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naturesfirstgreenisgold · 1 year ago

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Camila and Billy Dunne Type Love

“…Give me all the platinum albums you want, all the drugs and all the Cuervo and all the fun times and successes and the fame and all of it, I would hand them all back to you, just as the cost of my memories with her….”

505- Artic Monkeys

Afterglow- Taylor Swift

All of Me- John Legend

The Archer- Taylor Swift

Aurora- Daisy Jones & The Six

betty-Taylor Swift

Blackbird- Remastered 2009- The Beatles

By Myself- Daisy Jones

Can’t Help Falling In Love- Elvis Presley

The Chain- 2004 Remastered- Fleetwood Mac

The Chain- Demo - Fleetwood Mac

The Chain- Live 1977 - Fleetwood Mac

champagne problems- Taylor Swift

Changes- Cam

Cornelia Street- Taylor Swift

cowboy like me- Taylor Swift

Daylight- Taylor Swift

Death By A Thousand Cuts- Taylor Swift

Do You Wanna Know?- Arctic Monkeys

Don’t- Ed Sheeran

Don’t Be Cruel- Elvis Presley

Don’t Stop- 2004 Remastered- Fleetwood Mac

Don’t Stop- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Don’t You (Forget About Me)- Simple Minds

Dream- 2004 Remastered- Fleetwood Mac

Dream- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Dreams- Take 2- Fleetwood Mac

False God- Taylor Swift

Flip The Switch- The Dunne Brothers

Forever- Remastered 2009- The Beach Boys

Gold Dust Woman- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Gold Dust Woman-Early Take; 2013 remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Gold Dust Woman- Live 1977; 2013 remaster- Fleetwood Mac

gold rush-Taylor Swift

Good Luck Charm- Elvis Presley

Go Your Own Way- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Go Your Own Way -Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

Go Your Own Way - Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Go Your Own Way- Live at Warner Brothers Studio In Burbank, CA 5/23/97- Fleetwood Mac

Graceland Too- Phoebe Bridgers

Have Love Will Travel- The Dunne Brothers

Heartbreak Hotel- Elvis Presley

Heaven- Bryan Adams

Hey! Baby- Bruce Channel

Hey Stephen (Taylor’s Version)-Taylor Swift

I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor- Arctic Monkeys

I Can See You(Taylors Version) (From The Vault)- Taylor Swift

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction- Mono Version- The Rolling Stones

I Don’t Want to Know- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

I Don’t Want to Know- Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

I Forgot That You Existed- Taylor Swift

invisible string- Taylor Swift

Iris- The Goo Goo Dolls

I Think He Knows- Taylor Swift

It’s Been a Long, Long Time (with Harry James & His Orchestra)- Harry James, Kitty Kallen

It’s Nice To Have A Friend- Taylor Swift

I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys

I Want To Hold Your Hand- Remastered 2009- The Beatles

Keep Me There- Instrumental; 2013 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Keep Me There- With Vocal; 2013 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Kill You To Try- Daisy Jones & The Six

the lakes-bonus track- Taylor Swift

Leather and Lace (With Don Henley)- Stevie Nicks

Let It Be- Remastered 2009- The Beatles

(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear- Elvis Presley

Let Me Down Easy- Demi Lovato, Daisy Jones & The Six

London Boy- Taylor Swift

Long Live- Taylor Swift

Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)- Daisy Jones & The Six

Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)- Maren Morris, Marcus Mumford, Daisy Jones & The Six

Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)-Single Version- Daisy Jones & The Six

Look Me In The Eye (feat. Daisy Jones)- Live from Diamond Head Festival- 1975- Daisy Jones, The Dunne Brothers

Love Me Tender- Elvis Presley

Lover- Taylor Swift

Lover- Recorded at Air Studios, London- Niall Horan, FLETCHER

Love Story- Taylor Swift

Love Story (Taylor’s Version)- Taylor Swift

The Man- Taylor Swift

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince- Taylor Swift

Monday Morning- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

More Than A Feeling- Boston

More Than Words- Extreme

Mr. Loverman- Ricky Montgomery

Mustang Sally- Wilson Pickett

Never Going Back Again- remaster 2004- Fleetwood Mac

Never Going Back Again- Acoustic Duet- Fleetwood Mac

Never Going Back Again- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

New Year’s Day- Taylor Swift

Nights in White Satin- The Moody Blues

November Rain- Guns N’ Roses

Oh Daddy- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Oh Daddy-Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

Rhiannon- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

The River (feat. Simone Jackson)- Live from Soldier Field-1977- Daisy Jones & The Six, Simone Jackson

Second Hand News- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Second Hand News- Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

She’s Always a Woman- Billy Joel

Silver Springs- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Slow Dancing- Aly & AJ

Songbird-Remaster 2004- Fleetwood Mac

Songbird-Demo - Fleetwood Mac

Songbird- Instrumental, Take 10- 4- Fleetwood Mac

Songbird-Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Star Treatment- Arctic Monkeys

Sweet Caroline- Neil Diamond

Sweet Child O’ Mine- Guns N’ Roses

Sweet Emotion- Aerosmith

Sweet Nothing- Taylor Swift

Time After Time- Cyndi Lauper

Timeless (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)- Taylor Swift

Tiny Dancer- Elton John

What A Time (feat. Niall Horan)- Julia Michaels, Niall Horan

When Emma Falls in Love (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)- Taylor Swift

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? - Arctic Monkeys

Wildflowers- Tom Petty

Wildflowers- Recorded at Spotify Studios NYC- Miley Cyrus

World Turning- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

You Make Loving Fun- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

You Need To Calm Down- Taylor Swift

You’re My Home- Billy Joel

You’re So Vain- Carly Simon

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise- Elvis Presley

Playlist Master list

#daisy jones and the six #camila dunne #billy dunne #the dunne brothers #daisy jones and the 6 #daisy jones show #taylor jenkins reid #playlist #spotify

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maeofthenoldor · 2 years ago

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Can I pls have fluffy and romantic Samfro (Sam/Frodo) where after they destroy the ring before frodo leaves at the end of return of the king?

for @micheleamidalajedi

I would like to let you know that I may have misread your meaning for the prompt, so i may be different from what you actually wanted. If that is so, then i apologize, and i hope this will make up for it :)

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The scratching of the ink quill lulled Frodo into an almost sense of peace. His hand smoothed the softly made parchment that smelled of pipe weed and honeycombs crinkling at the sides and firmly held when his pen made the quickest of movements. He had found the stacks of parchment earlier under many trunks of clutter after cleaning up after lobelia had moved out.

It was bilbo's signature, he recognized, with a small dot of ink well on the corner of the page where he must have spilled when creating the red book of westmarch. It felt meaningful now that came into his possession the only thing that was truly his uncles, no longer the ring, or even bag end would ground him anymore.

There was the sound of the door creaking open, and shuffling that only sounded like one person he knew. Frodo placed down his pen, the corners of his lips quirked up as he recognized the sound of those padded feet.

However, though it seemed that he was rotting in the darkness left from the ring there was one hobbit that still grounded him, that kept him tethered to this earth, with his unconditional love.

“Sam? That is you right?” “Of course m- frodo! Just-” there was a sound of a loud oomf and a muffled cursing. Sam rarely cursed, and he couldn't help but feel fear course through him.

“Are you alright dear?”

“I’m alright, I’m alright!” Sam called back, still in the other room. He could imagine him waving his broad hands around as an indication that he had everything under control.

“Damn it Sam, you're going to ruin the surprise!” he heard sam chided himself in a concealed whisper.

“Surprise? I think you've already given it away darling” Frodo laughed brightly, suddenly falling into a sunnier mood.

“You can't ruin a surprise if you don't see it I say! Or at least that is what my old gaffer said” Frodo only smiled and shook his head, and he pondered that the sound of an ink pen on paper wasn't the only thing that could calm his troubled mind. He waited patiently in his writing room, snickering as he heard the sound of shuffling as if his husband in the other room was doing a balancing act.

Then there was a knock on the door and Frodo let him in.

“Sam, I-” Frodo stood there, shocked. Sam gave him a shy grin as he held-if he counted seven bouquets of flowers in two of his hands, some even hanging dangerously at the edge of the vast pockets of his wool pants.

“Do you think it's good enough? I feel like I haven't done something nice for you in a while, and I thought, what if I got him some flowers? That will cheer him up!” Sam flushed as he said this, staring at his big toes. “I got them from Diamond, she was holding a market today….do you like them?”

Frodo felt his face was going to burn off from his wide smile. “Oh my sam! My beautiful sam!” he cried, grabbing his face and placing a passionate kiss on his lips. He soon realised this was a bad idea, for Sam tried to return the kiss, which caused one of the bouquets to nearly fall out of their place.

“The flowers!” Frodo noted, pulling back as Sam gave him a confused look. They both giggled, and he helped Sam place all the variety of flowers in different vases around the writing room.

“You didn't have to do this, you know.” Frodo said as Sam placed the last vase near the windowsill.

“Did you not like it?” he frowned with a furrowed brow.

“No! It's far from that, it's just-I don't know” Frodo sighed, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. He didn't have to see to know that Sam's face softened.

“Do you not think you deserve it? When you deserve it most out of everyone in hobbiton, or I dare say even the shire!”

Frodo groaned in disagreement, but Sam just took his face and cradled it in his worn hands.

“I love you mr frodo. Let me get you what you deserve, even if its just a few flowers.”

“Just a few flowers? You got me seven bouquets!”

“Not enough flowers I say”

Frodo nuzzled further into his chest. “Oh Samwise, what did I do to deserve you?” “Everything, sir” he breathed into his hair, and Frodo couldn't help but laugh. Only Sam, the sweetest hobbit would be the one to keep him here. Grounded.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

If you want a writing requests, look at my pinned post here

#Samfro #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #my writing #writing requests #prompts #tolkien #lotr

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augustinaleathers · 11 months ago

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What Sets Buccellati's Pieces Apart?

Remaining true to Mario's innovative manufacturing techniques, Buccellati's craftsmanship showcases elaborate gold embellishments, textures influenced by Venetian lace, Etruscan motifs, and designs inspired by the beauty of flowers, insects, and animals found in nature. The Estate Buccellati Jewelry is crafted using the finest precious metals and gemstones available.

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moddedmoor · 1 year ago

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💎 If they wear jewelry, what’s a piece they wear every day?

I've got a lot of jewelry so bear with me here.

I've got gauges in (size 0) one side is a quartz/moonstone (not the evo stone) looking one and for the other i've managed to have a guy i know custom fit my keystone into a gauge. so they're that.

on my right ear i have two lobe loops with two upper helix balls. all are gunmetal.

on my left i have mirroring lobe loops with two helix with one a loop and the other a ball. still gunmetal. oh. almost forgot that there's also an industrial

i also have two facial piercings. a simple honeycomb stud on the right side of my nose and a labret. i also have a fake piercing on my left that's a simple black ball. oh. and a labret. that one's just a simple gunmetal ball.

and that's it for piercings.

daily put ons are two necklaces, both black rope with a pendant. the first one is blue in a diamond shape and the second one is a large green stone that's oval shaped.

then i have three rings. on my right thumb it's a small sun with a sword behind it. it's cool. the next two are simple bands.

one used to be silver in color but has faded copper with little stars and moons along it. that's on my right middle

the last one is a dark wood one with a simple stripe of blue resin running through it. this one's on my left index.

and. that's all.

#pokemon irl #pokemon #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #ask game #((i own the first two rings plus have a labret and nose piercing #((they just have all the piercings i want <3

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enishkagold · 1 year ago

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Enishka - the soul of gold || 18k Rosegold Ring

This enchanting 18k Rosegold ring showcases a unique honeycomb pattern, adorned with sparkling diamonds, creating a statement piece that is both bold and sophisticated.

#family jewels legacy challenge #diamond #jewellery #jewelry

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synajewel · 2 years ago

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Cosmic Earrings

Elevate your style with our exquisite Cosmic Earrings. Our collection at SYNAJEWELS offers a variety of unique and mesmerizing designs that capture the essence of the cosmos. Crafted with high-quality materials, our Cosmic Earrings are the perfect statement piece for any occasion. Shop now and add a touch of magic to your wardrobe.

Call us at 201-336-4132 Address: 2125 Center Ave #107, Fort Lee, NJ 07024, United States

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watchilove · 2 years ago

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Omega Speedmaster Super Racing The first timepiece to include OMEGA’s fine-tune Spirate™ System is the Speedmaster Super Racing in stainless steel. A visual tribute to OMEGA’s 2013 anti-magnetic masterpiece which offers a clear view of the new mechanism through the sapphire crystal caseback. Omega Speedmaster Super Racing Circling the dial is the distinctive racing style minute-track and a black ceramic bezel ring with the famous tachymeter scale in new yellow “grand feu” enamel. This bold yellow shade, featured on the Seamaster Aqua Terra >15’000 GAUSS of 2013, is also used on the gradient chronograph hand and striped small seconds hand at 9 o’clock. The watch’s 60 minute/12 hour recorder, directly opposite at 3 o’clock, also serves as a second time zone. The honeycomb pattern of the dial references a concept timepiece on display at OMEGA Museum which survived extreme magnetic fields of 160,000 GAUSS. Providing the power is OMEGA’s state-of-the-art Co-Axial Master Chronometer 9920, a perfect amalgamation of the many milestones on the road to Spirate™ and certified at the industry’s highest level by the Swiss Federal Institute of Metrology (METAS). As always, proof of this certification is provided by a distinctive red METAS card, which in this case includes confirmation of the 0/+2 seconds a day precision made possible at large scale by the industrialisation of the Spirate™ System. Omega Speedmaster Super Racing The diamond-polished and bevelled black arrowhead indexes are filled with a new and exclusive Super-LumiNova which emits a surprising yellow glow. This colour code extends to the Speedmaster and Super Racing wording on the dial. Omega Speedmaster Super Racing At 6 o’clock there’s a stylish and regular reminder of the >15’000 GAUSS 10 year anniversary: a “10” in Speedmaster logo font, which appears once a month in the watch’s date window. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn6a2DzLsr-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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motionoftruth · 6 years ago

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(via Rose Cut Diamond Ring 14K Gold Diamond Ring Honey Bee Mine)

by RevolutionBA

#jewelry #ring #gold #diamond #honeycomb

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gemville · 2 years ago

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34.20 CTW Colored Diamond and 18k Gold Ring From Golkonda Jewelry's Honeycomb Collection

Source: Pinterest

#golkonda #golkonda jewelry #colored diamond #diamonds #18k gold #colored diamond ring #colored diamond jewelry #high jewelry #luxury jewelry #fine jewelry

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

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Hello, I have been looking at your content and I must say that I really like the way you write and I hope you are doing well.I don't know if your applications are open now but I want to give you an idea, how would the yanders react if their beloved has depressive periods and low self-esteem?It may be a bit of an anguish at first but I would like how they would react, use it on purpose or go soft on their beloved.

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: depression, self-harm, abuse, manipulation, abuse, profanity, amnesia, anxiety, panic-attacks, arson, bipolar disorder, blood, death threats, eating disorder, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mental illness, mind control, paranoia, noncon, dubcon, starvation, suicidal ideation, trauma

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

MELANCHOLIA –

She’s always biting her tongue, the inside of her cheek, her lip. So much so, he doesn’t even know what her lip normally looks like without it being bloated and swollen and red from having her teeth sink into to it. He’s okay with her chosen silence as long as she answers when she’s spoken to, which she does, lacking the will to refuse, knowing it will only cost her valuable energy, energy she needs in case Bakugo decides he wants to rip the breath from her lungs while he hunches over her, his hips snapping into her again and again, ramming at a pace so rough she both dreads it and welcomes it, for on the one hand it’s exhausting and she always wakes up with aches in the morning, yet on the other hand he makes her appreciate breathing which is always a nice reminder when she often times wonders what tranquility would be found in not breathing whatsoever.

He doesn’t want to confront her about it, sensing how she might not enjoy confrontation all that much, and not really wanting the whole ordeal to result in making her cry at the mere sound of his voice. He won’t alter the volume or the roughness of his tone, no matter how many times she cringes at how loud he’s being, but he does try being gentle, at least with his criticism. He showers her in compliments, which is a huge contrast to how he would usually handle fixing things. But, he finds using softer methods benefit him as well, loving the blush that adorns her face each time he does so, his own confidence probably boosting more so than hers.

He does nice things, not really knowing what or which way to help. He doesn’t make her do any chores, ignoring the nagging feeling that keeping her busy would probably help more so than having her sit and look cute all day, but… he’s afraid of admitting it, but… he quite likes taking care of her. He quite likes hugging her throughout the night, feeling her small tremoring sobs against him while stroking her back. He likes comforting her on those same nights where she wakes abruptly from some nightmare, stroking glossy diamond tears away from her cheeks, loving her bloated lips and that cute red wet irritation flushed on her nose and cheeks.

The only times he gets upset with her is when she refuses to eat. He tries so hard to make things she might like, but it’s scarce he sees her taking more than a few bites, if she makes a move to eat at all. He doesn’t want to make her cry, despite it being a constant hobby of hers, he doesn’t want to be the reason to her crying, but… he can’t have her starving. He finds the fear-tactic surprisingly effective on someone who spends most their time fantasizing about death. A few sparks in his palms has her all but quaking, scared half-way into catatonia or even comatose, so much so he has to pull her into his lap and spoon-feed her. Not that he minds that either, he comes to enjoy it quite a lot actually. How her small frame melts so perfectly against his chest, legs swung over his lap, head on his shoulder, remnants of her fear-stricken cries still evident as small spontaneous jolts run through her, being slowly comforted away with the same hand that caused the trouble in the first place.

DABI - TODORKI TOUYA

ANXIETY –

He couldn’t be happier with his little ball of blue wrapped up in soft-tinted crushed dreams with a heart made of honeycombs and dandelion-fluff. Whereas his misfortunate lack of happiness stems from a place of violence, where violence breeds violence, she’s nothing but a tender trauma. Such a soft despair, such a sweet despair, such perfection found in something so devastating. It’s artwork really. How she can cry herself to sleep, trapped in his arms, feeling as though she’s dying, yet wake up the next morning all velvety and soft in his arms, her heart finding comfort in what her mind rejects, what her mind fears.

He tries being a source of comfort for the most part, but teasing and haunting and poking fun at her is such a delicious past-time he cannot simply just refrain from. He’ll be a real villain about it at times. Having her as a complete blubbering pathetic hiccupping mess, poking fun at her crybaby-face as he licks the tears from her cheeks and gorges himself in her panic, his fingers dancing small patterns on her stomach as she wiggles beneath him.

She used to be so scared of him. So skittish and paralyzed, cold-sweating and eyes constantly leaking he had to imagine what her eyes would look like without being rimmed with red. She used to shiver and shake and quake and reel in on herself, curl up until her limbs ached from how small she was trying to make herself become, backed up into the corner beneath his shadow, his leather-boots looking like the onset of everything horrific as she coward in front of them. But wild untrusting childlike beings such as her is quick in nature to tether themselves to the first or only source of light. And though the transition was slow, her anxiety soon shifted from being directed at him and soon for him instead.

It was too easy, and it benefitted him so undeservingly as well it was cruel. How he simply took all those fears of hers, all those fears for everything residing in the new foreign room she’d been taken captive in, manipulating them into becoming paranoia for everything found outside the bedroom door instead. He went from being the source of her dread, of her panic, of her misery, of her pitter-patter heart and shattering teeth to her savior. Soothing her in her frenzied quakes as she spluttered on sobs containing what hellish monsters and dangers found outside, begging him to be careful, to come back to her, to stay.

She will hug him close throughout the night, hanging almost like a noose around his neck when he needs to leave in the mornings, tracing his scars with a stream of endless worried thoughts blubbering in her groggy voice. And he’ll humor her worry and tame the oncoming panic-attacks by giving her a little light-show of blue flames in his palm, words of his own coming to assure her how nothing will ever happen to him and how he will never let anything ever happen to her, assuring however many times he has the time for.

She’s too cute it’s unfair. Unfair that small creatures like her exist without anything to protect them from hungry wolves like him. And though he was never the type to fantasize about clingy things, he has to admit… coming home to someone who lunches at him in the most secure yet clumsy and desperate embrace, he feels as though that feeling of coming home is all he’ll ever need in the world, that she’s all he’ll ever need.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

INSOMNIA –

It’s nice. He knows it shouldn’t be the word he describes it with, but… that’s what it is. It’s nice. It’s nice to stay up with someone who expels the same type of energy as him, and not to mention the same amount of energy as him, or… lack of thereof. It’s nice living off of fumes together. It’s nice slipping to and from consciousness and how it almost turns into a game of who can survive the longest before collapsing, with the other shortly following, too tired to even bask in their victory.

It’s nice irritating over the same sharp sounds that attack their sensitive ears, not at all like the familiar sound of soft clicks of the controller in their hands. It’s nice communicating almost purely through mellow moans and groans and croaks, always understanding what the other is emitting despite it being but shapeless sounds.

It’s nice finding agreement in how the lights should always stay off, how it’s turned into some religious rule never meant to be crossed. It’s nice annoying over the same crisp bright light of the sun that violate their eyes those times they forget to shut the blinds before passing out after having counted stars and eating in the dead silence of night like nocturnal beings ignoring the light of day as though it were the plague. It’s nice how they can both find comfort in the glow of the moonlight or computer screen, leaching off of the energy like flies.

He’s found kinship in her presence, and despite it merely being himself and her in the darkness of his room, with flying specs of dust decorating the air and their computers the only windows to the world beyond their four walls, he feels as though the whole universe is looking at him when the softness of her glinting, beaming, sparkling eyes set their gaze and lock with his. It’s strange, but he always found angel-bright smiles and supersonic eyes to be too intrusive and annoying and scary to stand before, whereas her sunken dark eyes, ringed with shades of lilac contrasting her otherwise pale porcelain skin, kept almost albino in the darkness of his room… she couldn’t be more perfect.

Come to think of it, it’s perfection. Her in all her sleep-deprived glory, all her drowsy silliness, her sloppy harsh movements, tripping and stumbling with her droopy-eyes, in her soft giggling fits, where she’ll catch her stupidity just a moment too late and roll around on the bed, trying to shrug off Tomura’s teasing judgement as he pokes fun at her idiocy. Giving up on forming complete sentences as she almost always ends up toppling over her own words, settling for whining or sighing as she turns her head to bury it in his chest.

Utter perfection. Never bothering to get dressed, walking about like a little tease in only underwear and Tomura’s ill-fitted hoodie, hair pulled up into a messy-bun too messy, always defeating the purpose of keeping her hair from out of her face. Her unstable movements, disconnected to the ground as though she’s floating. Too grabbable and easily defeated in her weariness when being pulled into his lap, simply humming and moaning in response as he plants soft kisses down her neck, his fingers coming to destroy whatever’s in the way of him and her body.

HITOSHI SHINSO

HYPERSOMNIA –

She sleeps so soundly, like a little couch-kitten. All soft and cute, playing in her dreams. She’ll sleep whole entire days, only opening her eyes in small flutters every now and again and moaning ever so softly once he wakes her, though quickly scrunching her nose and twisting to fall asleep again. Her drowsiness rendering her pride invalid, causing her to pull at him to better comfort herself against his body, whining when he shifts, his warm presence leaving the bed when he needs to go to work. Her little unconscious protest making his heart twist in his chest, tempted to stay in bed with her all day long, yet comforting himself with the fact that he’ll probably come home to find her in the exact same position.

She’s so cute. She’ll curl and stretch, resting anywhere she finds comfortable: in bed, in the sofa, in the armchair, on his chest, his shoulder, his lap. Adorable with her little snores, all knotted up, remnants of her dreams spilling out from her sleep and coming to life in her limbs as she kicks and shakes her head, delving further into the pillow and twisting intricately in about the blanket. Eyelashes fluttering, eyes skittering beneath her puffy eyelids, caught up in whatever hurricane her mind has conjured up.

She seemed unfazed once she woke up in his room for the first time, and even then, she only gave him enough time to explain himself before nodding with heavy eyelids, laying her drowsy head back on the pillow. The situation dawning on her gradually over the first month, and if whether she was startled or angry, he couldn’t tell. If anything, sept for sleepy, he’d say she seemed confused, but alongside the confusion was the look that told him she couldn’t find the energy in herself to think too much about it without her fuzzy head hurting. Settling for eating breakfast with him in the mornings, and even thanking him on those occasion where she would forget the circumstances that led her to live there.

She doesn’t struggle when he pulls her limp body close to his own in the dead of night after he’s done for the day. He’s only mildly concerned, but it’s not his affection that shakes her from her sleep. He’s a selfish person, and he’s not one to hide those ugly aspects of himself. He’s selfish, greedy, controlling. He has to use his quirk on her sometimes… often times. Though she’s cute when she’s sleeping, he wants to do more than just watch her. He wants words, conversation, he wants to know what’s going on in that dark dreary head of hers, he wants to know what eerie things she’s been dreaming about, where she escapes to when her eyes slide close.

What more: he wants those eyes on him, those puffy, sleepy beautiful doe-eyes. He wants her to pay attention as he touches her skin and not simply to moan in response to it, he wants her to hang onto every single moment his skin touches hers. Telling her to focus reaches a long way. Those otherwise sleepy doe-eyes widening in such moon-bright curiosity, slaving at the hands of his quirk. Her otherwise limp and soft body shaking under his overwhelming touch, goosebumps springing to the surface under his tongue, a wicked glint evident in his lilac eyes.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

BIPOLAR –

She’s fragile on most days. Whether that fragility is in the shape of a daisy or a bomb is impossible to say until she either falls apart or blows up. It’s all rather uncertain, sporadic, spontaneous, where he’s given only a few signs where which he can predict what state of mind she’s in and how stable that structure is.

Most things depend on sleep, and upholding a balanced sleep-pattern has become one of the most important things in Keigo’s life after having taken his little darling. But, she manages to slip past his schedules more times than he would like to admit. When she refuses to go to sleep, his mind drifts to all the fun things they can do if they weren’t sleeping, and when she’s sound asleep and drowsing far beyond what time she should have woken up, he can’t find it in himself to wake her, not when he is the reason as to why she was so spent and sore and exhausted from the events and methods he used to make her fall asleep in the first place.

On little sleep one of two things can happen. She can either have the energy of a hummingbird or be tired to the point she almost looks sickly. On her lack-of-sleep-high she’s confident, cocky more so than Keigo, where she’ll test her luck on how far Keigo’s willing to bend his rules when she misbehaves, calling him all types of names, laughing in his face when he snaps and cackling even harder even madder when he decides to punish her, as though it’s all a game to quench her boredom.

With the absence of sleep causing her exhaustion she becomes irritated, seething with boiling rage, red in annoyance, whatever energy she has left focused on making her discomfort known as she scowls at him each time he smiles too loudly, but being too drained to physically act on her frustration or to even make up a snide comment without evoking a headache, left to simply snarl. He thinks it’s cute, where he knows well enough that if he pushes her limits too far she might just break. Break, and therefore let him gather her up into his arms and hush and tut at her to stop crying while he strokes her back, feeling her tremble with unparalleled frustration weighing down on her shoulders.

Then there are the days she sleeps too much. The same options are present here too. She’s either too energetic or too well rested. Either black or white. No grey. But with too much sleep she isn’t ever hostile, but still wild. Wild and enthusiastic and self-destructive and prop-full of ideas and insane in her passion. She’ll be unable to focus on anything, she’ll forget things seconds after they’ve been said or done, but… she’ll laugh and she’ll smile, and it won’t be one of those haughty nasty smiles she gives him when she’s feeling spiteful, but genuine in its playfulness or even bliss.

Then on other days sleeping half the day only results in her being even more drowsed out, yet accompanying her exhaustion isn’t irritation, but soft-tinted melancholia, where all she does is stay wrapped up in her blanket, quiet and still, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she focusses on how hollow her chest is, as though caving in on itself, where she’ll fall all limp and snuggly in Keigo’s embrace, humming appreciatively as he wraps her up in his wings. All the while a treacherous smile of satisfaction on his face.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

DESPOND –

When Izuku chose his darling it was done without compromise, without fault, it was done with perfection. Meaning, he fell for all of her, invested in all of her, determined to preserve all of her. Even her inexplainable unfounded absurd plethora of self-doubt that make her delirious and hopeless with anxiety and guilt. He let himself fall hungrily in love with her little terror-wide heart. He fell viciously in love with how desperate in need of him to come help ground her she was.

It was as though she’s made for him, he would argue. It was as though he’s made for her. Some breeds of people are just too vulnerable to take proper care of themselves. Some people just aren’t meant to take care of themselves. Whereas others are made to help, other people need to help.

Emotions are abstract fundamental tools meant to be used. Lesser minds might look down on his methods, yet Izuku came to understand quite early in life that things such as morals are chains meant to keep you from achieving your goal. He has no quarrels with using and abusing those tools presented to him, where her irrational feelings of doubt, hopelessness and worthlessness are a delicious opportunity to achieve his goal. Besides, her emotions are too easily abused and give such great unshakable responses, and even though he doesn’t want to tamper too much with her instability… they’re just too in-reach for him to ignore, too tempting for him to stay away.

The feeling of responsibility sits like an extra organ inside him, where his toes curl each time he sees her large doe-eyes look at him as though he were the sun, as though her whole life revolves around him. She’s just so dependent on him, so in need of his guidance and advise and praise, where he’s afraid she might just drown in her own guilt if she senses she’s displeased him. She makes sure she wears what he likes, has her hair the way he likes, letting him play with her like putty in his hands if he asks it of her. How can he be expected to not exploit what is so clearly offered?

Besides, he spoils her as well. He returns the favor so to speak, even though he knows she has given herself no choice but to worship him in her mindset of inadequacy. She’s so sweet he nearly feels undeserving, because she’ll blush so preciously when he compliments her, bashful and adorable and too good to be true, he wonders how such a creature can ever feel like less. He adores her, yet that doesn’t stop him from finding such satisfying bliss in the fact that he’s infinitely stronger and faster and not to mention smarter. Whereas she’s gullible and too eager to please, another attributing factor as to why he loves her, despite it is also being the cause of her demise, or maybe even because of it

The truth is she’s lucky that she belongs to him. Lucky that he won’t ever let anything happen to her, no matter if she’s the source of her own harm. She’s lucky to have him to anchor herself to as so to avoid floating away in her hopelessness. This is safer for her. Despite him sticking his bloodstained inky fingers and twisting her heart in his deadlock of a fist, she’s safe, safer than she could or would ever be on her own.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

AMNESIA –

It’s cute. He won’t deny that it’s cute, because it is. It’s adorable and unbelievable and annoying all the same. She’ll forget the rules, she’ll wander too far from her confines, not greeting him at the door, not kissing him on que, leave questions unanswered despite him having told her to always answer him when she’s spoken to, all things he feels he’s made blatantly clear through threats and countless reminders. But, not only will she forget his rules, but basic living necessities, she’ll forget to eat and drink, forget to get dressed, forget where she is.

She’ll say the strangest things sometimes. Mild and mellow passionate thoughts regarding the clouds and stars and moon and gods and how pretty his snake-eyes are, like great big lakes of molten gold. It’s strange but he finds such great comfort in her little philosophical blubbering, her soft voice kissing his ears like gospel. It’s a tender type of relief or resolution found in listening to nonsense as opposed to the serious matters he has to deal with in his position in the underworld, her view of the world somehow painting everything, even the ugly and the dangerous, in beauty.

Sometimes she’ll drift a bit too far away though. She’ll daydream more than sleep, absentminded when he’s speaking to her, unable to focus on him or anything for more than a few minutes at best. All dizzy and fuzzy, as though she’s just woken from some dream or as if she’s always dreaming. Irritation festers in his chest when she doesn’t answer, but as she turns her head, expression all soft and oblivious, his chest caving in at the sight of those doe-eyes, all anger simmering into nothing, rendering his annoyance nonexistent, replaced by a sense of hopeless forgiveness and somehow appreciation.

When it comes to her for once actually remembering what she’s supposed to do she’ll weigh each task as though one wrong decision would cost her life. Greeting him at the door in nothing but underwear, already having failed at picking out an outfit and resorting to wearing the lingerie Kai picked and laid out for her on the bed in the morning. The simple task suddenly becoming a battle where she’ll spend much too much time deciding whether to take his jacket first or give him a kiss or welcome him home. Too many decisions with too faulty statistics and unsure outcomes she ends up merely standing there doing nothing but hold her head in her hands and whimper slightly at all the noise that suddenly crowded her head, tears already threatening to fall as she stands before him, all guilt-ridden and trembling.

He can be patient as long as he knows she isn’t disobeying him on purpose, especially when he sees how guilty and how terribly sorry she is each time she fails on acting out simple tasks such as those he gives her. She’ll cry and apologize for the mere act of breathing on some days where she’s extra fragile, where she seeks nothing but his praise, his comfort, his hand stroking through her hair as she sleeps restlessly in her sobs on his chest, unaware of the mild smile of satisfaction and endearment displayed on his face.

TODOROKI SHOTO

SELF-CONSCIOUS -

She’s always hiding. Like a little mouse, she’s always squeaking and squealing and hiding. Hiding her face, burying it in the pillow when he compliments her gorgeous eyes, begging him to stop, small timid hands pushing ever so slightly at him. Hiding her chest, her nipples, when he admires them, his hands playing with the soft and supple flesh, whimpering as she tries to twist away. Her knees trying their best to wrench shut, to hide and protect what sensitivity find between them from Shoto’s hungry fingers and tongue.

She’s always hiding… but he likes to hunt anyway. If she drapes herself in pitch-black hoodies he’ll gladly rip them off, or scorch them off and expose her delicious artful body. If she refuses to leave the bed he’ll gladly attack her where she’s sleeping. She’s always hiding, but she quickly comes to understand that there will be no hiding from him.

He doesn’t understand why she would ever want to hide divinity, and therefor doesn’t respect the wish. Having made it his mission to expose every little piece of her, licking up long lines of bumpy purple and white scars, sucking and biting at those pointy cherry nipples strutting at the coolness of his breath, kissing those plump lips of hers despite her cringing to cover herself up in thousand layers of clothes, dark clothes, where only the very least of her skin is remaining on display. He won’t have it.

He has to tie her up on most occasions where she’s too difficult and shy to listen and let him play with her beauty. He’ll have to tie her up like a starfish on the bed, limbs spread in each direction, scars running along them, quite like the ones he receives in battle, only precise and matching and purposeful, his hands coming to touch them in reverence, worshipping every little altercation she’s added to her skin, further pushing its ever-changing perfection, watching as she hopelessly struggles to hide herself, yet the both of them knowing how she’s fully his.

He can’t allow her hurting herself anymore though, not with the fear that she one day might slip up and kill herself just a little bit too much, but he’s happy to help her through the tools of fire and ice. Frostbite flowers look even more as though they belong on her body, as well as blotches of burns, his markings, his teeth. He’ll never forget the moan he received on his first indulgence branding her body with his elements, how she purred in gratitude, small blissful squeals and mewls following, further egging him on.

Once she grew more comfortable with his hands and his stare… or rather… once the need for his hands outgrew her discomfort, she became somewhat addicted. And now, she can be wild in her cravings on some days, demanding it of him, threatening him, fighting him. She’ll bite and claw, begging for him to retaliate, longing for him to push her into the bedsheets and teach her what it’s like to feel alive by teasing her with the promise of death.

Without him she’s left to pick at scabs, counting the seconds until his return. She’ll pull at her hair until her scalp is screaming. She’ll ball her fists, creating those blood-red crescent moons in her palms, biting her nails until they bleed and then some. Then bask in relief upon his return.

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

A Lesson in Beekeeping

Claude x reader

Warning: bee sex discussed. Honeybees. Bee Stings. The noble worker bee giving up her life for the hive

Today is a free day. Free from classes and studying and homework. Everyone needs time to themselves to relax and do what interests them. You’re deep in the woods near the monastery, collecting plants, seeds, flowers and mushrooms. Your restful time alone is interrupted as Claude, your house leader, has found you.

“What’s a little girl like you doing out in the dark spooky woods? You better watch out for big bad wolves!” Claude laughs.

“I’m not Lys. This isn’t frightening. The higher altitude and specific climate divergence varies greatly from what I am accustomed to, as well as the flora has specific diverse qualities that interest me.”

“No need to go all Linhardt on me.” The dark haired male backpedals.

“New place, new plants.” You translate.

“You’re not going to complain about being called little?” Claude elbows you, digging for a reaction.

You roll your eyes. “My stature is undisputed. 95% of the student body is taller than I am. As time passes, the percentage pullulates.”

“So now what am I going to pick on?” Claude shrugs.

“Your pants, most likely, you’re standing amongst cockleburs.” You grin.

Pulling your notebook out, you scribble something on a page, stuffing a few leaves in the book before you return it to your pocket.

The next day, Professor Byleth makes an announcement to the class. “The kitchen is in need of anyone who is familiar with collecting honey or bees.” She continues to read the note and frowns. “Honeybuns no longer available in the kitchen.” She looks panicked.

Dorothea, recently recruited into the house raises her hand. “Ferdinand is much like a bee, send him!”

You raise your hand. “I will assist.” You do not mind missing the afternoon class for weapons training and maintenance, since you are a mage, it does not interest you.

“I’ll give it a shot.” Claude throws his hat into the ring.

“You guys are creepy, wanting to play with bugs.” Lysithia snipes.

Class ends and everyone heads out for lunch. Byleth thanks you and Claude for saving the honey buns.

You finish lunch quickly and head to the back entrance of the Kitchens. Martha greets you and hands you a few buckets and sharp knives. They don’t really have the beekeeping equipment, the keeper left suddenly due to his mother becoming ill.

“Looks like we’re going to have to improvise.” You groan.

“To be honest, I’ve never done this before. Always willing to learn something new though.” Claude confesses.

You frown at him. “You’re just curious because their stings contain poison.”

Claude looks away.

You run over to the Golden Deer lunch table. “Professor, we’re going to need assistance gathering equipment together. I’m going to leave the buckets and knives here, if anyone can add to it bring it here. Dorothea, do you have any stiff wide brimmed hats? I need 2. Leonie, can you bring some scissors, needles, thread and thick twine string or cord. Going to need about 3-4 meters. Does anyone have any thick extra leather gloves? Especially if you don’t want them back because they are going to get messy. A pair for me and a pair for Claude. We also need 2 white long sleeved shirts. Ignatz, if you have a spare that would be wonderful. Need one for Claude too unless he has one.”

You run off to the marketplace to find some dark black diamond netting with the smallest holes you could find. Back at the dining hall the Deer have done the deed and all needed items are acquired.

You create a beekeepers veil from the hat, stitching the netting around the brim of each hat. Wearing the long sleeved shirt you put the hat on, then tie the hat itself on with it’s ribbons so it won’t fall off when you bend over. Then you tie the string over the veil around your neck so that the string goes under the collar of the shirt. Putting on the gloves, you stuff the cuffs inside then wrap the open end of the gloves shut with gauze, pinning then tying it with more string. At the bottom of your pants you tie them around your ankles keeping them close over your socks. You take extra string and wrap them around bundles of semi dry weeds you pilfered from the compost pile.

You are ready for the battle of the bees.

“How do you know all this?” Claude asks as you head out around the walls of the monastery. The bees are located around the back by the fruit trees.

“Grew up a farmer. Brothers wrangled the larger animals. I was stuck with smaller ones. Chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits and bees. Need bees to pollenate fruit trees.”

“An expert on the birds and bees. Got it!” Claude grins.

“Have you ever been stung by a honeybee?” You ask him.

“Dunno. I’ve been stung by all kinds of bees. Black ones, yellow and black, black and white.” He shrugs.

“Claude! Just like every four legged animal is not just a horse, every flying insect is not necessarily a bee!!” You chastise him. “Honeybees are mostly non-threatening unless you are invading their home or disturb them while they gather nectar.” You stop at a nearby flowering bush. “This bush has all sorts of insects on it.” You take the sharp knife and point at a few different ones identifying them. Bluebottle fly, paper wasp, hornet, sweat bee, carpenter bee, bumblebee and finally honey bee.

“Most of the stinging insects have a sharp, smooth, pointy stinger, like Felix’s sword. The honeybee has a barb at the end of its stinger. Think of Byleth’s fishhook. The smooth stingers, can sting multiple times each putting a little poison in. Honeybees, when they sting, their barb gets stuck in your skin, and it rips off their stinger. When the stinger rips out, the poison sac comes along with it. The bee then dies, they are literally giving their life protecting their homes. Never use your fingers to grab the stinger to remove it, you are squeezing more poison into you. Scrape it off with the blade of the knife.”

“Good to know.” The archer nods.

“We are headed out to work on the bees. As soon as you notice you have been stung, we move away and make sure it won’t kill you. If it itches or swells a little, that’s normal. If you swell up to 10 times your normal size and stop breathing, you’re allergic.” You warn.

“Understood.” The Deer’s leaderman nods.

At the middle of the orchards are several different tables and boxes. You put the knife and bucket on the table. Inside of the boxes, with the front completely open, are what look like upside down baskets. They have a small hole in front that the bees are going in and out of at a fast rate.

“First we need smoke.” You instruct, taking out a bundle of semi dry weeds, lighting the ends with fire magic until most of the ends catch fire, then you blow the fire out. The weeds give off lots of smoke.

You tell Claude to wait by the table. You quickly go in front of a hive and lift it, pulling it out of the boxlike shelf and placing it on the table. You lift the hive pulling it to the edge of the table and let the smoke go into the hive for 30 seconds or so.

“Smoke gives the bees something to do besides chase you. When bees smell smoke, they think there is a fire in the hive. That means they have to grab what they can and get ready to leave. The bees are filling their stomachs as fast as they can and will fly off when the heat is too much. Another benefit of this is the bees will have a full stomach and are less likely to sting you. The bee has to curl its body to the front of it to sting you, like bending itself into a letter C. That is much harder to do when its gut is full, less likely to sting.”

You look underneath again There are several rows of beeswax combs hanging down with bees crawling all over them many bees face first into cells eating. You squat down low so you can look up into the hive. The white beeswax comb on the outside looks like it is empty, the next section of comb looks like it has some nectar or honey in it, and the one after that looks like it is fat with honey that has been covered over by the bees.

“Ok. This is a skep, we try to get bees to build their hives in them. It is thick rope that is bound together in sort of a bell or upside down pot shape. The bees start at the top and attach wax to the top, then create these combs. The combs are built hexagonal cells on each side at the tiniest bit of an angle, facing up in a wide V shape. That is so they can put nectar in it and fill it almost half way. Once the nectar is in, other bees will evaporate the water from the nectar by fanning their wings. Once enough water is evaporated, it turns the nectar to honey. Once it is the right thickness they fill the cell up completely, then bees cover it with wax to preserve it. Then we steal it.”

You stick the knife between the ropes of the skep. You cut through the beeswax at the top and sides of the third comb from the left until it comes loose in your hands. Gently, so gently, you pull it out from the hive. It has some bees on it, but most of them stay inside the hive.

“Honeycomb is made from wax that the bees shed off their bodies. They chew it until soft and build these perfectly symmetrical 6 sided cells. Notice the bottom of the cells on this side matches with where 3 cells come together on the other side. Makes it super strong. This honey is heavy, at least 15 pounds on this one chunk alone. We only want to take honey, and the honey should be covered by wax.”

You tilt the comb to the right and some liquid runs out of a few cells.

“Too watery. Bees didn’t cover it and won’t until it evaporates more. Whatever spills the bees will collect and put into their hive again.”

There is about 16 centimeters of comb at the bottom where there is nectar not covered or just empty. You cut this from the rest of the honeycomb, placing the capped comb in the bucket.

You take the part that is cut off and hold it to the light.

“Sometimes you can see eggs in the bottom of the combs that do not have nectar in them, those are bees of the future. I am not wasting this. I’m going to melt the wax at the cut and put it back where I took the other part out.

Squatting under the hive, you summon magical flames, melting all along the cut edge of the wax and nectar, sticking it into the space you took the top of it from. Holding it up there you wait a bit for the wax to cool and it sticks. You leave the next couple combs alone, looking at the opposite side. You don’t want to disturb the queen or babies. The bees keep their spare honey to the sides of the nest where the queen is laying eggs. You decide to cut another chunk out. Gently taking it out you bring it to the table. There is capped honey about half way down. Then the honey stops and there is different colored darker stuff in the combs.

“The top is capped honey. Bees make it to feed the babies and feed themselves, especially in winter. Next they gather pollen. They even sort it keeping the types of pollen together. Grass, clover, ash, oak, maple, sunflower, if it has pollen bees take it. Heavy protein in pollen. They sort honey too. You’ll see all kinds of colors. Really light colored honey in the spring. Darker honey in the fall. Anyway, cells lower than that is where the queen lays the eggs. When the eggs hatch they look like larvae, you know, the stuff Teach fishes with. The bees feed the larvae honey and pollen. It grows and fills the cell. Once it is big enough it spins a cocoon, the adult bees cover them with wax. They pupate and turn into adult bees, chewing their way out and going to work in the hive.

You continue working as you harvest more honeycomb and try not to destroy any of the hard work of the bees by putting what comb you can back inside the skeps.

“I gotta know. Tell me about bee sex. Everyone talks about the birds and the bees.” Claude grins.

“There are 3 castes of bees. The queen. The worker. The drone. There is one queen in a hive. She is the only female that mates. She mates for maybe 7-10 days of her life, maybe 12 to 16 times. Spends the rest of her life laying eggs. Her body is the longest/biggest in the hive, her abdomen is quite large, swollen with eggs. It sticks out much farther than her wings. Next are the female workers. That accounts for 90% more or less of the population. They gather the nectar, bring it back, put it in the cells, dehydrate it, make wax, build cells, protect the hive, guard the hive, get rid of the dead, feed the queen, clean the queen, pollenate the flowers, collect the pollen and 100 other jobs. If there is work to be done they do it. They have the stingers that sting to protect the hive. Queens have stingers too, but theirs are smooth. They fight other queens, nothing else. That is why there is only one.“

“We can’t’ forget the drones, the males. They have no stinger. They do no work. They contribute nothing to the hive except for the queens genes. They don’t pollenate. Their only purpose is to go out and find a virgin or recently virgin queen to mate with. They mate while flying in the air. The drones hang out in an area looking for their lady love. Their eyes make up 80% or more of their head, go almost all the way around it. Once they see a queen, they fly after her. She flies high and fast and whoever catches her first gets her. He sticks his male part into her female part. Upon his entry, his part breaks off, and he falls to his death. She goes out again for more. Bees don’t mate with their relatives, each has their own smell. So they spread their genes around. “

“Gah!” Claude slaps his arm. “They got me!”

“Get over there by the wall and sit down!” You order him, quickly finishing what you were doing, then rushing to Claude’s side, away from the bees you take off your hat and veil putting your ear to his chest to listen. His heart sounds pretty normal. Breathing sounds good

“Where is the sting?” You’re looking him over.

He points to his right upper arm.

“How are you feeling?” You’re watching the spot where he was stung, checking his fingers, his eyes, listening to his breathing.

“Talk to me for a bit. Just talk about anything. If your tongue swells up, that’s a bad sign. Talk so I know you’re okay.” You unbutton his shirt and pull it down over his shoulder to where the sting is.

“Gah! Just mention bee sex and you’re all over me!” He laughs.

The bee must have snuck inside his shirt, got into a small hole somewhere. His arm looks okay, the stinger is still in his arm and his skin is red around the stinger, the spot is about as big as a gold coin and slightly puffed up. Pulling a dagger out of your pocket, you scrape along his arm, flicking the stinger out.

All the while Claude keeps talking, counting trees in rows. Asking if you would be taking his pants off if he was stung in the leg…

“How are you feeling now?” You ask. “And that is why your pants legs are tied at the ankles. To keep them out.”

“Doing fine.” He grins. “The sting hurts a little less now. Not sweaty, not a real good poison. Mostly localized.

You put your ear to his chest again, checking on his breathing and heart rate.

“So how many stings before they really get to you?” The master tactician asks, his mind always working.

“If you are allergic 1, if you are sensitive maybe 20? If you work with them all of the time? Well I had over 75 in a single day and it just made me a bit nauseous.” You say as you help him put his shirt back together. “Want to do more or call it quits? I don’t want to do this when it starts to get dark.”

You both agree to play it safe. Marking the hives that were harvested, you head to the kitchen dropping off the buckets of honey. There’s a few bees hanging out with the honey comb, but the kitchen can deal with them.

Heading back to the hives you finish cleaning up.

“So what did you bring to put bees in?” You ask.

“What?” Claude feigns innocence.

“Don’t be all innocent with me. You want some of their poison.” You grin. “Give it to me. I’ll get some in it and then show you how to get your poison. Oh, remember, male bees have no stingers right? I think we should prank Lorenz. It’ll give him a heart attack.”

Claude laughs heartily, “And here I thought you were nothing but a bookworm with no sense of humor.”

“I can have fun too!” You whine.

“Great, just come by my room any night you want to discuss more about the birds and the bees, eh?” He grins.

“Now you’re sounding like Sylvain.” You groan.

“Oooh, that was a major insult. I am wounded.” Claude laughs.

***********************

Yes. I am a beekeeper. I love my bees. I could watch them work for hours. The smell of a beehive on a warm summers day is amazing.

#fe3h #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe16 #feth #fe3h x reader #Claude von Riegan #beekeeper #Save the Bees

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