why must i love men who do not know my existence

“Lemonade” poetry bits

Intuition

I tried to make a home outta you.
But doors lead to trapdoors. A stairway leads to nothing.
Unknown women wander the hallways at night.
Where do you go when you go quiet?
You remind me of my father, a magician. Able to exist in two places at once.
In the tradition of men in my blood you come home at 3AM and lie to me.
What are you hiding? The past, and the future merge to meet us here.
What luck. What a fucking curse.


Denial

I tried to change.
Closed my mouth more.
Tried to be soft, prettier.
Less…awake.

Fasted for 60 days.
Wore white.
Abstained from mirrors.
Abstained from sex.
Slowly did not speak another word.

In that time my hair grew past my ankles.
I slept on a mat on the floor.
I swallowed a sword.
I levitated… into the basement, I confessed my sins and was baptized in a river.
Got on my knees and said, “Amen.” And said I mean. I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet.
I threw myself into a volcano.
I drank the blood and drank the wine.
I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God.
I crossed myself and thought… I saw the devil.
I grew thickened skin on my feet.
I bathed…in bleach and plugged my menses with pages from the Holy Book.
But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know.
Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?


Anger

If this what you truly want.
I can wear her skin…over mine.
Her hair, over mine.
Her hands as gloves.
Her teeth as confetti.
Her scalp, a cap.
Her sternum, my bedazzled cane.
We can pose for a photograph.
All three of us, immortalized.
You and your perfect girl.

I don’t know when love became elusive.
What I know is no one I know has it.
My father’s arms around my mother’s neck.
Fruit too ripe to eat.

I think of lovers as trees…
…growing to and from one another.
Searching for the same light.
Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you see me? (Why can’t you) Why can’t you see me? Everyone else can.


Apathy

So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me?

Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness.

Her God was listening.
Her heaven would be a love without betrayal.
Ashes to ashes…dust to side chicks.


Emptiness

She sleeps all day…dreams of you in both worlds.

Tills the blood in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc.
Grief, sedated by orgasm.
Orgasm heightened by grief.
God was in the room when the man said to the woman, “I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.”
Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh my God.” That, too, is a form of worship.
Her hips grind pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves, whenever he pulls out.

Loss.
Dear moon, we blame you for floods…for the flush of blood…for men who are also wolves. We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.

Every fear…
Every nightmare…anyone has ever had.


Accountability

You find the black tube inside her beauty case.
Where she keeps your father’s old prison letters.
You desperately want to look like her.
You look nothing like your mother.
You look everything like your mother.
Film star, beauty.
How to wear your mother’s lipstick.
You go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick.
Somewhere no one can find you.
You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face.
Your mother is a woman.
And women like her can not be contained.

Mother dearest, let me inherit the Earth.
Teach me how to make him beg.
Let me make up for the years he made you wait.
Did he bend your reflection?
Did he make you forget your own name?
Did he convince you he was a God?
Did you get on your knees daily?
Do his eyes close like doors?
Are you a slave to the back of his head?
Am I talking about your husband or your father?


Reformation

He bathes me…
…until I forget their names…and faces.
I ask him to look me in the eye when I come…home.
Why do you deny yourself heaven?
Why do you consider yourself undeserving?
Why are you afraid of love? You think it’s not possible for someone like you.
But you are the love of my life…love of my life…the love of my life…the love of my life.


Forgiveness

Baptize me…
…now that reconciliation is possible.
If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious.
One thousand girls raise their arms.

Do you remember being born?

Are you thankful?
Are the hips that cracked…
…the deep velvet of your mother…
…and her mother…
…and her mother?
There is a curse that will be broken.


Resurrection

You are terrifying…
…and strange…
…and beautiful.


Hope

The nail technician pushes my cuticles back…
…turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says:
“I see your daughters, and their daughters.”
That night in a dream the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach.
The scar heals into a smile.
The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails.
We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath.
I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat.
A flower blossoming out of the hole in my face.


Redemption

Take one pint of water, add a half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons…
…the zest of half lemon.
Pour the water from one jug, then into the other, several times.
Strain through a clean napkin.

Grandmother, the alchemist.
You spun gold out of this hard life.
Conjured beauty from the things left behind.
Found healing where it did not live.
Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen.
Broke the curse with your own two hands.
You passed these instructions down to your daughter.
Who then passed it down to her daughter.

My grandma said, nothing real can be threatened.
True love brought salvation back into me.
With every tear came redemption.
And my torturer became my remedy.

So we’re gonna heal, we’re gonna start again.
You’ve brought the orchestra.
Synchronized swimmers, you are the magician.
Pull me back together again the way you cut me in half.
Make the woman in doubt disappear.
Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot.
The audience applauds…
…but we can’t hear them.


Warsan Shire

NHL!Bitty, Part IX - ‘Loose Lips Sink Ships’

(Alright, you guys voted for #2, so enjoy!)

Eric gets hit on in a hotel bar during All-Star weekend. For the first time in a long time, it’s not because he’s a famous hockey player.

It would be very flattering, except the man trying to seduce him works for Jack’s PR firm, and bro is playing fast and loose with some seriously confidential information. 

NHL!Bitty Masterpost!


It’s been a long, exhausting day. Between the flight, check-in, the press junket, the photo ops, all Eric wants is to get a little bit drunk with the guys, grab some dinner, and fool around in Jack’s hotel room. Hopefully in that order, but he’s open to fooling around whenever.

He must have a dopey smile on his face thinking about the debauchery he’s been looking forward to all week when he realizes someone is watching him from across the bar. 

Tall, nice hair, professional, and he’s looking at Eric, no, at the empty chair next to him. And he’s walking over. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Keep reading

The Last Unicorn (1982) starters.
  • ❛  I dislike the feel of these woods.  ❜
  • ❛  Unicorns? I thought they only existed in fairytales.  ❜
  • ❛  This is a forest like any other. Isn’t it ?  ❜
  • ❛  Let’s turn around. Hunt somewhere else.  ❜
  • ❛  This is no world for you.  ❜
  • ❛  Good luck to you, for you are the last.  ❜
  • ❛  What do men know ?  ❜
  • ❛  We are as old as the sky, old as the moon.  ❜
  • ❛  We can be hunted, we can be trapped, we can even be killed but we do not vanish !  ❜
  • ❛  Have you traveled very far ?  ❜
  • ❛  Be a little respectful, do you know who I am ?  ❜
  • ❛  Your name is a golden bell, hung in my heart.  ❜
  • ❛  I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.  ❜
  • ❛  In all your wanderings, have you seen others like me ?  ❜
  • ❛  Have you seen the others? Where have they gone? Tell me which way I must go to find them.  ❜
  • ❛  No, no, listen ! Don’t listen to me, listen !  ❜
  • ❛  You can find the others if you are brave.  ❜
  • ❛  What if they’re waiting for me ? In need of my help ?  ❜
  • ❛  Well hello there little one !  ❜
  • ❛  And just who might you belong to ? a pretty little thing like you ?  ❜
  • ❛  In my heart I carry such a heavy load.  ❜
  • ❛  And here I thought I’d seen the last of them !  ❜
  • ❛  I know you. If I were blind I would know what you are.  ❜
  • ❛  You wouldn’t have heard of me.  ❜
  • ❛  It’s not much of a job for a real magician, but I’ve had worse.  ❜
  • ❛  You’re mine. If you kill me, you’re still mine.  ❜
  • ❛  Your death sits in that cage and she hears you.  ❜
  • ❛  She’ll kill me one day or another, but she will remember forever that I caught her, that I held her prisoner. So there’s my immortality.  ❜
  • ❛  You were out on the road hunting for your own death !  ❜
  • ❛  He’ll not have you ! You belong to me.  ❜
  • ❛  We are two sides of the same magic.  ❜
  • ❛  You are safer here. You should thank me for protecting you.  ❜
  • ❛  There has never been a spell on me before.  ❜
  • ❛  It’s a very rare person who is taken for what he truly is.  ❜
  • ❛  Will you help me ?  ❜
  • ❛  You’re my last chance.  ❜
  • ❛  Can you truly set me free ?  ❜
  • ❛  I asked him a riddle and it always takes that lout all night to solve riddles.  ❜
  • ❛  the spell was wrong but there was true magic in it ! try again.  ❜
  • ❛  My dear you deserve the services of a great wizard but I’m afraid you’ll have to be glad of the aide of a second rate pickpocket.  ❜
  • ❛  Okay, (name), I give up. Why is a raven like a writing desk ?  ❜
  • ❛  She’ll kill you if you set her free !  ❜
  • ❛  Don’t look back, and don’t run.  ❜
  • ❛  You must never run from anything immortal, it attracts their attention.  ❜
  • ❛  She chose her death long ago. It was the fate she wanted.  ❜
  • ❛  You have no regrets as I do ?  ❜
  • ❛  I’ve never seen anyone like you. Not while I was awake, anyway.  ❜
  • ❛  I’m going where they are, to learn whatever they know.  ❜
  • ❛  Take me with you ! for luck, for laughs, for the unknown.  ❜
  • ❛  You could never have granted my true wish.  ❜
  • ❛  I cannot turn you into something you are not.  ❜
  • ❛  Hide yourself ! We’ll find each other later.  ❜
  • ❛  Mind your heads now, it’s raining ninnies !  ❜
  • ❛  Put me down you fool !  ❜
  • ❛  I don’t like the look of him.  ❜
  • ❛  That’s only (name)’s way, but she has a good heart.  ❜
  • ❛  This is not happening.  ❜
  • ❛  We’ll both be gentlemen of leisure in a months time.  ❜
  • ❛  Oh, I love you.  ❜
  • ❛  She shall never have you !  ❜
  • ❛  We will perish together.  ❜
  • ❛  Did you see me ? Were you watching ?  ❜
  • ❛  Did you see what I made ?  ❜
  • ❛  It’s gone now, but I had it !  ❜
  • ❛  Where have you been ? Where have you been ! ?  ❜
  • ❛  Where were you when I was new ?  ❜
  • ❛  How dare you come to me now when I am this !  ❜
  • ❛  It’s alright, I forgive you.  ❜
  • ❛  You can’t come with us ! we’re on a quest !  ❜
  • ❛  Well, you’re going the wrong way.  ❜
  • ❛  You have all the power you need if you dare to look for it.  ❜
  • ❛  What have you done ! ?  ❜
  • ❛  The power will come to me whenever I need it, and one day! One day it will come to me when I call !  ❜
  • ❛  You are an idiot !  ❜
  • ❛  Don’t ! Don’t you hurt yourself !  ❜
  • ❛  I can feel this body dying all around me !  ❜
  • ❛  You are losing my interest, and that is very dangerous.  ❜
  • ❛  I will keep nothing near me that does not make me happy.  ❜
  • ❛  How would you know ?  ❜
  • ❛  Well, just look at you !  ❜
  • ❛  Come on, I’ll write you a reference.  ❜
  • ❛  You have let your doom in by the front door !  ❜
  • ❛  What are you looking at ?  ❜
  • ❛  What is the matter with your eyes ?  ❜
  • ❛  You may come and go as you please.  ❜
  • ❛  My secrets guard themselves, may yours do the same.  ❜
  • ❛  Please, let me help you. What can I do for you ?  ❜
  • ❛  And then she looked at me and I was sorry I had killed the thing.  ❜
  • ❛  For her sake I’ve become a hero but my great deeds mean nothing to her !  ❜
  • ❛  I wish to be whatever she has most need of.  ❜
  • ❛  You are cruel to him.  ❜
  • ❛  He only wishes you to think of him.  ❜
  • ❛  Who am I ? Why am I here ?  ❜
  • ❛  I knew a moment ago, but I have forgotten.  ❜
  • ❛  I was innocent and wise and full of pain.  ❜
  • ❛  Now that I’m a woman, everything has changed.  ❜
  • ❛  Why won’t you help me ? Why must you always speak in riddles ?  ❜
  • ❛  I would tell you what you want to know if I could.  ❜
  • ❛  I am always dreaming, even when I am awake. It is never finished.  ❜
  • ❛  I would court you with more grace if I knew how.  ❜
  • ❛  Drown out my dreams. Keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it.  ❜
  • ❛  Words are always getting in my way.  ❜
  • ❛  That’s all I have to tell you. That’s all I’ve got to say.  ❜
  • ❛  I’m not a man of poetry. Music isn’t one with me.  ❜
  • ❛  As if I didn’t have enough troubles.  ❜
  • ❛  Well of course you’re of noble birth, anyone could see that.  ❜
  • ❛  Love is slowing you down, my lady.  ❜
  • ❛  It was pleasant enough at first, but it died quickly.  ❜
  • ❛  There is nothing of yours that I desire.  ❜
  • ❛  There is no movement of yours that has not betrayed you.  ❜
  • ❛  I like to watch them. They fill me with joy.  ❜
  • ❛  The first time I felt it, I thought I was going to die.  ❜
  • ❛  Do you dare still pretend to be human ?  ❜
  • ❛  It makes no difference. The end will be the same. I can wait.  ❜
  • ❛  Shut up you pretentious kneecap !  ❜
  • ❛  How would you like a punch in the eye ?  ❜
  • ❛  It’s so nice to have someone to play with.  ❜
  • ❛  Try me tomorrow. Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.  ❜
  • ❛  Give it to me if you don’t want it but don’t throw it away !  ❜
  • ❛  Give me the wine !  ❜
  • ❛  You would have gone without me ?  ❜
  • ❛  No name you could give her would surprise or frighten me.  ❜
  • ❛  I love whom I love.  ❜
  • ❛  I will go no further.  ❜
  • ❛  Everything dies. I want to die when you die.  ❜
  • ❛  Yes, that is my wish.  ❜
  • ❛  I am a hero, and heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen.  ❜
  • ❛  A quest may not simply be abandoned.  ❜
  • ❛  A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.  ❜
  • ❛  What if there isn’t a happy ending at all ?  ❜
  • ❛  There are no happy endings, because nothing ends.  ❜
  • ❛  Do something ! You have the power ! I will kill you if you don’t do something !  ❜
  • ❛  That’s what heroes are for.  ❜
  • ❛  I’ve never had any friends before.  ❜
  • ❛  Men don’t always know when they’re happy.  ❜
  • ❛  I’m sorry. I have done you evil and I cannot undo it.  ❜
  • ❛  No sorrow will live in me as long as that joy.  ❜

a post on some shit i’ve seen

“I have a male character, but they’re very feminine so I think they might be a trans woman.”

This is not how being trans works. Being gender non-conforming =/= trans. Here is a list of reasons why this is sexist and transphobic.

  • It implies that men and women must behave a certain way and that anyone who does not adhere to these gender roles must be a different gender.
  • It implies that gender non-conforming trans people do not exist.
  • It negates sex dyshoria.
  • It enforces gender roles.
  • It enforces stereotypes and misconceptions trans people have been fighting against for a long time.

Your male character can be feminine without being trans. They are still a man.

“It’s offensive to describe trans people as being ‘born in the wrong body’.”

No, it’s not.

This is a narrative that many trans people use because it is an easy and succinct way to describe sex dysphoria. Dysphoria is more complicated than this, but this narrative is not offensive.

Stop silencing dysphoric people. Your character can describe themselves like this if they so choose to.

“I have a male character, but I picture him as having little body hair and wide hips, so I think I might make him a trans man–”

This is offensive. If you make a character trans because they posses physical characteristics that are seen as “undesirable” or “not typical” on people of their sex, then you are sexist and transphobic. 

Cis men can have wide hips and little body hair. Trans men can have narrow hips and a strong jaw. Cis women can have lots of body hair and a deep voice. Trans women can be short and curvy.

“My character is androgynous and it’s difficult to tell their gender so I’m making them non binary.”

Okay…

  • By claiming that non binary people are always androgynous appearing, you are creating a new set of gender roles and expectations while simultaneously doing everything in the first thing I talked about.
  • “Non binary” and “gender non-conforming” are not synonyms, but this doesn’t mean non binary people can’t be/aren’t gender non-conforming.

“Cis people are boring so my characters are all trans.”

This is the wrong mindset when talking about representation for trans people and when writing trans characters. When you equate “cis” to “boring” and “trans” to “cool” and “interesting,”, you are fetishizing and dehumanizing trans people. 

We are not trendy accessories that will make your story better simply by being there.

BTW, boring trans people exist. Because, you know, we’re people and not this year’s most popular Christmas gift.

“Reveal that your character is trans by showing their scars/body.”

Allies and transphobes alike have a fascination with the bodies of trans people. It has gotten to the point where “allies” spread private information about the medical lives of trans people to the general public. This has turned into a “how to spot a trans person” game.

Your characters do not need to be half-naked to show that they are trans.

“Dysphoria is self-loathing and can end up bringing too much angst to your story.”

Dysphoria is not self-loathing. This is a huge misconception. Dysphoria is a disconnect between someone’s brain and their physical sex.

When people experience sex dysphoria, their sex characteristics feel foreign. It is not simply “hating your body.” That narrative should not be used in fiction. Ever. It is false. Body positive feminists (both lib and rad) use it to vilify sex dysphoric people.

Do not ignore dysphoria. A lot of people don’t know what it actually is and confuse it for internalized misogyny. Dysphoria needs to be a part of fiction featuring trans characters so that we can work to end the misconceptions about it.

Also, do not “cure” your character’s dypshoria with love or romance or sex or self-acceptance. That’s not how it works.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let’s shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can’t. I’ll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I’m excited. Here’s the graduate. We’re very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B’s. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That’s me! - Wave to us! We’ll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I’d make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I’m glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I’m not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don’t waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That’s why we don’t need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp… under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of… …9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it’s just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it’ll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as… Honey! - That girl was hot. - She’s my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we’re all cousins. - Right. You’re right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it’s done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you’ll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn’t know that. What’s the difference? You’ll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven’t had one day off in 27 million years. So you’ll just work us to death? We’ll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! “What’s the difference?” How can you say that? One job forever? That’s an insane choice to have to make. I’m relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We’re bees. We’re the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don’t know. But you know what I’m talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I’ve never seen them this close. They know what it’s like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don’t come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You’re monsters! You’re sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don’t know. Their day’s not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That’s more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It’s just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you’re wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren’t they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let’s have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I’d knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn’t it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We’re hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you’re not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We’re going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you’re interested in? - Well, there’s a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It’s a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn’t right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That’s a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son’s not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I’m not trying to be funny. You’re not funny! You’re going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You’re gonna be a stirrer? - No one’s listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I’m gonna get an ant tattoo! Let’s open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I’ll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody “dawg”! I’m so proud. - We’re starting work today! - Today’s the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal… - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them’s yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What’d you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What’s available? Restroom attendant’s open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you’re on. I’m sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey’s always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He’s dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That’s life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should… Barry? Barry! All right, we’ve got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine… What happened to you? Where are you? - I’m going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You’re gonna die! You’re crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone’s feeling brave, there’s a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn’t that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck’s restricted. It’s OK, Lou. We’re gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy’s in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That’s awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let’s move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I’m out! I can’t believe I’m out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It’s got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It’s a little bit of magic. That’s amazing. Why do we do that? That’s pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I’m picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don’t we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You’re reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don’t know, but I’m loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It’s a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama’s little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don’t think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you’re about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There’s a bee in the car! - Do something! - I’m driving! - Hi, bee. - He’s back here! He’s going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don’t move, he won’t sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow… the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan’t fly in rain. Oan’t fly in rain. Oan’t fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don’t need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This… Drapes! That is diabolical. It’s fantastic. It’s got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What’s number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don’t go for that… …kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn’t talk to them. They’re out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they’re flabbergasted, can’t believe what I say. There’s the sun. Maybe that’s a way out. I don’t remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don’t kill him! You know I’m allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I’m just saying all life has value. You don’t know what he’s capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I’m not scared of him. It’s an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It’s a bee law. You’re not supposed to talk to a human. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve got to. Oh, I can’t do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can’t. How should I start it? “You like jazz?” No, that’s no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I’m sorry. - You’re talking. - Yes, I know. You’re talking! I’m so sorry. No, it’s OK. It’s fine. I know I’m dreaming. But I don’t recall going to bed. Well, I’m sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you’re a bee! I am. And I’m not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn’t for you… I had to thank you. It’s just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I’m talking with a bee. - Yeah. I’m talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I’m grateful. I’ll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. “Mama, Dada, honey.” You pick it up. - That’s very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn’t laugh, we’d cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway… Oan I… …get you something? - Like what? I don’t know. I mean… I don’t know. Ooffee? I don’t want to put you out. It’s no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It’s just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don’t be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn’t. - Have some. - No, I can’t. - Oome on! I’m trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don’t help. You look great! I don’t know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He’s making the tie in the cab as they’re flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, “Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?” Is that a bee joke? That’s the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don’t know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can’t do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look… There’s my hive right there. See it? You’re in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I’m right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It’s like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I’ll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it’s no trouble. Sorry I couldn’t finish it. If I did, I’d be up the rest of my life. Are you…? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then… I guess I’ll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again… for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but… Anyway… This can’t possibly work. He’s all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can’t believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don’t. - How’d you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I’m glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your “experience.” Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well… - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I’m not attracted to spiders. I know it’s the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can’t get by that face. So who is she? She’s… human. No, no. That’s a bee law. You wouldn’t break a bee law. - Her name’s Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She’s so nice. And she’s a florist! Oh, no! You’re dating a human florist! We’re not dating. You’re flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin’ stripey! And that’s not what they eat. That’s what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It’s bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up… Sit down! …really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We’re us. There’s us and there’s them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There’s no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He’s in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It’s been three days! Why aren’t you working? I’ve got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You’re barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father’s talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I’m talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I’ll catch up. Don’t be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We’re still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn’t respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don’t listen! I’m not listening to this. Sorry, I’ve gotta go. - Where are you going? - I’m meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can’t decide? Bye. I just hope she’s Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that’s every florist’s dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I’ve got one. How come you don’t fly everywhere? It’s exhausting. Why don’t you run everywhere? It’s faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That’s insane! You don’t have that? We have Hivo, but it’s a disease. It’s a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It’s usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It’s a bug. He’s not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic ‘N’ Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You’ve really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I’ll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don’t have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it’s hard to make it! There’s heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It’s organic. - It’s our-ganic! It’s just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don’t know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You’ve taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it’s on sale?! I’m getting to the bottom of this. I’m getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I’ll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You’re busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you’ll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who’s your supplier? I don’t understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You’re too late! It’s ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they’re on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You’re not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I’m going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I’m going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It’s your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I’m Oarl Kasell. But don’t kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they’re getting it. I mean, that honey’s ours. - Bees hang tight. - We’re all jammed in. It’s a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you’re out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don’t want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood’s about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I’d catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it’s pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee’s got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That’s the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. “They make the honey, and we make the money”? Oh, my! What’s going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn’t last too long. Do you know you’re in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That’s a man in women’s clothes! That’s a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There’s hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That’s a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That’s a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He’s been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn’t stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it’s true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That’s a killer. There’s only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive’s only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I’m Bob Bumble. - And I’m Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we’ll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we’re talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, “I’m a kid from the hive. I can’t do this”? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I’m from, we’d never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It’s a common name. Next week… He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots… Next week… Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They’re scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She’s 81. Honey, her backhand’s a joke! I’m not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I’m helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we’re really busy working. But it’s our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting… - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you’re three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that’s had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit’s a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I’m done with the humans, they won’t be able to say, “Honey, I’m home,” without paying a royalty! It’s an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It’s pretty big, isn’t it? I can’t believe how many humans don’t work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What’s the matter? - I don’t know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn’t the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you’re representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson… you’re representing all the bees of the world? I’m kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we’re ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man’s divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn’t some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there’s no trickery here. I’m just an ordinary bee. Honey’s pretty important to me. It’s important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we’re the little guys! I’m hoping that, after this is all over, you’ll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he’d dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don’t imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn’t hear you. - No. - No. Because you don’t free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They’re very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How’d you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that’s enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you’ve never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven’t. No, you haven’t. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I’m feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say… Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That’s not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you’re devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that’s ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn’t. But is this what it’s come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don’t have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn’t a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn’t someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You’re all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury’s on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I’m a florist. Right. Well, here’s to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn’t think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but… the battery. I didn’t want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There’s a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you’re quite a tennis player. I’m not much for the game myself. The ball’s a little grabby. That’s where I usually sit. Right… there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn’t really a special skill. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That’s just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I’m going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I’ve just about had it with your little mind games. - What’s that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that’s a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can’t seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I’m wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I’ve got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You’re bluffing. - Am I? Surf’s up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don’t even like honey! I don’t eat it! We need to talk! He’s just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I’ve met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you’re one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night… My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I’m sorry about all that. I know it’s got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn’t overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he’s considered one of the best lawyers… Yeah. Layton, you’ve gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it’s gonna be all over. Don’t worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don’t like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I’ll ask you what I think we’d all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We’re friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute… Are you her little… …bedbug? I’ve seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn’t your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but… - So those aren’t your real parents! - Oh, Barry… - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You’re an illegitimate bee, aren’t you, Benson? He’s denouncing bees! Don’t y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I’m going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don’t! It’s what he wants! Oh, I’m hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can’t treat them like equals! They’re striped savages! Stinging’s the only thing they know! It’s their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can’t feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I… I blew the whole case, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re alive. You could have died. I’d be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there’s a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can’t explain it. It was all… All adrenaline and then… and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I’m sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We’re just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don’t know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn’t sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don’t check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don’t smoke. Right. Bees don’t smoke. Bees don’t smoke! But some bees are smoking. That’s it! That’s our case! It is? It’s not over? Get dressed. I’ve gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you’ve done step correctly, you’re ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it’s interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don’t make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about… Your Honor, haven’t these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court’s valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I’m afraid I’m going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery’s motion. But you can’t! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It’s a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, “Smoking or non?” Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He’s playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I’m OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won’t have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You’ll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery’s right? - What do you mean? We’ve been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we’ll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We’re all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He’ll have nauseous for a few hours, then he’ll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames… But it’s just a prance-about stage name! …unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan’t breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there’s gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We’ve never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We’re shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn’t believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What’s going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They’re home. They don’t know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn’t? It’s the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now… Now I can’t. I don’t understand why they’re not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They’re doing nothing. It’s amazing. Honey really changes people. You don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They’re all wilting. Doesn’t look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I’m gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn’t think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It’s notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That’s our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course… The human species? So if there’s no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn’t it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I’ll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry… sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They’ve moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It’s the last chance I’ll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I’m sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can’t do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That’s why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I’ve ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I’ve made it worse. Actually, it’s completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it’s greater than my previous ideas combined. I don’t want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they’ve got back here with what we’ve got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They’ve got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It’s real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I’m the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I’m getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let’s see what this baby’ll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic… …without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there’s no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It’s part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we’re lucky, we’ll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It’s got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we’ll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They’ll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I’d like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I’m in a real situation. - What’d you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don’t freak out! My entire species… What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I’m an attorney! - Who’s an attorney? Don’t move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One’s bald, one’s in a boat, they’re both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one’s flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What’s your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I’m a florist from New York. Where’s the pilot? He’s unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who’s that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It’s got giant wings, huge engines. I can’t fly a plane. - Why not? Isn’t John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We’re headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory… That’s Barry! …is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There’s a bee on that plane. I’m quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They’ve done enough damage. But isn’t he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn’t be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small… Haven’t we heard this a million times? “The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense.” - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We’re going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That’s why I want to get bees back to working together. That’s the bee way! We’re not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn’t so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we’re not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let’s get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I’d do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don’t have to yell. I’m not yelling! We’re in a lot of trouble. It’s very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It’s not a tone. I’m panicking! I can’t do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it’s my turn. How is the plane flying? I don’t know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let’s drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can’t see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It’s all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I’m feeling something. - What? - I don’t know. It’s strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We’re going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That’s it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I’m aiming at the flower! That’s a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This’s the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don’t be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we’re not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We’re the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we’re gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We’re bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You’ve earned this. Yeah! I’m a Pollen Jock! And it’s a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That’s our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now’s the time. I got a feeling we’ll be working late tonight! Here’s your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who’s next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don’t forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it’s all me. And I don’t see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I’m sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I’m late. He’s a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can’t get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You’re a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who’s next? All right, scramble, jocks! It’s time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let’s just stop for a second. Hold it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, everyone.Can 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
—  The Bee Movie
Desperate Times (Joker x Reader)

Okay. I’m so sorry guys, I know it’s been about 80000 years since I’ve posted but I’ve just had really bad writers block and I’ve been really busy with work and school and whatnot but here it is. 

This was a request from an anon: “Could you please make an imagine where the reader is given to Mistah J because they were in debt to him. He immediately because super obsessed with her, but the reader is very scared of him <3 <3″ 

This is like decently close to the request just i couldn’t figure out what to write. I’m sorry!!!!! 

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“Please, no Mr. Joker, I’ll give you anything. You can have anything.” You saw the man beg for his life, for another chance. It disgusted you to see him like this. To see the man you once knew as your father beg for drugs. You shook your head in disgust and turned away. You had no idea why but he insisted you be there with him, maybe it’s ‘cause he knew it could very well be one of his last days, if not his last.

“Anything?” The green haired man purred as he circled your father. Your father nodded and looked you in the eyes as if he were apologizing. Confusion clouded your mind as to why he would be apologizing. Maybe it was for being a shitty father, or for making you witness this horrid interaction.

“You can have my daughter,” he stated simply. You eyes snapped open and your back straightened.

“Excuse me? No you can’t have me and what the fuck dad?” You said in disbelief.

“Oh she’s feisty, I like her. You’ve got yourself a deal there Mr. You can keep your life, and your drugs, in exchange for this lovely creature,” he said as his looked you up and down, drinking in every detail of your body.

“No. Dad what the hell is wrong with you? You’re not actually serious are you?” Your voice dropped as the look in his eyes confirmed that he was in fact serious about selling you to the Joker.

“I’m sorry Y/N. There’s nothing else I can do,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had gotten to this point. Your heart broke as you watched the man you once looked up to pick drugs over his own daughter.

“Oh we are going to have so much fun together little miss Y/N,” the Joker snarled in your ear. You flinched as his hands came down on your shoulders.

“Dad… How could you?” He looked down in shame and walked out of the room without a word. Tears were streaming steadily down your face as you stared at the door he had just left through.

“Hm. Dads, am I right?” The Joker broke the silence in the room. “Hi doll face, I’m the Joker, the man that your father is seriously indebted to, and you belong to me now! You can call me Mr. J,” he said, extending a hand towards you as if to shake hands. You glanced down at his hand and ignored the offer. “Oh sweetheart now that’s just rude. That won’t fly doll. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Gonna have to teach you a lesson then. Take a seat,” he said as he pulled you down to sit next to him. His face got serious and you knew you were in trouble. “You belong to me now. That means you do what I want, when I want, and where I want. If you disobey me sweetcheeks, you get punished. Are we clear doll face?” He gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You nodded and he released your face. “What’s your name sweets?”

“Y/N,” you said simply. He stared at you with a bored look as if he was expecting you to say more. You stared back in defiance and he let out a long displeased groan.

“Not a talker are we? I can change that y’know,” he said with a maniacal smile as he pulled his shiny gun out of the holster under his jacket. He lifted the gun and caressed your soft cheeks with the cool, hard metal. You stared him dead in his crazy eyes as he tried to scare you with the powerful weapon in his hands. His face fell as he realized you weren’t scared and you wouldn’t open up to him. “Now tell me doll, am I gonna have to find some other ways of getting you to open that pretty mouth of yours?”

“Fine. What do you want to know. You get three questions, choose wisely,” you said, boredom dripping in your words. Your father had dragged you in to a world of guns and violence, this was not the first time you had been threatened at gun point and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

The Joker raised his non-existent eyebrow and stared you down. He was vastly impressed by your cool composure and lack of fear. Most in your shoes would be trembling, begging for their dear lives but you, you just sat there, bored with his games and his old intimidation tactics.

“And who do you think you are making demands?” He sneered angrily.

“I’m just trying to get this show on the road. Question one, two more to go. Like I said Mr. J, choose wisely.”

“I like your spunk sweetcheeks. Alright, why aren’t you scared? Most people would be terrified out of their minds, why not you?” He inquired.

“You’re not the first basket case my father has pissed off. I’ve been tied down, beat, interrogated, the works. I’m used to it now. My father owes a lot of people a lot of money but what they always fail to realize is that I mean little to nothing to him. I must admit, I’m a little impressed. You’re different than the others. He’s offered me up before y’know? No one’s ever agreed but you, you fell for it,” you explained. He stared at you with a confused look spread across is tattooed porcelain skin. “Stop staring,” you said.

He stared at you open mouthed and went to wrap his hand around your neck only to retract quickly. “You doll, are special, that’s for sure. I can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have. Last question, do you like the left or the right side of the bed?” He threw his head back as he howled with laughter, his infamous laugh ringing through your ears and the small room you two were seated in.

You rolled your eyes and mentally groaned at the stupidity of this man. “Right,” you said as you got up from the small couch. “Can we go now? I would really like to get out of here and take a shower. I’m assuming there’ll be towels and whatnot ready for me? Clothes maybe?” He shook his head at you and wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked back.

“Now listen here Y/N, just because you’re not scared of me doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of the things I’ve done and trust me honey, I can do worse,” he spoke in a deep, threatening voice. You felt the tip of his gun press against the center of your back. You had to admit that you were a little scared. The other men you dealt with were nothing like him. He was deadly, ruthless, and he could crack at any moment. “Now that we have the all cleared up let’s get this show on the road shall we?” His mood switched instantly.

A while later you pulled up to a lavish place. You were unsure of what to expect from him but you figured it shouldn’t surprise you that he lives in such an extravagant set up. He pulled you up from your elbow and you followed him inside. It was beautiful as you had expected upon seeing the outside of the house. Gold everything, marble counters, purple accents strewn around the house.

You glanced around, taking in what would be your new house.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled to yourself mostly. His hands came down on your shoulders in a gentle way, his hands travelling up and down your shoulders. You leaned your head to the side allowing a pleasant stretch to the tense muscles of your neck. “Do you live here all alone?” you inquired.

“No, the maid lives here, a few of my more trusted henchmen, for security measures. Not that I couldn’t protect myself, just don’t wanna do all the work myself,” he answered. You hummed in acknowledgement and continued to scan the room around you. “The room’s upstairs, I already had some of my men pick up your stuff from your father’s place, if you need anything else just tell me and I’ll send someone out to get it,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. You nodded, and dragged yourself up to what looked like a spare room. You plopped down on the bed and let out a long sigh.

So this is what my life is like now, you thought to yourself, looking around the lavish room. Joker stepped up to the doorway and stared you down before sitting down next to you on the big fluffy bed. “Why am I here Joker?”

“Please, call me Mr. J, Joker sounds… Too formal. I want you here because you’re a beautiful girl, your father did me wrong, and I want to make him pay.”

“Hah… Well jokes on you Mr. J. My father doesn’t care about me. Keeping me here is doing nothing but giving him the chance to shamelessly waste away without me yelling at him. You’re doing him a favor,” you explained. He nodded and spread a wide silver grin across his pale tattooed face.

“Y’know doll, maybe I just want your lovely company,” he said sarcastically.

“Y’know, maybe I just can’t stand your company,” you retorted. Before you could react, his hand came across your skin with a harsh sting. The force behind it made you fall back and place a tender touch on your cheek. You looked down, cowering away in fear. You loved to put on the tough girl act. Sure, you had dealt with crazies but nothing that ever came close to the Joker.

A slow tear dripped down your soft cheek. His eyes widened at the realization that he had made you cry. “Can you please leave me alone,” you muttered.

“Shit Y/N are you okay doll?” His voice was a bit quieter than before.

“Please just leave.” You were shaking, terrified to be in the same room as this psychotic, dangerous man.

“What’s wrong sweets?” You looked at him with a look of disbelief.

“You just slapped me across the face. If I’m being totally honest, I’m terrified right now. You scare the living daylights out of me. The moment I saw you I was scared for my life. I don’t want you in here. If I’m going to have to live with you I want to be left alone… I don’t want to be scared for my life. Please just go…” He looked at you, shock on his face.

“Alright. If you need something you can let someone know.” He placed a hand on your hunched back and left.

A small part of you felt bad for banishing him from your life but it wasn’t right for him to treat you in such an awful manner. You let out a sigh and laid down on the comfortable bed. Before you knew it you had slipped in to a deep sleep, forgetting about the disaster your life had become.

Life Begets Life: Arrow 5x23 Review (Lian Yu)

“Lian Yu” a summary:

I love the journey we take on stories.  I particularly love the journey we take with television. There’s really no medium like this. The experience is over in a couple hours with a movie.  We can control how quickly we read a book (even if we have to wait for additional sequels). But television? Television is a week to week story that spans years. Or at least it is if you watch live from start to finish. Television can be a long and arduous journey. Full of ups and downs. Great episodes and horribly bad ones.  We walk the road with the characters in real time. It’s a serious time investment and the hope is the story eventually connects. That the threads the writers weave come together in the end and we can see the full picture.  "Lian Yu" is one of those rare storytelling gifts that repays all the many years of patience.  

We started this journey with Oliver Queen five years ago. We have walked each step with him. We’ve rejoiced with Oliver in his moments of triumph. 

We’ve grieved with him. 

We threw things at him with every maddening step backward.

Step by step, we’ve watched Oliver come back to life. 

It hurt and he fought it for a long time, but slowly Oliver began to learn how to live again. Instead of shutting himself off, he chose to build a life filled with purpose

honor 

teamwork

friendship

family 

and love. 

He’s clawed his way out of the dark and into the light that was always there, deep inside.  

It was all leading somewhere. A destination, a choice, Oliver had to make. No matter how far Oliver has come there is always a piece of him that remains on the island… and on the boat.  Oliver had to return to Lian Yu, one last time, so he could finally let it go. So he could finally come home.

A hero’s story is fraught with triumph and tragedy. There is both in “Lian Yu.” The great tragedy is once Oliver decides who he is, and is ready for all that entails, he’s faced with an impossible choice and loses what he’s spent years building.

Or did he? Adrian Chase is the master chess player. He was always ten moves ahead, even in the final moments, but perhaps there was a move Chase couldn’t foresee. One Oliver set in motion years ago, in a moment where he clung to the light and held to Diggle and Felicity’s faith in him. A moment where Oliver kept a promise.

Let’s dig in…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you have any acd fic recs?

Hoooo boyyyy do I ever. In no particular order:

The Incident In The Room With The Red Curtain, 9k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Holmes investigates the mysterious disappearance of Francis Colleton, a case that requires some of Watson’s specialist knowledge.” Absolutely one of my favorite fics of all time. They are so gentle with each other.

The Adventure of the Doctor’s Heart, 12k, E. Friends to lovers. “Holmes has observed much of Watson’s habits and tastes over time, which is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor’s unexpected display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any means necessary, with mixed results.” This was one of the first Doyle-style fics I read. Holmes’ quiet adoration of John is so good.

Grit, 5k, M. Friends to lovers. “Watson, still bruised and damaged from the Afghan War, decides to hide his inversion so Holmes will remain his friend and flatmate. He thinks the trade-off won’t be difficult, but in a moment of weakness he goes to an underground club with an erstwhile lover. What he discovers there is more than he’d bargained for.” Funny and sad and sweet, with a beautiful ending.

A Man Of Great Character And Better Humor, 2k, gen. Established relationship. Retirement. “When a bit of bad news threatens to crush Watson’s spirit, Holmes knows just the solution.” Absolutely the loveliest little sketch of two old men in love.

Five Times Sherlock Holmes Lied, 5k, gen. Friends to lovers. TAB verse. “Something in Wilde’s persecution has touched a nerve in Sherlock – snapped that tenuous thread of hope holding him upright – and it feels as if he has taken to bleeding internally.” This one’s hard, but gorgeous.

The Ill-Tempered Patient, 1k, gen. Pre-slash. “Holmes has a cold and is being disagreeable, but Watson is used to indulging his moods.” A funny glimpse into their affection for each other.

Mon Couer, 1k, teen. Established relationship. “Holmes tries out a new endearment in the midst of pillow talk.” Holmes gets insecure, and Watson comforts him. The two of them trying to figure out how to be sweet with each other–and flustering themselves–is too lovely.

A Taste of Honey, 3k, teen. Pre-slash. Sickfic. “A failure to observe leads to a successful deduction.” Watson becomes deathly ill while Holmes is away, and Holmes is forced to confront how badly he needs him.

The Incident With The Bicycle, 2k, gen. Established relationship. “We know Holmes can ride a bicycle, but when exactly did he learn?” A bit of a wobble in the early days of their love. I adore Watson’s kindness in this.

Wintry Morning, Victoria Station, 1k, teen. Established relationship. “Watson had come to see me off at the station, that chilly morning in November when a quiet yet momentous shift took place in that strange thing that existed between us.” Watson and Holmes find words for something deeper than anyone around them could imagine.

The Tempest, 3k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Now that Holmes had come back from the dead, things could return to how they were before.” Aftermath of Reichenbach–Watson is so brave.

As Yes To If, 3k, gen. Friends to lovers. Granada. “Leave for your own sake if you must, but on no account shall you leave for mine. I can imagine no sadder outcome of the insight you have gained tonight.” Watson lets slip more of his heart than he realizes, after they nearly lose their lives.

Winter In London, 45k, NR. Friends to lovers. CW: rape. “The last stages of a case go dangerously wrong. Afterwards, Watson tries to live with the memory of a terrible bargain in secrecy.” This is heartbreaking, and deep, and beautiful. Be careful of the content; but if you can manage it, it’s worth it.

I May Be Speaking To Closed Doors, 2k, teen. Established relationship. “Watson makes a Valentine, and then isn’t sure what to do with it.” Poor Watson, a romantic in a relationship with the world’s most unromantic man–so it seems.

Invasion, 2k, gen. Established relationship. Watson can’t bear mice. Holmes thinks it’s rather silly, but humors him, until he understands. This starts off a bit cracky and then ends so sweetly.

Tea From Terai, 700w, gen. Established relationship. “Sherlock Holmes gets a letter from Terai, and remembers that he does know someone in Terai. Or, knew.” Watson learns a little something about his love’s past.

What Is Right, And What Is Easy, 600w, NR. Established relationship. “There’s a reason that Article 28 (which criminalized homosexuality) was called the Blackmailer’s Charter.” This cuts deep for how brief it is.

The Red Notebook, 10k, teen. Post-Reichenbach. I hesitated to include this because it’s a bit too much heartbreak for me–I can’t believe that they would ever willingly give each other up, after love. But this story’s Mycroft is so good, his relationship with Watson so bittersweet, I had to. And it ends joyously, as it must.

Masked Ball, 30k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Six months after Holmes’ return from the dead, the delicate equilibrium in Baker Street is disturbed when a stranger walks out of the London fog with a case–for Watson. Holmes is wary, Watson is fascinated. But who is the man calling himself Álvaro de León? And what does he really want?” I love, love, love this story. I love Alvaro, I love the way Holmes deduces Watson’s bisexuality, I love the mystery and the sweep and the humor of it. It’s wonderful.

Text Omitted, 1k, teen. Established relationship. CW: child abuse. “Watson learns something disconcerting about Holmes’ past.” This makes me cry, and smile: the courage with which they love each other.

The Bee Grove, 14k, teen. Friends to lovers. CW: suicide. “Watson travels to Kent to attend the funeral of an estranged friend from his past who committed suicide. Certain things transpire to make Watson wonder if his inappropriate love for Holmes could possibly be requited.” Beautiful.

Idée Fixe, 1k, teen. Friends to lovers. Granada. “He does not know what to begin with it. It is too grave a thing to be treated as a mere distraction, too tenacious to be dissolved in tobacco smoke. What does one begin with an idée fixe? With a mind bent towards one single thing.” This is almost infuriating in its restraint, but fascinating, too.

The Thieves’ Den, 6k, teen. “The discovery of a large cache of stolen goods ends badly.” Words cannot express how I love this fic–particularly the meddling Mycroft, and the protectiveness of both of them, in spite of each other.

Since I First Saw Your Face, 70k, M. Developing relationship. “During the Great Hiatus, Holmes, studying in Tibet, reflects on his first meeting with Dr John Watson.” The only WIP I’ll rec, or read, because the wealth of historical detail and depth of their intimacy is such that I’d be immensely thankful to have read this even if it never ended. The author can be found on tumblr at @artemisastarte.

When You Know Something’s Wrong, 1k, M. Established relationship. Sickfic. “Holmes gets it wrong.” This is just 1k of lovely Watson gently forcing his medical attention on a truculent Holmes.

Pilgrims Of A Sort, 12k, teen. Friends to lovers to retirement. Absolute classic. “A pair of young travelers turn up at the Sussex cottage of an aging Holmes and Watson, searching for proof that love like theirs can last a lifetime. Watson tells them the story of himself and Holmes–which also happens to be the story of Mary Morstan, and her own unconventional love affair.” Featuring a fantastic old married Holmes and Watson and TWO pairs of happy lesbians.

A Matter of Integrity, 3k, gen. Established relationship. “It is a curious thing when a celebrity whom you’ve never truly met is widely considered your most prominent suitor. Irene Norton sets out in search of some answers, and discovers that sometimes the truth is a delicate matter.” Irene is wonderful, Holmes is careful, and this is good.

Cameo, 8k, teen. Friends to lovers. “Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU.” One wouldn’t think a magical AU in Victorian times could be very delicately done, or mesmerizing. One would be wrong.

Chimera, 800w, gen. Pre-slash. Post-Reichenbach. “My dear Watson, It is with reluctance that I begin this letter to you, for there can be no doubt regarding its fate. It will follow into oblivion all the other letters I have written to you over the past two years, the only difference between them their means of demise.” Poor Holmes.

Something To Retire To, 9k, teen. Friends to partners. Asexual Holmes, miscommunication, jealousy. “Watson contemplates the future while he and Holmes investigate the three Garridebs.” This fic will break your heart into a hundred pieces and put it together again.

Hallowed Be Thy Name, 40k, E. Established relationship. “A word must be said upon the subject of witticisms first, within the context of the manuscripts which have begun littering our rooms.  My friend the Doctor’s sense of humour exists in direct correlation to his state of physical well-being, and the more active a man he becomes–a felicity for which I am grateful as much to his ferocious tenacity as to any higher power–the more wry grow the invariably poetical descriptors applied to my person.” Holmes’ past, Watson’s love, and an epic poem of a story. This fic changed me.


Of course, look up each author’s full body of work if you want more. Mistyzeo is on tumblr at @mistyzeo and posts recs frequently. I write Doyle-style here. @granada-brett-crumbs has another magnificently expansive canon fic rec here. @knightfury1895 and @jeremyholmes post canon-style ficlets on tumblr. Basically, there’s a wealth of wonderful fic out there!

stone femmes experience a great deal of interrogation and criticism around our sexuality and identities, the nature of which is always explicitly homophobic and heterosexist. 

our desire and appreciation of butch identity is characterised as suppressed heterosexual inclinations and it’s often supposed our lesbianism is likely the product of child sexual abuse. 

even from within lesbian community, partnerships of stone butches and stone femmes are viewed with suspicion, distrust and an interrogative curiosity that intends to determine whether or not the way we have sex with each other qualifies us for “real” lesbianism.

stone femmes experience a lot of social pressure to be more flexible about our identities (ie: to date men, or perform sexual acts we are not comfortable with), or urged to confront “truths” about ourselves that we’re apparently denying. this has lead many of us to experience extreme discomfort with our sexuality, questioning ourselves what we know to be true in our hearts. the repeated insistence that our desire for stone butches is a desire for masculinity is a type of mass gaslighting in some sense, leading stone femmes to wonder if we really are lesbian and making the true and authentic discovery of our selves and our identities more challenging. it’s a source of great inner turmoil and conflict. our often conventionally feminine presentation, our desire for gender non-conforming women, and the roles we tend to take in sexual exchange, are seen by outsiders - both straight and LGBT - as undeniable evidence of attraction to men. the result is that stone femmes make compromises that hurt us and conflict directly with our true needs and desires. in my case, I had a couple of relationships with men - one cis and one trans - both of which had problems for several reasons but one big one being my own discomfort and lack of desire, the fact that ultimately I saw myself with a woman. 

navigating a world in which compulsory heterosexuality rules is fraught for any lesbian. for stone femmes, our exclusive desire for butches appears to outsiders as additional ammo to assault our sense of identity with. “why don’t you just date a man?” is a common remark every stone femme has heard when showing others photos of our partners, or women we are interested in. this hurts stone femmes in a direct sense, as it questions our lesbianism (which is already under fire in a homophobic world anyway), and it additionally provokes guilt and shame as we feel we have exposed butches to insensitive and callous appraisal that is incapable of recognising the beauty we see. the insidiousness of gendered expectations is such that the incessant repetition of these attitudes chips away steadily at our own perception of our desires, to the detriment of our mental health.

furthermore, this attitude is revoltingly homophobic and misogynistic towards butches as well, as it positions butches as substitutes for men, or women attempting to imitate men, rather than the gender non-conforming women they actually are, and wholly realised (and perfect!) as. such is the nature of sexism, it is often confounding to people of all sexualities that a conventionally feminine woman could look at a woman who does not attempt to be “beautiful” in a way deemed acceptable for women, and find her the most desirable person in the room. I have even had people say to me “but don’t you want to experience all the things that make women so wonderful?”, like I haven’t already experienced exactly that with my butch partners (and am so fulfilled by it I don’t want anything else).

in my case, this aspect of myself has also been used by people who were abusing me to claim that I was straight and falsely presenting myself as queer. their public attacks were directly centered on the fact that I’m “only interested in women who look like men”. it’s violently homophobic, against butches and femmes both, and was extremely distressing to experience.

as for the ways that stone butches and stone femmes are intimate together, there are again a great deal of assumptions and conclusions drawn by outsiders who cannot relate to the experience or significance of being together in a way that feels extremely natural and fulfilling. at its most stripped-back core, stone simply means “is not penetrated/does not penetrate”. there are often a couple of other accompanying boundaries, but in the context of very trusting and intimate relationships, those boundaries may sometimes be expanded.  it is, of course, personal and specific to each couple. more importantly than anything else is that other people - including other LGBT people - not project their own perceptions onto the stone lesbian experience. the idea that in order for sex to be truly complete and fulfilling for both partners each must experience certain acts is just placing limitations on the definition of sex. which is also extremely heterosexist. LGBT people have long struggled to have our ways of having sex recognised as very real despite the absence of penis-in-vagina. to impose a rigid definition of lesbian sex on lesbians is to ignore and dismiss the extremely complicated and diverse ways in which sexual desire is formed and experienced, as well as the very complicated and diverse ways women exist in general. 

one of the most important ways that stone femme as a sexual identity exists is in respect to stone butch. stone butches experience a great deal of resistance to their physical boundaries, in ways that is often intensely violating and hurtful and leads them to question whether they are broken, or repressed, or even if they themselves are “real” lesbians. the stone femme’s ability and willingness to accept and respect the stone butch’s needs validates the stone butch identity as authentic and natural and provides much needed comfort and appreciation. in this context, a stone butch may feel comfortable to explore their boundaries further in ways they could not do with a partner who repeatedly pushed for access they did not feel safe to give.  or they may not. it doesn’t actually matter, so long as two people within the context of their private relationship explore physical intimacy in the way that is satisfying, fulfilling and pleasurable for them both. the perception that stone butches and stone femmes are not doing this rely entirely both on heterosexist and cissexist ideas about what bodies configured in certain ways should enjoy, rather than what individuals with unique histories coming together in mutual desire actually do enjoy. enjoyment is central to satisfaction. and no one can know what is going on in another person’s bedroom unless they are there. so to draw conclusions about what sex means for other people is to say that individuals cannot be expressing themselves through genuine connection with their needs and desires.  when stone butches and stone femmes already experience so much hostility towards our identities, this assumption we are not having sex “properly” only amplifies insecurity and isolation and feeds back into damaging ideas that sex is only real when it occurs in certain ways.

I reblogged a quote the other day by lesbian butch photographer Jill Posener in which she says that being butch is about loving to be with other women. I feel the same way about being femme. If I wanted to be with a man, I would be. It wouldn’t be hard and everyone would welcome it unquestioningly. In fact, it would make a lot more people a lot more comfortable with my existence. I desire butch because I love other women and love being with other women. and I’m tired of being made to question that. we all are. if you wonder why it is you don’t see stone femmes talk more openly about our existence and experiences, it’s that: we’re all just tired. we’re all so used to be questioned and interrogated that mostly we stay quiet now and keep to ourselves. it’s not worth the unending assault on our very way of being to keep having to challenge the status quo. we trust only each other. and this is another reason why stone communities are so private and fiercely defended.

me and other stone femmes have dealt with other people’s homophobia and misogyny making us question ourselves to the detriment of our own peace of mind and sense of security in our own identity. an identity we can struggle to even find in a homophobic world. it’s violent, and it’s twisted, and it’s one more way that lesbian desire is policed and dismissed as somehow incomplete or insincere.

The Council [Chapter 1: The Body]

Originally posted by timetoemptythetrash

Chapter 1: The Body

A/N: Mature series. Mentions of crime, death, violence & sex.

Mini Masterlist


Standard work hours are long over but your profession is far from ordinary. It is in the dead of night where the true monsters come out to play, feeding and existing only in the shadows. It is there, hidden that they find their strength.

You are no stranger to such a lifestyle. Just as they do, you live under a dark sheath, thinly cloaked by nothing more than a name that is not your own to protect you.

Keep reading

Stop constructing “lanes.” We can and should criticize sexism worldwide.

As usual, this post is primarily addressed to Western liberal feminists. I have noticed that one of your favorite lines that you smugly try and pass for discourse is “stay in your lane.” Men somewhere in the world are oppressing women somewhere in the world and when another person starts to criticize, you try to silence her with this “lane” nonsense.

Here’s the thing: Sexism and patriarchy don’t have a lane. They don’t have a culture. They are part of every culture, every place, and every system worldwide.

My oppression as a woman in Iraq has the same material problem as oppression of women in the United States, France, Argentina, China, Uganda, any society on this earth: male violence. The root of our problems is the same root and we will not solve any of these problems without pulling up that root.

You act like you’re some kind of progressive by silencing other Western women who talk about other cultures’ issues, but really you’re denying that all of our issues are rooted in the same oppression, and that is Western exceptionalism. You’re saying that your issues are worth public criticism but ours must be framed in ways that appeal to your moral senses or they should be silenced.

Global patriarchy is every woman’s “lane” because it’s literally global. I am allowed to criticize male violence anywhere in the world because I see a different manifestation of the same problems in my own life.

Sexism doesn’t have a culture. (Nor does racism, classism, homophobia, etc.) It exists in every culture in the world. For this reason, we cannot equate criticisms of sexism to criticisms of cultures because criticizing sexism criticizes every culture. (Or one global culture that we all share.) If you honestly believe that sexism is definitely wrong (which I do) then why are you silencing criticism of sexism?

Ask yourselves: Why are you so afraid of offending somebody’s “culture” by criticizing patriarchy? There can really only be one reason. Your feminism just appeals to men.

If our cultures can’t stand on their own without sexism, then what even are they? I love my culture. I love speaking Arabic and Assyrian. I love our folk music. I love our political novels and films. And I could still love all of this without sexism in our culture. Culture doesn’t exist in a snow globe. It is meant to change.

So are you actually going to let people defend sexism with “it’s our culture”? It’s everyone’s culture! And if we recognize that it’s wrong, we should criticize it! Just like we should criticize racism, classism, and homophobia wherever we find them. If you prioritize “protecting culture” over criticizing sexism, then you prioritize the feelings of men over the actual lives of women. And you aren’t a feminist.

I know I talk about listening to Middle Eastern women too, and I stand by that. You can and should listen to our stories, our thoughts, and our criticisms. And you can and should amplify our voices and offer your own criticisms of sexism, because sexism affects you too.

Issues with more attention usually get more support. People can’t support women in developing countries if they don’t know our struggles, and we cannot spread awareness if other women who discuss these issues are silenced. Western voices and media outlets have the most influence worldwide, so why are you stopping people from using them?

There is a difference between talking over someone and empathizing with her experience and offering meaningful criticisms. Talking over someone is a silencing tactic because you’re telling a woman not to talk about her lived experiences because you must know better. Listening to us, having a dialogue, and criticizing sexism together is productive and it’s the exact opposite of silencing. Stop trying to conflate the two.

You have an extremely low opinion of women from developing countries if you believe that criticizing how sexism manifests in our cultures is patronizing us. Do you think we don’t know what sexism is? Do you think we don’t also have indigenous feminist movements? Do you think we haven’t been trying to bring attention to these issues? 

It’s true that sometimes Westerners use sexism and homophobia in places like the Middle East as justifications for their own bigotry against Middle Eastern people. Again, if you honestly believe that racism, xenophobia, or imperialism are wrong, then you don’t need to dance around cultural sensitivities to make your point. The thing about inalienable human rights is that you don’t have to earn them.

Half of people in developing countries are women and you can advocate for our liberation in all countries of the world at the same time. Wow! There’s a massive difference between acknowledging how sexism manifests in some cultures and saying we’re savages who should be confined to dangerous war zones.

Stop dividing women. We are in this together. Sexism is wrong in every context and every culture and we are allowed to criticize it wherever and whenever we find it.

*ACOWAR SPOILERS*

Anyway Moriel shippers whining about Mor being gay can suck my dick lol.

Is it probably tokenism? Yes. Is it probably going to be lazy, last minute representation? Yes. Do any of you homophobes using these things for your complaints actually fucking give a shit about whether or not it’s tokenism? No! You’re just homophobic, so stop pretending like you actually care about the quality of gay representation!

I can’t believe some of you actually have the audacity to to say shit like “this is coming out of nowhere” and “Mor just doesn’t SEEM like she’s gay” and “but poor Azriel!” and “but I wanted Moriel to happen!” and “I’m not saying I don’t want representation, I just don’t think it should be Mor.”

First of all, if you’re straight (and most of the people complaining here are) how DARE you say anything about Mor “seeming gay” or not. How DARE you. What the actual fuck could you possibly know about it. Nothing. You could know nothing.

Second of all, of COURSE you don’t think it should be Mor. You CARE about Mor. Mor is beautiful, bubbly, funny, smart, outgoing. Her storyline is important to the main plot. She’s survived tragedy and emerged triumphant. You relate to her. And most of all, you want her to get together with a male character. And for her to be GAY? Oh no! Now this is ruined for you. Now she’s not perfect anymore. God forbid gay people have a gay character with positive traits they can look up to and relate to in a series. God forbid ONE character out of a TON of straights had to be made gay and now you can’t relate anymore.

I’ve seen multiple people say “I like the representation, but I thought Mor should be with Azriel and Amren should be gay. Why couldn’t it be Amren?” This. Is VERY telling. Amren is described as not overly beautiful, she has a more abrasive personality, and most importantly, she doesn’t seem interested in any kind of romantic relationship. At all. Her being gay would not get in the way of ANY of your straight romances/ships/plots. It probably would’t even be brought up a lot, because it’s doubtful she’d even be with someone. So people saying that Amren would have been a better candidate feels very much like “Ugh, the gays can HAVE that weird freak Amren, but it’s not fair they get that pretty girl! How can MOR be gay?? What about the boy I want as her boyfriend?”

So many people are shielding themselves from being called homophobic by saying “I want a character to be LGBT! I want there to be representation for LGBT! (Just not THIS character)” Well that’s bullshit, first of all because the way you say “LGBT” instead of “LGBT characters” or “gay characters” kinda reveals the way you view representation as some nebulous kind of check-the-box category to get over with instead something actually important, and second of all because the “LGBT representation” that you’re “all for” is a very specific kind of representation. It’s the kind that isn’t really representation at all.

You’re “all for LGBT rep,” but you never actually want characters you LIKE to be gay. You never want the characters you ship in straight relationships to turn out gay. You want the ugly characters, the evil characters (who are going to die anyway), the characters who never end up in relationships, (and the “smol bean xD” men who you fetishize and ship with other men, but that’s another issue) to turn out gay. That way you can pat yourself on the back for how good and diverse your series is while continuing to enjoy the main straight characters in their straight relationships. That way you’re never forced to invest in the humanity of gay people and their stories, because their “stories” are just a casual mention of their sexuality, or a side plot so tiny it might as well not exist (like in tog).

And as for “poor Azriel!” do I really have to tell you why that’s fucking dumb? I guess it’s not uncommon in this fandom to always prioritize men over women (re: “poor Rhysand when Feyre had to sleep with her abuser that must have been so hard for HIM!!”), but still. Listen to yourself.

On top of all of this, I find it pretty funny (I don’t. I don’t find it funny. At all. None of this is funny it makes me want to vomit) that straight people are throwing a tantrum and acting like it’s the worst thing ever that a ship they were passionate about couldn’t work out because of the characters’ sexualities. HAHAHAHAHAHA! The irony of it, honestly, and the fact that none of you realize it… wow. Do y’all. Have any idea. How many times that happens to gay readers? On a REGULAR basis?? The two characters are similar. Have good chemistry. Interact in a way that hints at a relationship. Would be perfect together. You care about them, you grow invested. And just when you think they might be endgame… oops! They’re straight, and they can’t be together. I don’t have an ounce of pity for people saying that they’re SO upset by this because they were in love with the ship and now it can’t happen because of sexuality. This is our LIFE. It happened to you one fucking time, and the relationship wasn’t even that developed; somehow I think you’ll be okay.

To sum it up, when I hear people complaining about Mor being gay because they thought she should be with Azriel, literally all I hear is “wait but gay people are fine only as long as they don’t get in the way of straight ships and characters :( why can’t they stay on the fringes of the plot where they belong and leave us straights alone :( we used to have 100% of the characters and plot and now we only have 99% :( life is so hard :(“

It’s honestly just really disheartening to see straight people responding so nastily to this, especially when this is just a tiny drop of real representation. Mor’s sexuality might not end up being well done in the book, but there are a lot of gay and bi girls who read these books and this could genuinely make a difference to them. And THAT will ALWAYS be more important than the success of a straight ship, especially in a series in which there is absolutely NO shortage of straight ships and characters. Go pick two of the other 10,000 straight characters to ship and leave us alone.

POTC 5: Barbossa, Salazar, and an Alternate Ending

WARNING: SPOILERS

I have been a big fan of the POTC franchise since the beginning, and while I honestly think that Disney is trying too hard to milk every last penny from it and that POTC 5 should be the last of the series (or perhaps that it should have ended before now), I will say that, despite its flaws, the most recent installment wrapped up a lot of loose ends nicely and gave us some great additions to POTC lore and character development. While Jack, unfortunately, suffered a bit in this film–his usual wit and charm replaced almost entirely with attempts at comic relief–Barbossa and Salazar generally make up for it.

Throughout the series, Barbossa has been, in my opinion, one of the most morally ambiguous and well-developed characters, and this installment only furthered my convictions. Originally viewed as a villain opposite Jack, Will, and Elizabeth in the first film, by film number three, he has teamed up with the main couple to help rescue Jack and fight against the “bigger” Big Bads Davy Jones and the British Navy. Here, he is portrayed as being a bit more noble (well, by pirate standards, anyway) and shows great respect for Elizabeth as the Pirate King when she steps up and leads them into battle. By film number four, he has apparently become a privateer (though primarily out of a desire to hunt down Blackbeard in revenge for taking The Pearl, and with it, his leg) but this endeavor doesn’t last long, and as soon as Blackbeard is off the radar, he goes back to his pirating ways. And even AS a privateer, we see a moment of what cruelty he is capable of when he leaves his crew to die at the hands of the mermaids. Nevertheless, he pretty much fully redeems himself in the most recent film through his relationship with his daughter. While, admittedly, it was a bit cheesy and perhaps somewhat out of character at times, I loved the implication that there was once a woman Barbossa genuinely loved and that, upon her death, thinking himself incapable of raising the child, he was actually strong enough to do the right thing and find a place to take her in. It was strange yet incredibly touching getting to see this softer side of Barbossa. The moment Carina slapped him for (supposedly) insulting her father, you could see it in his eyes that he was torn between feeling hurt and ashamed of what he was and simultaneously being proud of her for having the guts to stand up to a pirate of his stature in defense of her father. I would honestly have loved to get an entire film’s worth of father/daughter moments between these two, and after seeing him come so far as to be willing to sacrifice himself for her safety, I really hated to see him go. More on that later…

As for Salazar, I am not yet quite sure what to think about him or how to categorize his character. On the one hand, we have to remember that we are (technically) rooting for the “bad guys” by society’s standards, and while we all love Jack & co., pirates were a real and troubling threat to merchant vessels, the navy, etc. Not everyone they attacked deserved it, and not all pirates are as morally decent as Jack, Will, Elizabeth, etc. usually are. In his mind, Salazar is doing his duty to society and protecting the innocent. Yes, we get a glimpse of him refusing to show mercy to a group of pirates who have surrendered, but to be fair, had their roles been reversed, many pirates might not have shown mercy either. Additionally, Salazar has a personal motivation to dislike pirates, as they were responsible for the deaths of both his father and grandfather–men whom he looked up to, respected, and probably loved. We don’t know exactly how old he was when this happened, but if he was still a child at the time, it would have been EXTREMELY difficult for his mother, as a single woman during a time when most respectable women were not employed much outside the home, to support him and herself. Furthermore, Jack–as a boy–both humiliated him and doomed him to what must have felt like an eternity of a ghostly/undead existence trapped in the Devil’s Triangle. I was reminded, here, of a parallel between the Salazar/Jack relationship and that of Captain Hook and Peter Pan… Jack, much like Peter, is the young, cocky boy who somehow manages to get the best of the more experienced, older sailor. In the original novel, there is actually a line about how Hook (who is stuck in a place which for a child is paradise but for an adult is a living nightmare) feels like a lion in trapped in a cage into which a sparrow has flown. Similarly, Salazar himself tells us that he is the one who gave Jack the surname “Sparrow” because he was “up in the crow’s nest…like a…like a little bird.” Whether or not the parallels were intentional, I don’t know, but as a long-time fan of Hook, it definitely made Salazar a more interesting and sympathetic character to me. On the other hand, Salazar is incredibly legalistic (like Inspector Javert on steroids), obsessive, merciless, and unnecessarily cruel. I realize the Spanish and English navies weren’t exactly friendly toward each other, but you have to admit, Salazar and his crew slaughtering the members of the British navy who enter the Devil’s Triangle was rather uncalled for. It’s like he did it just because he could. He is also so focused on ending Jack’s life that he leaves his newly un-cursed crew to drown at the bottom of the sea. Then again…Barbossa did almost the exact same thing with his privateer crew in the previous film when he left them for the mermaids, and we still root for him… Why is it that when Will Turner seeks revenge on Davy Jones for cursing his father or when Barbossa seeks revenge on Blackbeard for stealing the Pearl and the loss of his leg, we root for them, yet when Salazar has an equally legitimate reason to hate Jack, he is a villain? (I know, I know… Because it’s Jack’s story and you can’t really dislike the protagonist. But still…) Salazar is an interesting guy, and it just seemed WAY too easy to have him turn mortal for all of five minutes and then immediately kill him off. Plus, I felt bad because DID YOU SEE THE LOOK ON HIS FACE WHEN HE TURNED HUMAN AGAIN?!?! He was practically on the verge of weeping for joy! I really wish they would have allowed for him to potentially return in human form for future films. I also have to wonder, having earlier mentioned his likeness to Javert, if put in a similar situation in which the pirates shattered his illusion of the world as morally black and white, he might have had a change of heart (or ya know…a mental breakdown…). Either way, I wish we got more Salazar.

…Which brings me back to the point I was making before… As moving and poignant as Barbossa’s death was, I don’t believe that was actually necessary. Realistically, with Salazar mortal and his entire crew swept away by the sea, it would have been easy for Jack’s crew to take him out once the anchor was raised and everyone was back onboard the Pearl. He would have been severely outnumbered, and they could have easily killed him or taken him captive. True, you could argue that Barbossa was worried Salazar would get to Carina first and harm her before they were back on the ship, but with him in mortal form, all Carina would really have to do to disable him is give him a swift kick in the face. Besides, if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed in the moment, I don’t think Carina would have willingly let go of her father’s hand. She literally JUST found out that the man who saved her life, the infamous pirate captain of Blackbeard’s former ship The Queen Anne’s Revenge, is the man she has spent her entire life searching for. You can’t convince me that she wouldn’t have clung to him for dear life if she had been in her right mind. I don’t blame her, mind you–it’s a lot to take in in such a short amount of time, and I don’t think she had time to fully process it all, but if she had thought about it, I’m certain she would have refused to let him go.

So imagine it, for a moment….

xxxxx

Barbossa guided her hand to the chain, telling her to hold on as he began to loosen his grip, a sad smile on his face. He only just met his daughter but he was already so proud of her. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to spend more time with her, but perhaps it was better this way.  She had slapped him when he had insulted her father before she knew who he was. If she had known then, he thought, she might have slapped him a second time. Perhaps now, at least, she might see him as something more heroic than the disappointment that he was.

It didn’t take long for Carina to realize what he was doing, her face turning white with horror as his fingers began to slip.

“NO!” she screamed, latching onto his wrist. “I’ve spent all my life searching for you, and now I’ve finally found you! I’m not letting you go now!”

He had not planned for this. He had hoped to go out in figurative blaze of glory, hoped that in his death he might redeem himself in her eyes and make up for the years he had left her alone in the world. But she wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction. She wouldn’t let him go that easily. There was a fierce determination in her eyes, eyes that remind him of another woman he had once loved. And so for her sake, he held on–tighter than he has ever held onto anything in his life.

As the anchor rose from the water, he saw the crew of the Pearl coming to their aid.

“Hector!” Jack shouted down at him from the deck where the others have helped him aboard. There was genuine worry in his voice.

Strange, he mused, how far they have come. For as long as they had known each other, they had always alternated between being at each other’s throats and being brothers in arms. He had once gone to the ends of the earth–to hell and back, as it were–for the Pearl…but also partially for Jack, he admitted. And seeing his current expression, he had no doubts that Jack would do the same for him because, at the end of the day, pirates though they were, they would always have each other’s back.

He climbed aboard, soaked to the skin and looking far more like a wet rat than the fearsome captain that he was, Jack and Gibbs each grabbing an arm to steady him while Henry helped Carina. He recalled, for a moment, the highly unorthodox wedding ceremony he’d performed on the deck of this very ship all those years ago and smiled almost fondly at the boy, wondering if perhaps he’d be performing another in a couple of years. He had missed so much of his daughter’s life… He hoped it wasn’t too late to change that.

Apparently, it wasn’t because the moment her feet hit the deck, she was embracing first Henry, then him.

“Father,” she whispered.

And for the first time in many, many years, he felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyes.

But the moment was cut short as the last few feet of the chain holding the anchor rose from the depths of the sea, carrying with it a final passenger who hoisted himself over the railing and onto the deck–Captain Armando Salazar, in the flesh, at last. Long strands of dark hair, no longer floating freely as they had in his ghostly form, were plastered against his face, but his uniform–though stuck to his skin with the weight of the water it had absorbed–was as pristine-looking as ever. His face had a bit of color now–more olive than the ghastly chalky complexion they’d seen before, but it hardly diminished his intimidating presence, his eyes still hard and cold.

But intimidating or not, he was no longer immortal. And without a weapon in his hand or at his side–the sword he usually carried having been lost to the sea in the midst of all the chaos–he was, for all intents and purposes, defenseless. He was outnumbered, out gunned, and on a ship which was not his own. He was at their mercy.

Almost immediately, there were a half a dozen swords pointed at his throat and nearly twice as many pistols aimed at his chest, no longer permeable as mist but made of flesh and bone beneath which lay the beating heart of a man. His weakness became apparent at nearly the same moment that he felt the heat of the sun upon his cheek and the gentle sea breeze ruffle his hair for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. In the span of seconds, his face displayed a vast array of emotions almost too quickly for his mind to keep up–the proud, determined look of a hunter having cornered his prey replaced instantaneously with that of immeasurable joy, realization, fear, rage, and defeated resignation.

Surprisingly, Jack was the first to lower his weapon, but it wasn’t so much a gesture of mercy as it was an insult. There was no need  for a weapon now. The Spaniard had climbed aboard the Pearl without any men of his own and was now its captain’s prisoner. His only choice was between Jack’s crew and the sharks…and the latter would be much less forgiving. Having experienced death himself before, Jack knew that no sane man who had escaped such a fate would ever take his own life, no matter how desperate. And even if he had considered it, Salazar’s pride would not allow it.

“It would seem,” Jack said, striding across the deck, “that El Matador del Mar has once again met his match. The butcher’s bill has been paid in full. You and your crew have had your humanity restored–that counts for something, I should think. I took your life once. I’ve no desire to take it again, so what say we simply call it even and agree to disagree until I can drop you off on some nice, deserted island, savvy?”

“My crew,” Salazar spat, “is at the bottom of the sea.”

“Well, that’s not my problem, now, is it? I’m not their captain who left them there to drown.”

The Spaniard took a step toward him, forgetting for a moment that he no longer held the sword which often doubled as his cane. He stumbled, then, landing in a heap at Jack’s feet, as his knees buckled at the searing pain that shot up his leg. He was spewing curses, swearing like the sailor that he was in a garbled mix of Spanish and English so viciously that an onlooker who did not speak a word of either language wouldn’t have needed a translation.

“You…!!!” he seethed. “You took EVERYTHING from me!”

He was clawing at the deck, trying desperately to pull himself up, but his leg was too weak. His mortality had returned in full force, bringing with it the fresh pain of an old wound that he had not been able to feel for years. He dragged himself over to the mast that he might have something to brace himself against, crawling on his hands and knees.

“My pride, my ship, my crew, my family, my life, my very soul…” He propped himself up against the mast, too tired and too ashamed to struggle any further. “What more do you want from me?!”

Jack’s gaze softened. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “I never wanted anything from you but my freedom. I wanted you out of my way, I wanted you lost at sea…but I swear on my life I never intended for you to end up…” He gestured to his face, trailing his fingers in lines of imaginary squid ink dribbling down his chin, smacking his lips as though even the thought left a horrid taste in his mouth and shuddered. “Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“You have no idea what sort of hell I have been through.”

“Oh, I think I can imagine…”

It was not Jack but Barbossa who had spoken.

Perhaps it was only because Carina was watching and being a father made him want to be a better man, but for whatever reason, Barbossa felt compelled to take pity on the man. Jack had been to The Locker, it was true. And that in and of itself was enough to drive a man to madness… But he had not spent years cursed in an undead state like he and the original crew of the Pearl had. That was something entirely different and drew forth memories of a time which Barbossa did not recall with any fondness. He stepped forward, his own bejeweled peg leg dragging slightly as he walked–another area in which he could all too easily empathize with the man propping himself up against the mast.

“Ye’re always starvin’ but food turns tah ash in your mouth. Always dyin’ of thirst, yet nothin’ ever quenches it. Ye cannot feel–not the sun or the rain on yer face nor the softness of a woman’s touch nor the fiery sting of cold steel slicin’ yer skin. Yer heart no longer beats, yet somehow ye’re still alive. Everything that once had meanin’ is empty and hollow. Ye’re a dead man walkin’.”

Salazar bore a pained expression. For a moment, he could not find his voice. Then…

“How…?” he croaked.

“Yer not the only man what has been cursed in such a manner and lived to tell the tale. Or rather…come back from the dead to tell it.”

At this, Carina gave a start. Realizing that the undead were real was one thing. Realizing that her long-lost father (who also happened to be a pirate captain) had once been among them was quite another. But that, she supposed, was a story for another day. She had so many questions already. Life with her father, it seemed, would be much more complicated than she had anticipated. Yet she could not deny a slight thrill at the thought of more adventures at his side.

“‘Twas our greed and our pride that did us in,” Barbossa continued. “Aztec gold, cursed by the pagan gods… We were warned of the consequences, but we heeded them not. 'Twas yer own pride that did ye in as well, I suspect. Nothin’ would do but tah take yer revenge on every last pirate sailin’ in the Spanish Main for the deaths of yer father and his father before him. I can’t rightly say that I blame ye for that… Ye say that we’re not worthy of bein’ called men at all, that we are loathsome creatures lower than the bilge rats and the barnacles on the hull of a ship. That may be so. I am hardly an honest man.”

He glanced briefly at Carina, looking somewhat ashamed, then returned his attention to Salazar.

“Yet ye do it in the name of honor and justice. But if it’s vengeance yer seekin’, then ye ought to at least have the decency tah call it what it is like the rest of us… There’s as much blood on yer hands as there is on ours. Perhaps more. If ye be satisfied knowin’ that, then by all means, continue yer reign as El Matador del Mar–that is, assumin’ ye make it off this ship alive. But if ye want tah keep tellin’ yerself yer better than us humble pirates, now’s the time tah prove it. Not all men make it to hell and back alive, and one thing I can tell ye, when yer given a second chance at life, ye ought not tah waste it.”

He looked back at Carina.

“Take it from someone who’s wasted too many second chances already.”

The Spaniard laughed bitterly. “You think that by sparing me you may spare yourselves of my wrath when I am free? My life was devoted to hunting down men like you–murderous thieves who take what they can and give nothing back. Without that, what am I?” He glared at Jack. “Give me a weapon, and I will fight you to the death. Or kill me now, like a man. But stop this foolish pretense! We both know what you are, Jack Sparrow!”

“Firstly,” Jack replied, “there should be a 'captain’ in there somewhere. Secondly, despite what you may think, I am neither stupid enough to give you a weapon nor cruel enough to kill an unarmed man. So it seems we are at an impasse.”

He began pacing the deck.

“You know, I once knew a man who thought like you.”

He paused to glance at Henry.

“His father was a pirate…AND a good man. Took him awhile to accept that.”

His gaze returned to Salazar.

“Truth is, the world’s not all black and white, mate, and thank goodness for that because it would be a dreadfully dull place if it was. For example…” He spread his arms wide, taking a mock bow. “I am a pirate. I admit to that. But I am not a cold-blooded killer. You, on the other hand…” He pointed at Salazar with the tip of his sword. “Well, let’s just say they don’t call you 'The Butcher’ for nothing. Now tell me, mate, which one of us is the better man?”

For a moment, Salazar was silent. Then, he looked to Henry.

“You, boy…your father is the captain of the Dutchman?”

“Yes, sir.”

Salazar nodded soberly. “A good man.”

“And a former pirate, I might add,” Jack interjected.

But a deadly glare from the Spanish captain quickly silenced him.

“Right,” he apologized. “Sorry. Continue.”

“He tried to come for us, once. To ferry us to the next world…to set us free from this curse, that we might be at peace.” He laughed darkly. “But there are some places too cursed for even the Dutchman to go.”

Henry nodded soberly. “I’m sorry. He would have done more if he could have, I’m sure.”

Salazar returned the gesture. Though he could not fully explain why, he had a great deal of respect for the boy. He had seen the terror in the boy’s eyes when his crew attacked the British naval ship, yet despite his fear, he did not run but looked death in the face. He was confident, yet not cocky like Jack; quiet, yet he did not hesitate to speak his mind when necessary. And there was another quality the boy had which he did not expect of one with such close ties to pirates–honor. Possessing the boy had given him a glance into the heart and soul of the young man before him, their consciousness merging until one man’s thoughts and emotions were barely distinguishable from the other. He had seen Jack, then, through the boy’s eyes…and he had seen the monster he had become–internally as well as externally, his humanity all but gone. It had been deeply disturbing. Recalling the boy’s thoughts now, he remembered something which he hadn’t taken notice of before, a troubled frown forming on his lips. His eyes shifted tentatively to Jack, and for a moment, he merely held his gaze, causing the pirate to squirm uncomfortably.

“While I was controlling the boy’s mind,” he began, “I saw something…not a memory–at least, not a memory of his… More like a dream…like visions of a legend…a story he had been told as a child…. His father was still a mortal then…. He was dying. You had the heart of Davy Jones in your hand, ready to become the next captain of that otherworldly ship that you yourself might gain immortality…. But you chose to save him instead…. Is this true?”

“Well, now, 'saved’ is a rather strong word, given that becoming the captain of said ship comes with its own curses which is how we ended up in this bloody mess to begin with, searching for the trident….”

Salazar scowled impatiently.

“But technically speaking, yes.”

“I see…” The Spaniard looked to Henry. “You trust this man? This…this pirate?”

Henry slowly lifted his eyes to Jack, then smiled. “With my life, sir.”

Salazar grunted.

“Captain…”

“Yes?” Barbossa, Jack, and Salazar answered simultaneously.

Realizing the need for clarification, Henry started again. “Er…that is…Captain Salazar… If I may ask… While I was subject to your power, I endured a nightmare like nothing I had ever experienced before. I felt…so cold, so isolated… It was as if I were drowning in a darkness and despair so deep that it smothered everything else–all thoughts and emotions consumed by what must have been the last thing that you felt in life…a burning, blinding rage. It was suffocating, as though I was so far removed from humanity that I had forgotten everything and everyone else in the world… My entire identity was gone, my own memories were unreachable–a distant, foggy dream. And yet…one name remained on the tip of my tongue, a name I do not know….”

“Maria,” Salazar whispered reverently.

“The Silent Mary…. It isn’t just the name of a ship, is it?” Henry asked. “Who was she?”

There was a wistful gleam in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable, the most human, he had looked since regaining his mortality.

“The most beautiful woman in all of Spain…my wife.” He smiled sadly. “She was with child when I left. She didn’t want me to go. Of course, I told her not to worry, and I promised her that that mission would be my last…. But then…I never came home.” He looked at Jack. “That is why I was so angry.” He sighed. “I do not know what became of them. She has probably long forgotten about me. If she is even still alive…I doubt she or the child would want to see me now. They would not believe my story…and if they did, they would be repulsed by what I became. I have nothing now. Nothing. No crew at sea, no one waiting at home….” He eyed Jack’s sword almost pleadingly. “What is left but to fight one last fight and at least die with a little honor? Perhaps this time, I will have peace.”

“You do your family a great disservice, sir.” This time, it was Carina who spoke. “If she loved you as much as you love her, then I am certain she never gave up hope. Nor did her child.”

“Oh? How do you know that?”

She was addressing Salazar, but her eyes were on Barbossa, bright with unshed tears.

“The same way that I knew someday, somehow, I would find my father…. And if you truly care about them, who you are…or who you were…none of that will matter when they finally see you.”

“Ah, but you forget… I have neither ship nor crew–”

“We’ll help you find them,” Henry blurted.

“We will?” asked Jack.

“Aye,” Barbossa slapped Jack on the back. “We will.”

“Wait a moment! Wait a moment!” Jack waved his hands. He gestured to Barbossa. “You’re a pirate.” He pointed to Salazar. “He’s a pirate hunter. You want to help him, yet he wants to kill us. DID I BLOODY MISS SOMETHING?!?”

“Well, seein’ as we are aboard MY ship, I don’t see why it should concern ye, Jack,” Barbossa grinned.

“I believe you mean MY ship,” Jack corrected him. “You may have your Queen Anne’s Revenge, but the Pearl is mine. I saved her from Blackbeard’s stash of shrunken ships and protected her with me life.”

“Aye, but I’m the one who freed her for ye. Mister Gibbs,” he addressed the first mate.

“Aye, sir?”

“Set a course fer Spain. We’ve a long journey ahead of us, so we’d best be gettin’ started.”

Gibbs, who had long grown used to the two captains bickering over the ownership of the Pearl, nodded, assuming they would eventually come to some sort of agreement, as they always did.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Oh, and Gibbs?” Barbossa stopped him. “Don’t fly the colors.”

“Do I get any say in this at all?” Jack protested.

Barbossa, Carina, and Henry answered in unison. “No!”

Jack sighed. “Alright… Well, then…” He offered Salazar his hand. “I suppose we have a truce?”

Salazar hesitated, then grudgingly accepted the offer, bracing himself against the mast as he pulled himself up to his full height.

“Truce.” Salazar leaned in so his mouth was just above Jack’s ear. “But know this, Sparrow… If I happen to end up on the seas again, if you ever attack a Spanish ship….”

“I know, I know…. You’ll hunt me down and destroy me.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Captain.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Sparrow….”

Jack looked back at the man who had spent a lifetime of hating men like him and saw the faintest gleam of something that almost resembled respect.

“Gracias.”

Jack nodded. As he walked away, he breathed a sigh of relief, striding up beside Barbossa. “Hector, you owe me one for this,” he grumbled.

Barbossa, who had uncorked a bottle of rum, took a large swig and offered a sip to Jack, who graciously accepted.

“Go easy on it, Jack. We’ve naught but a few barrels left, and as we be sailin’ away from the Caribbean, it may be awhile before we get the chance to restock.”

Jack sighed again and shook his head, looking sadly at the bottle. “Why is the bloody rum always gone?”

anonymous asked:

"Bisexuality is defined by an attraction to two or more genders" Bi means two, though. More than two would be polysexual, while all genders or regardless of gender would be pansexual.

Everyone who tries to tell me what bisexuality means personally owes me and all of my followers $1.

***From https://robynochs.com/2015/10/11/the-definition-of-bisexuality-according-to-bi/***

Bisexual Organizations:

http://www.biresource.net/BRC_Brochure_2010.pdf (Bisexual Resource Center: USA)
“The BRC uses bisexual as an umbrella term for people who recognize and honor their potential for sexual and emotional attraction to more than one gender. We celebrate and affirm the diversity of identity and expression regardless of labels.”

http://bisexual.org/am-i-bi/ (American Institute of Bisexuality)
“A bi person has the capacity for romantic and/or sexual attraction to more than one gender.”

http://www.bisexualindex.org.uk/index.php/AmIBisexual (Bisexual Index: UK)
“This is how we define it: A bisexual is someone who is attracted to more than one gender. You might care about the gender of your partner a lot, a little, or not at all – but their gender doesn’t prevent you from being attracted to them.”

http://binetusa.blogspot.com/2014/03/binet-usa-bisexual-media-guide.html (BiNet USA)
“Bisexual – A person whose enduring physical, romantic and/or emotional attraction is to other people of various sexes and/or gender identities. Individuals may experience this attraction in differing ways and degrees over their lifetime.”

http://www.torontobinet.org/bi-culture.html (Toronto Bisexual Network)
“Bisexuality is the potential to feel attracted to and to engage in sexual and/or romantic relationships with people of any sex or gender.”

Activists:

https://robynochs.com/quotes/ (Robyn Ochs; Bisexual Activist)

“I call myself bisexual because I acknowledge that I have in myself the potential to be attracted – romantically and/or sexually – to people of more than one sex and/or gender, not necessarily at the same time, not necessarily in the same way, and not necessarily to the same degree.”

Community on Tumblr:

http://bifacts.tumblr.com/faq

“Bisexuality is the attraction to two or more genders, not necessarily to the same extent, not necessarily in the same way, not necessarily at the same time.”

http://bi-privilege.tumblr.com/idingasbipolyorpan

“bisexuality is, broadly speaking, the attraction to two or more genders. bisexuality is not inherently or transphobic or exclusive of non binary genders—note that there are both binary and non-binary trans people who identify as bisexual. it is possible for bisexuals to be attracted to be attracted to anywhere from two to an infinite number of genders. many times, bisexuals will define their own sexuality as the attraction to both similar and different genders (which encompasses all genders). however, it is important to remember that bisexuals can be attracted to multiple genders without being attracted to people of their own gender. for example, an agender bi person may be attracted to women, bigender, and genderfluid people, or a bi woman might be attracted to men and agender people…..”

http://bi-privilege.tumblr.com/definitions

“bisexual: the (sexual) attraction to two or more genders. sometimes defined as the attraction to same + different genders; however, this is not true of all bisexuals.”

http://biphobic-bisexual.tumblr.com/faq

“bisexuality is the attraction to two or more genders”

http://bisexuality-is.tumblr.com/faq

“Bisexuals have been defining bisexuality as the attraction to two or more/same and other for decades. This isn’t some made-up tumblr joke. Words change meaning. Prefixes change meanings. We didn’t even give ourselves the term bisexual to begin with, doctors did.”

http://nonmono-perspective.tumblr.com/definitions

“bisexual- sexually attracted to your same/similar gender and other gender(s), OR sexually attracted to 2 or more genders. Some bisexuals feel that they experience different kinds or degrees of attraction to different genders/gender presentations.”

http://pinkpurplebluepride.tumblr.com/faq

“Bi: attracted to two or more genders. Some people will define it as “attracted to similar and different genders,” but this is slightly less inclusive than the above definition. I’m of the mind that “similar and different” evolved to satisfy bi=2 prescriptivists, but they are insatiable and forever gross.”

http://thesunnysideofbeingbi.tumblr.com/basics

“…being bi does not reinforce the gender binary. And some bi people are only attracted to men and women–and that’s ok! However, bi is not defined as the attraction to men and women, or two genders. It can be for an individual, but not for our entire community. That definition is not only false, but harmful. (This is not to imply that bi people can’t be transphobic!)

This also means that you don’t have to be sexually attracted to people to be bi. There are so many different kinds of attraction, and to just focus on bisexuality would be excluding a lot of people (e.g. being biromantic).”

http://bisexuwhale-pride.tumblr.com/faq

“What does bisexual mean?

Attraction to:

1. Two or more genders or

2. More than one gender.”

http://themeaningofbisexuality.tumblr.com/

“Bisexuality is the attraction to two or more genders”

http://soloontherocks.tumblr.com/post/104877455841/nothing-extraordinary-soloontherocks-got-it

“Bisexuality is not half gay and half straight. Bisexuality is not in between gay and straight. Bisexuality is not gay when dating the same gender and straight when dating a different gender. Bisexuality is not gay-ish or straight-ish.

Bisexuality is its own fully independent self-contained complete orientation.”

http://bifaq.tumblr.com/post/124565262825/i-dont-find-bi-means-2-to-be-offensive-and-im

http://julietburgess.tumblr.com/post/17986625411/bisexual-is-not-oppressive-can-we-talk-about

Other things worth the read about the definition of bisexuality:

Bisexual Manifesto from 1990:

http://binetusa.blogspot.com/2014/01/1990-bi-manifesto.html

“We are tired of being analyzed, defined and represented by people other than ourselves, or worse yet, not considered at all. We are frustrated by the imposed isolation and invisibility that comes from being told or expected to choose either a homosexual or heterosexual identity.

Monosexuality is a heterosexist dictate used to oppress homosexuals and to negate the validity of bisexuality.

Bisexuality is a whole, fluid identity. Do not assume that bisexuality is binary or duogamous in nature: that we have “two” sides or that we must be involved simultaneously with both genders to be fulfilled human beings. In fact, don’t assume that there are only two genders. Do not mistake our fluidity for confusion, irresponsibility, or an inability to commit. Do not equate promiscuity, infidelity, or unsafe sexual behavior with bisexuality. Those are human traits that cross all sexual orientations. Nothing should be assumed about anyone’s sexuality, including your own.

We are angered by those who refuse to accept our existence; our issues; our contributions; our alliances; our voice. It is time for the bisexual voice to be heard“

http://www.thisisbiscuit.co.uk/but-bi-means-two-and-others-reason-why-we-should-change-the-conversation/

https://somewhatofsomethingother.wordpress.com/2011/03/27/being-bisexual-means-that-youre-only-attracted-to-two-genders-bi-means-two-two-genders/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/aj-walkley/the-bad-b-word-a-need-for-bisexual-acceptance_b_1781589.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/aj-walkley/bisexual-gender-binary_b_2425081.html

”Defining bisexuality, just like defining any identity label, can be complicated and controversial. My definition of the label “bisexual” is informed by the work of The Bisexual Organizing Project. It includes people who use labels such as “bisexual,” “non-monosexual,” “persexual,” “omnisexual,” “ambisexual,” “pansexual,” “queer” or any other term that people use to identify themselves as individuals who are emotionally, romantically or physically attracted to people of more than one sex, gender or gender identity. I also recognize that not everyone chooses to adopt a label to describe their sexual orientation, and I also include non-labeling people who see themselves as part of a queer, non-monosexual or bisexual community under my definition of “bisexual.”“

Reasons why the prefix/etymology argument is not a very good one against “bi = attraction to 2 or more”

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Etymological_fallacy

http://bisexual-dragons.tumblr.com/post/124749476996/i-love-doing-the-october-is-not-the-8th-month-of

http://bifaq.tumblr.com/post/124565262825/i-dont-find-bi-means-2-to-be-offensive-and-im

http://www.thisisbiscuit.co.uk/but-bi-means-two-and-others-reason-why-we-should-change-the-conversation/

https://somewhatofsomethingother.wordpress.com/2011/03/27/being-bisexual-means-that-youre-only-attracted-to-two-genders-bi-means-two-two-genders/

http://bi-privilege.tumblr.com/post/88492965880/but-bi-means-two-fun-fact-did-u-know-we

http://freelgbtqpia.tumblr.com/post/112776160876/how-couldnt-but-bi-means-two-doesnt-it-its-the

http://ideas.ted.com/20-words-that-once-meant-something-very-different/

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/4847343

Lemonade Poetry

Intuition

I tried to make a home outta you.
But doors lead to trapdoors. A stairway leads to nothing.
Unknown women wander the hallways at night.
Where do you go when you go quiet?
You remind me of my father, a magician. Able to exist in two places at once.
In the tradition of men in my blood you come home at 3AM and lie to me.
What are you hiding? The past, and the future merge to meet us here.
What luck. What a fucking curse.

Denial

I tried to change.
Closed my mouth more.
Tried to be soft, prettier.
Less…awake.
Fasted for 60 days.
Wore white.
Abstained from mirrors.
Abstained from sex.
Slowly did not speak another word.
In that time my hair grew past my ankles.
I slept on a mat on the floor.
I swallowed a sword.
I levitated… into the basement, I confessed my sins and was baptized in a river.
Got on my knees and said, “Amen.” And said I mean. I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet.
I threw myself into a volcano.
I drank the blood and drank the wine.
I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God.
I crossed myself and thought… I saw the devil.
I grew thickened skin on my feet.
I bathed…in bleach and plugged my menses with pages from the Holy Book.
But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know.
Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?

Anger

If this what you truly want.
I can wear her skin…over mine.
Her hair, over mine.
Her hands as gloves.
Her teeth as confetti.
Her scalp, a cap.
Her sternum, my bedazzled cane.
We can pose for a photograph.
All three of us, immortalized.
You and your perfect girl.
I don’t know when love became elusive.
What I know is no one I know has it.
My father’s arms around my mother’s neck.
Fruit too ripe to eat.
I think of lovers as trees…
…growing to and from one another.
Searching for the same light.
Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you see me? (Why can’t you) Why can’t you see me? Everyone else can.

Apathy

So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me?

Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness.

Her God was listening.
Her heaven would be a love without betrayal.
Ashes to ashes…dust to side chicks.

Emptiness

She sleeps all day…dreams of you in both worlds.
Tills the blood in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc.
Grief, sedated by orgasm.
Orgasm heightened by grief.
God was in the room when the man said to the woman, “I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.”
Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh my God.” That, too, is a form of worship.
Her hips grind pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves, whenever he pulls out.
Loss.
Dear moon, we blame you for floods…for the flush of blood…for men who are also wolves. We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.
Every fear…
Every nightmare…anyone has ever had.

Accountability

You find the black tube inside her beauty case.
Where she keeps your father’s old prison letters.
You desperately want to look like her.
You look nothing like your mother.
You look everything like your mother.
Film star, beauty.
How to wear your mother’s lipstick.
You go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick.
Somewhere no one can find you.
You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face.
Your mother is a woman.
And women like her can not be contained.
Mother dearest, let me inherit the Earth.
Teach me how to make him beg.
Let me make up for the years he made you wait.
Did he bend your reflection?
Did he make you forget your own name?
Did he convince you he was a God?
Did you get on your knees daily?
Do his eyes close like doors?
Are you a slave to the back of his head?
Am I talking about your husband or your father?

Reformation

He bathes me…
…until I forget their names…and faces.
I ask him to look me in the eye when I come…home.
Why do you deny yourself heaven?
Why do you consider yourself undeserving?
Why are you afraid of love? You think it’s not possible for someone like you.
But you are the love of my life…love of my life…the love of my life…the love of my life.

Forgiveness

Baptize me…
…now that reconciliation is possible.
If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious.
One thousand girls raise their arms.
Do you remember being born?
Are you thankful?
Are the hips that cracked…
…the deep velvet of your mother…
…and her mother…
…and her mother?
There is a curse that will be broken.

Resurrection

You are terrifying…
…and strange…
…and beautiful.

Hope

The nail technician pushes my cuticles back…
…turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says:
“I see your daughters, and their daughters.”
That night in a dream the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach.
The scar heals into a smile.
The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails.
We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath.
I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat.
A flower blossoming out of the hole in my face.

Redemption

Take one pint of water, add a half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons…
…the zest of half lemon.
Pour the water from one jug, then into the other, several times.
Strain through a clean napkin.
Grandmother, the alchemist.
You spun gold out of this hard life.
Conjured beauty from the things left behind.
Found healing where it did not live.
Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen.
Broke the curse with your own two hands.
You passed these instructions down to your daughter.
Who then passed it down to her daughter.
My grandma said, nothing real can be threatened.
True love brought salvation back into me.
With every tear came redemption.
And my torturer became my remedy.
So we’re gonna heal, we’re gonna start again.
You’ve brought the orchestra.
Synchronized swimmers, you are the magician.
Pull me back together again the way you cut me in half.
Make the woman in doubt disappear.
Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot.
The audience applauds…
…but we can’t hear them.

Warsan Shire

Silent (Soulmate!Thomas Jefferson - Part Two)

Originally posted by youforfeitallrights

A/N: Tags haven’t been working, just a heads up. 

Well I got quite a few requests for it, so here is a part two to the Thomas Jefferson Soulmate AU I posted earlier this week. I apologize for it taking so long, but I had some other things I had to finish first. Thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged part one and everyone who requested a part two. This isn’t my best, I know. I’m sorry, but I hope it’s okay.

Again, starts with James Madison’s point of view and shifts to Thomas. I don’t think there’s any warnings necessary for this. It does deal with the topic of mutism, but that is not something that is being debated in any way. It’s just a piece of the characters’ background.

Part One    Masterlist

There are three facts about Thomas Jefferson of which James Madison is absolutely certain: 1) Thomas Jefferson had a soulmate. 2) Thomas Jefferson was the only person alive who could rival Alexander Hamilton’s ability to stick his foot in his mouth. 3) The look on Thomas’s face right now was not that of a man who didn’t want a soulmate.

Thomas was sat on a bench outside in the foyer when James found him. His elbows were on his knees, and his head was in his hands. He looked…lost, or as close to lost as a Jefferson could get. He wasn’t crying; there was no shaking in his shoulders for that to be the case. He was, however, mumbling to himself, something he only did when he was truly overwhelmed.

James couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend in a state like this. Nothing ever rattled Thomas. At most, things got under his skin, but in those situations he had a habit of attacking the problem head on. He didn’t dwell on anything; he faced it. Look at Alexander Hamilton. The poor young man hadn’t even made it ten minutes into a conversation with Thomas before the two had launched into a full blown battle.

This man on the bench was a side of Thomas James did not think existed, or at the very least would not be seen in public. He didn’t know whether to comfort him or try to talk sense into him. Whichever one he chose would surely be the wrong answer. Undoubtedly, the right answer was to let Thomas sit there wallowing in his self-pity for an age until the man finally decided what to do for himself. That wasn’t an idea James could handle, though. James had a sneaking suspicion that Thomas would brood the same way Thomas did all things, in excess. James didn’t like seeing his friend suffering, even if there were a number of people in the other room who felt he deserved it, even if James felt he deserved it sometimes.

James sat down in the open seat beside Thomas with a hefty sigh. That was another fact he could add to his list: Thomas never made things easy. “It could be worse.”

“How could it be worse?” Thomas spat, disapproving of James’s nonchalant tone.

“Well, I ran across a young girl back home who met her soulmate when she was quite young. His first words to her, at the age of five, were, ‘You have a booger hanging out your nose’.” Humor probably wouldn’t help the situation, but it couldn’t hurt either.

James didn’t need to see Thomas’s face to know he was rolling his eyes. “Oh yes, it is so much worse to have a crude, inadvertent observation of a child plastered as your soulmate words than it is to have the incredibly cruel and offensive words of a grown man implying he’s disgusted with you.”

“You aren’t though,” James pointed out, “disgusted with her. It was a moment of anger.” James paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. “Y-You…” He hesitated to ask, “You aren’t disgusted with her, correct?”

“Of course not!” Thomas growled out.

The silence hung in the air for a long beat, and neither of the men really understood why nor did they make an effort to. Not even the sound of dinner being served in the banquet hall interrupted the moment that had settled over the pair of friends. There was so much to talk about and yet so little to say.

“I have a soulmate,” Thomas broke the silence with a quiet murmur, so quiet James wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

“So I’ve heard,” James slumped back against the wall. “Who’d have ever thought?” His tone was teasing, but there was an air of finality to it. In all honesty, no one had ever thought Thomas would have a soulmate, and not just because he didn’t have words on his arms.

Thomas snorted dismissively and finally pulled his face from his hands, glancing back over his shoulder at James. “James, I have gone my entire life knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would live and die alone.”

James leaned forward, elbows on his knees, sinking down to Thomas’s hunched frame. Now wasn’t the time for teasing. Now wasn’t the time for coddling. Now was the time to be honest with his friend, for his own good. “I can’t pretend I understand your pain, because I don’t. Not just because I’ve always known I would find my soulmate, but because I don’t understand how you could be upset with this. You’ve just found your other half. You’ve found a part of you that you never knew existed. You should be jumping for joy, shouting from the rooftops, not sulking angrily in a corner. You don’t have to live alone anymore, Thomas, but you still might.”

Thomas said nothing for a long moment, and James shook his head in disappointment. No one could get through to Thomas if he wasn’t open to listen. He heaved himself to his feet and prepared to head back to the banquet.

“I-I’m not angry.” Thomas quietly refuted, giving James pause. “I’m just… confused.”

James sighed and turned back to the bench, looking down at Thomas, who was looking back at him with burning eyes. “You’re confused?” James didn’t intend to sound so disbelieving. “Thomas, imagine how she must feel. You heard Mrs. Washington as well as I did. She’s spent her entire life thinking you hate her, thinking her soulmate hates her. Even her one true love, the one person in the universe she’s destined to be with, is disgusted by her.” James paused for a moment, hoping that would sink in.

Thomas didn’t respond, but his eyes went down to his arm, the space where the words should be. His thumb rubbed over the blank skin, stretching it over the muscle beneath. It was as blank but somehow felt far less empty.

“James,” Thomas shook his head and looked up, “I…” His voice trailed off when he realized James was gone, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

With a huff, Thomas’s head fell back. This situation went against everything Thomas had come to know. Thomas had always spoken out against soulmates. He wrote about, argued against the very concept of them. He’d debated the topic with Alexander Hamilton earlier that night even. As far as he’d been concerned soulmates weren’t a gift from the universe, they were a rope, more specifically a noose. At least, that’s what he’d always thought. Then again, he’d never known he had one to begin with. He didn’t know what to think anymore.

His entire life he’d thought he was alone. Yesterday, he’d thought he was alone. A few hours ago, he’d thought he was alone. Standing on the Washington’s front lawn, he’d thought he was alone. And now? He felt more alone than ever.

(Y/n) had ran from him the moment she knew who he was. Not the moment she knew he was Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State. She ran when she knew he was her soulmate.

Martha Washington’s voice was yelling at Thomas in the back of his mind, ‘Ashamed of who she is, knowing you’re ashamed of it too!’ Of course she’d run from him. She thought he was ashamed of her. ‘Decades of hating herself.’ His words had made her ashamed of herself.

Only Thomas wasn’t ashamed. Ashamed of his own behavior maybe, but not her… never her. He’d only known of her existence for an hour. He only really knew her name, but he already felt drawn to her. ‘You must be her soulmate,’He could  practically hear George telling him.

Yes, she was his soulmate.

Thomas pushed himself to his feet with a sense of determination. Likely, (Y/n) had already left. He would have to find where you were staying to give his apologies. The Washington’s would know where she was staying. He knew Martha would sooner chew his head off than give him that information. George might be talked into it though. It was certainly worth a try.

“Decided to go after her, I see?”

Thomas nearly jumped. James was standing across from him, coming down the stairs at the other end of the foyer, a thin box tucked tightly under his arm. Thomas had been so wrapped up in his head that he hadn’t realized James had gone upstairs. He thought he’d gone back to the banquet. “Well, as you have so eloquently pointed out, I don’t have to live alone, but there’s a good chance my harsh tongue will ensure I do anyway.” Thomas snapped in a harsher tone than he intended.

“I’m glad you’ve seen the error of your ways,” James was practically smirking as he crossed over to Thomas. “Here, I borrowed this from George’s study.” He extended the box to Thomas.

Thomas accepted with a curious look, “What’s this for?”

“Well, she’s mute, Thomas.” James stated plainly. Thomas’s answering expression showed he wasn’t catching on, so James explained. “Writing materials, Thomas, honestly I thought you were the smart one. She’s mute. She uses sign language, and last time I checked you don’t.” James tapped the top of the box. “If you want her to talk to you, you’ll need her to write it down.”

“She’s still here?” Thomas hated how hopeful he sounded. If everything worked out well, James was never going to let him hear the end of it.

James nodded, smirk still firmly in place with no sign of faltering. “Saw her out the window of George’s study. She’s sitting on the steps on the back porch.”

James turned, leaving his friend to do with as he may, but Thomas caught James by the arm for a moment. “Thank you, James. Thank you.”

“Anytime, my friend.” He smiled. “Now, go. Don’t leave the poor girl waiting.”

Thomas nodded his affirmation and walked briskly down the hall without another word. There wasn’t time for words now. Thomas had a more pressing matter at hand. He’d, no doubt, discuss the situation with James again later.  

When Thomas stepped out back, (Y/n) was sat on the steps just outside, exactly where James said she would be. She was sitting on the middle of the five steps, her feet up laying across the length of the step.  Her hair was partially concealing her face as she stared out across the field. Clearly, she hadn’t expected anyone to come looking for her.

Thomas approached quietly, but not quietly enough as the boards creaked under his shoes.

(Y/n) turned and caught him halfway to the stairs. Her eyes were shining, but there were no signs she’d been crying, which relieved Thomas slightly. She caught her lip between her teeth for a second, clearly pondering, before she turned her gaze back to the field.

Thomas took it as a good sign that she hadn’t run, or spat at his feet, or tried to slap him, or any number of other offenses he probably deserved. She looked like she’d been thinking about it for a second before she thought better of it. He’d take it though. It was a step in the right direction, a step he hadn’t earned yet.

With a small degree of hesitation, bordering on nerves, Thomas lowered himself to sit opposite (Y/n) on the top step. It was a rather uncomfortable position. He didn’t completely fit on the step, and his knees were at an odd angle. However, it seemed to catch (Y/n)’s attention which was a start. Setting the writing material on the step between them, Thomas leaned his head back against the edge of the stairs to look at the stars.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was back at Monticello, almost. There was a smell of grass in the air, but it was too faint. The breeze felt nice against his skin, but it was too cold. The stars were bright, but they were in the wrong position. Everything was just a little off, and yet for some strange reason it still felt right. He knew the reason; it was just hard to admit.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have a soulmate,” Thomas confessed softly, trying not to break the quiet, “to know that one day you will find the one, to know there is someone out there who is destined for you and only you. I always envied them, knowing there was someone out there to love them.” His voice sounded almost tired.

In truth, Thomas was tired. He was so tired. Tired of arguing his every breath, tired of monitoring his every word, tired of fixing other’s messes. He wanted a break from working, from thinking, from listening. He needed a break. He needed something, someone, to lighten the load.

“I never told anyone that, of course, not even James.” Thomas continued, “How could I? I could never admit such a thing aloud; I could barely admit it to myself: that I wanted something they had and I knew I never could.”

Thomas sighed. There was no good way to explain himself. Words were failing him, abandoning him. What was there to say? Nothing would take back the things he’d said. Nothing would remove those words off her arm. Nothing would ever show how truly sorry he was for every pain he had put her through.

A small pressure settled on Thomas’s bent knee, and he nearly lurched. (Y/n) was looking him over thoughtfully, a hand settled on his leg. He couldn’t be sure if she was trying to comfort him or wanted his attention. Either was a good sign. She didn’t look like she wanted to run anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas met her gaze head on. The sooner he said this the better. “In a fit of anger, I took it out on you. I had no idea it would mark you for life. You have to know I never would have if I’d known. Those words, they were just words. I meant nothing by them.”

(Y/n) raised a hand halfway in the air and then hesitated. She looked around in frustration and back towards the house. Lowering both her hands, she huffed out and looked down at her lap.

“Oh!” Thomas realized as (Y/n) stared down at her hands, upset. Picking up the box, he held it out to her. “Writing papers,” he explained.

(Y/n) nodded somberly and took the box gently from his hands. Thomas looked away as she set things out. There was something so vulnerable about her expression in that moment, and he felt wrong looking on.

Thomas imagined he would feel vulnerable as well. The frustration when she raised her hand showed that, wanting to communicate but being so dependent on others for your words. He was such a vocal man; he couldn’t imagine dealing with something like that. Thomas had to admit; he admired her for it.

Thomas felt a tap against the side of his leg and turned his eyes back to (Y/n). She’d turned the paper around between the two of them Blank ink in an elegant hand scrolled across the top of the page. ‘I appreciate your apology, but they were more than just words to me.’

“I’m sure,” Thomas conceded, looking up from the paper. “You have every right to think of them as such. They… I have caused you a great amount of pain. You have every right to every ill will you harbor towards me. I have earned them all. I just want you to know I said them with no malice directed toward you. My argument with Alexander Hamilton had me on edge, and in a heated moment I said something I did not mean.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips and turned the page around, writing hastily beneath her earlier words. ‘Yes, I’ve met Secretary Hamilton. He’s quite an infuriating character.’

Thomas barked out a laugh. “That is quite true. He simply cannot fathom the idea a person might disagree with him.”

(Y/n) bit back a smirk and continued filling the page. It was a tediously slow conversation as (Y/n) wrote, but Thomas was patient enough to wait for her replies. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless words, and it seemed to be relaxing (Y/n).

When she turned the page around again, she’d written near a paragraph. ‘I won’t falsely accept your apology, Secretary Jefferson. That would be rude to both of us. However, I do acknowledge that there were extenuating circumstances on your part. Please understand that I have been living with this offense on my arm my entire life, and it will not miraculously disappear after tonight. Knowing the situation does help, but it will not change that fact. I will do what I can to set aside that pain and move past it for both of our benefits, and I’m sure one day I will forgive you for it. Hopefully, that day is sooner than later. Although, I can make no promises of when that will be.

Thomas nodded along as he was reading. “I can ask for no more than that. You’re truly being far kinder than my situation probably deserves.”

(Y/n) smiled rather hesitantly at him and wrote in the small amount of space along the bottom of the page. ‘General Washington spoke at length about you before your arrival, and I’ve assumed this situation must be hard for you as well.’

“I would ask what he spoke about,” Thomas hesitated, “but if you know this is hard for me than I can assume what he told you.”

(Y/n)’s smile dropped, and she nodded reluctantly, pulling out a second page to scratch out, ‘I was sorry to hear about your wife, Secretary Jefferson. I have also lost a spouse. Not one I cared for, but it was still a painful experience. I would not wish it on anyone.

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, “You as well?” That was rather surprising. Most people with soulmates would wait decades, a lifetime, to marry the one. Thomas’s wife had only agreed to marry him because she had been widowed by her soulmate. They had loved each other, but she had never been in love with him the way he was with her. The memories of her soulmate had always haunted her, and when she passed it had only further confirmed his loneliness when he had to bury her beside another man.

Yes,’ (Y/n)’s hand was a little shaky over the admission. ‘I suppose I should also ask for some of your forgiveness. You did not know I existed. I knew of you, and still I married another. Forgive me; I did not know there would be any situation surrounding what you said to me. I assumed that you would you be quite a cruel man. My husband, John Aylett, turned out to be the cruel one.’

“Is he…” Thomas hesitated, not just because he was unsure of asking but because he was unsure if he wanted to know, “Is he the reason you are…”

No,’ (Y/n) immediately wrote out and showed him before turning the paper back to explain, ‘that was purely biological. Although, John certainly had no problem pointing out my deficiency. He was part of the reason I disliked the idea of meeting you. I assumed you shared his view.’

Thomas refuted adamantly, “I assure you I don’t. You have no reason to be shamed in such a way. Whatever else you think of me, believe that. I’m happy to accept who you are and help however I can.”

Like bringing me paper,’ (Y/n)’s expression was teasing, and it relieved Thomas.

“I cannot take credit for that. James borrowed it from President Washington’s study when I came to look for you. I was in quite a rush. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.” Thomas admitted.

Well give him my thanks. This conversation would have been rather one-sided otherwise.’ (Y/n) paused and huffed out a breath, ‘Like most of my conversations these days.’

“Not to worry,” Thomas actually smiled at this. “I almost always have paper on hand. You just caught me at a bad time…” His smile quickly morphed into his usual cocky smirk as a thought occurred to him. “And besides, I’m sure I will know sign language by the time we see each other again… I’m a very quick study,” Thomas winked.

The couple smiled widely at each other, and all tension broke.

When James came out to check on them an hour later, Thomas was practically rolling in laughter, clutching one of the papers to his chest, as (Y/n)’s face stretched in a triumphant smile. The pair, and most of the stairs, were covered in used writing paper. The box lay beside them with only a sheet or two left of what had been a full stack of paper.

James tried to bite back his wide grin. “Thomas, I believe you owe President Washington a new box of paper.”

Thomas simply chuckled and grinned back at (Y/n), “Yes, yes, of course. As much as he wants.”

The Council [Chapter 3: The Estate]

Originally posted by timetoemptythetrash

Mini Masterlist


The sun is hardly up as you sit anxiously on the couch, waiting for your ride.

The estate, as Bam Bam called it, is apparently where you’ll be residing for the time being and as the seconds tick by you become more and more nervous.

What are they going to be like? You’re more than aware of the connotations your new job entails and you’re committed to doing what you need to break this case.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

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Real Americans

Alright, there are some big warnings on this one, so please read them before you read on. This is a very serious fic, looking a little bit at racism and sexism back in the 20th century, and especially in the military.

During WWII, a lot of people banded together to fight for a safer world, but that doesn’t mean that racism and sexism were temporarily put aside. Women were often limited to working in factories, communications, and as nurses for the war effort.

Japanese Americans were forced to live in internment camps when the Japanese became involved in the war, allied with Germany (though working towards their own militaristic goals). This was for fear that these Japanese Americans, many of which had been born in America, would turn against the country and strike against them from the inside.

And segregation was still in effect during the war. Even in the military, the segregation of African Americans occured, and it was often the case that, despite the large number that enlisted into the war, they filled noncombative roles, and there were very few African American officers.

These things should never be forgotten. Especially considering the fact that this racism and sexism still exists in the world. These people experienced, and often still experience, hardships, just because of the colour of their skin, or the perceived weakness of their gender.

If we do our best to remember this, then we will also remember their strength and bravery in fighting against this prejudice. We still need this strength to keep fighting for equality today.

I also wanted to show that there were, and still are, good people that want this equality. If we forget that, then we lose hope, and we need that hope.

I was a little worried about writing this, as it is a sensitive topic, but it is one that I feel strongly about, and one that I also didn’t think I could just gloss over in this series. If you have any feedback, please let me know.

WARNINGS- SEXISM, RACISM, RACIST SLURS, SEXUAL HARRASMENT DIRECTED AT READER, SWEARING

TIMELINE- 1943

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“Can you believe that she’s been recruited into Cap’s special team? She’s not even a soldier,” one of the American soldiers exclaimed.

“Isn’t she married to Barnes? That’s probably why she’s in,” a second man replied. “It’s going to be an absolute mess… the battlefield is no place for a woman, especially one with no training.”

“Barnes probably just wanted to keep her around so that he can fuck her whenever he wants. Can’t blame him for that.”

“I don’t think the decision had anything to do with Barnes,” a third voice chimed in. “From what I saw of her in Austria, she’s pretty capable.”

“Yeah, I bet she is,” the first man laughed.

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  • Sans: Hey bro,
  • Mettaton: . . .Yes?
  • Papyrus: NO SANS!
  • Sans: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let’s shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! 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... 915. 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. 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? - Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Can 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. Cool. I’m picking up a lot of bright yellow. Could be daisies. Don’t we need those? Copy 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. Chemical-y. Careful, guys. It’s a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Candy-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. . .