#hive minds give good hugs

[dragon-appreciator-fray]

I just finished Hive Minds Give Good Hugs.

The last time I stayed up most reading a beloved story, I was gushing to a future beloved partner of mine about how much her writing means to me.

Tonight, I got to finish reading a story recommended to me by her.

I got to parrot some of its most heartfelt words that brought me to tears back at her. Another partner who overheard the scene made me feel incredibly seen and treasured. To share in the enjoyment of a story with the plural systems I love means the world to me.

There were times I really struggled with Evelyn's pacifism.

But I am ultimately really pleased with how much meaning I found in how much time and space is given two characters struggling to love and understand and support each ogher as much as they can. All while hurting each other as little as they can. Even when they demand answers to questions they know have painful answers.

There is a moment where a question with a binary answer is expected. It is a moment where admitting there is no way this question can be answered hurts so much. But probably cemented this story as an easy favorite of the many I've read.

I'm going to treasure this book and the people who recommended it to me dearly.

Hive Minds is incredibly heartfelt and willing to really deeply engage with its own subject matter that I wish could have more of from writers who engage with the kinds of stories that interest me.

Feeling a sudden need to catch up with Necroepilogos and Lamentations of the Dead Dreamer. >.<

[thundamoo]

How well do you think Evelyn from the end of Hive Minds Give Good Hugs would do if isekai’d into the world of Worm, at the start of that novel, with 5 bodies? With and without Tara? Assume they have read Worm.

Oh shit okay. You have no idea how much I've thought about this, actually. With prior foreknowledge of Worm, they're likely to do pretty darn decently but ultimately have little they can accomplish against Scion. The Worm universe is fundamentally very dangerous to them because of how powerful some of the Masters are; if caught by the wrong piece of mental influence they could potentially be subjected to knock-on effects that compromise all of their bodies (particularly something subtle that would only need access to a single brain to potentially leak into the network). At the end of the day, Tara and Evelyn can be simplified as Nilbog But Way Better, and while that's pretty terrifying to humans it's not necessarily all that much help against stuff like Endbringers. Tara is liable to try and take over the PRT and more or less every other equivalent organization, possibly running into and joining Cauldron in the process. Evelyn is likely to have a panic attack or twelve. Personally, if I were to write a crossover fic (and I kinda want to) I'd write it purely in the Worm universe and just make Evelyn a girl growing up on Earth Bet who gets her hive mind power via normal shard stuff. I think it would be really fun to have her be utterly terrified of letting anyone know what her power actually does (since she's an exponential threat) and accidentally running afoul of Taylor and the gang because she makes bug bodies and that fucks with Taylor in all kinds of ways.

...Buuut this is probably one of the many, many fanfics I won't have time for. I dipped my toes in the wormfic pool and frankly? I think I'll be happier writing for a less vitriolic fandom.

[random-bookquotes]

Well… it’s probably not all luck, considering that people run around forests back home all the time and rarely even see a bear or mountain lion, let alone get attacked by one. There’s just a lot more forest than there is hungry bear.

Natalie Maher, Hive Minds Give Good Hugs

[3amfanfiction]

I fully headcannon that Simon Riley is the type to take anything you give him, regardless of the impact to his health.

“Simon, you’re home!”

He had just walked in the door as you take a bite of a cooling cookie. you grab another one and hurry over to give him a hug and kiss, then you hand one of the cookies over to him. “You’ve gotta try these. They’re a cherry cream-cake cookie that my coworker gave me the recipe for. Tell me what you think!”

You wait expectantly for him to try it, bouncing excitedly when he tells you it’s good.

you grin as you stuff the rest of your cookie into your mouth and hurry back to finish your last batch. Simon follows and sits at the kitchen table to visit with you while you finish baking and begin cleaning the kitchen.

Before too long you notice his voice start to go a little hoarse when he answers your questions. as he clears his throat for the third time you ask, “You okay? Do you need something to drink?”

“Nah, I’ll b’ fine” he rasps, standing and coming to give you a kiss on the forehead. “i’ll be back in a bit, lovie.”

Is out the door before you can get your thoughts together enough to question him.

That evening you’re laying in bed when the door opens and in walks Simon.

When he crawls into bed you turn to him and let out a “Simon!’ when you see him covered in hives “what happened to you?”

He tells you he went to A&E since he’s allergic to cherries. His throat was swelling up while he was listening to you tell him about your day and he broke out in hives shortly after he left.

When you grill him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind when he accepted the cookie without saying anything, he just shrugs and pulls you into his chest with an eye roll and a, “it came from you, sweetheart. What was I gonna do? Not eat it?”

Next || Story Repository

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | Six

— Truth Unveiled

series masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The morning after your heartfelt conversation with Ava dawned, bringing with it a new wave of anxiety. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts of how to tell Carlos about the pregnancy. Ava's reassuring words played on a loop in your head, offering some comfort amidst the chaos.

As you entered the paddock on race day, the buzz of activity and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. The sun was shining brightly, casting long shadows over the bustling scene. You walked briskly, your heart pounding with each step, knowing that Carlos would be occupied with media duties, the actual race, and the post-race debriefing with the team. Usually, you weren’t part of the post-race debrief, but today was different. More team members had been asked to join, emphasizing that every sort of role counted, media included.

You immersed yourself in your tasks, trying to keep a low profile. The garage was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics making last-minute adjustments to the car. You focused on your work, the familiar routine helping to calm your nerves. However, the thought of facing Carlos again later loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You exchanged glances with Ava several times throughout the day. Even though neither of you had the chance to stop and chat, her eyes constantly sought yours, silently checking in on you. Each time you caught her gaze, she offered a small, reassuring smile or a slight nod, her way of silently asking if you were holding up okay. It was a subtle but comforting gesture, a reminder that she was there for you, ready to lend her support whenever you needed it. These moments of connection, though brief, helped ground you amid the chaos of the day, giving you a small sense of stability and reassurance.

As the clock ticked closer towards the start of the race, the tension in the paddock heightened. Murmurs were heard in passing as each team solely focused on their two race cars, ensuring that every single part was in place and running smoothly.

You took your usual spot in the garage, watching the race unfold with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The roar of the engines filled the air, mingling with the cheers of the crowd. The sun beat down on the track, casting shimmering heat waves that made everything appear slightly surreal. You kept a close eye on the monitors, tracking every lap, every turn, every pit stop with bated breath. Wearing a pair of headphones, you were able to switch between both driver’s radio chatter, listening in to everything that was being said.

“Box, box, box!” the race engineer's voice crackled through your headphones, signaling one of the drivers to pit.

Working in motorsports, every day was like a new adventure, but nothing could ever top the feeling of race day. You truly felt like a proper spectator of the sport with the added bonus of being able to work behind the scenes with the team, making the experience even more enjoyable.

Carlos drove brilliantly, his skill and determination evident in every maneuver. He fought his way through the pack after an unfortunate position set in qualifying the day before, his car dancing around the corners with precision. When he crossed the finish line in third place, the cheers from the Ferrari garage were deafening. Carlos had secured a podium finish, a testament to his talent and the team’s hard work.

Charles, too, had an impressive race. He finished fourth, just shy of the podium, but his performance was strong and consistent. It was a good day for Ferrari, overall. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric with celebration and relief. Team members exchanged high-fives and hugs, their faces alight with joy.

After the podium celebration and a team photo, you were heading toward the meeting room for the post-race debrief when Carlos approached you, flanked by a few other team members.

“Hey, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner tonight to celebrate. You in?”

You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “Oh, I already have plans with Ava tonight. Rain check?”

Carlos frowned but nodded. “Sure, maybe next time.”

Everyone gathered in the meeting room, a large space filled with monitors and charts displaying the race data. The room was filled with the hum of quiet conversations, the excitement from the day’s success still palpable. As you settled into the debrief, you noticed Carlos tapping away on his phone before holding it under the table. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down to see his message.

‘You looked amazing today. My number really suited you, why’d you change?’

You frowned in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Another message came through almost immediately.

‘I saw you wearing a shirt with my number on it earlier, did you not notice?’

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You hadn’t even realized you had been wearing his number. The shirt was one Carlos had left in your hotel room after staying the night, and since he never asked for it back, you packed it and took it home. You ended up wearing it at home often because it was comfortable, but it was the first time you wore it in public, and that too without realizing it. Worst of all, Carlos had noticed.

‘Didn’t want to distract you’ you texted back, deciding against mentioning that you only changed because you spilled coffee on it, otherwise you would’ve worn it the entire day without realizing.

Carlos’ response was almost immediate. ‘Too late for that. You’re distracting me right now.’

You glanced up to see him smirking at you from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

Throughout the debrief, Carlos continued to text you, his messages a mix of playful banter and subtle compliments.

‘Focus on the debrief, Carlos.’ You texted, hoping to divert his attention towards the meeting.

That didn’t work because it wasn’t long before you received another text from him. ‘How can I, you got me picturing you in my shirt, and nothing but my shirt.’

You felt the blush deepen, grateful that the dim lighting in the room due to the projector hid your reddening cheeks. You tried to focus on the engineer’s analysis of the race, but Carlos’ messages kept pulling your attention.

‘Seriously, though. You make it hard to concentrate. I can’t stop thinking about you’

You shook your head slightly, finding it unbelievable that he was mentioning such topics during a meeting. ‘Stop it, Carlos. We’re supposed to be working’

He glanced up at you for a moment, finding it amusing that you couldn’t contain your smile despite the messages you sent opposing his words.

‘You know, I miss our late-night talks…and other things’

Your eyes wandered down to the phone in your palm, widening when you read his text. You typed out a message quickly, hoping to end the conversation without getting caught by your superiors. ‘Carlos, this isn’t the time or place.’

‘When then?’

You took a deep breath, deciding to leave that question unanswered, not knowing how to respond.

As the debrief continued, you placed your phone face down on the table, trying to focus on the discussion. Carlos’ gaze never left you, watching like a hawk as you picked up your pen and jotted down notes. The intensity of his stare made it difficult to concentrate, each glance in his direction only heightening your anxiety.

The room buzzed with the low murmur of voices as engineers and team members discussed the race’s finer points. Monitors displayed graphs and data from the day’s performance, adding a layer of visual complexity to the meeting. You found yourself scribbling notes almost mechanically, your mind half on the task and half on Carlos.

Every now and then, your phone would buzz with another message from him, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Each vibration felt like a small electric shock, jolting your concentration. You knew he was trying to get your attention, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the debrief.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you picked up your phone and saw his latest message: ‘What are you doing tonight?’

You hesitated for a moment before typing back, ‘You already asked me that. I told you I’ll be with Ava.’

Almost immediately, his response came. ‘I mean after that’

Your heart skipped a beat, understanding the implication. You felt a rush of emotions, conflicted between your desire for him and the secret you were holding.

‘Come on,’ his next message read as he watched your facial expressions while you contemplated your choices. ‘It’s been too long since we’ve celebrated.’

You understood what he meant by celebrations, remembering how the night ended the last time he won a race. A part of you wondered if baby Sainz growing in your womb was the result of that night, or the ones that followed.

The thought of being with him intimately while actively hiding that secret from him almost made you sick to your stomach. You knew you couldn't do that to him, despite how much you clenched your thighs together at the thought of another night spent tangled in the sheets.

You glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching, then quickly typed back, ‘Carlos, it’s not that simple right now’

His reply was swift, ‘It can be. Just say yes.’

You thought back to the night he won, a hint of a smile growing on your face as you thought of another remark and quickly texted him. ‘Besides, you didn’t win today.’

Carlos looked up at you, catching your smile, and grinned. His fingers moved rapidly across his phone screen and you were fortunate that no one around him noticed his lack of attention on the debrief.

‘Podium is still a win. Third place means we can still celebrate, right?’

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. His persistence was both endearing and infuriating. ‘You’re relentless’ you typed back, feeling the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

‘Only because you’re worth it’ came his immediate response.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up easily and you didn’t want him to either. Your mind raced, trying to balance your feelings with the reality of the situation. But at that moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him, how much you missed the way he made you feel.

‘Okay’ you typed back finally. ‘But we need to talk first, Carlos. Seriously.’

He didn’t respond to the text, instead he sought out your gaze, waiting for you to look at him before nodding. Noticing the depth in his eyes, the honesty, you knew the truth had to be revealed tonight.

You placed your phone face down again, trying to focus on the remaining part of the debrief, but your thoughts were now consumed with the upcoming conversation with Carlos. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew tonight could change everything.

The debrief ended, and you began to gather your things. You noticed Carlos heading your way, a small grin on his face. Just before he was about to reach you, Charles interrupted him, stopping him for a hushed conversation. Since you weren’t far away, you were able to overhear parts of their conversation.

“Is she coming? If she is, Ava will too,” Charles inquired, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversations.

Carlos shook his head at first, then looked at Charles with a pointed glare. “Why do you want Ava there?”

Charles seemed puzzled, pausing before he shrugged. “Well, they’re both part of the team, so…?”

Carlos shook his head again. “She said she already has plans with Ava, so I guess neither of them are coming.”

“Really? I heard she didn’t have any plans tonight.”

Charles’ behaviour made Carlos roll his eyes before elbowing him in annoyance. “Why did you put me up to it then if you already knew?”

He shrugged again, his expression neutral. “Just wanted to make sure, plus she likes you better than me for some reason.”

Carlos glanced back at you, his confusion deepening. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the room, knowing that the conversation you had been dreading was going to be unavoidable tonight.

You found a quieter corner in an office within the paddock to work on some last-minute media projects. The celebrations were in full swing elsewhere, but you stayed behind. The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft hum of your laptop since most of the team and other personnel were off enjoying the dinner celebration or heading back to their hotels.

You immersed yourself in your work, hoping to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. The tasks were routine—updating social media posts and editing photos from the race—but they kept your mind occupied. You sipped on a Red Bull, the caffeine helping to keep you focused.

Minutes turned into hours and you were completely immersed by the contents on the screen. Papers were strewn across your desk, and your fingers danced across the keyboard.

The can of Red Bull sat beside you, half-drunk. You had initially popped the tab, but after drinking half of it, you realized you needed to be cautious with your caffeine intake given your situation. It had been sitting on your desk for a while now, and you were hesitant to take another sip.

The door opened but you hadn’t noticed until Carlos gasped theatrically, causing you to look up in surprise. “You traitor!” he exclaimed, pointing at the can. “Siding with the enemy?”

You laughed, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement. “Well, Ferrari doesn’t make energy drinks, Carlos. What else am I supposed to do to stay awake?”

He chuckled, the tension between you two momentarily easing. He walked closer, pulling up a chair beside you. “Good point. But seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had plans with Ava.”

You looked down, the weight of your lie pressing on you. “I needed to get some work done,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of the Red Bull can. “There’s always something that needs to be finished.”

Carlos’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “I saw Ava at the dinner. She said you were here working when she left. You seemed pretty adamant about those plans earlier.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure build up. “I didn’t have plans. I just… needed some time to myself, Carlos. To think and work through some things.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

You shrugged, your eyes avoiding him.

Carlos was silent for a moment, his gaze intense. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to hide.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat, realizing that the conversation you’ve been dreading was going to happen in the paddock of all places. “I know. It’s just… complicated.”

He reached out, placing a hand on yours. “I’m here now. Let’s talk. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s just… everything feels overwhelming right now. The race, work, us.”

Carlos’s eyes softened. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Every time I try to talk to you, you find an excuse to be somewhere else.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he insisted, cutting you off. “And you’ve never been the type to avoid confrontation. Did I do something that makes you run away every time you see me?”

Carlos noticed your attempts to avoid him, which he openly acknowledged, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Well, you did something..." you trailed off, since he was technically half of the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.

“Enlighten me,” he said, his tone challenging but not unkind.

“What would change if I tell you?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“For one, I would have my friend back,” he replied softly.

“Are we friends or are we coworkers who fuck?” You shot back, your tone coming out a little harsher than you expected.

“We were friends first, were we not?” he questioned, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay, Carlos. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes locked onto yours.

“It could change your life,” you warned, feeling a mixture of fear and resolve.

“It’s that serious?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking away for a moment to blink away the tears pricking the corners of your eyes

“It only makes me want to know more,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m pregnant, Carlos, and it’s yours.”

——

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[calliecstuff]

let us show you

We asked 100 trans women what they think a hive mind is like and they all replied “let us show you” at the same time in perfect unison

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART TWO

Some fluff and a little spice. Don't know if ill do the smut in part three or four, we will see how things develop. Either way it gets hot so! You were warned!

You woke up the next morning with a huge headache. Not a great start to a day where you were scheduled to do large batches of magic.

You swore as you got up, swore as you made your coffee, swore as you did some last minute rereading of the soil testing spell you already knew by heart.

You tried to nap, but couldn't get your sore muscles to relax, so Lyith found you in quite a disgruntled mood. He frowned.

“We can do this tomorrow if you are not feeling well. You smell like you are about to throw a fit.”

You shook your head and took a long, cleansing breath.

“I'm really fine. Im excited about meeting your friend though. Its not everyday you meet a Bee-man.” You cracked a small smile.

Lyith gave you one last appraising look before sighing and beckoning you out of the house. Once you were on the porch step he held out his arms. You stared at him, eyes raised.

“Uh, do you want another hug? For support or something?”

His nose flared and he seemed to be failing to keep a straight face.

“It'll be faster to fly you to the hive. Its a good five mile walk for you if we don't. And with so much to do, I doubt my friend is going to be patient with us.”

You blinked.

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Your heart tightened. You started to feel a little sick.

“If you are scared of heights, I will stay close to the ground. It is faster that way anyway.”

He reached forward and patted your head affectionately. “I don't have to dodge branches that way, so it is a… “win win”? That's how the saying goes, right?”

His hand stayed on your head and you had to admit it made you feel a little braver. His smile was so gentle, it sent a wave of calm through you. 

“Yeah I can do that.” You swallow and force the ends of your lips upwards. 

Lyith holds his arms out again, and you walk into them, letting him hoist you up, and take off. The sound of his wings were particularly loud now and you noticed it had a habit of spreading his lemony scent around. 

You quickly diverted your attention to the feeling of the wind stretching back your skin. Which only made you realize that Lyith had nuzzled his neck close to your own face. You had to admit that the warmth felt nice against the cold spring air. It may have been Lyiths own way of making sure you didn't freeze too much. Your mind lingered on his touch, which was acting like a scarf, in the face of rollercoaster-like winds. Your stomach turned.

It was only 6 minutes until Lyith dropped you off in a small glade. The clearings floor was covered in grasses and large orange flowers. The flowers themselves were funnel shaped with purple star like splotches in the middle. The air was fragrant. 

Lyith grabbed your arm gently. Out from the other side of the clearing came what could only be another bee-man. Lyiths face lit up and he floated upwards, making a few excitable jerking motions. The other Bee-men copied his motions and let out a lovely hum sound, which Lyith harmonized. The two both looked at you and Lyith started the introductions.

“This is the witch I was talking about. And this-” he gestured to the bee-man by giving them a clingy hug. “-is Rena. She is a scholar, and also looks after a quarter of these… gardens, is the term you use. She has given you permission to use magic in her garden.”

“Only if you show me you can help, that is. Witches are so rare these days. I have to measure your…” she seemed to be chewing the word, “Qual-it-ications?”

“Qualifications.” Corrected Lyith, adjust some Rena's long strawberry blond hair. She had the same big black eyes as Lyith, but her form was shorter. Sturdier. But just as fluffy. Unlike Lyith, she had a second pair of hands, which she had crossed over her chest. Her gaze was curious, but her nose was slightly wrinkled in concern.

“Lyith speaks human the best of us. You are lucky to have met such a good orator. Now. What is it that you exactly plan to do?” her voice was deep and textured, as she jutted out her jaw.

You paused for a moment and held up a hand. You rummaged through your bag and pulled out some twine and popsicle sticks.

Lyith bit his lip like he was trying not to smile. Rena laughed openly. “You wish to do an art project?”

“No. If we are going to do this right, we need to be careful. I want to do experiments. First, we section three groups of flowers far away from each other so as not to contaminate eachotger. We use the twine and sticks to section those area off. Then, we do one group for the quick-grow powder, one group for the fertility spell, and one group of both. We will then keep track of them, and you guys will see which one keeps the most magic. You guys can tell magic quality by taste right?”

Rena nodded back at you, her expression a bit surprised. You continue.

“Ideally, we would have four different glens of these same flowers to compare. I'm not sure if the magic will be affected by rainwater. But I feel like it's a solid idea. Whichever works better for nectar quality, is what I'll use in case of emergency. If the fertility spell works properly, I can then help you guys grow your fields. But we wanna make sure that my magic is compatible with the flowers and your guyses nectar. I don't wanna accidentally poison you guys or something.” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

Lyith smiled over at Rena, who was nodding as she seemed to be thinking.

“Tell you what, ill give you two glens. One for your powder, one for the fertility spell. At one end of the both the glens you can do both. Sound good?”

You smiled. “Fantastic.”

From their, the three of you got to work sectioning off the ends of the glade. Rena herself flew off and sectioned the other glade herself, while you tested the soil. After the third time of getting the same reading, you calculated your powder amount. It was very important to get the amounts right. If you got it wrong, they would get one huge flower, and a comatose witch all at once. 

You did your spell, and it seemed to work, a more potent smell sweeping through the clearing. You continued your work, taking your time to channel your power as not to stress yourself out and mess with results. You were flown to the other glen, and did your thing. 

When you were finished, one clearings wildflowers had grown their reach twice as far, and the other flowers had grown to be the size of a human head. But it was the combination spell that really seemed to excite Rena. The flower's hue had changed from mostly orange, to mostly purple, and the scent had shifted to something headier.

“These more closely resemble the flowers of old! And they smell perfectly nutritious!”

Lyith chirped in. “The real test is to see how they will age. We don't know how long the magic will last. If the soil will breed more.”

You smile. “Thats what the experiments for. We wait, and each week you tell me if the magic quality has gone down.” 

Admiring the flowers, Rena grabbed one and flew towards you. She put the flower in your hands, then motioned to you as if it was a teacup. “Drink.”

Experimentally you tipped the flower to your mouth. A hint of nectar trickled in. It was sweet, but unlike your normal honeysuckle, their seemed to be a kick to it. Your gaze went back to Rena. She gave you a knowing smile. “Thats what your magic tastes like. It will make such good honey. Thank you.”

With that she leapt forward and gave you a huge hug. She smelled citrusy too, but in a different way, almost tropical. Her hair tickled your neck and ears, as she purred in contentment. She stayed there for a minute longer, seemingly giving you a warm nuzzle before pulling away. It wasn't until she did so that you were able to register how tired and sore your body was. You were shivering. The cold was getting to you now.

Lyith noticed immediately and drew himself close to you. “Is it too cold? I knew we should have waited a day. You've overdone it.” He then threw his arms around you, and started rubbing your arms, your back. He was using the friction and closeness to bring you warmth. It was innocent, but your cheeks warmed just a little too quickly. 

Rena watched and grabbed onto your free arm. “You'll get manasick at this rate. I've got a shelter nearby. Its no hive, but the heat will do you some good.” It seemed that Rena had decided she liked you, because she kissed your cheek twice before motioning the three of you onward.

Lyiath took you up in his arms again, the pressure of his touch much more intense. 

Its just to maintain heat. You tried to convince yourself. 

You had spent a lot more time spellcasting then you thought, as you noticed the sun was starting to set behind the trees. You tried to get Lyiths attention, perhaps you should be heading home instead, but it was very hard to do as you guys were hurtling through the air at 20mph. 

You passed through a few more fields of flowers then made it to a small structure. It was an off-white, sort of oblong shed. It truly looked like some human sized animal cocoon. There was a ridge, which Rena pulled away using her glowing light magic. 

When you all went inside, you were glad to find the structure warm. Light radiated from the ceiling, as if their was a glowing cloud above. In the middle of the room was a yellow orb that radiated heat. There wasn't much else in the room except for… a beanbag chair? 

Rena saw you staring and gushed, “I saw it in a shop window on one of our grocery trips! You humans make the silliest things sometimes!! Look!!” She maneuvered you over and onto it with relative ease. The cushion was heaven to your aching limbs. That, coupled with the radiating heat from the orb, started to make you relax. Sleepy even.

Lyith and Rena took their seats on the floor next to you, seeming comfortable. The room was full of light that made their black eyes shine. Lyith, looked at you with concern, and started fussing over you, pulling your sleeves over your wrists and inching you closer to the orb. 

“You haven't eaten since lunch! Its already dusk.” he tutted, pulling your hair over onto one shoulder. He always had this habit of touching you whenever he could. It must be a Bee-man trait.

You looked over at Rena, who had decided to pass the time by examining your fingers; Then lacing them with hers. Her antennas were twitching about in an adorable way, meaning she must have been pleased. You let her touch you, happy for the companionship. If a human had touched you as much as Rena and Lyith did, you would be beyond flustered, but for some reason, the two of them made you feel safe. Comfortable. 

“I might have an old granola bar in my bag.” You volunteered groggily. Lyith took the bag from your lap and started going through it carefully. You spent that time marveling over just how cute he was. His fluff, more pronounced around the neck and chest, seemed even more fluffy after all the high speed flying. A part of you just wanted to go over and hug him like a big teddy bear. Affection filled your heart.

“No, I don't see anything.” He frowned, rearranging everything back into your bag.

Rena clasped your hand harder, you looked over and saw her smile at you.

“Oh thats fine, I still have some nectar I collected from earlier. Do you want some?” She batted her eyelashes.

Lyith quirked an eyebrow, before staring “ Rena-”

Without waiting for an answer, Rena moved forward and brought her lips to yours, locking in a tight kiss. Too shocked to move, you felt her tongue on yours, then a sudden rush of sweetness. It kept coming, filling your mouth until you were forced to swallow it down. You sputtered, whole body now hot.

“I-wah?” 

Lyith looked like he was trying to contain his laughter. “Rena doesn't spend much time with humans, please forgive her. But just know that sharing nectar this way is very normal for us.” Despite this, a glint of mischief started to twinkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“ Oooh um really?” You sputter.

He nodded. “You didn't get a lot to drink though. I took some nectar from your garden before I picked you up. Would you like to try it? The magic will refortify you.”

He bent over until he was eye level with you. His eyes went to your lips, then back up to your gaze. You swallowed quickly, opening your mouth to say… something? But Lyith took this as an invitation, pushing his lips to yours. His mouth tasted sweet even before the nectar came. And this somehow was better. Just like the nectar from the flower earlier, there was a small tartness, a bite.

Lyith held you close to himself, the pressure of his body pleasant. A warmth started to curl in your stomach as he pulled you even closer, tipping you back into Rena, who embraced you from behind as you drank. You somehow managed to swallow as he pushed your lips together even tighter, his tongue teasing yours as he fed you. 

You were not sure how long this went on. But you knew you were full, and you were dizzy when he finally pulled away, his eyes glassy. His gaze was heated as he stared you down. It was as if he might change his mind and eat you up himself. You gasped for breath, eyes fixed on him. The room was filled with purring noises from both of them. You could feel the vibrations through both of their chests. You swallowed thickly.

After what felt like an eternity, Lyith straightened himself up and his expression changed to one of laughter. He giggled then bumped his forehead against yours affectionately. Rena gave a little giggle herself then a hum behind you.

“If you're feeling better now, can we fly you home?” Lyith offered. You nodded dumbly, still shaking off the heavy atmosphere which had now turned light. You mumbled your goodbye to Rena, and explained you'd be back in a week to check on the progress of the flowers. She beamed and gave you another hug. Whatever reservations she had had about you in the beginning seemed to be gone now. You gave her one last wave before letting Lyith scoop you up again for the third time today. 

The ride home went by in a flash. The moon shone light onto your porch as he dropped you off. 

“I'll be back tomorrow for your garden.” He breathed, his face the same happy calm it usually was. His antennas twitched as you nodded at him. He leaned foreward and kissed your cheek.

“Get some rest. You did good today.” He didn't wait for an answer before he flew off into the night. 

You knew he had probably been referring to all the magic you had been working today, but a part of you hoped that maybe he had been referring to something else. You slapped your cheeks. 

“Hes a Bee-man.” You tried to remind yourself. You repeated it a few more times that night, as if it would help with your stupid warming cheeks, and pooling gut.

***

Part Three

Hi everybody! This part was a bit longer than the others but I hope you enjoy! So it turns out that bees do kiss! They share food and information this way through a process called trophallaxis. Hope that doesn't ruin the mood for you. Anywho, thanks for reading!

[evilminji]

I Am? Still? Thinking?? Of My Hive Mind Crechelings Au? (Prev <-)

The Creepy Crechelings? My Fuuuuckin POSSESSED Lil Babies (absolutely affectionate and full of love)?

I CAN'T STOP, man. It's the SOFTEST and WARMEST Epilog? Just... fuck, I wanna cry. It's SO FULL OF LIGHT? So content and happy and "then... our Hero gets to REST. No more struggle. No more pain. Just golden sweetness and simple days."???

The Tragedy Of Darth Vader WAS, ultimately, utterly and completely, because Anakin Skywalker was a GOOD MAN.

Because the Dark took something GOOD and twisted it. Made it MONSTROUS. Killing his soul with ten thousand cuts of doubt and fear. Anger, arrogance, and unwarranted pride. He had COMPASSION. So much love in him he could barely stand to BREATHE.

The world BURNED for how great his Empathy, made the weight of all the universe's suffering, upon his shoulders.

He was GOOD. Could STILL be good. And? The Force DOES work in mysterious ways. It just needs... an in. Someone, ANYONE, to ask the right question. At ANY point. Because it CAN NOT push upon them the answers. Fix for them all life's woes. The Force is not a God... it simple IS. And though it wishes to help, loves them dearly, it can only OFFER what is ASKED for.

And, yes, there are loopholes. Visions and gifts it might give. Technicalities it might work off of. That gut feeling? Well... your INSTINCTS want you to survive. Surely THEY are asking? Are they not? "How do we survive?" They ask. Endlessly. So the Force may answer.

And SURELY, The Force knows, the you of 20 seconds from now, would ASK them to warn you not to eat that fruit. It is poison. That is definitely in line with what you would ask! It can see it. Because Time is simultaneous to the Force. Why, it can even use this to justify, too itself, the Visions! SOMEONE is asking! It can even tell you whom! And when!

It WON'T.

But it COULD.

Yet! Let us focus! Anikin Skywalker!

Do YOU remember how he was born? Oh, sure, we are all PASSINGLY familiar. Born to Shmi Skywalker. "No Father". Etc etc? BUT!!! Details MATTER! And in science? In HEALTH? "Spontaneous Baby" is NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

How. What, SPECIFICALLY, made UP the spontaneous baby? From WHERE? Was it air? Energy? A clone? A hypothetical child of Shmi and some long dead individual she could not possibly have met?

These are important questions! Specifically, important to understand WHAT ANIKIN'S SPECIES IS. Cause "humanoid" is NOT a species! A race! Stewjoni and Naboolians are subtly different! Yes, both human variants. But that's the THING, isn't it?

They. Are. VARIANTS.

As in DIFFERENT. Divergent from one another. Perhaps not A LOT, but enough that their unique medical needs might be significant! Different environmental strains, different diets, different evolutionary paths for thousands of years. In SOME cases? They might no longer be COMPATIBLE anymore! Or barely! A tiger and a cat are both feline, but you'd be blind to mistake them as the same thing.

Then we have Anikin.

Who is haaaaalf??? What exactly?

Well, "The Force" according to research. By means of Sith meddling. But! And for the purpose of this ramble??

He is birth was "a work of the midi-chlorians".

.......let that sink in for a second. The Force channeling, HIVE MINDED, symbiotic micro organisms inside Shmi? Were instructed or guided to? Just take energy? Food and DNA. And... 3D print a baby into existence. They did, obviously, it was easy. But CONSIDER WHAT THAT MEANS.

It MEANS?

Anikin is HALF MIDI-CHLORIAN.

(At least in this AU.)

It's WHY he is so, SO fuckin desperate to connect. So ungodly powerful. So destabilized by not having "attachments". His brain is structured by organisms and half IS, of a sort, the sort of organism that REQUIRES an interconnected system. To offload the massive amount of sensory input the Force gives him. To regulate Big Emotions. To form councils and crunch through problems.

To get those good, good Soul Hugs.

Anikin? Not doing so hot. He's been SURROUNDED by what FEELS like a hive? But they keep EXCLUDING him and he doesn't have the words to explain why that upset him. Why he wants to crawl inside their brains an just... just hang. Not touch anything! Just... just nap! Maybe get a hug? P... Please?

Why does EVERYONE HATE HIM?!

But they don't. They just have different boundaries. Are NOT Hive Minds. THEIR Midi-chlorians? Are not at such a high concentration that it affects their thought patterns.

Unlike? The Creepy Crechelings.

Who absolutely doooooo. THEY are still in the We/Us phase. Boundaries? What Boundaries? We're crawling through each other's brains and on the ceiling! Full of light, love, and horrifying prophecy! Eating sand! Many thoughts, head full! We can taste TIME!!! :D

And it takes a SPECIAL breed of Creche Master with VERY strong shields to interact with them. Mind tricks are both accidental and daily. Poker face of kindness is a must. Good emotional regulation. So when one sees Anikin losing his shit again?

They sigh. Put down their muffin. And go deal with it.

Probably not even awake.

They just feel *Overwhelming Power* and hear upset noises and go "Ah, starting early, today is." Then wander over. And effortlessly defuse the situation. Flop their Force presence on Anikin like a weighted blanket. It would be UNSPEAKABLY rude and invasive to most anyone else? But Obi-Wan just...? Watchs his ex-padawan go BONELESS against this Crech Master he's never met? Like :O

T-teach me. Please, for the love of the Force, teach me to do that.

Next thing you know? They are talking, Obi-Wan getting a crash course in Super Powerful Younglings™ that honestly he should have gotten YEARS ago, but was run too ragged to. And Anikin? Blissed out, high as a kite, at the bottom of a Youngling pile. Mmmmm, lumpy pillow. We gonna sit and sleep and climb all over you, Master Skywalker.

*adoring, emotionally gooey voice* Okay.

He volunteers. Fuck it, he practically LIVES out of that Creche. Padme! Padme, we're adopting. He wants to be a stay at home dad. Build droids. Everything is Beautiful and nothing hurts. *war is still happening* ah. Shit. Right. THAT™.

Okay! New plan. AFTER the war. He has discovered his calling. Is suddenly bonding with Jedi he's never even talked to before. Is that Plo Koon? Plo! PLO! Hey, thanks for lending me that youngling development module! You got any others you recommend?

Him and Obi-Wan? Suddenly getting along better then they have in YEARS. His Master seems genuinely THRILLED he has a clear goal he's working towards and is supporting him ten thousand percent. Openly bragging. Consulting with him. AND? Is so much more OPEN! That Creche Master really helped him Understand how Anikin's brain works!

Which? Leads to Anikin getting healthier. More and more stable. The babies fuckin sneaking aboard. His Men LOSING THEIR SHIT because WHY ARE THERE TUBIES, SIR?! Babies! Infants! Smol, itty bitty, BABY CHILDS!!!???

And? On one hand? He has never felt so clear head and stable as when they are with him. Interconnected. US and WE and THE HIVE. The Force is With Us and We are The Force.

Buuuuuut on the OTHER hand? He is an adult. He CAN seperate what HE wants from what is good for his lil baby friends. This isn't safe. They could get HURT. Die! It... honestly? It makes him think about his mom a lot. He thinks he finally GETS it. Hates that he does. Is in AWE of how strong she was. Hopes he can take the lessons she taught him and live up to them.

Because it's not about what HE wants. It's about what's best for these kids.

They have to go back.

.....except the man he THOUGHT was his friend? THOUGHT was a GOOD MAN? Won't let them LEAVE THE FRONT LINES. Won't even authorize an emergency shuttle. There are vulnerable children. On the FRONT LINES. And Shee-...no. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, won't let them GET THEM TO SAFETY?

Is THIS what over a decade of friendship means to this man? Is THIS what his "sympathies" are truely WORTH? Empty words and no action? Saying what you want to hear then sitting in his fancy office while CHILDREN are shot at?

Anikin wants to put his fist through a durasteel WALL.

Through some careful maneuvering, some Ships on the way back are are able to pick up the VERY In Trouble kiddos. It'll be about five ship hops. But they'll get there. And in the mean time? The entire GAR now knows where the Chancellor's priorities lay.

But? What to do, what to do? The kiddos are GONE! Anikin's head is gonna start getting crowded. Fuzzy. Crushed up and too small! He literally, physically, NEEDS people. For his mental and ultimately physical health!

"Well... you DID say Midi-chlorians are in every living thing, didn't you? It's just that most Sentients don't have enough to reach the threshold of Force Sensitive. Right?" Says Anikin's medic.

Anikin raises a finger. Opens his mouth to respond.

Considers this genuinely.

Puts DOWN his finger and closes his mouth. Nods. Yes. Yes, they DO. Why? Where exactly are you going with this? Medic taps a message to the GAR in ship message board. Please. You know EXACTLY where he's going with this.

Yeah.

Yeah, Anikin does.

And the Vode? Gotta admit. Having their General curled up like a comm system in the back of their brains? Kiiiiinda weird at first. But he's not? Actually? Touching anything? It's kinda like having someone follow you around, hanging off your shoulders in a hug. Because they feel needy and desperately need the contact. Little awkward? Yeah.

But we move on.

And the General respects boundaries. Politely pulls back and out/away when they want "personal" time. Something he had practice doing cause he's in a relationship. And there are Thoughts and Feelings you DO NOT want to share with younglings. It apparently helped him learn to shield. Quickly. Very, VERY quickly.

They only laugh at him a little bit.

He imagines throwing pillow blocks at them.

But THEN? One of them gets a head wound. Nothing to terrible. But bad enough that the midi-chlorians flow up to the area, to help speed up and properly regulate the healing. Because their's have become more active. Not STRONGER mind you. Just... more ACTIVE.

And they can fucking FEEL their General mentally screech to a full stop. Perfectly, utterly, FURIOUSLY Blank. Like the dead silence before the blaster bolts start flying. Like just after the flash but before the blast hits. A terrible, TERRIBLE silence.

Something is Wrong.

"What Is That?"

What is... WHAT? Sir?

And then things move very, very quickly. All things possible, through the Force. A baby created. Chips UN-created. It really is? Just directing the Midi-chlorians all ready THERE to do what you want them too. Offering up some extra energy, if needed. A Leader to guide the hive.

One deep enough meditation, reaching though-out "HIS" sprawling body? Really, what is the difference between purging a chip from your thigh in THIS body? And being over there? Or over there? What are "walls" or "distance" or this silly concept of "other"?

We Are One With The Force, And The Force Is One With US.

He is every Vode on the Ship. He is Anikin Skywalker. He was a Slave. But now? NOW both he and they and US? Are FREE. He will suffer no slaves in his presence. No more chips or collars with bombs. Time to free the others. Free everyone. Demand ANSWERS.

And they do.

The epilog? Oh THAT I can not stop thinking of.

Padme in the senate. Fierce and accomplished. A storied carrier fighting for the people of the galaxy. Anikin a Creche Master for the POWERFUL kiddos. The strange ones who need someone sturdy.

Who can handle their Us/We phase with grace. Who learns and grows, honors and remembers Shmi Skywalker every time one of them one of them starts to pull away. Starts to develop boundaries. Barriers. Starts to want to be their OWN person. Has not just grown strong in shielding but old enough to develop a defined personality, seperate from their friends.

The twins growing up with a whole Creche of siblings. Because their parents LIVE at the temple. Their mother works at the senate! They wave bye-bye every morning. And spend the day with dad. Not separated, not quite living with them fully either. Not after infancy at least. But the Order is changing.

Vode everywhere. Kids born of Jedi. The Corps withdrawn back to the temple to help handle the influx. Lots of debates about Tradition and Change that Anikin care not a lick about. HE'S taking his Crechelings to the Naboolian Embassy's Spring Festival. Does everyone remember how to be polite? Say "hello"! *various smol children chorus Hello in Naboolian, badly but very earnestly*

Just? Field trips. Droids and Vode dropping by to say hello. Padme being the LION of the senate while her retired kindergarten tearcher equivalent, war hero husband cheers. Adorable but freaky children popping out of the vents. Anikin treating his tiny squad of Tiny Anti-christ Acting Babies as though this were TOTALLY NORMAL and just how children act.

SOFT AND FLUFFY EPILOG~☆

@legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hypewinter @hdgnj @spidori @tiredafel

[the-kr8tor]

Perhaps for fluffy friday/hobie brown x reader. Maybe it could be like a beach night? For example: Hobie and reader are strolling along the beach at night, and at one point they end up getting into a bit of a playful splash-fight with the shallow ends? Anyways- I really like your writing! It always manages to give me inspo whenever I have writers block:))

Thank you for requesting! Hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The shore glows nothing like you've ever seen before. Iridescent blues and purple dance along the tides as they lap at the sandy beaches; like tiny glittering stars fell into the sea to join with the seafoam.

You use the light as your guide while Hobie holds onto your hand to make sure you're not taken in by the waves. His other hand holds onto your sandals as you're occupied with splashing your feet into the salty waters; effectively lighting up the shimmering stars with your movements. Leaving specks of light instead of footsteps in the sand.

“Do you think the small algae can make you sick?” He suddenly asks above the sound of waves and the endless night.

“What?” You pause mid-step, squeezing his hand once. “What do you mean?”

You can see his faint outline, a halo around him appearing thanks to the full moon above. “Like black mold.”

You scrunch your brows. “I don't think they're the same though.” Continuing to walk, he lets go of your hand to snake his arm around your waist. Chin placed on your shoulder, lips blowing air into your ear as you lean closer. You giggle, craning your head to meet with his stare. “Hi to you too, Hobie.”

Blue lights dance on his pensive face, “Algae are alive, and they're the cause of the bioluminescence.” He once thought that the long walks on the beach were a bunch of bollocks, but now that he's strolling along with you under the moonlight— he thinks that he should add it to his introduction whenever he has to introduce himself. “D’you think they'll get into your skin?”

You still haven't seen through his act.

“Someone read the pamphlet.” You tease, wiping away stray sand from his cheeks left when you buried him in the sand a few hours ago. He's absolutely enamored by you in this light. “Like, they'd make my feet glow or something?”

Hobie huffs, leaning away and taking your nose in his fingers to squeeze playfully. Your laughter echoes around the near empty beach. “‘m just lookin' after you. What if the algae gets in between your nails and enters your system, huh? What then?” He's incredibly happy in paradise with you. A bit sunburnt from how much he surfed and forgot to reapply sunscreen, but happy nonetheless.

“Wha’!” Your voice is altered by his fingers around your nose. Eyes wide, you still don't see what he's doing. Your face coaxes him to continue with his scheme.

“You'll be taken over by algae, and then turned into one of its mindless hosts to add to their growing mind hive.” Every word he says, your fear is stomped away, leaving only a (feigned) flat expression. “Imagine that, you'll be my algae girlfriend—”

You yank his finger away, biting it but not enough to actually hurt him. Hobie laughs, taking back his hand to embrace you while the waves drench both of your ankles. He laughs into your neck, you feel his laughter reverberate in his chest. Hugging him tighter, you trace his spine with your knuckles, feeling him relax even more.

“‘Algae girlfriend’, fuck off.” You say with a giggle. Hobie slowly brings you further into the shallow part of the beach. The water has now reached just above your knees as he leaves quick kisses on your face with a smile. “You're knee deep in the algae now too.”

Hobie feigns a dramatic gasp, earning another hearty laugh from you. “Good thing I know how to cure it, love.”

You tilt your head, curious about what ridiculousness he's about to come up with. Smiling, you pat his chest lovingly. “What is it?”

“Salt water.”

“Oh, is it really?” You sarcastically say. Pretending to let the information convince you. Hobie tamps down a laugh from your supposed thinking face. “The cure is their habitat too? How curious.”

He chuckles, moving away, slyly crouching down to scoop up water in his palms; drenching his linen pants but he already forgot about the cold seeping through his clothes the second you copy his movements.

You splash water at his face, quicker than him, while Hobie gets a mouthful of saltwater. He splutters, “Is that how it is then?” His eyes shine like the bioluminescence in the water, glinting with mischief. “‘m cured, but you're not, love.”

Shrieking and laughing while you run away from him, Hobie stalks you with his large strides, catching up to you effortlessly.

“Get back ‘ere! The algae is already in your brain!” He chases after you with a grin, while you continue to run while your guffaws echo around the beach; prompting other people to stare at you two with raised brows.

[firstkanaphans]

if i have permission to be a bit of a bitch in your inbox (feel free to ignore this if not), the dichotomy people build between bl and queer media is sooooo fascinating. and of course by that i mean it gives me hives. the universalizing of 'real queer experiences' is obnoxious as hell, but how its been applied to ofts has really shown me why i find it so obnoxious. most of the people who hold this dichotomy would never classify a bl that ignores homophobia as 'authentically queer' media. but i definitely saw people who hoped that the 'authentically queer' ofts would exist in a bubble without any slutshaming, or that it would be resolutely shut down in show. but in my aroallo experience? that would be as inauthentic as the no homophobia bubble, so where does that leave us?

also the circular logic in the bl vs queer media arguments is mind numbing. 'bl doesnt cover these types of themes' yeah dude because you forcibly remove everything with those themes from the bl category in your head. 'queer media must acknowledge homophobia' the idea that a story by queer people about queer characters isnt really queer because it chooses to focus on joy or discovery or any other facet of queer existence is so fucking depressing. go hug a queer friend and think about why you feel queerness is defined by suffering before anything else.

Oh, hey, you found my soap box, Anon! Let me just step on up there with you for a minute.

So, first off, let me just say how much I hate the term “authentically” queer. It seems to suggest that in order to be queer, you have to be queer a certain way. As an ultra femme lesbian, the queer community often makes me feel like I’m not queer enough. That I don’t understand the hardships that come with being gay because I am “straight-passing.” This is the same thing people do to BLs. News flash: if you’re queer, you’re queer. Period. Congratulations, that’s all it takes to be authentic!

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that a large percentage of the people I see using this designation are straight women who think that queer suffering is a necessary part of the queer experience, but a lot of “authentically queer” people—me included—don’t want to be reminded of our real-life suffering every time we turn on the TV. Heartstopper is triggering for me. Bad Buddy is not. As a queer woman currently living in Ron DeSantis’s Florida,  I deserve to be able to turn on the TV every once in a while and not be reminded that there are people in the world who want me dead.

I’ve learned that when people describe a BL as “authentically queer,” what they actually mean is “This BL feels more Western”—the racist insinuation there being that Western media is inherently better.

I feel like The Eclipse is a good example of this hypocrisy. No one has ever called The Eclipse “authentically queer” despite the fact that it delivers one of the most nuanced takes on the dangers of systemic homophobia that I have seen anywhere. The writers of both the source material and the script are gay men. The director is queer. That seems to meet all of the qualifications these people set for “authentically queer” and yet no one has ever questioned that The Eclipse is a BL. Why? Because it incorporates traditionally Asian/yaoi humor tropes such as the pratfall and the accidental kiss. 

Are you sensing a pattern? It’s not the queer-ness of a piece of media that determines whether it is seen as “authentic.” It is its “Western-ness.”

Let me be very clear: All BLs are “authentically queer” media because the only requirement needed for a piece of media to be “authentically” queer is for the characters to be queer. And if you don’t like that, then maybe stop watching BLs.

If the people who were producing these shows had a problem with the term, that would be another discussion, but they don’t. P’Jojo has never advertised Only Friends as anything other than a BL. The fandom did that for him. And with all due respect, if the people making the fucking thing are calling it a BL, then it’s a fucking BL.

So, yeah. Not liking BLs doesn’t make you cool. It makes you a bigot. The fact that the term has become so derogatory is rooted in both racism and misogyny because this was originally a genre created by women, for women, and the hobbies of women are so often infantilized.

BLs are queer media. Die mad about it.

[formulapookie]

🩵❤️

Torino capitale peccocele, 2.5k words

Cele comes hug him after his win, he’s still on the bike, Cele still shining from his victory, he looks so happy, he deserved it so much, coming back after two weeks spent being declared unfit, a really badly place plaque in his collarbone, and a breathtaking quali, the win was his already, and the amazing start he pulled just confirmed it.

Cele looks at him with pride, yells “Bravo” and another string of words he doesn’t really understand, too focused on the feeling of the arms he’s come to call home wrapped around him, focused on Cele’s laughter and his black curls escaping the containment of the cap, he smiles back, they look at each other, then Pecco rides to Parc Fermé.

He’s happy for the win, of course he fucking is, 10 victories in 19 races, he holds up both hands to show it, smiling under the helmet, but the other thought starts settling in.

Minus 24. Minus 24. Minus 24.

He is 24 points behind Jorge. It’s almost impossible for him to win it this year. What a fucking joke really, 10 wins out of 19 races and he’s loosing the Championship.

Mathematically, he’s still in for the fight, but realistically? He lost it. He knows Jorge won’t make a mistake, he knows that even if he wins he will not achieve the Championship. And if he does achieve it, it’s because of Jorge’s mistakes, not because he did something brilliant. That’s what’s running around his head, when people hug him, tell him he’s great, a Champion in their heart.

Everything following is something he does almost robotically, talking to Jorge, taking the Valencia flag, walking to the podium, then trophy, anthem picture, no champagne, another pic, down the podium and media duties.

On SkyItalia they ask him if he would cancel the Sprint Races for the following year, of course he would, and he says that, loud and clear, he tries to hold up a mask, something, because inside he’s just empty now, an empty shell with bones, but he has to speak, and bones don’t speak, so he forces out a polite smile, a polite answer, analyzes the fight, then he goes.

And he’s back to being a sack of bones.

The walk to his motorhome is strangely quiet, both outside and inside his mind, he doesn’t even have the strength to hate himself for losing.

He just wants his space, wants to go back home, to the person he calls home, he needs to be with Cele, alone, far from everyone, feel his heartbeat and his presence.

He doesn’t want to call him tho, he doesn’t want to bother, because no matter how many times the boy tells him he could never bother him by calling he’s scared he would, because Cele won, and he has to be happy about it, after the injury most of all, and his negativity won’t do him any good.

But when he enters his rider’s room Cele is there, sitting on a chair waiting for him, and the brightest smile appears on his face when he sees Pecco. He gets up and goes to hug him, tight, almost as if he knows he can’t hold himself up alone, he keeps telling him “bravissimo, sei stato bravissimo”, whispering it in his ear, keeping him close, and Pecco can’t hold his tears in anymore, he just goes numb in the embrace and cries quietly on Cele’s shoulder.

He spends around ten minutes there, calming down gradually as Cele strokes his back, reassuring him, calling him “campione” an awful amount of times. Cele has been out of the racing gear for hours now, and he helps Pecco change into normal clothes, a pair of shorts and an academy t-shirt.

When Cele manages to sit pecco down on the couch they’re both much more relaxed, Pecco’s head went from quiet numbness and absence of thoughts to a buzzing hive full of hateful comments towards himself, first of all for losing the Championship, and secondly for holding back Cele from going to celebrate his win.

“Celin you don’t have to stay here, you won you should go celebrate, get wasted with Bez, not here with me sulking” “Don’t give me bullshit Francesco, I’m not leaving you alone with all you have running through your head, I prefer being with you and know you’re safe rather than go get drunk with Bez and ending up throwing up in a bin somewhere in Sepang” “No Celin you have to go out and have fun not solve my issues” “Say all you want I’m not leaving you here, so hop hop let’s get to the hotel so you can rest and break away from this place ok?” “But-” “No buts, let’s go”

Pecco gets basically dragged out the garage into Cele’s rented car, who drives the short five minutes from there to the Hotel with an unusual calm, and Pecco finds himself staring at Cele’s profile, more than he usually already does, lingering on the shape on his lips and his nose, which Cele always says it’s ugly but Pecco always found to be pretty and unique, giving Cele a sort of vibe that made him look like he came straight from a 19th century painting.

They park in the reserved area and get in, avoiding fans who somehow found out where they slept and decided to camp outside to snap a pic of their favourite riders.

They get to the fourth floor and into Pecco’s room, they both prefer to be at his “place” after or before a race, it makes Pecco more relaxed and Cele feels welcomed.

They both go straight to the bed, sitting on it and Pecco curls in Cele’s arms once again, as the younger strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

Pecco tilts his head up and locks eyes with Cele, and he slowly comes up to kiss him, like he always does, slow and gentle, and one of his hands rests on Cele’s thigh to hold himself up. Cele kisses him back, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him more against his chest.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, Cele’s free hand going to tug at Pecco’s hair and Pecco letting out a soft moan at the action.

Cele breaks away pretty quickly tho, and Pecco fears he did something wrong, maybe Cele doesn’t want this and he’s forcing him, oh God what if he’s forcing Cele? 

“Stop thinking so loudly Pecco I can hear your thoughts, I stopped because I need to ask you something” “Ok ok” “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of the situation and if you’re not in the mood that’s more than ok” “No no I am in the mood, are you sure you are? I know we usually - after your wins we celebrate a bit more - you know what I mean” “Yeah I do I do, I don’t care if we don’t do it like other times, slow is fine you know that”

Pecco blushes, Cele is so sweet and understanding with him he doesn’t get how someone can keep up with him and all his paranoias without getting bored at some point.

Pecco opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, the blush on his cheeks increasingly becoming redder.

“Can you - like can you - Celin can you top this time? I just want to get out of my head” “Of course, whatever makes you feel better amore” “Thank you”

They resume kissing, Cele takes the hem of Pecco’s shirt in his hands and pulls it up, discarding it on the floor beside the bed, doing the same with his shirt, before resuming the kiss and moving his hands to unbutton and unzip Pecco’s jeans, cupping his erection through the briefs.

“Celin”

It’s a broken plea, coming from Pecco who’s bucking his hips in Cele’s hand to try and get some pleasure, while Cele lays him down on the bed tugging down his pants and boxers, leaving him naked surrounded by soft sheets.

He gets up to grab the lube they left in the older’s backpack, coming back immediately to a whimpering Pecco who’s stroking himself in the wait, and it kinda makes him proud, how he managed to get him needy and hard in so little time.

 Cele gets on the bed, and gently opens Pecco’s legs, squirting some lube on his hand and heating it up, then slowly pushing one finger in, it’s been a while since Pecco bottomed, but he always enjoys it when the older lets go of his mental restraints and gives himself like this

Pecco whines already at the first digit, but tells him to go on, so Cele resumes his movements, pushing the finger inside until his knuckle meets the rim, then pulling out, thrusting it a few times, then adding a second finger, scissoring them to get Pecco adjusted to the stretch.

He’s a bit rushed, but the older gets it, Cele is 23, he just won and they rarely switch, so he excuses his lack of absolute control, mostly because to get out of his head he knows it’s gonna have to be the kind of sex where he melts completely, so it’s no use being fake gentle now.

When a third finger gets pushed inside Pecco grips at the sheets, parting his lips to let out a louder moan, Cele clearly aroused by the state he got Pecco in, rutting slightly against the bed.

“I’m ready Celin I’m ready”

The younger’s eyes sparkle when he hears those words, he’s getting harder every second more and rutting against the mattress is not helping in the slightest, so he sits up and unzips his jeans, tugging them off, one leg getting stuck, a string of curse words leaving his mouth before he removes his boxers as well, throwing them on the edge of the bed.

He aligns himself with Pecco’s hole and starts pushing inside, grabbing his hips with both hands to keep him still, stroking his hip bones with his thumbs.

He lets out a deep groan once he manages to get inside all the way, Pecco feels tight, not an uncomfortable kind of tight, but he needs to move or he’s pretty certain he’ll die by just staying there.

“Gonna move ok?” “Yeah do it do it”

The first thrusts are more controlled, tentative, soft almost, because despite wanting to go faster and harder Cele also wants to keep himself in check not to hurt Pecco. But the older clearly either doesn’t care or simply doesn’t feel that pain because he immediately wraps his legs around Cele’s waist and forces him to go deeper.

“Don’t hold back I want to feel you all the way” “Ok fuck you feel good” “You feel amazing”

And both are true, Cele might not be thick like Pecco, maybe just a bit longer, it’s not like they told eachother their exact lengths, and he manages to make him feel so fucking good.

As soon as his thrusts become deeper and faster Pecco is moaning, one hand gripping the sheets and the other thrown over his eyes, occasionally shifting to comb back his hair, curls falling over his forehead, sticky from the heat and uncomfortable.

Cele picks up the pace once again, Pecco’s string of thoughts getting replaced, going from words of self-despise to just pleasure. He can only think about that, how Cele feels inside him, how their moans get mixed together in the silence of the hotel room, how he can let himself be just him and not some persona for the media, how Cele cares for him.

The younger shifts a bit to get more comfortable, moving his hand to go look for the one Pecco is gripping at the sheets with, locking their fingers together, thrusting deeper, feeling Pecco squeeze his hand with force, the older’s legs pulling him even closer, tightening their grip on his waist.

He barely has manoeuvre space, but the one he has is enough to get Pecco closer with each thrust, finding his prostate takes a bit longer than he’d like, but once again, he hasn’t topped in a while and he gets overwhelmed by having Pecco in bed with him.

Sometimes he still can’t understand how he gets to have him. Like- this one right here moaning under him is a 3xMotogp world Champion, he’s now a 10 times gp winner in a single season, he’s won so many races, and he’s the one he looked up to as a kid. When he was younger he always said “I want to be like Pecco when I grow up” and now he finds himself fucking him into the mattress of a hotel in Malaysia after they both won the race and Pecco is begging for him to go harder and harder.

When he shifts his gaze from Pecco’s face to his dick he sees it basically shiny with precum, hard and red, the vein he usually passes his tongue over when he blows him being the first thing he notices.

“You’re so hot”

The only answer Pecco gets out is a moan, arching his back slightly, mouth in a perfect o shape as Cele keeps fucking him with the same intensity as before, their moans getting mixed with the sound of skin slapping.

Cele moves the hand he’s got on Pecco’s hip next to his head to lean in and make out with him, swallowing all the pretty sounds he’s making, slowly moving down, kissing his jaw, then onto his neck, leaving a few bruises he’ll watch proudly for a few days, never stopping his thrusts, because they’re both getting closer to the edge, Pecco especially, looking anything but the composed and put together version he shows media and fans.

Pecco’s free hand goes to tangle itself in Cele’s mop of hair, so unruly he found himself many times having to comb them somehow, they’re still wet now, from the race, the sweat, the heat.

They’re as messy as him, and Pecco loves to run his hands through them when they’re laying on his couch, Cele’s head on his lap as they watch a movie.

A harder thrust gets him back to the present, the feeling of Cele hovering above him, hot breath on his neck, he still smells like a race, the acrid sting of leathers and fuel on both of them, attached to their skin.

The younger almost glistens with sweat now, he looks like a vision.

Cele can’t hold on anymore, he’s so damn close, he needs to come, so he wraps a hand around Pecco’s dick, stroking it fast, not in time with his thrusts, much faster, and Pecco comes like a fucking fountain all over Cele’s hand and his own abs, as Cele thrusts a few more times before coming inside him, moaning his name directly into his ear, before pulling out and immediately laying beside Pecco, resting his head on his chest.

They’re panting hard, now the smell of sex joining the one of racing, Cele leaving kisses on Pecco’s chest, taking the older’s hand in his again, while Pecco plays with his hair as he always does. They’ll think about getting cleaned up later on, right now they just need this, a moment to themselves, to be just them, close, in the post sex haze where they feel like one and not two people, where both feel at home.

[danielfuckingricciardo]

for ur spotify wrapped game: 27 + lance stroll !!🫶🏻

Hi!!! Tysm for the request!

Song 27 - Can’t Help Falling In Love // Elvis Presley

My music taste really is all over the place lol sorry! But I am having thoughts abt this one cos this song is so damn sweet 😭😭😭 Enter wholesome Lance and his anxious gf!

Trigger warning for anxiety and mild panic attack

Vegas. The city of bright lights, parties, gambling and chaos. Even the thought of it gave you hives. No part of it appealed to you, and you were only there because your boyfriend Lance would be racing there in exactly three days time.

So, you sucked it up. You decided you’d try your best to look like you were enjoying yourself, even if the bright lights gave you a headache and the crowds of loud and drunken revellers made you anxious.

You grip Lance’s hand a little tighter as you walk through the lobby of the Bellagio, attempting to smile as what feels like a million cameras flash in your direction.

You knew that it shouldn’t bother you, that it’s just a consequence of dating a celebrity, but it did. You weren’t famous - you were no one. You just happened to meet Lance by chance and, as people do, you fell in love. For some reason that you could not quite understand, that made you worthy of being plastered all over gossip pages, your name smeared all over social media with equal amounts of praise and hate.

The bright flashes and shouts made your body tense up, and, as Lance sensed your stress, he gave your hand a small reassuring squeeze.

“We can go back to the room, if you want?” He asks quietly, and you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay, let’s go,” you respond, putting on a brave face and a smile as the two of you head into the casino together.

Once inside, you breathe a sigh of relief as you realise the casino’s patrons are more interested in gambling away their life’s savings than you. It was comforting, in a strange way, but the bright lights and loud sounds of the machines and roulette wheels didn’t help to calm your already anxious state.

You take a shaky breath in and out and grip Lance’s hand harder as you try and stop the room from spinning. It was all too much, you couldn’t bare it any longer.

“Hey, uh, I changed my mind, can we go?” You whisper, and Lance nods as he guides you back out of the casino and towards the elevators.

Lucky for the two of you, the fans and paparazzi had dissipated, and you no longer had to put on a brave face for the cameras. Instead, you could focus on calming yourself down, with Lance’s hand in yours providing a comfortable grounding to keep you there in the moment and out of your own anxious head.

Once back in your room, you take a seat on the edge of the bed and throw off your heels.

“I’m sorry,” You say, your voice barely above a whisper as Lance looks at you with a soft smile.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” He responds.

Lance kneels down before you and takes your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“It’s all just a little… overwhelming,” You say, and Lance chuckles lightly.

“I know. I’m not a fan of it either. It does get easier, you find ways of coping with it all,” he says, and you smile at him.

“Yeah, I suppose I will. It’s all just so new to me, I guess. You’d be better off dating someone else famous.”

“I don’t want some random celebrity, I want you. You being the way that you are, that’s what made me fall in love with you,” he says, and you gaze into those beautiful dark brown eyes of his, which were full of sincerity and love.

“Damn, you’re good at rizzing up anxious chicks,” you chuckle, and Lance laughs too.

He reaches out to wrap his arms around you in a tight and comforting hug.

“You’re the only ‘anxious chick’ I want to ‘rizz up’ (Y/N)” he chuckles, before pressing a soft kiss to each of your cheeks, and planting a final sweet kiss to your lips.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

bay of emeralds academy readers who had not so good biological parents. Maybe dragonet reader had parents who tried to sacrifice them, I know there are some animals who will strait up drop their babies in order to escape prey. So maybe their parents gave up or reader when they were young in order to escape scavengers how you'd platonic yandere adults react to this when reader finally confided in them.

Hmmmm... I can work with that. While I don't think Reader's biological parents (or who they think are their biological parents) would abandon them because of scavengers being nearby, as I see them living in a HiveWing Hive in Pantala originally, they have the potential to be cruel or demeaning to Reader. They'd likely be self-centered, narrow-minded, and demanding, wanting Reader to be what they want, rather than encouraging Reader to be themself. Theyd make Reader feel insecure and small, only giving praise when Reader does what they want when they want it. They only give conditional attention and care; otherwise, they leave Reader on their own, regardless of if they're crying or upset or being hurt. They might leave Reader or abandon them at an early age at an orphanage or on a random dragon's steps, but they'd leave a lasting impression on Reader, making them believe all adults are secretly awful and want you to only please them, regardless of what you actually want, and will belittle you if you ask for help...

If Reader told the platonic yandere adults about this, they'd be livid. They'd want to officially adopt Reader then and there, but hold back. No wonder Reader is so jumpy around them, and always try to say the right thing. This poor dragonet doesn't even know what they want, let alone what's expected of them. Reader only shows others what Reader thinks they want to see, so there's always a barrier between actual connection. Well, it won't stay that way for long! As soon as possible, they are transferring complete custody of Reader to the school, and keeping them far away from the dragons who barely kept them alive...

Chary is letting Reader know how proud he is they told him this information, and that he will do everything in his power to move custody of them to him and the school. (He doesn't mention adoption just yet). He's asking if they need a minute, or if they want a handkerchief for their eyes or nose. He remains gentle and quiet, offering words of comfort and letting them know it will be alright...

Storm is hugging Reader, wiping away any tears that roll down their face and twining her tail with their's. She tells them they're strong, for telling her all of this, and asks if Reader is okay. If Reader needs to spend the night with someone (assuming they don't want to be seen by the students as weak), Storm is offering to let Reader sleep in her room for the night, having a small sleepover...

Locust is taking it in, then snarling. He let's Reader know they're brave, and better than their parents ever were. He's also secretly plotting to hunt them down and make them pay for hurting his kid. He's letting Reader pour out any emotions and reactions with him, crying or screaming or sobbing, whatever helps get the bad stuff out. Then he's wrapping his wings around them in a small hug...

Beauty is having to take a deep breath. Then he's pulling out some tea and a jar of sweets, telling Reader to grab a cup amd take a few honeydrops while they calm down. He's furious on the inside, but keeps calm on the outside for Reader. He's offering to let them vent to him when they need to, and asking if they want to have a journal for when they feel down, amd one for when they feel happy. If Reader is tired after that, he's throwing a blanket around their shoulders and telling them to rest their eyes for a few minutes...

Manta is angry, inside and out. He let's Reader know they will never go back to those dragons, and if they come to cause trouble, he and the others will protect Reader. He's telling them that as of now, he and Chary will see about moving full custody of Reader to them and the school, and assures them it is for the best. If he secretly asks Chary to find out the names of the dragons who hurt Reader so he can help hunt them down, then no one heard a thing, now, did they...

Majestic is turning bright red and burning black and boiling green. She's ready to spit venom on the poor fools who hurt her dragonet! She let's Reader know she is there if they need any help or if they have anything else they want to say, and she won't turn them away. She offers Reader a piece of fruit, and asks if they have any other problems they need to talk about, all while plotting an assassination of their former parents...

Sawfly is demanding names and descriptions. He tells Reader they're worth more than their parents weight in gold, and they're nicer, too. He offers a bit of comfort, letting Reader stay in his room for a bit while he starts making a list to give Chary and Manta. He let's Reader know they aren't in trouble, and that Reader did nothing wrong. What he doesn't tell them is he and his brother and a few of the others are about to hunt their parents down and have a nice, "friendly" chat with them, with added claws and venom and death...

Chary: NightWing Xavier

Storm: IceWing Storm

Locust: HiveWing Logan

Beauty: SilkWing Beast

Manta: SeaWing Magneto

Majestic: RainWing Mystique

Sawfly: HiveWing Sabretooth

[annawayne]

How does one motivate themselves to write? I've been trying to at least get a word or so in, before completely demotivating and sitting at my screen thinking what to do and wasting that time. Any recommendations of what to do if you've ever had such problems? And of course, have a lovely day!

Hello, anon!

Sorry, it took me a few days to answer, since it was quite hectic for me, but I was also thinking about this situation of yours and how to approach it the best way possible.

First of all, thank you a lot for asking me about it, and that you saw me as someone who, perhaps, could give some advice T^T

And also, for your question, of course, I had such issues or such days, or even months. I guess, all of us who write, from time to time meet this state of not being able to write a single sentence, only staring in our monitors without any single idea what to write. In fact, if I'm being honest, I always have a struggle when I start working on the new chapter. When it's in the process, it's already flowing, so even when the scenes/timeline change, it's all the part of the bigger process, but the beginning of this chapter? It's a huge struggle for me for sure.

Of course, every person is different and this topic is always about personal, however, I gave it a thought and tried to compose the more general points that, I suppose, could be quite a good start of finding the methods which work particularly for you.

I noticed that you mentioned "thinking what to do and wasting the time". You know, I would say something that sounds a bit absurd, but - don't think what to do. We all writers often face the fear of being disappointed in ourselves, especially after getting so excited and inspired by other excellent stories, but when it comes for us to create, all we stare is the blank paper, so terrifying in its emptiness and whiteness. This sterility is pristine and so perfect, so when your thoughts, just like the vibrant hive, also agitated by the waves of sudden inspiration from another story, meet the completely clear paper, it immediately "cools down" the whole motivation, so sudden in its burst, whispering right away all the nitpicking words of "you'll never write something like that". And this is exactly what we need to choke right there - don't let this fear to hold your creativity behind the dam, let it flow! The wild waters don't see the limit, they never think about borders - they just flow in their glory. So let your creativity splash - you don't have to think what to write for now, just start writing everything in your mind, and for now, it'll be the first step into more deliberate writing. We never demand from a child to be a professional runner in their first years of life, don't we? The child learns how to interact with this world - firstly, with crawling, then, with first steps that become more solid pace, then, run, climb, until it becomes something we don't even pay attention to. With writing all the same - when we have this state, everything, just like the world for the child, is immersive, but we don't say to them, "Get up and run!". No, we teach them, support them, hold their hands and we're kind to them. So here, we also need to support ourselves - it's NOT you being a "bad writer", it's just the fear not to "meet" the standards we set ourselves in our head, compared with something we admire; we need to hug ourselves and to be kinder to ourselves. Writing anything is hard. Writing something good is even harder, but the most important is not to forget that your creativity is yours, and every story once was a blank paper before someone took the courage to tell it and to share with others. Behind what we see as a result, there's always a lot of process - from the exciting highs to the painful falls, from genius ideas to being stuck in one paragraph for weeks, from the faucet of ideas to the complete sense of being lost. It's a difficult process, and yet, it's all part of it, so my advice could be summed up into one short idea: don't demand from yourself to fly on the waxed wings. Don't rush it, and take your time to construct the wings, and then, take a step into the skies - otherwise, too close to the sun, would melt the wings and the fall would be painful, like for Icarus.

Please remember that your stories don't have to "correspond" to any story you've read, even if it inspired you - let it cool down a bit. In this excited state, it's easy to start to do something while all your senses burst with emotions, but when the time passes and everything cools down, there's this gap between "high" and "low" phase, that literally just leads you to the abyss of the writing block.

Give yourself time, just write without thinking about anything, and give yourself a break, rather than pushing yourself.

I hope that this answer was more or less helpful T_T

I really didn't want to approach this like "step by step tutorial" because 1) who am I to teach anyone; 2) in my opinion, such topics are better for the "human" conversation rather than a list of advice which sounds more utilitarian

I wish you all the best, anon, and to be able to write the story YOU see and have in mind! Don't give up, and also, be kinder to yourself. Have a good one, and thank you for asking T^T

[yanderes-galore]

Oooo, can we get some romantic eridan yandere alphabet please??

Of course! He is such a pathetic troll at times-

Yandere Alphabet Found Here!

Yandere Alphabet - Eridan Ampora ♒️

Pairing: Matesprit ❤️

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Rebounding, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Violence, Jealousy, Murder, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship, Threats, Swearing, Kidnapping, Blood, Forced cuddling mentioned briefly, Restraints mentioned, Neglect as punishment, Isolation.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Oh... Eridan can be a handful as a yandere.

He's intense and always trying to coax out attention from his darling to fuel his obsession and his ego. He's talks big game, most likely to impress you. If you ignore him Eridan quickly becomes a whining mess and begs you to look his way.

He wants to be the center of your attention and will stop at nothing to achieve it. He'll murder, kidnap, force you into a tiny room with just you and him....

You an him are going to be Matesprits... he just knows it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Eridan is capable of getting bloody. He used to kill trolls with Vriska before things when downhill so he has some experience.

Most of the time his threats are a dramatic act to get you to listen, yet he follows through with some.

How's it feel, hm?

How's it feel that he's willing to cover himself in blood for you?

He's a Highblood, a Prince of Hope, a violet blooded troll!

Doesn't it feel good that he's so dedicated?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He at first treats you like it's an honor for him to take you back to his Hive. Like he didn't just kidnap you?

Other than that he struggles but tries to give you attention that he "thinks you need."

In reality he's utilizing your situation to get as close as he can with you. He wants to feel his Matesprit's warmth... won't you let him?

He'd mock you at first yet the moment you ignore him he's begging you to look at him.

Please look at him... he's your Matesprit! He wants you to hold and kiss him like Matesprits do-

So stop ignoring him.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Anything with physical contact. You could sleep alone or something one second then Eridan wants to hug your back....

He's a bit... touchstarved.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

You actually mean a lot to Eridan as his Matesprit. He's willing to drop his ego at times for you and be vulnerable. Sometimes he'll even be dramatic about something so you can "comfort" him.

He just likes it when you care....

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He'd scold you for your disobedience against a violet blood before threatening you to stop. He acts like he'll hurt you... he never will.

He needs you too much.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and he doesn't at all.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

If he snapped and actually hurt you.

It's by accident! He swears!

Fuck, fuck, fuck...!

Hopefully he hasn't hurt you too bad... but that is a lot of blood. Don't worry! He'll... patch you up!

He'll fix you... you're his Matesprit!

He'll make this right and apologize to you for being such a stuck up prick....

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Matespritship and all that comes with it! He wants you to praise and worship him... and he'll try to do the same with his ego.

He wants you to love him forever.

He wants to keep you to himself forever... he won't lose you like Feferi.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets jealous which makes him moody and snappy. He may even resort to violence if it gets bad enough.

Otherwise, he whines to you about the lack of attention until you begrudgingly give it to him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Lovestruck but tries to hide it. He follows you around to hopefully get your attention. He'd try to coax physical touch from you, like hugs or something more.

He tries to use manipulation around you to convince you to stay by him. He honestly occupies all of you time when he's around. Turn away? He'll move in front of you and continue trying to show you his flushed feelings.

He's an entitled brat at times with you, but on the other hand is also a whining child when you ignore him.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He is a bit blunt with it. He tries to tell you he has flushed red feelings for you with such confidence. He follows you for the chance of affection and throws a fit if he sees others trying to be part of your quadrants (if you have them?)

He's forceful at times but backs off if you snap at him.

If you're already "Matesprits" then he does whatever he can to kiss or hold you. He likes to be close and hates others looking at you.

I have a feeling he'd bite, too.

If he has to he'd kill others for you and present it like it's a gift. He'd gladly cover himself in a rainbow of blood if it meant he could keep you as his Matesprit forever.

Eridan thinks being a high blood caste is enough to impress you along with his bloodshed/abilities and is rather forceful with his flushed feelings.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He's softer with you, similar to Feferi.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Isolation and the neglect of basic needs. Need something? Ask him.

He wants his Matesprit to beg him to help them.

Then it shows you need him!

He may even shackle you to a wall or something.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

A lot if he kept you in his Hive. He wants to feel some sort of authority over his darling.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He tries to be patient... fails horrendously.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He had a hard time with Feferi, you leaving may actually break him.

If he could recover then it would take a lot of time. If he can't... there's a lot of denial, screaming, and perhaps even crying with bloody violence.

He becomes volatile.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Not entirely. It may flash in his mind when he sees you look so... unlike yourself-

But he wouldn't want to let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He feels like he's abandoned so he clings to the next person he can find, troll or human (if he ever meets one).

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Irritated but also feels like, well, shit.

Eridan is bad at comforting others but he can't just sit there and watch you suffer.

He'll slowly break his ego down before rushing over and pulling you into his embrace. He doesn't let go and just shifts closer when you struggle.

He tells you he loves you, how he's never been flushed for anyone more than you despite hoe he felt for Feferi.

He'd keep trying to tell you you're the perfect Matesprit for him and that he'll never leave you. He'll try to keep you happy! After all... he's your prince.

It all only makes you feel worse.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's dramatic. For the most part he's all bark no bite with you despite how much he threatens genocide and harm.

He... can't hurt you.

He'll start to harm others if they push him, however.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Acting like you genuinely love him. Praise him, maybe even throw yourself at him for affection. Eridan pauses before focusing on this new found red attention he's receiving.

Get him to drop his guard then try your escape. Although if he's keeping you at his Hive... I hope you can swim.

Yet even if you could, Eridan can swim faster.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He may threaten it but doesn't like the idea of going through with it, he's really just dramatic.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He prefers his darling to praise and worship him due to his caste. Although Eridan can get desperate to the point he'll drop the ego if it means it gets you to stay with him.

He isn't the best at relationships and doesn't want his darling to abandon him like Feferi.

He... compares his feelings a lot to how he felt with Feferi, actually-

He'd go to great lengths to keep you as his since the last time... his efforts didn't work.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Eridan pines for quite a bit. Except it's not silent... in the slightest. He is going to pester you about it heavily until you accept his red feelings for you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Well, if he felt it would guarantee Matespritship then maybe. He prefers to keep you yourself as much as he can though.

[eldritchelfwriter]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @sorceresssundries !

All right, normally I don't post actual WIP's because I like being super secretive about upcoming chapters. HOWEVER. I'm going to throw caution to the wind and give you a lil slice of an (unpublished and very early draft) Aylin/Isobel AU idea I came up with a few weeks ago. Is this a fic you'd be interested to read, if I continued it? Let me know in the comments.

~~~

“So that’s it? You’re just off?” Jeh’lar says, raising her eyebrows at Aylin.

Aylin shrugs her bag over her shoulder, rapidly running through her mind all the last-minute things she’d needed to tie up. There is no paperwork left unfinished, no duties left undone, no promises left unkept. Her slate is clean and she’s free to go.

“That’s right, I’m off,” Aylin says.

“You’re not even going to commiserate with your favourite sergeant, who has to see the Minth this morning?” Jeh’lar says with a hint of a whine.

Aylin purses her lips but says nothing. She does not approve of the nickname the rest of the unit have given their new squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Minthara, but saying something about it would earn her no friends. She has a suspicion Jeh’lar was the one who started the nickname in the first place.

“My commiserations, Jeh’lar,” she says with an ironic smile. “Although, have you considered it might be good news?”

Jeh’lar rolls her eyes. “It’s never good news with the Minth.”

The Lt Col rules the squadron with an iron fist. The discipline is not something Aylin minds, though her cold manner chafes with some of the others.

“You’ll be fine, Jeh’lar,” she says. “Just be on your best behaviour and do not, for gods sake, call her the Minth to her face.”

“Yeah,” Jeh’lar says sheepishly. “All right. I’m just stalling you, coz I’ll miss you, Moon Angel.”

“Of course you will,” Aylin says, clapping her on the shoulder. “Try not to blow anything up while I’m gone.”

She turns to leave.

“How long are you gone for?” Jeh’lar calls out to her.

“Three weeks,” Aylin calls back, without turning around.

All around her, the rest of the base is waking up and getting ready to get to back work. A part of her itches to join them and take her place amongst the hive, but the hive will just have to go on without her while she keeps her feet on the ground for the next three weeks.

She signs herself out, and then she is walking out of the base of the 53rd Fighter Wing with her bag slung over her shoulder, a brilliant yellow and orange sunrise reflecting on her aviators.

A familiar old Ford Focus is parked and waiting for her. And an even more familiar someone is waving out the driver’s window madly at her. “Aylin! Aylin!”

Someone else is yelling from the backseat window: “Oi you! Get in here will you!”

A smile spreads across Aylin’s face, the first genuine one in a long time. Lia opens the driver’s door and crosses the last few metres to wrap Aylin a hug.

“I always forget how bloody ripped you are! It’s like hugging a statue!”

“Hello to you too,” Aylin says, smiling. “My thanks for coming to get me.”

“Lia you are letting all the cold air in would you hurry up and both get in the car?” Lia’s kid brother Cal, who isn’t so much a kid brother any more, yells from the backseat.

“Shut it will you!” Lia yells back, in the manner of exasperated older siblings. “All right, get in then,” she says to Aylin, smiling.

Aylin takes the front passenger seat, slouching to fit in and bunching up her legs to try and get them into a comfortable position. She’s used to this problem with most cars, but it makes her miss the cockpit of her F-15 already. It may not be spacious exactly, but at least there is room for all of her.

She sighs and mentally makes herself put that aside – she is on leave. It’s time to have some fun.

“All right then, Aylin?” Cal says from the back, sounding genuinely pleased to see her. It’s been a long while since she saw Lia, but even longer since she’s seen Cal. Lia was her friend and neighbour before her mother moved them into a richer neighbourhood. But they managed to keep the friendship going. Lia is the closest and longest friend she’s ever had.

“I am excellent Cal, how are you keeping? Are you still at Gortash’s Emporium?” That’s the last she heard he was doing, anyway.

“Hell no! Lia, you haven’t told her?!”

“Why would I tell her your news, loser?” Lia retorts as she puts the car into gear and drives away. Aylin is tempted to look back and watch the base disappear behind her, but she doesn’t. Time to look forward, to this time they are about to have together.

“It’s not like your life is interesting,” Cal replies.

Aylin smiles, finding their exchange rather endearing. As an only child, she never got to experience sibling rivalries.

“Anyway,” Cal continues, addressing Aylin again. “You’re looking at the maître d’ at Stelmane’s!”

“Stelmane’s?” Aylin says in an undertone to Lia, not recognising the name.

“It’s a very fancy restaurant,” Lia whispers back, deliberately loud enough for Cal to hear.

“What? You haven’t heard of Stelmane’s?” Cal says, looking crestfallen.

“It is not the kind of thing that comes up while flying fighter jets, Cal,” Aylin says.

She listens to the siblings bicker all the way back to their house. Lia parks in the driveway, next to her mother’s four wheel drive, and Aylin can’t help but feel an ache of nostalgia as she flicks her eyes to the neighbouring house. She lived there, once, in a simpler time, before everything got complicated.

Someone else lives there now. Someone with a garish taste in lawn furniture.

She shakes her head to clear away the old memories, and joins Cal and Lia, slinging the bag over her shoulder and following them into the house. But walking into their house is like entering the past in itself. Everything is just the same as it always has been, from the green and yellow wallpaper to the threadbare sofas. It’s almost a relief that something can remain so unchanged, after all this time.

“Well there you are then,” Mrs Helliwell says, stretching on her tip toes to try and pull Aylin’s face down to kiss her cheek. The woman was almost a second mother to Aylin when she was a child. She is shorter than her children, and all the years of putting up with their arguing has added grey flecks to her short, curly hair. She hadn’t been wearing glasses last time Aylin saw her.

“You’re looking well, Mrs Helliwell,” Aylin says politely. “Is that a new cardigan? Most seasonal, and warm.”

Cal sniggers behind her.

“Oh, this old thing!” Mrs Helliwell says, brightening at the compliment. “And you’re looking tall, as always. And fit, goodness! I bet you could lift me right up!”

“Oh please do Aylin,” Cal says with a mischievous smile.

Aylin ignores him.

“See what I have to put up with?” Mrs Helliwell says, confidentially, with the long-suffering air of an old grievance. “I keep trying to get them to leave home and they keep on coming back and giving me cheek!”

“Come on,” Lia, who has been rolling her eyes at the whole exchange, pulls at her sleeve. “I know you’ve been wondering.”

Aylin drops her bag off in Lia’s room, where a camp bed has been set up for her for the night and follows Lia into the garage. Her eyes immediately find a misshapen object in the shadows, bookended by travel cases and old buckets of paint.

Lia switches the light on, just as Aylin pulls off the cover.

“We haven’t touched it,” Lia says, watching her. “Promise. Cal wanted to, but I nicked his Playstation controllers til he promised to leave it alone.”

Aylin hardly hears Lia, as she gazes upon the gleaming Harley Davidson, her pride and joy.

“Shall I leave you two alone?” Lia says, teasing. “You look like you’re in love.”

Aylin ignores her as she makes her inspection. Not a nick on the paintwork. She turns the key and switches on the ignition to check it’s still running. The familiar deep putter throbs from the motor, and for a moment, she dreams of riding away, the wind on her face, feeling as though she is doing a different type of flying altogether. She switches it off, with a vague sense of disappointment.

Now isn’t the time.

“Thank you, Lia,” she says with a little bow of her head. “I appreciate your taking such good care of her for me.”

“Of course Aylin. It’s practically family too. All right what do you want to do?”

~~~

(There's more. But that's all you get to see for now).