#bee writes stuff

[horror-beeings-artandwriting]

Adam x GN winner reader HCS?

Sure thing!

Adam is very happy he found someone, sure he has lute and she's a good friend, but GOD does he need someone to cuddle with! He can't cook for shit so most of the time he orders you two take out(Mostly ribs if I'm being honest) but he will, even if he whines about it, let you order stuff other then ribs as well. He will call you crude nicknames in public, no shame, but in private he's a bit sweeter, calling you baby, my love, sweetheart. Normal couple shit. If you do know about the extermination, he'll bring you back souvenirs he totally didn't steal from the shops the other angels ransacked. it'll start small, maybe a key chain, but one day he brought a random dog, you. still don't know where he got it. if you don't know about it, then he'll do ANYTHING to make sure you never find out! Safe to say if you are a higher rank and go to court when charlie showed up, he, started to panic a little. He doesn't really do PDA as much(other then nicknames), since (Personal hc here) I think heaven frowns upon it, not that it's straight up banned, but just looked down on. Oh but in private? yeah he's carrying you everywhere, hugging you, leaning on you(Even if he almost crushes you-) Wrapping his wings around you, you name it, he does it. Adam is cocky, he loves, LOVES even if you hate it, saying in front of a giant crowd "THIS SONG GOES OUT TO MY AMAZING PARTNER!" I will A. sing a cheesy love song or B. the most down bad, horny, jaw dropping song about your intimate life. Personally I think Adam would love watching shitty TLC dramas and laughing at how dumb they are with you, a perfect night for him would 100% be ribs, you laying in his lap while you watch 90 day fiance on the couch. He hates when other people look at you, or flirt with you, or anything, he still is pretty pissed about loosing his wives, and he sure as shit isn't loosing you to some, fucking random ass guy! I think he's like a bird, like a pet bird, can be snarky and rude, but as soon as you stop giving him attention, he screams. He loves making jokes, one day he found a rock, it looked like a guitar pick, and he with a straight face said it was for "rock music". He is TRYING key word trying to get better about his misogyny for you. He wants your friends to like him, since maybe one day, he'll ask for their blessing to marry you!

That's all I have right now but I hope you like it, I love this dork so much <3

#hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #gn reader #fem reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #bee writes stuff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin adam x reader #adam x you

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

Seabirds- Ralbert

This was originally written on Quotev as a request from someone, using one of their OCs x Race. I’ve changed it to be ralbert, as their OC isn’t mine and we kinda fell out of touch for reasons, so enjoy this cute little Ralbert fic!

    “Al, would you look at this?”

    Albert heard the awe in Race’s voice as he stared over the edge of the bridge, and he glanced over to see what his boyfriend was looking at. Their walk was supposed to be a short trip across the bridge, to Brooklyn and back to make sure Spot Conlon was still tolerant of the union, but the cool evening had set in and the sunset had caught Race’s attention. Albert loved that about him- how he always stopped to appreciate beautiful things. 

    Glancing over the railing, he could just barely see the sun, rays of light coating the world in an almost surreal shade of orange as it disappeared over the horizon. Race’s eyes sparkled with amazement, and he wrapped an arm around Albert as the redhead came to stand beside him. Despite the chilly air of the night as evening set in, Albert’s heart warmed his arms and legs as Race squeezed his shoulders.

    “It’s wonderful,” Albert agreed after a moment, whispering so as to not break the magic of the moment. Race hugged him close, and for a while it was just the two of them, basking in the fading light of the sun. Somewhere in the distance, Albert heard a squawk and smiled as his eyes caught two seagulls flying side-by-side. They weren’t with any other birds, the expanse of the river their only companion other than each other. It seemed some sort of a beautiful symbolism- maybe those birds didn’t need anyone other than themselves. Now, he didn’t know where they were going, most probably south for the winter, but he found himself wishing he was going with them. Far, far away, where the stress of life couldn’t find where he was.

    Briefly, he wondered if Race ever would be willing to leave with him.

    “I wonder where those two birds are going,” Race commented absentmindedly, and it was as if he’d read Albert’s mind. Albert chuckled softly, shrugging.

    “Me too.” Turning to face him, he planted a kiss on Race’s freckled cheek. “Who knows? They could be lovers, heading off to a new life together.” Smiling, he continued to speak, slowly getting lost in his own thoughts as he voiced them aloud. “Far away from the hustle and bustle of New York, where they can rest in peace and spend their bird-lives together.”

    Race raised an eyebrow. “You’ve sure thought about this a lot, huh?” He nudged Albert with his elbow, grinning at him teasingly. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

    Albert blushed slightly, elbowing Race back and laughing. “I guess so.” He looked back out at the river. “I think it’s kind of a metaphor, you know?”

    Race nodded beside him, humming in response. “I think I get it,” he said after a moment, his voice slightly wistful.

    “Do you ever think we could do something like that? Run away together, I mean.” Albert glanced up at him, his heart rate suddenly picking up as the weight of the question hung between them. Race paused for a second, and Albert genuinely thought he’d messed up.

    He’d already begun to open his mouth and formulate an apology when Race smiled. “I’d want nothing more, mio amato.”

    Albert leaned his head against Race’s chest, smiling to himself, and Race hugged him close as the final bit of light disappeared, leaving the world shrouded in quiet darkness. Normally, the darkness enveloping them would be something for a man to be afraid of, a symbol of lost hope and danger, but those worries meant nothing to the two boys standing on that bridge together.

    Albert liked to think that he and Race were like those seabirds, flying far away from the night, having only each other and their shadow-like outlines in the sky to let the busy world beneath them know that they were there.

#newsies #fanfiction #newsies musical #writing #racetrack higgins #race x albert #albert dasilva #albert newsies #racetrack newsies #race newsies #ralbert #bee writes stuff

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 2: season 3 or season 4 or environment

(Letters in a box that was entrusted to Grumbot in another universe.)

Dear Mumbo:

He is killing me, and I am beginning to think he knows it, and doesn't care. It's far worse from when I thought he didn't know. I wanted to think of us as friends, you know.

With each passing day, I am growing weaker still. I know, I know, you argued it was my fault, but I don't think you understand. Even if I hadn't gone and played with the mushrooms, I think I'd still be dying. It's something Scar's doing to the land. I'm in the shopping district more than most people; I practically live here part-time, with how much I've been expanding the Barge. And even before the mycellium, I was getting sicker and sicker and sicker. Ever since he became mayor.

You used to agree with me, but I'm done arguing. I don't know what it's done to your head. I don't know what it's done to mine.

And he's killing me. With every bit of the network he poisons and rips out, he's killing me. I know he knows it, now. I know you won't believe me. I just wanted someone to know. I wanted someone to know he's destroying the thing I did to keep myself alive.

I really wish you'd become mayor. Maybe then we'd just be hanging out with Grumbot.

Grian, I switched sides. You know I switched sides. You know why. I don't know if you should be sending me letters like this. I could tell Scar. I could tell anyone. I could make you go home and rest and let someone actually check out the fact you say you're dying. They would make you go home. We'd be able to actually fix the shopping district, you'd be able to rest, and Scar would be able to focus on more important things. You are still friends, I'm sure, once we fix this.

Dear Mumbo:

You won't. You're still a good enough friend to keep my secrets at least. Thank you.

Grian, I don't think that's a good thing.

Dear Mumbo:

Maybe I just want someone to know. Maybe I want you to come back. Maybe I just want someone to understand what they're doing to me.

I thought you'd understand.

I thought maybe I'd want you to remember when I was gone.

Grian, Frankly at this point I'm not convinced you're not lying. Scar's a good mayor. He's done what he promised. It's not like either of us voted for me either; we both wanted the shopping district to be made prettier too. I don't understand why you're trying to make me come back like this. Please just come talk. We can fix this.

Dear Mumbo:

You know, maybe you're right. I do regret sending you this. Would you do me the favor and burn it?

(There is no reply.)

#hermithorrorweek2023 #a bee fic #hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #gotta love some good old season seven turf war stuff huh #this is a STRETCH of the term 'environment' and i know it but i'm going where my mind takes me man #anyway. what about the opposite of how we normally do mother spore stuff. what if mother spore is Doing Bad #because like. scar's TALKED ABOUT having wanted to be more evil. What If. #anyway. ANYWAY. whole universe for this one exists in my head somewhere but my trick to actually doing a prompt week #is to write the fic that actually comes to me quickly #SO HERE IT IS. ENJOY.

[kaelidascope]

“I can’t believe we got you to dance all night with us!” Sun crows gleefully as Blake approaches. Neptune cheers, and as one the newlyweds surge over to her: framing her from both sides as they kiss her cheeks, hugging her between their held hands. Blake hopes Velvet caught that; she’d love to have a picture like that for her desk. Something to zone out at when the words won’t come and she’s half-convinced no one’s actually fallen in love, ever—that no one ever truly feels that deeply.

An inspiration.

A goal.

---

Velvet may not have captured it but Chef Kaeli certainly did! For @professorspork <3 Who so graciously made my job coming up with a birthday treat so much easier with this suggestion

Read this fic guys it's INSANELY cute and I was squealing the whole read. It's a short lil thing c'mon guys if I can shotgun this in one morning you can too. Give her some love, she is an absolutely hidden gem of an author and so far every work I've read of hers is excellent.

Also it's like her birthday so like yeah go on. Off with ya, go read. Comments are crack for us and we are shameless addicts

#rwby #seamonkeys #blake belladonna #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #READ SPORKS WORK #this is a threat #please my god she needs more attention we can do better than that #This is the literal queen of organic bees #You want something to reference irl? read this and you and me and this temptation #If its not like how spork writes the bees you don't want it trust me #I drew this with a 101 fever in under 3 hours this is the best you're gonna get NGFKNFGKJGF #no fr tho hmu if you want formal art of other stuff ilu

[ssweetleaf]

✮ bee’s updated masterlist ✮

who i write for

✰ cillian murphy ✰

*ੈ‧₊˚ cillian’s characters

✰ stranger things ✰

*ੈ‧₊˚ eddie munson

*ੈ‧₊˚ steve harrington

*ੈ‧₊˚ robin buckley

✰ other joe keery characters ✰

*ੈ‧₊˚ gator tillman

more to be added soon…

#wanted to make a new masterlist bc my old writing was cringe #it’s still up though just in case anybody liked my old stuff! #bee’s masterlist 🍒 #stranger things smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut

[arabriddler]

No one really knows who the joker is and what’s his deal, but you’re the viewer, you get special insight. Before he was the joker, he was John Jones. John had a very normal life. He grew up as an only child in a normal house with normal parents. They had taco nights, his dad watched the news, his mom cooked. He went to school and all his grades were average. He had friends but nothing with deep attachments. No big events. Worked in a normal office job… the most normal life you could think of.

John didn’t know it but all this normalcy was eating him. No one could stand a life like that. He’s mostly untethered to reality, not really caring about anything because he has no strong attachments. No big revelations about life. He spaces out. Sometimes he says words that don’t make sense but it makes people laugh. He’s funny, that’s one thing.

One day, Batman falls into the office window while battling man-bat. As soon as he was here he was gone. The office picked up the mess and Bruce Wayne covered the Loses. Next day, everything went back to normal. John could not stand another second of that. It was eating him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do this. He began obsessing over Batman. Something about him. You can clearly tell that’s a broken man, but he’s stoic. He’s held together. John is sure that if he takes the suit off the man would fall apart. This obsession soon sparked jealousy. How can someone like Batman still be held together when he, John, can barely make it through the day because he can’t stand something as simple as normalcy?

he needs to break him. what? laughter breaks people. They can’t breathe. Their tummies hurt. It’s a prison but it’s freedom.

When it got too much he quit his job and disappeared. No one looked for him. No one really cared. A few months later, The Joker took Gotham by a storm.

#The joker #Batman #bee's art #nahlaverse #My attempt at writing normal stuff is hilarious like hmmm what do Normal people do?

[ricopop]

updated slightly more detailed oscillo ref ... had lors of fun researching for this :-3 @cephalonheadquarters @superbellsubways

bonus things under cut

#oscillo #rico art #virtual assistants #virus #ocs #i also have a clearer idea of. my own virus lore ... im hoping to crank more stuff out bc im an autism beast i love. oscillo ewuueeekk .... #feedback is appreciated bee tee dubs i kind of like this #i forvot to write it in tje thing but he can alps store tjings in his slop #like ms paints bag or bing bongs. bag.. binb bomg fron isnide out btw. like hammerspace #the only thing is whatever hes storing gets more dirty overtime bc of tjr virus matter hehehehe #ok

[byrdtrolls]

Tragedy

“You’ll be at the academy?” She says, suddenly, as if this wasn’t part of the plan, fear dancing on her face. “You’ll be looking through the academy records?” 

“I’ll be fine. I can handle my damn self” You insist, know it was coming but bristling anyways. 

“Hanagi” she says, glancing down the hallway, hands gripping her arms nervously. “Let’s call it off. Let’s quit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You can’t- just let me do it! This wasn’t the plan” she says. 

“That limeblood you wanted to save so bad is counting on me! I can handle walking around a fleet building. YOU however are supposed to be dead.” You say back. “Your dad will be there the whole time.”

“There’s-“ Monark chokes. Glancing to the side.

“She’s gone,” You say. “She's not gonna hurt you. And she’s not gonna hurt me” You reassure. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she says, wiping her face. 

You stare at the highblood, losing her reasoning. “What are you worried about?” You ask. Bluntly. 

“In those files-Nandors account, there is” She breathes. “Footage of me. And things. You can’t see”

“What things?” You ask. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it” she stutters. “Just let me-“ 

“No, Bee, what THINGS” you hiss. “Because I thought I already knew the worst. Intimately, I thought I knew the worst of you. And there are more THINGS?” You accuse. 

She blinks back tears, unable to meet your eyes.

“Don’t make me say it” she says. 

“I wanna know what I’m getting into” you say stubbornly, brain dancing wildly with images of imagined transgressions bad enough to warrant such a reaction, hemophobia and murder and all manner of fleet awfulness, you wonder for the fiftieth time if you’re doing the right thing by being here. By aligning yourself with her. 

Monark gives a tiny hiccup into her own hand. “Please,” she says. “Please understand. I was so lonely. And young. And afraid. I wanted to be loved. I’d do anything” she sobs. You do not answer. Not ready to offer forgiveness when you’re not yet sure what you’re forgiving. In the ever cascading row of dominos that Twitch Monark was these past few sweeps, what does she consider her ‘first’ transgression?

.

.

.

.

.

She is shaking like a leaf. Quivering like a skeletal, crumbling, ghost of a girl. She does not look you in the eye. She keeps her hands together tightly clasped, like a prayer, or a soldier at attention. Her speech has been rehearsed in the mirror a million times. It does not make it any easier. She has to pause, and start over again, many times during it. Yet somehow manages to slowly move forward, it spilling out like a cracked safe that’s been held so tight to her chest for so long. A secret kept so deep, she had given everything to hide it. 

She had taken it literally to her grave. 

She had let her whole life fall apart to bury this in a locked box in the coffin at the bottom of the sea but whatever she’s trying to keep down isn’t dead yet. It’s knocking on boarded up walls and thrashing in the basement. It could consume her at any moment. It already has. As she speaks, your worries on whether or not she’s changed, whether you were wrong slip from you. 

She is the same girl she ever was. She has been since she was a child. Slowly, Monark tells you- just what exactly Elenor Nandor did to her. 

This is the part where she keeps speaking.

This is the part where I typed a quotation mark, but could not bring myself to actually imagine the words coming out of her mouth. Could not picture these as real sentences, could not make them quotable, could not step that close to this hurt. I hope you can forgive me for the subsequent lack of punctuation. 

She was nice to me, she describes. She told me I was smart. She told me I was strong. She told me I was talented. She gave me privileges the other soldiers didn’t get. She stopped in on my classes. More and more frequently. She called me to her office at odd times of the day. She said she wanted to tutor me privately. She gave me gifts. 

She made things more difficult for me. She said I had to prove myself. She set me up in fights she knew I’d lose. She hurt me. She told me I had beautiful eyes.

Bee describes to you, and your heart sinks into a desolate cavern, imagining what this must have done to the mind of awkward, socially inept Twitch, so desperate to be loved and accepted by her peers. So prone to paranoia and fear. There’s a tiny ringing in the back of your ear. A symphony of alarm bells whirring up at a funerals pace. As she lists through the red flags you can see crystal clear, but that young, naive cadet couldn’t. The pieces of a puzzle you didn’t even know needed solving falling together one by one, with a horrible methodology and precision. This answer is simpler, plainer, and crueler than you could ever imagine. You realize, with dawning horror, you already know it will get worse from here. You didn’t want to believe it could get worse than here. You didn’t want to believe the world could be more selfish and awful and fucked than it already was. 

But sometimes, something ceases to be a metaphor for something, and simply is. 

Sometimes, you start writing a story about yourself, and you do not realize it is a story about yourself, until the very end. 

Bee tells you, in detached, clinical terms, like a state mandated apology, she narrates with no tone in her voice, what Nandor did to her. In her office, in the training rooms, when Peonie left the room. 

And then she told me it was my fault, she says. That I had seduced her and acted inappropriate. That if anyone knew, they would be ashamed of me. That I was awful, and sick, and depraved, and they would blame me if they knew. 

And I believed her.

I wanted to tell someone, she chokes through a veil of tears. I wanted it to stop. 

But I was so scared. 

That I had done something wrong. 

And I didn’t want everyone to hate me. 

And I’m sorry. 

In a move utterly unlike Hanagi Cheong, you grab her by the shoulders, and pull her into a hug. Your powers buzzing with her emotion as her arms close around her, she freezes, and you feel a fraction of the guilt, fear, and shame Monark has been carrying for sweeps, a woman grown up around a knife in her back. You struggle to steady your breathing as the emotion crashes over you, trying to focus, trying not to get lost, in that gargantuan weight. A talisman that could drag you to the bottom of the sea if you let it. 

You tell her, just this once, 

“That’s not your fault” you say. 

“Listen to me- that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You choke. “She was manipulating you, and using you, and trying to keep you quiet, and what she did was unfathomably wrong, and selfish, and cruel, and you didn’t deserve it, do you understand?”

Slowly, she crumples into you, arms raising to hug you back, she cries into your shoulder. Softly, quietly. This tangled knot of distrust, paranoia, and self hatred, the marked scars of carrying this alone for so long are fresh within her. But as she falls into you, you feel the barest hints of a tentative, cautious relief shimmer at the edges of her mind. As she lets your words course through her. It is not your fault.

How many times?

Have you sat and watched the world destroy someone. Have you watched a system older than time erode away the edges of someone you loved. Hurt them. Hurt them irrecoverably. Hurt them deeply. Hurt them unfairly. Hurt them just because it can. 

How many times?

How many times?

How many times?

How many times?

How many times?

Six sweeps ago, you made a promise. I’m better than this. You said. I’m never gonna kill someone. I’m not gonna let it get to me. When the time comes, I’m gonna be the guy that offers a hand. 

And you kept that promise. 

A straw doesn’t break a camel's back. 

A thousand straws break a camel. 

Everything that came before it wore down the edges of you. 

A million lives destroys a person's soul. Your hands were gripped tight to the edges of that promise. Your fingers were breaking, holding on so tight to that promise. 

There is nothing the system can’t take from you. There is no forgiveness, it can't turn against you. It can’t use to hurt you. Because it was built to punish people who care. 

Like a sigh older than time. A breath you’ve been holding for ages. You let your hippocratic oath go. You exhale the ashes of the girl you used to be.

You give up on the dream. 

You stop believing, you will live to see a better world. 

It’s not giving up- 

It’s a truth you wanted so desperately to ignore. It’s not a reason to stop fighting. 

It’s a reason to fight harder. 

Don’t you get it? 

This…

…is it. 

This world, exactly as it is, is all you have. 

This painful, complicated life. 

This never ending gun to your head. This planet that is drowning, has been drowning, in a fight older than you, a fight that has taken trolls better than you. This place that is so broken- so deeply broken. This tangled, fucked up ball of hurt and pain and anger and greed. A planet that is drowning in blood. 

This is all you have. 

You get one whisper, one moment in the winds of time. 

You get one life. 

And life is hard. 

And it will be hard

And has been hard

It will be hard for your children

It will be hard for your children’s children.

You cannot finish the work. 

But by g-d, you are not exempt from it. 

This has always been bigger than you. 

This has always been hopeless out of your control. 

But you’re here, right now. You are alive. 

And you can do something. 

Right now, you can do something as simple as take another person's hand. 

It doesn’t matter if this is ‘enough’. It doesn’t matter if it will never get fixed. It doesn’t matter if you’re fighting for a happily ever after that might not come for 1000 sweeps. 

…It doesn’t matter if you’re fighting for a happily ever after that might not come at all. 

There is never an ounce of relief that is so small it cannot be shared. 

There is never a fragment of hope too minuscule to change a person from the inside out. 

Bee Monark wakes up feeling rested for the first time in sweeps. 

In the fading beams of the sunset, she drags herself out of bed. Brushing her teeth, 

washing her face,

bringing a comb through her hair. 

She is the first to make it to the coffee machine, the thing whirring as she flicks the power on. 

You are already awake when she makes it back to bed with a mug in hand. You are simply laying with your eyes closed. 

She gently touches your shoulder, rousing you.

And your hand fumbles for your glasses on the nightstand. 

You squint at her, reading her lips as you have not yet put in your hearing aid. 

“Hanagi look” she says, with a soft smile, tipping over her mug to show you.

“I got it,” she says. “I got it perfectly.”

#tw SA mention #tw grooming #<---in the most vaguest possible terms #<---no actually scene even described #<--- all in the past and not actionable #the narrative holds your hand about it #but it is a very prominent theme in this piece #so everyone take care of yourselves #tw meta stuff #I get kinda way personal with it #anyways #bee writing #hanagi writing #my writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok stays in the house overnight so it isn't as quiet. He stays for the week because he wants to see the leaves turn, or so he says. As if he's never seen the leaves turn before. The gray hairs start coming in fast - day after day - and Janeway mourns that too. Mark used to call them twins, she and Molly. "Same glossy coat," he'd joke. Tuvok makes her soup and tea. Janeway jokes she needs the fluid, crying as much as she is. Tuvok says she needs the warmth. He asks if there's an orchard nearby. "Nothing in season." They take a walk. In the kitchen she cuts her hand as she tries to chop something because there's nothing to maneuver around - no one to beg. On the floor, she holds her hand out and lets the Vulcan disinfect the wound. He'll call T'Pel, he says. Something's come up, the captain's been injured. He'll stay until it's settled. Until it's healed. Request from @catgirljaneway : Tuvok comforting Janeway

#bee doodles #Tuvok #Kathryn Janeway #voy #st voyager #my writing #animal death #in which Tuvok reads the mind of a dying dog and finds nothing but love #Tuvok would understand how much it hurts - he apparently ran away from home when his Sehlat died #anytime I make stuff for these two I feel like that 'I'm dropping hints that they're [queerplatonic]' meme #star trek voyager

[nick-close]

*sighs softly and starts working on the Odyssey-San visual novel*

#I have a very brief intro written #I have no assets tho #I’m gonna have to find stuff #rn I’m using placeholders like the edit bee made for me #and my own edit #this is a placeholder edit but I wanna put the title on #and make it suck less #helpf #I’m making myself giggle at the writing tho #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads odyssey #literally hehe #dndads s1

[horror-beeings-artandwriting]

hihihi I love your works!!! ^_^

Could I request Vox x reader with curly hair?? I have curly hair and it takes a SUUUPER long time to make it look right,, idk just thought it would be cute!! Xoxo

Of course!!!(fun fact I actually have curly hair so I understand your pain-)

He will try and learn how to take care of your hair! He hasn’t taken care of hair in so long, I mean, look at him!

He will buy you the most EXPENSIVE curly hair product possible, 110 dollars for a conditioner? Bought. Special curly hair shampoo that costs 80? Consider it part of your collection! Styling products? You’ve got so many you lost count! He just, gives them to you. On random days!

He will try to help style your hair for you, and while he does that, he’ll just say “god you’re so beautiful” or “I can’t get over how fluffy your hair is.”

He WILL play with your hair, or pet your hair, or anything, he loves the way it feels.

He would get so sad if you straightened your hair, after the fact would BEG you to never do it again!

Hope you enjoy! <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #headcanons #fluff #curly hair #bee writes stuff #thanks for requesting!

[skoulsons]

“Come back?”

The question never failed to fall from her lips every morning, always needing the reassurance that he would.

After Silver Lake, she needed it.

He pulled away, his hands cupping her face. “Promise I’m comin’ back,” he said, a smile on his face. One that’s not seen often. One that’s reserved.

She smiled back at him, her grin reaching his palms. She breathed in and exhaled, Joel leaning forward to quickly kiss her forehead. He did, immediately pulling away and placing the tip of his forehead against hers.

They waited there a moment, the gates of Jackson opening to let the patrol crew out. “Better get going. Tommy looks like he’s in a rush,” Ellie whispered, Joel chuckling at the comment.

“He’s always in a damn rush,” Joel remarked, bringing his left hand down to her forearm, keeping his right still on her cheek. He pulled his forehead away from hers and brought it beside her head, pressing his cheek into the hair above her ear.

“I’ll come back,” he reassured as he pulled back, catching her gaze again. He brought his right hand down to her other forearm and squeezed both her arms tightly before meeting up with Tommy at the gate.

#inspired by #episode 1 of the new Witcher season #and some bees 🐝 #probably the shortest thing I’ve ever written #are you guys proud of me #about to go make some more progress in this WIP #it’s getting to the fun stuff to write now #🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 #L writes

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 1: season 8 or game mechanics

His teeth still taste like blood.

He's locked inside the belly of the Octagon. He doesn't know when he got there, but whoever wrestled him into it was smarter than Ren. They realized the full moon's light didn't reach the wiring. They realized it would give him time to down wolfsbane and silver nitrate. It also gave him time to throw it all up in the corner. If Doc were here, he'd be scolding Ren on the fact that silver nitrate is still a toxin and a disinfectant, and he should still be taking it in small doses, no matter how badly he wants to poison the wolf.

He curls up, shuddering, against the wires and pipes that power the shop. He feels thin and gaunt. He hopes he has not had much to eat. He doesn't have a phone or communicator on him. He doesn't know the day. It doesn't matter what the day is. The moon's visible during the daytime, too. It may have only been a night. It may have been weeks. It's probably at least been days.

He throws up again, because wolfsbane is poisonous too.

Most things that can keep a wolf down are poisonous. Ren doesn't have to take them often. He's normally... controlled. A tamed wolf on the full moon. He has a pack to run with. He doesn't need to poison himself to keep the wolf at bay. He doesn't need to take silver nitrate like it's a medicine and not a reagent.

But none of this is making his teeth stop tasting like blood. His shirt is covered in it, too. His legs. His face, he thinks--he can't see his reflection in here. He wouldn't know. But it would have to be. There's so much blood on him.

He doesn't have a scratch on him.

The only thing that stops him, then, from taking more silver nitrate is that if he respawns from the poison damage, he'll respawn out under the moon. He'll respawn back out there. And then--

He shudders. He folds himself into a tighter ball against the belly of the Octagon. In a shaking voice, he cries out for Doc again. Doc has to be nearby. Doc has to be nearby. Because if he isn't--

No one answers. Ren doesn't know who locked him in here. He wonders if it was a struggle.

He's covered in blood.

It smells horribly good. Ren feels dizzy. He's gaunt. He's so hungry. He'll hold that to his chest. He's hungry and sick, not simply sick. If he weren't hungry--if he weren't hungry--

But he's not as hungry as he should be, if it's been days, and he's covered in blood, and he resists the urge to howl, a long, mournful thing. He doesn't want to howl, or bark, or anything else right now.

Instead he cries, a human thing, and holds onto it tightly while he waits for the pain in his stomach and the shudders over his skin and the grey stains where he'd grabbed the bottle and the vomiting to end, so he can take another dose, and force the wolf further down. Down enough to be safe.

Down enough that he didn't maul his friends to death.

Down enough that he can know if he did.

Down enough that he won't try to leave again, as he knows he will, as the moon shines outside, and as soon as someone tries to open the door to rescue him, letting that light back in.

#hermithorrorweek2023 #a bee fic #hermitcraft #rendog #okay so if i'm gonna do a prompt week apparently i have to ease into it gently. by going back to my horror wheelhouse #and simply doing Weird Big Moon Stuff #i fought for TOO LONG to come up with game mechanics as a prompt when season eight was RIGHT THERE #anyway. more stories where the horror of the werewolf isn't that there is a wolf. #but that you are a wolf. and you do not know what you have done. #anyway. ren the werewolf during big moon huh. #gore #horror #emetophobia #self harm #...this is basically just whump more than horror but LETS GO I NEEDED TO WRITE THAT TOO #moon's big #ask to tag

[oddlittlestories]

The words and the content. and the logic that brought him here. would he fucking say that

#cw language #writing #fanfic writer blues #writing memes #memes #bee makes stuff

[writergeekrhw]

Hi!

First off all I just wanted to say I love Elementary so much, its the only show I ever bought dvds for and I still rewatch it from time to time. Its like thee cozy crime/this is my tv home show! Also the choice for Sherlock to be a beekeeper in New York led me to do beekeeping in the suburbs for a solid 5 years so thank you for that detail!

With that in mind, how was working with the beehives? Where did they come from? Were the bees crawling up out of their cells at the end of season one real or some kind of...robot/cgi maybe? (Having just read about the 3 clives I realize that could bee the case)

I was never in New York when they shot the bees, but they weren't a constant presence. We only used them at the rooftop location, which was in Long Island City somewhere I think. (I never went there). The hives themselves were props. The bee shots were either inserts, stock which we bought, or, in some cases, CGI. I don't think we ever used real bees, but I'm not 100% sure.

#ask me anything #tv writing #ask me stuff #cbs elementary #elementary #bees

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

whatever you do, don’t think about Charmy wanting Vector to play with him by landing on the middle of the croc’s back so he can’t catch him while Vector is trying to reach and get him off, while simultaneously making it into a game, spinning the two of them around and pretending to not know that’s its him and some random person trying to attack him.

Just…don’t think about that cute scenario.

.....EXCUSE ME? Bro, BRO

You are CRAZY to think that I would read this, picture it, and not react to it in some form there, Non. That would be a wasted opportunity there if i didn't.

So lucky for you I did 😘

====

Charmy huffed out a sigh and laid his face against the hardwood floor, throwing down a crayon and lazily watching it roll across the floor until it hit a stack of papers that he had colored, folded, and cut an hour prior to this mental roadblock. The one issue is that he had no more paper, and that also meant that he was back to being bored until something else happened.

He didn't have many options. Going outside to play was definitely out of the question since a huge snowstorm had come inland the day prior and wasn't letting up anytime soon. Which also meant that no clients were going to be calling in for potential cases to them crack for a while.

He had some picture books he could look through and some school-related notebooks he could work on, but he already looked through most of them while he was NOT trying to do any school work in an unofficial snow day, even though Vector and Espio might make him do it later on.

He would go to use the phones to call up one of his friends, like Cream, Ray or Tails, or even that cool guy, Shadow the Hedgehog, if he even bothered to keep a cellphone that is. But they only had the one landline and he knew Espio was using it earlier to talk to some important people on the other end.

That left him just one option left, being stuck bored beyond belief until his brain melted into jello, or whatever happened when you're bored for so long.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling until his eyesight went all fuzzy, reminding himself that he needed to blink every so often. After 5 minutes of doing that was beginning to get boring for him.

Charmy's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice clearing their voice from the main floor below, followed by the sounds of paper shuffling around. He lifted up his head slightly and remembered that he still had two other people in the office to play with.

Crawling over to the edge of stairwell, he climbed down a few of the steps and peeked over to see Vector at his desk, writing thoroughly on a few sheets of paper while multiple folders covered the rest of the desk, a steaming mug of coffee next to him, he also had radio on behind him that sounded like it was playing music from the old times. Vector told him it was a style of music from the 50s, which probably made the crocodile super old if he remembered that.

Other than Vector, there was no one else here. Espio wasn't in clear sight, though from where Charmy was looking, he was either in the kitchen or near the front entrance, either doing his own paperwork or meditating like he usually does.

That just left Vector as the main target. He definitely knew better than to bother him while he was doing important work stuff, but his thirst for fun was on the line, and he was not going out like that easily.

(Read the rest on Ao3!)

#Vector being called a dinosaur: no reaction #Vector being called old: VENGEANCE WILL BE SERVED #Even though it basically meant the same thing in that context XD #this is what happens when you get a good idea like this at 1 am #you just write out stuff until it becomes a drabble into a fic of its own #that’s how it works fo me sometimes XD #team chaotix #the chaotix #vector the crocodile #charmy bee #espio the chameleon #found family #sonic the hedgehog #sth #asks answered #anonymous