its focus on creating an environment as serene and stylish as any upscale club for adults, prioritizing quality, inclusivity, and community.

The design of each location is meticulously planned to ensure that both adults and children feel at ease, with aesthetics that rival the well-curated environments of Soho House. With plans to expand nationally and hopes for international locations, The Bunny Hive aims to be a consistent and reliable presence, much like Soho House, for traveling families seeking a familiar and engaging environment for their children.

Is it alright to say I'm disgusted, for the 1000th time? Because I truly am. We can't get GUNS out of our faces and the faces of our kids. We can't have Humanities back in our schools, where they belong. Music, Foreign Language Dance you name it. BUT Forbes can enthusiastically champion a private club where kids CAN do those things. Even worse, is comparing it to a place known internationally as a Honey Trap Club, Soho House. Seriously, The Bunny Hive!?

[pblovesjelly]

I want to talk about my little short if so bad… it’s tearing me apart…

Girls…girls…girls…

[hunnieknight]

Little Soul

A leyline abnormality has occured in the House of Hearth!

Gn!Reader, unspecified relationship status, SUBTLE power dynamic, OOC, bad grammar and no beta read, quick story, canon divergent?

~~

Being House of Hearth's best leyline researcher means you work outside a lot. Always be on the field, directly studying the leylines themselves.

Being the best also means that the Head of the House always rely on you whenever there is an abnormality. You and the Lady are quite close, in professional matter. Everything is mostly about documents and mission.

With few personal teacup party.

The very first tea party was a nervous wreck. The Lady herself request for your presence, only you, just you. Oh boy, despite the bad thoughts clouded your mind, you just hope you got a raise or promotion.

Thankfully, it was just her asking for a plan. A quite specific plan of a very specific leyline abnormalities. It was Clervie, one of House of Hearth's children in the past.

That's where you learnt more of the Head of House of Hearth's past. She doesn't tell much other than Clervie need to be gone as she isn't suppose to exist and wandering about. Putting a soul to rest, again.

After hours of talking, she settled with a plan, thanking you by promising a raise on the next salary. Somehow, knowing how she was in the past is a promotion itself for you, imposing into her life story where not a lot of people are lucky enough to know.

Knowing how a leyline can manifest, how a memory of the past can exist as a visible soul, how an innocent soul can stuck in time, how...Arlecchino was just a child.

Leylines, basically Tevyat's biggest hive network memories, everything that has happened in the world is recorded and remembered.

Including the very memory that Arlecchino wants to forget.

You always see the Lady herself is all calm and collected, barely anything makes her break a sweat. She often does things her own way, it is quick and precise.

Now imagine your shock and dread when a pigeon bird flies to you with a small note "S.O.S". You know this bird, in fact, this one particular pigeon is only assigned for you. A messenger pigeon, reserved only for you, only for emergency, only from the Lady Arlecchino.

Door slams open, all due respect but anxiety fills your body, there is no time for greetings and formalities, if the Lady herself sending urgent message there must be some-

Huh?

It took you a moment to realize another abnormality like Clervie happens again but..in..the appearance of..the Lady?!

The task is simple, RETURN PERUERE. Okay, it's not that dreadful but the fact the fact the Lady trusting you to do this task, you feel like she is testing your skill. Testing if you are truly her best researcher.

You nodded, agreed to keep Lil Peruere a secret, her small hand engulf by yours when you guide the little soul into your private research office.

The true challenge is not sending her back, the TRUE challenge is to not grow attachment to the soul. Yes, she is a bit unique but the way her little hands always wanting to help stacking books, papers and catching small spiders making you grow fond of the little one.

So this is how Arlecchino was when she was a child, huh?

Makes you wonder what would Arlecchino's child be like.

This challenge also creating a bridge, more personal bridge rather than professional. Often times you only meet Arlecchino if there is a task, it was professional and formal, over a teacup party.

When Little Peruere stays with you, Arlecchino always shows up before your research office, o'clock, with..basket of sweets?

It was nice, the atmosphere is less formal and more domestic casual. Conversation is not always about the research progress, sometimes it's about Arlecchino's upbringing, what Little Peruere likes to do, and your own trivial stuff. The intimate talk only be witnessed by the papers and whiteboards in the research office.

Weeks passed and with Arlecchino's power, Little Peruere passed on, same with Clervie, the warm sunlight enveloping the lost soul as the little one disappear into small glistening petals. Just like Clervie, Arlecchino accompany Little Peruere, but you also sits next to her. Arlecchino have asked you to stay in the research office as the night is cold, yet here you are...

Sitting next to her, leading the conversation as both Peruere and Arlecchino prefers to listening in. The dawn sky is beautiful, dark twilight-blue night sky slowly painted with yellow-orange lights. Peruere watching with fascination, yours watching the little one with adoration, and you felt a pair of eyes watching you from the side.

~~

Clicking, typing, rustling filled your research office. You need to make a report on the little soul, as formality of your works. Arlecchino was there to proofreading the report herself.

The Harbinger doesn't miss how you sighed a lot, recalling the little pitter-patter of Peruere's feet around your office, the small hands tidying up the papers around, and the small bug container-which always contain any bugs found in your office- in the corner is empty now that Peruere is not here.

Arlecchino thinks, you have gone this far to send the soul back. Perhaps she should give you something in return, it's only fair in transaction,right?

What is it? A day off? A vacation? A raise? A promotion? A kid of your own?

Well, it seems you have grown fond to the little Peruere, perhaps...another real Peruere would be a delight?

And what a delight it is~! The House of Hearth burst into happiness when the news of another member, from the Father herself , was announced when the children are eating dinner.

This raised the House's morale, everybody work and play safely, determined to go home in one piece looking forward when cries of an infant burst into the house. It would be hell to get used to but the House of Hearth is used to not cry for pain, no tears of loss and grief.

This is the only cry they would have, the only wail in the building, the only tears they would be happy to hear. The only tears in the House of Hearth....

Oh hey, The Tsaritsa send a baby care package~♡!

.

♡♡

.

.

.

Another one is in the oven

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Days of the Week

Monday is your grouchy and uptight coworker. He's a stickler for the rules and not someone who confesses his feelings. He'll usually push his spectacles up his nose and frown at you whenever you try and do something new, no matter how simple.

"What did I say about filling out the spreadsheets by yourself? You've confused all the figures."

He'll push both you and your chair out of the way and settle himself at your desk like one messed up spreadsheet means the death of the whole company. If you ever try and thank him, he'll glare at you like you've insulted his whole bloodline.

"Tch. Just ask me next time."

If you pay attention, you might notice the blush that tinges his cheeks whenever you smile at him. You might notice the way he straightens his already perfect tie before coming over to harangue you about company dress code and your slightly-too-short skirts. (Why is he noticing your skirt length to begin with? Perv).

Luckily for him, you're usually too irritated or harassed to pay attention. His secret crush will be staying a secret for as long as he can manage.

Tuesday is your overly sweet neighbour. He introduced himself to you the second you moved in - offering you a tupperware of homecooked food because he knew exactly how overwhelming moving in could be. He's the guy you call when you need a shelf hung up or a stubborn jar opened. He'll raise his brows when you thank him, secretly pleased that you asked for his help.

"That's what neighbours are for, right?"

He doesn't mention that the previous tenants left him a spare key to your apartment. What if you get hurt one day while you're locked inside, with no one able to reach you in time? It's safer for you both if he keeps it a secret.

And if he occasionally let's himself into your apartment while you're at work, it's just to keep an eye on the place. It's what any good neighbour would do. So stop wondering what the white stains on your panties are, okay?

Wednesday is your unassuming classmate. They're the quiet kind, apt to fade into the background without meaning to.

At first, they were envious of you. Pretty, clever, friendly - you aren't the type people can easily ignore. They watch you whenever they can, desperate to somehow copy that elusive charm that makes you so special.

It doesn't work, obviously. When they try smiling like you it looks stiff and unnatural. When they copy your outfits they feel exposed, self conscious. When they try wearing the same perfume as you they break out in hives that last all week.

They can't be you. No one can.

But they aren't going to give up so easily. Maybe your luck doesn't come from clothes or hair or makeup. Maybe it's something deep inside of you, something that can be ripped out and kept for themselves.

They're going to learn what makes you so special, even if it means following you home with duct tape and chloroform.

Thursday is your favourite professor. He's the quietly confident type, the kind of man who doesn't have to shout to keep the lecture hall's attention. He's insightful and empathetic, his brown eyes always warm.

You trust him totally and completely. You don't notice when he starts resting his hand on your lower back whenever you stand next to him. You don't notice that your papers are always graded more harshly than your classmates. You don't realise he wants you, not even when he offers you private office hours despite his packed schedule.

You're a real cock tease, always looking at him with those doe eyes and pretty lips. He's a patient man - he'll have you eventually. It doesn't matter if it takes him two weeks or two years, he'll keep dropping your grades until you beg him for help.

You trust him. You really, really shouldn't.

Friday is the star athlete that everyone admires. Handsome, confident, clever. A man like that would usually invite envy, would get dirty looks thrown at his back and nasty surprises in his locker.

Not him though. Everyone loves Friday.

Well, everyone except for you. There's something about him that frightens you. Underneath his golden boy facade, there's something rotten and selfish.

You don't realise he's noticed your dislike until he corners you after class one day. He wraps one hand around your wrist as everyone files out of the lecture hall, too eager for the weekend to notice the slightly panicked look on your face.

"Listen, I hate to think I've done something to offend you. If I have, just tell me now and we can sort it out," he tells you, blue eyes cold and distant despite his pretty boy smile.

You tug at your wrist but his grip is unbreakable. He isn't hurting you, but his strength keeps you right where he wants you.

"We barely even know each other," you say, your eyes jumping to the door and the suddenly empty corridors. "I don't have any issue with you."

"That's a lie and we both know it. I don't want to push you, but I'm not letting you go until I know what I've done."

You finally meet his eyes. "You have it too easy in life. You get everything you want. I don't hate you. But I don't like you either."

His expression is a careful blank. "I'm not going to apologise for what I have or for what I've been given."

You tug at your wrist again and he finally let's you go.

"I don't expect you to," you mutter as you swing your bag over your shoulder and hurry out the door.

He watches you leave and inside him some selfish, possessive creature lifts its head and growls. You should have known - when a man with everything he could ever want is shown something he can't have, that just makes him want it all the more.

"Gonna make her mine," he says to the empty classroom. A promise or a threat, even he can't be sure.

Saturday is a party girl. The kind of bombshell who wears a tiny metallic bikini, a cowboy hat and absolutely nothing else to a rave.

She knows every kind of cocktail and every kind of fun time pill. She's shamelessly cocky and shamelessly outgoing. When you run into her at a concert, she'll get you all the way to the stage no matter how packed the crowds are. 

You'd think a girl like that would know all about boundaries and consent and you'd be right. The thing is, she ignores it just as easily as she ignores speed limits and DUI citations.

She'll kiss you when you're too drunk to say no. She'll give you pills that she knows you can't handle just to take you home. She'll ignore you when you try and push her away, weak and intoxicated and too woozy to form a full sentence.

And the worst part? She knows you won't report her. Girls can get drunk and touchy without it ever being called a crime.

She'll run her hands up your thighs and nip your neck and tell you she loves you. But she's always long gone by morning.

She's just a girl, your honour. And she'll use that excuse as many times as she needs to.

Sunday is your local barista. He's an artist on the side, the kind of creative soul who can't express himself without the help of charcoal and acrylic.

He's too stoic to ever work the cash register or take orders, but he somehow always ends up there when you're in line.

He usually sneaks an extra sweet treat into your order. And if he has the time, he'll usually leave a little doodle on your receipt.

He hasn't spoken to you much, but he can feel the red thread of fate tugging you closer everyday. You're soulmates, lovers meant to be, fated by heaven and all its angels.

It doesn't matter how long it takes, you'll be his eventually. He can read it in the stars.