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dranfran · 23 days ago

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a thorough clothing analysis - ex and bee

NB: very very much inspired by @/thalfox's analysis on the obey me cast's casual outfits. clothing has a way of showing a hint of personality about the person wearing it, and a lot more about of their background and their demeanor. it's the first thing a person might see before saying "hello", so their dressing styles really do count! SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 - YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

For each and every character, we'll be starting from the top and working our way down the outfit, and talking about any garments that might have specific connotations, as well as theorizing whatever could have prompted such a choice.

EX: sophisticated, numinous, distinguished

There's this sort of classy, Sherlock Holmes inspiration with his outfit, though with its own bold hues.

The overall dark colours aided by hints of juxtaposing cooler reds and blues show that he means business. Though, this outfit could be considered arguable too self indulgent; if Ex truly wanted to be a "formal", would he not wear a plainer black suit with no accents? It's more tailored: flashy and personal, with the contrasting collars encasing what appears to a clerical shirt with a tab collar; it's distinctly related to clerical dress and most typically worn by members of the Roman Catholic Church (54% of South Americans are Roman Catholic, so it makes sense). From the crosses on the palms of his gloves to the scarf-like belt with tassels; it is clear that Ex is deeply religious, and his childhood living within the church has clearly influenced him. His outfit, in a sense, is priest like; he is acting out a communion, but what is sacrificed as such?

His blazer has a rose pattern on the sleeve with the stems pointed upwards; keeping with this religious interpretation of his outfits, roses represent passion (suffering) and martyrdom. Is Ex himself a sacrificial lamb for the greater good of the world in his sense too? Yes, his blood is the only weakness that Blodgrim will never be able to combat, but I wouldn't be surprised if in the eyes of everyone else, he is meant to shed his own blood to prevent Blod's reign of domination and terror around the world; I mean, he literally had a patten akin to blood splatters near the bottom of his blazer.. I would never ever be surprised if he is given a justified death at the end of the series.

Keeping in line with this more numinous perception of his outfit, one of his blazer collars is furred?..

I'm just as confused as you are, but perhaps they aren't mere furs and feathers, but metaphorical wings. As a dhampir having a sole wing, this mutilation is a symbol representing the lost and the lonely, the inevitable of the fall. Perhaps Ex feels a sense of incompletion, frustration, abandonment yet aspiration; recovering from being a fallen angel with perhaps, another half of wings from another person, will allow him to fly again.

BEE: comfortable, athletic, informal

As the protagonist, Bee's design as an assistant detective stands out as scarily casual; his V-neck shirt, jeans as well as running trainers all scream that his work is more child's play; there's no separation between his work and play, rather they're synonymous with each other -- so the question lies, does he really take this seriously? Or rather, is this subverting casualness a sign of being undercover, hiding who he truly is in order to appeal or comfort to those who may reject him for his roots? It's worth questioning.

His glasses which are worn in most official art are tinted yellow, which can be worn to reduce eye fatigue, and block harmful UV rays, which probably is worn for a reason adjacent to his sensitivity to light as a vampire, but could arguable be a sort of fashion statement (as another vampire we know about doesn't wear sunglasses, but we'll get to that.).

There's too many bee motifs in his design: the yellow stripes on the back of his jacket, the bee wings near the zipper, the hexagonal patten faintly stenciled near his pockets; he is a BEE alright. This motif connotes of feelings of community, working together towards a single goal as a metaphorical hive mind. focusing more on this "hive mentality", it's not crazy to assume that perhaps an younger Bee prioritized loyalty to the group in order to easily communicate with everyone, though it's probable that the same mentality is what lead him away from Blod in the first place, and what drew him to Ex instead. The deterioration of personal judgements and one's own desires fade because in the end, you will stop making decisions for yourself for the benefit of a wider institution; perhaps this is linked to the marking on his hand, a symbol of such an old allegiance that is still bares its hold on him till the present day.

Someone mentioned it before, but Bee's J-shaped leg prosthetic is used specifically for athletes who run professionally. It's frankly reminiscent of the role of a "forager" bee, who's job it is to collect nectar and guard the hive, which probably has some link to his name ("Dimongard"). Overall, Bee's clothing is indicative of a greater yearning for belonging within the wider world; a bee must be loyal to its hive, after all.

BLOD: imposing, deliberate, dignified

oh my god blodgrim bloodriven you will go to heaven. (joke.. this guy's far from it. but seriously, i love this outfit)

His outfit is very gothic, reflective of such conventions established within the 19th century; dark moody colours juxtaposed by pale skin and blackened eyes. Blod sports a black collared shirt and a slimming waistcoat stenciled with darker diamond shapes near the bottom, and a ribbon-like tie which symbolically resembles the shape of a ribcage, which is surrounded by what I assume to be two broches which resemble bones — his outfit reeks with this lingering death imagery. The sleeves of his shirt have a sort of web-like pattern, which is then cut off by a deep maroon outlining it. The web pattern near his hand gives me this vision of a spider insnaring his prey through a web — an outstretched hand is nothing more than a trap in order to be feasted on. His furred overcoat is long with spiked lapels, morphing him from just a simple man with taste to an authoritative figure, with the spikes representing this hasher, unfriendlier side of him. (A therapist is meant to be a confidant, no? This hostile style reveals a subversion of this close familiarity and reliability: it is a facade.) The lining contains patterns which resemble eyes, subtle hints of red coming back.

On his last finger is what I assume to be a signet ring, worn mostly during the 18th and 19th century, conveying a sense of power, status and independence, but were also seen as charms for communication and associated with a professional status. Perhaps as a therapist, he'd rely on such dated methods to ensure his grip and influence on a person he may be manipulating (read: Elizabeth). Bloodgrim as a character is extremely purposeful through his words, whether that be through sheer bluntness or through other implicit means.

He's wearing Louboutins. I just know he is. Those heels which physically elevate his height have a rich red colour on their souls. Most of his design his back, but only his shoes are tainted with the deepest of the red; this idea of blood unable to touch his person due to the highest of one's self-worth lingers throughout his design. Death does not touch Blod, but it actively surrounds him to the point where he's unable to truly separate it from himself.

NB: however since the 40s rings on the pinky finger have been worn by queer people as a way to come out of the closet without saying a word... take that how you will.

Just like Ex, there are many a religious allusions within Blod's own clothes through the reoccurring motif of the snake: on his cuffs is a snake pattern, as well as the heel of his high heels (which again, have red eyes). Connotations of snake include feelings of confidence and elegance, and are closely connected to medicine -- venom was assumed to have heeling and divine properties, even connections to the fabled "elixir of life". Note Asclepius, the god of medicine, handling a snake in many of his depictions. However, snakes within biblical passages are seen as incarnations of evil: to tempt Adam and Eve, Satan turned into a talking serpent. Blod is meant to be a safe haven, but his clothes show the tempter beneath, the vampire that deliberately encourages sin and evil without the fear or fretting of getting blood on his hands because of the power that he was born with.

Thank you for reading! This took a very veryy long time to prepare due to the small amount of images of them, but I do hope this was an interesting enough analysis! I hope that season 2 of Ex and Bee reveals more about our protagonists (and I hope they release more official art so that I could go more in depth with other outfits)

edit 28/4/25 - grammar+ more specific details

#ex and bee #explorador del luz #blodgrim bloodriven #bjorn dimorgard #えくすびでバニー企画 #❖ fran rambles #❖ fran theories #❖ ex and bee

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aspiringtrashpanda · 6 months ago

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This was born from a conversation with @shootingstarrfish. Yes, Sidra has transcended to a new media (or maybe Ex and Bee and Obey Me! take place is the same universe 👀)

Pairing: Sidra (OC) x Björn Dimorgard C/W: Mentions of blood and menstruation, overall a fluffy fic 2k

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳..˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳..˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳..˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

Clack, clack, clack.

Sidra’s dark nails danced across the keyboard, one letter after the other stitching together a painfully mundane email. It was a message he had written more often than naught, lately.

“Dear [whom it may concern],

It has come to our attention that you are less than satisfied by our service. We regret to inform you that, whether satisfied or dissatisfied with the information gleaned from your case, payment to Del Luz Detective Agency is still required. As experts in the occult, the Del Luz Detective Agency seeks to unveil truth and provide justice, personal bias and the client’s underlying interests aside.

That being said, we successfully [exorcized the malevolent spirit from the subject] and therefore, the Del Luz Detective Agency has upheld the terms of the contract. We expect payment in full, due by [date].

Regards,Del Luz Detective Agency”

Sidra sighed, tapping the backspace key multiple times to correct a spelling error. Sure, he could have used the cursor to pinpoint the mistake, but that would have been faster. If he was being honest, Sidra had too much time to spare. A quick glance to the clock proved it wasn’t even lunch time, and he had already crossed off the one item from their to-do list.

Well, then all there was left to do was input the subject line of the email and…

Clack, clack, clack–DING!

Oh, the potato was ready.

The email submitted into the aether, Sidra pulled themself from their desk and stepped into the tiny kitchen. Or, kitchenette. It was more or less a hotplate, a kettle, a tiny sink and a microwave, the latter which held half of a potato, steaming in the center of a plate.

The clock struck noon just as Sidra stabbed the baked potato with a fork, clumsily shoveling the flaky innards into their mouth while scrolling through social media.

“I thought I smelled a potato,” a familiar voice chirped, a cheery twang characteristic of a smile rounding each consonant.

Sidra glanced up from their phone just as Björn Dimorgard entered the main office, two empty mugs in his hand and a playful glint in his bright eyes. “Ah,” Björn chuckled, “Scraping pennies, are we?”

“As if you didn’t do the same last week,” Sidra scoffed. Perhaps he stabbed the potato with a bit too much force. “Don’t act all high and mighty with me, Bee.”

The resounding snicker was warm. As warm as honey. Sidra kept their scowl firmly in place, despite the tickle in their chest. Bee fiddled with the kettle, shook the jar of instant coffee. He pursed his lips in thought as he began to ladle a spoon, and then another, into the mugs, “Do you want a coffee?”

Sidra immediately grabbed a fresh mug, their many rings clinking against the smooth ceramic. He slid it across the narrow counter, towards Bee’s waiting spoonful of grinds. “Hit me.”

Internally, Sidra wondered what he was on. He didn’t even often drink coffee.

As Bee poured the boiled water into the mugs, stirring swiftly with an intense concentration that was not necessarily required, Sidra thought he noticed Bee’s nostrils flare. Bee stilled, the swish of his spoon faltering for a moment as his eyes darted towards Sidra. “Do you…? Nevermind.”

He ducked his head, continued whisking the instant coffee as if nothing had happened. Sidra frowned. “What is it?”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Bee’s tinted glasses glinted in the faint sunlight filtering through the cheap blinds cloaking the agency’s windows. It did not escape Sidra how Bee straightened all of a sudden, his spine shocked by some otherworldly instinct as he tried to change the subject, “Uh, did you find that receipt for the gas top-up?”

“Oh, shit…” Sidra nodded, digging in the pockets of their oversized cardigan. The garment was so much larger than their other clothes–the stuffy button-up shirt and slightly too long slacks. At least he could wear their sneakers here, and Ex never complained. Today, Sidra had gone so far as to fasten a cartoon button pin to their shirt collar. It bore a mottled black and white pattern, with bold pink text screaming “Panda-monium”. Bee had laughed in response that very morning.

It wasn’t the first receipt pulled from Sidra’s pockets. Or the third. But, it was the sixth, and that was an improvement from the other day when it had taken eleven whole receipts from the abyss of Sidra’s cardigan pockets before they reached the stationary bill from earlier in the week.

Bee shuffled closer, the scent of coffee clinging to the faux fur of his jacket. Peering over Sidra’s shoulder, Bee hummed, “Gas has gone up in price, eh?”

Sidra managed to shrug, despite the spike in their blood pressure. “Alas, there’s little I can do about that.”

“You could go to the gas station across town.”

“And waste more gas in the process?”

“Fair,” Bee sighed, though his lips curled into an amused smile.

Sidra teased, “I suppose this means I’m not getting a raise anytime soon.”

Bee puffed his cheeks out, his brow furrowing in a manner that made him look like a very disgruntled chipmunk. “I’m trying. I swear.”

“I know,” Sidra held their breath as they knocked their shoulder against Bee’s bicep, the unknown response sending a jolt of adrenaline through their veins. “I’m just teasing.”

Sidra had expected a loud chuckle. One of Bee’s carefree, jingling laughs, at best. At worst, Bee would tense up, sputter an excuse, and stumble back into Ex’s office. Nothing more.

So, it was downright bizarre when Bee managed to do both.

His entire frame stiffening, a nervous giggle spilled from the back of his throat, his right hand flying up to not only cover his nose, but also put space between the two of you. He took two, staggering steps backwards, bright eyes blown wide beneath the tinted lenses of his glasses. “Um,” Sidra froze, “Is something the matter?”

It was then that Bee keeled over, palms to his knees as he took three deep breaths. Shoulders shuddering with each exhale, Bee arched his back like a cat, rolling his neck like there was an itch somewhere that he couldn’t quite scratch.

Sidra’s heart leapt into his throat. He longed to push forward, to make sure Bee was okay.

Though, he hesitated.

Sidra had only known Björn for a handful of months. Three, to be exact, for Sidra has just cleared probation at the Del Luz Detective Agency. Still, in that small time period, he felt as though he had become decently close with Björn. Close enough to share lunch at the café across the street on occasion. Close enough to call him “Bee”. Close enough to know that Bee was an honest-to-god vampire, in every sense of the word.

Close enough that Sidra had developed a big fat crush as well, but that was neither here nor there.

It didn’t matter, for Bee seemed to be in some sort of…pain? Confusion? Intense contemplation? Sidra couldn’t quite tell.

When Bee lifted his head, his hand lifting just to heavily thud onto the kitchenette counter, fingers curling against the cheap vinyl, Sidra flinched.

Bee’s pupils were dilated. More dilated than Sidra had ever seen before. Bee’s light eyes were unusually dark, his breathing labored as he fretted, “Do you, um, do you smell blood at all?”

Sidra blinked, the question so far off his radar that he almost laughed. “Blood? Uh… no?”

“It’s, um…” Bee pulled himself up, his jacket slipping from his shoulders as he took a dramatic inhale, his blown eyes fluttering closed. “It’s sweet.”

It was an unconscious movement, the way Sidra shuffled backwards, putting space between himself and the very real vampire before him. As he watched Bee’s lashes bat slowly, almost hypnotically, flashing over eyes heavy with an animalistic desire, Sidra felt his heart hitch, his pulse thrum through his veins with an increased ferocity.

“Almost like…” Bee leaned forward, his grip on the counter sending the slightest spiderweb of a splinter across the surface. That’s what they got for furnishing their office at IKEA. Bee closed the distance between them, his nose nuzzling at the collar of Sidra’s shirt. It was barely even a whisper, but Sidra heard him murmur, “...honey.”

“Oh,” Sidra’s voice pitched higher as he rocked back on his heels, the realization pushing blood to his face. “Um, it’s me.”

Bee let out a strange sound, something akin to a whine as he pulled away from Sidra’s neck. There was this fog of desire in his eyes that managed to eclipse the restraint that racked his body in untimed shudders. Through grit, sharp teeth, Bee echoed, “You? But…how? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” Sidra gulped and if this wasn’t their worst nightmare (dream? Perhaps), he wasn’t sure what was. Vaguely gesturing downwards, Sidra pointedly avoided eye contact, muttering, “It’s, uh…”

“Oh.” Bee followed the direction of Sidra’s gesture, his eyes going impossibly wide as he understood. “Oh.”

Sidra wanted to bury his own grave and lay in it. “Yeah.”

Still, Bee didn’t seem… Well, he didn’t react as Sidra had expected. There was no ounce of judgment in his big, dark, thirsty eyes, only curiosity and thinly, thinly veiled hunger. He was leaning closer, invading Sidra’s space again before Sidra could react. This time, his knee knocked just above Sidra’s, his weight leaning heavily on his prosthetic as he brought his face down to Sidra’s ear.

“You drank tea this morning, didn’t you?” Warm breath, light laughter fluttered the pink hair at Sidra’s nape. Bee spoke in such a friendly manner, “Black tea, with a bit of milk. I can smell it on you.”

If Sidra closed their eyes, they were sure they would think nothing was out of the ordinary, based on Bee’s tone and Bee’s tone alone. But his proximity, his warmth, the way the counter creaked beneath his vice grip reminded Sidra of the way the worst week of the month had sung like a siren, had lapped at Bee’s ankles and pulled him into Sidra’s depths.

There was this playful longing in Bee’s voice as he surmised, “And… a pastry. With chocolate? Mmm…”

Sidra ceased breathing. He didn’t need to breathe anymore. He had died and moved on to the after life, right? Why else would Björn Dimorgard be draped over them, practically nuzzling their neck in intoxicated affection?

If he was dead, well, who said he couldn’t enjoy it? Relaxing into the heat emanating from Bee’s body, leaving over Sidra’s like a protector, like someone who wished to keep Sidra all to himself, Sidra allowed themself to revel in Bee’s closeness, in the crisp scent of fresh citrus shampoo and the undertone of stale, cheap, instant coffee clinging to his jacket.

And then, just before Sidra considered lifting a hand, placing it on Bee’s waist to see what would happen, Bee stepped back. A sheepish blush painted his pretty face, his smile drawing attention to his cute, elongated canines. “Ah, I’m sorry!” It was a breezy laugh, but Sidra could hear the disappointment lingering beneath. Bee shrugged, “I’m getting a little carried away, aren’t I?”

“You can…” It took everything in their power to chase after Bee, to follow his steps as he put space between them. There was something coiling inside Sidra. Something dark, and desperate, and–

“Bee!”

Surprise lanced like lightning across Björn’s face, shocking his system and knocking him out of his trance. Brushing his nose with the back of his hand, knuckles catching on the slightly crooked tip, Bee offered Sidra a brilliant smile. “Looks like that’s my cue!”

He turned on his heel, grabbed the two mugs of cooling coffee and sped towards the office door. With his hand on the door knob, he hesitated, shooting Sidra a guilty frown. “Hey, uh, maybe take the week off?”

Sidra faltered, glancing at their reception desk, the calendar red with many, many appointments in the coming days. “Huh? What about Ex?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Bee worried his bottom lip, his fang hooking on the flesh like the cutest snaggletooth. He caught Sidra staring, and–as if it wouldn’t stop Sidra’s heart–had the audacity to wink. “Can’t be acting all unprofessional, right?”

But goodness, how Sidra wished Bee would.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳..˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳..˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳..˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

My first foray into into Ex and Bee fanfic! Woo!

#aspiringtrashpanda #ex and bee #ex and bee fanfic #bjorn dimorgard #Bjorn dimorgard x oc #Starr I love sidra and i've adopted him

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