#or is it like- now that I’m not actively a threat to myself they’re reconsidering why we are friends in the first place

[softsleepwalker]

I feel I am a tolerable person

[itsclydebitches]

Controversial take, but vol. 6 is the worst season bc its built entirely around fan service. Qrow's letter (IQ was popular), Ruby's proactivity, backstory at last, Ozpin's awful treatment, Bees, killing Adam, adults suck(tm), even Penny's return... just saving throws to keep RWBY alive. So everything failed in 7/8 bc fans thought they had been shown beats that mattered, but CRWBY never added those into their actual plan. Since vol. 6 began its all been misdirect, no one knows what to look at.

Putting aside my own very personal desire to not treat Ozpin and Oscar like that (because that’s where the bulk of my criticism stems from), I think Volume 6 is only a bad season retroactively. The concept of fan service isn’t inherently a problem, especially if the desire for certain things stems from the fans recognizing why that would be good for the show. People tend to reduce fan service to a purely negative thing, produced to appease the “rabid” fanbase, but fans aren’t pulling things they want out of a hat. They’re recognizing what things the story has lost (can our main character make decisions again?), what the story has intentionally or even unintentionally set up (these characters have great chemistry!), and what things might keep the story feeling fresh moving forward (maybe we need new combat ideas, like semblance upgrades). And that’s largely what Volume 6 is made up of, following the highly criticized Volume 5: a whole bunch of changes that were meant to both reintroduce what made RWBY great before and breathe some new life into a six year show. 

Our title protagonist should have agency again, so Ruby starts making decisions. We really should know more about this world and the quest they’re on, so we get an entire episode devoted to lore. We need to make the grimm a threat again, so we introduce the Apathy. Penny, as an android, always had a good chance of coming back, so let’s do that in Volume 7, originally meant to appear in Volume 6. It’s not fans’ love of a character demanding that the story sacrifice something (like logic) to meet that desire, it’s fans picking up on the internal logic of the story (androids can be rebuilt) and extrapolating possibilities. Now, we’re seeing the same work going into Volume 9. The frustration that Jaune fell into the void in part stems from recognizing that our main team hasn’t had much development lately and has been separated a lot since Volume 3/sharing time with JNOR, resulting in few Team RWBY moments. A desire to make Sun a significant part of the Vacuo arc stems from the knowledge that he’s there, he was formerly an important character, he’s friends with our other characters, and it would overall make sense to incorporate him into this part of the story. Hoping that Qrow and Robyn get their own adventure stems from a desire to keep the story internally consistent (please don’t have them arrive in Vacuo within a day when the Atlas citizens supposedly couldn’t just fly off to safety) while the hope that they’ll be set aside entirely until Volume 10 comes from recognizing that our cast is bloated and we need to pare things down. 

So much in Volume 6--giving us lore, introducing a SEW mentor, even acknowledging their headmaster’s mistakes to try and forward the protagonists’ growth--wasn’t bad on its own, but the execution failed horribly for some parts during the volume (Ozpin) and, more importantly, everything else petered out. As you say, the fans, myself included, had all assumed that this was going somewhere, but across two volumes we realized that RT didn’t actually know what to do with these plot points, they just threw them out and then... nothing. Things were either dropped or changed because they never had a real chance to begin with. How many times were we reassured that the group was going to reconsider their position with Ozpin and there would be a whole arc of growth, ending in heartfelt apologies on both sides? Just wait! Two years later, there was no development, no mention of it, and only one, quick apology to scoot that plot point off screen. How many times were we reassured that Penny was coming into her own and that resurrecting her/making her the Maiden was the beginning of a long, fulfilling journey? Just wait! Two years later, she had the powers for two days in-world, had her android identity stripped away, and then died again. The concept of new grimm didn’t have an impact because our group wasn’t fighting them in the Battle of Atlas/they killed the Hound in an episode, Maria as a mentor means nothing because she’s forgotten by the group and then literally forgotten by the story, Qrow’s relationship with Ironwood is tossed out for a kill threat that was then also tossed out for him to fight Harriet instead. It doesn’t feel like they planned any of this. The vast majority of what’s introduced in Volume 6 has no meaning or payoff. In reality, most things are actively contradicted by what comes next. What’s the point of establishing the horror of keeping the Salem secret if Ruby’s just going to turn around and keep it herself? What’s the point of establishing that the Lamp attracts grimm if that’s not going to impact Oscar carrying it around? What’s the point of spending a whole volume with Ironwood trusting them only to make him a cartoon villain at the start of the next? What’s the point of spending a volume emphasizing how much Nora cares for Mantle only for her to go start up Amity instead? What’s the point of Ren questioning their choices and supporting Ironwood if he’s just going to reverse course once his semblance upgrades? And on and on and on. Ideas don’t just disappear, the cast frequently does the opposite of what they should if those ideas had ever mattered. 

The worst part is, I’m still seeing so many fans pushing the “You just have to wait” argument. The conversation surrounding Emerald is nearly beat for beat the conversation surrounding Ozpin. Sure, things were pretty rushed and the emotion of the scenes was all one note… but that won’t last! Just wait until next season when Emerald’s redemption takes center stage. And then if that doesn’t happen there will be lots of excuses—this was the spirit world volume, we’re not supposed to be focusing on Vacuo yet—with further confidence that it will all come to a head in Volume 10. And then when Emerald either dies or is left behind by the plot, those fans will realize across Volumes 8-10 that RT isn’t writing a planned, cohesive story, the same way we realized that across Volumes 6-8. The fan service itself isn’t the problem, it’s that RT introduced a ton of ideas—ideas the fans obviously wanted—and then didn’t have any idea what to do with them. 

[aboycalledeverything]

An In-depth Response to JK Rowling from a Transman

**CW: transphobia, suicide, surgery, discrimination, assault**

Let me first say that we should not allow this conversation to derail the progress and momentum of the Black Lives Matter movement. Though race and sexuality intersect in many fascinating and important ways, it is important to allow the voices of our BlPOC to be heard and amplified for as long as it takes for meaningful, sweeping changes to be made in our society. That being said, I would be remiss if I did not take the time to process and respond to the conversation you have chosen to bring to the table. 

TLDR: To JK’s assertion that trans women threaten the political and biological class of ‘women’,  Acknowledging that trans women are women is not the erosion of a political and biological class. It is strengthening those classes by accepting the women who, despite all threats of assault or death, stand by their identity and celebrate womanhood.

Let me also begin by saying thank you. For surviving, for persisting, for blessing the world with the gift of magic. The books-which-need-not-be-named were and are pillars of my childhood, identity, and life philosophy. I will never stop finding solace in the pages of those books. 

Before we can continue the conversation, I need to introduce myself. I am a (relatively) young white transman and former D1 softball player. I chose to defer physical transition but came out socially as a transman in my sophomore year and was one of the few openly trans NCAA athletes at the time. I was also a student, and spent a large portion of my collegiate career studying LGBTQ+ issues and how they connect to human psychology. My senior capstone was a paper titled “Transmen and Suicide: Unique Contributors to a Disproportionately High Suicide Attempt Rate.” This involved both an in-depth literature review of trans research and theory as well as an independent collection and analysis of transman testimonies. The year after graduation was spent as a Lab Coordinator for the Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity: Health and Human Rights Lab at the University of Texas at Austin which does phenomenal sociological and psychological research on queer youth in particular. This is not to say that I am an expert, but rather to make it clear that I, too, have spent years researching the fraught topics of gender and sexuality.

Thank you for referring to my trans brothers as “notably sensitive and clever people.” We do try to use the unique empathy granted by being seen and treated as both women and men. Most of us grew up as girls and have been targeted by the misogyny and sexism that you reference; we try to use those experiences to inform our responses and opinions to societal issues. I, specifically, am going to use my lived experiences to respond to your essay. There are some points with which I agree and appreciate your recognition - freedom of speech, the importance of nuanced conversation, and the fact that both women and trans people are at disproportionate risk of violence and must be safeguarded. There are other points with which I take umbrage and will address one by one.

JKR: “It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.”

Response:  Let’s be clear: trans activists - at least the majority of us - are not trying to erase sex as a definition. Instead, we are asking that the parameters be reconsidered to make space for intersex people and who have biologically transitioned. Your points about the biological differences in treatments for MS are well taken. Ignoring intersex people and focusing on only the binary sexes male and female, you’re right. There are often sex differences in diseases and health disorders. But the problem is that we don’t always know what drives those differences; if they’re based on hormones, physical bodies, or something else entirely. Intersex and trans people, if they choose, now have the medical capability to change their hormones and physical bodies to the extent that they can be classified as male or female.

I’m not going to give you a full explanation on sex as an expression of levels of hormones, chromosomes, and physical organs. I’m sure you already know that both biological men and women have varying amounts of the same hormones, and that hormone replacement therapy can and does give trans men and women the hormonal levels that correspond to each definition. I have been taking testosterone for just under 2 years and, for all intents and purposes, have the chemistry of a biological man. In the same way, surgeries can and do affect physical biology and organ makeup, from removal or reconstruction of a penis or vagina to the removal of ovaries and uterus entirely. 

This creates a gray area as to how to medically treat diseases like MS in trans people. We’re still learning, and I’ll be the first to admit that. What I can say is that there are many binary trans people who are not trying to replace legal definitions of sex with gender, but rather are trying to expand the legal definitions of sex to those who, for all intents and purposes, are biologically male or female.

JKR: “I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.”

Response:  I would very much like to see the studies that you are referencing in this “huge explosion” of detransitioning individuals. If you’re referencing the article by Lisa Littman, it is definitely worth noting that her study was a) descriptive rather than empirical and b) based on the testimonials of parents and not the actual trans youth.

According to a different and arguably more experienced researcher, Dr. Johanna Olsen, regret and detransitioning as you talk about it are extremely rare. I encourage you to watch her video below and read over some of the other research she is and has been doing.

Even if we were to listen to descriptive research such as Littman’s and assume that there are people who wish to detransition, the lack of fertility you’re talking about is not universal and, as with people assigned female at birth, varies. According to recent studies, trans men who wish to reproduce biologically can take a break from testosterone while carrying their children and resume afterwards. So far, there are no negative side effects for the children of transmen.

What should also be considered, especially in youth, is that hormone blockers are entirely reversible. But puberty is not. When trans children are put on hormone blockers, they are essentially delaying permanent puberty and taking time to examine whether it’s right for them. Access to medical care such as hormone blockers are essential to trans youth because it does give them time to figure out their identity before going through the male or female puberty that affects them.

I have not seen any cases of transition driven by homophobia, but would like to note that working to make parents less homophobic and transphobic seems to be a better use of time than arguing against the right of many trans youth who do need access to medical intervention.

JKR: “The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’”

Response: This point is one of the more frustrating parts of your article because it is using one medical professional’s opinion to ignore a horrifying truth. Trans adults and youths experience suicidality and depression at staggering rates. While I cannot comment on studies in the UK, here in the US the lifetime suicide ideation rates for trans adults is 81.7%. The attempt rate is 40.4%, almost 10x the national average of 4.6%. 

And those are just the statistics of the people who survived long enough to participate in the study. Denying the real threat of suicidality in trans youth is not only saddening - it is actively harmful.

JKR: “The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.”

Response: This is one of the most frequent arguments I see for people denying trans men their identity. My own mother has suggested that I transitioned to escape sexism. To this, I respond that choosing to transition does not provide an escape to discrimination and harrassment. I was well aware, when choosing to come out and transition, of the statistics of discrimination I was entering. I was well aware that it might mean the loss of my athletic scholarship, the dismissal of the team of sisters that I played on, It was not a matter of escaping sexism, but rather a matter of being my most authentic self. Even if you dismiss my own personal experience, I would point to the trans women who actively transition and give up their male privilege in exchange for the trials and tribulations of womanhood. Either way, I can assure you that the suicidality trans people experience makes the “choice” to transition no more of a choice than raising your hands because a gun is pointed at your head. 

JKR:  “ I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria”

Response:  I appreciate your recognition of our reality! I would love to see the studies that present a 30% difference. In my experience, those of us that lived long enough to see adulthood have not grown out of dysphoria, even if we’ve learned coping strategies to make it bearable. And again, hormone blockers for teens allow the opportunity for them to grow however they need to without permanent changes being made.

JKR:  “So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside.”

Response:  Once again I cannot speak to the politics or legislation of the UK. What I can say is that “bathroom bans” on trans people that require us to use the fitting room/bathroom/locker room of the sex we were assigned at birth lead to significant sexual and physical assault on trans people, which already face a disproportionate risk (as you mentioned). I personally have been fortunate enough to have not been physically assaulted when I was trying to go to the bathroom, but have been harassed in both mens and womens bathrooms (which I varied between during my transition, depending on how well I thought I was passing). Many of my friends are not as lucky.

JKR:  “But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive.”

Response:  The implication that trans women - who are literally dying to be acknowledged as women - putting on a “costume” is flagrantly offensive. I am choosing to believe that you did not intend this implication and instead are confusing sex and gender. In which case,would refer you to the seminal work Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity by Judith Butler. According to her, gender is literally a performance that one chooses to express. Transwomen define their gender and femininity as individuals, and do not choose to go through the grueling process of changing their biological sex because they like Jimmy Choos. The gender ‘woman’ is not a “pink brain” but rather an identity that can be inwardly cultivated and outwardly expressed. The sex ‘woman’ or female is an amalgamation of complex physiological systems that, as we’ve already discussed, can be altered. 

JKR: “I refuse to bow down to a movement...” 

Response: There is undeniably a movement, a “cancel culture” that dismisses nuanced conversation. I, like you, am concerned about the erosion of free speech and the expression of alternative points of view in nuanced discussions such as this one. But this movement is not specific to trans people and should not be described as such. Most trans activists and researchers that I know are not asking you to “bow down.” We’re asking you to come to the table and have an open mind. We’re asking you to use your huge platform to help trans people (as you clearly want to) without harming them (as you clearly have).

JKR: “...that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it.”

Response: This is the crux of the “TERF wars”. The refusal to accept trans women as women. To this, I would simply say: Acknowledging that trans women are women is not the erosion of a political and biological class. It is strengthening those classes by accepting the women who, despite all threats of assault or death, stand by their identity and celebrate womanhood.

[firewhisperer13]

You Better Bring an Umbrella, Vol. 2: Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Exogenesis (Or, The Movement of Life Elsewhere)

The names of the sections in this chapter correspond to something VERY specific. I literally took the names from their names. Wondering if any of you know what it is…

Hints: they’re from an album. All 3 songs are in a row. They are NOT the only titles of the pieces.

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

The City, 2007

Overture

           The emptiness around me buried its way into my skin, deep into my mind as it whispered threats and echoed memories of how life once was. The armoire doors kept the reminders behind them, the neatly-made bed lacking even a single wrinkle. Everything had this brand-new sheen to it, as though it had never been touched, the toys never played with, the books not once cracked open and scanned over vigorously. The loneliness of it all enshrouded me, attempting to use forceful hands to pull me in and get me to stay forever. I didn’t dare try the other room downstairs, the wounds somehow still fresh. It had been five years since that room had last been used, and now it, too, was used as nothing more than a museum of a life that had once been. Three rooms now stood useless in this home, never sealed off, but haunting enough to discourage most visitors.

           Unfortunately, it’s hard to ignore the siren’s song of the tableau right across from what would soon become my own.

           It was only when the bitter sting buried itself so deep into me that I thought of nothing else that I made the decision to turn around and resume my own activities. My dresser drawers and closet stood wide open, nearly emptied of their contents. They played a sad, hollow song, lacking what gave them life, as they creaked with the shifting that comes with any old house. It was trying to get me to stop for a moment and reconsider, but I was unwilling. Soon, I would have nothing left here, and I knew that. Other opportunities were opening for me in other places, far enough away to keep me from having to run into someone who would just ask why.

           The only difficulty came from making the announcement to the head of the household. These days, I wasn’t even sure he would notice I was in the room, but I still felt it a common curtesy to assure him the fourth empty room wasn’t the result of a kidnapping or disappearance. It was all in the name of attempting to move on.

           “Hey, Mina.”

           I jumped as Klaus slammed his hands against my doorway, peering his head in and disrupting my thought process. Still, as I turned around to look at him, I couldn’t be angry.

           “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I flashed him a smile, assuring everything was good between us. “The old man’s unoccupied, so if you want to break the news, now’s your chance.”

           The moment the possibility of my declaration became reality, I began to tremble. Could I really do this? Could I stare down the demon and say those four fateful words?

           “Dad, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

           He let Diego go without much of a fight, but then again, Diego wasn’t prone to what I was. I knew there was something wrong with me, understood that I was hurting myself and putting myself at risk, but I couldn’t stop. And that was the worst part of it all. I tricked myself into believing that if I left, I would start to get better.

           But, with no one left to talk to, would that really be possible?

           Noticing my distress, which I’d never been very good at hiding in the first place, Klaus made his way over and pulled me into a tight hug, trying to remind me that everything would work out in the end. Like it or not, there really was nothing Dad could do to stop me. He could protest and hurl his insults and lack of belief in me right into my face, but at the end of the day, he wouldn’t leave that office to keep me from going out the door. Not to mention, I was stronger than him, even now.

           “I’m gonna miss you,” Klaus whispered into the top of my head. I pushed away and poked his arm.

           “Stop that! No more talk about me leaving until tomorrow morning, okay?” Though he appeared reluctant, Klaus still nodded. “Let’s just try to have a good time and be as happy as we can until then. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

           I could feel myself swaying as I took careful steps down a floor and to the right. The thought of facing my final trial turned my stomach over, flipping and throwing it in whatever what my mind pleased, but I just kept telling myself I had to do it… I had to do it… I had to do it…

           Knock, knock, knock.

           There was silence on the other end for a while, and I began to fear Dad already knew and was just refusing to speak to me. Somehow, he always seemed to know what was going on with all of us, so it was entirely possible he’d already found out. I feared the consequences of that far more than if he was given little time to process.

           “You may enter,” his voice called from the other side of the door.

           Following a shaky, deep breath, I slid open the oaken door and stepped into the frigid office, adorned with ceiling-high shelves of books and oddities I wasn’t sure it was possible to acquire without shady tactics. Dad refused to lift his eyes from whatever notes or letters he was writing, but I just assumed he was acknowledging my presence by letting me in, and began to speak.

           “Dad, I know this is kind of out of nowhere, and I’m not giving you a lot of time to process, but I have to get this out now, otherwise I’m never going to, and then I’m never going through with this and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

           I was stalling, and he knew it.

           “Out with it, Number Four,” he sighed, annoyed.

           Time to climb the mountain’s peak, Mina.

           “I’m moving out tomorrow.”  

           It hadn’t come out the way I’d planned it, but nonetheless, the message was delivered. It took Dad a couple of seconds to register what I’d said, but when he did, he actually dropped what he was doing and took the time to stare at me with an icy glare.

           I swallowed, my heart begging to be set free from my chest.

           “Do you honestly think you’re ready for that?” he snapped, chuckling to himself as he spoke. “You believe you can go out there in the world and function like an adult, when you still have the temper and problem management of a child?”

           “I can’t stay here, Dad.” I refused to cry, though his words left me awfully close to doing just that. “It’s… it’s just too hard, and I feel like, if I get out of here and away from you, I can start to get better.”

           He knew I was lying, but he didn’t press on that much further.

           “Away from me?”

           I gave myself a second, preparing for what I was about to throw out into the world. Whatever would come of it, it needed to be said.

           “I can’t forgive you for everything you’ve done and said, Dad. I can’t. And as long as you’re going to continue talking to me like this—like everything that’s happened is my fault—then I don’t think it’s in my best interest to stay here.” Dad opened his mouth to fight back, but I cut him off. “I have an audition with the New York City ballet this weekend. They’ve offered to help cover the rent on an apartment near the studio until I can pay for it myself. They really want me there.” Once again, I didn’t allow him to speak. “What’s done is done. I leave tomorrow afternoon.”

           It was a risky move not to stay in the room, considering I’d still have to face Dad at dinner and breakfast tomorrow morning, but for now, I could face what I’d done and be happy about what I’d said.

 Cross-Pollination

           The familiar chime of the dinner bell released its panic-inducing chimes through the empty halls. Strength that kept me from collapsing decided that now was a good time to completely leave my body, meaning I’d have to face all of this with my own wits and grace—something I didn’t really have. Part of me wanted to just skip out on this all together, but I feared the consequences of not being present more than anything else. Dad would make a big scene out of all this, try to guilt me into staying, and I knew it, but I couldn’t put it off.

           Face the demon down, defeat him once and for all, get the hell out of the dungeon. It sounded a hell of a lot simpler than it was.

           A toxic cloud descended upon the long table as each of my siblings took our placed behind our chairs, waiting for Dad to finally make it down and allow us to sit. Something was choking all of us—the air of foreboding, perhaps. Maybe it was just me, and I was projecting onto the rest of my siblings. Klaus’ grip on my arm did nothing to lessen the weight trying to push me through the floor.

           With each footstep inching closer, I felt bile crawling further and further up my throat. The moment he entered the room, he locked eyes with me, refusing to relent even as we took a seat and began to eat our dinner. I found myself picking at pieces and only eating little bits of each, blaming the sudden intimidation laid down on me. The voice of Herr Carloson discussing how to survive if one is ever placed in danger certainly didn’t help. Claws dug themselves, grounding me into my seat and forcing me to look Dad in the eyes, unwilling to allow me to look away for even a moment.      

           It took quite a while, but eventually, Allison noticed something strange going opposite her at the table. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed her darting her gaze back and forth between Dad and I, attempting to figure out what the hell was going on. It was like a game of who could intimidate who first, only I never signed up to play. I was just pulled out of the stands and forced into it.

           “What’s going on?” Allison finally asked, breaking the golden rule of dinner. The fact that we were all adults and still had to adhere to Dad’s rules felt ridiculous.

           Dad took the time to set down his silverware and blot his lips with his napkin, playing the game to the best of his ability.

           “Number Four has decided she is mature enough to leave these premises,” he stated with a scoff, trying to sway our other siblings to his side. Allison stared at me in disbelief while Vanya and Klaus feigned shock, already completely aware I’d made this decision. I heard Luther drop his silverware against his plate, unable to fathom any other response.

           “What?” Allison gasped. “You’re going?”

           “Oh, like you care,” I snapped. I could feel my temper starting to shake itself up, but if I was going down, I’d go swinging.

           “Hey, come on, Mina,” Luther interrupted. “That’s harsh.”

           “Don’t baby me, Luther.” I started to rise from my seat, and I could see Klaus move my dishes out from under me. “You’re not my parent, you’re not my leader anymore.”

           “If a mission comes up, we’ll be without your aid,” Dad stated bluntly. “Do you want to leave your siblings without help?”

           I wouldn’t give into the guilt tripping… I wouldn’t give in… I wouldn’t give in…

           “What missions?” I shouted. “There’s been nothing for two years! Face it, Dad, you’re trapped in the past. You think there’s going to be something, but guess what. The Umbrella Academy is dead, and the world knows it. Anything that goes wrong, they turn to the police.”

           Now Dad was on his feet, still refusing to cross over to me.

           “You think you are prepared for the adult world, when any time something does not go the way you hope, you lose control like a toddler and start screaming until you get what you want. What about that makes you think you will survive out there?”

           “I won’t know until I try!” I persisted, stubborn as a rock.

           “Mina, please, just—“ I swatted Klaus away.

           “Do you honestly believe there’s any benefit in me staying here?” I seethed. “My flesh-and-blood brother disappeared, and at this point, I’ve accepted he’s not coming back, another one of my brothers is buried in the ground, and a third walked right out. You didn’t say shit when Diego left, why the hell are you putting up such a fight with me?”

           Dad fell completely silent, and for a moment, I thought I’d bested him. He kept his gaze down at his hands, like I’d actually wounded him somewhere deep.

           It didn’t last long.

           “If you leave, you are not welcome back, not even to visit you siblings. And they are not permitted to visit you.” He looked around at each of my brothers and sisters, warning them from thinking any differently.

           Had I not been so caught up in the moment, that might’ve given me pause. Though he tried his best to hide it, I knew Klaus had turned to secret substances to control the ghosts constantly screaming at him, and Vanya had fallen so quiet recently, I felt like she needed someone there for her. If I left her with Luther and Allison, she’d be overwhelmed with negative words thrown her way. Maybe I wasn’t meant to protect them, but I worried what would happen to them without some sort of mediator.

           Unfortunately, that was the last thing on my mind.

           “Fine.”

           I pushed back the chair behind me, taking care not to knock it over this time around, and made my way back up to my room, feeling as though I’d won something.

 Redemption

           Early morning chill spread itself against my coat, trying to penetrate through the layers meant to keep me safe. Plans changed after the night before, leaving me eager to get out of this god forsaken place and move on with my life. There was no point in me staying here longer than I needed to, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to have to face anyone again after last night. At some point, embarrassment and shame had crept in, infecting my mind and whispering to me that no one loved me enough to keep me here. Much like a child would with the words of their bullies, I believed the thoughts, pushing me to completely finish packing the night before. I only caught a few hours of sleep the night before, but they would do for now.

           I tried my best to creep out quietly, without stirring up anyone’s attentions, but somehow, Klaus and Vanya heard me, and right as I was reaching for the door handle, they rushed up and pulled me into a tight group hug, assuring me they’d be all right. Selfish tears fought their way up, wondering what exactly I’d do without those two right by my side. I couldn’t go back on anything now; I’d sealed my fate. Last night assured that. I expected everyone to be angry with me after my final declaration. It made sense they’d never want to talk to me, and maybe, it would have made all of this easier.

           I’d never really acknowledged I’d be leaving my biggest support system throughout my whole life. The view of my family had become tainted through the years of bitter muck I’d been forced to swim through, but leaving seemed to give me a new sort of clarity. Even Allison and Luther had been shoulders I’d cried on a couple of times. We’d shared childhood trauma, held each other when the pain became overwhelming, and genuinely worried about those who we saw slipping further into the corners of their mind. I made myself resent those that had chastised me, but in reality, they were just trying to look out for my best interest… most of the time.

           It gave me pause, to think of leaving what I’d always known, but this would be good for me—at least, that’s what I convinced myself of. I needed to gain some independence and learn to solve my own problems. I couldn’t always run to my brothers and sisters whenever something went wrong, otherwise I’d be left completely incapable. Not to mention, I’d have to learn to make my own living eventually. The Umbrella Academy was not a permanent thing, and I’d likely gone on my last mission years ago, so there really was no point in staying here.

           I hadn’t anticipated the echoing loneliness: how quiet the rooms in my new apartment would be, how everything laid out perfectly in order was somehow more haunting the empty rooms. I couldn’t have prepared myself for the brutal world I was about to be stuck right into. I’d been naïve enough to believe things would work out the way I hoped, and I’d never have to look back again. I thought I could wonder about my siblings, maybe see where their lives had taken them when they inevitably decided to leave, but I’d never long for home again.

           I wish I could take it back.

[inklingleesquidly]

The Wonderful Splatwoon: Eilogue

The final chapter of the series. I said to myself that I would make it when The Wonderful 101 received a representative in Super Smash Bros or got a modern remaster.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/platinumgames/the-wonderful-101-remastered?ref=checkout_rewards_page

I’m so excited about this, I pledged to the Wonderful Art tier! Please do feel free to pledge as well, or buy the game when they release it; you won’t regret enjoying one of my favorite action games of all time! And thank you for enjoying the Squidlys time as super heroes! Hope to do more with them in the future 

Lee and Janine star as Wonder Inkling, the ink-tastic mom and son duo charged with defending Inkopolis from a mysterious alien invasion. Using ancient technology containing the heroic souls and power of over 100 wonderful heroes, this super powered duo saves the day! 

Word Count: 1,324 words

After a period of unrest and attacks on the bustling megalopolis of Inkopolis, its citizenry strived to return to normalcy. A picture of what the city hoped to be lied in the Finjuku district. There, at the Seaside Hill High private academy, students had their lessons as they always did.  

Breaking away from the mundanity of being in a stuffy Biology lab, a class was taking place in an outdoor pavilion on the schoolgrounds. The instructor energetically proceeded through his presentation. “--And if you’ll watch carefully, you’ll see the interesting reaction this alga has to this airborne chemical mixture.”

SHEEEOOOOOO—KABOOM!

An ear-piercing whine sliced through the air, followed by an earth rattling explosion miles-off in the distance. Those who managed to recover from the scare of the blast could look up to see the sky being peppered by mysterious midair machinery. The aliens were attacking!

Panic and chaotic confusion immediately set in between students and teachers alike. The more rational educators rushed into action, herding everyone into the school’s main building. In the time since the alien’s arrival, many facilities in the city had received several structural reinforcements to make them safe sanctuaries. Seaside Hill High had been designated one of those safe zones.

The teacher heading the Biology class held one of the armored steel doors open as lines of teens haphazardly filed in. “Single file! Don’t shove! Remember the emergency drills!” He shouted over all the screeching, gently pushing on the shoulder of the occasional passer to keep the way uncongested. “If your classes aren’t on the ground floor then stick together and find a room to hunker down in.” While the educators did their best to keep order, there was no fighting the alarmed disarray.

Soon, the straggling students all managed to seek safety—all except for one who lagged behind even the last teachers rushing in.

“Mr. Squidtalto, you have to get inside!”

“What? Lee?” The Science instructor found one of his students hadn’t taken refuge. Lee Squidly. “What are you still doing out? We have to lockdown the school.” He hurriedly urged.

Lee mysteriously refused. “I know, so you have to get in now!” Confused, but still anxious, Mr. Squidtalto tried to urge him in. In the end, he seemed to concede, “Okay, okay, I’ll go—SIR, LOOK, IT’S AN ALIEN!” He yelped, pointing away.

“WHAT? WHERE?” The teacher followed his direction, only for the Inkling sophomore to shove him in and slam the heavy door closed. Over the sound of the science instructor’s pleading shouts, Lee heard the clangoring noise of the electronic locks safely sealing everyone inside.

With that, the campus was left completely and utterly deserted. The only sign of life left as the alien threat loomed ever closer was Lee. Nobody could see, and nobody would know about the always timid, soft spoken young man.  

Glasses clutched in his hand, head raised, shoulders cocked back, he boldly looked toward the oncoming assault. Everybody is safe, I can go stop this.

The brave Inkling didn’t get far out of the school courtyard before he was suddenly ambushed. Two hulking monstrous machines belonging to the alien army dropped directly in front of his path. His reflex was to raise his fists, ready for a fight, only to be swooped upon by a pair of aviary automatons. Surrounded on all sides; even the quickest of quick thinking wouldn’t be able to save him.  

The extraterrestrial weapons trained their sights on him. Then, without warning, they fired beams of raw energy directly at him; energy so blisteringly hot they would disintegrate him right on the spot.

Or did they?

If the machines could feel surprise, they would as there was no anticipating their target leaping high into the air, and out of the way of their attack. One of them couldn’t react in time to being pelted by a rapid blasting of ink. As it fell to the counterattack, the rest of them seemed to stare forward, finding the child they attacked had transformed.

Just before the beams struck him, Lee activated his secret weapon. Pinned to his ear was a most wonderful device; one psychically linked to his mind that triggered in one-one billionths of a micro-instant. At the call of “WONDER EYES INKLING!” he donned an all-too familiar burning red costume, only something was distinctly different.

His stance, and the way he gripped a pair of Inkopolis Defense Force issued .96 Gal ink shooters was so much more powerful than ever before. As the one machine began to succumb to the ink spreading through its system, Lee made a declaration.

“I’m a special combat agent of the Inkopolis Defense Force planetary secret service, secret weapon designated for combating extraterrestrial invasion.” As he spoke, the mech fell to its side. “Codename: Wonder Inkling... Junior!” Just as he finished, the robot punctuated his introduction by exploding in a mighty fireball.

Without sparing a moment for their fallen comrade, the three remaining automatons launched another assault.

The empowered boy dodged with great agility, retaliating with super charged shots from his dual weapons. As they failed to hit him and began to succumb to his ink shots, he proposed diplomatically. “Lay down your arms invaders, come peacefully and we won't have to use force!”

One of them remained standing. Camouflaged just long enough by the explosions of its fellow robotic brethren, it moved to attack Lee.

In a flash, it was halted by a pink streak of light delivering a powerful punch.  The first hit sent the machine reeling off its feet, followed by a speedy second jab. The strike smashed clean through its metallic carapace, annihilating it just like the rest.

The new arrival was clothed in the same super powered exoskeleton and identity concealing mask as Lee. Only they were colored in flashy, passionate pink. The sight of the suddenly appearing costumed entity made Lee clench his fists tight against his sides and laugh. “Heh-eh, Mom, you made it!” Watching her turn to face him with a skeptical glance made him suddenly remember their decorum. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and saluted. “uh-ah-he-hum, thank you for coming, Wonderful One leading the Inkopolis Defense Force Field Operations, codename: Wonder Inkling!”

Her expression softened, and she couldn’t help but giggle. His abrupt eagerness to adopt this superhero persona he created was so charming. “Ara ara, oh honey, it’s so cute when you act like such a little hero!” A mighty clank sounded as she clapped her shining golden colored gauntlets together.

“Tsk, Mom…” He muttered at her fawning.

Just then, a serious, commanding voice buzzed over their communicating radios. “Come in Wonder Inkling Senior and Junior; the aliens are attacking the city. They’re converging on Inkopolis Tower. Make your way to Shee-Booyah as soon as possible.”

It was such a feat that in an instant, the peaceful city could be transformed into a warzone. I.D.F. jets rumbled across the sky while fights with earthbound enemies could be seen on the way to the center of town.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”   Janine punched her open hand with her fist. “Ready to go? Partner?”

Standing at her side, Lee readied his pair of super shooters. “I’m right here, ready for anything!” Thinking back; recalling the hours upon days upon weeks of convincing it took to get her to reconsider her decision of ending their ties to the Inkopolis Defense Force and fighting the invaders. Now, they were back in action.

Further fueled by his vigor, the maternal woman said, “That’s my boy. Wonder Inkling, and Wonder Inkling Jr!”  

She held out her hand, to which Lee leapt up to smack his own against hers. With their energies combined, the two merged together into the towering form of Unite Kraken.

With their wonderful power surging through their invincible transformation, the Squidly family yelled together. “Team, unite up!” and they charged into battle.

THE END....?

[shireness-says]

If I Could See Your Face Once More (4/6)

Summary: This time, there’s no celebration at Granny’s when the latest crisis has been resolved. Instead, they’re left to deal with the body of Killian Jones. A 5B canon divergence where Killian dies in Camelot, never becoming a Dark One. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. ~8.3K. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

A/N: I’m sorry for what’s about to happen. I promise I’ll fix it.

Thanks to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, even if she’s mad at me, and to @csmarchmadness for getting me posting this in the first place. I’ll have the 5th chapter up as soon as I finish it.

Tagging: @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd, @superchocovian, @snowbellewells, @killianjones4ever82, @wellhellotragic, @ohmakemeahercules, @let-it-raines, @lifeinahole27. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to the list!

Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!

Seeing Hades standing in the library, threatening the boy Killian views as a son, is the stuff of nightmares. Killian so distinctly remembers every blow, every cut, every bruise inflicted upon him in the god’s cavernous lair; he remembers, despite Hades’ suave exterior, exactly how furious he got when Killian refused to beg for mercy. It makes Killian’s blood run even colder within his dead veins to see that same… demon masquerading as man anywhere near Henry.

Hades mentioned a proposition, but Killian isn’t interested. “We’re not interested in deals, tyrant,” he growls back.

The god only hums though, like he’s got a secret. It just might worry Killian even more than the deal itself. “Are you sure? You might think differently once you have all the information. Reconsider, if you will.” Hades rolls his eyes as Belle pulls Henry further behind her across the room. “Honestly, you’ve got to stop that. What, you think I’m going to smite the kid down? Not my style.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” David demands, ignoring their enemy’s flat attempt at reassurance. Killian’s wondering the same thing - Emma’s father has always just been a bit more blunt about things. Not one for banter, that one.

“I’m sure you’ve discovered my lovely gift already? The personalized headstones? I’ve always been one for that personal touch, you know.” Hades, on the other hand, prefers to yammer away, in love with theatrics and the sound of his own voice. Killian would much rather he just get to the bloody point. “As time’s gone by, though, I’ve really found myself thinking I just didn’t do quite enough. I mean, you’ve got a child with you! How rude of me not to cater to the youth!”

“You didn’t,” Regina growls, as realization slowly dawns on all of them. Oh, gods. Killian feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh, but I did,” Hades confirms, smiling that slimy grin at the collected crowd as Belle instinctively holds Henry tighter. “Like I said: I don’t need to do any of that messy smiting business. Not when I can just add dear Henry’s name to one of those monuments. Neater, don’t you think?”

“You son of a bitch,” Killian spits. Only Emma’s tight grip on his hand and Liam throwing a cautionary arm across his chest keeps him from throwing himself at Hades, and he can spot the same blazing rage in everyone’s eyes. “I’ll kill you, I swear I will, you demon.”

“Good luck with that,” Hades replies, rolling his eyes. “We can either go that route - which won’t work, by the way, in case you’ve haven’t forgotten our lovely little interlude on my home turf before - or you can listen to my proposition.”

“We’re listening,” Liam says, casting a warning look in Killian’s direction. Hear him out, he’s silently saying. Know what you’re up against.

“The way I see it, you’ve got something I want, and I’ve got something you want. So, just give me the Olympian Crystal, and I’ll be happy to wipe all those headstones clean. Hell, I’ll even throw in a portal to get you all home in, say,” he makes a great show of looking at an oversized watch, “two hours.”

It’s a good deal, Killian knows. There had always been some uncertainty around how they would escape the Underworld once they had found a way to revive him, and now that Henry has been tossed into this mess… well, that’s non-negotiable. Henry’s safety, the safety of both his children comes before anything else. Killian would gladly throttle Hades with his bare hands, but not at Henry’s expense.

Emma’s always been an all-or-nothing type of woman, however. “And Killian?” she demands.

“Well, I can’t let a soul that’s rightfully mine just waltz out of here, you know. It’s just not good for business. I think I’ve been more than generous,” the god protests.

Emma looks like she’s about to snap and turn down the deal, but Killian interrupts before she gets the chance. “Give us a moment to talk.”

“Oh, of course. Important decisions, I understand. I’ll just be over here,” Hades says, poofing himself into one of the library chairs. Showoff. With their threat sedately seated to the side, crossing his legs in a deceptively casual manner, Belle and Henry take this moment to dart across the room to where everyone else is standing. Killian draws Henry into his arms just as soon as he’s close enough. The poor lad looks pale and worried, and all Killian wants is to alleviate that concern as much as he can.

(It also might be one of the last times Killian holds his boy if they take this deal like he thinks they should, but Killian is trying not to think about that yet.)

“You can’t seriously be thinking about taking Hades’ deal,” Emma hisses. “We are not leaving without you.”

“I’m more than thinking about it; I’ve made my decision. Emma, love, we’ve got to take his deal, it’s the only way,” he begs.

“I refuse to accept that. We came down here to save you, Killian, and I don’t intend to give up.”

“Emma, please,” he begs. “I love you, and I want to come home with you more than anything, but things have changed. It’s been bad enough to have your name on one of those tombstones, but Henry’s… I can’t live with myself, knowing that he’s trapped down here when there was another way to make sure you’re all safe. Henry’s safety has to be non-negotiable.” Killian looks around for support, desperate for any backup.

He finds it in an unexpected place. “He’s right, Emma,” Snow, the queen of hope herself, says softly. “We don’t have a plan for getting out of here, not really, and we definitely don’t have a way to remove our names from the headstones. This would solve both. I know you don’t want to leave Killian behind - none of us do, sweetheart. But you have to think of Henry, and the baby, and what’s best for them.”

“If we accept this, though… we give up our chance to save Killian,” Emma whispers, tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes and starting to slip down her cheeks. Killian can’t help but reach out to catch those tears; it’d be working against every instinct he possesses to deny that impulse to try and ease her pain.

“Actually,” Belle cuts in, “that might not be strictly true.” All eyes turn her direction, by turns curious and hopeful. “Henry and I think we found another way. I don’t want to say anything with Hades right over there but… we think there’s another way.”

“And it’s doable in that 2 hour window?” Robin asks.

“I believe so.”

“There’s really no question then, my love,” Killian says, just for Emma. Privately, he’s less hopeful about this last chance, but he can’t say that now, when his love is looking for any excuse to refuse the bargain. “Accept Hades’ deal. It’ll all work out, somehow.”

“I love you,” she says with a wobbly smile.

“And I you, my Swan.”

It feels like one of the ridiculous sports games Dave once forced him to watch as they uncluster from their tight huddle again. If not for the circumstances, it might almost make Killian laugh. But the circumstances are what they are, and it’s impossible to really embrace the humor when they’re about to possibly go bargain his resurrection away.

“So if we give you the stupid Crystal, you’ll let us go?” Emma demands, grasping Killian’s hand and refusing to let go. “Names cleared, one portal, no loopholes?”

“No loopholes,” Hades promises. The bastard even has the gall to look insulted at the implication he’d play anything but fair. “I’m a deity of my word, you know. I’ll even toss in a couple extra minutes to say goodbye, free of charge, just so the expiration lands on a nice neat quarter hour. Give me the Crystal, and the portal will open at 8:15pm.”

Emma still hesitates. Killian can understand that; even if they both know what must happen, putting that officially into motion is still hard. He squeezes her hand - in solidarity, in encouragement, in love, in everything else, and with a final nod, Emma finally takes the plunge.

“We’ll take your deal, then.”

“Excellent,” Hades grins, even such a happy gesture dripping with ooze on him. “I’ll take my prize, then.”

After a last pause, Emma reluctantly hands the Crystal over. In Hades’ hands, it briefly glows as if suddenly activated before becoming just a hunk of rock again. Killian tries to comfort himself with the fact that maybe that glow means they wouldn’t have been able to use the Crystal after all, even if it was still in their possession; it doesn’t work very well. The god waves his other hand in an almost dismissive gesture once he has the crystal, and what feels like a ripple of power chases through the room. That must have been him removing the headstones; Killian sure hopes so, otherwise they’re all doubly screwed.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” quips Hades. “Your portal will open an hour before in the cemetery and close at 8:15 on the dot, no transfers, no take backs, only one small carry-on allowed, take only pictures, leave only footprints, yada yada yada. Have a nice life.” And with another hand gesture, he disappears in a puff of red-tinged smoke.

“Well that was excessive,” Regina comments dryly. That might be the understatement of the year. “Now, Henry, what did you and Belle discover?”

“We think we figured out where the ambrosia bush is!” Henry bursts out, the excitement of his accomplishment practically seeping from his pores.

“Well done, lad!” congratulates Killian, slinging an affectionate arm around his boy’s shoulders.

“Not to be the skeptical one here, because I really do hope you have, but what makes you think you’ve discovered the ambrosia bush, Henry?” Robin asks. He truly doesn’t mean it as a criticism, Killian knows; Robin is just a practical sort, a man who likes having a plan before he rushes into a situation, unlike so many of these other heroes Killian’s thrown his lot in with.

Belle smiles though, as if to reassure Robin that no offense has been taken. “Well, we started thinking about all the places here in the Underworld and back in Storybrooke that are really significant. Like how Hades’ lair and the River of Souls are beneath the library. There were places we ruled out easily, like the diner or the well or Regina’s crypt, but then —”

“The mines!” Henry interrupts, before apologizing sheepishly to Belle. “We just thought… you know, the fairy dust comes from the mines. That’s, like, one of the town’s sources of magic. So we got to thinking… what if they’re hiding some other natural magic?”

“There are some curious stories about the mines,” Liam adds thoughtfully. “People have been known to go in and not come back out. It stands to reason.”

“We looked at the maps, and found a dead-end tunnel,” Belle continues. “There was also a mention in one of the books about some odd mechanisms in one of the tunnels. We think perhaps it’s some sort of door.”

“Perhaps to a secret, fabled plant,” Killian finishes. “Brilliant, lass.” It’s a long shot, certainly, but it’s also the best lead they have - especially when they’ve got a two hour time limit and no other options.

“Okay, so Killian and I will go see about the ambrosia, while the rest of you collect our things. And, you know, the baby and Zelena. We’ll meet you in the cemetery.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Emma’s father asks. “You two going off on your own like that?”

“Maybe it’s not, but someone needs to keep an eye on Henry, and I remember how tightly you stuffed those backpacks when we came down in the first place. We’ll be fine,” Emma replies.

“Are you sure?” Snow cuts in. “Your father or I would be happy to come with you —”

“It’s fine, Mom. Seriously, we’ll meet you by Regina’s crypt when we’re done.”

Somehow, she manages to convince Snow to leave and follow Regina and Robin out. Before Henry trails along after, Killian pulls him into a tight embrace.

“I’m proud of you, my boy,” he whispers into Henry’s hair. Gods willing, the ambrosia will be exactly where Henry and Belle think it is, will be the answer to all their prayers, but Killian’s not taking any chances. If worst comes to worst, and this is the last time he sees Henry, Killian wants to imprint every detail into his very soul.

“Thanks,” Henry mumbles back, before pulling back with determination glinting in his eyes. “It’s going to work, you know. It has to.”

“Ah, well of course it will if the Truest Believer decrees it so,” Killian smiles back, forcing all of his worry down to give Henry this moment. “Now, why don’t you go ask that brother of mine about the time he sent us all chasing after a sea monster?”

Henry happily leaps off to catch up to where Liam waits at the door. Catching his brother’s eye, they exchange nods. Liam will keep an eye on the lad, make sure he doesn’t run off into any foolhardy side quests.

“A sea monster?” Emma asks at his side, her tone somewhere between confusion and amusement.

“A particularly clever dolphin, as it turns out,” he explains. “At the time Liam was absolutely convinced we had discovered some mystical new creature. Blatantly abused his new power as captain to go chasing the bloody thing. You didn’t want your parents’ assistance?” he volleys back.

“I mostly wasn’t in the mood for some dramatic hope speech,” Emma admits. “Or Dad trying to, like, fight the door. Or something. I love them, but if time is of the essence or whatever you’d say…”

“I understand completely,” Killian chuckles. “We’ve always made a good team, you and I.” And they have - right from the beginning, even before the romance and the second chances and the deep, undying love, they’d always worked more effectively together than any other way. It should have been a sign, right there back on the beanstalk; Killian is only glad he embraced it before it was too late.

The trek from the library to the mine entrance is quicker than Killian expected, just down to the end of Main Street before walking down a wooded path. It’s probably overreacting to try and help Emma over and around every minor obstacle in their way - roots and stones and the like - but he does anyways, trying to infuse his love and concerned affection into every touch. If the way Emma smiles even as she rolls her eyes is any indication, she knows that already, has accepted it. Now is the time to hover, anyways; as much as Killian tries not to think about how these could be their last minutes together, it proves impossible to entirely banish that pesky little whispering voice from his head. Instead, he caters to the voice by trying to memorize every little detail of her hands - the little spots of dry skin between her fingers and the half-formed calluses where her fingers and palm meet and the odd little scar further down her palm that he knows is from a childhood tumble on rough gravel, not to mention the very specific way she likes to weave their fingers together (her pinky on the outside, always on the outside, or she’ll untangle them just to rearrange them the way she likes). He loves every part of her - every silly little detail that seems so frivolous and unimportant to anyone else but is everything to him.

(She’s everything to him. Gods, he hopes this works, because he’s tried an afterlife without her already and could barely stand it. He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if this doesn’t work.)

The mines themselves are a dark series of tunnels carved into what must have been an existing cave that mostly remind Killian of why he’s glad to be a man of the seas. Even with the electrical switch flipped to switch on a rickety, buzzing series of bulbs, the atmosphere is cloying and claustrophobic, every surface rough from where the tunnels were hewn directly from the stone.

“Careful, love,” he cautions, carefully making his way down ahead of her to test for uneven ground.

Her returning eye roll is less affectionate this time. “I’ve been down to the mines before, Killian,” she reminds him. “Remember how I slayed a dragon? I’m fine.”

The words are rather undermined by a subsequent stumble, making Killian huff in fond exasperation. Bloody stubborn woman. At least it’s an excuse to draw Emma in close against his side - for safekeeping and for comfort.

“I don’t know how you think you’ll be able to handle the map like this,” she grumbles as Killian’s fingers begin stroking gently along her side, just in that place between her bony hip and the soft curve of the Bean.

“Simple. I’ll let you hold it instead,” he replies, only half jokingly. Time is of the essence, but handling the map seems like such a waste when he could be imprinting the feel of her skin between every ridge of his fingertips.

“Smartass,” she mutters with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

It’s the easiest thing in the world, even facing such a terrifying uncertainty, to drop a soft kiss on the side of Emma’s head. “And you love me for it.”

“I do,” she sighs dramatically, before stretching to kiss the back ridge of his jaw in turn. It’s always been one of her favorite spots when it’s just the two of them. Killian pulls Emma even closer against his side as she does so, closing his eyes to better savor the moment.

(It’s not the last, it’s not the last, it can’t possibly be the last… but what if it is? What if he’s forced to live off the memory of her soft lips against the corner of his jaw for the rest of eternity?)

The darkness and close quarters of the mine become no less cloying the deeper they travel, and Killian finds himself clinging to Emma not just for her own safety, but to impart a sense of security to himself as well. In the cave-like environment, the only constants are her warmth against his side and the rocky path they walk along continuously sloping downwards. The map proves to be a blessing as tunnels split again and again, creating a confusion of passageways they’d never have been able to navigate without Henry and Belle’s careful charting. Eventually, the bulbs run out when they get too deep into the maze of the mine, replaced instead by torches, somewhat reminiscent of his and Emma’s little adventure to the past and to Regina’s dungeons. By some miracle, Killian finds a bar matchbook in one of his jacket’s pockets, keeping Emma from having to use her magic. She’s grown more confident again in its use, and more convinced the worst of her exhaustion spells are over, but Killian is decidedly less persuaded. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his love and the Bean all the way down here. Emma may roll her eyes at the way he frantically starts patting at pockets until he finds the matches, but it really does make him feel better about the situation. Once one is lit, it’s just a matter of continuing to light wall torches along the rest of their way as necessary until they reach the end of their journey through the mines.

Their path finally leads to an elevator, of all things. The walls are even closer down here, barely excavated, and as they squeeze past a last outcropping before the chamber widens for the elevator doors, it’s easy for Killian to understand how this isn’t common knowledge. It’s not something anyone would stumble across on accident by any means. Curiously, he notes that the elevator itself looks an awful lot like the one in the library, both down here and up above in the real world. It’s obvious that contrary to appearances, there is some greater design to this place, even if just in the initial structure.

Killian has some mild concern about the stability of the car, but when he cautiously steps a foot in and allows his weight to shift onto the metal platform, it holds without issue, barely shifting at his weight. Reassured as to the safety of the conveyance, he can finally reach back for Emma. “Milady?” he offers with a smile as he extends a hand back in her direction. It’s such a small thing, but so worth it for the laugh Emma emits as she grasps his hand and boards the elevator car. He’ll do anything to hear that laugh.

“I hope you know how to work this thing,” she jokes, “because I sure as hell don’t.”

It’s easy enough to operate, as things turn out. Though there is a hand crank attached to one wall, the car begins its descent as soon as the cage gate is closed, eliminating the need for any effort on their part. That’s a relief, frankly - Killian’s not sure how well he would have been able to turn the crank with just his one hand, and allowing Emma to do it herself is far out of the question, at least if Killian has any say in it. It feels like the ride downwards takes forever, despite the surprisingly rapid speed, but they pass it in silence, Killian choosing to express himself in the soft rub of his thumb against the back of Emma’s hand as they descend rather than with words.

It’s damn near impossible to see more than a foot beyond their faces when the elevator opens, even with the torch held aloft, but as he and Emma begin lighting the other torches conveniently spread along the walls, he’s pleased to discover that they’re in a wide open space. The persistent feeling of dread still niggles within his empty chest, but the greater space at least helps abate the feeling that the entire world is collapsing in on him, ready to crush him and Emma deep within the earth. A massive set of doors dominates one side of the doors, covered

with intricate metalwork; the lack of evident hinges would suggest that the portal opens inwards, away from the chamber they currently inhabit, but when Killian experimentally presses against the panels, he’s met with resistance. From the feel of things, the door is barred from the opposite side. He shouldn’t be surprised, really; if the contents of the inner chamber are as powerful as they’re rumored to be, a plant with the power to restore life back to the dead,  it would stand to reason that there would be some challenge or test to acquire it.

Perhaps that’s where the other device in the room comes in - a set of scales upon a circular table, this one with words in a foreign script encircling the edge.

“Of course it can’t be in plain English,” Emma mutters, frowning ferociously at the inscription. When Killian gets closer though, something triggers in his head - half-remembered lessons from long ago.

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass,” he recites, the translation springing to his tongue more quickly than he anticipated.

“You can read… whatever that is?” Emma asks, raising a questioning eyebrow. He’s always liked to think she picked that up from him.

“Ancient Greek,” he clarifies. “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy.”

“Show-off,” she teases back affectionately. He hadn’t translated the words just to impress her, but as with everything in his life - afterlife? once, always, forever - it’s a lovely little side effect, the way her eyes widen in surprise and appreciation and she smiles like she’s proud of him. He loves that smile; he’d do a lot of things to see that smile. “Ok, well if that’s the case…” she trails off, before shaking out her hands and exhaling a heavy breath. He’s seen that body language before; it usually means she’s trying to ramp herself up to perform some massive feat of magic.

“Hold on a moment, love, what exactly are you doing?” he asks as gently as he can, attempting to disguise the naked alarm in his voice.

Emma just looks at him oddly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Honestly, darling, I’m not at all sure. Humor a man.”

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass. We need a heart. So, you know,” she waves a hand around, “I’ve got to extract mine real quick.”

“Absolutely not,” Killian protests. With the baby at stake, and Emma’s own exhaustion… absolutely not. There’s no way in hell he’ll allow it, no pun intended.

Emma just rolls her eyes in response. In other circumstances, Killian might find the gesture a little endearing in how quintessentially her it is, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Ok, well, what’s your idea, then? Because last I checked, you don’t have one right now.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just… reach in your chest and yank your own out!” he fires back. “There’s got to be another way.”

“What, with —” Emma checks the watch on her wrist, “sixty-five minutes left?” She fixes Killian with a pointed look, a what’s your brilliant idea, genius? look, until Killian finally sighs out his defeat. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I still don’t like it, Emma,” he replies more quietly. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way any further than I already have, not to mention the babe. And I don’t...” He pauses, trying to collect all his worried thoughts into something resembling sense. “I believe we’re true love, and I certainly hope we are, but we can’t know that, Emma. What happens if we’re wrong? How do you know that this won’t all blow up in our faces?”

“I don’t,” she replies simply. “I just have to have faith that it will be fine,” Emma explains, turning to face Killian and grasping his hand. “See?” And without any further ado, she plunges her other hand into her own chest, wincing slightly as her hand disappears to the wrist. It’s all of Killian’s worst nightmares come to life, watching the woman he loves wince in pain as her heart is dislodged from its home beneath her breastbone. Even if he knows, consciously, that Emma’s in no real peril, that she’s removing such a vital organ herself, it brings back horrible memories of Milah’s death and sends panic rippling through his veins. Desperately, Killian tries to remind himself of the gentleness with which she held his own heart after the debacle with Gold and the Spell of Shattered Sight; surely, she’d treat her own heart with the same gentleness she’d granted his.

(Then again, she did also all but slam his heart back into his chest immediately afterwards. ‘Like a bandaid’, his arse; he’s still positive that the gesture was Emma’s own little revenge for all the worry he put her through, not that he can argue if it’s true.)

Emma seems blissfully unaware of the way the ghost of his heart has climbed into Killian’s throat, extracting her hand again with her jewel-red organ beating within her grasp. “See? Fine.”

He has to give her that, honestly; Emma isn’t even winded, and as nervous as it makes Killian to see his love’s heart outside of where it belongs in her chest, he has to say that it’s beautiful. Unlike his own heart, streaked through with dark wisps of all the terrible things he’s done in his long life, Emma’s is a brilliant crimson, mesmerizing to watch. He can just see the way it gently pulses within her palm, visibly calmer than anything he can muster at the moment.

Emma must notice the fascination with which he watches the beating muscle within her hands, as she holds her heart out to him. What symbolism. “Here, you take it,” she offers, practically shocking Killian out of his boots.

“Oh no, I couldn’t —” he tries to protest, but Emma’s always been a stubborn one, and before he knows it she’s grabbing his hand and tipping the pumping muscle into it. He cradles it against his chest on instinct, making sure to keep his hook arm far, far away; the last thing they need is for him to accidentally nick her heart as he tries to hold it. It’s precious, after all, and so small and fragile; as Killian cradles the organ to his body, there’s a passing, hysterical thought that if he actually makes it out of the Underworld, this kind of careful handling might be good practice for the Bean. He’s sure there’s panic in his eyes as he meets Emma’s gaze, but she just smiles back as if to calm him back down.

“I trust you,” she says simply, as if they’re not the biggest words in the world. Sure, he’s known on a certain level that she does indeed trust him, between the Wicked Witch and Camelot and I’m going to choose to see the best in you, but it’s another thing to hear the words. She loves him, too, and the thought of that alone is enough to make Killian giddy, but love and trust are so often wildly different things, especially where his love is concerned; it leaves him a little bit in awe, knowing that he’s somehow earned it.

Maybe he’s overthinking things, though, as Emma just stands there expectantly as he’s bowled over by emotion. “You gonna put it on the scales?” she asks, jolting Killian into motion.

“As you wish.” He hadn’t known the significance of those words when he’d first told her that what feels like an eternity ago in Neverland, but after several movie nights in those blissful six weeks of peace, he does now. Now, when he says the words, he means them most emphatically: I love you, I love you, I love you. She knows it, too, if the way she smiles just that little bit wider as he passes is any indication. That’s just as it should be; his Swan deserves to hear every iteration of those words, every day.

At the scales themselves, he tips her heart onto the unweighted side ever so carefully before standing back to watch and wait - for what, he’s not sure. For the doors to open, he supposes. It all seems so simple, though, and as the doors stay stubbornly closed, Killian wonders if this is the other shoe dropping, or if that’s yet to come.

Emma’s brows furrow in confusion. Killian can just see on her face that she’s already decided it’s impossible their love isn’t true, even as his own stomach plummets with the proof in front of them. “What the hell?” she mutters, stepping back towards the scales herself.

And that’s when it all really goes to hell.

Emma’s barely taken a step when she suddenly cries out in pain, hunching over and clutching at her chest as she gasps desperately for breath.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” he asks helplessly. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Love, tell me.” She’s obviously not alright, and they’re such stupid words, but they’re all he can come up with in the moment, too worried to pay much attention to sense.

“My… heart…” she manages to gasp out, reaching for the organ only to cry out again, seemingly struck by another attack.

Even in his panic, it’s easy enough to connect the dots that the scale is somehow doing this to Emma, putting her in indescribably pain - Gods, maybe even killing her if he doesn’t do something right this moment. He doesn’t think twice before moving to snatch her heart back to the relative safety of his grasp - Emma, at least, seems to think it’s safe there, even if Killian is less sure of that. He’s hasn’t even finished taking his first step in that direction, however, when he’s stopped by a column of fire, the flames surrounding him and trapping him within their hold. If he feels the flames on his extremities, it’s easily dwarfed by the burning pain that feel like it’s engulfing him from the inside, eating into his soul and heart and everything that makes him him. He should be strong, suffer through it so Emma doesn’t have to add concern for him onto her own pain, but he can’t help the cry that slips out.

“Killian!” she gasps, her eyes widening with an even greater panic than before.

“Get your heart, Emma,” he pleads. There’s something in those same eyes that makes him think she’ll do something drastic to save him at her own expense, and that just can’t stand. She may not think so, but he’s the expendable one here - it’s crucial that she live, that their babe live, even if he’s charred to a crisp right here where he stands. “Emma, get your heart! Your heart!”

He can see her shifting her gaze back and forth between the scales and himself, even as the flames leap higher and send another burst of unbearable pain through his entire being. Killian preoccupies himself praying to any god that will take pity on him that Emma will dive for her heart, save herself. It’s just two steps; at this point, he doesn’t even care if they never open the doors and reach the fabled ambrosia, as long as Emma’s okay. That’s all that matters - all that’s ever mattered, and if she’ll just take those steps, it’ll all be okay —

Instead, another body plows into him, knocking them both over. By some miracle, Killian manages to cushion her fall with his entire body. He could just shake her for choosing him over herself, his stubborn lass, but somehow the fact remains that the flames have disappeared and Emma’s chest only heaves with the exertion, not a slow suffocation.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks again, holding her tight to his body with his hooked arm as his hand combs gently through her hair.

“I’m okay. What about you?”

He laughs a little at that, Emma’s inability to focus on the danger she herself was in for her worry over him. “Aye, love, I’m alright. I’m just fine.” Killian takes a moment just to smile at her, awed by everything she is, before he turns more serious. “You saved me.” He shouldn’t be surprised by that really; she’s been saving him in every conceivable way, ever since that very first moment when she pulled him from beneath a pile of corpses and showed him there were still things in the world worth believing in. Still, the knowledge that she saved him, the unworthy pirate, continues to take his breath away.

“Of course I did,” Emma replies, her voice mildly chiding even as he can see her eyes sweep over his face as if she’s reassuring herself that he’s there.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” she reminds him. “I love you.” Simple as that. Like that’s all the explanation needed, and maybe it is.

“And I you,” he echoes, the truth pulled from deep within his soul. “More than I’ll ever have the words to express.” As he draws her into a gentle kiss, something to reassure them both that they’re both still here, still fighting, they almost miss the heavy noise of the doors opening.

Almost.

Emma twists her head to the sign at the sound. “Was that…” she trails off, like she’s afraid to jinx it.

“Aye,” Killian breathes out in response. The proof is right in front of them, after all, the doors having opened to reveal a curved hallway already lit by torches.

“But how…”

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass,” Killian recites back. The meaning of those words is only now starting to really sink in; the doors opened for them, so that means they’re true love, something he hadn’t even dared dream might be true. It nearly brings tears to his eyes, and he can’t help but let the awe leak into his voice. “You did it, love.”

“I guess so,” she agrees, still staring at the door in mild bewilderment. “But… how?”

“You chose me. That was the test.” Killian is kind of reasoning through it as he speaks, but that has to be it. That’s what makes sense. “You could have gone for your heart - should have, probably, but… you chose me. You chose me.” The words will never stop amazing him. Gods, true love.

Emma’s smile is a tender as he’s ever seen it as she strokes along his cheek. “Of course I did, babe,” she says once again. “There was never any question. We’re a team, remember? You and me. Giving up or leaving you like that was never an option.”

Killian sits up suddenly, unable to wait any longer to kiss Emma, his love, his true love. There’s a sweetness to the way their lips meet that’s almost reminiscent of the kiss that started this all, out on Granny’s patio after their time travel adventure. There’s no time to deepen it and turn this into a longer or more passionate encounter - not that this is the place for it, anyways, here on the dusty and rocky floor - but it had just proved impossible not to seal this moment with a kiss.

When they finally separate again, it’s only to rest their foreheads together, still breathing in the same air. Unfortunately, there’s no more time to spare. “Are you ready, my love?” He asks, still somewhat breathless.

“Anything with you,” Emma promises right back, gripping onto his lapels for just a moment longer before they both move to stand up.

It’s hard not to set off down the hewn passageway with something approaching giddiness when Emma’s hand is enveloped within his own and a hope he had almost given up on bouncing around in his still-stopped heart. No matter how many times he’d sworn not to get his hopes up, tried to remind himself this was likely the end of everything, he can’t help it. They’re true love, a fact that bears repeating over and over again. their child will be another product of true love, and it nearly makes him giggle like a child to think about how he or she will be a baby born of true love to a mother that’s herself born of her parents true love. It’s the most delightful and ridiculous statement he’s ever contemplated.

All that hope and wonder, unfortunately, only makes the great fall all the harsher when they both turn the corner to see nothing but an obviously dead bush.

“No,” Emma whispers, her voice the auditory equivalent of whatever this sinking feeling in Killian’s stomach is. “No, there must be something.”

There’s not, though. The bush is just a gnarled mess of branches, no leaves, no flowers, no fruit, even if it’s surrounded by a prettier little golden fence than Killian’s seen in even the most ornate palace gardens. No, the ambrosia plant is clearly, unmistakably dead.

His Emma is a stubborn one, though, and has some of her mother’s unshakable hope - even if she doesn’t like admitting to it. She’s already pulled away from Killian, releasing his hand to stride over to the plant and start rooting around the edges of its soil bed, looking for Gods-only-know-what.

“There’s got to be something left,” she mutters, not quite under her breath in her desperation as she frantically searches. “Leaves or seeds or… something. Why aren’t you looking?” she demands abruptly, that panic back in her eyes again.

“There’s nothing to find, love,” Killian tries to tell her gently, even as his own heart is breaking. This is it; this is how their great search ends.

“Ok, well, if there’s nothing on this plant, there’s got to be another one, right?” she asks, more of that frenzy creeping into her voice as she stands back up and brushes her soil-covered hands off on her jeans. “There’s another plant, we’ve just got to find it.”

“Where, love?” he all but begs, voice breaking on the endearment. “Look around you. There’s nowhere else another ambrosia bush would be hiding.” That much is painfully obvious to him. The chamber surrounding the bush, their last great hope, is perfectly circular and perfectly stone and gravel, the only other organic matter the dried straw fueling the ensorcelled torches. It’s only by a feat of magic, he’s sure, that the perfect circle of soil exists for the plant in the first place; there’s simply no other spot in the cavern that could support life. Emma may look all she likes, but as much as Killian wishes otherwise, she’ll never find anything. It’s just not possible.

Emma huffs in frustration, but it’s so easy for him to see the panic underneath it, especially with the way her eyes dart back and forth as if searching for another answer. “Ok, then, we try the heart split again. Now that my name isn’t on one of those fucking headstones anymore, there shouldn’t be a problem. It could still work.” Even as her hand starts moving towards her chest in a motion Killian hopes never to see again in his life - or afterlife, as it were - she sounds doubtful. And for good reason, too.

“No, love, it won’t,” he says as gently as he can.

“Why the hell not? It worked for my parents. You’ve seen David, he’s totally fine. We didn’t even know anything during the whole Wicked Witch debacle until they got their memories back.”

“Yes, but your father was dead for… not even two minutes. Barely longer than the time it took to split your mother’s heart. It’s been months since I died, love, almost four of them,” Killian reminds her, sending his own dead heart plummeting into his boots in the process.

“There’s a preservation spell over your body, though,” she argues right back, picking up momentum. “It’s not like you’re… rotting away, or something.” The very idea of that is enough to make both of them wince.

“That doesn’t mean anything, unfortunately. You and I have both read the storybook, love; we’ve both seen what happened to Regina’s love, how poorly that turned out. He almost hurt Henry, and I won’t put any of you in danger, especially not from my hand. I won’t, love.”

“But we’re true love,” she insists. “Shouldn’t that make all the difference?”

Before Killian can even contemplate his response, the chamber around them starts rumbling, bits of sediment and small pebbles dislodging and raining down on both their heads. Hades must have opened the portal; the disturbance is too similar to what happened when Zelena arrived in the underworld for it to be anything else. The force up above shakes this whole realm to its very foundations, and Killian’s suddenly even more desperate to get Emma as far away from all this as possible - preferably out of this accursed in-between world all together. It’ll break his heart to say goodbye, but her safety, and that of Henry and the baby, is more important than any pain he might be feeling.

“We’ve got to get out of here, back to the surface, love,” he urges, half a plan forming in his mind as he ushers her reluctantly back towards the stone hallway. If he can just get her to the elevator… “It’s not safe.”

Emma casts a look back around the empty, dead chamber, but there’s no denying that he’s right, as larger chunks of stone start dislodging from the ceiling and tumbling down.

The shaking had settled somewhat by the time they reach the elevator, but Killian still hurries Emma on board. There’s not much time left, after all - a few minutes less than an hour, if his timepiece is correct - and Emma will need every second she can get to make her way back through the tunnels, up to the surface, and over to the cemetery before the portal closes. Emma thankfully goes without complaint, even leading at turns, sensing the urgency of this all.

That is, she goes without complaint until Killian steps back off the metal conveyance.

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion at that. “What are you doing, babe? You said it yourself, we’ve got to go. No time to dawdle, or however you’d phrase it.” The corners of her lips even twitch upwards for moment; she clearly has no idea what he’s planning to do, and it sends another stab of guilt through his body.

Killian swallows heavily in a last effort to muster the courage to follow through on this. “I’m not coming with you, love,” he reveals softly, sadly.

That brings the frown back to her face and the panic back to her eyes. “No, that’s not right,” she argues. “You said —”

“I know what I said darling, that we were both getting out of here, but I lied.” He shakes his head in shame. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d never do that to you, but I had to get you out of that chamber somehow. You’ve got to get to that portal.”

“Not without you,” she declares, stepping back towards Killian with fire in her eyes. There’s tears forming there too, though. “There’s still time, we can still figure something out—”

“No, we can’t. We’ve tried everything, love. This was our last last chance. And if we have to say goodbye… well, I’d rather it was down here, just the two of us. More privacy,” he tries to joke. It doesn’t work.

“But I’m not ready,” Emma pleads. “It’s not enough time.”

“It’s more time than you and I were ever meant to have,” he reminds her. “And I’m so grateful for that. If you hadn’t come down to try and rescue me, I would have never known about our child. I would have never seen you again. Even if your efforts didn’t work to resurrect me, how can I regret a single moment of that borrowed time? Even if we have to part?”

“But I want you there. I want you to meet the baby, and be a father to Henry, and grow old with me.”

“That’s just not in the cards for us, my love,” he replies, voice breaking in the middle. Damn it all, he’s crying too, and he was supposed to hold himself together to try and make this easier. “But I have faith that you and Henry will remember me, and tell our son or daughter all about their father. Especially how much I’ve loved them, from the moment I knew they existed.”

Emma nods, ducking her head for a moment as if to collect herself. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” she admits.

“Then don’t,” he suggests. “This won’t be forever, just for now. Just for the moment.” A very long now and a very long moment, without any guarantee that he’s done enough to await Emma in a better place, he doesn’t say. “Promise me, though, that you won’t let my death keep you from a happy ending. You’ve still got so much life ahead of you, love. Let yourself be happy in it. I’ve been so proud to see you break down some of your walls; don’t build them back up just because I’m gone. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” she vows with tears in her eyes. “But you have to swear to me that you’ll move on with Liam, that you won’t wait here for me. Don’t let us be your unfinished business.”

“I promise.” He’s not sure it’s one he can keep, but he’ll try his very best.

There’s no more excuses to wait any longer, and Killian carefully helps Emma back into the elevator, reaching up for the gate. Emma stops him before he can close it though, reaching through the bars to frame his face with both her hands.

“I love you, Killian Jones,” she declares, one last time, with tears streaming down her face.

“And I love you, my Swan.”

Their final kiss is slow and gentle, a kiss meant to soak into his very bones and linger with him for all the many years to come. Killian makes sure to stroke along her cheek and through her hair, hoping to engrain the sensations into his brain so he may never forget. This is their one last time, their final goodbye, and it seems crucial that he catalog every moment.

All too soon, the kiss has so end, though, and with one last moment spend resting his forehead against her own, he draws the gate to clang shut. The elevator car lurches to life as soon as he does, slowly making its way upwards, and Killian quickly moves to tangle his fingers with Emma’s own. He doesn’t intend to let go until he absolutely has to. Seeing Emma shake with quiet sobs as the car pulls away, he moves on instinct, drawing her hand to his mouth for a kiss - one, two, three times before she’s carried out of his reach, in a last ditch effort to show his love exactly how precious she is.

And then she’s gone, leaving Killian to his misery at the bottom of the mine.

———

Liam comes to collect him some indeterminate amount of time later, after the shaking finally subsides.

It doesn’t matter though. Nothing does anymore.

She’s gone.

[utopianparadoxist]

soooo, with the new aspects descriptions and the traits they are focusing on and putting in the spotlight as major defining traits of those aspects, do you think you'll reconsider Joey as Life now instead of Light? (and Jude as Light instead?)

I hadn’t really gotten to Jude yet at all–he still seems like a Doom player, but now I’m more uncertain about all of them.

I have been reconsidering Joey as a Life player pretty heartily, actually, BUT…I think in the end, at least so far, it’s only left me more sure she’s a Light player. 

But the reason why, I think, suggests some new infomation relevant to how the Classpect system works. I’m curious to know what you’ll think about it! And since I’m about to record this in video form and it’s pretty overwhelming and difficult to talk about, I think it’ll help to get my thoughts in order somewhat, so I think I’ll do some prep here. 

My logic goes something like this: 

Xefros is a Rage player. Looking back at Act 1, it’s actually all there in his Page behavior! While Xefros himself isn’t angry or upset, he does continually frustrate, anger, and confuse Joey, essentially giving/serving her Rage (in my reading of Knights/Pages, of course).What’s more, eventually Joey’s anger stops being directed at Xefros and starts being directed at Dammek and Alternia at large, on Xefros’ behalf.

In this reading, we can understand Dammek keeping Xefros away from the sopor slime as “training” to be a form of serving him Rage, too–the Sopor Slime just keeps trolls away from the chucklevoodos, and the chucklevoodos have already been equated to Rage before. Xefros has been given Rage, to his own benefit.

I had figured that, if Xefros was a Page of Time, he’d eventually gain a Warrior to defend/fight for him through his communion powers–Xultan filled the niche perfectly. Seemed like a solid way to get Xefros to a Brain Ghost Dirk-type power boost or whatever. But Joey is ALREADY one of Xefros’ champions at the end of Act 1, and Xefros got her there mainly through Rage. Pretty solid echo of how Jake won over Dirk initially, or how Tavros won over Vriska/Aradia/Terezi (obviously, all of these to varying degrees of success).

So yeah, Xefros as a Page of Rage checks out. One critical difference, though: Jake and Tavros were already inclined to think in terms of Hope/Breath respectively at 13. While Xefros apparently has a considerable Ragey influence on Joey, he doesn’t seem to be thinking in Rage terms much himself. In Act 1, Xefros’ conscious THOUGHTS center around…

Time. It’s not just him, either–Dammek has some pretty hefty Breath implications, especially once you consider that the hoverpad he took from Xefros is essentially an object of detachment and flight. But we know Dammek is a Blood player, as opposed to Breath. 

The bottom line is, there’s just too much DRAMATICALLY CAPITALIZED TEXTUAL EVIDENCE linking Xefros to Time and Dammek to Breath to be outright ignored.  We don’t know either way with Joey, but she certainly thinks lot about both Life and Light, and one of them presumably has to be her actual Aspect.

The way I see it, there’s two possibilities at play at this point. It’s totally possible, of course, that all of that stuff was just misdirection, or just stuff we weren’t meant to take seriously or read into. 

But if that’s the case, I’m not sure the fandom can ever actually accurately deduce a character’s classpect based on canon clues. Xefros has some Rage behavior, but it wasn’t telegraphed nearly as strongly as the Time stuff.

So maaaybe WP doesn’t particularly care for this type of speculation? Maybe the Time stuff was just like, general writing, and we’re not really meant to dig into the lore here and try to pick out clues and Figure Shit Out, like I thought we were being invited to do?

That would suck for me, but I would accept it. Hiveswap still has a stellar narrative with plenty of background lore to dissect and explore, Classpect stuff to look through or no. I’d be cool with just waiting for the narrative to tell us what’s going on outright, too.

However, until we know for sure one way or the other what WP intends, I’d like to keep regarding the Classpects as a coherent system with rules that can be figured out and considered in assessing characters’ natures and potential character arcs.

And there’s still the other possibility:

Calliope told us player abilities can manifest “in defiance with their Aspects” under the right circumstances. We’ve seen this in Homestuck, most clearly with  Rose, which a lot of the fandom (you included, if I remember right?) has parsed under inversion theory.

I differ in that I parse it through Roleplay. It seemed to me that players attempting to act out a different Class, or being forced into acting as one, was always the source of these Aspect “shifts”. 

So Rose manifests Void not because Witch is Seer’s natural opposite, but because Rose is interested in Magicians and wizards and wants to take an Active role in Changing the fate of the session.

But I wasn’t sure if we were dealing with Aspect inversion, ie: the player simply switching to the opposing Aspect, or if the Aspect side of the system was even more flexible and players could focus on any other Aspect in the spectrum, too. 

This is the first clear indication I’ve seen for the latter interpretation.My current best guess for why Xefros has all this Time focus and Dammek has all this Breath focus is that the blood castes, on Alternia, are somewhat stereotyped in favor of their corresponding Aspects. 

There’s a cultural bias predisposing members of each Caste to think in terms of the Caste’s True Sign Aspect. This is why Xefros implies all Indigos are super strong, but Equius’ introduction says he’s strong because he’s kind of a freak. 

It’s why Goldbloods are the class used to power ships and the like, but Sollux is a mutant, and Vriska says psiionics are a nasty variant of power that goldbloods only “sometimes” have. I reason this based on the naming structure the system itself uses, as sleuthed out by @wakraya . 

And it sort of makes sense, given Lord English nor Doc Scratch would care to figure out the nuances of every individual troll–the founders of the hemospectrum as it exists on Alternia only had the profiles of the twelve trolls Gamzee and Equius knew to work with, while guiding society’s development of the Caste system.

And this is a fascist, exploitative system, so I would’ve found it odd if it was actually good for the characters to begin with, to be honest?

So if each Sign in a Caste is linked to a different Aspect, but the Caste as a whole is stereotypically connected with or pushed into conforming to one particular Aspect…

Then we’re looking at a world where a lucky few would have the social advantage of being told about their own latent potential through their Aspect (not that they couldn’t confuse themselves perfectly fine, if they were so inclined), but the great many were kept confused by stereotypes, and the contrast between their inner worlds and their own biological powers. 

This conflict would be different for everyone, and would become even worse factoring in the variety of roles further imposed by society–like Dammek and Xefros being forced into Butlering. 

The end result? A society where almost nobody is given the time and space to figure out who they truly are, and where almost everyone is playing against their strengths in some regard. As a bonus, almost everyone is stressed out, because they’re not allowed to do what would naturally make them happy. 

Sound like Alternia to you? It does to me. And fostering that kind of widespread societal confusion certainly sounds like something you’d want to do if you were Doc Scratch or the Empress. What better way to keep the threat of uprising at bay? 

As for how it relates to Joey, well–if Aspect roleplay is a thing, then Rose might well have gone grimdark at least partly in imitation of Roxy. And if A. Claire is indeed a mutant clone of Jane Crocker like I suspect, then suddenly Joey has a profound admiration for a Mom she desperately wants to be like.

Hilariously, that means her Maid behavior might be roleplay instead of her actual Class, so I might be debunking myself here! But I’m a little more inclined to think her admiration is manifesting as an interest in the Life aspect in general. 

The key thing for me here is that her interest in Life has a potential source, that we can put under scrutiny going forward. Her interest in Light has no such apparent source, other than her own nature. Hence why I’m still falling on Light as her innate Aspect, at least for now.

As for Jude–I don’t even know right now, there’s too much going on. I’ll have to revisit him once the dust settles and I have some answers I’m more confident about. He certainly seems like someone chosen to suffer in Act 1, though, man. Poor kid. 

I might be reading too much into it, but it seems like a pretty solid way to use Classpects to tell us about the violent and cruel nature of Alternian society. Whether I’m right or wrong about any of this, though, Act 2 is going to be very interesting. We stand to learn a lot!

[bruceeves]

News From the Spearhead Archives: Moving Forward

So there’s good news and there’s bad news. Let’s get the drama out of the way first. In early September a Facebook post came to our attention that highlighted unprofessional behaviour on the part of the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives (CLGA), the result of which seriously compromised the Club’s relationship with that organization. Here is the text of the brief Facebook exchange that was brought to our attention:

–how did you get that

–The people working said I could pick a few things, a friend of mine was holding the Toronto Spearhead pin, and I was like “I know this one!” And I took it home J

–are they just handing stuff out to people

–They are not, just had extra pins to give out

What’s problematic about this little exchange on Facebook is how the CLGA not only disregards all the accepted practices and protocols of archives, but seems to not to even grasp the philosophical reason that archives exist in the first place. Duplicate materials, indeed any materials, are never to be disposed of in any way, but rather are sent to parallel operations with the understanding that the threats of floods and fires and political repression are very real concerns. The more Archives there are collecting and sharing our stories lessens the danger posed by real life events beyond our control. When I learned of this I immediately lodged a complaint with the executive director of the CLGA Raegan Swanson, and sent carbon copies to three of the professional archivists who’d volunteered their time over many years.

My letter reads: “As the archivist for Spearhead – the oldest continuously active gay organization in the country (and publisher of the oldest continuously active publication in North America) I’ve been instructed by the board of directors to register a formal protest against some behaviour, seemingly condoned, by the Archives (with a Q).

“It has come to our attention that an archived object, donated by a Spearhead member in good faith, has been disposed of in an unethical manner. If the object in question duplicated something already in the collection it should, logically, have be donated to a parallel collection. As we understand the situation, this historical object was cavalierly handed off to a casual visitor. The disposal of material in such a manner is not only sloppy and unprofessional, but it calls into question your integrity. I recognize that deaccessioning is controversial, but this is a different matter – this action leaves your commitment to the stated institutional goals in tatters. This presents you – to us and to others – as an organization that is acting in bad faith.

“According to a long-term member of the board, hard copies of “Phalia” had been printed with the express intent of being sent to the Archives (with a Q) from the moment we transitioned to a digital format in 2007. This will have to remain the extent of our donations to the Archives (with a Q), for the time being.

“Unless there is a very credible explanation for the Archives egregious lapse in judgment, our relationship is irreparably damaged. We will be forced to caution our members, associates, associated organizations, and friends to reconsider their donation plans, both archival and other means.

“Where we stand now with the Spearhead Archives, one that spans a half-century, is that it is likely to leave the country because its integrity is in danger and you have lost our trust. Truly, Bruce Eves, Archivist.”

Ms. Swanson responded: “Good afternoon, Thank you for your email.

“Collections donated to the CLGA/The ArQuives are handled with great respect and we strive to be a safe home for all our collections.

“When donations are made, if duplicate material exists, we give all our donors two options. The first is that duplicate or unwanted material may be returned to the donor. The second option is that The ArQuives may dispose of the material appropriately at their discretion. If donors chose the second option, we will often use the duplicate material for education programming, community outreach, and exhibitions. As the public enjoys seeing and touching items like books, buttons, and other ephemera, the duplicates become an important outreach tool.

“We currently have many buttons such as the ones pictured in the Facebook post still in our collection and we have a policy of keeping at least 2 copies of every button. I have attached a copy of our Acquisition Policy as well as a Deed of Gift to this email for reference in to my response.

“Should you have any further questions on the matter or on any future donation, please feel free to contact me. Regards, Raegan Swanson.”

               This is nothing but bureaucratic bafflegab coming from an individual alienated from the community and operating as an outlier from the international Archives world of best practices and protocols. “We strive to” is a euphemism for “we really don’t know what we’re doing”, and that having a public that “enjoys seeing and touching items” from a collection of historical importance reduces it to little more than a petting zoo is trivializing in the extreme. But then according to my informants within the CLGA, not only is the entire paid staff all women, they’re all straight. How and why it came to pass that the stewardship of a highly specialized collection is placed in the hands of individuals with zero knowledge or vested interest is completely beyond me. Her barely concealed condescension is nothing if not insulting, and reinforces what my informants have reported being routinely referred to as “grumpy old men” – one can only presume because they in all likelihood have a slightly better grasp of gay history. But suffice it to say that if it wasn’t for us grumpy old men . . . (you’re free to fill in the rest of this sentence). Like the CBC’s “Anne with an E”, the rebranding as the “Archives with a Q” is both cutesy-poo and deeply reactionary. Every Archives professional that I’ve spoken to detests the name change. But more damaging by far is the new name’s deep evasiveness. Simply put, it sets us as a community back by at least a half century.

Immediately after this, on the morning of September 9 I dropped by the City of Toronto Archives on Spadina Road beneath the shadow of Casa Loma to seek information about material donations. This was my first visit to building, which was custom-built with state-of-art museum quality temperature and humidity controls, tight security, a professionally-trained staff, and stable guaranteed funding from the city in perpetuity. It’s important to point out that the Archives with a Q have none of this.

I was soon ushered into the office of the Supervisor of Collections Management and Standards, Michele Dale. I introduced myself as the archivist for Spearhead and gave her a brief history of the Club and Phalia, its fundraising activities, and the range of material that I would be interested in donating. She was curious why I was not approaching the CLGA. I relayed the above events and worries about their viability and credibility as an organization.

I became concerned for her safety when Ms. Dale’s jaw hit the floor. We both agreed that the CLGA name change was frivolous and confusing, and that their behaviour goes against all accepted archival practices and protocols.

Then she got out her note pad.

We had a ¾ of an hour meeting during which she took copious notes and declared herself eager to accept the bulk of the collection. All that the City of Toronto Archives would require from the Club to initiate the transfer of ownership is a copy of the minutes stating the membership’s approval. I told her that I would relay the information at the next board meeting in October and the next AGM in November to inform the membership. I stated that given that events are in the planning stages to celebrate our 50th anniversary this coming March I didn’t foresee transfer happening before at least next April. This was deemed par from the course.

As far as the duplicates we have housed with our collection, I would like to see them shared between the Leather Archives and Museum in Chicago (in which we already have some presence) and the Gay Archives housed in the Bishopsgate Institute in London (UK) which has extensive holdings from all of the Leather and Bike Clubs from Britain and the EU. Based on my own reading of our Club’s history there has been quite a bit of contact between Spearhead and the Brits and Americans over the years so the donations in that direction seem to me counterintuitive.

The final bit of news I’d like to report is I’ll be curating an exhibition of archival materials from the Club’s collection as part of the 50th anniversary weekend next March 13-15. It will take place at the 519 and our Director of Operations, Dwayne Shaw, was able to secure the fantastic glass room on the north side of the lobby for the exhibition! So we will have very high visibility indeed. I’m sending out a call now to help both install and strike the installation and act as security during the run of the exhibition. And you can be assured that nothing from the collection will be made available for the taking.                                                                                                                                                                     Bruce Eves October 21, 2019 (Published in Vol. 49 Issue 5 of Phalia)

[planner4therevolution-blog]

INTERVIEW WITH TRE TEMPERILLI

A couple of weeks ago I went to a party for a friend, by myself (gasp). As I stood at the bar courageously not looking at my phone, I was lucky enough to strike up a conversation with Tre Temperilli – Activist, Writer, and Organizer for the Hillary for America Campaign. It was a truly engaging chat that continued as we closed down Ye Rustic talking politics, musicals and how to get home in the fucking rain in LA. I asked Tre if he’d sit down with me for an interview and thankfully he obliged. Here is that conversation.

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P4R: Before we get rolling, cheers! (We clink our bottles of beer)

TT: Cheers! To the revolution… fuck it. Kind of.

Haha! Well I guess on the flipside of that, what is giving you hope right now?

Oh shit, that’s a big one! What gives me hope is actually, knowing that the challenge in this, is finding hope. I think back on what Michelle Obama said when she said what we’re experiencing, what we’re feeling now is hopelessness a hopelessness that many people throughout the world wake up to that perhaps many of us were immune to such as the depths of poverty or any kind of social construct that oppresses any marginalized community. So that’s been something that I’ve been thinking a lot about in my own personal story, because I’ve always been a hopeful person. So what it is to not have that hope? And I can honestly say, it’s not that I wake up with a sense of hopelessness, it’s kinda that sense of not knowing what to do, of how to participate always being clear, that inspires hope. Does that make sense? The picture is never so bleak that we can’t find the light. But finding that light, honestly is a pinhole right now and I understand that, I’m hearing this from so many friends. I know that you can’t give in to despair. I mean personally speaking I can’t give in to despair. I’ve given in totally to my anger and rage. Which has been sustaining me. But I also know I cannot survive off of that. It takes a toll; so then how do I turn that into something.  And this whole entire process gives me hope because it tells me that I’m a conscious being, I’m thinking, and I can see that pinhole of light, now how do we get to it and open it up?

I joined the campaign, Hillary for America and the Democratic Party of Wisconsin. I went into with that sense of urgency, that sense of hope and knowing that this darkness was coming. We knew and felt the threat on the horizon and we pleaded, begged, bargained for votes. So after that happening and the cataclysmic events on November 8th, 10:38pm CST that was the beginning, to me, of the end of a certain dream I had of our country, of America. And that hope that Obama spoke about about that leaders prior to Obama have spoken about and that I grew up with. Like the voices of Bella Abzug, Gloria Steinem, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Bobby Kennedy all these voices that instilled in me the spirit of what this fucking country could be. And I do believe Hillary Clinton had those values and again that’s why I picked up my life and went to Madison, WI for 3 months. Because I needed to see that through, I needed to see the promise of a fucking America. We were right there!

How would you describe your work with Hillary?

I was hired as a field organizer. I believe it was in August, yes. And basically what that entails is going in and working on the ground. Recruiting volunteers, getting out the vote, making LOTS of phone calls to recruit and also to remind people to early vote or to build events. It was non-stop 15 hr days 7 days a week and no time for a personal life. Like, nothing was ever not about the campaign. Except for the time I gave myself after work or early in the morning.

Had you been a campaign organizer before?

No. This was my first endeavor into the actual political landscape. I had been an activist prior to this, so I’ve done that type of activity and work.

Oh yeah, I should ask… what do you do? Like, besides organize and be a general badass?

What I do in life is I write. I track trends and I research and notate popular culture and what’s moving. Basically, I work in advertising. Hahaha! I was trying to make it sound better! Basically, it’s my job to make sure I sell the idea and do the pitch. And this obviously was the biggest pitch of my life. With the biggest deadline and that was to get Hillary Clinton elected. I went because, for me, there was no other alternative or choice. I knew I had to go.

What did a regular day of work look like? Were you set up like teams? How much anonymity, not anonymity…what word am I looking for…

Autonomy.

There you go. How much of that did you have?

First of all I could not have asked for a better place to go than Madison, WI because there are no civilians on the ground, EVERYbody is in tune with politics, EVERYbody has an opinion. Good, bad, indifferent it’s there. We had guidelines, teams, strict structure and a schedule. I had to create a structure for me because I was trying to, on top of my field organizing responsibilities, I was trying to create events that might appeal to the national campaign. So I would be up at 6:30 calling contacts in New York to say, here’s an idea, why don’t we do a huge Mother Daughter get out the vote event, trying to get that pushed up the ladder, writing proposals, I tried to get Moby to come to WI through contacts here, but I was there for 3 months and the time literally, it took me a month just to catch up with the campaign and with Madison politics. So there were teams on the ground already in place from Obama for America. So HFA and OFA came together. I refuse to fail so, I was recruiting people everywhere I would go. I would go out to dinner? I would recruit someone to volunteer.

I worked with someone within Russ Feingold’s campaign who was a Sanders supporter, he knew that I was able to discuss that platform in a reasonable manner. Not always reasonable because well my frustrations with the Sanders campaign are well documented and I don’t want to get too far of track. A lot of Sanders supporters would come into the office and we would have a one on one, that’s what we called them, and it was an honor truly to work with these people. They were some of the most dedicated volunteers that worked similar hours to our hours and never gave up, never quit and saw the responsibility in the vote. And that’s the message that I feel, that if we made a mistake, it was that we didn’t convey that message earnestly enough. But I’m pretty sure we did!

Well, 3 million more people than voted for the current president would agree. What do you say to people who blame Hillary herself (which I think is insane) or the Democratic Party for the loss? That is probably two very different things but let’s start there.

I say, fuck you. Quite honestly. I’m tired of hearing it. You missed the bigger picture we tried to tell you that this was the historical moment in which the democratic party was about to secure a third successive term. We have not experienced that in our lifetime. FDR, but I don’t think many of us were around for that. I was truly excited and inspired to see what that was going to look like. I think that a lot of people who only knew Barack Obama as their president were expecting the “hope and change” to happen instantaneously, even though he said consistently and constantly, it is a process and it takes all of us. So I’m very frustrated that people are just now coming to the table and suddenly feel that they know everything about policy and how it transpires and works. And that they’ve proceeded to buy into this ludicrous, ridiculous, supercilious message, of anti-establishment and status quo and fucking “revolution”. I have lost the taste for that word. It’s just like, I now call it #ourbrandrevolution because that’s exactly what it’s become. And it’s a danger. And it’s going to create problems in the midterms. If people are so immovable that they can’t understand that it takes consensus to move forward we are going to be fucked. Period.

To blame the loss on Hillary is to remove any responsibility one had in playing a part in getting Donald Trump elected. It’s as simple as that. People know in their fucking heart and soul that if they voted 3rd party or if they didn’t vote, that they’re complicit. Also mainstream media. Chuck Todd just went after Robby Mook today about this same thing and he’s like, dude you took down Hillary Clinton every fucking moment you were on air. Andrea Mitchell same thing. Each and everyone of one of you brought us here. Own it.  Yeah that’s what makes me pop a vein. This is making my side hurt!

Did you meet with resistance when talking with people? How did you combat rejection or resistance?

Oh well first of all, I love rejection. It’s this weird thing in me. I came out here on the actor’s track so it fed right into that, “oh reject me!” I find it humorous, like ok, the rejection, for like the smallest of details. So I learned rejection really fast. And I think also being a trans queer person you just come kind of built knowing that your life is not going to accept you. Y’know, you’re automatically rejected! So you kind of create this perseverance and a humor about it because, seriously, I don’t really fucking care who accepts me or who doesn’t. I’m here, I exist, I’m proof because I’m standing before you. And that’s basically what I would say on the doors. And when I would find rejection to mainly the message and Hillary Clinton, I would ask people to reconsider either not voting and voting.

And then there were the Bernie or Busters. That rejection, I would ask them to reconsider, they allowed me to speak, some didn’t. It was the only time I was threatened on the doors, like, “don’t come back here and if you do” and had things said to me, some male posturing.

And this was opposed to the GOP or Republican voters who you met?

Our doors were targeted towards democrats. Occasionally though we’d land on a GOP or republican door and I was met with thank you but I’m voting republican. And I was like, anything I can say to change your mind? And they were like, nope. I was like, that’s cool thank you for being polite. That wasn’t always the case for my co-workers. I mean there was psychological warfare out there. But, invigorating.

How far do you think we should go in asking our politicians to say no to Trump’s appointments, and particularly the Supreme Court nomination? How much should they say, no?

I think we demand a filibuster. I need to reread what Harry Reid said about the filibuster, I have to understand a little bit more about how that would take place. But what I’m hearing is that Donald Trump is already saying… I even hate saying his name… that he has instructed Mitch McConnell to go nuclear. Which is basically, to usurp the power from the confirmation hearings and declare that 51 votes is enough. I fully expect the Democrats to filibuster this choice. I do believe that they will go in that direction. I think we had 3 or 4 democrats that voted for a cabinet nomination…

Tillerson

The oil guy, yeah Tillerson.

The fact that we have trouble keeping them straight, that we are like “which awful person” is telling.

I imagine we’ll have playing cards with their pictures on them. Remember when those were popular in the build up to the Iraq war?

Oh riiiiiight! Yeah those would be really helpful right now.

We’re past the point of like, I think it’s Rob Reiner who said that it’s so ludicrous that it’s impossible to make parody or jokes about this because, it’s happening. And, as I mentioned earlier when you came in, speaking to my neighbor who’s from Tel Aviv, whose mom is from Iraq who has genuine concern and who has experienced tumultuous times within her own country and her own life. I think the danger here is not recognizing that this is in fact, a hostile take-over.

I went back last night because I’m a masochist or a sadist… maybe a little bit of both. And watched debate number 3.

OOOOHHHHH!

Because I knew there would be so much content there. Basically, everything Trump said he would do is right there and Hillary called it all out, right there.

She did. If you had to pick one or 3 things, what is making you pop a vein right now?

Well dude, I literally popped a gut. It wasn’t a gut but it was a muscle under my rib. And that’s what this feels like! Ok, to put this in context I have a rib contusion and a fracture on my left side, which I’ve had since October. That I used to lovingly call my “Bernie-Stein Hernia” because we (HFA) were doing all the heavy lifting. But I found humor in it and I just kept going along. So what pops a vein now? Sigh. So many things it’s hard to single out just one. But again, I’ll go back to this idea that we can’t form a consensus unless everything is perfect. This demand for purity and the irresponsible message that says to young people like, “Hey we’ll get there quicker by hastening the revolution with Trump”. And as a queer person that felt like a direct threat to my life and well being.  And it turns out that I’m right. And not just me I think women and people of color and immigrants are first on the list. This is a war. I mean the motherfucker has a picture of Andrew Jackson in the Oval Office. So every time he swears somebody in or they like do a signing. There’s Andrew Jackson, which is hardly the image of democracy that we want to see. Again, we saw this storm coming and we tried to stave it off and we were terrified that the worst possibility would happen. But even with those ideas of the “worst possibility” these are even worse. So purity fucking pisses me off. And that there are still people out there who are insisting on it and being immovable is going to cut us off at the knees and it will kill the movement.

Can you explain Andrew Jackson to me in a sentence? Or I suppose I could Google it!

What I think is so offensive that at the launch of Black History Month Trump comes out and here’s this picture of Andrew Jackson always prominent. Jackson owned hundreds of slaves, he was a plantation owner. I think he falls in line with Trumps romanticized idea of a military leader. Again, if you go back to debate 3, he talks about Patton, as well as despots and fucking lunatics and tyrants. His strategy is very much a war strategy. And with Bannon, Bannon is the same way. And they’re not hiding it. That’s my whole point with the Andrew Jackson picture, it’s like, they’re not hiding any of this. Rudy Giuliani got up and said this is definitely a Muslim ban. They are rubbing it in our face.

How do we combat that?!

Slowly, I think. We have to remember that we are a nation of laws. I do believe our Constitution is strong. And I think that if they push too far we will push harder.

What does that look like to you on the ground as someone who has worked on a campaign, as somebody who is an activist?

I think it’s a culmination of acts large and small. If all you can do is take 10 minutes everyday to call your representatives, that’s what you do and that’s what your action is. The mantra I had, when I came off the campaign, I kept saying to people just by intuition and gut was that we’re all going to be called into action. You may not know how, but it will come to you and you will respond. That’s going to happen. For all of us. We will all be called into action in some way or other. And again, no action is too small and certainly we’ll take the big actions too. I do believe it lies within this movement. “This movement” being what happened around the women’s march and that organizational structure as long as they don’t self-combust.  I think there is really good leadership there and I think there is going to be really strong leadership from the Democratic Party. There already are.

Any specific names you’d like to shout out?

Oh yeah I mean, it’s the usual suspects Maxine Waters, Sheila Jackson Lee, Barbara Lee, in the congress. You have Cory Booker, who I know Big Pharma, but this is where the purity argument comes into, without understanding the true nature of the bill that he passed on. You have John Lewis of course, Elijah Cummings. Katherine Clark. Klobuchar, Franken. There are so many. Tim Kaine. And I love seeing them get active on Twitter. I mean, I know it sounds like a small thing but they are getting used to using the tool.

Now unfortunately, what we’re getting from what I call the regressive progressives is a backlash of people stalking these democrats coming forward and still going with the “elitist status quo” argument. I don’t believe they’re (regressive progressives) actually democrats, I believe they are more libertarian. They, along with Bannon, have no respect or regard for the structures for the corridors of power and our governmental system. Those are the same people who were rioting in Berkeley last night, well they were anarchists. So.

Did you get to meet Hillary?

I did not get to meet Hillary. Because when I did an event her in Los Angeles, I was the one running interference between agitators and her. So, that was fun! I got close, but I wasn’t in a hurry either. I had a job to do so that’s what I was focused on. And I figured the time will come. If it’s going to happen. And she’s not done. I don’t believe by any stretch of the imagination that she’s finished. What it looks like only Hillary can say, she’s a strategist and she damn well can take her fucking time. She was the tip of the spear that brought us here. And the fact that people aren’t willing to acknowledge that, that’s another thing that pops a vein. Then we’re going to have to start talking about misogyny and how that played an infective part of this catastrophic loss. It was definitely there. You can’t support the guy yelling “paid speeches” and not see the double standard in him yelling “paid speeches, show us those speeches!” without revealing his tax returns, rider 2014, or filing an FEC report. I mean, if I were a Sanders supporter that would concern me! Why the double standard? I would go and look at myself in the mirror saying, why can’t I look at the faults of my candidate, while I can easily cite the faults of the opposing candidate, that’s a double standard. And by all terms, its misogyny. So, deal with it.

DEAL WITH IT! And with the 52% of the white women who voted, voting for him, the call is coming from the inside!

First of all, we don’t really know what the actual data was because we don’t know the extent of the hacking. And hacking that all was happening, that’s not some sort of fairytale story, that was happening. But again, if we pitched this election as a movie idea? We would be laughed out of the room. Because it’s got every possible character imaginable. It’s every dystopian novel ever written and we’re living in it. How do you find your way out of that? I mean, I heard helicopters tonight prior to your coming and I took a deep breath and got ready. That it wasn’t just a usual police incident but that we were arriving at the moment of the purge. Which is what a lot of these people who are on the extremes of both sides, I believe, wanted to see happen. I personally, feel like I’m ready. I was born for this fight.

What is something that you’ve done since the election that makes you proud?

I took out my garbage and did my laundry. No but seriously, I updated my cover letter and resumé and have been applying within the party to say I’m here I’m a valuable commodity, you can’t afford to have me on the sidelines. Which is basically what I did when I applied for HFA. I go to that line of thinking it and pushing that and then I think I just want to go live my Jack Kerouac life in Mexico City and find William S Burroughs. I think Mexico City is going to be a sanctuary. I think Mexico’s going to be a go-to. And I hope they get the fucking Alamo back!

This is a national nightmare. We are in a Constitutional crisis.

What would happen if we impeach Trump? Do you have an opinion about that?

Impeachment is too slow for this National crisis. But if it were impeachment and we go to Pence. We’re still looking at really destructive policies. Horrible, hateful policies. I believe, I would hope what this would lead to, is the destruction of the GOP. But we were making that calculation regarding a Hillary victory. I mean that’s what I would say to volunteers, this is our opportunity to deliver a final blow, with a crushing victory. Let’s give it to our vote, this is it, we’re here. When that didn’t happen I think we had to do a lot of readjusting and I think we thought a Donald Trump defeat would be the end of the GOP but actually it may in fact be his victory that finally destroys this goddamned motherfucking antiquated dinosaur. Again, I think I was born for this battle! I’m ready to go in.

And just to be clear the dinosaur is the GOP?

The dinosaur is, I hate speaking in such like Jungian… it’s the archetype, the white male patriarch. I mean, it’s showing itself for all that it is. And they’re rubbing it in our face. There’s not even any shame about it. And you can’t even really say White Male, because of the Orange One.

He’s the devil.

I hate insulting the devil like that.

What is one thing that you’ve learned that you’ve learned and what is something you want to learn more about?

I’ve learned more about my limitations. Which was kind of stunning. That I am vulnerable to feeling a sense of, not hopelessness, but of losing sight of my optimism. That is staggering for an optimist, and a pragmatic optimist. I’m a problem solver. So not having an immediate answer to this, that’s been revealing. So how do I find my way out to that and speak about a message that is positive and one that resonates a hopeful sense. How do we revive that? So what I want to do is learn how to do that. I said immediately after the campaign I said it is going to be time for us to dig deep, deeper than we’ve ever known. And yet, a few weeks after I was really strong like right after because, again, I was fueled by anger and adrenaline still. And when that gave out, I kind of hit bottom and didn’t quite know how to do the heavy lifting and deep digging. I mean I do know how to do this, I know it intuitively, but in this climate when there’s a constant barrage of bad things happening how do you persevere? My steps are self-care. Which I’m failing at miserably!

I keep hearing that from people. What works for you when you can do it?

Beers and tacos.

But seriously, exercising is usually a key thing for me. But I haven’t been able to do that because of this Bernie-Stein hernia. So how do I recover from that? How do I get my physical self back? In that challenge, I find hope because I know it exists within me. It’s my will. It’s my purpose. This is a calling and I think many of us have been called. And it’s whether or not you follow through on the call. When the call comes you pick up. Hopefully you’re ready. So that’s sort of what I’m doing right now, that slow preparation of whatever that next call is. That I can answer it. Fuck. Shit. Once you say it out loud! Wheee!

In another self-care question, are there any artists or any art that helping you get through this? Or even your own art and how you practice it?

Yeah, it’s trying to find the best method in which to use my words and my point of view. That is my challenge. So yeah, me. But also television is like the aloe vera to put on wounds. It always has been, since I was a kid, it would be my go to. “The Get Down” the Baz Lurhman, I love that show. I love musicals. It’s so fucking typical of a queer but, yes. What was concerning, all of my go-to’s that I would find comfort in, nothing was working and it was alarming. I couldn’t find any sense of joy, not joy but even reprieve from the barrage. And then I started watching horror movies and that helped.

Oh yeah, I did that with American Horror Story because it was the only thing that was high stress enough, that when I finished it felt like a relief.  

Exactly. It’s like trying to out terrify yourself from the reality of what’s happening. How do I make this worse? Plus I think when you’re terrified it creates adrenaline and I think many of us have become adrenaline junkies through this experience. Because many of us are driven by the belief that we are a fucking strong nation, we are a good people. I come from that optimism.

As much as I hated the message of hope and change because I knew it was exactly that, it was advertising at its best. And I knew that people were globbing onto it because they were expecting it to be instantaneous, so in that respect it was a failed message. And yet Obama kept saying this is a long-term process they weren’t hearing that. And when I say they, I mean consumers, because that’s what we all are. We’re all consumers. And it’s the same short sightedness that I find fault with the Sanders campaign, with “the revolution”. I’m sure we’re going to see commercials and runway shows that are going to be inspired by like protests and activism and that’s when you know that we’re kinda fucked. No I’m just kidding. On this subject, we’re about to experience the biggest advertising event in America, the Super Bowl. And of course I have thoughts on that because, I do love my sports. I’m a NY Giants fan and sports fucking saved my life on the campaign. Sports is a go-to that I use a lot. It’ll be interesting to see what trends during the super bowl and fucking Lady Gaga is performing and I can’t tell you how damned excited I am because I have to believe that she’s going to deliver a message. Unapologetically, I hope. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high because like a committee has to approve it all but it’s Gaga. So I’m hoping like a brigade of pantsuits just like comes out. Because she was a big Hillary supporter and still is. We’ll see what she has going.

And then you have the Patriots who are all Trump supporters from the quarterback to the KRAFT family and you’ve got the Atlanta Falcons where Jimmy Carter goes and watches the games.

I did not know that.

This is the battle of gladiators. So it’s cheap entertainment for one second without taking our eyes off the prize. It’s ok to allow yourself these distractions. I am genuinely concerned about safety more so than any other Super Bowl. I think this man has made us a target in just what is it 12 days? Yeah.

What is your preferred form of activism?

I like coalition building and outreach and I think for me, ideally where I want to go is into the lower socioeconomic neighborhoods that Trump said we were taking for granted. I don’t think we took anyone for granted. I can speak personally and say there was not one voter we took for granted. But I do feel that there is a wealth of potential in these areas that have been ignored and not cultivated. It’s frustrating because when you’re poor and nothing has changed for you, why would you be inspired to vote? And that’s what I heard a lot. But they did still vote. And when I say they, I’m including myself in this demographic of marginalized people. Of those who might be disillusioned or “what has the government done for me lately”? I have 101 complaints about the government. But I also know that, as a queer person, I mean the barrier was broke for gay people because of Obama.

Because of specific laws that he passed?

Yeah. Yeah. And the recognition. I mean we heard Trans People be referred to in the State of the Union. I honestly never thought I’d hear that in my lifetime. Never. I always use the analogy that he was setting the ball up on the tee and that Hillary … That Hillary and Obama were a team since 2008. Do I know that for a fact? No. But it seemed to be playing out that way. I’ll get this first 8 yrs. and then it was going to be a fucking home run. We kinda blew it. Big. Obviously.

What do you think happened?

I always say, I felt like George Clooney and that big wave was coming. It was the perfect storm of many things. We were fighting from the left, we were fighting from the right, we were fighting from the daily messages from the media about Hillary, Hillary, Hillary, and never holding Trump accountable. In fact, giving him free 40-minute airtime! It was astonishing. We will go back and look at this and we will study this and everyone will be held accountable. That happened and then I have to say the Comey announcement was devastating. But even before the Comey announcement was the Hollywood Access story where we, I never thought that was the damaging blow that would ruin his campaign because he’d already proven himself to be Teflon. But I got calls from volunteers saying, “Oh we’ve got this, we don’t need to get out the vote, do we really, do you still need me?” I swear I have more grey hairs from those calls than the Comey effect. But the Comey effect was significant.

What do you think Hillary Clinton is doing at this moment, right now?

Ok. I’ll tell you. In my mind what I’m hoping she’s doing is drinking wine and hanging out with Meryl Streep while the two of them talk about the patriarch and laugh and throw the glasses into a fireplace. 

Whatever she is going to do she’ll do it with dignity, grace and responsibility. That’s who she is. People miss that point about her. I remain humbled, honored and proud to have served on Hillary's campaign. I will forever be her Brienne of Tarth.

On the flip side of that, what do you think Donald Trump is doing at this moment right now?

Having his diaper changed. I’m sorry I said that. We were programmed not to say anything negative. Haha! Gloves are off.

We all have to do this in the middle of our lives.

In the middle of a war. It feels crazy to say this but I say hostile takeover, but I do believe it’s a coup. And I don’t throw that around lightly. I think there is trouble on the horizon.

Do you think there will be internal violence in the US?

I think it will be set up that way. I think we’re going back to COINTELPRO I’ll go back to USC Berkeley. I know that these protestors who are anarchists think they’re doing good by a cause their whole theory and premise, if you create disruption, you create exposure. So again being in advertising, it’s like no that message is kinda flawed. Because The Women’s March just proved that there are ways to get exposure through peaceful means, same with the airport demonstrations. So you’re coming in (the anarchists) and doing this is highly suspect and that is around the speaker Milo, who’s a Breitbart operative. To me, it echoes of CoIntelPro and the Black Panther party. How the government made the Black Panther Party seem so terrifying to a White America and a threat. When in fact, they were doing really good social justice and activism work. And the only reason I know this history, is because my last year in high school, I came out to my best friend who proceeded to shun me. I kind of then had a whole year of being shunned my last year. So I found refuge and sanctuary in the library and I found the Civil Rights Movement, and I found all these leaders and these voices and writers. That’s what instilled in me a sense of fairness justice and equality and why we fight for it. Because that’s the foundation in which we built this fucking nation. I’m not about to give up on it.

In saying all that I just said, it’s quite possible that I’m Travis Bickle that I’m totally, that I’ve gone totally over or that I’m Colonel Kurtz, I could be that character and this is Apocalypse Now. I have no fucking clue. I’m kidding America! Don’t lose your sense of humor. Whatever you do. And my other advice would be, fall in love. Because there’s no better time to fall in love then in the midst of a revolution. Go for it. Live epic, cinematic, passionate fucking lives. But do it kindly and responsibly. And don’t fucking throw Molotov Cocktails. It’s really simple.

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Thanks so much, Tre! You can follow Tre on Twitter at treshaus