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ah-beans0 · 3 years ago

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Lost and Found, Part 3

Part One | Two | Three

Description: After Otto destroys his experiment and sinks to the bottom of the river; he ends up in a strange world, almost identical to his, but slightly off. Burned, bleeding out, and cold, the reader finds him and is determined to nurse him back to health.

Warnings: Swearing, a little blood, semi-graphic description of injury.

Thank you all so much for your kind comments and all the love on the last chapter! Like promised, this chapter is around 2k words. As I said last time, feedback is greatly appreciated, and if you see any mistakes, whether it be plot inconsistency or typos, let me know :). Enjoy!

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33664369/chapters/84006301

Taglist: @harry-larry-flo-and-mo @dancingisdangerous

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Secondary Drowning. A potentially fatal medical condition that occurs when water enters the lungs and causes them to swell, eventually restricting the ability to exchange oxygen. Unlike normal drowning, this can occur hours after inhaling water.

Oh shit.

You quickly rush to his side, shaking his arm and calling his name. His eyes flutter open slowly, and he blinks a few times. His breathing is labored and he falls into a coughing fit, which is followed by a desperate gasping for air. Grabbing his arm, you help him sit up, grabbing pillows from the small basket in the corner of your small living room and creating a sort of support around him so he doesn't have to spend too much energy sitting up on his own. His eyes fluttered shut again and he took wheezing deep breaths, wincing with every inhale.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, getting another blanket and throwing it over his shoulders.

“Cold. Dizzy.” He rasps without opening his eyes, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around his legs and now shoulders.

“You weren’t breathing…”

“I noticed.”

You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to say something else, then leave, grabbing the first aid bag and preparing to redress the numerous cuts and large burn across his body. After filling a bowl of water and collecting clean washrags from the bathroom, you make your way back to him, finding him in the same position you had left him in.

You kneel next to him and pull out a small black box. “This is a Pulse Oximeter, it’ll measure your blood oxygen levels.” You clamp it onto his finger and wait. The black box beeps and numbers flash across the screen, it’s low, a mere 89%. Anything below 91% is typically cause for hospitalization.

You pull the box away and sigh, “I know you were adamant about not going to the hospital, but please.” You take his hand, feeling how cold and clammy it has become.

He shakes his head, “I won’t. I can’t.”

“Please.” You beg, gripping his hand tighter.

“Do you seriously think that once the hospital has me, that they’ll let me go? You can’t drag a monster into the hands of the people and expect them to loosen their grip!” He snaps, and a wild look comes across his face; anger, and what you swore was a hint of fear. The expression soon morphs into one of realization when he sees you recoil from him and hears the metal arms rattling off the floor beside him, desperately trying to activate and hurt what was making their host so angry. His eyes soften, “I’m sorry…” He speaks barely above a whisper, shame apparent in his voice. “I can’t. Please just-”

“Alright. I’ll do as much as I can. But if you die I will call an ambulance.” You try to play it off as a joke, but he just sighs.

You redressed his injuries, made him a light breakfast, and put something on the TV for white noise; not that it mattered to him since he spent the majority of the day resting. For you, it was a rather boring day. The day off allowed you to catch up on homework, even getting a headstart on the reading for your calculus class.

After a few hours of work, you decided to do something nice for Otto. Pulling up a few sites, you begin to compile a list of the major events that have transpired in the past 20 years so you can give him a rough recap of what he missed. After a few hours of this, darkness began to fall, seeping into the room, forcing you to flick on the harsh artificial lights of your apartment.

The man on the couch stirs, his eyes opening. “What time is it?” He rasps, voice still raw from the coughing.

“Sevenish.”

He grumbles, “ Sorry I slept so long. Could have at least helped you with laundry or something.”

“No, no. You need rest.”

You walk to the kitchen and hear him huff, quickly preparing two bowls of soup and putting the kettle on for after-dinner tea. One of the bowls is passed into his hands and you settle onto the couch next to him.

About halfway through dinner, you finally speak up. “So, you mentioned that the arms are, like, stuck to you. Well, I was thinking, since technology is a lot more advanced than it is in your world, maybe we can find someone who can remove them?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “They don’t exactly like being messed with. When the accident first happened they sent me to a hospital, where they tried to cut through the harness and remove the wires…” He stops, “They didn’t enjoy being touched. A lot of people got hurt. I haven't tried since because I feared what they would do to me.”

“But they don't work right now.”

His eyes lit up, “I suppose you're right. Now would be the perfect time to make alterations. If not, I’m not certain that I'll ever get a second chance.” He turns to you and smiles, “Thank you, dear. I’ll start devising a plan to do so immediately. But, there is the issue of money” His smile fades a bit.

“Well, maybe you can just fix the chip thing you talked about? I can't imagine something so small being that expensive...”

He laughs, “You would be surprised. However, that is a good idea. Smart.” His smile returns and your chest swells with pride. He called you smart, such a brilliant man thinks that you are smart.

“Oh, do you need a notepad or something? I have plenty.” You set your bowl onto the small coffee table and grab a blank notebook from your small dining-table-turned-office area.

He watches you the whole time, a slight smile on his face. “Excited, are we?”

The notebook gets placed on the coffee table along with a few pencils. You take the bowl from him and place it in the sink along with your own.

“Please, allow me-” He starts to slowly stand, then stumbles forward, catching himself on the arm of the couch.

You step close to him, “Hey take it easy.”

“I want to help you, I've been a burden for the past twenty-four hours, let me make it up to you.”

“You can make it up to me when you can walk. I don’t want you to fall and hurt something I can't fix.”

He huffs and sits back down on the couch. “I suppose.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, him intently watching the documentary on TV, something on the recent discoveries in the field of cytology, and you going back to working on your laptop. It was nice being close to him, just being in his presence made you feel calm, warm and fuzzy, it felt almost domestic.

An hour passes. Two hours. Three. Finally, after sitting there in domestic bliss for four hours, fatigue begins to pull at your eyes, forcing a yawn from your body. Otto had long since fallen asleep, quietly snoring beside you. You gently drape a blanket over him, careful not to wake him.

You slip away into your room and fall into bed, butterflies in your gut and warmth spreading across your chest as you fall asleep.

You awoke again at seven-a.m. sharp. But this time you could hear water running and soft clanking of plates. You open the door to your room and you see Otto standing in the kitchen, and when he catches your eye, he smiles.

“I made breakfast, and did the dishes.”

Your heart leaps, how was it that the man you pulled off the street also happens to be the kindest person you’ve ever met?

His injuries were redressed again and you called into work sick, despite Otto protesting and claiming that he would be fine. He could walk now, although, ‘walk’ may be too generous a word; he could slowly shuffle around using tables or counters as support. The arms on his back seemed more lively, they would jitter and click when Otto seemed happy and would attempt to grip the floor to support the man when he walked, however, they still couldn’t lift themselves off the floor except for a few inches. You decided to spend the day on the couch with Otto, TV buzzing with the most popular movies of the past decade, while he slowly worked out a way to fix the chip. Between the movies, the two of you would chat about a variety of topics; you would tell him about everything that had happened in the past few years, with the Avengers and the Snap, and he would recall ridiculous stories from his days as a college professor;

“It comes to the day of the final, and this young lady, who hadn’t turned in a single piece of homework all semester, comes up to my desk, and she’s bawling. So I ask her what’s wrong and she told me,” He raises his voice a few octaves to mimic that of a woman, “‘Professor Octavius, last night my mother was in a horrible car crash, and she's in the hospital, please excuse me from today’s final so I can go see her’ However, her mother lived in the apartment next door to me. It was an insane coincidence and I never really mentioned it to the girl. The night before she invited me over for tea and went to bed immediately after. I was incredibly suspicious, however, I didn’t feel like embarrassing the poor girl infront of all 50 kids in the class. So I just said, ‘Oh no, poor Rita.’, which was her mother’s name, ‘How awful. She lives right next door to me and is such a lovely lady, once you’re feeling better, can you send me an email with the hospital and room? I would love to send her flowers.’ and the girl’s face went stark white.” He laughs and smiles, wider than you've ever seen him; happier than you’ve ever seen him.

All you can do is smile back, too in awe of the beaming expression on Otto’s face. You thought he was gorgeous when his eyes were heavy with sleep deprivation and pain, but now he seemed godly, almost glowing with joy.

He catches your eye and his grin turns into a soft smile as blush spreads across his cheeks. There was this look in his eyes, one you’ve only heard described in fairy tales and seen in romance movies. But that couldn’t be right. You're seeing things, probably misinterpreting what he means by that look.

You look out the window of the small apartment to avoid his gaze and hide the dark crimson that found its way to your face. The sun had started to slowly dip below the horizon of the New York City skyline.

“How about I make dinner? I have some frozen salmon fillets that I’ve been saving for a special occasion...”

“Can I help?”

“If you can stand up that long~” You tease.

You stand in the small kitchen over a pan on the stove. Otto stands beside you, skillfully chopping up vegetables.

“I can’t thank you enough, dear.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smile and yawn, stirring the mixture in the pan.

A hand meets your waist and you shiver, he turns you to face him. “My dear, please.” His other hand comes to your chin and gently tilts your face up. Blush spreads across your face as a soft smile pulls at his lips, he leans in, leaving less than a centimeter between the two of you. His lips barely brush your own and he whispers, “Please, let me show you how grateful I am.” Then closes the gap.

His lips are rough, chapped from the past week, but you melt into the kiss nonetheless. You throw your arms around his neck as the hand previously on your waist moves to your back, pulling you closer to him. He separates for a moment, catching his breath. The hand that was holding your chin drops to his side. “I-I’m sorry, it’s not like me to be so… brazen… I don’t want to take advantage-”

You move one hand to cup his cheek and smile, “Otto, if anything I’m the one who should be worried about taking advantage of you. But I’m not.”

He chuckles as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “I suppose. But I’d hate to burden you with… everything.”

“I would feel worse if I just left you to navigate this world alone.”

He grins, and kisses you again, deep and slow. It was warm as he pulled you closer to his chest, placing his hands on your waist, so big that they almost completely encircled it. He pulls away and presses kisses all over your face, smiling wide before kissing your forehead and pulling you into a hug. “Thank you.” He whispers as he holds you.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. The worries and stresses of your classes and work melts away into pure bliss. His arms around you, the warmth of his body, and the pillowy softness of his skin.

Then the smoke detector began to beep as the smell of burnt fish and garlic glaze begins to fill the air.

“Damnit.” You say, suddenly pulling away, removing the pan from the stove. “So uh, how does Chinese takeout sound?”

He laughs, “It sounds amazing, my dear.”

#doc ock #otto octavius #lost and found

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nikkywrites · 4 years ago

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The Superhero Next Door // Part One

Summary: Starla moves in with her sister. Things get better. Then she notices her new neighbor and not in a good way.

Based off this prompt/idea by @caffeinewitchcraft

This one has been reworked a bit. Still the same story though, just fixed how Starla notices Duke, basically. That’s the biggest change.

*****

"That would be a literal blessing," her sister says, sighing into the phone with hope that pierces through the static of low reception.

"Well," Starla sighs, hand on her hip, looking at the stacked boxes in her apartment, artfully ignoring the eviction notice laying on the kitchen counter. "I kind of don't have a place to live past Thursday, so I don't have much of a choice."

"Well, you're always welcome to come take the guest room."

Starla rubs the bridge of her nose. "I can't afford any rent, though."

"You don't need to pay rent, " Melissa insists, words garbled by the piercing sound of a crying baby. There's some rustling, sound muffled as she deals with the crying newborn. "You're my sister,” she continues, voice softer as she soothes the baby, practically cooing. "It's no problem and you'd be doing me a huge favor anyways, with the kids."

"Okay," Starla says, nodding to herself, like she has options and a choice. "Let's do it."

So she moves in.

It’s what’s best for both them, what with Starla’s apartment block being torn down to place a strip mall, and with Melissa having two new babies that she was raising solo. This was better for both of them, and it would help restore their bond that had been neglected since they had both reached adulthood and thrown themselves into work and romance.

This was good.

Starla moves in easily, happy to be closer to her sister and niece and nephew, but missing the busyness of city life.

She’s a babysitter now. Glorified, with her lack of rent, and definitely overpaid, but still a babysitter.

It’s exhausting, so maybe not so much overpaid or glorified. Maybe she had underestimated the amount of work and attention two babies took.

Watching one baby is difficult, but two? It’s the only thing that fills her day, and it does a fantastic job of doing so. It takes time, and after only a few days, she’s become adept at holding them both at once and caring for both of their needs.

She’s becoming a good aunt, she thinks. A solid second parent to the tiny babies who will never meet the man tied to them by blood. It’s hard, but she loves them and that makes it worth it.

It doesn’t take long for her to familiarize herself with the neighbors.

Casey from down the block walks her two Shepherd mixes twice a day every day. Mat from across the street brings his sons to the park three days a week. Leslie jogs at six in the morning before work. Jake brought her a welcoming tin of muffins when he noticed that she’d moved in, a joint gift from him and his wife. Kay from the end of the road hosts a weekly hang out that she kindly sent her an invitation to alongside a welcome note.

None of them are who catches her attention, though. It’s Duke, who is her new direct neighbor who catches her eye. She’s never bumped into him or anything, but she’s acutely aware of his existence.

She’s-- she doesn’t mean to spy, but she’s sure that he’s no normal neighbor.

She’s fairly convinced that he’s a Super, actually.

No one in the neighborhood suspects, no idle gossip whispered when she questioned about the new neighbor who hasn’t bothered (or noticed) that someone new has moved into the house next door. He’s fairly secluded among everyone.

He doesn’t go to Kay’s hangouts. He’s just home to sleep, everyone says. He’s not a social guy. He does, though, travel into the city pretty often for hours at a time. Some of it is on a schedule.

Some of it is not.

Starla has... perhaps checked the news when he does, to see how often it lines up with city Super sightings, but it doesn’t enough for obvious eyebrows to be raised. But she knows that Supers don’t always go out in suits when they’re working, so it’s an iffy measurement from the start.

It doesn’t damn or clear him.

Not much would. But she’d find what she had to. If he was low-level, she’d be fine with it. It was the high tiers who couldn’t escape from their work. Who’s work followed them after they shrugged off the suit and the mask and the name.

It was fine if he wasn’t dangerous. She wasn’t planning on outing him. She just needed to know if he was safe.

After she learned that, she’d leave him be.

It’s his fault for being obvious. He comes home bruised and battered from an office job. He has odd hours. He’s left for the city at night a time or two, speeding out of his driveway in a hurry. No one has ever been in his house. No one has said anything more then hello or good morning to him. He was a ghost. A picture of what it looked like when someone was trying to be invisible.

It was suspicious. It had her gut rolling in unease.

Scones are how she decides to start. it’s polite to bake goods for neighbors and scones are bland enough he probably won’t hate them. It’ll open the door of her getting closer.

The twins are napping when she gets the chance to start throwing the batch together. She hopes they sleep for the hour or so it’ll take for her to throw it in the oven because she’s starting it from scratch. They don’t, of course, or more specifically, Cassie doesn’t.

She abandons the bowl of unmixed powders with liquid poured over the top like a faulty volcano to scoop up the crying baby. “Hey baby,” she coos, swiping a finger over a soft, velvet cheek as she bounces softly. “Whatcha crying for, huh?”

She settles fairly quickly, her large eyes drifting down. Carefully, Starla sets her back into the rocker and returns to baking, sacrificing time for silence.

They sleep through the rest of mixing and shaping into triangle-esque blobs. It’s after she sets the timer that they wake again, and she’s quick to go over and give them another feeding, and a diaper change for Benjamin.

Caring for them both had seemed impossible, at the beginning, but now it was as easy as breathing.

Her life is turning around, rising from the bland routine it had fallen into. A brightening comet that lights her night sky.

Things were much less stressful now. She enjoyed her day to day, which she didn’t before. She’d loved the city, but it hadn’t been kind to her and the eviction notice was just the straw that broke her. That sent her away. The suburbs were nice, too, though, and she was close enough to the city to be satisfied.

It was safer, too.

Or, it was statistically. She’d never suspected her apartment floormates or coworkers to be Supers. Now she was determined her neighbor was one. Now she was worried about it.

Back at her apartment, a ripped-up street was just another Thursday. Rubble blocking a road was normal. It hadn’t disturbed her too much. Life was boring.

It wasn’t now. And not just because of the twins. She had a mystery, too.

She likes mysteries. Puzzles and games and books. She likes to guess who the villain is, in thriller stories and in mystery books. She guesses right sometimes and she doesn’t on others, but she likes attempting. At trying to slot together all the little clues and dissecting the truth from a heap of mostly inconsequential evidence.

As a kid, she’d wanted to be a police officer. Her dad had watched a lot of crime shows and she’d liked watching them fit pieces together to bring justice. It looked fun, when it was on TV.

Then she grew up. She learned that police work was a lot more boring and restricting than the shows made it out to be. Cops were just second-rate overlooked heroes. They got all the paperwork. None of the glory. They did the stakeouts and the waiting. All of the parts that were a slog. Heroes got the benefits. Her fire had been snuffed out. but she still loved the idea of it.

She still likes solving mysteries. And even if she didn’t-- she doesn’t like the idea of someone dangerous living next to her family.

What if a fight followed him home and a Super battle broke out? If Supers started fighting that close, there would be nothing she could do.

It was best she figured out what kind of Super her new neighbor was . If she was lucky, he was just a nonpowered, try hard vigilante. Which was kind of illegal, but not particularly dangerous. But that was if she was lucky. If she was unlucky, then they were in danger just because of their proximity to him.

Living in the city, she’d seen too many new reports of mangled office buildings, smoking apartment buildings, has seen too much of the wreckage fighting leaves behind on the streets and the buildings and the people. It had so much impact on people. It was a very destructive thing to happen.

There was a reason why most of city budget goes to upkeep and repair. Super battles break everything and because they’re doing good, they don’t face punishment.

Starla is pretty indifferent to Supers. She knows that they’re expensive and destructive. They’re good too. Now she just doesn’t want that near her sister and the babies.

She was going to figure out just how much danger they were in. Exactly how much.

She was going to figure out Duke’s secret identity.

*****

Done! This one was a struggle to do for some reason. I think it’s a tad better now, though.

#writeblr #writblr #writing #creative writing #prompt fill #sorta #nikkywritesstories #my writing #super world #hero world #oc starla #oc duke #the superhero next door series

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

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Chapter Two - Calling All Callers!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter ~ Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5K

“Your Grace, I-” You sputtered, dipping into a small curtsy, trying to show your respect to the duke’s son. The red-and-white haired man simply raised a hand, waving off the courtesy to show no harm was done.

“There is no need, Miss… Yagi.” Shouto said hesitantly. You gave him a smile and nodded.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you, but I am curious, how do you know my brother?” You ask.

“He and I studied at UA together a couple of years ago.” Izuku commented, beaming at the two of you. A bright grin sprouted across your face.

“Oh, how lovely!” You enthused. “I’ve heard wonderful things from both the critics and Izuku about that institution, people say it’s one of the finest in the country.” This earns a slim smile to spread across Shouto’s face, so thin in fact, that if one weren’t looking specifically for it they would miss it. You just happened to catch it.

“Yes, it was certainly a rewarding experience - the professors there allow a great amount of knowledge to pass through their students.” Shouto’s voice was measured and direct, matching what he was wearing. It was a handsome grey velvet suit with small gold details on the cuffs and coattails, and he had a white cravat with matching gold features.

“Curses, would you look at the time,” Izuku mutters, in his hand a pocket watch. “I’m terribly sorry to cut this introduction short, but it is time that Y/N and I must be departing.” You shoot your brother a bewildered look.

“But Brother, it is quite early,” You noted, wanting to continue the conversation the three of you were having.

“Under normal circumstances you are indeed correct, but I’m sure you would like to be well-rested for tomorrow morning.” He says, a somewhat shyness seeping into his voice. It then suddenly clicked for you - callers. It was custom that the morning following the first ball of the season, young men would be invited into the homes of the young ladies they had an interest in, often bringing along with them gifts.

“Ah, quite right,” you say softly, the daunting events of the next morning making you a little uneased. Out of a nervous habit, you pulled your silk gloves higher on your arms - even though they were at their highest - and sighed. “Your Grace, it was lovely to meet and converse with you this evening. I do hope you excuse our early departure,” You tell Shouto, genuine disappointment in his voice. Shouto simply nodded.

“Of course, Lady Yagi. It truly was a pleasure.” You cutsied with a simper and took Izuku’s arm.

“We must get together properly, how about you come to our club?” Izuku offers.

“Indeed, that would be nice.” Shouto confirms, a hand outstretched to shake your brother’s. From there you bid your adieu and followed Izuku back to where your father was located. The carriage ride home passed by a lot quicker than you would’ve thought, your mind running rampant with questions about the duke’s son.

“Up, up, up!” You whine as you hear Mei trill about. As soon as she pulls back the curtains, the offensive light shines into your eyes causing you to squint.

“What time is it,” you groan as you arch your back into a stretch. Mei rolls her eyes and gives you a grin.

“It is time for you to get up, Miss Yagi.” She replies. You frown as you hear her address you in such a formal way.

“Mei, I’ve told you before - please call me Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were little.”

“And I hope you remember that when you marry some rich man,” she quips, earning a stuck out tongue from you. The two of you always were in sync when you were getting ready for the day. You slip into your chemise and moisturize your hands while Mei is behind you tightening the restricting corset around your torso. Then comes the dress. “Which one, Y/N.” Mei asks, making a point to emphasize your name. You give her a smirk and turn your attention to the dresses she was holding. One of them was a pretty pale pink and had a sheer lace pattern on top while the other was a sage green with a darker green satin bow tied around.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, closely inspecting both of them. You acknowledged that both of the colors and features presented a different attitude - while pink bore a more innocent approach to society, the sage green displayed a much more mature tone.

“Personally, I love both, but I think the sage green is your winner.” A deeper but still feminine voice filtered into your room from behind you. Recognizing it immediately, a wide grin spread across your face. You turned around to find your governess from when you were young, Nemuri Kayama.

“Mrs. Kayama!” You exclaim, rushing towards the woman and enveloping her in a hug. While your actions might’ve been seen as improper by most of the public, your relationship with your governess was far different than the norm. When Inko, your mother, died, Nemuri helped to pick up the pieces. She was your father’s friend from when they were younger - happening to live right next to each other. From the raw age of eleven, Nemuri became your mother-figure and governess, teaching you how to become an integral part of society but not be quieted and coddled. She taught you to be strong.

“Y/N my dear, it’s truly been too long since the last time I saw you.” She said earnestly, returning your tight hug. “But we are on a tight schedule today - callers will be coming any moment!” Nemuri exclaimed, leading you back to Mei. “Mei, it is wonderful to see you again.” Mei brightens at the raven-haired woman’s words and smiles.

“It’s an honor, Mrs. Kayama! And to be clear, we are going with the sage green?” Mei questioned, holding up the pretty dress. With a simple but clear nod, Nemuri allowed space for Mei to help you into your dress as she went to grab something from the basket she carried.

“Mei, before you do her hair, I have something,” She says, walking back over to you with something wrapped in tissue paper. “For you, my dear.” Nemuri places the wrapped gift in your hand. Daintily, you peeled back the layer to reveal a stunning hair comb. Detailed with gold plated flowers, the comb fit perfectly with your outfit - in the center of each group of petals were pearls.

“Mrs. Kayama…” you say, at a loss for words. Her hands work along with Mei’s as they style your hair into an updo, letting some of the front hairs stay down to make it look more effortless. Finally, Nemuri takes the comb from your hand and nestles it into your hair.

“It was my mother’s and it would be my greatest wish for you to have it.” She says, giving you a smile through your mirror.

“I couldn’t possibly-” you start.

“Y/N. I want you to have it. I have no children, nor will I ever, but I do have you.” Nemuri rests her hands lightly on your shoulders. You bring one of yours up to touch her’s, grabbing hold of it.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Yagi, I would encourage you to settle into the parlor soon, it’s almost 11 o’clock,” A maid said from around the corner. You quickly stood and slipped on your lacy gloves and looked back to both Mei and Nemuri for a final approval of your outfit. You were greeted with encouraging smiles - all you needed to scamper off down the stairs and into the parlor. Waiting there was both your father who was reading this morning’s newspaper.

“Sorry for being a bit tardy, I was catching up with Mrs. Kayama,” you explain, settling onto one of the pristine white couches that adorned the beautiful room. Originally designed and decorated by your late mother, it was full of everything she loved. From the powder pink walls to the white detailing, the beautiful chandelier that dangled from the ceiling, and the most comfortable but chic furniture, all of it seemed to scream ‘Inko’.

“That’s quite alright darling,” he says taking a sip of his tea.

“Is Izuku off with Lady Uraraka? I remember him mentioning that he wanted to take her to the sweets shop downtown,” You mention, smoothing out the folds of your dress.

“Actually, he is-” Your father begins but is cut off by the shuffling of feet. He simply waves the conversation off, signaling that the two of you would continue it later. You, however, were scrambling to your feet in order to look presentable. In walked two of your butlers, and behind them, a group of about five young men.

“Callers for Miss Yagi?”

And with one sentence, those four little words, your afternoon was whirled into a twister. You felt flattered, of course, but some of the young men that called for you were just so… dull. Just like at the ball the previous night, Lord Ojirou was kind but boring - his conversation going in one ear and out the other. But, to be polite, you wore a kind smile and nodded when needed. Sir Koda was incredibly shy, so you had to take the reins on your chat. It wasn’t awful, in fact, he was a rather nice man to talk to. He was even so kind hearted as to bring you two white parakeets - a gift for giving him your time. Lord Kaibara and Lord Shoda were both nice enough, each bearing expensive flowers and boxes of sweets. And finally, you were onto the worst out of the bunch. You figured that the afternoon was going nicely, a bit too nicely. Then, of course, Lord Mineta had to walk on in. While he brought along a gift that was nice enough, a pair of sheer lace gloves, he was insufferable to converse with. You made eye contact with your father several times and knew that if he could kick the young lord out, he would, but for the sake of your family’s reputation he abstained. You suppressed a sigh as your conversation with Lord Mineta took quite a serious turn, already talking about a possible engagement between the two of you.

“Oh Miss Yagi, I can see it now - you and I, a large house in the midst of the city, about ten children-”

“Ten?!” You exclaim, a nervous smile on your face as you brought out your fan.

“But of course!” Your conversation with him continued down this unfortunate path but you chose to focus on the opening door behind him to reveal your brother. You let a breath of relief flow out from you as you saw his familiar face, but it soon morphed to one of curiosity, because behind him, was Shouto Todoroki. You registered Lord Mineta continuing to drone on but your eyes stayed on the duke’s son, watching his simple mannerisms as he followed Izuku to where your father was sitting. It only took another moment for the red-and-white haired man to return your gaze. It was like a fresh rain had descended upon you - a wave of solace seemed to wash over you as your eye-contact remained, finding comfort in his heterochromatic eyes. It was broken, however, when you felt someone’s hands on top of your gloved ones. Wrenching your head back quickly to the man, if you could even call him that, in front of you, you started to feel a light panic rise within you. What on Earth am I doing entertaining this guy? Like hell would I ever become engaged to a man like him, you thought.

“As I was saying, Lady Yagi, I was mentioning how it would be more than kind of you to join me to promenade tomorrow - perhaps noon?” Lord Mineta said, a sickening smirk spreading across his face. You glanced over at Shouto to see he was still looking at you and flashed him a look of desperation.

“I, umm, that is very kind of you Lord Mineta, however I find myself occupied tomorrow.” You say, trying to find any excuse to get out of the situation he hopes to find the two of you in.

“That is curious because I remember talking to the other callers you so selflessly entertained and they mentioned nothing about making plans with you,” Damn, he caught me in a lie. I am surely in for it now.

“That’s because I have made plans with Lady Yagi.” A cool tone graced the room and you turned your head to look up at the speaker. Shouto stood next to you and looked at Lord Mineta with indifference in his expression, but pure confidence flickered in his eyes.

“O-Of course Your Grace!” Lord Mineta stuttered, letting go of your hands. You quickly returned your hands to your side, accidentally brushing one across Shouto’s sleeve. “If you would excuse me, I have some business to attend to! Lovely, of course, to chat with you Miss Yagi.” He says and walks quickly out of the room. As soon as the doors were shut, you sighed with relief and turned to face Shouto.

“Thank you so much for helping me,” you confess, giving him a tired smile. “I don’t intend to be rude, but Lord Mineta was-”

“He was incredibly inappropriate and completely mindless.” He says. The bluntness of his words made you laugh, even causing you to bend over a bit.

“Nicely put, Your Grace.” You compliment, amusement still leaking from your voice. He gives you a small smile. “Were you and Izuku at our family’s club? I hope everything was to your satisfaction,” You comment, inviting him to take a seat next to you on the couch. He takes your offer and settles down beside you.

“It was very pleasant indeed, your family was kind enough to provide me with the finest of activities there.” He confirms. You grin and discard your gloves, wanting to rid Lord Mineta’s presence from your memory. You don’t realize, being too preoccupied with the lacy accessories, but his breath hitched a bit at your casual actions.

“I normally don’t get to go, it being a gentleman’s place and all,” you say as you arrange the gloves by your side, “but on special occasions when it’s closed I do love to go horseback riding there. The paths and roads there are always brimming with beauty.” You look back to him.

“Unfortunately I wasn’t able to partake in such recreations, perhaps I shall take a ride another time.” Shouto says.

“I’m sure my brother would love to take you, he absolutely adores his horse but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” You snicker, eyeing Izuku to make sure he wasn’t listening. It seemed to be that he was very absorbed in a conversation with your father, one that he started the moment he walked into the parlor.

“Well, if things go according to plan for Izuku, I do believe he will have less opportunities to give his time to his friends.” Shouto says, a warmer tone to his voice. It took a moment to connect the dots, but your face lit up when it did.

“Is he asking father to permit him to propose to Lady Uraraka?!” You whisper-squeal, your head drifting closer to Shouto’s.

“Indeed,” He whispers back, his smile beginning to widen.

“Well, if he’s too busy to accompany you, I wouldn’t mind doing so.” You say softly, your eyes flicking back to his. Noticing the not-so-far distance between the two of you, you lean back and blush. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, showing nothing to insinuate that he was uncomfortable.

“That would be nice, Miss Yagi.” You think a bit at how he addresses you and smiles.

“Please, Your Grace, call me Y/N. You see, whenever I do an activity with another whether it be picnicking, eating flavored ice, or horseback riding, I consider them my friend. And as my friend, I prefer to be called by my first name.” You say confidently. You can see Shouto clearly process your words and he in turn gives you a soft smile.

“If I am to call you Y/N, then if you wouldn’t mind, I would like you to call me Shouto.” For some reason, butterflies seemed to take flight in your chest when he said those words to you - like your soul had told you that this moment was one to remember.

“Alright then, Shouto.” You quip, a sly grin donning your face.

“How about tomorrow then?” He suggests quickly. You sit back, stunned a bit as his eagerness.

“Huh?” You say shocked.

“Well I did say that I had plans with you tomorrow,” His voice seemed to become a bit more shy as he explained himself, but still held steady. Recalling your interaction from earlier, you laugh a bit and nod.

“Yes, you certainly did. Tomorrow should do splendidly.” You assure him.

“Thank you Father! Thank you!” Your brother’s shouts of excitement pulled you from your conversation with the duke’s son and towards Izuku.

“What? What happened?” You stand up and rush over to your father and brother. Izuku seemed to have a sparkle in his eye, and wait, was that a tear?

“Tomorrow I will be proposing to Lady Uraraka.” He says breathlessly. You let out a shriek of excitement and wrap your arms around him, giving him a bone crushing hug.

“Izuku, that’s wonderful!” You shout with glee. The two of you spin around a bit and you were stationary enough to catch Shouto’s eye, a look of happiness spread across his face.

“Sorry, we can be kind of an energetic family,” You laugh, straightening your dress back out. He, to your surprise, chuckles.

“No, no, I’m not bothered by any means.” He replies. Shouto checks his pocket watch and sighs, regretfully looking back up to the three of you. “Unfortunately, I must be taking my leave. My father and I have some things to take care of, but Lady Yagi, I look forward to our sally tomorrow.” He says, tucking his pocket watch back into his coat.

“Y/N.” You emphasize. Shouto nods and smiles.

“Y/N.” He says, waving as he steps out of the parlor. As soon as it’s confirmed he exited your house, both your father and brother turned to you, expectant expressions on their faces. “What?” You ask, walking back over to fold up your gloves, handing them to a maid so that she could rush them to the washroom.

“Well, how were your callers?” Izuku asked. You roll your eyes and stretch your arms, feeling a little stiff after sitting for hours upon hours.

“They were… fine. Sir Koda was certainly nice to talk to and Lord Ojirou was, well, nice.” You realize that the two of them weren’t really satisfied with your responses, looking for more. “Really, that’s all I can say. None of them were that wondrous.” Your father hummed and closed his newspaper, standing up to rub a hand affectionately on your shoulder.

“You seemed quite friendly with the duke’s son,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Unwillingly, you felt your face heat up and try to temper it before it became apparent to the two men.

“Oh, Shouto? He is very polite and kind - the two of us are actually going riding tomorrow.” You say casually as you take a teacup from the table and take a sip of the chamomile that was sitting in it. You hummed at the taste, calmness running through your nerves.

“Shouto, huh?” Izuku said, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging you with his shoulders. You simply rolled your eyes and set the teacup back on its saucer.

“Izuku, you know my friendship policy,” you respond.

“So that was all you planned for? Being friends with him?” You father inquired, a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

“Well, yes, that was what I planned for. I wouldn’t mind it at all if he was my friend. In fact, I would like it very much.” You decide, a soft smile spreading across your face.

“Sis, I know that smile,” Izuku says, pointing a finger at your face.

“What smile am I wearing then?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It’s the same one when Father brought Lord Takami by when you were thirteen.” He says, smiling cockily. The blush on your face returned and you shook your head.

“You're being foolish,” you respond, gently pushing your brother away, earning grins and chuckles from your father and Izuku. While you tried to negate your feelings, you couldn’t help but let yourself admire Shouto - granted, it may be in a more, well, romantic way then you would’ve originally intended. However, that is probably not what he needed. He needed a friend to go horseback riding with and that was what you would be. For now.

A/N: In case any of you were confused, the reason why Shouto got so flustered when Y/N took of their gloves is because it was technically considered improper for women to physically touch a man whose not part of her family without wearing them. So, even though Y/N didn’t touch him, he was still a little shocked by her casual actions :)

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

lie to me, lie with me.

warnings. mention of miscarriage, divorce and alcohol.

[day #1348]

jeon jungkook doesn’t not believe in soulmates per se.

“i just don’t believe that you’re supposed to give your whole life to someone some invisible force decides is ‘right’ for you,” his eyes hadn’t particularly been observing the every change of emotion on your face.

but you were half-expecting that he would see through your seemingly momentous pause - when in fact, you were only going over the odds of him shutting you out if you spoke your mind. that all your life, you spent staring at the digits in your wrist for the moment you’d meet the destined one.

the other half of your soul.

he seemed like it though.

the kind of person to turn someone away at the romanticized mention of red strings and destiny, that is.

you couldn’t really say those words weren’t planned - no, by then, you’d already gone over the possibilities of this attractive but emotionally cautious man shutting the hopeless romantic-you out and you chose the only other option to stay by his side.

“me too.”

that’s the first lie you ever told to jungkook.

“really?” his unnervingly hollow eyes seemed to sparkle even just a little bit as though he wholeheartedly believed you.

“yeah,” you’d shrugged, eyes rolling as though the notion of two souls combined had been ludicrous, “like who’d want their lives decided on some countdown?”

in less than a minute, you’d told your second lie to the man you’d since then decided, could easily break your heart.

“cool.” but the ghost of a smile and the lull of his head as he looked at you with a sort of comforting mutual understanding, as if thinking ‘so it’s not just me’ - had been worth it.

and so began the series upon series of lies you tell jungkook who after several ‘would you like to grab dinner’s and ‘i like spending time with you’s later, became your boyfriend.

the numbers kept decreasing whilst long sleeves, wristbands and hand scarves began to find home on the surfaces of your counter, coffee table, couches - anywhere that you could think of, there’d be a colorful flowery piece of cloth or a black nike wristband lying around in your periphery. they blended so well with the background.

jungkook was tolerable for the most part. that is, until you moved in together and he bought a an empty bowl which started to get filled up by your wrist accessories.

“you know, i don’t really mind the countdown,” he’d told you casually while you were huddled up together on the grey couch of your shared living room, every change of color scheme from the tv reflecting in his eyes like a second projector, “you don’t have to hide it from me.”

he never did.

but that was because his was on 0.

it always had been ever since you met him that night at some party that your uni friends invited you to.

“i just like having something on my wrists,” by then you’d lost count of how many lies you’d spoken with your sweet lips as you laid your cheek on his chest, a hand on his abdomen whilst his arm tugged you closer to him as though he couldn’t stand a hair breadth’s distance separating you.

“what would you say about having something on your finger?” jungkook’s eyes had slanted to your gawping ones ever so casually but the way his gaze quivered told you of the nervousness that he hid almost perfectly underneath his unbothered facade.

“what?” you breathed out, lips threatening to curl into a full blown smile but didn’t because you couldn’t let yourself make up scenarios of a home and mini you and him running around the living room but when his lips quirked the way it would whenever he was happy but didn’t want to show it - you knew it had been jungkook’s way of promising for a future.

“what?” he casually shrugged.

you’d went back to crushing your cheek against his chest as the hand on his abdomen went around to his hip, hugging throughout the movie.

[day #899]

it was your second christmas together, surrounded by your family and relatives who’d all been supportive of you and jungkook’s relationship - that they’d teased you just as you were about to pass jungkook a bowl of salads to place it on the dining table. the spot you’d happened to intersect each other at had been none other than the doorway, underneath a mistletoe.

you were seconds away from going for a quick peck but he’d been faster to fall on one knee and pulled out a velvet red box.

“yes,” lie. “yes,” lie. “yes,” lie. “yes!”

fucking lies.

he’d lifted you off your feet with his arms around your waist while you kissed him passionately in front of your family. your grandmother had looked impressed, your mother had tried to hide her smile while your father was gripping the fork a bit too tightly - you’d then, commented on the slightly bent condition of one particular cutlery as you helped your mother with the dishes.

[day #542]

convincing jungkook to wear a bow had not been an easy task. he hated anything so formal and restricting, just as he hated the surprised look in your friends and extended family’s faces when they found out that your countdown was still running.

it took a lot of promises and pecks on his cheeks, lips, knuckles - anywhere you could get your mouth on - to get him to stay throughout the reception and after party instead of whisking you away to have your first night at the five-star hotel he’d saved up for almost a year to book.

but you were married and you were beginning to wonder if that was all that mattered.

“i love you, i love you,” you’d echoed the words as he’d slammed you against the wall after the guests left, drunk or sober but sleepy.

“you better,” the smirk he had on had been a smug one - almost as though he was the proudest and happiest man in the world to be able to have you. to call you his.

at least, even if he didn’t say it, you knew his love was more solid and real than your meaningless lies.

[day #248]

“we’ll get through this.” jungkook’s hand swallows yours as he squeezes it in what you assume to be a reassuring gesture - he’s never said anything he doesn’t mean.

but your heart is broken in half and your lower body is sore and hurting from the extraction process. you couldn’t even bear to look at the forming parts of a human - of who could have been your second child. or first.

you don’t know anymore.

“how, jungkook?” you question, eyes boring into his.

“wh-”

“how do you expect me to ‘get through’ losing my second baby?” the first time, you’d planned your child to be born on september just like daddy’s birthday. but on your second month of pregnancy, you’d felt an excruciating pain in your lower abdomen.

you didn’t take a hard fall on your butt. didn’t do any rigorous lifting. didn’t even do any chores - jungkook had insisted.

he’d been the most attentive, if he could, he would have marched up to your boss and demand that she’d let you work from home but you’d stopped him and convinced him that nothing could go wrong when all you had to do was sit on your ass in an air conditioned office until he came and pick you up.

“i lost a child too, ___,” it’s the first time he sounds so vulnerable. so fragile. almost as if another word from you would break him beyond repair.

“please just... don’t leave.” the sob escapes you before you can even suppress it.

“i won’t- i never will.” he kisses your forehead and climbs into the fit-for-one hospital bed with you after the lights went off and the nurses left.

but the truth hovered in the air like an overdue storm.

every soul who rejected their other half and took on another’s will never truly be complete. or at least, they’d never feel complete.

[day #76]

jungkook hardly gets nervous. the handful of times he did, you could count with your fingers.

the day he proposed to you. the day you both decided to take a pregnancy test for the first time after trying for a baby for months. and today.

“what’s this?” you’re burning holes through the beige colored document that jungkook just slid over to you.

“what it looks like.” is all he says, shoulder line sagged and eyes refusing to meet yours.

“i don’t know what it looks like.” thorny tendrils wrap around your voice - you start to regret it as soon as you see the way he physically flinches at your tone, “what’s it supposed to look like, jungkook?”

“you’ll be happier.” he doesn’t offer you an explanation. and yet those three words ring in your ears like a summon.

“no,” it’s a surprise that your neck hasn’t snapped from the way you’re shaking your head, “no- i’m happy with you.”

“we haven’t been happy in awhile now, ___.” it’s the single drop of tear that mars the back of his hand that rushes to wipe it away as though he’s the one trying to convince himself that he’d do fine without you.

like you would without him.

but you’ve fought too many times. tried too many options. marriage counseling. therapy. even trying for and losing another baby. as if third time’s the charm. as if you’re not doomed from the moment you both sat in his car at target’s parking lot, holding a beer in one hand. alcohol and 3 am conversations can lead to so many things.

“if you want to go back to her-” the lump in your throat forbids you from saying more.

“no- no, i won’t.” jungkook hurriedly refutes, his eyes burning with a sort of disappointment that you’re not sure if you can bear, “how could you even think that i would...”

“people change their minds all the time, jungkook.” you shrug, trying to be casual about it even though your cheeks are wet and your vision is blurred with tears.

a pause hangs over the kitchen you both shared and spent countless mornings making breakfasts.

“are you...” he starts but you don’t - couldn’t let him finish before you find yourself gasping and sobbing all at once.

but you don’t deny the possibility of your hand picking up the pen and flipping through the pages until you get to the back before scribbling your signature once the countdown strikes zero.

[day #0]

it’s been on zero for quite some time now. on the first week, you spend your days and nights curled up under your sheets. your cheeks don’t even have the time to dry before they’re wet again and there aren’t many occasions where your eyes aren’t swollen.

your heart feels like it’s being pierced by a thousand spears and your body feels like a tonnes of brick are crushing down on it. your legs, they’re shackled by the marriage you refused to nullify and rather teeter on a tightrope on in a guise of a break. separation. whatever they call it.

jimin’s crestfallen expression burns at the back of your mind and jungkook’s tear stained face etches itself at the back of your mind.

one chosen and the other destined.

one loved and the other, you can feel yourself falling for.

but you know better than to prolong both of their sufferings just because the young adult version of you thought you had the excuse of leaving anything and everything for your other half at your disposal. but lies upon lies built up into truths.

“i met him at a restaurant i was supposed to meet a client at,” you explained to the man with dark circles around his eyes and looking lesser than you’d last saw him.

but you probably didn’t look all that flattering either. throwing on what clean clothes you found in your closet and barely able to apply makeup before you left.

“he knows i’m married - he saw the ring.” it still wraps around your finger like a miniature cuff. a promise. a vow.

jungkook’s is missing, a lighter hue marking the spot where his ring finger should be.

“so you’ll finally sign the divorce papers?” his usually velvet voice sounds much harsher. as though he hadn’t used it in awhile. as though his throat had been filled with alcohol instead of words.

“what is it with you and acting like your time’s up? you said...” you have to take a well-needed breath to recenter, “you said you’d never leave,” if it was you from three months ago, you would have wept and cried like a baby. but at the moment, all that’s left is dried up tears and chilled anger.

but perhaps, jungkook’s is the shade of blue. a sort of flame that looked like it would burn less if not at all until you learn that it’s more fatal than its amber counterpart.

“yeah but weren’t you looking for a way out?” he laughs, the sound almost scratching against your ear drums like sand paper, “i always wondered when you’d stop this whole act... maybe feel a little guilty for tricking me... but your sleeves are full of those, huh?”

tricks, he means.

the last piece of your heart drops straight to the ground.

“what are you-” and yet you still try.

“don’t pretend like you’re all innocent!” the cups on the table shakes when he slams his fist down on the smooth surface. but when he doubles over, hands pressed against his eyes as though physically trying to push the tears back, the heart you thought you’d lost in this long, emotional battle - with whom, you’re not sure - begins to clench painfully.

jungkook might as well tear your chest apart and take the organ in his hands and crush it.

“it’s true, i was never sure if i truly loved you,” the confession is overdue. perhaps even lacking in so many aspects, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

“but i’m tired of second guessing - i... i want to grow old with you... i want us to buy that barn and start raising chickens and milking cows and adopt a bunch of cats and dogs,” the tears you thought have dried out are now pouring like waterfall, “two’s a family. two and a bunch of cats and dogs’s a family.”

your eyes hurt from the way you wipe your tears with the back of your hand but your heart aches more as you watch your husband try so hard to hold back his own tears, “i’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

you’re undeserving of his forgiveness and yet when he goes around you and gather you in his arms, you cry and cling onto him like he’s about to fade away any moment.

“i love you, goddamn it,” he curses before kissing the top of your head, “i fucking love you.”

“you think i don’t?” you manage to force out, trying to glare but failing spectacularly as you weep harder, hands crunching his sweatshirt in your grasp.

truth.

fucking truth.

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nikibogwater · 4 years ago

Text

Bogwater’s Guide to Writing Platonic Relationships

Have a seat, dears, pour yourself a mug of cocoa, and let’s talk about writing for a bit. Specifically, writing emotionally intense, compelling relationships that are completely devoid of any romantic tension.

“Niki, those don’t exist! The only relationships that are truly intense and compelling are the romantic ones! Everybody knows that!”

*gently bonks you on the head with my magic scepter* NO. This is a common misconception that is perpetuated by media and especially fandom culture. And it stems from this bizarre idea that emotional intimacy must always equate with romantic intimacy. I have no idea where this idea got its start, but if you ask literally anybody who has experienced real, genuine friendship in their life, they will tell you it’s absolute nonsense. Just because you’re not doing the kissy-kiss with someone, that doesn’t mean you’re not emotionally intimate with them.

“But I don’t want any emotional intimacy without the kissy-kiss! It’s boring!”

Yeah, so, there’s a reason platonic relationships in modern media often feel less interesting than romantic ones, and it’s precisely because of what I said above. Media producers and many fic authors are skittish about showing platonic love with the same level of depth and emotional intensity as romantic, so it often ends up being somewhat watered down and simplified, to the point that it becomes a less interesting relationship. The only thing this does is perpetuate the idea that any and all emotional intimacy immediately implies romantic attraction (it does not) while also devaluing the very real importance of genuine friendship/familial bonds.

“Okay, but what if I just like romance better?”

That’s your personal preference, and that’s okay! Everybody has their favorite genres and tropes that resonate with them more than others. My personal favorite is Family, Found or otherwise (with a healthy dose of Hurt/Comfort on the side), but I can totally understand if romance speaks to you more. HOWEVER. This does not excuse writers and other content producers from low-key asserting that romantic relationships are objectively “better” than platonic ones. Hard fact of life: Nobody needs to experience romance, and even those who do experience it do so in different ways. But everybody does need to have emotional connections with other people through the bonds of friendship and family. Believe it or not, romantic love is not a universal experience. Platonic though? Everybody knows that one, and everybody needs it to be happy. To devalue it as a whole is to impose a toxic mindset that forces people to experience relationships in a very narrow and restrictive way.

Okay--*steps off my soap box and kicks it to the side*--now that we’ve established that friendship is important and should be given the same value that society gives to romance, let’s talk about a few ways to write intense and compelling platonic relationships!

Emotional Intimacy:

I’ve talked about this a lot already, but just in case some of you are confused, emotional intimacy is just when two people have a very deep familiarity and understanding of each other. They understand how the other’s mind works, and feel comfortable opening up to each other about their own stuff. Obviously, this is very important for any relationship, platonic or romantic, but writers will often limit such familiarity between characters to the romantic relationships. The first step to writing an interesting friendship is to not do that. Show that your platonic soulmates understand each other and are vulnerable with each other. Here are some easy ways to do that:

Character A knows all of Character B’s personal preferences--likes and dislikes, including small things like food, flowers, music, etc.

A can finish B’s sentences for them.

A is willing to talk about their feelings when B asks if they’re okay.

A and B trust each other and know the other always has their back

A and B will occasionally reference events in their shared history and even have inside jokes

A will seek B out for comfort when they are upset.

A and B almost never miscommunicate--they know what the other means when they say something, and will immediately notice if the other is acting strange.

A and B can communicate with each other silently, via subtle looks, eye movements, or gestures.

Selflessness:

To quote a grossly over-marketed Disney franchise, “Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.” This is the simplest and also most accurate definition of love I’ve come across, and it is universal to all kinds of relationships. So in order to make your platonic relationship compelling, you need to show that the characters are willing to make sacrifices for each other--even big ones. Make sure this is a mutual exchange between both characters, because otherwise you risk making the relationship look a bit toxic. Here are a few of my favorite examples of selflessness between friends/family:

Character A willingly puts themselves in harm’s way in order to protect Character B.

A is always ready to drop what they’re doing and come to B’s assistance.

A and B regularly do small favors for each other without being asked.

A is always mindful of B’s needs and makes sure they’re taken care of.

A and B always do their best not to hurt each other, either physically or emotionally.

A is openly very worried whenever B is in danger and stops at nothing to help them.

Affection:

This is the part where most writers balk when writing platonic relationships. “They can’t touch each other!!! That’s sexy and weird!!!” No, it’s not. This idea that any and all signs of affection are exclusive to romantic relationships is toxic, and we need to wipe it from existence. Obviously there are different levels of physical intimacy, and some absolutely are exclusive to romantic relationships. Here’s a list of No-Gos if you want to keep a relationship completely platonic:

Kissing on the lips/mouth/neck.

Gazing deeply and silently into each other’s eyes for long periods of time for no other reason than to simply Gaze.

Doing the Do or otherwise touching each other in an explicitly sexual way (I feel like this one should be pretty obvious. Also wth guys, that stuff is grooooosssssssss 🤢)

Honestly those are the only ones that I can think of that are always exclusively romantic. Everything else requires pre-established context in order to be taken as such. So here’s a list of affectionate gestures that are totally safe for established platonic relationships!

Little forehead/cheek kisses.

Hugs--yes, even prolonged ones. Sometimes friends/family just want to hold each other for a while, and not in a sexy way.

Holding hands.

Leaning on each other.

Playing with each other’s hair or gently petting it in order to offer comfort.

Sleeping next to each other when circumstances require it (and neither of them makes any fuss over it)

Saying “I love you.” STOP MAKING THIS AN EXCLUSIVELY ROMANTIC THING, PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS PURE IN THIS WORLD!

Touching foreheads (my personal favorite of the lot!)

Maintaining prolonged eye-contact during moments of sincerity and communication, especially if Character A is trying to tell B something important.

Sweet little smiles, or other such soft looks of fondness

And many other gestures that I don’t have time to go over in this list.

Tip the First: When writing platonic affection, be sure to bear in mind your characters’ personalities and physical differences. For example, if Character A is significantly bigger and heavier than Character B, they probably wouldn’t be tackle-hugging B, because that would risk seriously injuring B. Different personalities also have different levels of comfort when it comes to physical affection. If you’re writing fanfic, it helps to revisit the source material and observe how the two characters interact with each other. And remember: just because two characters aren’t physically affectionate with each other, it does NOT mean they don’t have a deep and meaningful friendship. Also bear in mind that many people have different dynamics with different friends simply due to the way their personalities fit together. Not all of my friendships look the same, and it’s not because of insincerity on my part--I just have different interactions with different people.

Tip the Second: If you want the gestures of affection to really pack a punch, use them sparingly. Save your long, warm embraces for when the two characters finally reunite after a long separation. Have Character A take B’s hand only when they can sense that B is frightened and in need of reassurance. A “First Platonic Hug” scene can be just as sweet and feelsy as a “First Kiss” scene if you do it right! Also, don’t be afraid to talk at length about how a gesture of affection makes a character feel. Describe the warm fuzzies that bubble up in their chest when their friend/family member gives them a hug, wax poetic about how grateful they are to have said friend/family member in their life. Taking time to explore and dwell on a certain feeling should never be strictly reserved for the ones associated with romance.

And when in doubt:

Observe the professionals. Here are some fantastic platonic relationships from various pieces of media that I take tons of inspiration from:

Frodo and Sam from Lord of the Rings (especially in the books)

Jim and Toby from Dreamworks’ Tales of Arcadia series

Din and Cara from Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Lilo and Nani from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch

So in conclusion:

Listen, I get it. Romance is exciting and cute and sexy and very important in its own right, and society likes to beat us over the head with it these days. But I cannot impress on you enough just how vital platonic relationships are to living a good and fulfilling life. I am who I am today because of the family and friends who have helped me grow. Please don’t disregard it, whether in your writing or in your own life. Cherish friendship. Acknowledge the depth of your platonic feelings for someone. And writers, please don’t be afraid to express those feelings in your work. If we let friendship and family die, I can assure you, any potential for healthy romantic relationships will quickly follow suit.

#niki rambles #writing #fanfiction #long post

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buckybarnesthehotshot · 4 years ago

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Hey love! Can you do a fic where the reader and Bucky are teens in the 1930s and they run around making mischief and cute fluffy stuffs?

Trinkets (bucky barnes x reader)

word count: 1520

warnings: just a guy being an ass

A/N: tysm for the request holy shit quaratine’s been really boring and hopefully this is what you requested :))

“Buck, c’mon!” y/n, her eyes filled with excitement, intertwined her fingers with Bucky’s as she pulled him through the busy streets of Brooklyn.

“Doll, what are you up to this time?” Bucky chuckled, wondering how she managed to pull him through crowds with the shoes she wore and the restricting blue skirt she wore.

“Whatever I want to do, Buck. And this time, you are going to go along with it,” Y/N grinned, peering around the streets for something to do. When she told him, she wanted to go out for a walk, Bucky was skeptical. Y/N L/N just going out for a walk? He should have known she was up to something when she decided to drag him along with her.

“I thought we were going out for a walk,” Bucky chuckled, admiring the look of determination on Y/N’s features as she looked for anything she could do. He chuckled, knowing damn well nothing good—for anyone who was not Y/N—would come from her antics, yet he allowed it.

“We’re walking, aren’t we?” Y/N grinned, slowing her pace as she still searched the streets for something to do.

He noticed the way her eyes lit up at the sight of a small boutique along the sides of the street. Like a lion finding its prey, Y/N ran to the boutique, her grip on Bucky’s hand tightening to make sure she didn’t lose him in the crowds.

“You’re going shopping?” Bucky questioned, peering through the windows of the small store. Y/N nodded excitedly as she rushed into the store. For the umpteenth time of the day, Bucky smiled at Y/N’s antics as he followed her into the boutique.

“Can you hold this for me?” Y/N flashed Bucky her best puppy dog eyes as she held out a stack of clothes in different colors. It had been mere seconds since she entered the boutique; how did she manage to pick out that many clothes?

“You’re buying all this?” Bucky raised a brow at Y/N in shock. She chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’ve been saving up, and I decided I wanted to help out in the community. These clothes? I’m donating them all after I buy them,” Y/N smiled proudly. This was one of the many reasons Bucky enjoyed Y/N’s company; the girl had a heart of gold. She made him want to be a better person.

“You’re one hell of a gal, have I ever told you that?” Bucky smiled warmly, taking the stack of clothes into his arms.

“Every single day, Buck,” Y/N chuckled, turning away from Bucky and picking out more clothes. Y/N’s father was a wealthy man and whatever she must have saved up from her allowance went into buying the clothes seeing as she happily picked things off the shelves.

After a while in the boutique, Y/N eventually stopped picking articles of clothing off the shelves, and stood in place when she came across a glass display case, her mouth agape. Bucky could barely see what she it was that caught her interest because of the massive amount of clothes he held in his arms.

“Whatcha looking at, doll?” Bucky questioned, still somehow balancing the stacks of clothes he had in his arms.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I don’t think I’d have enough money to buy it anyways,” Y/N flashed him a sad smile before leading him to the counter where Y/N paid for everything she bought into large shopping bags, all looking full and heavy.

Y/N picked up two of the bags, while Bucky held onto the rest of them. When they got out of the store, Bucky noticed a tinge of sadness in Y/N’s expression. She must have really wanted whatever it was she saw in the boutique, but he knew she was too selfless to spend more on herself than she had to. It was then an idea crossed his mind.

“I think I left my cap inside. Would you mind if I go get it, doll?” Bucky questioned.

“Buck, I don’t remember you wearing—” Y/N spoke confusedly, only to be cut off by Bucky once again.

“I was wearing one when I went in. Wait right here, I’ll go look for it first,” Bucky sped off, barely leaving Y/N any time to respond. She mumbled a quick ‘I guess I’ll just sit here and do nothing’ to herself before making her way onto a wooden bench placed conveniently outside the boutique.

When Bucky got inside, he rushed to the same spot Y/N stood in earlier, and looked through everything in the glass case.

“Can I help you with anything, son?” a feminine voice came from behind the glass counter. He averted his gaze to see an older lady, clad in a uniform, smiling up at him.

“The girl I was with, do you have any idea what she was looking at earlier?” Bucky questioned, his hands tapping nervously on the glass.

“I believe she was looking at this,” the woman pulled out a small box, a shining silver locket. Bucky picked up the box and took in the intricate carvings on the heart-shaped locket.

“I’ll take it,” Bucky smiled, pulling his wallet out his pocket. He didn’t dare ask for the price; he was willing to spend every penny he had to see Y/N happy.

The lady took the box from his hands and she wrapped it in a delicate blue ribbon and handed Bucky the box, a smile on her face as he handed her the payment for the locket. He headed out the boutique, expecting to see Y/N waiting patiently for him. He should have known better.

“I don’t care! With all due respect—which you clearly don’t deserve—I don’t owe you anything, sir!” a familiar female voice was the first thing he heard. He was then met with the sight of Y/N standing angrily in front of a man he’d never seen before.

“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t be out spending your husband’s money this much,” the man snarled at Y/N.

“I’m not married, prick!” Y/N yelled dropping the shopping bags onto the ground and taking her shoes off her feet as though getting ready to attack the man. It was an all too familiar sight.

“You should really fix that, then, eh?” the man, clearly disappointed upon hearing Y/N wasn’t married, snarked.

“That’s none of your business,” Y/N chuckled darkly, taking off her other heel and getting ready to attack the man. Before she could move out of her spot, Bucky rushed to her side and held her back.

“You better keep your girl in check, you’re clearly spoiling her, bud,” the man chuckled before walking away. Y/N was fuming and fought against Bucky’s grip but to no avail.

“Bucky, let me go, please” Y/N spoke more calmly, all evidences of anger leaving her body. She didn’t even bother to try wiggling out of his grip. Little did Bucky know it was his arms being around her that calmed her down.

“Do you promise not to run after that man if I let you go?” Bucky raised a brow firmly.

“Yes, yes, whatever. He isn’t worth it,” Y/N flashed a tight smile and Bucky chuckled before letting go of her. He went to pick up the paper bags she left on the sidewalk while Y/N put her shoes back on her feet with a dissatisfied grumble. She could have easily shut the man up herself.

“I got something for you,” Bucky smiled widely, holding up the small box. Y/N’s eyes widened in shock; she wasn’t expecting to receive anything that day.

“Buck, you shouldn’t have,” Y/N frowned as she stared blankly at the box.

“Come on, I saw you staring earlier and I figured you deserve something nice for deciding to help out others,” Bucky insisted, handing Y/N the box. She reluctantly accepted the gift and unwrapped the ribbon, opened the box, and chuckled.

“You’re pretty observant, but the only reason I was staring at the locket was because my mother had one like it. I borrowed it when we went to Coney Island last week and I dropped it when we were on the cyclone,” Y/N admitted shyly, her hands tracing over the patterns on the silver.

“So, you were planning on buying this to replace the one you lost?” Bucky chuckled, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Pretty much,” Y/N nodded, smiling shyly. Bucky nearly fell to the ground in a fit of laughter when the words left her mouth.

“I think you should keep it as a reminder of the day we went to Coney Island, don’t you think?” Bucky suggested, pulling a smile from Y/N.

“I already have you to remind me of that day, Buck, but sure, I’ll keep it,” Y/N smiled warmly, lockig Bucky in her embrace while the silver chain dangled in her hand. They stayed like that for a moment, blocking out the world until they heard a familiar voice utter very familiar words.

“I could do this all day.” Bucky and Y/N gave each other knowing looks before rushing to the alley from which they heard the commotion.

TAGLIST: @spatium-viatorem / @sxphiiwrld / @captainamerica-is-bae

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #winter solider imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

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I can't tell you how legitimately excited I am for more Faust x Faith. I am dying for him to meet her parents. I swear this is like my new crack!

Oh, boy, it’s been a long time coming! This is pretty long, but I hope all you fans of the frosty boy enjoy it!

Previous imagines here (x)

Warning: 18+ smut, first-times, teasing, possessive, slight anal-play, anti-religious themes etc.

Faith gave it until the end of August to tell her parents she was seeing someone. She wanted to be free and clear of living under their roof before she broke the news, for her father already had his suspicions, and was sure to grill her about the boy she'd been concealing all Summer long.

The first strike against Faust occurred before he had set foot in the family home. Faith told her father that her new boyfriend was older than her by a few years, the admission followed by a long lecture about how older men couldn't be trusted off the bat. What kind of fellow had eyes for his young daughter, he asked. Faith came prepared to argue and told her fretting mother and disgruntled father that Faust was a gentleman and kept his hands to himself. It was a partial truth, but not so much a lie that Faith lost sleep. She hated lying to her parents — they were good people, and she loved them, despite their restrictions. She knew they only had her best interest at heart. If it hadn't been for their need to stay as a tightknit family, they wouldn't have moved to the city where her university was, and she wouldn't have met Faust.

She begged her parents not to get angry for keeping him a secret, then had to convince Faust to dress nicely for dinner at their house when they finally agreed she was old enough to live on her own, therefore old enough to have a romantic interest. It was an intricate plan with sensitive strings she had to pull in just the right order.

Faith had no idea Faust had already prepared for the occasion. He had a pair of fitted black dress pants tucked away somewhere, and a plain black shirt in place of the endless supply of band t-shirts he owned. He'd be the perfect boyfriend, or try his very best this once to make peace with her parents. Faust dreamt of the day he stood face-to-face with the man responsible for siring his pretty little Faith. Courting her had been such prolonged, sweet torture, and he was finally ready to give her what she wanted. He just had to set a few plans in motion.

His first goal was to show up on the preacher's doorstep, holding his daughter's hand, to see the look on his face when he realized his precious girl had fallen in love with a metalhead, and to assure there was nothing he could do to change her mind. The box checked off when they greeted her mom and dad in the foyer of their cheerful two-storey house on the ordinary suburban street.

The preacher recognized everything wrong with Faust upon first glance, their eyes clashing, already at war. Faust had seen the look before: tight lips, a heavy brow, stony, disapproving eyes, stiffened back. He smirked, and so did the preacher.

Faith's dad challenged him with a fatherly handshake to which he accepted. He shook the man's hand, pale green eyes boring into the preacher with promises and warnings of the adulterous things he would have his daughter doing by the end of the night.

"Name's Stan. This is my wife, Reneta. Boy, Faith didn't say you'd be this tall."

Faust smirked again, revealing the boyish looks Faith had fallen prey to. "No?"

"Not at all. Faith hasn't told us much about you at all, young man. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four," Faust replied.

"And how did you meet our Faith?"

"We have a mutual friend."

Faith detected the pressure in the room rising and beckoned a hug from her father to distract him from the six-foot-something degenerate standing in the hallway amongst the ceramic cherubs and framed family portraits.

Faust's second goal was to get Faith's mother on his side. He did that with calculated smiles, and exercising his manners whenever the woman of the house addressed him. By dinnertime, she'd asked how he kept his hair so shiny and if he needed any of Stan's old shirts to spruce up his monochromatic wardrobe. Faust could tell that one bothered Stan. He politely declined her offer, turning to his girlfriend with the most charming smile Faith had ever seen on his lips. It pleased her to see him trying, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing as they awaited their meal.

"Faith, why don't you help your mother bring in dinner? She spent all afternoon cooking, I'm sure she could use a hand," said Stan once he grew tired of watching his daughter making love-struck eyes at the stranger in his home.

"Sure, Daddy."

Faust watched her leave for the kitchen, his stare on her backside. Once she turned the corner, Stan tensed his jaw, ready to pummel the boy with a few personal questions framed as a benevolent curiosity. He waited until the girls joined, and dinner arrived on the table. They said grace, Stan noting Faust refused to close his eyes or add to the chorus of "amens" and struck.

"So, Faust. What do you do for a living?"

"I play in a band," Faust answered without tripping.

"Is that right? Anything I've heard?"

Faust chewed a wad of roast beef, simpering while Faith's eyes implored him not to cross the line. "I doubt it."

"What do you play? Guitar?"

"Drums."

"Ah, I see. How exactly do you make money that way? I can't imagine drummers making a whole lot. Unless you're Neil Peart."

The dark-haired man did not flinch. He stabbed another piece of meat with the prongs of his fork, poked it into his mouth, and continued.

"I'm a classically-trained percussionist. I don't struggle to find work. If the band isn't doing well, I get in the studio as a session musician. But the band always does well, so..."

"Classical training? My, that is impressive!" Reneta beamed.

Stan assaulted his cut of meat, the serrated knife screeching against the faultless dinner plate. Faust revealed his top row of teeth.

"He's terrific, Daddy. He even taught me how to play a beat," Faith remarked.

"I'd like to know where you found all this time between work and Jessica to find yourself a boyfriend and learn how to play drums."

Faith's grin disappeared while Faust's quivered. The lie hung about their heads, and Faust inhaled every bit of it with feral delight.

A dappling of red crawled up Stan's neck. The two men held each other in a suspended glare. Faust told the man everything he didn't want to know with a raise of his eyebrows.

The third goal was to get Faith alone in her old bedroom after dinner. When her mother mentioned she left some clothes and a few odds and ends behind, Faust offered to take them down for her. He needed only her guidance upstairs to find the room. This was a farce. Faust knew damn well where her room was, as he'd waited down the street for her to sneak out the window many times over the months. Now that Summer was winding down, and Faith had a dorm far away from her dad's watchful eye, the bedroom seemed even more forbidden.

"Here, this must be what my mom was talking about," Faith went to the foot of her twin bed where a taped box waited.

When she turned around, Faust was inches away from her, and a breathy gasp leapt from her mouth. "Oh my goodness, Faust, you spooked me! You really have to make more noise when you... When you..."

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his dress pants just as he leaned in to force his way into her mouth. Her eyes bulged, the firmness she felt between his legs and his probing tongue halting her pulse for a double-beat.

"Faust!" She hissed. "What are you doing?"

"I want you. Right now," he said.

"Now? We can't! My dad's just in the other room."

"I thought you wanted my cock?"

Faith hushed him by pressing her fingers to his lips; terrified someone might hear his deep, resonant voice through the walls. "Why do you choose now to want this suddenly?"

"It's not sudden. I told you I'd fuck you after I met your parents."

"Yeah, but not here!"

"Why not?"

Faith attempted to pull away from him but loathed missing the chance to feel his manhood growing in her palm for the first time. She spent many nights trying her best to brush up against his groin to get a feel for what lay beneath his boxer shorts. Even going so far as to wake up before him, hoping she'd catch a glimpse of morning wood, but always coming up with nothing. Faust's self-control was unshakeable. But now...

With her palm pressed hard against his groin, Faust let out a dull growl, the guttural sound awakening the heavy longing Faith had tried so hard to resist.

"Faith!" Stan called from the bottom of the stairs.

She tried to snatch her hand away, but Faust's hold was iron. He kept her anchored to him, biting his lip as the sound of footsteps on the staircase warned them of her dad's approach.

"Let go," she hissed, unable to stifle the intrigue dimpling her cheeks. "Faust!"

"This is what you wanted," Faust told her.

Stan reached the landing, a mere seven-feet from the open bedroom door. Faust leaned in, let his bottom lip pop out from under the assault of his teeth and made sure she felt him twitch in her hand. Faith tugged again, but Faust held tight.

"Would you?— Faust, let me go!"

At the last second, before Stan entered the room, Faust released her arm and turned toward the box. He lifted it from the bed and held it in front of his hips to conceal the half-mast erection in his pants. Stan analyzed the scene with a critical eye and lingered on Faust while Faith failed to look innocent. She wrang her wrist and fiddled with her daughter's pride ring, bounding away from her boyfriend and into her father's arms.

"Thanks for everything tonight, daddy. I'm so glad we could have dinner and tell mom—"

"You all right, sweetheart?" Stan asked, throwing Faust a warning shot with his eyes.

"What? Of course, I'm all right, daddy."

"Just checking. You need any help?"

Faust's mouth twisted. "All good, boss. I'll take care of her."

His assurance did nothing to placate the preacher. He looked at his daughter as if to implore her to reconsider her choice of male company. Faust knew the moment he was out of ear-shot, and Stan had a minute to speak with his daughter, he'd beg her to think of the future he'd never be able to provide. But he knew Faith — knew she adored him with every mote of her being, and her father trying to shoo him off the porch would only intensify her lust.

Faust loaded his girlfriend's belongings into the trunk of his roommate's car he borrowed for the night while she said her goodbyes to her mother on the front porch. Stan took the opportunity to approach the younger man before Faith had a chance to intervene.

"I don't know what your intentions are with my little girl, son, but let me make myself clear: if I catch wind of any mucking around, or if she comes to me with tears in her eyes because of something you did, our conversation will not be a pleasant one."

Faust slammed the trunk shut. "I love her, and I don't plan on hurting her."

Stan sneered. "I've seen you and your group around town. Do you think a pair of dress pants and a fake smile will fool me? News travels in this place. I've heard all about what your circle is known for, and frankly, it'd please me if you left her to concentrate on her schooling. That's why we moved here. She doesn't need any distractions."

"Which is why I'm taking her straight back to her dorm."

Before the conversation went further South, Faith skipped down the walkway and wedged herself between the two men. She hugged her father and bid him farewell before joining Faust at his side. The drummer smirked as he wrapped his arm around Faith's shoulders and led her to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for her while maintaining eye contact with Stan.

Her parents waited on the porch for them to drive away, but Faust stalled under the pretense of answering some text messages. Before starting the car, he turned to his girlfriend, grabbed her jaw and pulled her in for a long, heated kiss. Faith giggled, attempted to pull back, but met resistance. Faust wasn't finished kissing her. Not until he was certain Stan and Reneta saw. Faust traced her gold necklace, thumbing the tiny crucifix as he pulled back, lips glistening from their passionate touching.

"Faust, come on, my parents are watching. Let's go."

"Your dad hates me."

"What? No, he doesn't. He just needs a chance to get to know you."

Faust shook his head. "No. I like this. I want him to lie awake all night thinking about the shit I'm gonna make you do when we get home."

Faith blushed. He started the car and pulled out of the driveway, an evil grin plastered to his face. There was one last thing left on his to-do list, and it sat next to him, toying with the fringe of her dress, crossing and uncrossing her legs to stave off the pulsing heat of anticipation.

When they entered the elevator, Faust lifted Faith's dress and pulled her panties down to her knees. He swiped two fingers over her lips, moaning when they came away slick. The tall man backed her into the corner as her underwear fell around her ankles. Lifting her leg, he crushed her against the cold metal wall and sucked at her neck like he meant to draw blood.

"You sure you still want to fuck?" He whispered.

"Yes. God, yes, I want to so bad."

"But your pussy's so small, and my cock is so fucking big. You can hardly stand it when I finger you."

"I don't care," she panted. "I want it, Faust. Please. Don't tease me anymore."

The lift came to a shuddering halt. Faust lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, panties hanging off one ankle. It was a fair walk to the end of the hall, and Faith worried somebody might open their door and see Faust palming her ass as he carried her to his apartment. The sound of blast-beats and squealing guitars filtered out from the apartment, greeting them like a wall when Faust opened the door.

His roommate blinked, alarmed but not entirely shocked to see Faust toting Faith to his bedroom. Her lacy underwear fell to the floor, but neither of them noticed as they devoured each other's mouths on their way.

Once he deposited Faith on the bed and shut the door, she wrestled her dress off and waited. All night, Faust wanted to get out of his clothes, but his foresight convinced him otherwise. He wanted to watch her squirm and beg until she was so wet he could taste it in the air. He approached the bed, and Faith climbed to her knees, set on pulling him on top of her, but he resisted.

"Well, aren't you going to fuck me?"

Faust scoffed. "You think I'm gonna just stuff you that easily? Fuck no."

"Please, Faust. I've waited so long for you."

"Yes, you have. So waiting a little longer should be easy, right?"

Faith whimpered.

"Come here," he beckoned. Faith crawled until she was an inch away from his groin. "Closer."

She stared up at him, bright eyes wide with confusion. He repeated himself. Faith pressed her cheek to his groin, gasping when she felt his cock hardening. He raked his fingers through her hair, grinding her face into his pelvis until she fussed.

"All you fucking think about is cock. All day, every day, you sit there in your cute outfits, dreaming about having that tiny little pussy filled up with my dick. You look so innocent, but I know that not so deep down, under all that lace and gold, you're just as filthy as any other slut, aren't you?"

"Only for you, Faust," she replied, nuzzling into his groin.

"When you're at church with your parents, you're not praying. You're imagining what it'll feel like having my cock inside you."

She giggled and nipped at the erection trapped beneath his trousers. He scratched her scalp until she purred, the perfect kitten pawing for milk.

"Your dad wants me to leave you alone. But how can I ignore such a pretty girl when I know every time she looks at me, all she thinks about is getting her cunt pounded?"

"That's not all I think about," said Faith. "I think about sucking your dick, too."

"Yeah, you're not so innocent. You just want your daddy to think you are. But he doesn't know you're in my bed, getting wet from the thought of taking my cock."

Faust pushed her away from his groin, stripping his clothes off and climbing onto the bed. He sat with his back against the postered wall, spreading his legs so Faith could crawl between them. She couldn't take her eyes off his hard-on, especially not when he began stroking it in front of her. She still wasn't used to seeing him naked. Her pulse quickened, eyes travelling his hand's trajectory up and down the engorged shaft, thick with blood and veins.

He made her turn around, facing away from him with her ass up and her knees spread as he jerked his cock. Faith sweltered under the heat of his stare, mewling when he finally reached out to goad her entrance with a careful swipe of his thumb. She dropped her hips, hoping to achieve some level of penetration, but he smacked her ass with disapproval.

"Don't you dare try to fuck yourself on my fingers while I'm admiring the view. That is not how this is going down. You just stay right there and do as I say."

"Faust," she whined. "Please. I want you so bad."

"Turn around. On your back. Spread those legs."

She obeyed, and flipped over, splaying her knees. Faust pulled her closer until she rested her thighs over his in a relaxed leg-lock. He continued stroking himself, though her pussy ached and glistened a mere foot away from the tip of his cock. Pushing down on his member, he angled it toward her and laughed when she whimpered.

"It's so close."

"Please, fuck me."

"No. Play with yourself. Rub that clit for me."

Her hand shot down, finding a frantic rhythm of stimulation for his amusement. The motion of her fingers toying with herself made him shudder. He had never been so hard in his life. When he showed her the pre-cum emerging from the tip, she screwed her eyes shut and pressed her spine into the bed, frustrated.

"Come a little closer. I want to tease that fucking pussyhole."

Tease her, he did. The smooth head glided up and down, parting her lips but only just enough to reveal the pink inside her. Faust let out a long, steady breath, preparing himself for the pressure he was about to encounter.

"It's right there, baby, it's so close. You're so close to having your pussy full. You sure you wanna keep going?"

"Yes!" she cried. "I want it bad, Faust."

"Come and get it then, if you want it that bad. Just scoot down a little more and... Oh, fuck."

His swollen head disappeared beyond the confines of her sex, swallowed and held so close his eyes widened. She was tighter than he feared. It pained him to hear her gasping. Faust retracted, sights far-flung with concern.

"You okay, baby?" He asked.

She nodded, but her words scrabbled to the back of her throat.

"I'm sorry. I told you, I'm huge, and it's not gonna be easy. Maybe just keep playing with your clit for a little while."

"No, I want you."

"I don't wanna hurt you, Faith."

She clamped her legs around his waist, but before she took him again, he pressed down on her hips, stilling her on the mattress. Maneuvering out from under her thighs, he crawled between them and retraced her opening with his cock, mixing his pre-cum with her wetness. He drew back for a second and deposited a warm wad of spit on the head of his cock before driving it inside with a shallow dip.

"Fuck," he groaned. "I might need to get us some lube. It doesn't matter how wet you are. I don't think you're built to take a cock this big."

"I can do it. I practiced. Please, don't stop, Faust. I'm so wet. I want it so bad."

Faust leaned over her, taking her breasts in his hands, eclipsing them and squeezing until they moaned in unison. He flicked her nipples and dove in to take one in his mouth as a distraction from the lack of promised penetration.

"Fuck, I love these perfect tits. I wanna fuck these too," Faust's voice bordered on a desperate note. "Might just make you wait, though."

"Don't say that! Please! Please, please, please—"

He clamped her mouth beneath his palm. She smelled her own wetness on his fingers and bucked her hips up to grind into his. Rolling his cock between their bodies, it was a fight to see who would overpower the other. Faust wrestled her into full-body submission, pinning her frame under his torso, his legs locking her in place while he held her mouth.

Long weeks of sexual backlog was a sobriety Faust never thought possible to attain. It imbued him with a sense of burning concentration. In the studio, his takes were flawless, his head completely in tune with his body for the first time. The purge left his gut empty, so when the time came, and he couldn't deny Faith any longer, the indulgence was ever the purer. Faith had come along at a time when he viewed any girl hanging around his circle as a pest. He'd had them all, in the very bed he laid her down in, but he never liked the taste of those girls. Faith was a dish far too immaculate for his palette, and yet she was his, and it baffled him.

"Wait, what do you mean you practiced?" He asked, sniffing the hair behind her ear as he kissed her neck.

She stopped struggling, and he let up on her so she could speak.

"I made myself ready... Because I knew you'd be afraid of hurting me."

"Oh, yeah?" He snickered. "And how'd you do that?"

Faith bit the side of her lip, adjusting beneath him to assert her chest forward, spine curving to press against his warm abdomen and chest. "I went back to the sex shop... Without you."

"Did you?" He murmured, drawing up to look her in the eyes. Thousands of invisible needles pierced his skin all at once, his heart tripping on an undetectable wire. Faust shivered, cracked his jaw, and rose to his knees. Faith remained on her back, staring up at him, trembling. "What did you buy?"

She deliberated between a fib and a fact, choosing the latter. Faust hadn't lied to her about anything, and she wouldn't twist the truth either. "I... I bought a toy that I thought might be as big as you."

Faust swallowed the dryness in his throat, but it came back the second he took another breath. "You didn't know how big I was until yesterday."

"I guessed," she admitted.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his cock and gave it a few tugs to restore lost blood. In a moment, he stood rock-solid again, and Faith drooled over the thickness of his manhood.

"Did you guess right?"

"Um... No."

"Didn't fucking think so," he growled. "I don't like the thought of anything but me inside you."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I just wanted to be ready, baby. I've wanted you for so long. Please, you promised after you met my dad, you'd have sex with me. Don't you want to?"

"Don't ever fuck yourself without my permission. Your pussy is mine. I'll take care of it when I want to, and when I don't want to, it's off-limits. If you wanna touch yourself, you ask. Understand me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I promise I won't ever do it again. I was just going crazy thinking about you. You turn me on so much; I can't help myself."

"That was the fucking point. I wanted to make you wait so that when I finally do fuck you, you'll never forget the feeling."

Faith scoffed, then lifted her legs and made sure Faust saw the parting between them, glistening and aching to be filled. "I don't think I could ever forget the boy who made me wait three months before he'd fuck me."

"That's right," Faust nodded.

He eased his way inside of her, little by little, inch by thick inch until his balls pressed against the swells of her ass. They both let out long streams of air, adjusting to the feverish incursion before Faust kissed her to absorb her already panting breath.

"Feels so fucking good, baby," Faust said, finishing with a deep moan that sent shivers through her body. His voice tingled against her neck, the low crunch of his vocal cords a sound she only ever heard muffled between her legs. Faith had listened to him moaning from pleasing her, but never the other way around. His audible bliss stroked her just as well as his fingers did when they found her clit, working in slow circles around it while he began to rock against her gently.

The first time he slipped out, she gasped, and every peak of her body swelled with blood. Her nipples hardened, and skin crawled with delight while he eased back in, refilling the persistent little slit that had to stretch to accommodate him. Faith jolted back but settled once he picked her up, suspending her using his hands to lace under her ass like a swing. In that position, she could fret against him while he stayed buried inside, bathing in soft, liquid arousal. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she needed to draw the breath from his lungs.

"Fuck, I want to be inside this pussy forever. God, baby, it feels even better than I thought. You're so fucking tight around me. I don't know how much longer I can hold back. I need to fucking destroy you."

"Do it, you bad, bad boy. Use me. Fuck me hard like I know you want to."

He cut off her demanding mouth, answering her lip by touching the hole neighbouring the one his cock was inside. Faith squealed from the odd sensation, but Faust was determined to make her melt by toying with her hole the same way he had just stimulated her clit.

"Yeah, every hole in your body belongs to me. Even this precious little asshole."

He dared to press his fingertip between her cheeks to drive home his point, and she hopped against him like an animal trying to escape his arms. It only made him tighten his hold on her.

"I bet your dad would fucking lynch me if he knew I had his sweet girl here with all her holes stuffed. He thinks you're back at your dorm doing homework and making something of yourself when really you're here, begging for my cock... Mm, just aching for this cum."

"Faust," she whined. It was all she could muster as he let her slide down his body.

He scooped her off the mattress and placed her on the lowboy dresser next to the bed. Splitting her thighs, he didn't take the time to ease into her as he had the first couple of times. If Faith wanted the challenge and claimed she could take him, he would let her rise to the occasion. But she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders when his cock met a tight ring of resistance. He'd found her cervix, and the sensation shot through her pelvis like a blinding cramp.

"Oh! Faust! Oh my god, that h— that's..."

"Were you going to say it hurts?"

"No! I want it. Please don't stop."

"I won't stop, baby. Not until your cunt is dripping with my cum. Or maybe I'll pull out and shoot it all over your face. Or between your ass cheeks. Who knows?"

The dresser knocked against the wall, rolling a pair of his drumsticks to the floor with a clatter. Faith was happy Faust's roommate played music loud enough to drown out the sounds of her moaning and mewling for him to take her harder.

After a while, they ended up back on the bed; Faith mounted on his pelvis so he could take a break and enjoy the view of her riding him. He couldn't take the look on her face, the pained, lip-biting expression. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty. But this was what she wanted, and what he wanted, despite his insistence it was all for her.

He succumbed to the sensations holding his dick hostage. It happened after he worked Faith up to an orgasm, using his thumb to tease her clit until she shuddered and came, squeezing around him so hard Faust thought he might pass out before having the pleasure of emptying a load inside her.

"Oh my god, Faust, I'm coming," she squeaked. "Don't stop, don't stop."

"I won't, baby. Keep going. Keep coming all over me. That's what I like to see. Fuck, I'm gonna come, too if you keep clenching like that."

The contractions swallowing his cock were too violent for him to resist. The trembling of her thighs, the way she bit her bottom lip and squeezed her arms around her breasts, needing something to hold onto while she orgasmed sent him over the edge. At the last second, Faust slipped out and spilled months of mental-edging and self-inflicted teasing onto her hot skin. A few ropes slung over her tummy, and one even reached her chest. The rest dribbled into a pool around her navel. Using his swollen, wet head, he stroked her clit a few times, luxuriating in her snivelling shivers and the wetter sounds of her pussy lips.

Faust hopped off the bed and took a towel off the hook on his bedroom door. He returned with it, dabbing the mess he'd made on her. He draped the towel over the bedpost and looked down at his cock hanging spent between his legs.

Faith recovered from her climax and giggled. "Next time, I want to start by going down on you."

"Oh, is that right?" He asked, shimmying back into bed next to her and pulling her close. "Now that you've had a taste, you can't get enough?"

"If that's what I've been missing... Well, I hope you're ready for my non-stop horniness."

"Pretty sure I'm used to it by now," he chuckled.

She snuggled into him, blotting his collarbone and chest with gentle kisses. "That was worth the wait."

"Yeah. I'm glad we did. Made it so much better to tease you."

"You're so evil sometimes," Faith murmured. "But, you're the best."

Faust tilted her chin up, kissed her, then ran his thumb over her cheek a few times before taking in a deep, preparatory breath. "Yeah... Well... I love you."

Heat pierced her tear ducts, but she screwed her eyes shut before any liquid escaped. She shoved her face into his neck, clinging to him with all her might. Faust couldn't see her cry, not after she fought so hard to prove herself to him.

"I love you too," she finally whispered. "Like so much, I think I'm gonna—"

She hiccoughed as the tears flowed. Faust melted and pulled her even closer. "You're such a baby. I love it. Sweet girl."

#faust x faith #faust stuff #valter skarsgard fanfiction

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loserslibrary · 5 years ago

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pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier [Reddie], Stanley Uris/Patricia Blum Uris [Stanpat], Mike Hanlon/Bill Denbrough [Hanbrough] & Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh [Benverly] written by: Ashley rating: Teen word count: 2,905 prompt: from @ticomat “Ok, so, for a prompt, how about the Losers having a Dinner night in which all pairings have big news they planned to tell the others, and end up collectively stealing each others thunder?”

Eddie knew that he and Richie were the boring friends. They had been for years, and Eddie supposed that was normal. When you’ve been in a serious, committed relationship since… well, forever, it seemed only natural that they wouldn’t have as many crazy stories as their friends. Especially since Richie had been banned from telling sex stories. Eddie didn’t mind, he was never bored with Richie, and he much preferred the most adventurous part of his month being he and Richie trying a new brand of pasta sauce that gave Richie stomach cramps over failed Tinder dates or coworkers setting him up on blind dates with horrible, poorly smelling people.

Eddie and Richie have been together officially since he turned sixteen, but they’d practically been together for years before that. They’d had their rough spots like any other couple; choosing colleges had been one of the lowest points that Eddie could remember and he still sometimes felt sick when thinking about how close he and Richie had come to ending things when it came down to New York City vs Los Angeles. Richie had crawled through his bedroom window, crying and swearing to go to with him to New York City- or “wherever the fuck in the world he wants to go”- and Eddie couldn’t imagine them ever living anywhere else.

So, no. Eddie didn’t feel any lack luster in his life and he didn’t envy his friends’ wild stories whenever they got together the past couple of years. As they rapidly approached their thirties, Eddie was more than content with being settled down and married. Job he liked, financial stability, a loving husband in a surprisingly spacious New York apartment. It was more than Eddie had ever thought he’d be able to have growing up, and he wouldn’t trade it up for all the dating scene moments in the world. He wasn’t sure why anybody would.

There was, admittedly, one thing in his life that he and Richie had been discussing. Something that could only make things even more perfect. And tonight, Eddie was sure that he and Richie would finally have the most exciting news at the reunion table.

“You sure you want to tell them?” Richie asked, rubbing his hands between Eddie’s shoulder blades as Eddie used the mirror to do up his tie. Dressing up to Richie was a button up shirt with jeans that didn’t have rips in the knees or thighs, but Eddie always tried to go that extra mile when they were going out for a meal. Especially one that felt as important as this one.

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie said, finishing up the tie and pressing a quick kiss to his husband’s cheek. “I know that maybe we should wait until we have more news but- the Losers are as much family as your mom and dad, Rich. I want them to know.”

Richie smiled and pulled Eddie in for a quick kiss, and rubbed their noses together as he pulled back. “Alright, then I guess we better get going then. Bev is going to talk our ears off the second she sees us. Since the dweeb skipped Christmas.”

“I’m sure that her finishing the designs for her first leading collection was more important than our Boxing Day dinner.”

“You sound just like her.” Richie swung his car keys around his fingers as Eddie slipped into his jacket. “You’re such a sham, Edward Spaghetti Kaspbrak. You don’t need a jacket from here to the freakin’ car. You just wanna show off your nice threads to our friends when we get there.”

Eddie buttoned up the jacket up and beamed at Richie. “So what if I do? My husband has a big fancy Saturday Night Live job now, so I can spend my salary on whatever I want. Jackets included.”

Richie rolled his eyes and guided Eddie out of their apartment door. “Yeah.” He said in a soft voice. “For now.” Eddie never thought he’d be so happy to have financial restrictions.

Bill and Mike were already sitting around the table when Eddie and RIchie were shown to the Losers’ usual table. “Hey guys!” Richie half-jogged over to them as Eddie thanked their hostess. He tossed an arm around Bill’s shoulders and tugged him into his side. “Mikey, I swear you get hotter every time I see you. How do you do it?”

Bill yanked away from Richie and punched him in the side. Richie made a loud, wounded noise and Eddie came over to give him a patronizing pat on the cheek. “Hush.” He said softly, before smiling at their friends. “How was Florida?”

Bill and Mike exchanged small looks that made alarm bells start ringing in the back of Eddie’s mind, but they both quickly replaced the looks with smiles. “It was amazing!” Mike said happily, waving towards the entry of their private room as Stan came in with Patty on his arm.

Stan had started dating Patricia Blum about three years earlier, and she had been an instant click with their tight knit group. It was rare for anybody to connect with the other Losers so quickly, more often than not the Losers’ partners found their little group hard to fit into. Patty hadn’t been like that, thankfully. She and Richie had been practically best friends by the end of their first meeting.

This was made apparent again, as Richie launched himself from Bill’s side and rushed through the little room to scoop Patty up in his arms and spin her around.

“I swear, Richard.” Stan rolled his eyes but there was smile spreading across his face. “We saw you not even two months ago.”

“Awwe.” Richie cooed, putting Patty back on the ground and moved to kiss Stan hard on the head. “You know me, Manly Stanny. I’m like a dog, waiting for you to get back from work. Very over excited when you come back inside because you forgot your keys.”

Stan chuckled at Richie’s awkward analogy and flicked him in the face. “Yeah, you’re a big oversized lap dog. I don’t know how Eddie puts up with you.”

Eddie walked over and wrapped his arms around Richie’s mid section and stuck his tongue out at Stan.

“I told you we’d be the last ones here.” Ben said, quickly undoing his scarf and giving everybody a forced smile. “Sorry, sorry! Somebody claimed the traffic wouldn’t be that bad.”

“Don’t blame me!” Beverly said, swooping into the room in all her usual beauty. She pressed a kiss to Mike and Bill’s cheeks before turning to look at Ben with her arms on her hips. “I live in New York! I don’t drive. I take the subway like any self respecting New Yorker.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Richie cheered, despite none of them having ordered any drinks yet. The group all started moving towards the big round table, chattering amongst themselves. Richie bumped his hip against Patty’s and grinned at her.

“Take your hand out of your pocket, baby doll.” Richie whispered in her ear. Patty turned him, cheeks turning a little pink even under the red tinge of the dining room. She just shook her head and Richie leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Well, congratulations. Even though I’m not supposed to know.”

Patty smiled to herself, and reached out to grasp Stan’s hand under the table with her own. Richie couldn’t hide his own grin as Eddie took the empty seat next to him. Never one to disguise his affections, Richie leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

Beverly made overly loud gagging noises and Richie rolled his eyes lovingly at her. “Cram it, Marsh. Let me love on my husband!”

“Oh I’m sure that you smother Eddie enough in the privacy of your own home.” Bill said with a chuckle.

“It’s not smothering!” Eddie shot to him, before pressing an almost rough kiss to Richie’s stubbly cheek. He immediately pulled away and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Oh god, Richard, you need to shave. I’m not going to keep kissing you if it feels like rubbing my face against sandpaper.”

Richie tossed his head back and cackled, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him against him. Eddie whacked at his chest lightly, and Richie kissed him on top of the head.

“Truly disgusting.” Bill said with a roll of his eyes. “But enough of Dad and Dad’s domestic crap. How have you guys been. Some of us haven’t seen each other since the summer.”

“How targeted.” Beverly laughed, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher in the middle of the table. “But I’ll admit, I actually do have some news since the last time I saw you guys. And before you ask, no, it’s not about my new line so you don’t have to pretend to understand what I’m talking about.”

There was a moment of relief around the table, as they all smiled at their childhood female friend. Even after they’d started having more women in their group, Patty, or Bev’s roommate from college Kay, or Bill’s ex-girlfriend Audra whom he was still friendly with, they’d never really joined forces with anybody who was on Beverly’s level with clothes or trends. The closest was probably Richie- and only because with his career, he has to at least attempt to keep up.

Beverly reached out and tangled her hands with Ben’s on the top. Eddie looked at Richie from the corner of his eye, getting a raised eyebrow in return. Ben and Beverly had been having the ultimate will they or won’t they story in the history of the world, tracing back all the way to the eighth grade. They’d dated off and on all throughout high school, somehow always finding some sort of reason to break up, and then another to get back together. Two years earlier, they had rekindled the high school relationship and the Losers had been sure that they were going to be in it for the long haul this time. Then Ben’s job had promoted him six months into the relationship, sending him to live in Chicago, and they had broken it off once again. Not feeling as though the long distance could work for them. Though the two years had passed since then, the Losers could all tell that the feelings still lingered. Would possibly always linger between them. It was one of the few things that they all knew better than to interfere with.

Ben smiled sheepishly, rubbing his thumb along the back of Beverly’s hand. “My company are starting a new project to create affordable living in New York City. They want me to head up the project.” His sheepish smile broke into a full blown grin. “I’m moving back. For good.”

The table erupted into cheers, which were quickly and embarrassingly quieted when the waitress came to take their drink orders. As she left, the gang all turned their attention back to Ben and Beverly, whose hands were still clasped together on the table.

“So…” Richie sang, wagging his eyebrows. “Somebody’s gotta address the elephant in the room-”

“Jesus, Rich.” Bill groaned, though his voice hinted at laughter.

“Are you guys gonna be New York’s Next Hottest Couple or what?” Richie barrelled over top of Bill as though he hadn’t spoken.

Ben and Beverly glanced at each other, stars in their eyes, before Beverly looked back at Richie and nodded. “That was my news. Ben and I are back together- and we’re moving in together.”

Softer, but no less enthusiast, cheers broke out then. Mike reached over and clasped Ben on the shoulder. The other man’s face had turned a bright red under the attention, always a shy boy deep in his heart, and started waving the others off. “Thank you guys! Really! But Mike and Bill! How was Florida?”

“Yeah!” Beverly jumped onto Ben’s attempts to deflect. “We want to hear all about it!”

Bill cleared his throat. “It was great. You know, it’s always nice to go somewhere warm and know that your friends are all somewhere else freezing their asses off.”

The group all grumbled and complained, while Eddie narrowed his eyes at his oldest friend. His hand was clenched around his glass and he used it to gesture towards Bill. “You’re holding back. Something happened. What is it?”

Bill and Mike glanced at each other. “Welll…” Mike said slowly. “I sort of feel like we’re stepping on Ben and Bev’s toes here but… Yeah, something did happen.”

“Oh shit, did you guys fuck?” Richie blurted out. Stan let out an exasperated “Richie” while Eddie swatted at his arm. “What!?! We were all thinking it!”

“That’s not exactly the tactful way the rest of us would have put it.” Eddie said before knocking back the rest of his drink.

Richie just rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat, pouting until Eddie reached over and rested his hand on Richie’s knee. Richie dropped his hand on top of Eddie’s and squeezed.

“Okay, so that’s not exactly how we wanted to say it either.” Mike said with a small smile. Bill was watching him from the corner of his eye, leaving all eyes on Mike. “But yes. We’re dating now. We’ve taking it slowly because we weren’t sure what this was, so please don’t be upset that we didn’t tell you right away-”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Billy. Richie and I were together for like two years before you we told you guys. We’re the last people be mad about that.”

“We weren’t talking to you.” Bill said happily with a toothy grin. “We were talking to all our normal friends.”

“Well, that’s fucking rude.” Richie muttered under his breath. A small rumble of laughter moved through the group, even Eddie chuckling. “Whatever. I haven’t decided if I saw this coming or not, and my gaydar is definitely a little off, but I’m so happy for you guys!”

“There’s no such thing as a gaydar.” Ben said with confidence. Eddie, Mike and Richie all exchanged looks and Beverly kissed Ben gently on the cheek.

“Well…” Patty spoke up then, her face looking like her cheeks were about to burst with joy. Richie nudged Eddie and wiggled his eyebrows, while Eddie frowned at him.

Patty lifted her hand up away from Stan’s and held it out towards the table. The light coming from above them reflected off the rather large diamond on her left hand.

“Oh my God…” Beverly whispered. A hush fell over the table following Beverly’s words, everybody silently awaiting the confirmation of what they’d already pieced together.

“We’re engaged.” Patty said softly. Stan’s ears and the back of his neck were both a deep red under the attention. The group remained quiet for a moment, then broke into cheers so loud that Richie was surprised they weren’t kicked out of the restaurant altogether.

Everybody jumped to their feet, quick to hug the happy couple. Richie scooped Patty up in his arms and spun her around slightly, nearly sending their table flying. Both laughing, Richie sent Patty off into a teary Ben’s awaiting arms and turned to find himself facing Stanley. Stan’s cupped the back of Richie’s head as he pulled him into a hug.

“You’ll be my best man, right?” Stan whispered directly into Richie’s ear. Though his friends would often say he had none, it took every inch of Richie’s self control not to immediately burst into tears as he nodded into Stanley’s shoulder.

It took a couple minutes to get everybody calmed down and back into their seats, and their poor waitress came in to take their food orders. Richie was sure that once they sat back down all the couples were holding hands under the table. They all gave small chit chat until their meals showed up, and Richie dug in excitedly.

“Oh, wait!” Beverly lowered her spoonful of pasta and blinked dramatically. “We totally forgot! Eddie, Rich, what’s new with you guys? Anything big happening in your lives since the last time we all hung out?”

Without even needed to look at his husband, Richie knew exactly what to say.

“Nope. You guys know us.” Richie draped his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat. “28 going on 88. Watch the news, in bed by 7.”

The table all laughed, and dinner carried on without anymore cheering. The meal was peaceful and comfortable, Richie feeling almost blissful with Eddie’s heat pressing into his side while surrounded by their closest and most beloved friends.

After saying their goodbyes, Eddie and Richie walked hand in hand to their car. “So,” Eddie started, with a smile in his voice. “Not ready to tell them after all?”

Richie laughed. “Nah, we’re ready.” He said. “But I didn’t wanna steal anybody’s thunder. We got enough news tonight. Ours can wait.” Richie pushed Eddie up against the car and kissed his jaw lightly. “What do you say? Let’s keep it our own little surprise. Just show them all by posting it on Instagram. Show up at the next get together with a baby.”

Eddie grinned. “We wouldn’t be the boring friends anymore.”

“Hell the fuck no.”

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home-and-having-tea · 5 years ago

Text

it won't fit in an ask so here you go

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.

Ooh, black and yellow!

Let’s shake it up a little.

Barry! Breakfast is ready!

Coming!

Hang on a second.

Hello?

- Barry?

- Adam?

- Can 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 City

graduating class of…

…9:15.

That concludes our ceremonies.

And begins your career

at Honex Industries!

Will we pick our job 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.

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?

- Patches 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. Check 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’t just 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.

- Couple 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.

Come 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! Congratulations!

Step to the side.

- What’d you get?

- Picking crud out. Stellar!

Wow!

Couple 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.

Could be daisies. We don’t 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.

Careful, 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!

Coming 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.

Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!

Ken, could you close

the window please?

Ken, could you close

the window please?

Check 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. Come 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. Coffee?

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.

- Come 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 your job 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 Cinnabon 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!

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!

Crazy 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 Carl 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.

- Check 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,

Classy 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 Columbus?

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 Court 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 it would 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!

Call 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.

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 Chapstick 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.

Could 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.

Congratulations 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.

Can’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?

Cannonball!

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 Earl 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 not just 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.

Would you ask him to slow down?

Would 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 Captain 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!

- Hold it!

- Why? Come 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.

Come on. You got to think bee, Barry.

- 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!

Come 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.

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

Is. is. that the Bee Movie script-

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odaatlover · 5 years ago

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I know you're not shy about your weight loss so I was wondering if you can give any advice or tips on starting a weight loss journey. I work odd hours and going to a gym isn't feasible money wise. I know part of losing weight is eating right but idk how to, especially on nights I work late and grabbing a burger at McDonald's at 3am and passing out is easier than cooking.

OKAY, so this is a subject that I’m very passionate about so I’m about to info dump all over the place. Just a head’s up! 😂

I just want to start by saying that your mindset about weight loss and getting healthy is very important. There’s this guy who is a fitness coach named Jordan Syatt, and he has this motto called “you can’t fuck up” (YCFU). Meaning, the only way you can fail is if you quit. It doesn’t matter if you get off track for a day, a month, a year, whatever…as long as you get back on, you didn’t fuck up. That’s such an important mentality to have about it because often people will go on vacation, have a good time eating whatever they want, get back home and weigh themselves, and then when they see that they’ve gained weight they feel like they failed and then say “well, I’ve already messed up this much, might as well just screw it and continue eating whatever I want” and then they make it worse, when in reality all they had to do was get back on track as soon as they got home. I just went on vacation for a week, and I ate things like pizza, donuts, chips, you name it! Of course I also had healthy foods because that’s what I was craving, but during the times when we wanted to eat out, we weren’t as restrictive with ourselves. And we had a good time. And now that I’m home, I’m back to eating my regular foods. In fact, I was even craving my grilled salmon and broccoli that I love having for dinner lol. Did I gain weight? Heck yeah! But I didn’t fuck up, because I got back on track. And that’s what matters. In the past, I would’ve freaked out seeing that number on the scale go up (which honestly most of it was water weight anyways from all the sodium) and I would’ve just said “Ah well screw it, what’s the point.” and gained more weight. But this time around with this mentality of YCFU, I felt more at ease and it actually made it easier to get back on track. And I’m still craving the healthy foods over the ones that’ll make me feel sluggish and bloated!

My advice on how to start: As Nike says, Just do it. I know that sounds so simple, but honestly, it is. Often people will wait for this burst of inspiration or motivation, but if you wait around for that to come along then you’ll just be wasting time you could’ve spent bettering your health. Start now. It’s going to suck at first, you’re not going to want to do it, but you know what? Life is full of doing things that we don’t want to do. But you’ll begin to see results, and then those results will give you the motivation you seek. So, action. results. and then motivation to reach your goals. It’s not going to suck forever; only in the beginning. Then you’ll get to a point where it just becomes habit and you start to do it because you want to, not because you feel like you have to. And that mindset of “wanting to” as opposed to “being forced to” is so incredibly important for success.

As for where to start: 100% start with your eating habits. You don’t have to change everything right away. In fact, you shouldn’t. Some people start by going from eating fast food every day to completely changing to a raw vegan diet and running at the gym for 5 hours every day. Going to the extreme right at the start like this will only set you up for failure, because you’ll get burnt out and want to give up. Instead, change little things at a time and give yourself room to progress. Do you drink a lot of calories? (i.e. sodas, juices, Starbucks fraps, etc.) If so, start with changing that. Try cutting that stuff out and drink water instead. Or at least switch to zero calorie drinks. They’re not the healthiest, but they’re better than regular sodas, and you’ll be cutting out so many calories you probably didn’t even realize you were consuming. Most people lose at least 5 lbs just from that! So maybe do that the first week, then maybe the next week you can start switching other parts of your diet. Maybe that even means getting McDonald’s twice a week instead of every day, and making your own meals the rest of the time. Or maybe it’s cutting out fast food completely, but making homemade burgers. Just don’t feel like you have to change everything right away, because weight loss is a marathon, not a sprint. Those who lose weight quickly are more likely to gain it back. Ever seen The Biggest Loser? Prime example of this. It’s a lifetime commitment, not “oh I’ll eat healthy now and then when I reach my goal weight I can go back to eating McDonald’s all the time”.

I don’t like “fad diets” like Atkins, Weight Watchers, keto, etc., simply because they’re not sustainable. They’re meant to jump start weight loss, not to be something you do for the rest of your life. Most people who do these kinds of diets get bored or tired of it and they stop, but they don’t have any knowledge about the foods they’re eating and revert back to old habits. I’m not saying these diets aren’t good, because they can actually be really good tools for starting. But they’re beneficial ONLY if you understand why these diets are helping you lose weight. Knowledge is the most important tool here. Everyone knows that cake isn’t that good for you, but do you know why it’s not that good for you? Read food labels, learn about your body and how many calories you burn throughout the day, find which foods make you feel better versus ones that make you feel sluggish, and understand why. Do you know how much a serving size is of the food you’re eating? Do you know which foods have high protein? Do you know which fruits have a higher water content (apples, oranges, etc.) and will make you feel fuller longer than starchy fruits (bananas)? You can learn this without these diets quite easily. Which by the way, I’ve never done any kind of diet like that. In the end, you want something that’s sustainable. If you’re eating foods that you hate, that’s not sustainable. If you’re eating low carb or no carb, that’s not sustainable. Fitness and health doesn’t end when you get to your goal weight, it’s a lifetime kind of deal. So you have to find foods that you truly enjoy eating in order to make it sustainable. But knowledge, and applying that knowledge, is extremely important.

MEAL PREP IS YOUR BEST FRIEND. Nobody wants to cook dinner after a long day of work. I sure as hell don’t. So take some time on the weekends or days off to prepare your foods for the week. Put them in to-go containers so that all you have to do is pop them in the microwave when you get home. Things like casseroles and stews you don’t have to put in containers, but are still pre-made and can be popped in the microwave. There are also foods that don’t need much cooking, like tuna sandwiches or frozen veggies. Snacks that are easily accessible like berries or greek yogurt are good too. But if you know you’re going to go for the bag of chips over fruits, then don’t have them in the house. My wife and I are both the type who will eat an entire bag of chips or box of cookies in one sitting. So we don’t buy them. And if we do want chips or cookies, like really craving it, then we’ll get one of those individual ones from the gas station. But we won’t buy full bags or boxes. If they’re not in the house, they’re not an option. If you live with a partner, then having them on board with this is very important. I would not be able to do this if my wife bought cookies and chips all the time. We’re both on the same page, and that’s necessary. When I moved back home with my parents after college they had all kinds of bad stuff, and I couldn’t stay away from it. So I bought my own foods and used the mini fridge we had and had my own shelf on the rack by the wall so that I never opened the fridge or the pantry to even see what they had bought because it was too tempting. This can help if you have a partner who is not on the same page as you.

McDonald’s sounds appealing not only because it’s fast and easy, but because it tastes so damn good. And anybody who says it doesn’t is a liar lol. Because if it didn’t taste good, then they wouldn’t be making millions of dollars. Foods like that (Oreos, cereals, crackers, anything processed) are made to taste so good that nothing from the ground can replicate that taste or be as good. And that’s a dangerous thing, because that’s how they hook you. If you eat an Oreo and then eat a strawberry, you better believe that the strawberry is not going to taste as sweet! But the good news is, you can change your tastebuds to crave healthy foods. I don’t eat oreos, and strawberries taste pretty amazing to me and I crave them often. When grocery shopping, stay away from the middle aisles! That’s where all of the tempting processed stuff will be. Stay on the outsides. Again, it’s going to suck at first, but I promise you’ll begin to crave those healthy foods over fast food. But you just have to start!

As far as fitness goes, you don’t need a gym membership to lose weight. If you want one, I highly recommend Planet Fitness because it’s only $10/month (with a $29 startup fee and $39 annual fee), but you don’t need a gym membership. I go to the gym, not to help me lose weight, but so that I’m active. I do it to get stronger and to help me from getting winded going up one flight of stairs. Or so that if something attacks me I can run away. Or to help my back problems. But I don’t factor my fitness into my losing weight, because most of your calories burned come from everything else. I don’t even count how many calories I burn at the gym, because I just really don’t care. Eating healthy helps you lose weight, and going to the gym only speeds up that process a little. If you want to be more active, you can start by walking. I walk 30 minutes around the neighborhood everyday, and I absolutely love it. It helps clear my head. Whatever fitness thing you do, make sure it’s something you enjoy. If you hate running, don’t run. If you hate cycling, don’t go cycling. If you hate weight lifting, then don’t do it. But if you like yoga, then do that. Life isn’t meant to be grueling, so find something you enjoy that will benefit your health, because there’s something out there for you!

And the last thing I want to say is, don’t let the scale be your only tool to measure your weight loss. In fact, I don’t even like to call it “weight loss” but rather “fat loss” or “getting healthy”. Sure, use the scale every once in a while to see overall progress, but your weight fluctuates all the time. And muscle weighs more than fat. I’ve had times where I actually gained a pound or two, but I looked slimmer. Use other ways to measure your progress, such as how your clothes fit or by taking pictures of yourself and comparing those. But if you only use the scale, you’ll be disappointed because it won’t be a consistent drop in numbers, no matter how clean you eat and how much you exercise. That’s just how the human body works; it fluctuates because of things like water retention, not getting enough sleep, being stressed, etc.. If the scale hasn’t moved but you’re feeling better and clothes are starting to fit better, then you’re on the right track!

Whew. I know that was an excessive amount of information, but I wanted to share the most important things with you because feeling good about yourself is so important. This is all based on what I believe, and the most important thing is finding what works best for you! If you have any other questions, feel free to send me a DM or another ask, and I’ll gladly answer them! You can do this! 💪

#health advice #asks

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dokuhebi · 5 years ago

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A headcanon of what kind of spouse would Orochimaru be if they ever marry a man, woman, or a fellow non-binary like them and what are their expectations in such a relationship?

Hello anon, and thank you for the question Oro is a bit of a wild card, how they are as a spouse would largely depend on who they have married. They respond to the environment how they see fit, and will usually accommodate their partner where they feel is just, or behave differently in other regards to create a shift in dynamic if they feel something is unjust. But here are some more concrete traits and behaviours you can be sure you’ll see.What they would be like;- Expect Oro to get fully invested in their partners line of work. They find nothing more attractive than someone who is ambitious, if their partner has a hobby or job that is important to him/her/them, Oro will get just as invested so they can engage their partner regarding those subjects. They will read/study up on it, constantly be on the look out for opportunities etc. They would appreciate it if their partner showed equal interest in their own pursuits regarding science and jutsu development.

- They are very upfront and vocal about anything they see as worrisome/problematic. While they are always reclusive when it comes to their emotions, if they see a problem in their relationship, expect them to bring it up. They don’t sit brooding on something quietly, they put it on the table and expect their partner to maturely handle the issue with them. When something displeases them in the relationship, they’re not the type to sit with it and just endure it. So their partner can expect a bit of sharp tongued correction when doing something Oro disapproves of.- While they get intolerant when acquaintances invade their space, they’re very affectionate with the people they love. Their partner can expect to be used as a human chair more than not. Correcting their partners hair/clothes, stealing their partners warmth ( given how they get cold easily), and stealing kisses whenever they remind themself just how much they love the person.- Oro is not a traditional person by nature. They can appreciate and respect their partners tradition/culture, and they can offer moments of playing along, but don’t expect heavy influence on them as a person. They fall outside most social constructs and happily do their own thing in a way that is very fluid and free. They often feel stifled within a traditional setting, as it usually allocates behaviour/dress/activity norms within either gender brackets or position/rank brackets. They won’t be restricted to rules that dictate their own behaviour or dress, so there may come times where they step on their partners traditions to enforce their own need for freedom.- They are an incredibly protective, bordering on a bit possessive partner. While they don’t wish to restrict their own partners freedom, for someone bending to their will would be awfully boring for Oro, they do tend to be overly wrathful to those who wrong their partner. Be it an insult in passing toward their loved one, a threat on the persons life or any other altercation, if Oro can see their partner is backing down, or not putting himself/herself/themself first, they will intervene. Most likely privately on their own steam. Needless to say, it won’t be surprising if a few days after someone wrongs their partner, that very same person ends up mysteriously disappearing.- Tests. Expect to be tested. They have a very analytical way of living, they are constantly trying to work people out, to see what reaction they can get when acting a certain way, what they can get away with, what they can’t, which go to strategies helps them win a fight or argument etc. They may even test their partners beliefs by cross questioning them. They never mean any harm by it, but they are incredibly curious. They can not help but find the human mind and nature incredibly fascinating. Sometimes they push their luck just to see what response they get. Usually, being called out on this behaviour or asked to back off will have them doing just that. But they fall in to old patterns again.- As with most things, they can appreciate both sides of the spectrum regarding a more ‘traditional’ family. Having children and living in a homely dynamic is not something they appose. Just don’t expect them to ever be a stay-at-home anything. They are happy to balance a life of family and their work, but they would never give up their research for any partner or life. - Ultimately, they have a very shinobi minded viewpoint of love. That is to say, they’re very bad at it. It is foreign territory to them and they are bound to come off as cold from time to time. They struggle to simply be open about their own emotions, they mess up being overly critical of a situation, they are bound to step out of line a lot. So their partner can expect to be, figuratively speaking, put in jail here and there. If Oro senses deception, or feels they are being taken for a ride, they will respond as they see accordingly. It’s best to take any cutting remark with a pinch of salt and talk them down, they’re more than willing to step down and admit to being wrong (after the smoke has cleared). What they expect; They have a few loose expectations, but again, this comes down to a person by person case. They can adapt quite easily, and if the person has caught their attention, they are able to make compromises on certain things.- first and foremost, they want someone confident, competent and strong willed, someone more dominant in nature. If they wanted another subservient follower, they would find the company of a blindly loyal Oto nin. They want someone who is their equal, and with them respect if very much earned. They need someone who can rise to their level, who in their eyes is worthy of being beside them. This does not have to be physical competence. The person doesn’t need to outclass them in battle, but personality wise, they need someone strong willed and resilient. Weakness in general is a large turn off, as they have little interest in human fragility. - Speaking of resilience, they’re going to be a handful at times with their stubborn nature and runaway ideas. They need someone who can lay down some firm boundaries while allowing them to explore the world how they want to. Don’t stifle them, but they also don’t want a partner who will let them walk all over him/her/them. Sometimes they push their luck just to see how far they can get and how much they can get. They are far more likely to be impressed someone tells them to revise their approach than they are to be offended. - Bring something new to their life. They don’t need someone who loves science, who has their morals/beliefs, who’s pet favourite is also a reptile. The more diversity the better, they want their partner to tell them why their morals are different from his/hers/theirs, to teach them about a new profession or hobby, they love to learn first and foremost. Someone who can engage them in new world views and help them come to more rounded answers themself is just what they need. - Open minded, while they enjoy someone who gives them new ideas and views, they expect their partner to give them complete freedom to still be as they are, and who they are. As a prime example, regarding their gender fluidity, they would have an issue with being boxed in as one or the other. Don’t expect them to adhere to, or fall in to, one gender role for the sake of their partner. They decide how they want to exist, how they behave, what they wear, and it never revolves around the norms of gender role. All in all, they need someone who can get on board with their lifestyle, who can adapt just as easily as them to new tasks and places. They may want to spend an entire day cuddling and fussing with their lover in lazy admiration for one another, but will be back to taking over the world the following morning. Someone who can enjoy quiet moments along with chaotic ones does well with Oro.Ultimately it mostly comes down to not stifling or boxing them in, as they are very free spirited. More often than not, they’ll try aid any situation to ensure they aren’t being boxed in. For example, they typically take on the physical gender of their partner where they can. If they’re with a woman, they’ll anatomy-wise present female, if they’re with a man, they will anatomy-wise present male. This just helps eradicate the gender line, where so often the man is expected to do one thing, the woman another. So by adopting the same sex anatomy wise, they can instantly eliminate that pattern from continuing. Fellow non-binary partners won’t need to apply to this rule for obvious reasons~Again, thank you for the ask

#Anonymous #蛇 HEADCANON; unraveling the serpent #<3 #/long post

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garageprojectmotorcycles · 5 years ago

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Royal Enfield Continental GT650 review / ride report.

When was the last time you read a bad bike review in a magazine or online? Was it the debacle that was the Bimota V Due? Even Braap’s are given a positive spin by reviewers even though they had 5 product recalls in less than a year. So many motorcycle reviews these day are either a reworded press release or a well written advertisement. Now I reckon there are two reasons for that; the sceptic in me says if the magazines don’t write a positive review, then the advertising dollars stop flowing. There are plenty of examples of that car companies having a dummy spit when they don’t win car of the year so it no doubt happens in the motorcycle world too. The other reason is that it’s 2019, motorcycles have been manufactured for a long time, manufacturers have got the basics down pat. This is were Royal Enfield excels, the basics.

I wasn’t planning on writing a review but my bike was getting serviced and it wasn’t going to be ready in time for the Perth Café Racer Run to the Hills ride, so I needed a suitable replacement. As my review of the Benelli Leoncino got an amazing 36 likes (amazing because that’s 34 more than I thought it would get once Ric and I liked it) and a couple of sales, I thought Ric might be open to the idea of handing me the keys to something else. Scanning the showroom floor at MotoMax, a Ducati Sport Classic, Triumph Thruxton, Rickman Honda and a cluster of classics caught my eye. Ric handed me the keys to a mildly customised Continental GT650. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers.

We both had conditions, Ric’s was simple “Bring it back with a full tank you tight arse bastard and if you drop it, you bu….”. I’m not sure what he said as Peter was saying “look, look” while pointing at a lady across the road who was jogging past. It was far more interesting watching the world go up and down. My condition was the same as always, I wasn’t going to write a positive review just because I got a bike for the weekend. If the bike is shit, then I’ll say so but you don’t have to post the review. So here it is….hang on…before we get to the review, lets get some background.

Royal Enfield sold 32,000 motorcycles in 2017 and not many of those were sold outside of India. They now sometimes sell double that in one month with their top selling model the Classic 350 outselling all their other models combined. It sometimes cracks the monthly top 10 list of number of bikes sold in India. Royal Enfield sells more Classic 350’s in one month than all the road bikes sold in Australia from all brands in one year. Unfathomable figures when you consider the company was at the brink of bankruptcy in 1991.

When Sid Lal’s dad bought the company, nothing really changed until 2010 when the Indian Tech economy boomed and hipsters finally had some disposable cash. Sales picked up and then skyrocketed the company to the fastest growing motorcycle manufacturer in the world. The success of the brand in recent times is partly because they upgraded (think EFI, ABS etc) their Bullet/Classic line to make it relevant while keeping the looks of the old motorcycle. Boomers started realising their bucket lists were getting longer and they were running out of time to cross stuff off. Learners around the world are often restricted to motorcycles that take more time to get to 100km/h than it does for a politician to answer question in parliament and Royal Enfields are perfect for that market.

The increase in sales meant Sid (the CEO at the time) had cash burning a hole in his pocket so off he went to the UK and bought Harris Performance which I remember reading about in the UK magazines for making custom frames for GP bikes. They’ve developed the chassis for all the new models including the Continental GT Café Racer, the Himalayan adventure bike and the recent 650 twins. The Café Racer handled as good as it looked but it didn’t get many hearts racing and only sold in low numbers, hence it was discontinued after a couple of years. The Himalayan has been known to get a few hearts racing which has more to do with them being ridden where they are named after. A devoted fan base will see the Himalayan continue to be developed for many years. The real game changer for Royal Enfield though, are the two 650 twins, the Interceptor and the Continental GT 650. Royal Enfield are exporting more than they are selling domestically and dealers in Oz are selling far more twins than they are of the 350cc and 500cc singles.

I’m not a brand snob so will any bike I can get the keys to. My list of motorcycle brands I’d like to put my bum on is topped, like most peoples, by the Italian exotics such as Bimota, MV Agusta etc. For me, Royal Enfield sits a long way down that list; I’m no fan boy who gets excited when a manufacturer changes the colour and releases it as a 2020 model. I lived in the world of sportsbikes and track days so Royal Enfields never registered on my radar; I always felt they were a little weird looking. Sort of like a girlfriend I had in the 90’s that looked like a cockeyed Nicole Kidman without the Botox. Like my girlfriend, if you ride a Royal Enfield a few times you start appreciate the attraction and you end up falling in love. Since my first Himalayan motorcycle adventure in 2013, I have ridden all of the Royal Enfield models in Australia and in the harshest of conditions that the Himalayas can throw at you and while I still wouldn’t consider myself a fan boy, I would say I was an advocaat. Damn, it’s 11pm and I’m out of beer and wishing I had a liqueur cabinet. Is there an Uber drinks?

The Conti I got had a few subtle changes made to it. The tank hand been replaced with the rounder tank from an interceptor, bar end mirrors had been fitted and the bike had been encouraged to find its voice with some aftermarket reverse cones mufflers fitted. The bar end mirrors worked perfectly, completely vibration free all through the rev range however the bike was a little quiet for my liking. You could certainly hear it under throttle and it let out pleasing pops and crackles on a decline but I’d like a deeper, louder sound. More Tom Jones than George Michael. If you’ve got standard pipes on your bike and you’re bored with it and possibly considering a change of bike, put an aftermarket set of pipes on and you’ll fall in love again. The Interceptor tank looked great on the Conti and helped take my eyes off what I consider to be the ugliest seat in the market. For some reason, Royal Enfield in Australia decided that the dual seat would be standard and the solo seat with a cowling that is used for the promo pics, and is standard in most of the 50 other countries that it is sold in would be option for Australia. I know looks are subjective but the transformation that the single seat makes on this bike is amazing and I wonder why more people aren’t swapping them over when it is such a cheap option. Maybe it’s just me.

I am trying to squeeze myself into my daughters Katy Perry T-Shirt when Andy arrives early on his Ducati Sport Classic. With no time for Small Talk, it was time to Roar into Leederville to meet the others. We took the back roads before getting onto the freeway and this is the Conti’s playground. With narrow 100/18’s on the front and 130/18’s on the back, the bike flicks left and right really quickly. On familiar roads, I found myself turning in too quickly and having to readjust my line which the bike did without drama. Later on in the day when the speeds picked up a little and the mercury wanted to blow its load, the front end felt squirmish when going over the bitumen that is poured into the cracks of the road. No one else felt it so again, maybe it was just me.

Our group heading to the start point of the ride consisted of a Sport Classic with Zard pipes, a Thruxton with Staintunes, a V7 Guzzi with Lanfranconis, a Honda CB1100 with an aftermarket 4 into 1 and a W650 with open pipes. It was amazing listening to all the different sounds as we lined up at the Christmas trees, sometimes known as traffic lights by boring people. The Sport Classic consistently got the jump on the rest of at the lights but the rest of us all had a turn at coming second without any clear next fastest. The Conti is styled as a Café Racer of old but it is no race bike with ligths like they were in the old days. Sid Lal himself says “…we (Royal Enfield motorcycles) aren’t going much faster than 100 miles an hour. If someone wants a quicker motorbike, go elsewhere.” During the week, the media reported that a car was hooning through the tunnel at the outrageous speed of 140km/h. The bar had been set low so there was simply no need to crack the ton in the tunnel. Absolutely no need. By my calcs, I reckon 170+ is possible but as I never break the speed limits I’ll never find out.

Riding along the Tonkin, I rolled the throttle on and off, looking for flat spots but couldn’t find any, it just smoothly accelerates all the way to the redline in a very linear fashion. The 5 speed box has perfectly spaced gear ratios and I rarely looked for a 6th like I constantly do on my W650. We joined the rest of the riders and took off along the escarpment as the pace crept up through the hills. The bike was in its element, enjoying being thrown around and asking for more. I worked my way to the front of the pack and when there was a break in the traffic I gave it what it wanted and took off. On these sort of roads, I neither needed or wanted anymore power, I just enjoyed rolling the throttle on and rolling it off coming into a corner, letting the engine compression slow me down with only a slight dab on the rear brake when needed. The Pirelli Phantoms had more than enough grip and never troubled the ABS system. I considered putting the Phantoms on my bike but baulked at the price so Royal Enfield aren’t skimping on quality to ensure they stay at the $9990 price point.

After a cool down and a group photo, we headed to lunch at Parkerville and to pay our respects to Kevin the kookaburra who had his head ripped off recently by a complete and utter wanker. As we hit the road again, I found my right hand feeling a bit tingly which is a little unusual. My bike has thicker grips so maybe the thinner grips on the Conti passed on the vibes or maybe I’m just old and the years of abuse I’ve given my right hand is coming back to bite me. The suspension soaked up the bumpy roads but my bum was starting to feel a bit numb. The seat looks flat but is actually slightly rounded which was giving me numb bum…which would have come in handy when it also got years of abuse in a previous life. These are the only two faults with the Conti GT that I could find, both of which wouldn’t stop me buying one as I’d change the hideous seat and put thicker grips on anyway. Everything else was perfect; the horn is louder than my cars, the clocks are easy to read, clutch and brake lever action is effortless, the gearbox is ridiculously smooth, riding position is spot on.

At under 10k, the only bike that is comparable to the Conti is its stablemate the Interceptor. The visually challenged Harley 750 is being run out a similar price, Suzuki threw a bikini fairing on its SV650 and called it café racer and is watching them gather dust on the showroom. The Benelli Leoncino and the oddly styled Husqvarna Svartpilen are similar prices but I doubt the circles in the Venn diagram of people interested in these three bikes would overlap.

For $13,000, the W800 from Kawasaki is another option but I’d rather have the Conti and spend the difference on customising it. The only other option is to buy a Triumph Street Twin at $16,000 and then throw some money at it to make it a café racer. Buying a bike that 100’s of other people have got and keeping it standard, doesn’t make any sense to me. If I had Triumph money to spend and the option was to have stock a Street Twin or a one of a kind Continental GT with a big bore kit, killer paint job, custom seat and a custom exhaust then it’s a no brainer. I’m in the minority though as most riders are happy with buying a good looking bike and leaving it alone. The Continental GT can be enjoyed as is but also makes a very smart choice as base for a custom motorcycle.

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