#bee’s most popular

[slfcare]

five recipes for an exciting life (in my opinion)

spending enough time creating things with your hands (baking, drawing, scrapbooking, doodling, crocheting, journaling and so on)

keeping track of things like pretty skies, milestones, happy memories, appointments you're looking forward to

listening to music that genuinely makes you feel happy and energetic

making a habit of reaching out to people in a way that's comfortable to you (i send my dad songs he might like, my friend sends me monthly life updates)

being kind to all your five senses → like investing in a scented candle or essential oil dispenser or body mist, having a soft blanket or socks (or a soft animal to pet), listening to birdsong or the rain, looking at the sky more often, and having your favorite foods enough times

[zoe-oneesama]

Can you blame Alya for not holding a grudge when she got such an awesome prize in return?

Episode 42 Part 14

First < Previous > Next Episode

Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4, Season 5

Ep 41, Ep 43, Ep 44, Ep 45, Ep 46, Ep 47

Ko-fi | Patreon

[awakefor48hours]

Please consider reblogging for a larger sample size

Remember: this is about normal/everyday Parisians who live in the Miraculous Ladybug universe. We've seen actual debate on whether or not Rena Rouge has a crush on Cat Noir or Carapace before so people feel strongly about this topic in universe.

[corvidpolyglot]

anxiety!

when the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's wrong and the feeling's

(to the tune of "Tragedy" by the Bee Gees)

[knucklestheenchilada]

Hello!! Hope you've been doing well!

I was just scrolling through my ao3 bookmarks and saw your fic "Time and other necessities." Honestly, I grew out of the Jason Todd phase (that's a lie lmao I just stopped reading stuff), but your work always stayed in the back of my mind. From time to time, I would remember a small scene or line. UGH, I LOVE YOUR WRITTING SO MUCH. I caught up to it today.. I wanted to say I'm so sorry for what happened. The feeling of your work being desecrated in that way.. I totally understand why you wouldn't want to continue it. I just wanted to tell you that your work is beautiful no matter what ( and that I'm reading all your other works too :3)

With much love,

one of your readers <3

YOU'RE READING ALL OF THEM?! SOME ARE SO BAD

In all honesty thank you very much for reaching out to let me know this. It genuinely makes me really happy. I'll get back to time and other necessities someday, hopefully soon... I have half the next chapter already done but every time I go to continue it, I just stare at the same paragraph for hours on end before going to write a different fic for a different fandom. Even as I'm working on the one I am right now, I keep thinking about Marcy and Jason. I'm going to be thinking about this ask all day at work tomorrow xx

I miss them and being active on @blorbofrommylazaruspit quite a bit

[pink-octopede64]

fun fact that only i care about: both alexander from maya the bee and anpanman share the same japanese voice actor, keiko toda and of course i had to draw them together because they’re my favorite comfort characters 

[cosmics-beings]

Hey what are your thoughts on starbee?

Ohh it's a good ship and i like it and share fanart of it and stuff, but it isn't really a ship that I personally ship on my own! like I've written for it, and I share stuff but for personal reasons I am not like a hardcore shipper of it but it's alright! like I used to ship it a lot but not so much anymore. but it's a really cute ship I'm just indifferent.

[hobismilitarywife]

.

[john-smiths-jawline]

Association

Summary: Greg Lestrade is coming home when he is kidnapped and taken to a parking garage where a (very attractive) man wants to have a word with him about Sherlock Holmes. Will a dinner change Greg’s feelings about him?

Association

Dealing with Sherlock Holmes was a pain in the ass to the most patient people. Greg Lestrade was not the most patient person. He had almost yelled at Sherlock, the genius junkie playing at being a detective. He had yelled at Anderson, the new forensic, for being annoying. He didn’t care if Anderson and Donovan hooked up. What he did care about was getting home and having a strong aspirin and some steak he ordered. So, when he noticed a sleek black car tailing him, he sighed and rubbed his forehead, his fingers subtly reaching towards the gun in his pocket. He stopped, and so did the car. Someone got out (most likely a butler) and opened the door. 

“Look, mate, I’ve had a really bad day, whatever you want, can it not wait until—” his phone rang. A blocked number. Damn. Seeing no other option, he answered.

“Detective Inspector.” The voice on the end of the line answered. If he didn’t know better, he would say it sounded like Sherlock. Now he really was pissed.

“Whoever the hell you think you are—”

“Get into the car, Gregory.”

“Or what?”

“Just get in the damned car, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.”

“Fine.” Greg sighed and slid into the posh-looking car that was even more posh on the inside. If that was even possible. ——— Greg got out of the car in an abandoned parking garage. No-one-can-hear-you-scream type. His hand grasped his gun a little tighter. There was no mistaking who called. There was only one person there. Wearing a fancy, spotless pinstripe suit, leaning on an umbrella like he was God-damn Mary Poppins. He half wondered if the man was going to offer him a spoonful of sugar. The thought made him snort.

“Something funny on your mind, Gregory?”

“Yeah. Who the HELL do you think you are?” the man sighed, running a hand through his hair. Greg had to admit, the man was attractive. More so than his ex-wife. The thought made him think about the bi flag he had pinned to the inside of his jacket.

“That’s not funny, nor was it on your mind.” Both true. Who was this man, Sherlock’s brother?

“Correct.”

“What?”

“You were wondering if I was Sherlock’s brother. And you are correct. I am Mycroft Holmes.” Well, at least the strange names were consistent.

“What can Sherlock’s brother possibly want with me?”

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?”

“Why do you care?” Mycroft smiled. At the surface, it looked cold and calculating, but Greg thought he saw a hint of true warmth.

“If you do continue to…call my little brother in, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis.” Now Greg was suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you’re not a rich man, Detective Inspector.” That may have been true, but he certainly was not poor either. But this was certainly not offering anything for free. Although some might argue that having to deal with Sherlock on the regular would-be price enough, but Greg thought the man had something else in mind.

“In exchange for what?” the man smiled his cold-warm smile again.

“Information. Nothing indiscreet, nothing you’d feel uncomfortable with. Just ... tell me what he’s up to.”

“Why?” Mycroft Holmes did not strike Greg as someone who cared a great deal.

“I worry about him. Constantly.” Now that was a surprise.

“That’s nice of you.” It might have come off as suspicious, but Greg was going for genuine. And judging by the slight flicker of surprise–and something else? — in Mycroft’s face, he succeeded.

“But I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern went ...unmentioned. We have what you might call, a difficult relationship.” Greg could believe it. If what Mycroft said about worrying was true, Sherlock being frosty, even to his older brother, was not hard to imagine. But still, no matter how powerful this man is, no matter how attractive he is, he thought with a small blush and another glance at handsome-big-brother, he would never sell Sherlock out. He looked into the man’s eyes. Blue, grey, and green swirled together in a mixture of color that had Greg wetting his lips. They were Sherlock’s eyes. But different, because when Greg looked into Sherlock’s eyes, he never felt he was at risk from drowning in their depths.

“No.” Not that Greg could say no to… other things.

“I haven’t mentioned a figure.” As tempting as it was, Greg knew what the answer had to be.

“Don’t bother.”

“You’re very loyal, very quickly.” This made Greg think of his ex-wife and how young they married, causing him to shift uncomfortably. But loyalty isn’t a bad thing.

“Thanks.”

“Anthea?” Mycroft called, and a young girl opened the car door, somehow still texting. Mycroft moved to get in. he paused then he saw Greg still standing stock-still in the middle of the garage.

“Get in, Gregory.” Now that threw Greg for a loop. Get in? Why? But he shrugged anyway and got in the car with Mycroft and Anthea.

“So, Mycroft, where are we going?” Mycroft squints his eyes slightly and roves them all over Greg’s body. Greg knew it was just Mycroft deducing him, but it still made him blush and straighten his tie. It was officially the straightest part of him.

“You have steak waiting for you at home,” Mycroft interrupted his musings.

“Hmm?”

“But it’s second rate. Cheap. Barely worth eating.” He turned to the driver. “Michael, the best steak in London, please.”

“As you wish, boss.” As if this evening couldn’t get any stranger.

“You know, you really don’t have to—” he was cut off.

“I know.” Was Mycroft’s cryptic response. ——— The restaurant was screaming expensive as Greg and Mycroft walked in. One of the waiters walked up to them.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes. Back again, I see?” she steered them over to a table. “Do you have an order?”

“Two orders of steak, please.” The waiter scurried off to prepare the meal.

“Tell me about your work, Gregory.”

“Can’t you just deduce?” Greg asked with a smile.

“Of course. But tell me anyway.” This time, he offered a soft, and entirely genuine, smile, before Greg started ranting about how much he was going to murder Anderson and damn the consequences. Mycroft’s soft smile never left his face until the food came, and they enjoyed a nice dinner of steak and wine. The swirling blue and green and grey eyes never left his, which normally would have been creepy, but it just filled Greg with a warm happiness that swelled inside him, helped with the wine. By the time they walked to the car, Greg was quite sleepy (a combination of the wine and the late hour) and he barely noticed the arm Mycroft slipped around his waist to support him. He didn’t remember when someone told Mycroft that they made a cute couple. He didn’t remember Mycroft’s lack of denial, or the small smile that graced his features. All he remembers is being helped into the car, and his head falling into the British Government’s lap as the car started to move. He was out a couple seconds after he feels Mycroft’s hands carding through his brown and grey hair. He smiled softly and leaned into the touch. And then he was gone. ——— He awoke in his bed, with little idea how he got there before the memories start to flood back. A small sigh ruffled his hair and he turned around to see the British Government, Mycroft Holmes, sound asleep, arms wrapped around Greg’s chest, ginger-brown hair splayed on the pillow and still in his pinstriped suit. Sensing Greg’s movement, Mycroft hugged Greg to his chest and hummed contentedly. Greg, for some reason turned around and inserted his legs around Mycroft’s, and he couldn’t help but notice how they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there. Even though he probably shouldn’t, he fell asleep again, comforted by Mycroft’s arms wrapped around him, shielding him from harm. ——— He woke up again when Mycroft shifted, removing his arms and the soft, safe warmth that came with him. He grabbed Mycroft’s hand and pulled him back to bed as he opened his eyes. He saw him blinking (probably much needed) sleep from his eyes and running a hand through his wavy red-brown locks. Greg gave a sleepy smile as he remembers Mycroft’s hands in his own hair.

“I apologize, Gregory. I suppose I must have fallen asleep after putting you to bed.”

“It’s fine, Mycroft,” Greg said, and meant it. In fact, it was more than fine.

“Should I be going, or…” he seemed to trail off in a rare moment of uncertainty.

“You can stay.” He assured Mycroft.

“Good.” Greg looked at the clock. Shoot. He was going to be late for work. Mycroft seemed to read his mind.

“Do not worry about work, Gregory. I have called the police station and informed them that you will not be coming in to work today. It takes you approximately 47 minutes and 16 seconds to get ready, leave, and arrive at work. When that time passed, you were still asleep and I did not wish to disturb you, because you had not slept for 39 hours. I am told a that is a large amount of time.” Well, that was… nice of him.

“Don’t you have a war to stop or something?” he asked. Mycroft seemed at war with himself for a few seconds before sitting back down on the bed. He smiled, but it was different then the soft, sweet one in the restaurant, or the cold, icy one in the parking garage. This was coy. Flirty. Inviting, if you will.

“They can wait.”

“So, what do you plan to do with your day off?” Greg asked. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Mycroft to lean in.

“This.” And when they kissed, hair still rumpled from sleep, Mycroft in a wrinkled pinstripe suit and Greg in the clothes he wore the day before, he swore it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Gregory?” Mycroft asked when they finally break apart.

“Yes, Mycroft?”

“Do you plan to continue your association with me?” This made Greg laugh, remembering their conversation not 24 hours earlier.

“Yes, Mycroft.”

here’s the ao3:

[luv-again]

riddle me this: the fic I thought was the most garbage has the most kudos ???

[babybluebanshee]

So I finally got my water heater replaced after more than half a year of it leaking and nearly destroying my floor, but that's not the story. The story is of the handyman that installed it.

Dude's name is Chris, and he's your typically midwestern schlub - friendly, apologizes too much, really likes the Cardinals, maybe a little younger than my parents. Hella nice tho, gets the heater installed quickly, and even offers to fix the floorboards it warped (after nearly tripping over the hump it made in the floor twice). Overall, a stress-free experience.

Then, as he's gathering up his tools - "So, I noticed your, uh, banner. Over your bed."*

*(The closet where my water heater is is located in my bedroom because I live in a mobile home, dude wasn't just wandering creepily into my bedroom)

He's referring to a giant pride flag that's hanging over my bed, with the words "Sounds gay, I'm in"

My anxiety spikes instantaneously, thinking oh christ I'm about to get hatecrimed or at least microaggressioned.

But then he says "Yeah, my daughter is gay, and I was wondering, like...where do you guys, ya know, meet up?"

What.

"Because she met her most recent girlfriend when she was in jail, and I keep asking why she doesn't just find a nice lesbian librarian or something and she said 'dad I know they're out there, I just don't know where'. So...like...where do you?"

So I ended up confessing to this nice man who installed my water heater that I don't know of any real gay culture in our mostly Baptist Missouri town of about 18,000 that routinely freaks out over pride displays in the library (I'm sure it exists but I'm lazy and haven't gone looking for it). My girlfriend lives in an area with a rather bustling gay community (we just did a face painting booth for their pride festival a few weeks ago), so maybe have her go out there with some friends, and also a lot of queers I know play dnd so maybe find a nice group of them and network. I then apologized that I wasn't more helpful in getting his daughter settled with a nice, wholesome dyke.

On the plus side, he was not deterred at all, and seemed to be very interested in the fact dnd was so popular amongst the el gee bee tees. I told him the names of some dms I know and told him to go to town. I do not know if the names will be given to his daughter or hoarded for himself so he can join a group and play like he did when he was a teenager and not be called satanic for it.

He's coming to fix my floor next week.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

woke up and someone spilled vanilla extract all over my dash, so as punishment you strange little beasties are getting all the VANILLA FACTS i know:

vanilla is the 2nd most expensive spice in the world (2nd to saffron)

which is why more than 99% of what we call "vanilla extract" is actually vanillin (vanilla's dominant flavor compound) and is not extracted from real vanilla.

luckily, even professionals struggle to tell the difference when it comes to things like baked goods. but there is a distinct difference in non-heat treated products like vanilla ice cream. real vanilla has a more complex, individualized flavor profile.

why is vanilla so expensive? because it is a ridiculously delicate & demanding crop. complete primadonna.

vanilla beans come from vanilla orchids. these crazy flowers bloom for A SINGLE DAY and have to be HAND-POLLINATED in a process that is exhausting, delicate, and requires specialist knowledge passed down over generations.

then, if you're lucky, you get vanilla beans.

which then require months of further specialized treatment.

the entire process takes about a year and can go wrong at any stage

vanilla has been cultivated for over 800 years (possibly much longer). the first known cultivators are the Totonac, an indigenous people of Mexico.

the Aztecs used it as a sweetener to balance out the bitter taste of cocoa. it was popular in a drink called xocolatl--the precursor to modern hot chocolate!

it is only pollinated by a very specific orchid bee!!!

which is why no fruit could be grown outside of Mexico until the 1800s

Edmond Albius, born into slavery, invented the pollination method we still use today--launching a global industry when he was just 12 years old.

today, the majority of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar

if you want real vanilla, read the labels carefully--it's harder to find than you think!

in conclusion, those tiny black specks you see in fancy vanilla ice cream? those are vanilla bean seeds! itty bitty orchid seeds!!! they are delicious and also a PRISSY BITCH!

(src)

[darling-to-death]

Why are there like fifteen million articles about the upcoming Marvel movie, but I can't find LITERALLY one article about whether or not DHMIS is ever going to get more episodes?

[suguwu]

it's been like a month and i've just now remembered i was supposed to post the childe fic to my sideblog lmao

[oexen]

now thinking abt dracula killing the support group while boy dinner plays

[hemmingsleclerc]

My Husband ┃CS55

summary: Y/N attends her husband's home race but didn't expect to find the "popular" girl of her high school back in the day.

The sun was seen over the Barcelona-Catalunya Circuit while the Spanish Grand Prix was taking place. Y/N, dressed in an elegant yet casual dress that perfectly combined glamor and comfort, strolled through the paddock with an air of confidence. Her husband, Carlos, was focused on preparations for the next race, leaving her free to immerse herself in the exciting atmosphere.

As she toured the different garages and hospitality areas, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of nostalgia. The roar of the engines brought back memories of her teenager's years when she would never have imagined being there in the paddock. Yet here she was, the wife of one of the sport's most talented drivers.

The familiar murmur of voices interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see a group of people approaching her. Among them was a face from her past: a girl named Carla, who was once the queen bee of her high school. Carla's eyes widened in false surprise when she saw Y/N there.

"Well, well, if it's not little Y/N," Carla sneered, her tone full of mockery. "What brings you to the Spanish Grand Prix? Trying to catch a glimpse of the rich and famous?"

Y/N smiled, refusing to let Carla's comments get to her. "Oh, you know, I've always been an F1 fan. I thought I'd come and support my husband."

''Husband?, so after all you did get a boyfriend?, what a wonderful surprise!''

''Yes, yes I did Carla'' Y/N responded, avoiding the urge to roll her eyes.

Carla smiled and looked at her boyfriend, who was next to her. "Well, we're here because my boyfriend is a big fan. You probably know him, he was with us at school! In fact, today he met all the drivers. It's a dream come true for him."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, recognizing the familiar pattern of Carla trying to outdo her in any situation. "That's fantastic for him. I'm sure meeting the drivers was an unforgettable experience."

''So, is this your first race?''

''In fact no, I have attended several grand prix, although it's probably your first time, so enjoy it Carla!'' And just as she finished saying those words she turned around and walked away from that irritating situation.

The race came to life and Y/N continued to enjoy the event, doing her best to ignore the presence of her ''wonderful'' former high school classmates.

As the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race, Y/N once again found herself in the path of Carla and her boyfriend.

"Well, well, you again” Carla said with a forced smile. "Did you have fun watching the race, sweetie?"

Y/N sighed inwardly but maintained her composure. "Yes, it was thrilling. Excuse me, I need to find Carlos."

As she tried to walk away, Carla's boyfriend, Y/N's old crush from high school, stepped forward, trying to strike up a conversation with her. Y/N felt a wave of discomfort but remained polite. All she wanted to do was go to her husband and congratulate him on his incredible podium finish in the race.

Suddenly, the crowd around them buzzed with excitement as Carlos Sainz approached, his red racing suit adorned with sponsor logos. Carla and her boyfriend exchanged surprised glances.

"Carlos Sainz!" Carla exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Y/N couldn't help but smile triumphantly. "Oh, I didn't mention it before? He's Carlos, my husband, sweetie."

Carlos, oblivious to the tension, politely greeted Carla and her boyfriend. When they noticed, Carla's forced smile faltered and Y/N took the opportunity to gracefully exit the conversation. She walked away from her, leaving behind a speechless Carla and a bewildered old lover.

''Thank God you showed up, I couldn't stand them for another minute''

''You okey mi amor?''

''I'll be better after the celebration for your great podium, cariño''

With their heads held high, Y/N and Carlos walked out holding hands, along with the shiny trophy, ready to have a great night.