“No luck stopping them planes, then?”
“It’s just the one plane, actually”
“Mister President–”

30-something poly kinky queer mess
recovering former game dev
dating: @estrogen-and-spite & @RobinProblem
“No luck stopping them planes, then?”
“It’s just the one plane, actually”
“Mister President–”
“We and our 847 partners saw you from across the bar and we’d like you to join our hive”
The hive has no individual as its Queen, just an increasingly complex shared calendar that quietly became self aware.
“Will this hurt?”
“Only if you want it to.” said the voice, already inside my head.
“We and our 847 partners saw you from across the bar and we’d like you to join our hive”