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randombtsprincessa · 3 years

Text

Bewitched Fools || 01

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 3.7k

Genre: Arranged Marriage AU! Pride & Prejudice AU! Angst, Smut, Fluff

Rating: Mature

Summary: Kim Namjoon’s wedding proposal is a shock to you. Your acceptance is a shock to everyone else. You have no good opinions of him, and you’re sure he has none of you. So why did he marry you? Everyday spent into your new marriage reminds you that sometimes a person isn’t just their first impressions.

Content Advisory (in-chap): Somewhat controlling and toxic parenting, neurotic mothers, sarcastic fathers (it’s a PnP AU, you get it), talk of arranged marriages, mentions of a secret scandal (just wait lol), and an actual wedding, wedding night but no smut! THERE IS NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER, Namjoon comes off mean,ok, yeah, he’s gonna be a bit douchey but yk, PnP!

Credits: Thank you to my baby @serooks for being my soundboard and a second pair of eyes for this whirlwind idea!!! Banner by yours truly!

A/N: Well, what can I say? I was reading PnP...again and I just thought, this is like during the seperation based passion of the Regency, right? What would happen if it was set in modern times with not such a far off relationship?) Really though, I’m going to be crying about this a lot till it ends! Hopefully my muses behave!

Chapter 1: Wedding Bells

“And of course, we must have a word with the photographer, at the very latest by the day after tomorrow! I want to be sure he knows what is expected of his people. After all, this is not a simple wedding that he’s covering. I don’t know what slip-shod work is okay with the people these days, but I will not abide by anything other than perfection.”

“Quite so dear, I’m sure the photographer needs his directions drilled into him...Why else did we pay twenty five thousand for it?”

You dug your fork into the pasta on your plate, unable to help rolling your eyes at the way your mother squinted at your father - trying to discern if he was being sarcastic. He was, of course, there was little that your father dealt with with anything other than biting wit. Your mother was at the top of the list.

You wondered for the nth time about how they were still together - but you supposed the existence of you and your sister was enough to bind two of the most incompatible people in life.

Beside you, you felt your sister place her always gentle hand on your knee under the table; a light squeeze telling you she was there and she understood.

You gulped your food, shooting a smile at her, trying to convey that you understood her as well, if not on the same level. Your sister, Yongsun, had a degree of optimism about life that you could never have, and you didn’t even want to try.

You couldn’t deny that Yongsun’s optimism half stemmed from the fact that her life had been planned out for her ever since she was laid into her cradle at home. And with her gentle and calm disposition paired with your mother’s hyperactive energy, there was pretty much nothing she could do but roll with it. She had had to keep her happy-go-lucky persona up, never picking a fight against the fate that had been planned for her.

Your parents had tried that with you as well. And for a short while, you had gone with it with no complaints, in the steps of your perfect elder sister.

You schooled in one of the most exclusive boarding houses in the city, a scholarship was guaranteed by the tuitions thrown at you, and you attended university at the top name in the next city over - a different one from your sister’s of course. It was the way your parents had wanted it; to develop different social circles for their daughters.

That had been their one blunder in their designs for you.

Away from your sister, you had soon seen how strange your upbringing had been. You never called them out on it, still playing the perfect little girl at home but when you moved out finally, it was clear to your parents that your focus had shifted from what they wanted.

Yongsun, of course, had stayed on with your parents until they brought the perfect match for her.

She had accepted and was soon engaged at a lavish party, happy and entranced with her new fiancé while you worked hard to keep the smear of your own scandal away from the now married pair.

Kim Seokjin; and you spoke in complete honesty; was the best thing to happen to Yongsun. He was a bright businessman, and he offered Yongsun a safe haven away from the dramas of your family. You’d forever be grateful to him for that.

Of course, Yongsun wanted the same for you. She wanted to see you in the arms of a secure and stable man, who would mend the pieces of you that still remained broken. But most of all, she wanted you taken away from your parents as well, away from the suffocation they brought. Your little apartment wasn’t enough to keep your mother away and out after the ‘incident’.

Marriage was the only thing that would stop her from hovering over you now and you were sure Yongsun thought that was the reason why you had agreed to marry...him.

Kim Namjoon…

The first time you had laid eyes on Kim Namjoon was at Yongsun’s engagement party. He had been dressed simple, way too simply - and you hadn’t even recognized him for who he was until you were introduced.

You weren’t shocked that Seokjin had invited Namjoon - after all, Seokjin’s business was an endeavor under Kim Namjoon’s banner. You were surprised that he showed up, in a plain black blazer that screamed quiet luxury. Apparently, they were very close friends...even distantly related.

All of that would’ve made Mr. Kim and you converse further, if not for the fact that Kim Namjoon was a complete and utter ass. He reeked of pride and a superiority complex to match your mothers’. He turned his nose at the guests, his gaze was just slightly disgusted and the thing that made you put him in the ‘DO NOT INTERACT’ list was the fact that he had witnessed your ‘incident.’

As sympathetic as your family had been towards you after finding out what happened, it never occurred to you to tell them about Namjoon’s behavior. You had expected them to be aware of it already, because they had hosted the damn party and should’ve paid attention.

Be that as it may, they were happy to maintain acquaintance with Kim's extended friends and family - and you were fine with it, as long as they kept you far away from the mingling.

But of course, they went ahead and announced you as an eligible bachelorette to their circle. It hadn’t even been a full week after the engagement party.

Yongsun liked to believe they just wanted to see their girls safe and secure. You politely declined. This was the 21st century for god’s sake, you didn’t need marriage to be safe and secure.

No, you were quite privy to your family’s true desire under the guise of getting you married. It was a way of asserting themselves yet again, and also to make sure you didn’t pull the stunt as you had...which had resulted into the hushed up scandal at Yongsun’s party.

So when Kim Namjoon’s proposal came, straight to you for that matter; you were both shocked and very, very intrigued.

However, no one was as shocked or surprised as your family when you actually accepted the proposal. You wished you could get a snapshot of your mother’s gaping mouth when you announced the proposal and the subsequent acceptance, which you had already emailed - yes, emailed - to him.

“But you...I thought you hated him?” Your father gathered his equanimity enough to ask.

You hadn’t managed to craft a good enough answer for that, except for a simple “Of course, I don’t.” Truth be told, despite resolving to never interact with the man, you didn’t actually know him enough to hate him.

And you were sure the same was true on his part.

Even as Yongsun hugged you tightly when you told her, and Jin walked around the kitchen island to shake your hands in congratulations over his wife’s shoulder, you wondered.

Why did he propose to you?

Yeah, you were supposedly an eligible single woman in the social circles of the city you lived in, but Namjoon was...well, he was Kim Namjoon. Surely you weren’t as eligible as to match for him, despite your mother’s expert lobbying?

You didn’t understand his reasons, especially when you’d always thought that he was dating Jin’s sister, Jinhyo.

But Yongsun was happy, Jin approved, and he would provide you some solace from your mother’s constant nagging and your poor father’s burden.

For that - just that - a breath of fresh air, you could ignore his reasons and marry him for yours.

Live and let live, right?

You held true to your resolution of ‘ignorance was bliss’ right to your wedding day.

In the lavish resort that Namjoon and you and your parents paid for, you stood in the bridal suite, on a raised platform as your mother and sister fussed over your hem with the seamstress.

“I’m just saying, it shouldn’t look like she’s drowning in fabric.” Your mother was sighing away at the end ruffles on the dress.

“Mother please,” You sighed, ignoring the glare she sent your way.

As far as you were concerned, the dress was heavenly. It was the right blend of traditional and unconventional that you had wanted to incorporate.

While Yongsun’s wedding dress had been the purest of white to signify her angelic being, yours was powder blue.

With heavy and stiff folds falling to the floor in a fantastic skirt, the torso rose up sheer from the ruffles, embellished with roses of sapphire thread and rhinestones. It was magnificent and you had dropped a pretty penny on it - it was your something new and blue combined.

If you had to be tied down to someone you didn’t even know, you’d rather look good doing it.

In your pretty dress, with a bouquet of simple white roses clutched in your hand, you told yourself again to ignore the reasons so obscure to you. You had your own reasons that Namjoon was probably not concerned by and that was what you were gearing for in this marriage.

Something nagged at you at the thought, though.

You were by no means a petty person, and while your aversion to your soon-to-be husband was mostly due to your embarrassment and his own behaviour, you could at least try to be friends.

You wondered how he would want this marriage to be.

Did he want to be friends? Or did he want complete solitude from you? Were you to be strangers, existing in their own bubbles, with the marriage as just a cushion to block any potential falls?

At a point of time, you’d have been loath to ask yourself such questions, but times change and so do people. You were well aware of the fact that you needed this; even if you were treating it as a distraction.

Realizing that you were thinking way too much of the exact things you’d sworn not to, you pulled your mind towards the beautiful venue and the people who had come to see you be wed.

The place was Namjoon’s idea, somewhere not connected to his business as he had mentioned in his emails. Somewhere where he could show that he had spent money on his wedding, instead of just putting it up as a personal expense in his own ledgers.

You could respect that.

You heard your best friend scoffing in your mind. Jisoo was your college best friend, and had been the third party privy to your sudden engagement. She had understood your reasons, but she was intrigued by Namjoon - to put it plainly, suspicious of him.

She was somewhere down below, acting as your second pair of eyes. While you trusted your sister, you knew your mother all too well. Jisoo was to prevent any last minute changes that would surprise you.

“Hey,”

You started, looking up from the vanity mirror to see the door to your suite open and reveal Kim Jiah.

Kim Jiah looked a lot like her brother, especially with the dimples and pouty lips. And she had none of the more revolting aspects of the Kim line. She was sweet, patient, tolerant, and well-spoken. She was quietly clever and had overtaken the slack her brother had left her with with perfect grace.

She was also your maid of honor.

She also liked you best - and that endeared her to you far more than any rewarding traits could ever hope to.

Jiah stood behind you in her silver mermaid dress, fingers busily fluffing up the veil to lie over your hair without any folds.

“My mother just called. She said she couldn’t make it but she sent her best wishes and gifts.”

There was an absent smile on her face, flickering when she caught your perusal in the mirror. You sighed, reaching for the ring on your finger - your engagement ring.

Rose gold, with your favorite flowers engraved into the metal and a large princess cut diamond nestling in the girdle. You won’t lie and say you didn’t love it. It was simple, but elegant and just that perfect bit out of the ordinary that you liked.

You had gazed at it in awe for a good many moments before Namjoon had reached for your hand, months ago - sliding it over your finger with little to no pomp.

You knew Jiah meant that her mother simply didn’t plan to attend and that any gifts from her name were actually coming from Jiah and Namjoon’s own pocket.

Reasons...reasons...they all have their own reasons…

You hadn’t wanted this for yourself…

It felt as if you were beginning to float somewhere just at the tip of your head, especially when your mother, sister and Jisoo came to help Jiah get you to the double doors.

Your father stood by, his keen eyes studying your slightly zoned out eyes before giving one of his patent resigned sighs, offering you his arm.

The double doors opened to a white carpeted pathway, stretching till the other end of the room. Your vision was suddenly filled with white, creams, blues and the glint of glass and crystal. It was ethereal - an affair worthy of the Fae, or at the very least a Kim wedding.

And it was everything you had once envisioned for yourself - perhaps a bit toned down.

Yet it was everything that you were only getting at the cost of what you truly had wanted.

Love.

There would be none of that here, you realized, when you took the steps, your father’s arm tightening under your hand with each footfall.

There would only be awkward exchanges, and maybe, maybe a camaraderie that would allow you to at least laugh with the man you would be sharing your life with.

You realised this when you focused on Kim Namjoon - already at the altar, in a satin blue suit to match yours. His hands were joined to his front, and there was a mild smile on his face, one for the cameras.

It wasn’t for you, and there certainly wasn’t any joy in his eyes.

Why was he doing this?

To his side, you say your brother in law, Jin and while he gave you a bracing smile when your eyes met, you had seen the look he had had in his eyes at his own wedding.

Yongsun had been a vision, and though she was behind you now, her husband had clearly shown his emotions then.

When you were finally there, at the base of the altar and your father - was it you, or was he perhaps reluctant - handed Namjoon your hand, he only radiated quiet and cold.

You didn’t gaze at your fiancé too long, and he didn’t even keep his eyes on you for more than the second that it took him to make sure you looked fit to be standing next to him.

When the ceremony started, your conscience decided to ascend even further than your crown. You were out of your body, staring anguished at the handsome man whose face was mask like now that no cameras faced him (he had asked for the media to not be present for the actual ceremony). Beside him stood a woman who had the same mask on her face, waxy, beautiful with make up but the gulps of nervousness obvious in her throat.

Why were you doing this?

You were a robot, a pretty doll that smiled and spoke her vows, said ‘I do’ and received Namjoon’s emotionless and business-like peck with a similar energy to match it.

You were his doll now, his robot.

And you demonstrated it well, especially during the first customary dance as husband and wife. He towered over you, the buttoned coat of his suit in your vision as you kept your head down. His hold on your hand and waist were barely noticeable and there was way too much distance between your bodies - considering you were now married.

You glanced up at him curiously, wondering if maybe his face spoke of something that you might analyse. Sadly, there was nothing.

He did look down at you, a swift glance that was cut off when he caught your eye. He looked back up and didn’t look at you again till the song ended.

You separated quickly, Namjoon dropping your hand when you reached the edge of the dancing floor. You steeled yourself to return the favor and not look at him for the rest of the evening but it was hard, especially when you had so many questions for him, and for yourself.

You wondered if you would ever get the answers to them.

And it was even harder, when after the father-daughter and mother-son dances - which he danced with his sister - Namjoon was found by Jin’s sister and your own cousin, Lilah.

You watched from the bridal bench, your face still emotionless as Jinhyo laughed and clutched at Namjoon’s shoulder - as Lilah poked at her new cousin-in-law without abandon.

You glanced at Jisoo, her eyes already on you. She waved her glass of wine but you shook your head quickly - you didn’t want to deal with another ‘incident’ at your own wedding.

You were soon going to be cutting off most of your family. This was one thing you could allow your mother. She wanted Lilah there despite what she’d done to you. You could stay mum for long enough to be done with this.

Besides, even if Namjoon had repeated your vows word for word, it didn’t bind him to them. Neither were you bound to yours, and you could care less about what he did with who.

All you wanted out of this was half the peace you had had before.

So you only reached for the wine glass that was next to you, your eyes catching your wedding ring - rose gold again. You could endure quiet disdain for them as long as they left you alone.

It was 12:34 AM when you managed to stumble into the other suite. This one was the biggest suite the resort offered, the most expensive, the most luxurious. It was supposed to be your “wedding night suite” and you could feel the bile pooling in the back of your mouth when you’d caught Lilah grinning at the back of the party.

Jisoo and Yongsun had come up with you, but you had waved Jiah off. You knew what your best friend was going to say the first thing when you were alone and you did not want Jiah to hear about that.

“What a fucking bitch!”

“Good god, Jisoo, please,” Yongsun hushed immediately but you remained quiet, only managing a smile when Jisoo ignored Yongsun and clamped a hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t believe your mother pulled that. I can’t believe I missed it. I am so sorry, Y/N.”

You patted her hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Soo, really. I am not even mad, I won’t have to look at her face after this.”

Jisoo cast a look at Yongun who nodded before sighing in resignation. “Fine, but if she shows up at your home, I better find you kicking her ass.”

The three of you chuckled at that, even Yongsun joining in, for your sake.

But then, you were trudged into this room and now you were alone, the sound of their laughter nothing but a ghost.

You went exploring first thing.

The suite was enormous, the entrance leading into a comfortable living space. There was a walk-in closet at the side where you saw your suitcase already deposited. And there were two bedrooms.

It was a family suite, you realized, in confusion, turning to look at the closed doors of the two rooms.

Why would Kim Namjoon get a room with two bedrooms for a wedding night? Was Jiah going to be staying with you? No, that was impossible, she was booked with the wedding party.

So, why…

Lodging it under questions you would have to ask your new husband you walked into the bigger bedroom. You dragged off the wedding dress, smiling sadly at it before leaving it in the corner of the walk-in closet.

To your relief, Jisoo had snuck some of your own clothes into the suitcase that your mother had packed. Amid the disgustingly obnoxious lingerie, were your ratty koala pajamas.

You almost sobbed. You almost called Jisoo to tell her she was your fucking godsend.

But you refrained.

You fetched one of the champagne flutes from the minifridge and the bottle and poured the first brim while you switched on the TV and settled in to wait.

And wait…

And wait some more…

It was almost a full hour later when the door opened again, beeping the arrival of the second inhabitant.

You jumped where you sat, your eyes staring at the reruns of Tom & Jerry that you had been slowly laughing at while you sipped at the flute.

You were careful to not empty it, worried he might want some but it had warmed since then.

Namjoon’s suit jacket was off, the matching vest unbuttoned and the tie pulled loose. His hair was longer since Yongsun’s engagement party, you realized - now that your wits had returned to you. His bangs hung over his forehead as he kicked off his shoes, the ash blond shining with perspiration.

You switched off the TV, getting to your feet - hovering, in case he wanted something.

Did you dread his attention?

When Namjoon finally looked at you, those piercing dark eyes studying your cartoon printed night clothes impassively, you opened your mouth.

What were you going to say? Were you going to say ‘hi’? Were you going to pose one of your many questions first thing on your wedding night?

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to be bothered with catering to me tonight.”

Namjoon turned away from you, a swift glance towards the opened master bedroom door, making his feet lead towards the other bedroom.

He opened the door, shaking his hair with his hand and closed it behind himself.

You stared after him, at the shut door, eyes slightly wide.

Slowly, you sunk back down into the couch, your reflection in the now blackened TV screen.

Well, at least that answered one question.

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silversatoru · 3 years

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megumi + gaslighting / iq reduction

pls mr fushiguro, undermine my intelligence every day, purposely keep me unstimulated until im ur dumb, dependent plaything ❤️

a present for you when you get off the plane <3 i took a slightly diff approach to this and i know ur degree is very much not related to science but science is all i know,, so idk,, pretend u were a bio major or something for the sake of this fic okay

megumi + gaslighting/iq reduction

tw: nsfw 18+, f!reader, college-student!reader x professor!megumi, dark content, gaslighting, heavy manipulation, iq reduction, dumbification, slight misogyny?

wc: 1.3k

you still remember the first day of mr. fushiguro’s class, and the way he seemed to pick on you of all people — the way he asked you to stay after class and immediately offered you a position on his team of research students. you remember questioning why he chose you instead of someone else, to which he affirmed that no one had quite the credentials that you did. and you were left wondering how he could possibly judge that on the very first day of classes.

you still remember the first time you showed up to the lab for said research group, the straps of your bag clutched nervously in your clammy palms. mr. fushiguro was a young but incredibly esteemed professor, and this was going to look great on your transcript, so you were nothing but a ball of excited jitters. and you were smart! you knew you’d be an excellent addiction to this team of students, and you were grateful for the opportunity.

or so you thought; but it quickly became apparent that you weren’t nearly as prepared as you thought you were. it seemed like everything you did was wrong — all of your experiment results were compromised, lacked accuracy, and were always rejected. it seemed like all the other students were excelling, and mr. fushiguro loved them — but he was always so frustrated with you.

if only you knew the frustration was a front. if only you realized that every experimental result you got was right, that every answer and every theory you came up with was painfully accurate. if only you knew that your struggles were entirely fabricated by mr. fushiguro and his ulterior motives.

eventually he made the recommendation that you do some remediation with him — a few one-on-one sessions to help sharpen your skills so you can contribute more to his research. so of course you said yes! because you wanted nothing more than to be helpful and you couldn’t understand what you were doing wrong.

so you attended the tutor sessions with your dark-haired professor; but they were less about learning and more about brutal criticism of your skills. mr. fushiguro berated and insulted your intelligence several times, making you falter at his words and wonder what you ever did to deserve to be involved in his research project in the first place.

“i just don’t think you’re cut out for this, ms. l/n”.

maybe you really weren’t cut out for this.

“your lack of skills has surprised me, i can’t say i’m not disappointed in your performance so far”.

you were disappointed in yourself too.

“you’ll have to put in a lot of extra work if you want to stay on the team”.

you’d do whatever it took.

you were always bright, always excelled in your science-related classes, so what was happening to you? why were you the weak link of his research group? why were you on the verge of failing his class? why was everything suddenly so hard?

you didn’t mean to break down in front of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choked back sobs and hid your face behind your hands. it’d been building up for a while now: your frustration, your sudden lack of self-confidence, your feelings of inadequacy; they were all overflowing. but mr. fushiguro showed you zero sympathy, staring down at you with icy eyes and not a shred of mercy. you were exactly where he wanted you, and he was about to seal the deal.

“i really expected more from you”

those were the words that broke you in half, your fear of failure becoming all to real in that moment. but his next words halted your tears and created a small shred of hope in your despair.

“but i do want to help you. my door is open to you anytime. i have practice questions and study methods that i’m happy to share with you”.

and so here you were, anxiously sitting at his kitchen table trying to solve a few problems that he’d given you to practice. but you couldn’t seem to figure them out no matter how hard you tried — brain frying as you tried and failed over and over.

but it was all exactly as it was supposed to be — the problems were never solvable in the first place — there were no right answers — they were simply meant to melt your little brain.

you came back to his house time and time again, and each study session was worse than the last. you were never able to figure anything out on your own, you always needed his help, you couldn’t do anything without him.

it was no shocker when you began to admire him, depend on him, feel like you couldn’t do any schoolwork on your own. his months of manipulation were finally paying off, you were finally a dumb little thing who had no self confidence and who was constantly begging for his help. and he was happy to provide that for you, but you were going to have to start making it worth his time — his expert help doesn’t come for free.

you’re not sure what possessed you to agree, to have his cock lodged in the back of your throat while he groaned and leaned back in his seat — but you needed his help, this was just a small price to pay. you’d bob your head and choke on his tip as it pressed into your esophagus as if your future depended on it, because at this point, it kind of did.

but the prices kept getting steeper; eventually a quick blow wasn’t enough to appease mr. fushiguro. he wanted more. if you wanted to keep his help you needed to be face down and bent over his kitchen table — and so that’s exactly what you did.

brain foggy and knees aching your sweaty fingers grasped at the smooth table top as he took you from behind. his strained cock dragged against your sopping walls, your ass nearly bruising from how hard he was fucking himself into you. whimpers and moans overflowed from your lips as your bare tits pressed into empty worksheets — the two of you had completely glossed over the “studying” portion of your night tonight, skipping right to your payment.

you could barely even think straight, your head spinning with endorphins as you cried out in response to the tip of his cock kissing against your cervix. his fingers dug into the sides of your hips, pressing little red circles into your skin from how hard he grasped at you. your were shaking, your entire body pulsing with bliss each time he thrusted up into your cunt.

he was so happy with himself, balls deep inside one of the smartest students who had ever graced his classroom. he’d taken a girl with so much potential it was sickening, and convinced her that she was worthless, reduced her to a less than average student who was desperate enough to take her professor’s cock in exchange for better grades. you were pathetic, embarrassing even, laying here on your stomach and babbling complete nonsense while he filled you up.

all it took was patience and a sprinkle of manipulation to get you like this. to make you a dumb little fuck toy who came to his house several times a week under the guise of getting help with class work.

and he’d keep this up until you could barely even think for yourself — reducing you to a brainless little pet who deserves to be stuffed with cum and nothing else.

you didn’t belong in STEM, you didn’t belong in a university in general — you belonged right here on his kitchen table, your face sitting in a puddle of your own drool.

you were stupid, or at least he convinced you that you were so much so that you actually became it.

#dark content mini event #tw dark content #tw manipulation #tw dumbification #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #silver.nsfw

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years

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A Lost Tomb Meta Argument for the Bond Between Liu Sang and Wu Xie

Listen. Liu Sang may get all clever and snarky at Wu Xie with passive aggressive one-liners at first (Lucille Bluth voice: good for him), but here I want to talk about how the progress of LTR and their own personalities point to them developing a really sweet friendship over the series.

Note: I haven’t read the books, just seen snippets, so I know there are things here that won’t hold up to the source text; I’m doing this meta based on the show alone, apologies for any confusion or big anachronisms to the book.

1.) They are both defensive, snarky, and wary people whose life experiences have made them this way. Wu Xie hides it far better behind his charm and smiles, plus he does usually have his iron triangle and family support to fall back on. But I like that when Liu Sang confronts Wu Xie over the whole “you’re dying and in a dangertomb dude wtf” thing, you get to see the look on his face right after Wu Xie responds being all “bitch try me I will deny everything”— Liu Sang actually looks pleasantly surprised by it, and keeps his mouth shut until the situation becomes too obvious. That face in that moment isn’t confusion or fear, that’s some straight-up recognition. Like, oh shit, he’s still annoying but it’s weird now because I totally get him and appreciate that he has a spine after all. Liu Sang is a stranger here, he just met Wu Xie like 12 hours ago, but somehow he understands him perfectly in that moment and I appreciate that acknowledgment of kinship.

2.) Beneath all the prickliness, they are both soft at heart. Wu Xie had ten years of hell to transform into a excellent liar and actor, Liu Sang’s backstory is trauma after betrayal after trauma. But we see how they are both capable of extraordinary goodness—the first time we meet Liu Sang, he awkwardly tries to help a small child he believes is in danger, and later becomes a member of the squad despite his half-hearted efforts not to like them. Liu Sang’s loyalty, once earned, is powerful and unconditional. Wu Xie’s best (and most double edged) qualities are, as I’ve discussed before, his compassion, love and loyalty, and these qualities overwhelm his guardedness over and over again in the series. Despite that coldly pragmatic Wu mindset he sometimes develops, what ultimately drives Wu Xie and what makes the show is his passion for adventure and love for his people.

3.) Xiao Ge. The Venn diagram betwixt our two foxes. There’s a reason the Wu Xie/Xiao Ge/Liu Sang tag is alive and well. Honestly though, they both gravitate towards Xiao Ge at first due to their fascination with him, but Wu Xie has had the benefit of getting to know Xiao Ge much sooner and in a different capacity and is already his boyfriend one of the very few people who’s truly close to Xiao Ge. He is himself possessive over Xiao Ge to a degree—I’ve seen some hilarious jealous-Wu Xie posts—but I think a lot of it stems from a place of long familiarity that has been hard-won. Liu Sang starts from a place of what he admits is idolization, but I think a turning point happens early on in the tombs, when he admits to Xiao Ge that he played a trick on Pangzi and Wu Xie that indirectly got them into trouble. Liu Sang’s expression shows that he knows how foolish this joke makes him look now that something bad has happened, even though they both know he didn’t mean any real harm. BUT. He owns up anyway to do the right thing. Like Wu Xie, Liu Sang is a person whose pride can get the best of him, but who is capable of casting it aside once he realizes it’s a problem. He then shifts gears and uses his ability not to impress Xiao Ge but to help save Wu Xie and Pangzi. He then chooses to follow the group at a distance from then on rather than trying to still stick to Xiao Ge’s side. I don’t think it’s really just fear of Pangzi, as is claimed by that character in the show—I think it’s more awkwardness and even some guilt. Once things change and the friendship grows, Liu Sang is no longer trailing behind. I appreciate that they so clearly come to occupy different places in Xiao Ge’s life—his soulmate and his protege—but they also come to be friends.

4. The realness of their interactions. Liu Sang is the only person in this series who meets Wu Xie for the first time as his present dying heir self, not sweet bebe Wu Xie, not sheltered Tianzhen, and he sees him as he truly is and treats him like a regular person (no disrespect to the marvelous Xiao Bai, but she does put Wu Xie on a pedestal for so much of the series until she knows better). It’s clear that Wu Xie also sees Liu Sang as he is, not just a clever tomb raiding tool or pretty-boy but instead this lonely kid who is human and vulnerable. (I have to wonder to what degree his regret over everything that happened with Li Cu influences how easy he goes on Liu Sang in the show?) He doesn’t react to Liu Sang’s initial sass on the beach, doesn’t really get mad for the trick Liu Sang played in the tomb, and (hilariously) won’t ever let Liu Sang thank him for the instinctive rescue as they are escaping the tombs—they’ve already silently jumped to “it’s cool, I gotcha” status in like three episodes.

Most importantly: I truly believe that once they meet, Li Cu and Liu Sang will form a “how did my life get turned upside down and admittedly way better in the long run due to this insane cardigan-rocking disaster and his equally insane friends” club and that they will have commiseration meetings during parties whenever Li Cu’s Adopted Dad and Liu Sang’s Idol are getting…cozy.

I also have a headcanon that during a random visit to deliver something, Liu Sang learns he now has a room that’s entirely his at Wushanju, fully soundproofed to protect his ears and located by a private door out to the courtyard so he can come and go as he wishes.

#dmbj #the lost tomb #the lost tomb reboot #wu xie #liu sang

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harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

caught in the act // f.w

summary: how do you feel about writing a request for professor!fred and professor!reader bantering like cRaZy at hogwarts a few years after graduation and things just ~happen~ between them both? like maybe they try to one up each other all the time or they just dislike one another OR they're secretly dating but try to hide it from the students but the students know anyway? i don't even care what it is, i just desperately need professor fred k love u BYE

warnings: flirty and steamy, mentions of food

word count: 3.7k

a/n: OK so this idea was stemmed from a very long chat between me, @ickle-ronniekins and @wand3ringr0s3 and it has finally been brought to life! this was so much fun to write and i really hope you all enjoy :) [i do not give consent for my work to be reposted on any platform.]

———————————————————————

The familiar echo of the Hogwarts bell never failed to make you jump out of your skin. Especially when you were currently eyeing a class full of students in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional drop of a quill. Their practice exam required lack of noise to the point where you swore you could hear the movements of your ribs as you inhaled and exhaled.

The ringing sound echoed throughout the class for a short moment, the students in front of you all placing their quills down and forming a line towards your desk, their parchment in hand and some of their faces rather sullen. It was only a practice exam, but the real deal was coming up in a few weeks and revisions were taking up a majority of their free time. You couldn’t tell if their expressions were from the work they just did or from the lack of sleep.

You remembered your exam days at Hogwarts. Long, dreary nights in the common room by the fire until the sun came up, your eyes burning out of your scalp from reading scribbles and notes all night long. Those really were the days, weren’t they?

“I don’t think I did so well, Professor,” one of your students, a fourth year Hufflepuff, said with a defeated tone to his voice, “I couldn’t remember the proper spell.”

You had found it rather odd that for a Charms class, the students had to do a written practice exam. It wasn’t your decision — but you surely questioned it.

“It’s alright, Edwards,” you grinned back, “It’s not the final thing. This will only prepare you for the one you take in two weeks. Remember, that one is a performance exam. If you’ve got your wand movements down, you’ll be all set.”

The boy nodded, no trace of a smile on his face as he turned away and trudged out of the class, his overly heavy backpack hanging off of his shoulder.

A frown formed on your lips as the next student walked towards your desk, a confident smile on her face as she handed you her exam paper, “Have a good day, Professor!”

You were about to wish her a good day in return, but a figure by the door caught your attention instead.

Fred Weasley — or, rather, known to his students as Professor Weasley — stood with his hands in his pockets, his button up shirt tucked tightly into his slacks. His hair was short, standing up and looking soft as ever.

He shot you a quick wink, causing you to shake your head with a small laugh before you returned to collecting exams. You couldn’t give away that you were, indeed, dating a fellow professor. You were sure, due to the countless times you’ve popped in and out of each other’s classes, that some of them were suspicious. But you could hardly think about that too much without getting paranoid.

Your students filed out of the classroom one by one, each of them excited to finally be on lunch break. You could hear a few of them mutter a quick ‘good afternoon, Professor Weasley’ as they passed by him in the doorway, none of them striking any sort of conversation, much to your pleasure.

“And what can I help you with?” you grinned, standing up from your chair and placing a clip around the stack of papers, sitting them down in the corner of your desk so you could remember to take them with you and look at them in your office later in the evening. You much preferred to do your grading and marking at night — you felt much more ‘in the zone,’ so to speak.

He walked over to you, hands still in his pockets, “What? Can’t pay my girl a visit during breaks?”

You scoffed, taking out a large stack of paper from your desk drawer and preparing for the class of sixth years you had after your break. Fred was inching closer to you with each passing second, taking strides with his long legs as if time was running out and he was trying to get to you as soon as possible without running. You stifled a laugh at his movements.

“Considering no one knows I’m your girl, I’d say no,” you replied, giving him a small smirk, “We don’t want to get caught like last time do we?”

You mentally cringed, thinking back to when fellow professor Neville Longbottom caught you and Fred at the Hogwarts staff Christmas party, your bodies nearly flushed to each other and his head dipping down to whisper in your ear. That might not be a giveaway, but considering the nature of Fred’s words and the way your eyes grew wide as you gave him a slap across the chest, it was a bit of a statement. Neville had asked you that night if anything was going on between you two, to which you replied ‘it’s late, I need to leave.’

“Well, it would be a shame for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to be dating the Charms teacher,” he said, a fake grimace on his face, “You’re only the most brilliant person in this entire school. I would be so ashamed if people knew. The highest held Professor, me, dating you, the lowly Charms teacher — a tragedy, really.”

“Oh, excuse me,” you placed a hand over your chest, stepping closer to him and leaning against the edge of your desk, “A shame, you say? I’ll have you know people much prefer my class to yours, anyways. Actually, just this morning, a group of Hufflepuffs told me they liked me best.”

The corner of his lip curved up into a smirk, leaning closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, his hips leaning against yours. You felt his hands slide lower down your back, giving your bottom a quick squeeze.

“Hands off, Freddie,” you poked him in the chest, “This relationship has now become a competition.”

He pursed his lips, “Well, can the academic competition start tomorrow after we perform the, to kindly put it, physical competition in my room tonight.”

You slid away from him, shaking your head, “You are unbelievable.”

“Well, believe it, love,” even though you weren’t facing him, you could hear the smirk in his voice, “This is all yours.”

“Uh, Professor Y/L/N?”

You spun on the spot, colour draining completely from your face. You heard Fred let out an awkward cough, facing the doorway where someone now stood. One of the students from your previous class was standing awkwardly, books in her arms and a confused look on her face.

“Oh, hello, Miss Myers,” you sighed, running a hand down your face, “Professor Weasley, do you mind giving us a moment?” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and the temperature in the room was now a million degrees warmer than it previously was.

Fred grumbled a quick ‘of course,’ and made his way out of the room, turning to give you a wide-eyed expression before closing the door behind him. You let out a deep sigh, falling back into your chair, tossing your hair over your shoulder and looking over at your student.

“Did I interrupt something?” she asked, clearly fighting a grin.

You waved your hand, “No! No,” you tried your best to act nonchalant, letting your student take a seat in front of you, “So, what can I help you with?”

She began expressing her worries for the upcoming exam, all the while you tried giving her the best tips and advice on how to study her charms carefully and safely. You couldn’t count the number of times students had tried their spells outside of the class and had something go horribly wrong. No one wanted to deal with that again.

Though, you kept wondering what she meant by ‘interrupting something.’

You knew that she didn’t mean it in an accusatory manner — you weren’t all cozied up to Fred when she walked in. She couldn’t have seen anything, could she? Even if she did, who would she tell? Headmistress McGonagall was well aware of your relationship with Fred. But she was the only one who knew. You didn’t want to even think about the rumours that would spread if word broke out about your — to put it scandalously — affair.

You honestly weren’t sure what was holding you back from just announcing it. If McGonagall approved, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Thanks for the help, Professor,” Miss Myers’ voice cut your internal rambling short, causing you to shake your head.

“No problem, my door is always open,” you grinned, motioning your hand in the direction of the door. She gave you a bright grin and picked up her backpack, turning to give you a little wave before making her way out of the classroom, once again, the door shutting closed behind her.

A loud groan left your lips before you dropped your head, letting your forehead smack loudly against the hardwood surface.

———————————————————————

The next two weeks felt like a whirlwind. Not only was the end of term approaching as rapidly as ever, but because your fifth years were rushing towards you every hour of the day to prepare for their OWLs, you were feeling rather happy that you only had a few days left before you were out of here. A lot of them seemed to get the hang of their Charms abilities, but many of them still seemed to be a little off. You couldn’t blame them — fifth year was rough — but you really wanted them all to be successful and to pass. Many of your students wanted to go on and be Aurors. A passing Charms mark was kind of a necessity.

“So you’re alright with overlooking the exam?” the Headmistress asked, her pointy hat standing tall on her head as her emerald robes flowed loosely behind her, the two of you walking towards the Great Hall, “You won’t be alone, but I just wanted to double check.”

You grinned, “Of course, it would be my pleasure.”

The walk to the Hall wasn’t long, but you were feeling suddenly anxious. You had poured your heart and soul into the teaching that you had done this year — you only hoped it paid off enough. You didn’t want to disappoint or let your students down. This was the most important exam yet.

The Charms exam was tomorrow at noon, so you weren’t sure why your wand was in a knot just yet, but the anxious bubbles in your stomach hadn’t calmed down over the last few days, to be totally honest.

You walked into the silent Hall, no students present yet, and came to a halt as you spotted the redheaded man standing all the way on the other side.

“Oh, so you’re my ever so lovely companion this afternoon?” he grinned, standing up off of his chair and placing the stack of papers down on the table in front of him, his sweater clinging rightfully to his body and causing you to scan your eyes up and down his figure. He had a pen sticking out from behind his ear and you could see the pleased expression cross his face, even from the other side of the room.

“I suspect you two will behave,” McGonagall said from next to you, her eyes twinkling with some sort of amusement as she gazed between the two of you, eyebrows raised.

“When do I not behave, Minerva?” Fred asked cockily, shoving his hands into his pockets — which suddenly seemed to be a signature move for him. You weren’t really sure where it came from, but you weren’t complaining. It gave him some sort of authoritarian vibe, which was one of the many reasons you felt as if today might be a tough day.

Leaving you and Fred alone, McGonagall left the hall with a quick shake of her head, her little heels clacking loudly. You rolled your eyes, walking over to stand next to him. Even as you walked up the few stairs to the platform, Fred’s height towered over you and caused you to crane your neck up to look him in the eyes.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, his hands finding their way to your lower back, sliding down so that they rested in the bum pockets of your jeans.

“Fred!” you squeaked, giving him a light slap across the bicep before pulling away, “We’ve almost been caught twice. Third time is definitely not the charm, here.”

He let out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating and his eyes crinkling in the corners. You loved the sight of him in a good mood, your heart doing a little flip in your chest as he ran a hand through his hair.

You couldn’t help yourself, leaning up onto your tip toes and pressing a light kiss to his lips, pulling away ever-so-quickly, reaching up and pulling the pen out from behind his ear in the process, putting it down on the little desk next to the chair he was previously seated in.

“Ha! Gotcha,” you grinned, using your index finger to tap his nose lightly.

“Oh, okay,” he nodded, hands immediately finding their way around your waist, “That’s not fair, love.”

His lips quickly found their way down to yours, warm and inviting as always. No matter how many times you kissed him, you never got tired of it. You still got the same amount of tingles and butterflies as you did the first time he kissed you. And that’s not something you ever imagined would change.

“Fred,” you mumbled against his lips, a low groan leaving his throat as you tried your best to wiggle out of his grasp. You could hear the voices of students down the corridor— they were bound to enter the Great Hall any second now. This was not the position you wanted them to see you two in.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbled, pulling away and rolling his eyes. His lips were red and his cheeks were slightly flushed, but he looked as dashing as ever. It was hard for him not to look like this, actually. Something in Fred Weasley’s blood just made him irresistible. You often felt like cursing him out, honestly.

Seconds later, the large door opened and the room was no longer silent. Fred shot you a quick wink, sending your heart into a fluttering frenzy, before you turned to face the oncoming group.

“Good morning!” you announced with a somehow steady voice, “Everyone find your seat so we can begin!”

It took a few minutes, but eventually the group each found their assigned desks and sat down, taking out their quills and parchment.

“You have two hours,” Fred clapped his hands together, echoing loudly throughout the room, “And the two of us will be here if you have any questions. The lovely Professor Y/L/N has volunteered to keep me company, probably because she finds me irresistible—” you rolled your eyes, “—but we’ll both answer any questions you have.”

You looked to the ground, hair falling into your face as you bit your tongue, holding back any snarky remarks towards your idiotic boyfriend. He really wasn’t helping the whole ‘lowkey’ aspect to your relationship.

“Does anyone have any questions before we start?” he asked, lifting his left arm to check the watch on his wrist. You finally peered back up, gazing over at the large clock that was sitting behind you. You immediately regretted not bringing a cup of tea or a snack, but the two hours were bound to fly by. This wasn’t your first time overlooking an exam period, and each time you’ve done this before, it’s never felt like it was dragging on.

“Good luck everyone!” you called out with a smile, clapping your hands together. They all began scribbling away as you finished your sentence, the scratching sound being the only noise you could hear as any previous chatter had now completely ceased.

You walked slowly over to Fred, your hands crossed over your chest as you raised an eyebrow, “Really smooth, you know? Nearly gave us away, you did.”

He shrugged, giving you a lopsided grin, “Oh, come on. Pretty sure half this lot know we’re together anyways. They may be younger, but they’re not completely dim-witted.”

Scoffing and turning your back to the group to face him better, you tried your best to give Fred a serious glare, “None of them are dim-witted, Fred. I’m just saying it would be nice to avoid the drama that comes with public teacher relationships.”

You took a step back as he took one towards you, trying your best to maintain some sort of professional distance. The students might be busy with their work, but that didn’t mean they were blind to the two Professors standing watch at the front of the room.

“I gotta admit, love,” he nodded his head, lowering his voice and leaning in, “the sneaking around has been rather fun.”

His voice sent shivers down your body, goosebumps rising on your skin. You forgot how to breathe for a second, quickly trying your best to regain your composure so the students didn’t see you looking like a fish out of water.

You let out a low cough, clearing your throat and nodding, “It has, hasn’t it?”

The grin on his face was practically contagious, causing the corners of your own lips to turn up before lifting a hand to toss your hair out of your face. You gazed up at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip before pulling it between your teeth, shooting him a wink in the process.

You could see the way his eyes were drawn to your every move, looking at your lips as if in some sort of trance. It caused a little sense of pride to blossom in your chest, to be honest. Fred was often the one who had you locked in a permanent dreamy state. It wasn’t everyday that you had the upper hand.

“Not bloody fair,” he tossed his head back, “Y’know how badly that makes me want to kiss you.”

You smirked, giving him a quick shrug of your shoulders and turning away, swaying your hips as you walked over to the chair that was a few feet away, sitting down comfortably and giving him another wink. You could tell his gaze was on your hips as you walked away — the darker tone in his eyes now locked on you.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

———————————————————————

“You’re a real piece of work, y’know?” he groaned in your ear, leaning over you as you organized the pile of recently collected exams, making sure that Fred’s proximity wasn’t a distraction. You weren’t being overly successful at that last part, though. You could smell his cologne and the warmth of his skin as he stood mere inches away, knowing damn well that he was causing you to stutter in your work.

You had been teasing Fred the entire exam period, sending him winks and lingering looks, even being bold enough to run your hand through his hair at one point, making sure to rake your nails lightly down the nape of his neck, enough to cause his body to erupt in goosebumps. He gave you a stern look after that, letting you know that he was now completely and utterly under your charm.

“Am I? Well, this is a competition, if you remember correctly. I think I won.” you spun around, leaning against the desk, a teasing look on your face.

“Oh, you definitely won,” his hands slid around your waist, delicately but firmly. He had a way with body language that was unmatched, you had to admit.

Taking a step closer to you and pulling your body closer to his, he dipped his head and began to pepper your jaw with light kisses.

“Fred,” you giggled, weakly attempting to push him away, “Not right now.”

He groaned against your neck, his lips continuing to press kisses along your skin. It was rendering your mind nearly completely blank, but you tried your best to stay focused, to make sure that you guys wouldn’t get caught and ruin the secrecy aspect to your hidden romance. Plus, you really didn’t want McGonagall to catch you in such a scandalous position.

“Honestly, do you have no self control?” you asked, successfully pushing him away. You missed the warmth of his body pressed against yours, but you had a feeling you’d be getting a lot of that tonight so you weren’t too upset about it. He’d more than make up for it in a few hours.

“Not around you, love,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. You wished you were the one doing it instead, but once again, you had a feeling you’d be doing that quite a bit tonight, so you figured you’d wait until you could do it with no worries of anyone cutting in. He loved the feeling of your hands running through his hair, delicately giving little tugs every now and then.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you picked up the pile of finished exams, “You’re too much.”

Fred followed closely after you as you made your way towards the exit of the Hall, his hands empty but he kept them to himself this time, “But you love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

———————————————————————

After having been empty this afternoon, the Great Hall was now bustling with life. The four house tables were filled with students and food, echoes of distant and nearby conversations reverberating around the crowded room. It wasn’t a sight one could get used to. Yes, you had spent seven years of your youth here, and a few years as a Professor now, but the atmosphere of this room would never quite sink in.

Professor Neville Longbottom, who was currently seated next to you, was rambling on about a mishap that happened in his class that day — something about a first year Gryffindor knocking over eight potted plants — and you nodded along and laughed as he made jokes.

“Can you believe it?” he asked, eyes wide as he munched on a potato, “He thought Mandrakes and Mimbulus Mimbletonia were the same thing!”

You let out an amused snort, “Kind of hard to think that,” you took a sip of your goblet of wine, “But I guess some people don’t have the magical knack for plants that you do.” You nudged him in the side with a smile.

He grinned at the compliment, the tips of his ears turning a deep shade of red. Neville was two years below you while in school, but his knowledge of plants and nature was way beyond you.

The conversation fell to a lull and Neville became invested in chatting with the person to his other side. You didn’t pay much attention to who it was, as your eyes were now trained to the other end of the table, where the usual seat of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was occupied by your boyfriend.

His eyes were already looking in your direction, causing a heat to surge through your body. A lazy smile was on his lips, and he clearly wasn’t paying attention to the elderly Professor Slughorn seated to his right.

“I love you,” you could read his lips, his eyes bright as they stayed locked on yours. His smile was genuine and loving, quite opposite to the teasing one he usually gave you, and it left your stomach feeling rather fluttery.

You bit your lower lip, fighting a grin, before moving your lips in return, “I love you more.”

———————————————————————

taglist

@grierpilots @hxfflxpxffs @mikumana @msmimimerton @pit-and-the-pen @diary-of-an-onliner @theweirdsideofstuff @thoseofgreatambition @theweasleysredhair @haphazardhufflepuff @starlightweasley @mytreec @thisismysketchbook @valwritesx @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred @phuvioqhile @marvelettesassemble @almostweepingbanana @ickle-ronniekins @iprobablyshipit91 @wand3ringr0s3 @susceptible-but-siriusexual

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fics #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley one shots #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert

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old-hyper-super-clover · 3 years

Note

For the requests‚ what about a family trip to the beach with Purgatory Hall + the royals and MC? Like Simeon and Barbatos setting up a picnic table meanwhile MC and Luke play around in the sand searching for shiny or strange things to building a sand castle (everything also keeping Solomon and Diavolo far from the preparations for the picnic)‚ playing with water guns or swimming. And after eating maybe playing a match of volleyball sand, admiring the sunset till it's nigth time and before going back‚ playing with fireworks, do a little stargazing or something--

Feel free to ignore this and thanks in advance anyway~

FINALLY I've come to write something for this lovely request. It's packed with so many fun ideas that I kinda went overboard with it xD this means the story is so big I'll have to split it into two posts!

To Bisshitu: I wanted to thank you for your continuous support! I see you in my notifs a lot and I really appreciate it!! (ALSO I AM SO SORRY YOU'VE WAITED SO LONG I HOPE YOU WILL STILL ENJOY THIS CHAOS)

Literally just 13 idiots on a beach trip~

Part 1

MC was leaning against one of the walls in the giant entrance halls of the House of Lamentation. Standing next to them, Solomon handed MC an opened bag of spicy newt chips. "Want some?" He asked and MC gladly took a few while constantly watching the commotion that was going on in the rest of the hallway.

Who would've guessed that going on a vacation with the seven rulers of hell would involve the most panicked, loud and chaotic packing of bags to have ever existed?

Well, let's be real, MC did expect it, but maybe not to the degree that they were in amusement about now.

The oldest brother had called the others for a "luggage check" as he had been sceptical of his brothers' talents in packing reasonable items in an, likewise reasonable, amount of suitcases and bags.

And of course, the first one to show up had to present his luggage in the form of... nothing.

Yes, Beelzebub came up to Lucifer, only the remains of a sandwich in his hand (which didn't last longer than three more seconds), confused when Lucifer mustered him with an angered glance.

"Where's your luggage?" Lucifer asked, to which Beel only gave a shrug.

"We're going to the beach, right? Which means I'll only need my swimming trunks, and I wear those underneath my pants."

Now the confusion has wandered over to rest on Lucifer's face. "But... Won't you need clothes to change into, or at least pyjamas for the night?"

"Hm..." Beel scratched the back of his head while thinking about Lucifer's words. "Nah, I don't need those. I'm planning to stay at the beach all the time, so..." Then suddenly, he gasped as he remembered something. "Wait, I do have something else prepared to bring along!"

Beel reached into his pocket, and when he pulled out a hand-written list that unrolled itself, plonking onto the carpet and rolling all the way to Lucifer's feet, the avatar of Pride knew exactly what said list was going to be.

"There are a few food stands that I'd like to try out..." Beel announced, eyeing the paper. "First of all, there's one selling shaved ice, which I want to compare to the ice-cream from this other stand, but who's also selling parfaits of which I kind of want to try all twenty-five flavours... Also then there's of course-"

"Beel" Lucifer interrupted the avatar of Gluttony in a strict tone. "Go pack a proper bag."

"But-"

"Now."

Letting out a sigh, Lucifer watched as Beel left.

But little did he know, this had only been the beginning of the chaos...

Moments later, Lucifer has found himself explaining to Satan why taking 70 different books with him would be ridiculously much. Also Mammon had taken this opportunity to "lend" some of his brothers possessions, arguing that he "needed those for the beach". This had worked until his swift fingers touched Levi's limited edition Ruri-chan sunscreen.

So, as Lucifer was spam-calling Belphie to wake him up and finally have him start packing, a sudden argument could be heard from upstairs:

"... How dare you steal my precious Hana Ruri 'magical sun ray protective lotion for all blooming heroes of justice'?! This very sunscreen is an homage to the legendary beach episode where Azuki-tan got a sunburn and couldn't help Ruri-chan in the intense battle against the evil kelp-army that was threatening to overgrow the local reef-"

"OKAY OKAY, HERE'S YOUR STUPID CREAM NOW LEAVE ME ALONE"

"S-STUPID CREAM?!?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PRECIOUS THIS ITEM IS TO A FAN LIKE-"

That was all Lucifer could understand as an awfully annoyed scream Mammon let out was drowning Levi's gibberish. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Lucifer knew this vacation was going to be one intense experience...

An hour later, the group found itself where this little story had started off. The Purgatory Hall crew had already arrived long ago, enjoying the chaos together with MC -- who, btw, had been the only one to pass Lucifer's vibe luggage check right away.

Slowly it felt like most of the brothers were ready to go, only Asmodeus was left in the judgemental glare of the avatar of Pride.

But Lucifer noticed they already were way behind the time they were supposed to meet Diavolo at his castle. So, to Asmo's luck, he let off of trying to see what's inside the pretty boy's suitcase and announced the group's departure.

In enthusiasm shared by almost everyone, they let out a big cheer:

"Off to the beach we go!"

Some of the demons had whined about wanting to visit the human world beach. But as those idiot boys literally couldn't be trusted to act responsibly (which is okay, we love them regardless), Diavolo offered to stay at the beach resort he created in the Devildom.

Looking over the endless ocean, surrounded by the equally large beach and glistening in an artificial sun's light, MC was wondering just how powerful the demon prince must be to have created all this. But they were left only little time to be in awe over the location, as their friends demanded their attention shortly after having arrived.

Without going into much detail -- the day was packed with lots and lots of fun. MC was running around the beach, playing and goofing around with their friends, only to take a collective rest and then go do something silly again. Only a few other demons were to be found at the resort, but those were some acquaintances of Diavolo's family, and the group seemed to have scared them off of the beach after, like, an hour or so. Hence, the whole beach served as their playground for whatever activity they wanted to do, until in the afternoon, most of them were about to collapse from exhaustion and hunger.

"That's right, we didn't really have a proper meal since coming here" Asmo noticed as several tummy grumbles undermined his statement.

"We DID bring a picnic basket..." Satan mumbled. "But some genius had to let Beel carry it."

The culprit gave an immediate pout. "I had to hurry, 'kay?!" Mammon huffed. "MC was already at the beach and I--" he stopped. "... U-uh... I mean..."

Gaining a round of sighs and shaking heads, his brothers however decided to let Mammon's... mammon-ness slide for once. Mostly because, approaching from the distance, Barbatos and Solomon were getting closer, their hands full with bags that seemed to be stuffed with food.

"Y-yoU BroUGhT S-nAcKs?!" Beelzebub was already on his feet running towards them but Barbatos' stare was actually enough to make him stop.

"Not before the dishes are prepared, Beelzebub" Barbatos explained calmly, but with this very weird hidden tone in his voice that gave everyone chills despite the scorching summer heat.

"We figured everyone must be starving by now, so Barbatos suggested we'd make a little picnic party with everyone" Solomon cheered, presenting the bags in his hands.

"That sounds lovely" Simeon could be heard among the general noise of approval. "Let me help you prepare everything, Barbatos."

The demon butler beamed him a smile, thanking the angel for his help.

Then, Solomon spoke up again, and every bit of joy vanished from all their faces: "Thank you, Simeon! With the three of us working together the food will be ready in no time!"

--------------

Barbatos was putting all kinds of spices into a bowl to create a delicious sauce. Right next to him, Simeon prepared mouth-watering sandwiches.

And behind their back, there was this chopping sound. Chop reaching their chop ears in an chop never- chop ending thread, over and chop over again...

Swallowing his tension, Simeon was fighting a frown. "He's only cutting the fruits..." He whispered. "You shouldn't be able to mess up a fruit salad..."

"I know" Barbatos mumbled back. "However I cannot fight this unease that urges me to check if he's really-" He was interrupted by a very unsettling "oops" coming from that certain sorcerer at the cutting board.

In honestly quicker than the blink of an eye Simeon and Barbatos were at Solomon's side, frantically scanning the table for whatever Solomon must've messed up. When all they found were slices of fruit that, well, might have been chopped a bit wonky, they gave Solomon a confused stare.

"I cut off too much of this poor Hellberry's pull" Solomon explained. "Oh well, I'll just cut around the stem and add it to the fruit salad like this."

Both Barbatos and Simeon couldn't help but stare for a moment longer, their brains not really comprehending NOT finding an abomination in Solomon's cooking.

"Can I help you two with anything?" The sorcerer then asked.

"U-uhm, no..." Simeon mumbled. "It's all fine, we just..."

"We wanted to see if there's anything we can help you with" Barbatos jumped in to continue.

"Thanks, but I'm fine. Actually I'm almost finished, so maybe I can help one of you afterw-"

"Nononononono...!" Simeon almost whined. "I-its fine! We're actually almost finished ourselves, so..."

Solomon looked back, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't look like it to me..."

Suddenly, another voice joined the group.

"I agree! You two are likely just being humble again" Diavolo had walked up to their working station a moment ago, but neither of them seemed to have noticed in their stress. The prince continued: "That's why I decided to lend you a hand as well. This is a vacation for all of us, so I should not burden my loyal butler with all the work."

"That's a commendable attitude for royalty like yourself" Solomon cheered. "Well then, I think Simeon and Barbatos could use a hand."

Diavolo was already squeezing his quite broad body into the tiny cooking space, this certain over-excited sparkle in his eyes as he mustered the food.

Barbatos and Simeon on the other hand were exchanging glances, so immensely stressed that their thoughts were almost audible:

'Barbatos I don't think I can handle any more of this stress' Simeon stared.

'We shouldn't have let Solomon help in the first place, our kindness was foolish' Barbatos stared back.

'What do we do now Barbatos this is the only food we have left, they cannot ruin it'

Thankfully, the perfect butler was not planning to let their "help" threaten the food for any longer. "Young master, I highly appreciate that you thought of my well-being. Which is why I indeed have a request for you and Solomon."

Simeon almost barged in on a frightened impulse, but Barbatos continued before anyone could raise their voice. "There is dessert stored in our hotel's main storage. Would you be so kind and bring enough for our whole group?"

A little surprised, Diavolo agreed. He waited for Solomon to finish cutting the fruits, then they went off to the hotel.

Finally able to catch a breath, Simeon shot Barbatos a last glance. "That was easier than expected. Why didn't we let Solomon bring the desserts earlier?"

Back to mixing spices, Barbatos didn't look up at the question. "What desserts?" He simply asked.

"... Uhm..." Simeon was quite startled. "Are there... Are there no desserts in the storage room...?"

"Oh, I sure hope there are" Barbatos said. "Otherwise I will have some explaining to do..."

-------------

(To be continued...)

Find my summer event Masterlist and Rules for the requests here <3

#obey me #obey me shall we date #clover's om summer event #thx for requesting side character content #i love them and had fun writing them!#the second part will drop as soon as i finish it #i hope its fun #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me solomon

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jayeeintheclouds-inactive · 3 years

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not to be nsfw on main but

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things

work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All

right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for

that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not?

- It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane!

You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label

on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so

difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer,

have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta

weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke

machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the

last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble.

We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen,

everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

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meruz · 3 years

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i havent answered asks in a long time and im probably missing a bunch but i figure better to do some than none at all so

topics addressed: x-men, art school, car seat headrest, heavypaint studies

1) Do you sell stickers or prints?

yes! and i totally have bi flag alfred up as a print... uh ... not stickers because i only have this inprnt store but yes. prints. definitely. right here

2) Are you fine if we do fanart of your jubilee design?

OFC I AM i mean its already fanart in its own right also i dont own jubilee. if you do any fanart of any of my designs all i ask is that you please message me it when ur done because i want to see...! also sorry im answering this so late u probably dont care to do fanart of it anymore LOL....

3) Have you heard about x-men 97?

yes ofc I’m very excited! Well actually I’ve never been super into the x-men cartoons im rly a comics-only type... but I’m excited that x-men gets more animated stuff and that probably a lot of people will watch it and like the x-men bc of it ^^ furthermore i want marvel to hire me to work on it??? i know people who have freelanced for the show and i had to pretend to be normal and not incredibly jealous that someone else’s grubby hands were touching my favorite comics ip... anyways if any of u know someone who has connections to the show, hook me up LOL.

this was a weird ask

1) is it ok to use your art as a wallpaper for my phone or computer?

the answer to this is literally in my FAQ but also someone asked me about hi-res wallpapers a while ago and i made a bunch downloadable on gumroad for a couple bucks I actually meant to take it down a while ago but i keep forgetting so.... get it before I remember again and take it down for real.

2) I was wondering if you went to an art school and if you think someone can make it in the industry without a degree in art or an associated field?

Yeah, I went to art school. I went to the Rhode Island School of Design because when I applied for colleges in like 2012 it was ranked the #1 fine arts program in the u.s. or something and I wanted to impress my parents and give them something to brag about to other parents. I mean there’s other reasons obviously but I think that was rly the gist of it and I try not to minimize it because the social pressure to “go to a good school” is enormous for a lot of people - certainly was for me! Do I think someone can make it in the [art] industry without a degree in art? YES. ABSOLUTELY. I feel like this might not be common knowledge for students or people outside the industry but I think you can ask almost every working professional artist and they either are or have coworkers who never went to art school. It’s absolutely Not a requirement for a job in the industry, people really only care about 1) your portfolio 2) professionalism I guess but i wouldn’t even really call it professionalism so much as i’d call it “being easy to work with”. I personally have worked with many artists who have come from STEM careers or community college courses etc. there’s of course huge exceptions like for instance if you’re a non-u.s. artist and want to work in the u.s. industry... not having a degree is a career-blocking hurdle for work visa/immigration stuff. But thats just it like at the end of the day an art degree is little more than paperwork.

for what its worth though I did enjoy going to art school a lot and I don’t regret it. Often times I even miss it! I could do without the debt (sizeable even with my scholarship taking the brunt of it) but I don’t consider it a life-ruining decision at the end of the day. 3) do you listen to car seat headrest?

does something about my art give off the vibes of someone who listens to car seat headrest.....?

I think I have one or two csh songs in my spotify likes. but i gotta be honest the only time i was able to listen to Beach Life in Death in full is via the glass beach cover.

4) how long do your heavypaint studies take, and do you do them on the spot in one sitting or work from a photo?

approximately 20-40 minutes! maybe pushing 50 if I’m distracted or stumped but I don’t think any of them have taken a full hour...I feel like i would know if they had. I try to do most of them on location! And if not, I always START on location, take a photo to remember and then finish it later when I’m in a more comfortable place or have more time. I feel like the observations I make in-person are important... they’re what inspire me to paint in the first place! And I only rly have interest in painting my personal experiences for these observational exercises so I try not to work from a photo of a place I haven’t been or a photo I haven’t taken myself.

#i will also answer a couple asks individually i think #ask answering day #ask

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xoruffitup · 3 years

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Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work.

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

#Adam Driver #Annette #Cannes 2021 #driverdaily #Annette spoilers

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legobiwan · 4 years

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Maul, Obi-wan, and Raydonia

I was doing research for an entirely different post and I just...couldn’t leave this scene alone. There’s just too much going on here for me *not* to dip my oar.

So Maul goes to Raydonia and terrorizes the populace in order to send a “message” to Obi-wan at the end of TCW Season 4:

First of all, the panel where Maul says, “face me,” is interesting as Maul is directed away from Obi-wan as Obi-wan looks at Maul’s back, perhaps in facing Maul’s back, he is looking at the past, or, more specifically perhaps not being able to look at his past he cannot face Maul’s holoimage dead-on.

Secondly, this is such an obvious setup. (I know, I know. “Spring the trap.”) But Maul’s hilarious line in Twin Suns really shows us how much he not only knows Obi-wan, but the Jedi at this point (and in Rebels, he contrives this plan because it has worked twice already, on Raydonia and later, Mandalore):

Although this is not the point of this post, you have to laugh. Maul and Obi-wan, to some degree, have been dancing the same tango for over 20 years and the only time there had been a misstep, so to speak, was when Obi-wan left Ahsoka in charge of the second attempt at a Mandalore occupation instead of going himself. But otherwise, geez, no wonder Maul ended up in Obi-wan’s arms at the end of it all, just like a “dip” maneuver at the end of a dance as mentioned above. (They *know* each other’s moves, flit between lead and follow, and if you take this metaphor to its conclusion, then you realize Maul went to Tatooine, sought Obi-wan not because he wanted Luke, but because he wanted closure, knowing what closure would mean in that circumstance.)

But I’m getting off-topic. Maul goads Obi-wan by threatening to burn Raydonia to the ground and Obi-wan, of course, being of “noble heart,” immediately proclaims that he has to go. Alone, of course.

Mace, being the only voice of wisdom in this room, offers a sound strategy:

Obi-wan immediately rejects this perfectly viable option.

This justification is bullshit. Obi-wan is known for being a master tactician and yet he’s refusing Mace’s offer of backup? First of all, between the two of them alone, I’m certain they could have come up with a decent plan. Secondly, Obi-wan had to know that Maul wasn’t going to keep his word. Raydonia was going to burn, regardless of whether Obi-wan came alone or not.

And, in fact, here is Exhibit A of Raydonia burning:

Even if he isn’t fully aware of this, I posit that Obi-wan rejects Mace’s offer not because he wants to save Raydonia on the premise of a very false promise (if he were truly concerned about Raydonia, he would have taken the task force), but because, as the title of this episode suggests - he wants revenge.

And I doubt Obi-wan even admits this to himself, using his “noble-heart” to justify going to Raydonia alone to face a massive threat to both the Republic and Jedi in the middle of a war headed by the Sith.

By every logical, tactical measurement, Obi-wan should have taken backup. And he outright refuses it because of a personal vendetta. I have more to say about this in another post, but his actions here seem to be part of this cycle of “fall” and “absolution” that Obi-wan goes through in TCW, each “fall” going lower, each act of contrition more extreme. (And it plays into a theory I have that if the war had continued, if events had been just a little different - Obi-wan would have fallen and Dooku would have eventually gotten his most prized pupil.) It also says a lot that in the mirrored situation during the “Siege of Mandalore” arc, Ahsoka is only able to capture Maul because she brought the backup. Or, more precisely put, because Obi-wan authorized the (illegal) backup of he 501st.

Mace, however, isn’t swayed by Obi-wan’s pretty terrible argument. (And for pretty damn good reason.)

But here is where it gets truly bizarre.

What the hell, Yoda? I was trying to figure out the thought process that would lead to Yoda authorizing this. Clearly, it’s not stemming from any military advantage or even thought towards the people of Raydonia. They’re already burnt to the ground, both in Maul’s mind and the Council’s mind (despite Obi-wan’s thin rationalizations).

So then why? If I start with the really wild speculation, I suppose I could say that Yoda had someone form of...Force premonition that Obi-wan going alone to Raydonia would lead to an intervention by Ventress (who Yoda did sense was kicking and ambivalent about her role in the war) which would lead to Ahsoka’s trial and eventual acquittal which would lead to Maul being captured on Mandalore which would lead to the Duel on Malachor which would lead to Luke finding Grogu -

Yeah, you know what?

NO way that’s true. Not even Palpatine could see that far into the future so I can BS on that idea.

So why send Kenobi alone?

I think this harkens to what we see later during the “Wrong Jedi” arc.

If Ahsoka’s trial was her great test, then Maul’s reappearance was Obi-wan’s. Both Mace and Yoda have to know that Obi-wan was teetering on the Dark Side when he beat Maul all those years ago (in fact, the TPM novelization basically states Obi-wan harnesses some Dark Side to beat Maul in his rage.) Mace wants to bring backup, for very practical reasons but also probably keep tabs on an Obi-wan who was at severe risk of becoming unbalanced.

Yoda, on the other hand, sends Obi-wan alone to face his past, to face his darkness and overcome it (in the middle of a war with the Sith where the balance of power could have shifted significantly if Maul and Dooku and Sidious were able to coexist in the same room without the threat of first-degree murder).

And here’s the thing. Both Obi-wan and Ahsoka FAIL this test. Ahsoka walks away from the Jedi, Obi-wan gets the snot pounded out of him, taps into his rage (this is not a man in control of himself),

...and then lets a war criminal go free in exchange for her help, all of which set up the disaster that Mandalore becomes in later seasons. In fact, Obi-wan doesn’t pass this supposed test until over 20 years later, on Tatooine. And...is it worth everything that occurred between this episode and “Twin Suns”? Could Yoda have foreseen all of this? Highly unlikely. It’s nice poetry, but at what cost?

Which leads to another interesting observation - if Yoda feels this is Obi-wan’s test, then both he and Mace feel Obi-wan is more than capable of flirting with the Dark Side. (Yes, all Jedi are, of course, but this seems rather pointed for a man who is considered the pinnacle of Jedi-ness). Again, I have another long post gestating about this topic, but I doubt Mace and Yoda didn’t notice some signs of Obi-wan’s slow fall and attempts at absolution (it’s almost like the habits of an addict - fall, swear off the sauce, and than fall again, even lower) throughout TCW, but between the pressures of the war and trust in Obi-wan, they didn’t see it as a huge threat.

So after Obi-wan leaves for his Revenge Tour, Mace explains, rather diplomatically, that he thinks Yoda’s idea is hot garbage and that his (Maul’s) -

Yes, and Obi-wan at least does learn from this, as stated above...eventually.

Oh, Yoda. This is where I feel the Coucil lost their way. Again, Dooku’s famous quote about Yoda and the Council from the Clone Wars novelization:

"The Jedi Order's problem is Yoda. No being can wield that kind of power for centuries without becoming complacent at best or corrupt at worst. He has no idea that it's overtaken him; he no longer sees all the little cumulative evils that the Republic tolerates and fosters, from slavery to endless wars, and he never asks, 'Why are we not acting to stop this?' Live alongside corruption for too long, and you no longer notice the stench."

It could be argued that Yoda is placing this “test” of Obi-wan above the people of Raydonia, hell, the entire Republic, in priority. Raydonia is collateral damage, and if Obi-wan fails his test, so are many planets in the Republic (which is *exactly* what played out). I suppose, in the very end - again, 20 years later on Tatooine - this was resolved and Luke Skywalker was saved to eventually help redeem his father and destroy Palpatine but...that only really makes sense in hindsight and overlooks the bad decisions the Council and specifically Yoda, are making in real-time.

And Mace is not convinced here. Too many things could go wrong. Maul could escape. Obi-wan could be killed. Obi-wan could possibly turn, or at least “darken,” so to speak.

“Trust in the Force,” Mace might say, “but all others pay in credits.”

#hello there #long post #obi wan kenobi #darth maul #mace windu #yoda #raydonia #meta #well i dont know where *that* little analysis came from but #hey it's my weekend right now so enjoy the fruits of my spare time #and yes i will write that obi wan falling post at some point

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years

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for the soulmate prompts! 5: you have a colorful mark where your soulmate will first touch you

This definitely isn’t like my usual fics, but it was a ton of fun to write!! I hope you enjoy it! I am here for the Martin angst.

Fingerprints on the Soul

Martin has never believed in soulmates. Or, rightly, he has never believed he has one. He has a mark, sure, an opalite shimmer in the shape of a hand, small and slender, circling his wrist. It grows with him, and Martin assumes, this alleged soulmate.

But it doesn’t feel right for him to have a soulmate. He’s never had time for it. Leaving school at 16, his mother has been his world, the only point of connection in his life. And regardless of how they get on (or rather, didn’t), he couldn’t see himself having room for another person to care for. He barely had time for himself.

When he was 8, his best friend was named Rachel. They got married in the playpark one day; Martin’s jump rope and Rachel’s Raggedy Ann the witnesses to their elopement. They didn’t kiss, gross, but they pressed their hands to each other’s soulmate marks. Rachel’s hand was too chubby for the kid-sized hand on Martin’s wrist, and she couldn’t quite get the angle right. Rachel’s mark was on her hip, five delicate purple spots her mum told her were probably fingerprints. “Someone very gentle,” she repeated her mother’s words with pride. Martin wondered what a whole hand on the wrist meant. Probably bad. His mother grabbed his wrist when he was in trouble, dragging him to the timeout corner. That never felt like true love, what Rachel said soulmates were supposed to be.

When Martin was 19, he watched Terry, a Northern boy with shaggy hair dyed a black so dark it was almost blue, grab his wrist and pull him into the stockroom of the Tesco’s, and for a moment his heart lifted. But as a boy who smelled like deli meat and tasted like cigarettes kissed him, hands on his waist, he realized it was the wrong hand. He kissed back, of course, though he knew it wouldn’t last.

Martin was 21 when he decided not to think about a soulmate anymore. There are plenty of dating apps, people sending pictures of marks to see if they match in color or trying to string together a narrative that rationalizes any sort of reason their touches could be each other’s. He’s always wondered if it’s all self-imposed, someone you like touches you in the right spot and your brain convinces you it’s been them all along. It’s naïve, Martin thinks, Childish.

His mark is hard to hide; the wrist is fairly conspicuous. Martin has taken to wearing long sleeves, watches, bracelets, even a very brief leather cuff stage, anything to minimize the glaring brilliance of an opalescent handprint, radiating against his freckles skin. Sometimes when Martin is in his flat, in the quiet and the dark, he traces the fingertips with his own, trying to imagine a scenario in which his wrist is held in such a manner, the fingers at such a strange angle. The rainbow of color shimmers in light, hypnotizing to behold.

Martin was 24 when he joined The Magnus Institute, though he said he was 30. He wasn’t sure why that lie had slipped out, but it had felt right to give himself a boost in years, if nothing else to make sure there was sufficient time for all his “degree work” to have been completed. Elias seemed to believe him. Made him seem more professional too, to be a 30-year-old looking for a job, rather than a measly 24. Silly, really. His actual age wouldn’t have made a lick of difference in the things that mattered.

Being 28 years old when he is moved to the Archives wouldn’t have changed the way Jon treated him, for one. Martin was a pro in being accommodating, especially to the people that held power in his life, but damn if Jonathan Sims didn’t make it difficult. The harsh criticism, the sneering glances, the biting words he thinks Martin doesn’t hear every time he listens through a statement for details to research. It all hurts.

(Sasha hugged him warmly, in that first week working in the archives, promising it would get better; he saw the light blue mark on her palm. Tim had one to match, he noticed the following day, when he had handed him a Chinese takeaway. He had laughed at Martin’s sputtered realization, flipping his hand over for Martin to see and loudly declaring it “the most boring sign of love,” grinning at Sasha’s desk as he said so. He didn’t ask about Martin’s.)

His age wouldn’t have changed, he doesn’t think, his insistent motivation to make Jon proud. To prove that he is not a waste of space, the way everyone seemed to think of him; that he is clever and capable and he earned that fake degree, godammit. It certainly wouldn’t have changed his choices that night, he’s certain of that. No matter what age he could have been (granted, young enough to climb/fall through a window), Martin is fairly certain he would have always gone back to that flat that night, seen the form of Jane Prentiss for real, in the flesh…or what was left of it. Being 28 or 45 or 30 wouldn’t have changed the viscerally terrifying two weeks he spent locked in his flat, stuffing towels under his door and checking his skin compulsively. His mark was a ridiculously glamorous beacon through it all, like a diamond necklace on a corpse.

Initially, Martin wasn’t sure Jon had a mark. That would require him caring for another living soul and, besides the warm banter he seemed to exchange on occasion with Tim and Sasha, he didn’t seem to be an affectionate man. He wasn’t sure, at least, until he was back in the Archives, trying not to shake as he told Jon what had happened, and he listened. Not only did Jon listen, but he believed him, cared fiercely, making him a cup of tea, buying him takeaway, and demanding to Elias that Martin be able to stay in the archives. One night, when Jon was working late and Martin was sitting on the floor with him in flannel, caught up in a debate on whether or not all things could be classified as “bowls” and “soups,” (“a file is a bowl for statement soup!” Martin had insisted, unable to hold back the grin) he felt that delightful, horrible twinge deep in his gut, and shit. Of course he would develop a crush on Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, His Boss. But how could he not? Jon’s face was a delightful mix of irritation, erudition, and humor as he tried to entertain Martin’s inane theory. And being there so late all the time had taught Martin to notice little quirks about Jon: his insistence to please others, especially Elias; his stubborn refusal to take care of himself (Oedipus complex much, Martin?); how adorably squished his face looked when he fell asleep on his desk, lips parted in a pout.

Martin let it sit. It didn’t matter. Hard to take someone on a date when you’re living in the basement of your workplace. And besides, he knew Jon didn’t like him, so what was the point? It was great poetry fodder, anyways.

God, but then it happened, like he knew it would. The worms and the screaming and Jon and Sasha. He had been frozen in a moment of fear and confusion, unable to make out the words Jon was saying as he grabbed Martin’s wrist and pulled him to safety, tugging the larger man along behind him. And then they were running and the worms were leaping and oh god they were everywhere. Martin faintly registered the ever-growing circular patches on Jon’s trousers, the glimpses of blood-slicked silver like a bullseye.

And then they were safe for the moment and Martin had his corkscrew and cuts open Jon’s trouser and all he could say was I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know it hurts as he carves into the flesh of Jon’s leg, wishing he could block out Jon’s whimpering cries of pain. It’s not until he and Sasha can wipe away the blood soaked into Jon’s leg that Martin sees it, underneath his crimson-slick fingertips, precisely under them: iridescent fingertips and a distinct heel of a palm, under and around the first wormhole, where Martin had braced the skin for the first incision. He sits back on his heels and glances down at his own wrist again, where Jon had pulled him along behind, and realized that, even as they were running for their lives, something had slotted into place in his mind, a sense of peace and knowing and yes. He hadn’t noticed it, what with all the death. Jon must have sensed it too. How was that the first time Jon had touched him?

Martin didn’t say anything, and tentatively lined up his hand with the mark again and still. It fit. Even with the strip of Martin’s shirt they’ve tied around Jon’s leg to stem the weeping wound. Martin sighed, in relief and exhaustion and fear, and Jon weakly held out a hand for Martin to take. They watched Sasha peer through the window in the door and squeezed the hand of the other tightly, a message of hello, and I know, and I’m here. If they ever got out of here, they would discuss it. Figure things out.

Maybe even get a coffee.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #fanfic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #soulmate #soulmate AU #fanfic to a tea #prompted fic

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

Imagine: Being friends with Alice and asking Carlisle for help on your chemistry homework

Characters: Cullen family, female reader

Rating: G

Word count: 2120

Warnings: None

Request by anon: Wait, omg I’m so happy I found a blog that’s updated recently and I’m definitely gonna ✨stalk✨ your blog and read all your writing after hw but if you’re still doing requests, I thought of something that I would just love to see written. And this could be short or something, y’know? It can be whatever you want it to be, but what if the reader is somewhat friends with the Cullens? Reader (maybe like 20 years old?) is invited to their house one weekend after bumping into Alice and becoming friends and from passing conversation, reader knows that Carlisle is a doctor so she asks him if he could help her with her organic chemistry hw cause she’s studying to be a med student?

A/n Wow I’m so sorry this took me so long! It’s such a cute request and I loved writing it! Thanks for sending it in and for being patient with me :)

Shoot.

Mentally, I groan, stopping my progress towards my car.

I still have chem homework.

I fiddle with the keys in my hand, contemplating. You could go home…lay in bed…maybe with a pint of ice cream…and pass out in a stress and sugar-induced coma.

Oh, how tempting.

But then I remind myself of why I’m putting myself through the hell that is a STEM degree, and turn on my heel, heading back to campus. I know I won’t get any work done if I go home, so the library it is! Thank goodness it’s open twenty-four hours, because it’s creeping up to eleven and I don’t have the heart to return to one of the academic buildings.

Seeing as it’s Friday night, the library isn’t crowded. Still, I push past all the tables on the first floor and head up to my favorite spot on the second. Settling in at my favorite partially secluded table, I pull out my organic chemistry textbook, pop in my earbuds, and get to work.

{***}

A small, pale hand skims over the table near my book, and I look up with a start.

Alice Cullen stands by my desk, clutching a set of books that look too heavy for her thin arms, but she seems to be managing fine. She and I met during the first week of classes, and have been tentative friends ever since. We don’t see much of each other, given our varying degree programs, but she always greets me with a friendly smile and an offer to join her to study. I pull out my headphones, and give her a tired smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good!” She smiles excitedly, somehow keeping her energy levels at—I check the time on my phone—1:12 am! “Have you been here for long?”

I shrug, feeling the weight of the late hour on my shoulders. “Since around eleven. I was going home but then I forgot I have o-chem homework. I don’t think it should be taking me this long, but I’m struggling. Thankfully only half of it is due in the morning. The rest isn’t due until after the weekend.”

Alice peers over to look at my book and the problems I work through in my notebook. “Oh, those do look hard. But you know, my dad is a doctor, and he probably knows this stuff like the back of his hand. He’d be more than happy to help you.”

I blanch. An invitation to the Cullen’s house? And free help on o-chem homework?

But then I remember my manners. “Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t—”

“Please,” she squeaks, balancing her books in one arm and using the other to retrieve her phone. “We’d be happy to have you over! I’ll let my family know. Does tomorrow around lunchtime work?”

“Uh,” I swallow, not sure I’m believing my ears. “That works great, thank you! I can bring the food?”

She shakes her head, waving off the offer. “Don’t worry about it—Mom loves to cook and will be excited to really use the kitchen. Oh! And there’s this new series my sisters and I have been dying to watch. It’s called Broadchurch. Have you heard of it? Maybe we can start it and see if it’s any good!”

I nod dumbly, too tired and relieved for the help to refuse again. “That sounds fun! Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles, shrugging like it’s nothing. “What are friends for?”

My smile softens. She considers us friends. “Do you want to walk out together? It’s pretty late.”

She beams and waits while I collect my stuff.

{***}

I pull up to the front of the massive house.

Alice is waiting for me on the porch. She waves excitedly, and I notice her fiancé standing near the door, looking uncomfortable. I stifle a chuckle. It’s well-known that Jasper, introvert in every sense of the word, fell hard for Alice who is the embodiment of an extravert. I wave, grabbing my backpack and stepping out of the car.

“Welcome,” Alice practically shouts. Jasper gives me a polite nod.

I smile at the two of them, calling out my hello’s and climbing the stairs to the porch. The second Jasper opens the door, I’m greeted by the warm smile of Esme Cullen.

“Hello, Y/n, welcome to our home! We are so happy to have you here.” She extends a warm smile, one I can’t help but return immediately.

Alice leads us straight to the living room, where two of her adoptive siblings, Emmett and Rosalie, lounge. Rosalie sketches something I can’t see, and Emmett yells loudly at the TV, losing at a video game.

“Beat it, Emmett,” Alice chirps, dancing over and taking the controller from his hands. “We’re going to watch Broadchurch.”

Putting his frustration at the game aside, Emmett grins, standing and ruffling Alice’s hair. “Alright, I was getting my ass kicked anyway. Hey, Y/n, good to see you again.”

I return his greeting, familiar with Emmett from an intro to theatre class we had together last semester. The image of his interpretation of Juliet for our final project comes to mind, and I have to stifle a laugh. Emmett goes to leave the room, pulling Jasper with him.

“Send Bella down, would you,” Alice calls after them, already settling on the couch. “Rose, you know Y/n, right?”

Rosalie looks up from her sketching. She smiles briefly at me, then returns to her task. I sit awkwardly next to Alice, waiting for Bella so we can start the show.

“There aren’t many women in STEM.”

My head shoots up, wide eyes turning in Rosalie’s direction. She doesn’t look up from her work, but I know she’s addressing me—Alice is studying fashion merchandising and design.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer. Alice’s older sister is just so intimidating. Well-spoken, obviously intelligent, tall, prettier than anyone I’ve ever met, and top of her law class. She’s not exactly warm either, like her mother or sister—even now, there’s a cold bite to her tone. But the edges of her lips quirk up, and I can tell she’s being nice.

“Don’t let the guys push you around. What you’re doing is important, and you’re probably smarter than them. What do you want to do with your degree?”

The answer, always on my heart and mind, is automatic. “I want to be a doctor. So, med school is next.”

She nods once. “Good.”

And apparently that’s the end of our conversation.

I try to hide my smile by rummaging around in my backpack for my water bottle. It’s nice to feel supported.

Bella comes gliding down the stairs and twists into the living room, folding herself easily onto the love seat. She greets me, and then tosses me the throw over the back of her couch. Alice nods as if forgetting something, then reaches into a basket hidden between our couch and Rosalie’s chair and produces three more blankets, throwing two to her sisters and keeping one for herself. She shoots me a grin as each of us, even the serious Rosalie, snuggles up.

Alice stands, turning off the lights and then wraps back in her blanket and scoots near me on the couch. “I hope this is good!” With a grin, she opens Netflix and plays the first episode.

{***}

Broadchurch does not disappoint. Before I know it, we’re halfway through the second episode, eyes glued to the screen. Bella, who was definitely reading a book under her blanket at the start, has put it to the side, leaning forward and watching the show intently.

The front door creaks, then clicks closed, and Alice smiles, pressing pause on the remote. “Dad’s home.”

Before long, the famed local doctor comes in to say hi to the girls and to greet me. He’s just as welcoming as his wife!

“Alice told me you are having trouble with some organic chemistry homework?”

I nod, hoping it’s not too much to ask for his help. “I got a good start on some of the problems last night, but I keep messing up. I’m not really sure where I’m going wrong—there’s no answer key so I can’t work backwards through the problems.”

He nods, casually resting his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “I remember o-chem homework quite well.” He grins conspiratorially. “It is the bane of many a med student’s existence. Why don’t you girls finish up your episode and then join Esme and me in the kitchen for lunch? I can take a look at your homework if you like.”

Relief washes over me. “That would be great, thank you so much.”

He smiles warmly. “Of course. Now, if you all will excuse me….” With a twinkle in his eye, he leaves us to rejoin his wife.

This family is so nice! I wonder why they get so much flack at school?

Alice resumes the episode, and soon my musings are washed away as I try to piece together the mystery of the murder before the detectives can.

{***}

Esme is a wonderful cook. Carlisle sings her praises but doesn’t fix a plate for himself, saying he ate plenty as she was cooking. We all sit down at the table, though I’m the only one who eats in earnest — Bella claims to be filled up on snacks, Rose says she’s on a diet, and Alice takes a small helping for herself, every now and then poking the chicken in mild disgust. I don’t see what the problem is, the food is fantastic!

Carlisle sits down next to me, and I slide my textbook and notebook in his direction. He smiles, looking almost nostalgic. “I remember these. The good news is, as a doctor, you won’t be doing much of this in day-to-day life, if at all. But it is important for some courses you will take in medical school, so it’s best to master the concepts now. See, on number nineteen, you start the problem correctly, but get lost once you have to balance the equation to continue. Instead of waiting until the middle to balance, I would do that first, that way, you have a solid base before moving on to solve the rest of the problem.”

I nod, peering over at the paper intently. I hadn’t tried that strategy before.

Carlisle takes out a pen, and begins scratching out an equation. Then, he grins, shaking his head, and crosses it out, starting again in much neater handwriting. “Forgive my penmanship. Though, if you decide to continue and become a practicing doctor, your handwriting will soon be indecipherable, too.”

From across the table, Rosalie snorts, and I can’t help but laugh along. It seems almost a rite of passage for a doctor to have horrendous handwriting.

In clearer script, Carlisle continues working out the problem, then slides the paper over for me to see. He explains what he did at each step, and I nod along, trying to commit as much of it to memory as possible. He works out another problem in the same way, then asks me to try on my own. I smile tentatively as I go, hesitant to accept that I actually know how to do the problem now.

But I do.

It takes concentration to work through the steps, but I can, which is a far cry from where I was last night. Carlisle waves off my thanks, saying I just needed to try a different approach, but I had it within me all along. I bring up another section I had issues with—structures of the elements—and Carlisle teaches me a better strategy for memorizing a few and then figuring out the rest. By the time Esme and Bella have put the food away, my homework is done—in a fourth of the time it would have taken me struggling through it on my own.

“Seriously, Dr. Cullen, thank you so much.”

He smiles pleasantly, handing me back my textbook. “Of course. If you need help again, just come on over. I know the girls love having the company, and my wife and I enjoyed the opportunity to meet you as well.”

Esme appears behind her husband, laying her hands affectionately on his shoulders. “Absolutely, Y/n. Please come over any time.”

I pack up my homework and thank them once again for lunch and for the help. Alice darts to my side, grinning. “Ready to finish the episode?”

I feel so much lighter now that my homework is done, and I don’t feel guilty at all for spending time with my new friends. In fact, I may even indulge in that ice cream when I get home.

“Absolutely.”

A/n Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, here’s the link to my masterlist :)

#twilight #twilight renaissance #platonic twilight #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #jasper cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie cullen #esme cullen #bella cullen #twilight imagine #carlisle imagine #alice imagine

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