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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 1 year

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Classic

Minho x fem!reader

Set during tmr (movieverse)

Summary: reader works hard to become a Runner and prove herself, then she and Minho start to catch feelings (your typical Maze fic cause why not)

Notes: so. I did a thing. For context, this was initially part of my ace!reader fic, but getting them together took way too much time and the fic was so long. In the end I had to cut out the getting together part, and I made that into it's own original fic. End result: a classic Maze Runner only girl becomes a runner fic, hence the title

Warnings: none really, language (Glader slang)

You meet Minho the day after you arrive in the Glade.

As Newt brings you around on the regular job tour, you see Minho and Ben return from a morning run, and you're immediately intrigued.

"Hey Newt, what do they do? I thought we weren't supposed to go in the Maze."

"Right, that's who I forgot to talk about yesterday. Those are some of our Runners," explains Newt. "They go out every day to map the Maze and try to find a way out. It's a tough job, and while all of the jobs are vital, the Runners are some of the most important."

"How would I become one?" you ask, eyes still on the two boys disappearing into the Runners' hut.

"You wanna be a Runner? You'd have to talk to Minho, he's the Keeper."

You nod as Newt continues.

"And, being a Runner is hard work. You need to be strong; both mentally and physically, and think fast when you're in a tough spot. Bravery is key here, plus having your head screwed on right at all times."

He tilts his head. "That's not meant to be discouraging, just a reality check before you do anything. I mean, give it a try. Just ask Minho."

As you try out wood cutting, you think about the Runners. Being able to run every day exploring the Maze sounds great. Plus, avoiding the stares of tens of teenage boys would be a nice bonus.

You decide to talk to Minho, and end up knocking on the door of the Runners' hut that night.

"Come in," he calls.

"Hi," you say, a bit nervously, as you walk in.

Ben and Minho are poring over the map model, and they look up upon hearing your voice.

"Hey Greenie," greets Ben with a grin.

"Y/n," says Minho. Your heart warms at the fact that he's learnt your name despite how you only remembered it this morning.

"Are you here for something?" he asks.

You take a deep breath. "I want to be a Runner."

Ben immediately scoffs, which escalates into loud guffaws. Seriously; he guffaws.

"Ben," Minho calls sharply. "Go get dinner, I think we've finished mapping for today."

"No- hey, I didn't mean to be rude." He holds his hands up in a placating manner, still wearing a smile. "It's just- the Maze is..."

"Ben, just go."

You step back as he brushes past you to leave.

"Sorry 'bout that," says Minho shortly. "So, you think you can be a Runner?"

"Yes," you say steadily, putting Ben out of your mind.

"You know, most of my guys had to be chosen and forced to do this. No one volunteers to go into that Maze. Why do you want to do it?"

"I want to help find a way out, plus I'd like the running." You look him in the eyes. "And I think I can do it."

He looks at you, thinking for a second, then speaks up. "Okay. We'll try you out tomorrow. Meet at the Maze entrance just before it opens. Find a way to know when that is."

The next morning, you go into the Maze to start trials with Minho. He takes you on a run to start off, before instructing you to do sprints across a long straight path as well as sharp turns around corners.

By midday, you're completely drained, leaning on the walls and sipping water slowly as you stretch your tired legs.

"Okay, we'll just do one more run and then go back," says Minho.

He watches your reaction carefully. You're clearly exhausted, so he's surprised when you swiftly stick your water bottle back in the pack and stand, ready to run again.

"You sure you can do another?" Even Minho himself is pretty tired at this point.

"Yes," you respond emphatically, levelling his gaze and silently challenging him to tell you to take another break.

He gives one approving nod, then turns to start running again.

⭒----⭒

"Okay, debrief time."

You're exhausted and sweaty and ready to collapse, but you stand tall in the Runners' hut when you and Minho return.

"Your stamina is good. You've got enough to run the Maze. Your speed and agility are good too, which brings me to my next point. Newt's explained the Grievers, right?"

At your nod, he continues, talking about all the possible emergencies and situations in more detail.

"You got that?" he asks at the end. "You need to stay calm enough to recall the home route, or find another way if that's blocked. I've lost Runners to panic before, and I don't need any more of that stress. There's no real way to test this, so it's just a heads up for now."

You nod again. "Okay," you say.

"Good."

Within the next day, you're officially a Runner. You start training and becoming more experienced with time.

You come to genuinely love the job, which a lot of Runners don't feel. You love the consistent drumbeat of your feet on the stone, and how good the snacks taste during a break in the secluded walls of the Maze.

Granted, said Maze is still a massive jail trapping you and the rest of the Gladers in, but you can try to find positives among all of it.

You share your thoughts with Minho during break times. While training, you found that he wasn't really one to talk about himself, at least initially.

But, when you start talking about running and exploring, he starts to join in, passionately telling you about the little intricacies in the Maze, like how the wall changes are satisfyingly predictable once you've mapped enough.

"You know," he says one day. "The vines grow flowers sometimes."

"Really?" You and Minho are resting with your backs leaning against the walls, sipping water and eating the snacks.

"Yeah, just little plain white ones, and they don't stay long, but they're really nice while they're there."

"Hopefully we'll see them soon," you say, touching the vines next to you and imagining them covered in tiny flowers.

You also find out other things about him too; not just Maze details.

There are the simple things you catalogue and store away in your memory, like his love for blackberries and preference for cold showers (you let him know that the shower thing is psychopathic, especially in the chilly mornings).

There are also the more complicated things, deeper knowledge you pick up as you know him longer. Some days he'll start to feel hopeless and angry about the Maze, and you'll know to just sit with him on those days and let your presence be a quiet comfort.

You learn that you always want to make him smile and laugh, and find that he makes you do the same.

Overtime, your platonic affections evolve into wanting to spend every minute with him, and loving each minor detail about him, until you're not really sure when you started to fall for him.

You do however, have an exact moment when you realise your feelings.

It's a Greenie welcome night, with the bonfire blazing and people yelling excitedly over the sparring matches.

You're a little tipsy from Gally's drink, and you've managed to pull Minho away from the Runners' circle, where they usually just stand around sipping their drinks and brooding.

You usually join in with them, and it's nice most months, but tonight you're looking for something more fun, and you're feeling reckless and warm thanks to the alcohol.

You drag Minho by the hand to where Zart and a bunch of others are playing a drinking game. You lean on Minho, bending over with laughter as Clint stumbles and nearly falls over, while Jeff watches from the side, rolling his eyes.

"Let's play," you say, yanking Minho forward.

"Hang on, I don't usually drink a lot- hey, careful!" He groans, smiling fondly as you trip over Clint, who is now on the ground. Minho shakes his head and follows you as you walk over to the game, still clutching his hand tightly.

"Do a dare or take a drink!" announces Zart. "Y/n! Your turn. Take a drink or kiss Minho," he challenges.

"Hold up," interrupts Minho. "We're not playing this game. Shucking immature."

You give him a wide grin, and shuck, he's gonna think about that look forever. The firelight dancing on your face, one eyebrow slightly raised, and a wicked grin. Pull yourself together man, she just smiled at you.

You're unaware of his inner turmoil over your expression, and you lean in playfully before lifting his hand and brushing your lips over his knuckles gently.

You laugh as he starts spluttering incoherently, blush rising to his cheeks as he pulls away amidst the other boys' boos and unsatisfied calls of "that wasn't a proper kiss!"

You turn and respond, "You didn't say where!"

"Alright, you sneaky shank, this time you kiss him full on the lips or drink this." Zart hands you a mason jar filled almost to the brim with Gally's drink.

"Oh, you think I can't drink this?" you challenge, ignoring the kiss part. You're not about to embarrass a clearly flustered friend by kissing him, so you've got to drink.

You raise the glass like a toast before downing it fast, the alcohol burning as it slides down your throat.

You lift it high in victory as you finish, the other boys cheering raucously and the kiss forgotten.

After slamming the jar down dramatically, you stumble back and crash into Minho, still laughing as your back hits his chest.

You turn and grab his shirt to steady yourself, and as you look up you're suddenly face to face with him, your noses almost touching.

There's a pause as you both freeze, staring into each others' eyes.

Then Jeff bumps into you, attempting to handle Clint off the floor, and the moment breaks. You jump apart and laugh it off.

⭒----⭒

The next morning, your head pounds like there's a goddamn Maze door grinding open in it. And yeah, there is a Maze door grinding open, but luckily you're not on the morning run today.

The last night comes back to you as you wake up, and that's when you realise: you wanted to kiss Minho. Not for the other boys' stupid game, but in that moment you wanted a real kiss.

As you try to process this, everything floods through you. All the hours spent mapping the Maze when you were actually just trying to get more time with Minho, all the quiet chats about whether you'll ever really escape the Glade, all the inside jokes and quips traded during meals.

You like Minho; for real. Shuck.

⭒----⭒

When you meet Minho at the Maze entrance for the afternoon run, neither of you bring up the last night. Or at least, it's done in a casual way, never talking about the moment - if that was even real.

You revert back to your regular patterns as you run, ignoring your rapidly-becoming-more-dangerous crush. You're in Section 3, and you're taking a break when you start talking like usual.

"Hey," you say. "I never got to ask why you became a Runner."

"Oh." Minho looks down.

You wonder if the question was too personal, or if there's some traumatic story attached. You open you mouth to tell him he doesn't have to answer, but then he speaks.

"I was here pretty early; I'm one of the oldest Gladers, so we were really still trying to figure out the roles and making a whole... society.

"I ended up choosing to be a Runner cause I wanted to escape this place. I wanted to get us out. Fat load of good that did," he scoffs.

"Hey." You gently kick your leg out to nudge him, and he lifts his head to meet your smile.

"Anyway," he continues. "I just chose this cause I wanted to leave here. I hated the Maze, actually. But it's changed now. Maze and I have a love-hate relationship." He pats the walls of the Maze and you huff out a laugh.

"But I know that's not why you became a Runner," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, you said that you wanted to help find a way out, but there was way more to it."

"Oh, do tell." You cross your arms and lift your chin.

"You wanted to prove yourself. Let's face it: first and only girl, you're gonna want to show that you can do a hard thing. You're gonna be so determined to show your strength that you jump at a job like this."

You frown at him outwardly, but inside you wonder how deeply Minho actually knows you. Has he really understood you that clearly from the start?

"I liked that about you," he tells you. "You had this fire, this spirit that I hadn't seen in many Greenies. You were so different to my other Runners.

"I still remember when you walked in. You looked me dead in the eye and said 'I can do it'. And here we are." He gestures between the two of you. You're leaning your backs on opposite walls, facing each other with your legs forming a V shape in the middle of the path.

"I'm glad I walked in that day," you say softly. "I wouldn't want any other job."

He lets out a small chuckle. "Yeah, me too. 'M glad you became a Runner."

There's a pause, then-

You're not sure who moves first, but soon you're pushing off the wall and meeting him in the middle as he captures your mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss, both of you grabbing desperately for each other.

Before you know it your first kiss becomes your first make out session, as you run your hands through his hair and feel yourself being pulled flush against him.

"This is stupid," he whispers between kisses. "I didn't even get to say my romantic speech."

"It was good enough for me," you say, smiling into the kiss.

Suddenly, you hear creaking as a wall close by starts to shift.

"Shuck." You pull away from each other. "That's not supposed to go until... 7 minutes before doors close."

"We gotta run."

Together you sprint back to the Glade, until the doors come into come into view.

The two of you slide in a the last second, rolling right onto the grass.

You can't help but laugh as the adrenaline from almost being trapped inside shoots through your system. Minho's grinning too as he extends an arm to pull you up.

"Bloody Christ, the two of you honestly." Newt stomps up to you, his expression thunderous. "You were meant to get back ages ago. You guys are never late! What happened?"

Your eyes automatically flick to Minho's.

"What, too busy making out to get back on time?" prods Newt.

"Well..."

"Shucking- agh. Never again. I thought we were gonna have to pull Y/n's crushed foot through or something. You were this close." He holds up his index finger and thumb.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them and heaves a long-suffering sigh. "I'm really happy for you two though," he says begrudgingly.

"Thanks," you say, taking Minho's hand and tugging him to the dinner tables.

Check Part 2 with reader coming out as ace and working everything out with Minho, which was the initial intention of this fic

But, if you're just interested in a sweet getting together story, there's no need to read part 2; they can be read as standalone fics.

Thanks for reading ❤

#the maze runner #tmr minho #minho x you #minho x reader #tmr minho x reader #my writing

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midnightactual · 1 year

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if I had to articulate the problem with Bleach, it's that Bleach ultimately doesn't work well as a shōnen story centered around one dude (Ichigo). that structure works fine for like, Yu Yu Hakusho, because that follows Yusuke's small group pretty much exclusively; and it works fine for One Piece and Naruto, because Luffy and Naruto are just the foremost guys of many, many independent competing teams. but Ichigo becoming Soul Society's pointman who must Do All The Things™ every single time gets really old really fast, and reduces everyone else to supporting characters in a really lame way

this feels extra dumb because the adults are still having all the adult conversations and making all the big decisions and we just don't see it happening because we have to follow a teenager. so we're following a relatively clueless guy with little to no agency as he plays gofer for those around him. like, so don't make it about the teenager then? you can split up the POV character and the protagonist. Mad Max: Fury Road did this perfectly. it would still be lame to have Ichigo being the solution to every problem, but it'd be a lot less bad if he wasn't also the focus. and no, saying this is vital for J. J. Abrams mystery box reasons doesn't excuse it, the mysteries and their payoffs are simply never that good

and you know what? the teenagers are the least interesting part of the series. of course they are! because teenagers… are teenagers! the most interesting teenager in the world will never be as interesting as the most boring thousand-year old in the world. their main function in a story driven by and composed of adults is to question the values and premises the adults are operating on (also given most of WSJ's readership is adults, as this 2012 survey by Shueisha shows, and Bleach was mostly read by girls, "it's for boys" is not an excuse so miss me with that)

and like, yeah, it's a shōnen. I've been accused of wanting things to be a different genre before. well, duh! because they very clearly want to be a different genre themselves! why do you think Kubo ditched Karakura as a setting when he'd planned to highlight everyone in Ichigo's class by turn? why do you think he dipped to explore so many other characters in FKT and TYBW besides Ichigo and company? why do you think LSS was a weird horror plot? why do you think SAFWY and CFYOW don't feature Ichigo or any other mains at all? because he (and everyone else involved) was sick of it too! in One Piece, even though the story follows Luffy and the Straw Hats, you get the sense everyone else is maneuvering around in their own ways even if you don't see it. in Bleach, pretty much everything waits for Ichigo. and it honestly sucks

I'm obviously super-biased, but to be what it clearly wants to be by series' end, the premise of Bleach should've been a seinen focused upon the Urahara Shōten on one end, and the Captain's meetings on the other, intercutting between those as events unfolded and focusing far more on the lives and perspectives of the people actually making the calls, especially given, unlike oh say Mobile Suit Gundam, as is there is virtually no payoff in the form of how all this actually affected the child soldiers who are the "main characters"

just the wrong damn format for the story it wanted to become, sorry not sorry. if you wanna focus Ichigo & Co. and Rukia, keep the story small. if you wanna focus a big sprawling epic, deemphasize them. pick one. you're not Tolkien, Kubo, you can't do both, and you clearly wanted the latter (yet you're still frustratingly obsessed with both the format and "mystery", both of which you also suck at)

#Out Of Character #Long Post #Negativity TW #[ I'm calling it like it is tbh ]#[ but some people ain't like facts ]

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fussyspace · 9 months

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Explorers of Rinth, John L. Simons Jr

Word count: ~208,000

Cover: It's an interesting cover, and the kid on the front (Isuelte, I think) suggests it's not aimed at adults. In hindsight, she does look perhaps a bit too young for YA, which is what this book was marked as, but I'll get into how this is relevant to the content later. There's a nice big tree in the background, which wouldn't mean much on its own, but the little wibbly light artefacts around it suggest something vaguely digital or spacey. All in all, a pretty neat cover.

Blurb: Relatively short, but it covers the two main threads of this story and keeps an air of mystery about whatever the strange secret is that binds the two groups together. I'd definitely take a nosey at the sample if I was seeing it for the first tine,

Vote: I voted yes to continue at the 30% mark (my personal vote, not necessarily team vote) and carried on to read the full book.

Content: Explorers of Rinth is a surprisingly long read for something marketed as YA, but when you see just how extensive its setting is, that becomes more understandable. Rinth's setting is wild and wacky, and it was probably the part I enjoyed the most.

However, it is also a book of contradictions. While it says it's YA, the general advice is that characters in books for teenagers should be a year or two older than the intended audience so that it's aspirational. There are many PoV characters in this book, but the main group are between 11 and 16 and they certainly act towards the lower end of that scale. The writing also feels more geared towards younger readers, but every now and then you get an f-bomb or a kid smashing someone's face in with a hammer that might not fly with a younger audience. Because the characters were young teenagers, they immediately irritated me. Thankfully, this improved about as soon as they stopped playing netball and got thrust into danger.

Our netball-loving teens, after all, live on a space station in a hollowed-out asteroid. They've made their own little group called The Explorers and like to snoop around bits of the station that they shouldn't, including the mysterious black staircase that leads to a labyrinthine network of tunnels. But what begins as a neat place to hold secret girly gatherings becomes a vital escape route when their slightly dystopian world comes crashing down on them. The Greys, soldiers under the command of the mysterious Grey Lady, come to shut the kids' school down and a riot erupts, which is what prompts the kids' escape.

There had been some interesting bits of information dropped about collaborators – people who sided with the Grey Lady and got special privileges because of it – and the exact circumstances were explained later, but at this point I thought they were about to embark on a colonisation mission because of things mentioned in Indira's chapters. So at this point I was confused – the events that prompted the riot seemed very childish and dumb, and I didn't get why the Greys didn't just explain the situation. Even the more senior Greys seemed abysmally trained. My confusion was explained away some time after the 55% mark, but that was still an odd moment for me, and that was a long time spent confused.

It's not just the girls we follow, however. At first we have Aristotle (who bags the first chapter, in fact), a man who wakes up with amnesia on top of a pile of corpses and gets taken in by a tribe. We have Indira, a doctor who gets woken from cryosleep only to discover most of her fellow travellers won't survive being woken – the ship's AI has made them oversleep by several decades. These are the core three at the beginning, although they are joined by many more later. I quite liked how Aristotle and Indira's chapters tended to answer each other's questions despite being separate for a while, and I enjoyed the adults' chapters more than the kids' chapters for the most part.

Slight spoilers follow from here, but it's only for one paragraph if you want to skip over it.

It turns out that the asteroid is a set of superimposed realities, a multiverse, with many of our characters existing in different ones. Throughout the course of the book, the girls visit many of these, coming face to face with minotaurs, gun-toting cowboy robots, six-legged bears and much, much more. By 55%, I was very confused, as I had the conflicting goals of 'go on a suicide mission to fight some aliens' and 'act as an ark for the remnants of humanity' rattling around in my head for the girls' original reality. Despite the multiverse having been introduced by this point, the two ideas were similar enough that I thought they must be the same timeline until it was explicitly mentioned after. Thankfully, all those weird bits of multiverse floating around made my confusion worth it.

The writing was a little harder to get on with, but more as an accumulation of little annoyances. It likes to repeat words and has some punctuation issues. Dialogue lacks natural contractions. Despite naming its chapters after their respective PoV characters, it seems to slip into omniscient or at least drift away from the PoV sometimes, which made it difficult to connect with them emotionally. (While they weren't the PoV at the time, I found the fact that the girl who smashed someone's face in with a hammer had no emotional or physical response unlikely, to say the least.) It also seemed allergic to using the past perfect tense where it should have been. Given it had an annoying habit of having characters show up somewhere, saying something had happened to them, then skipping back in time to show how, this made things confusing.

Towards the end, PoV characters starting rolling in in their droves, and not all of them seemed to advance the plot that much. I also got confused by what seemed to be a continuity error where a character was in prison in one chapter, then mysteriously free in the next. I might have forgotten him being freed because there was so much going on, but I don't think so. I definitely lost track of what was going on a little bit because of all the time and PoV jumps.

Still, I was looking forwards to seeing these many storylines tie neatly to a close, so you can imagine how disappointed I was when it set itself up for an obvious sequel and resolved almost nothing.

Overall, Explorers of Rinth is a solid slab of a book full to the brim of imagination and interesting characters, even if it can't work out what its audience is. It just doesn't quite manage to pull off its multiverse setting in a way that isn't confusing, and its proliferation of plotlines never get resolved in a satisfying way. I'm at risk of sounding like a stuck record with my reviews so far, but I see so much potential for this to have been made into several shorter books. There would have been more space to explore the amazing setting and to resolve some of the many plotlines towards the end of each book. As it is, the lacklustre ending after 200,000 words would put me off reading a sequel.

#SPSFC #SPSFC3 #SPSFC3 round 1 #self publishing #science fiction #sci fi #SFF #young adult

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thelifecoachingforteens · 2 years

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How Coaching For Teens Can Benefit Your Child

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herinsectreflection · 3 years

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I Don't Sleep on Bed of Bones: The Slayer as a Killer Across the Seasons

A pretty constant question throughout Buffy's arc - arguably the central question of the entire show, that Buffy must answer, is "what is a slayer? What does being The Vampire Slayer mean?". And a major part of that is the question of whether a slayer is just a killer. It's a question central to S5, but ripples throughout the rest of the show too, with some of the most iconic scenes in the show in converstion with each other around it. Inspired by an ask I received about this from @potterkid, I took a look at how this idea develops and resolves itself over the course of the show.

In S1, being the Slayer means accepting responsibility. It's metaphor for growing up - a metaphor that recurs throughout the show along with other ideas, but is strongest in S1. Buffy is torn between her teenage/human wants and her adult/supernatural responsibilities. She accepts her mortality and her duty (fighting the Master), and wins when she manages to integrate that with her personal desires (fighting the Master in a kickass prom dress with her friends and boyfriend). There's some stuff around the classic superhero idea that being around the hero is dangerous -e.g. in Never Kill a Boy on the First Date, but not much on the idea of a Slayer being a killer exactly.

In S2, being the Slayer means making hard choices. It means accepting that sometimes all your options are bad ones, but choosing one anyway, even at personal cost. This is introduced through Ford's story in Lie to Me, with Buffy's words to him forming one of the core thesis statements of the show ("You have a choice. You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice."), and it's climaxed beautifully in the tragic ending of Becoming. There's not much direct allusion to the idea of Buffy being a killer here, but this is a vital moment in that discussion. Ultimately, Buffy does make the decision here to kill Angel - not to slay Angelus, but to kill him. To take the life of her ensouled lover in order to save others. It's kind of the opposite of the decision that Ford makes - the best of two bad choices. It's the classic trolley problem, and Buffy's hand is on the lever by design - she has to make that choice because she's the Slayer. We will see this moment returned to again and again as this Slayer-vs-Killer theme develops.

Also, Ted is a very important episode for later. Buffy herself feels guilty specifically because she used her slayer powers on what she thinks is a regular human, and therefore killed him. Specifically, being the Slayer made her a Killer. It's also notable that this is where the idea of Buffy having a free reign to kill is first introduced - by Buffy's original shadow self in Cordelia no less.

Cordelia: I don't get it. Buffy's the Slayer. Shouldn't she have... Xander: What, a license to kill? Cordelia: Well, not for fun. But she's like this superman. Shouldn't there be different rules for her? - 2x12 Ted This isn't explored massively here but will be revisited again and again going forward.

S3 is where this theme really comes into focus. Faith enters as Buffy's shadow self and a representation of hedonism. How that manifests is as a Slayer who gives herself a license to Kill. She posits the idea that as slayers, they can and should decide who lives and dies.

Faith: Something made us different. We're warriors. We're built to kill. Buffy: To kill demons! But it does not mean that we get to pass judgment on people like we're better than everybody else! Faith: We are better! - 3x15 Consequences

Obviously, this is something that Buffy has to reckon with and fight against. But there is a glimmer of truth here, because at the end of S2, she does take the power of life and death into her own hands. She is faced with the choice between Angel and the world and decides that Angel should die. She had to, that's the position she has to be in because she is the Slayer. She has to be a Killer because she is a Slayer. So the two are intertwined.

More than this, Faith is someone who at least appears to revel in the kill. Up until now, we hadn't really seen Buffy enjoy being a slayer, but Faith does. Buffy is genuinely drawn to that, to slaying for pleasure. The equation of slaying/killing and sex for Buffy is first explicitly drawn by Faith in this season. ("Isn't it crazy how slaying always makes you hungry and horny?"). Slayers are very much like vampires in that respect, blurring the line between sex and death. In general, Faith introduces the idea that Buffy is drawn to killing - not just to protect people (the ideal of a Slayer), but for its own benefit. That's something that Buffy continues to struggle with going forward.

I have said before that Faith in S3 is an echo of Angel in S2, both in Buffy's relationship to them both and how that shifts mid-season, and in how it ends. In Graduation Day, Buffy again is given the power of life and death. This time, it's more personal - she can stop Angel dying by killing Faith. It's not such a straightforward (for want of a better word) decision as Angel .vs. the literal entire world, it's just the value of one life against the other. Another trolley problem, and it's not an easy choice, but it's still a choice. Just as she chose the lesser evil in killing Angel in S2, she kills the person filling the Angel role in S3. And this time, the choice is explicitly tied to the idea of being a Killer. Faith is set up as the person that Buffy could be in a slightly different world, and that person is a Killer, as Faith herself claims.

"What are you gonna do, B? Kill me? You become me. You're not ready for that, yet." - Faith Lehane, 3x17 Enemies

"You did it, B. You killed me." - Faith Lehane, 3x22 Graduation Day

In the act of choosing to pull the lever, Buffy has to kill. In the act of killing, she has become her dark mirror. In the act of defeating/becoming Faith, she becomes again the sole Slayer. Being a killer and a Slayer again intertwined. It's interesting here that she then makes the decision to feed herself to Angel. She unravels the trolley problem by throwing herself on the tracks. It's fascinating that between the dual trolley-problem finales of Becoming and The Gift, where in the first Buffy chooses to pull the lever, and in the latter she refuses and chooses a third option, Graduation Day exists in the middle as a stepping stone where she kind of does both.

The bulk of S4 is a little lighter on this theme, instead examining The Slayer as a role that must be juggled amongst a series of competing roles as Buffy's life as an adult becomes more fractured. There are flavours of it in Fear Itself, where Buffy fears that her friends will leave and her destiny lies with death and the dead, but otherwise not too much jumps out at me. Except, of course, for Restless, which is so heavy with this theme. It's one of the many reasons why I kind of consider Restless an honourary part of S5, as it's setting up the themes and arcs of S5 as much as it's wrapping up the like from S4.

RILEY: Hey there, killer.

BUFFY: We're not demons. ADAM: Is that a fact?

RILEY: Thought you were looking for your friends. Okay, killer...

TARA: I live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. I am destruction. Absolute ... alone. BUFFY: The Slayer. FIRST SLAYER: No friends! Just the kill.

OK, so SO much to unpack here. This is all within the under-10-minute sequence of Buffy's dream, and in that sequence she constantly shows a fear that she is in fact a "killer". It's clearly strong in her mind. Riley calls her "killer" multiple times, and Adam equates her with him, and with demonhood. I also find it very interesting how she responds to Tara's words, which are very literally describing the act of kiling ("the action of death...the blood cry...the penetrating wound"). She hears that and immediately identifies her as the Slayer, so slayerhood and killing are clearly bound up together in her mind.

Central to her concerns is the dichotomy between friendship and death. This was built up in Fear Itself, and it's central here. Riley and Sineya both frame it as a choice, between friendship and "the kill". This is a fear that Buffy has already, since S1, that her Slayer life will stop her ability to have a "normal" life of friends and family, but it also sets up her arc in S5 nicely. She chooses her friends over becoming a pure instrument of death in Restless, but that does not resolve her ongoing fears. They existed before and continue to dwell even more strongly in her mind, with words that both Sineya and Dracula repeat.

"You think you know ... what's to come ... what you are. You haven't even begun."

This sets the stage for S5, and her arc of choosing between family and being the Slayer. Friendship and family are presented as more of less one and the same a few episodes later in Family, and the choice Buffy is faced with in S5 is another trolley problem - the life of Dawn against the world. This time, it's more specifically tied to the Slayer/Killer dichotomy through the prophecy that Buffy is faced with ("Death is your gift"). This frames the similar choices she faced in Becoming and Graduation Day in the same light, with Buffy even specifically comparing this to the former.

BUFFY: I sacrificed Angel to save the world. I loved him so much. But I knew ... what was right. I don't have that any more. I don't understand. I don't know how to live in this world if these are the choices. If everything just gets stripped away. I don't see the point. I just wish that... I just wish my mom was here. The spirit guide told me that death is my gift. Guess that means a Slayer really is just a killer after all. - 5x22 The Gift

S5 is soaked in this Killer-vs-Slayer idea, and that's part of why I love it so much. It opens with Buffy having gained an appreciation of killing. She goes out not to patrol, but to hunt. To revel in the enjoyment of the kill, just as Faith did. There's also a constant theme of people identifying Buffy as a Killer. Importantly, it's a theme of her believing them. She knows that there is a kernel of truth there, and it develops from a subconcious worry in Restless to a more concrete fear in Intervention, where Buffy explicitly says that she is afraid that being the Slayer means losing her humanity and ability to love, and become nothing more than a "killer". Eventually, Buffy is so ground down by it that when The Gift rolls around, she simply accepts that the Slayer is "just a killer" as an inevitability.

BUFFY: Yeah, I prefer the term slayer. You know, killer just sounds so... DRACULA: Naked? - 5x01 Buffy vs Dracula

SPIKE: Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. - 5x07 Fool for Love

FIRST SLAYER: Death is your gift. - 5x18 Intervention

I also like the way that Joyce is repeatedly linked to this idea. Buffy's response to Sineya points to Joyce's death as a rebuttal to the idea of death being a gift ("Death is not a gift. My mother just died. I know this."). Buffy talks about Joyce just before accepting that "a slayer is a killer" in The Gift. Spike's speech about Slayer's having a death wish comes immediately before Buffy finds out that Joyce is going into hospital. The idea of the Slayer as an instrument of death, killing every day, is juxtaposed against the mundane horror of what death is really like, as demonstrated in The Body. As the Slayer, Buffy must cause death, but this is what death looks like. It's hard and painful and mortal and stupid. Eventually Buffy reaches a point where she just can't do this anymore. She can't live in a world where she must choose to be a killer, because she understands death more now than ever.

It's here that the show explicitly connects the ideas of utilitarianism and being a killer. Buffy says that killing Dawn to save the world (and by association killing Angel to save the world, or killing Faith to save Angel), would make the Slayer "just a killer". This goes back to S3, and Faith arguing that the death of one innocent was washed out by the many people that they save, and that being Slayers gives them the right to make that calculation. Tara points to Giles in this episode, the voice of utilitarianism, and identifies him as a killer. Giles himself identifies himself as one when he kills Ben, and here draws a line between being a utilitarian/killer, and being a hero.

BEN: Need a ... a minute. She could've killed me. GILES: No she couldn't. Never. ... She's a hero, you see. She's not like us.

Some people criticise the moral absolutism of this, and could very justifiably argue that killing Ben, or even killing Dawn, would be the most moral thing in this situation. Who are we to say that Dawn's life is more valuable than the lives of a thousand other 14 year old girls, with families of their own that love them just as much as Buffy loves Dawn? But within the context of the show, I think it makes sense for them to reject utilitarianism. Buffy is a Sisyphean story. There will always be another apocalypse after this one is stopped. There will always be another impossible choice with innocent lives in the balance. Through that lens, the idea of "killing one to save a thousand" becomes meaningless, because there's a thousand apocalypses, and if you kill one to stop them all, then you've killed a thousand. That's how Buffy feels - she killed Angel, she killed Faith, now she has to kill Dawn? Where does it end? Eventually it all just gets stripped away, so what's the point? There's no winning move here. The only way to break the cycle is to change the game.

We should also keep in mind Buffy's words at the start of the episode. She fears that the Slayer is "just a killer", but she is also identified by the guy she saves in the alley in the opening scene as "just a girl". And Buffy agrees ("That's what I keep saying."). Buffy is The Vampire Slayer, which dictates that she must make these impossible choices, but she's also Buffy, which means she is a human being with the power of free will. She gets a choice - not a good choice, but a choice. As a human being, she can reject the options in front of her and find a third way. She can transform the whole game, and turn "Death is your gift" into an empowering statement. This was heavily foreshadowed of course - the Guide in Intervention outright stated that Buffy was full of love, and that "love will bring [her] to [her] gift". But it takes Buffy working through these fears and emotions and realising that she simply can't take Dawn's life. She chooses a new way. She avoids being a killer by rejecting utilitarian ethics. To paraphrase The Last Jedi, she wins by saving what she loves. Ultimately, she's not a killer, but a girl, a friend, a sister, a Slayer - a hero.

So season five is very much the climax and resolution of this theme. Very few themes ever disappear entirely from this show though, and this one continues to echo throughout the show. In S6, Buffy again fears she is slipping into darkness. That there is some kind of darkness that is innate within her. But where in S5 this was a fear that she recoiled from but at times seemed inevitable, in S6 it is something that she is drawn towards, that disgusts her but that she takes a kind of comfort in, because it's easier than facing the mundane reality of her depression.

This yearning for her own darkness takes the physical form of Spike, who she uses for what is basically sexual self-harm. Spike steps into Faith's role as Buffy's shadow self for much of the later seasons, and , and like Faith he represents killing as hedonism, and as sex. There's no vampire who so aggressively blurs the lines of sex and death/violence as Spike. Her fear that killing is part of her nature, and her fear of her own sexual desire, are very much one and the same. When she breaks down in Dead Things, she talks about the darkness within her, and of her shame over her own sexuality.

Spike also repeats Faith's utilitarian justifications from Consequences in the episode which forms the climax of Buffy's self-destruction, Dead Things. When Buffy attempts to metaphorically commit suicide by turning herself into the police, she does it while constantly identifying herself as a killed. She repeats some variation on "I killed her" four times in just two scenes. She wants to be punished for being a killer, and not protected for being the slayer. She has grappled with this several times, and is still resolute that being the slayer does not give her a license to kill, but this time she is desperate to be seen as a killer, to give justification for her own self-hatred.

The final way S6 explores this idea is with Willow. When she is after Warren, Buffy tries to stop her, not for Warren's sake but for Willow's. She knows that taking a life changes a person, and implicitly draws on the first time she chose to take a human's life, the moment she "became a killer" on that rooftop with Faith.

Buffy (re: going to kill Faith): I can't play kid games anymore. This is how she wants it. Xander: I just don't want to lose you. Buffy: I won't get hurt. Xander: That's not what I mean. - 3x21 Graduation Day

XANDER: She should be coming down at some point, shouldn't she? I mean, back there she was out of her head ... running on grief and magicks. BUFFY: Doesn't matter . Willow just killed someone. Killing people changes you. Believe me, I know. - 6x21 Two to Go Killing Warren might have been justified given what a complete piece of shit he was - just as killing Angel was justified, just as killing Faith was, just as killing Ben was. That doesn't matter, because Buffy still recognises that the act of killing leaves permanent psychological scars, which she is still bearing.

In S7, we get the final major exploration of the "does the Slayer have a right to kill" idea in Selfless. Here, Buffy seems to have reached the conclusion that Cordelia, Faith and Spike (all her shadow selves) were right, and she does, in fact, have the right to pass judgment because she's the Slayer, when she decides she has to kill Anya.

"It is always different! It's always complicated. And at some point, someone has to draw the line, and that is always going to be me. You get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end the slayer is always cut off. There's no mystical guidebook. No all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply. There's only me. I am the law." - 7x05 Selfless

However, I don't think the show wants us to take this as gospel. Buffy is conclusively proved wrong in this episode, since killing Anya doesn't work, and it's Willow who finds a third option that saves the day. In S7, the idea of the Slayer-as-Killer is more an incidental theme, while the central exploration is the idea of "one girl in all the world". It explores the nature of that tragedy, that Buffy is by definition alone. Because of this, she necessarily must be a killer. She does have to pass judgement, because there is nobody else capable of it. She has to be the one to hunt and kill vampires. She has to face the choice to kill Angel, to kill Faith, to kill Dawn, to kill Anya.

This is where the theme ends up - as a tragic inevitability. Buffy must always make that choice. Making the selfless choice to kill her boyfriend doesn't stop it. Avoiding the choice and dying herself doesn't even stop it. That boulder just rolls down the hill again and again, and Buffy is the only one who can push it back up. The Slayer is a killer because the Slayer is alone. So the only way to break that cycle is for the Slayer to no longer be alone. There are still elements of The Slayer, and of Buffy as a person, that are linked to death and killing, but she has mostly made peace with those parts, and now can be free of having to be "the law" too.

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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ok so this trip down memory lane kind of leads neatly into what I was wanting to talk about last night (even though it’s past 4am again oops)

which is the gendered nature of queerbaiting and of bi/homophobia

like last night @silly-slacker-person and I were talking about Glee and about how like...the Brittana relationship started with the improvised line “if having sex was dating, Santana and I would be dating” and how that fits into a Pattern

where queerbaiting with male characters is about emotional intimacy but They Can Never Kiss Or Touch Sexually, queerbaiting with female characters is...weird.

queerbaiting with female characters is often almost the inverse of queerbaiting with male characters. female characters will kiss on screen, touch constantly, and even actually have sex with each other, but the story will still regularly insist they’re straight. and romance is off-limits. emotional intimacy is withheld. it’s always waved away with being a performance, or an experiment, or a thing they’re doing because they’re horny and don’t have a boyfriend.

and think about how often queerbaiting with women involves maneuvering them into a situation where they kiss onscreen but in a purely performative way (the example that springs inevitably to mind is Veronica and Betty in Riverdale - images of them kissing were all over the marketing for the show, and in reality they kissed as part of a choreographed performance in-story - I can also think of several examples where it’s as part of a game, a dare or because their boyfriends tell them to/to titillate their boyfriends) or like...it’s not technically Queerbaiting but how often women specifically are made bisexual but only in a teehee coy ‘it’s sexy when girls kiss’ way.

whereas queerbaiting with men is an “I love you...bro” or a quiet moment or a point of emotional intimacy and them touching remotely sexually/romantically is seen as the Proof Of Queerness, which writers will often shy away from committing to

it only tends to become A Canon Queer Thing when men express physical/sexual intimacy (kissing or sex)

it only tends to become A Canon Queer Thing when women express emotional/romantic intimacy (dating, “I love you”s, or monogamy)

and I feel...Some Kind Of Way about this and how it slots into the experience of exploring your own wlw identity. how women are still assumed to be and treated as straight even if they’re regularly seeking/having sex with other women unless they a) reject men utterly or b) enter a monogamous relationship.

and it feeds into something I’ve thought about a lot over the years which is how thoroughly gendered the experience of bi/homophobia is (not in terms of how you identify but in terms of how the -phobe is reading you)

like ultimately it comes down to the idea that men define sexuality

all sexual contact with women is overridden/negated by sexual contact with men. women aren’t given the same power to define sexuality as men.

which means that if you are a man who kisses/sleeps with men even once, you are gay

if you are a woman, kissing/sleeping with a man even once will make you straight

so sexual contact between women isn’t threatening the way sexual contact between men is. however gay a woman gets you can always walk it back in the eyes of heteronormativity. but if a man Goes Gay even a little bit that’s his identity set in stone however many women he goes on to sleep with/date.

and ultimately not to be crass it’s about The World Revolving Around Men’s Dicks. literally. so much of the gendered construction of homo/biphobia is about a patriarchal society unable to comprehend the concept that you could sleep with a man and be unchanged by it. sex and sexuality has been framed so universally for so long in so many cultures as a matter of male power and that is so definitional to homo/biphobia and to mainstream ideas about sexuality.

and that means that homophobia and biphobia are very shaped by your perceived gender in relation to your attraction

gay men are threatening because male sexuality is seen as such a powerful, shaping force, that the mere presence of gay men could be enough to shape the sexuality of men around them. this horror of Being Turned Gay this utter distress at the fragility of heterosexuality is so foundational to the way homophobia is upheld and expressed. it’s vital to heteronormative masculinity to distance yourself from gayness by any means necessary, to violently reject gayness, because even slight contact with male sexual or romantic intimacy has the power to redefine you.

whereas a lot of lesbophobia rests on the idea that it’s a deliberate rejection of men, and a temporary one - you’ll find the right man. sex with a man has the power to change you. and because of that relationships between women aren’t seen as meaningful in their own right. like a lot of cultures prohibiting sex between men treat sex between women as a natural, expected adolescent experiment, or as irrelevant as long as you also fuck your husband. it isn’t threatening to heteronormativity to kiss, fuck or love women, until you say this is real and it matters. Then it’s threatening because you’re being mean. You’re saying the Not Serious Not Definitional relationship of women loving women is powerful, more powerful than the Defining Power of Man Dick, and that’s aberrant, and it’s also kind of seen as...childish? silly? like you just Don’t Understand that women loving women isn’t Real Attraction. you can’t define yourself through sex with women! they’re not men! women are defined by, they don’t define!

and as a bi woman who largely dates bi men, I’m particularly interested in the gendered nature of biphobia

bi men are assumed to be “really” gay and in the closet

bi women are assumed to be “really” straight and performing attraction to women for male attraction

and that brings us full-circle to glee

see Ty and I were talking about the two really offensive stories in glee which affected us as bi teenagers

he was talking about the story where Blaine says “I think I might be bi” and Kurt tells him “bi guys don’t exist, bisexual is just a label for closeted gay high schoolers”

I was talking about the story of Finn outing Santana, which is a CLUSTERFUCK. but aside from the outing, thinking about how everyone canonically knew that she was sleeping with Brittany but she was only put in danger when it was named as a queer love. like that she was still understood as entirely straight and Doing It For Attention even when holding hands, kissing and fucking another woman, as long as she didn’t call it love or a relationship.

and I’ve talked to a lot of other bi people about the experience of being a bi teenager and almost everyone who was read as a woman as a teenager speaks to doubting the veracity of their attraction to women, to being treated as an attention-seeker looking for male attention or someone going through an experimental phase. and I think that’s usually how we talk about biphobia. as being assumed “a straight person looking for attention”. but the experience of a lot of people of narratives about bi men are a bit different and so the experience of bi teenage boys is really different. for girls/”girls”, queerness is something that has to be constantly asserted and proved. for boys/”boys”, it’s straightness that has to be proved. even if you mostly date girls, if you ever like. kissed a boy at a party or expressed attraction to another guy then people assumed you were gay and your attraction to women was fake.

and the throughline isn’t comphet it’s. I guess...comp-liking-men. it’s the assumption that attraction to women is a shadow of attraction to men. it can’t possibly compete.

I have often expressed, often to girlfriends I just had sex with, my fear that I’m appropriating queerness by laying any claim to it. like they look at me like I’m an idiot but later they’ll tell me the same thing. and that’s a fragility that assumed-male queerness just doesn’t have. male heterosexuality is so fragile that anything straying even slightly away from it is seen as Deeply, Threateningly Queer. female heterosexuality is so default that queerness has to CONSTANTLY fight for any space against it - even glancing in the direction of heterosexuality is enough to negate queerness. if you sleep with a man, if you even express the opinion that a man is good-looking, you’re Straight Now. they’re mirror images of each other and ultimately yeah it really comes down to the expectation of male power

and also kind of...the irrelevance of women’s feelings in sexuality? the construction of all sexuality (including heterosexuality) as Male Desire and Female Acquiescence - historically society tends to not give a shit what women want, feel or love as long as they have sex with their husbands and don’t run the risk of having another man’s babies. it honestly like, not to get all Straw Feminist on this but it comes down to the subjugation and dehumanisation of women. a woman in patriarchy is an object owned and used to serve a function and a relationship that doesn’t threaten the ownership or affect the function (you’re still having sex with him and he still knows your child is his) isn’t a threat. women aren’t owners, they’re owned. if you say ‘actually I belong to this other woman and not to you’ it becomes a threat. if you start refusing to be a wife or a sexual partner or a mother it becomes a threat. but “passionate friendships” and schoolgirl experimentation weren’t just tolerated but sometimes actively encouraged as long as you still fulfilled your function as a wife fully. like you can fuck other girls before you get married - that’ll help you learn to Do Sex without having you Tainted By Another Man. you can keep a live-in mistress as long as you understand that your husband will always take precedence - that way you can have those pesky emotional needs met but you won’t cheat on him with a man and cuckold him. it’s only when you say This Is Queer And This Matters And We Matter that it becomes a threat. when she starts mattering as much as him. when you don’t marry men but devote yourself to women. now you’re Failing In Your Function. obviously this isn’t how it’s framed now but like. these ideas seem to me to have a direct throughline to the ways queer women are recieved now - as either Basically Straight or as Aggressive Rejectors Of The Normal.

idk it’s 5:30 am now I should sleep. but. this is such a rich topic I could talk about it forever.

#biphobia #homophobia #lesbophobia #queerbaiting #misogyny #COVERED A LOT OF SERIOUS GROUND HERE FOR A CONVERSATION STARTING WITH GLEE

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wildborn-witch · 3 years

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“There are tales spoken in hushed whispers, beyond the ears of the Emperor’s Coven, about a tribe of witches who were bonded to spirits—mystical beings born of wild magic. An ancient race they were, said to have been the first children of the Titan when it fell. Taking the form of beasts, they had the ability to heal and speak to the Isles, calling upon its natural power. These gifts they shared with the witches, who took their name in gratitude, and together, they and their descendants settled near the Heart, wishing to live in harmony with the wilderness and their ancestor.’

“Centuries passed, and eventually their neighbors came to wield magic of their own, sparking a new age of discovery. In this time, the original covens were formed, each following one of nine disciplines, yet they all recognized the ancient tribe as the first masters. On their part, the tribe stayed distant from the others, though anyone willing to learn from them was welcomed among their ranks.’

“Everything changed, however, with the coming of the Savage Ages. Chaos reigned, and conflict and unrest divided the land until a new figure arose: a mysterious witch who called himself Belos. Claiming to be an emissary of the Titan, he vowed to bring unity to the Isles, insisting that unbound magic only brought disorder. One by one, the nine covens bowed to his teachings, but the ancient tribe resisted—they saw him for what he truly was, and would not give up the old ways. Their defiance led to their destruction, as Belos and his coven hunted them all down until, at last, only their chief remained. Accused of high treason, he was sentenced to petrification, frozen in stone as Belos took the title of Emperor over the Boiling Isles.’

“It has been thirty years since the tribe’s extinction, and the spirits have fallen silent, fading into myth and legend. But nothing lasts forever, for a new awakening has begun. The old ways will be found once more, and in time, the Isles will see the return of…’

To those who have followed me already on both this blog and my main account, I want to thank you all so much for your patience and continued interest as this has taken shape. To those who are here for the first time, my name is Drekasál, and I’m proud to announce the official master post and FAQ for the Wildborn AU!

I intend to update this as often as possible as I continue to work on new pieces—both artistic and literary—as well as answer whatever questions that may come up in the future, but for now, I figure the basics would be good to start with, first and foremost being…

What is the Wildborn AU?

The Wildborn AU is my personal contribution to The Owl House fandom, centering around my witchsona Tristan O’Connor who is its main protagonist. Taking place after the events of Season 1, it explores my own take on the history of magic on the Isles by introducing the Wildborn—a tribe of ancient witches bonded to powerful spirits of the same name.

Lore

Originating from days long before the Savage Ages, the Wildborn came into being when the Titan first fell, and hold great power over the Isles’ primordial forces. Reflecting their wild natures, their spiritual forms take on the form of beasts, both mythical and mundane.

In the past, the spirits had a rocky relationship with the early witches, whom had not evolved bile-sacs yet and thus relied on harnessing the wild magic of the Isles through glyphs. At some point in history, however, a young witch from an ancient tribe formed a Bond with the Thunderbird, the first of the spirits and their guardian. After that, the two groups grew closer, with more witches and spirits forming Bonds with each other, eventually becoming the Wildborn tribe. Harnessing the power of their spirits, the Wildborn witches did not need to rely on glyphs, and those pairs who developed strong Bonds could Merge to become a new being, a reflection of the spirit’s beast form combined with the traits of their witch.

Regarded as the first masters of wild magic, the tribe was well-respected for centuries, even as other witches eventually evolved bile-sacs and formed the original covens. Tragically, that came to an end during the Savage Ages, which saw the appearance of Emperor Belos and his enforcement of the coven system. Seeing the Wildborn as untamable and a threat to his teachings, he ordered for their persecution, hunting them down and forbidding any mention of them, until at last it seemed they had been wiped out. But the tales still persist, and the spirits live on, waiting for the day their Guardian will return, and restore balance to the Isles...

Inspiration

This AU draws inspiration from both Wolfwalkers and Brother Bear, both of which are beautifully animated movies, but the latter especially I consider a criminally underrated Disney movie. Wolfwalkers mainly inspired the Hellhounds, the secondary group of characters in the AU, but both movies played a part in developing the Wildborn themselves, particularly their powers and portrayal as animal spirits.

The Characters

Tristan O’Connor - Protagonist in the Wildborn AU. He is a faun witchling enrolled in the Beast Keeping tract at Hexside School of Magic and Demonics. Shy yet kind, he has a deep love of nature and the wild, though it is a passion he has been forced to curb up until now due to the rigidity of the coven system. It is revealed later on that he is Bonded to the spirit Anam, making him the first living Wildborn to exist in thirty years.

Aedh - Deuteragonist in the Wildborn AU. He is a member of the Hellhounds, a pack of wolf-like fire elementals who live hidden beneath the Titan’s skull. Daring and adventurous, he doesn’t have the same bitterness against witches like his elders, having not been born during the time of their persecution, and he welcomes Tristan warmly as a friend. He proves vital in helping the witchling adjust to his Wildborn powers, teaching him how to be a Hellhound when he is Merged with Anam.

Anam - Tritagonist in the Wildborn AU. He is Tristan’s Wildborn spirit, originally being the soul of a Hellhound pup born with “too little fire”. As the AU progresses, it is discovered that he is Aedh’s younger brother and littermate, thus making Tristan, through his Bond with Anam, Aedh’s spiritual brother and and a member of the pack.

Tuft - Supporting character in the Wildborn AU. He is Tristan’s pet griffin, getting his name from his tufted ears uncommon to his kind. A frequent companion of the witchling, he is fiercely loyal and protective, accompanying him on his adventures in the wilderness.

Eleri O’Connor - Supporting character in the Wildborn AU. She is Tristan’s mother and a member of Bard Coven, stated to be well-respected as a master of her craft. She is shown to be a caring and loving parent, though she constantly worries about her son, partly due to her frequent absence in the household, as well as her fear that Tristan might never fit in and suffer for it. Although she is Adar’s daughter, she is not Wildborn herself, having never Bonded with a spirit.

Adar O’Connor/The Thunderbird - Supporting character(s) in the Wildborn AU. Adar O’Connor is Eleri’s father and Tristan’s grandfather, and was the last great chief Bonded to the Thunderbird before the extinction of the Wildborn tribe. When Adar was sentenced to petrification, the Thunderbird permanently Merged with him to save his life, and they act as guides to Tristan and his allies as the AU unfolds.

Arduinna “Rina” Ward - TBA

Arwain the Seeress - TBA

This list will be updated as new characters are developed and added!

Are the main cast of The Owl House involved?

Yes, actually! Their roles are still being developed, but I do intend for Luz to play an important part in this AU, given her rediscovery and usage of glyph magic, and she becomes one of Tristan’s close allies. Eleri herself has had interactions/relationships with Eda and Lilith in the past, when they were attending Hexside together as teenagers.

Is this an open AU? (Can anyone participate/make connections?)

I definitely wish for the Wildborn AU to be as open-ended as possible, as I love making potential connections with the stories/characters of other creators in the fandom. Fair warning, however, that this AU is still in constant development, so things are liable to change! Don’t be afraid to reach out if you have ideas you want to run by me!

Is fanart/fan fiction allowed?

Y E S. Fanworks are 1001% allowed and would honestly make me the happiest person ever ;;V;;

Master List

Eye of the Storm - Lore of the Thunderbird.

No Mercy - Hellhound lore

Reassurance - Aedh welcomes Tristan

Locked or Free - 100+ follower Instagram DTIYS

One Being - Tristan describes the Merge

Dumb Animal - Tristan and Aedh encounter Boscha’s gang at the Knee

Tristan’s Beast Form - Reference sheet

Forces of Nature - Wildborn lore

The Thunderbird - Official model sheet

Adar Concept Art

Hellhound Reference

The Last Wildborn - Official banner

Healing - Gift art/animation for @sobsinfrench

«—•—»

If you have any more questions for me, don’t be afraid to submit an ask, and my inbox is open if you want to reach out to me directly! I also post artwork and occasional updates to my main blog @drekasal, so be sure to follow me there as well! Thank you all so much for reading through this, and have a wonderful day!

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iwanttobeyourwonderwoman · 3 years

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I can barely breathe when you are near.

I’m just gonna say I totally loved the show. Mad love.

And in case you haven’t figure it out yet, or watched the show to get it, I’m talking about Ginny and Georgia.

So many important topics touched on so many feelings and oh so many love triangles.

So join me as i dissect the whole show hehe .

Alright basic plot-

Young single mom Georgia and her teenage daughter Ginny, and younger son Austin, are always on the road and have now moved across the country to the small town of Wellsbury, Massachusetts from Texas, where they encounter a whole load of quirky characters. Ginny, who never had friends, slowly starts fitting in with the popular sophomores, mainly her neighbour Maxine, who also has a twin brother Marcus while Georgia befriends their mother Ellen. The series follows their attempts and struggles of fitting in with the town, all while developing their own love triangles (square in Georgia’s case). And the best part is, the unfolding of Georgia’s dark past filled with teen mom struggles and a little bit of murder mystery as to how she has gotten to where she is now.

Teen mom and daughter combo again? Been there done that!

Well yes, as everyone compares it to Gilmore Girls (my personal favourite show ever) here are some similarities and differences as well as other show references.

*SPOILERS!!

It does explore that close relationship that Ginny and Georgia have, but obviously the kind of bond that Rory and Lorelai had were a lot stronger and had their own personal quirks and wit. There were often rifts in G&G’s relationship caused by the secrets of Georgia’s past as well as Ginny feeling inferior to her own mother in terms of looks and her ability to be a chameleon to fit in anywhere. Rory was more focused on her grades and was comfortable just having her few friends. Ginny on the other hand wanted to be liked and wanted to fit in with her school friends and eventually becomes part of MANG and the boys. And in the case of the mothers, Lorelai focused on raising Rory and worked her way up to eventually owning her own Inn while Georgia snuck and tiptoed her way around swindling money wherever she could but all in the best intentions of her kids more than herself, desperate to give her kids the life she never had.

Also in a way I feel like this is also similar to Jane the Virgin except of course Jane’s character is older, but if you take the standpoint of the mother-daughter relationship and love triangle(Jane/Rafael/Michael) as well as a little psychotic Murder mystery Petra vibes.

, I feel like G&G is a good mix of Gilmore and JTV.

When it comes to love interests, Ginny was stuck between boyfriend Hunter and neighbour Marcus. Sweet, innocent Hunter (my favourite character in the whole series because if you know me you’d know I’m a hopeless romantic) was pretty much Dean to Rory, while cool skater and stoner guy Marcus was Jess. And honestly I see a similar trend here where most people are Team Jess/Marcus whereas I’m team Dean/Hunter for the main fact that Dean and Hunter both treated the girls really good and I like that.

Georgia, as I mentioned was more of in a love square than a triangle, because why the hell not right? There’s Joe, the owner of the cafe where everyone spends most of their time, then there’s Mayor Paul, who Georgia pushes her way to work for to get on his good side. And then of course, Zion, Ginny’s father. Sounds a lot like Luke, Jason and Christopher doesn’t it. I love that Joe had a more interesting and different story, where it was depicted in the flashback scene where homeless young Georgia, just found out she was pregnant at a gas station and comes out to a crowd of high schoolers, which is when she meets Joe. She says to him “I’ll look you up if I’m ever in Wellsbury” Joe was already attracted to her as a teenager and doesn’t realise it’s the same Georgia he met years ago till the last episode whereas Georgia has known all this while. I don’t know about you but I feel like now Georgia has the funds to move to somewhere she aspired to be, where she knows her kids will get the best and where she received “a sandwich and a pair of raybans that changed my life” Also let me just add that Raymond Ablack (Joe) is INCREDIBLY HOT.

Moving on to Paul, Georgia is attracted to him but there is that underlying greed because Paul can provide her stability and security and power. And that is when she will finally feel like she has achieved wheat she needs to. Towards the end, she almost chooses Zion because of her deep affection for him as ‘her penguin’ as she refers to him as. Being with Zion also means she can let her guard down and relax a little, and obviously is a great father to Ginny and even Austin who isn’t even his biologically. Which also makes both guys equally good contenders for Georgia.

Another thing I love about the show is MANG. Their friendship is real, it’s not just Abby and Norah accepting Ginny because of Max. Yes Abby did throw her under the bus in the beginning but they soon became really close and never singled her out after the shoplifting incident. It wasn’t a whole case of Regina George and the plastics all over again. They didn’t care that she was different.

So I feel like Abby is a very interesting character also. I read that her character was created based on a friend of the writer. So abby puts up a very strong front when actually she is feeling quite distraught from her parents ongoing divorce as well as her own issues with body image. Abby is very petite but still is not satisfied with her body so she tapes her thighs to make them look smaller and wear tight jeans so that she can look slimmer. I the Halloween episode, Press even calls her “whale legs” and she obviously gets upset and you can see it affects her because she’s striving for such a perfect image all the time but also I feel like she has a thing for Press so that really messes her up. You can also see she does get a little jealous of Ginny and Max’s friendship but that’s mainly because she feels lonely and unheard and she ends off being estranged from Norah and Max feeling like her whole world crumbled. I really hope MANG gets to patch up. They were the ideal friend group along with the guys.

“Oppression Olympics, let’s go.”

I don’t know guys, this line really stood out to me.

Basically this is the scene in episode 8 where Ginny and Hunter argue about racism and why Ginny deserved to win that writing contest with her unique style (girl used slam poetry for goodness sake that essay was amazing!!??) But Hunter won and he is clearly the favourite of their teacher. He talks about how he is half Taiwanese and the Asian stereotypes he faces here as well as the White remarks he gets from the Asian side of his family. Ginny too says she can’t fit in because she is half Black and how this town had a very small black population and people are not sure how to look at her. I feel like touching on these topics of race was really vital to not only the show but to the actors as well. From the bts, I read that Antonia (Ginny) and Mason (Hunter) were in a room with the writer and jus spoke about the kind of remarks they have personally faced which helped develop the argument scene because it was so real and raw and quite upsetting to watch. It’s something very relatable to the audience which also just amplified that whole episode overall.

I mentioned earlier my favourite character is Hunter. I admit I have a major crush on both the actor and the fictional character. Ok so I think Hunter was a great character, a very good boyfriend too, I mean look at the way he cared for Ginny, supported her, just that unfortunately she was more attracted to Marcus in the end but also that ugly oppression olympics fight just gave his character more depth to show that Hunter wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. I think girls watching the show deserved to see what a good guy looked like. He was smart, in a band, a very caring boyfriend, popular but not cocky. If you compare to let’s say the character if Peter Kavinsky, I think Hunter made a better boyfriend. DO i also think Kavinsky is a damn dream boat? Of course I do. but then again, I thought John Ambrose was a much better guy in the TATB series. Kavinsky was originally dating another girl before the whole fake couple thing started. Whereas going back to Hunter, he already admired Ginny from the first episode and stayed truly respectful until the end of the show. And that’s something girls should see and aspire to have.

Yes I loved the song I loved the fact that he sang it for her, I am such a hopeless romantic and I absolutely hate that poor Hunter/Mason has been getting a lot of backlash for the song/character. I’ve rewatched a lot of the Hunter/Ginny scenes multiple times just because. Hunter was a good guy. Period.

So looking forward, I think a lot of important topics were touched in this show, slightly different from let’s say 13 Reasons Why, and I hope that they can continue to delve into those stories such as racism,self harm, body image and so on which really hit home for me. Important discussion topics, important for kids to see like oh hey this character is kinda like me, and if they are facing these issues, how can they get through it?

Also I need answers to all my questions - Where did Ginny go? How does Georgia get away with everything? Will MANG get back together? Does Abby have a deeper story to tell? Do Marcus and Ginny end up together? AND WHAT ABOUT MY POOR BBY HUNTER??? Lots of unanswered questions, lots of stories to dig deeper into, and so many secrets. I loved the mother l-daughter relationship, the same way I loved Lorelai and Rory’s relationship too.

I obviously totally enjoyed the show, I’ve recommended it to many friends and I hope they enjoy it as much as I do, and get more people on my Hunter Chen bandwagon hahahaha! Let’s hope for a season 2!!

Another super long post, finally done. I can move on to watching other shows now (and still constantly wish I too had cool stuff like Sophomore sleepover)

Hate you, kidding! Love you, mean it!

(just gonna leave these here because why not????)

#gituuuu #ginnyandgeorgia

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 4 years

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Dear reader,

I must caution you about this next chapter. This is the chapter where we continue to explore creepy undertones pertaining to Olaf as a character. If you are not comfortable with reading about predatory behavior, comments ranging from vague to slightly explicit (on the topic of these predatory behaviors), a young girl being restrained, a young girl being threatened, threats to a minor, or vague to slightly specific comments about pedophilia, a creepy fuck stroking a young girl's hair, cheek, and leg... I would suggest skipping specific parts of this chapter. This happens on Violet's part of the chapter.

Please read with caution. If anything becomes too triggering or makes you too uncomfortable I am happy to summarize in vague details (when going over certain parts) so you are still able to follow the story. Please if you can't read this chapter in its entirely, I will be more than happy to explain the events of the chapter in a less descriptive way. _______________________________________________________________ Friendly Reminder:

I, Susan, the author of Misery Loves Company also wants to make it abundantly clear that THE TOPICS/TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER are things I frown upon entirely. I do NOT condone pedophilia at all, whatsoever. And I believe it is NOW in my fic that I will say this: if you ship the disgusting vile mess of a 'ship' that is Violaf...I would prefer if you stop interacting with my page, my story, and any of my works. Just because I put it in my story does not mean I condone it. I am using it as a element to explain why this sort of shit is WRONG.

If we are being abundantly honest, it is these segments that I have the hardest time writing and editing. It is a long, hard process and it never gets easier. No matter how vague the comment Olaf or even Esme make is, it is never easy. It makes my blood boil, my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

I don't feel right saying 'enjoy' because this is a tough pill to swallow.

So read with caution. Let me know if you feel I went too far or if you just want to comment like normal. I am not perfect. I am open to criticism. I just needed to make sure all my readers understand where I stand on the topic of Count Olaf's creepy ass infatuation to Violet.

Read with caution. Love the support you guys have given this fic.

-Susan.

Chapter Fifty-Four:

The One With Dr. Faustus and Anagrams

Klaus Baudelaire glanced in the mirror one last time. It’s now or never. He told himself. He glanced down cautiously. “How you doing in there, Sunshine?”

“Claustro,” she explained, which was her way of saying, “A bit claustrophobic,”

“We can think of another way…” he began but he felt Sunny shake her head.

“I’ll manage,” she replied. “Save Vi,”

He took one more deep breath as he carefully made his way into the hallway. Both siblings heard the cheerful singing of the Volunteers Fighting Disease just down the hallway. “ We sing while walking down the hall and then consult our list, to see the names of anyone who just might have a cyst.” The children could hear Brandon Spats and the other volunteers sing.

“Patient list,” Sunny whispered to her brother.

“You’re right, Sunny,” Klaus whispered back. “The volunteers have a list of all the patients. If Olaf and Esme are still here then they have to be disguising Violet as a patient.”

“Exactly,”

“Maybe we can get Brandon to give us a look at his list,” Klaus said hopefully. Now or never. He told himself again as the volunteers began to walk past him and Sunny. He closed his eyes. Violet would do this for you. He told himself. “Here goes nothing,” he whispered as low as he can so only Sunny can hear him. He straightened his posture but did not turn to face the volunteers. “Uh, you!” he called out in his regular voice. He immediately had to fight the urge to facepalm as he realized that a doctor wouldn’t sound like a teenage boy. “You...you...you,” he repeated out loud doing his best to deepen his voice so that none of the volunteers would recognize him.

“Me, sir?” Brandon asked as he turned around. The volunteers around him all followed suit and stopped singing as they all turned to face Klaus.

“Yes, you,” Klaus said in his deep voice. He was trying his best to give a sort of British accent to his disguise, afraid that artificially deepening his voice wouldn’t be enough. He could barely look Brandon in the eyes. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He had to fool the volunteers, if he couldn’t fool them then how could he ever fool Olaf or Esme? “I have misplaced my patient list,” Klaus explained, still unable to look anyone in the eyes. “And I was wondering if we could...If I could have yours?”

“My patient list?” Brandon repeated in a saddened tone. He clutched his clipboard to his chest. He looked around to his fellow volunteers who all looked at Klaus as if he had just broken each of their hearts. “But patient lists are precious.”

“Yes,” Klaus replied, focusing his eyes on the patient list. “Precious to you...but vital for me,”

Brandon frowned. “You do have a good point,” he said finally. He looked at several of his volunteers who nodded their heads at him. “No frowny faces, you guys,” he said as he began to hand his clipboard to Klaus. “We can just get another one from…” his eyes narrowed on a figure down the hall behind Klaus. “Oh hello, other doctor,” Brandon said as he gripped tighter to his clipboard. Klaus’ eyes went wide when he heard Brandon call out to another doctor.

Please no. Please no. Klaus thought to himself. Daring to not turn around. It wasn’t until he heard the familiar wheezy voice where Klaus’ heart plummeted to the ground.

“Yes?” the other doctor said from down the hall.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. To make matters worse, Klaus could feel Sunny starting to shake in the little harness that held her to his chest. Klaus wanted to run down the hall and hide but he knew he couldn’t. Maybe I can follow him back to wherever he’s storing Violet? He thought but he knew that was a risky plan. It would do him better if he stayed in front of the group of volunteers that way Olaf would not be able to grab him and Sunny since there were witnesses. Klaus slowly turned around to see Olaf walking down the hall towards him, the vile man’s eyes were narrowed as though he was concentrating on something.

When Klaus had turned around, Olaf had stopped in his tracks. He was now only a few steps away from Klaus. The middle orphan guessed that Olaf was trying to sneak up on him and was caught off guard by Klaus turning around, but he couldn’t be too sure. He hoped that his disguise was fooling Olaf but he had many doubts.

“Perhaps you can help this first doctor I was talking to,” Brandon said cheerfully. Happy that he didn’t have to hand over his patient list after all.

Klaus turned slightly back towards Brandon, not allowing Olaf to have any chance at a sneak attack. “No, no,” Klaus said in his disguised voice. “No need to bother this man.”

Klaus felt a hand on his shoulder as he tensed up. “It’s no bother at all, doctor,” Olaf said in his ridiculous disguise voice. “How may I be of service to you two fine gentlemen?”

The young boy was rendered speechless and was fighting himself internally. Doing his best not to shake, tremble, or even run away from Olaf who held a firm grip on his shoulder. Klaus even tried to hide behind his own hand, hoping that that would create a barrier that would protect his identity from Olaf but alas to no avail.

“He lost his patient list,” Brandon explained after realizing Klaus wasn’t going to speak. “So he can’t find his patients.”

“Is that so?” Olaf asked, his hand gripping Klaus’ shoulder harsher than before. “I know how it feels to misplace something,”

Klaus winced in pain slightly, pushing Olaf’s hand from his shoulder. Klaus could feel Sunny shake full force now which wasn’t helping him at all because he was still fighting every urge to shake. You gotta be strong. Do it for your sisters. He told himself. What would Violet do? Would Violet cower? Would Violet run? No. Violet holds her ground, especially with Olaf.

He slowly turned to face Olaf. It was much more difficult of a task than he had thought. He had to continuously ask himself ‘What would Violet do?’.

“You know, you look very familiar, ” Olaf said, his shiny eyes glaring at the young boy. Olaf was trying to look the boy directly in the eyes but Klaus continued to glance around, never allowing his eyes to continuously gaze at anything for longer than ten seconds. “What is your name, Doctor? ”

“M-my name...is Dr. Faustus,” Klaus choked out after stuttering over his words. He continued to use his deep British accent in hopes of maybe convincing Olaf that he was mistaken. Although, Klaus could tell Olaf could see right through his disguise. He still made sure to not look the villain in his eyes.

Olaf’s eyebrow raised as he held in a laugh. Klaus didn’t understand what Olaf found to be so funny. At least Klaus was able to come up with a name that actually sounded like it was an actual name right on the spot. The best that Olaf could come up with was Dr. Medical-School. If anyone should be laughing, it would be Klaus and Sunny. “Dr. Faustus?”

Klaus slowly nodded and extended a hand towards his worst enemy. “Dr. Colin Faustus MD.”

Olaf glanced down at Klaus’ hand and narrowed his eyes. He gave the young boy a cruel smirk as he gripped his hand, shaking it slowly. He gripped the middle orphan’s hand tightly as he stared directly at him. “You look terribly young to be a doctor. Where did you attend medical school, Doctor... Faustus. ”

“Uh…” Klaus stammered as he realized that Olaf’s handshake was causing him to tremble or maybe it was Sunny already shaking that was causing him to shake. He couldn’t tell anymore. He felt like his legs were going to give out. He was holding in his panic attack. “Ox...Oxf-ford,” he stuttered until he felt a tiny hand crawl up his sleeve and grab at his arm, the closest it could get to his hand. He gave a small smile realizing what Sunny was trying to do. What would Violet do? He asked himself again. As he took a deep breath. “Oxford, obviously,” he said confidently.

Olaf looked towards the boy crossly. “Huh? ‘Oxford’,” the villain snickered. “Sounds made-up,”

The volunteers laughed alongside Olaf as Klaus looked at everyone in disbelief. “It is not,” he whined in his regular voice. Shit. he thought as his eyes widened when he saw Olaf’s grin appear larger. If Olaf wasn’t already completely convinced that the ‘doctor’ standing before him was Klaus Baudelaire, then Klaus had just confirmed it entirely. “I..I mean,” he said resuming his deep British accent, “Dr. Medical School, may I have a peek at your list?”

Olaf smiled. “ Tell you what, ” the man snarled. “Why don’t you follow me back to my otherwise deserted office, and I’ll make you a copy,” before Klaus could decline that offer, he began to roughly poke at Klaus’ chest and stomach as if trying to find exactly where Sunny was at. After Olaf had poked him three times, Klaus could hear a tiny, but fearful whimper as he swatted Olaf’s hand away from his sister. He glared at Olaf, who only smiled back at him. “Looks like you could use the exercise,”

“There’s no time to lose,” Klaus explained in his disguise voice. “I have a patient in need of medicine,”

Olaf merely smirked. “That’s so funny,” he explained, his eyes shining as if he was about ready to tell a joke. “Cause so do I,”

Klaus and Sunny could both feel their hearts shift in their chests. Klaus became speechless.

“Maybe you can assist me with my patient,” Olaf suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. “I mean if you care. ”

“I...I…” Klaus started. “I would love to…”

Olaf grabbed ahold of Klaus’ arm. “Alrighty then, let’s go Dr. Faustus,”

“B-but,”

“But what? ” Olaf hissed glaring from Klaus to the group of volunteers, who he wished would go away so he could easily kidnap the two remaining orphans.

“My patient really needs their medicine,” Klaus explained.

“Well, my patient is in critical condition.” Olaf hissed.

Klaus’ eyes widened. No, she’s not. He wouldn’t harm her...he needs her alive to get her dad’s money. Klaus told himself over and over. “...my patient...desperately needs their medication,” Klaus tried again. “Or else they’ll die,”

Olaf looked ready to murder Klaus, he kept a firm grip on the boy’s arm. “I don’t know, Doctor. I feel like it’d be a lot easier for everyone involved if you were to come with me, right now.” Olaf tried to pull Klaus along but the thirteen-year-old stood in defiance, pulling back. Olaf let out a low growl and a heavy sigh. He leaned in closer to Klaus’ ear. “But Doctor Faustus, my patient is dying to see you,” the vile man hissed loud enough for both Klaus and Sunny to hear but apparently not loud enough where any of the Volunteers Fighting Disease could hear him. Sunny gave another low whimper as Klaus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Do not break down. You are stronger than he is. What would Violet do?

“Dr. Medical-School, my patient is in urgent need of their medicine,” he said again, this time agitated. Olaf looked at him in shock as the young boy roughly shook his arm from the man’s grasp. As he repeated himself, Olaf rolled his eyes as the bookworm spoke. Klaus turned towards the volunteers, “and...you...you wouldn’t want all these witnesses to know you let a patient die on your watch now, would you, Dr. Medical School.” Klaus rolled his eyes at his enemy’s ridiculous disguise name.

Olaf angrily sighed and glared at Klaus, who glared back at him. Olaf’s eye twitched in annoyance as Klaus was pushing down all his fear. It was a quick glare off, but Klaus was doing his very best to show Olaf that right now, he means business. That right now, with Violet down for the count, Klaus was the one that he shouldn’t mess with. It might not have been working to the degree that Klaus was hoping but it was keeping Olaf from downright snatching him and Sunny. Klaus just prayed that Esme wouldn’t show up or anyone else in Olaf’s vile troupe that would serve as back-up.

“You both seem pretty legit, to be honest,” Brandon said cheerfully. “You’re both wearing medical coats.”

Both Klaus and Olaf gave the man a puzzled look but didn’t say anything. “Just a quick glance,” Klaus said to Olaf. He watched as the villain smirked.

“Fine,” he said. “I like a challenge, anyway,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders. Klaus heard him loud and clear but he was too distracted by wanting to get his hands on the patient list that he didn’t have time to question or imagine what Olaf meant by that. He gave Klaus a taunting smile as he held up his clipboard. Klaus reached out for it as Olaf spun it around quickly still keeping a firm grasp on it. Olaf lowered the clipboard and his hands so Klaus had no way of getting the list. “ There, ” he said slyly towards Klaus. “I saved a life today.”

Klaus was speechless as he stared at Olaf. “B...but...I didn’t…” he said in his regular voice.

“Sorry, you asked for a quick glance,” Olaf explained slyly, with a shrug of his shoulders. Olaf grabbed onto Klaus’ shoulder again, leaning in once more to whisper to the teen boy. “Don’t worry though, I’ll see you real soon,” he whispered as he patted Klaus on the back. The narcissistic man glanced up at the volunteers who were about to start clapping for him. “Please hold your applause,” he said as he gave Klaus a small wave. Klaus watched in disbelief as Olaf began walking away. “I’m just doing my job,” Olaf said as he passed through the group of volunteers, not even glancing back at the disguised children. “I mean, you could applaud a little bit,” he told the volunteers as they clapped and cheered him on. A smile grew on the vicious man’s face.

“But...but...my patient…” Klaus cried out in his disguise voice.

Olaf continued down the hall. “I have to attend to mine, Dr. Faustus,” he called back, still not turning around. “She’s a real...special one.”

“But…” the young boy cried out as Olaf turned the corner.

“The camaraderie at this hospital is really inspiring,” Brandon explained as he turned back to his fellow volunteers. “ Tra la la, fiddle dee dee. Hope you get well soon. Ha ha ha. Hee Hee Hee.” they sang as they walked away, leaving the two Baudelaire orphans alone.

Klaus took the opportunity to breathe heavily, allowing all the fear that he was holding back, finally come up to the surface. He trembled and shook rapidly. “I can’t do anything right,” he muttered to himself. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. He glanced down the empty hallway. He felt tears falling from his face. “I had one job. One fucking job and I failed. Just like always.” Klaus was trying to calm his nerves but he kept hearing Olaf’s warning in his head. “Now...we’ll never get our hands on that list.” he cried

“Wouldn’t say that,” Sunny said from inside Klaus’ medical coat.

Before he could question what his little sister meant, he watched her two tiny arms reach out from the bottom of his medical coat. When he saw what was in Sunny’s hands he didn’t have to ask for further explanation, he gave a small smile as he gently took Olaf’s patient list from Sunny’s hands. “Sunny, you are amazing,” he said happily.

“I know,” Sunny said. “I wish I could see his face,” she started giggling. “When he realizes.”

Just as she said that both children jumped in shock when they heard a loud, angry, inhumane growl from several hallways away followed by the sound of someone throwing a clipboard at a glass window, resulting in the window shattering.

“I think he just realized,” Klaus said laughing a bit.

Sunny burst out laughing. “Honestly, didn’t take as long as I thought,” she said in between her laughs. “I guess he does have a brain.”

The two children’s laughter halted when they heard a very loud, “ That’s it!”

“Shit,” Sunny muttered.

“I think we should hide now,” Klaus suggested.

“Good plan,” she said as she felt Klaus hurriedly walked into a supply closet. Like a church bell, coffin, and a vat of melted chocolate, a supply closet is rarely a comfortable place to hide, and this supply closet was no exception. When Klaus shut the door of the closet behind him, the two Baudelaire orphans found themselves in a small, cramped room lit only by one flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. On one wall was a row of white medical coats hanging from hooks and on the opposite wall was a rusty sink where one could wash one’s hands before examining a patient. The rest of the closest was full of huge cans of alphabet soup for patients’ lunches, and small boxes of rubber bands, which the children could not imagine came in very handy in a hospital. He quickly unbuttoned his disguise to give his sister a chance to stretch her legs and breathe. He slowly untied the harness that held Sunny. Sunny slid down with ease as Klaus took off the fake beard and placed it to the side. “Well, it’s not comfortable, but at least nobody will find us in here.”

“Here’s hoping,” Sunny said as she kept an eye on the door behind her brother.

He began quickly scanning the page, reading off every name as quickly as he could. He flipped over the list with desperation. His hands beginning to tremble. Klaus had quickly noticed that the names were not in alphabetical order, which is the exact reason he began to read every single name on the list. Desperately looking for ‘Violet Snicket’ somewhere on the list. He flipped the page over and started again, believing he accidentally skipped over his sister’s name but as Klaus read the patient list for the third time, he could feel his heart sinking in his stomach. He angrily set the patient list down, half-tempted to rip it to shreds, but deciding against it. “ She’s not here.” he cried as he looked down at Sunny. “Violet’s name is nowhere on this list. How are we going to find her in this huge hospital, if we can’t figure out which ward she’s in?”

“Alias?” Sunny suggested as she glanced at the list. She wasn’t able to read like Klaus could but she knew her sister’s location was somewhere on this list.

“Good thinking,” Klaus replied. “Count Olaf often uses a ridiculous fake name.”

“Medical-School,” Sunny said rolling her eyes.

“Maybe...he made up a new name for Violet, so we couldn’t rescue her. But which person is Violet?” Klaus said.

Sunny shrugged her shoulders.

Klaus looked to Sunny with a frown on his face. “How are we going to figure out which name is hers?” he asked desperately as he was interrupted by the sound of crackly laughter, coming from over the Baudelaires’ heads. The two children nervously looked up and saw the square intercom speaker had been installed on the ceiling. “Attention!” Mattathias called out when he had stopped laughing. “Dr. Flacutono and associates, please report to the administrative office. Dr. Flacutono and associates, please report to the administrative office to prepare for your operation. ”

“Flacutono!” Sunny repeated.

“I recognize that name, too…but not entirely...it’s a little fuzzy,” Klaus explained. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that the false name Olaf’s henchman used in Paltryville?”

“Yep,” Sunny said frantically. “He said operation. What does he mean by that?”

But Klaus closed his eyes to concentrate, ignoring Sunny’s question.

“Klaus!” Sunny shrieked worriedly, not understanding why her brother had closed his eyes. “Our big sister is in grave danger! We have to find her!”

But again, Klaus didn’t answer his younger sister. He kept his eyes half-closed behind his glasses as they often were when he was trying to remember something that he had read. “Flacutono,” Klaus muttered quietly. “Flac-u-to-no,” His eyes shot open with realization as he frantically reached into his pocket, where he was keeping all the important papers he had gathered since his troubles first began. “Al Funcoot,” he said and took out one of the pages of Duncan’s notebooks. It was the page that had written on it the word ‘anagram’ a phrase that Klaus hadn’t understood until his big sister explained it to him. Boy, was he glad that she did? Klaus looked at the torn note and then at the list of patients as he continued to mutter ‘Flacutono’. Then he finally looked at Sunny, and she could see his eyes grow wide behind his glasses, the way they always did when he had read something very difficult, and understood it at last.

“Brain blast?” Sunny asked smiling.

“Why do you and Violet keep comparing me to Jimmy Neutron?” Klaus laughed as Sunny shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is I think I know how to find Violet,” Klaus said slowly as he glanced around the small closet. “But I’ll need your teeth, Sunshine.”

“Ready,” Sunny said, opening her mouth.

Klaus smiled and handed Sunny a can of alphabet soup. “Open this can of soup and hurry.”

Sunny took the can of soup from Klaus, looking at him confused. “No time to eat!” she screeched dumbfoundedly glancing at the can angrily. She didn’t understand what Klaus wanted with the soup but she was becoming angry with his refusal to take this seriously.

“We’re not going to eat it,” Klaus said calmly, kneeling down to Sunny’s level. “Look, Sunshine, I know I’m not good at making plans like you and Violet but trust me, please.” He put a gentle hand on his younger sister’s shoulder. “I need one of us to believe in me, and right now, it’s not going to be me. Can you do that for me?” he asked her.

Sunny looked from the can of soup to her brother still utterly confused but when she glanced at her brother’s sad eyes, she could tell that he was desperately pleading with her to give him confidence. The confidence that he needed to save Violet. She gave him a toothy grin as she began using her teeth to open the soup can for him.

“Thank you, Sunny,” Klaus said as she handed him the now opened can. He walked over to the sink and began to pour most of the contents of the can down the drain, making sure to keep all of the alphabet-shaped noodles.

“I’m still very lost,” Sunny admitted.

“Remember what Violet taught us about anagrams?” Klaus asked as he began to frantically search for the letters that make up his sister’s name. Sunny nodded her head. “Well, she was right. It’s not a person’s name. An anagram is when you move the letters around in a word or phrase to make another word or phrase.”

“Uh-huh,” Sunny said nodding her head slowly.

“Here, let me give you an example,” Klaus said. “You know how Mattathias was just calling for a Dr. Flacutono. Well, if we move the letters around in the name ‘Flacutono’, we get…” He lifted Sunny up and held her to his hip as he frantically moved the noodles around to change ‘Flacutono’ to a new word. Once he was done, he turned towards Sunny. “Can you read what that says, Sunshine?”

Sunny gasped as she read the two words that were now made up of the noodle letters. “Count Olaf,” she said angrily.

“Exactly,” Klaus said.

“Still kinda confusing,” Sunny said.

“Don’t worry, it’s confusing for me, too,” Klaus admitted as he sat Sunny down next to the noodles. “That’s why the alphabet soup will come in handy. Olaf uses anagrams when he wants to hide something, and right now, he’s hiding our sister. I bet she’s somewhere on this list, but her name’s been scrambled up. The soup is going to help us unscramble her name.”

Sunny slowly nodded her head.

“See, it’s difficult to figure out anagrams if you can’t move the letters around. Normally, alphabet blocks and lettered tiles would be perfect, but alphabet noodles will do in a pinch.” Klaus sighed. “We may need another can of soup,” he said handing her another can.

Sunny grinned, showing all of her sharp teeth and then swung her head down onto the can of soup. Both siblings remembering the day when she had learned to open cans all by herself. It was not that long ago, although for the two Baudelaires it felt like it was in the very distant past because it was before the Baudelaire mansion burned down when the entire family was happy, alive, and together. It was the Baudelaires’ mother’s birthday and she was sleeping late while Klaus and Sunny had offered to help their father bake a cake. Klaus was beating the eggs, butter, and sugar with a mixer as well as sifting the flour with the cinnamon, pausing every few minutes to wipe his glasses. While their father was making his famous cream cheese frosting, which would be spread thickly on top of the cake. All was going well until the electric can opener broke and their father didn’t have the proper tools to fix it. But he desperately needed to open a can of condensed milk to make his frosting, and for a moment it looked like the cake was going to be ruined. But Sunny, who had been quietly playing on the floor this whole time, looked up at her father and her brother and uttered her second word, “Bite”. Lifting her hand towards her father. Her father glanced down at his daughter and then back at his son, who shrugged his shoulders and said ‘it’s worth a try.’ Bertrand then handed Sunny the can of condensed milk and both male Baudelaires watched in awe as Sunny bit down on the can, poking for small holes so the sweet, thick milk could pour out. The two male Baudelaires looked at one another, smiled, laughed, and applauded. “That’s my girl,” Bertrand had said to Sunny as he lifted her up and held her close as he set the can on the counter. From then on, the family used Sunny whenever they needed to open a can of anything, except for beets which Sunny wasn’t particularly fond of. Now as the youngest Baudelaire bit along the edge of the can of alphabet soup, she wondered if one of her parents had really survived the fire. And she wondered if that someone would be her father. She missed both her parents and would love either one of them back in her life, although if she had a choice, she’d choose both. But Sunny had a slightly closer bond with her father and she missed their poetry hours and the way that he would toss her in the air and catch her. Klaus would never do that for her, he was always afraid he would drop her and her mother would never toss her high enough for Sunny to get the adrenaline rush that she loved so much. Her father would though. He trusted himself as much as Sunny trusted him to catch her each and every time. Sunny wondered if she dared get her hopes up just because of something Jacques Snicket had said on the Snicket file. What if the survivor is neither Baudelaire parent? What if it was Lemony? Sunny pondered if Lemony would adopt her and Klaus. Surely, he would. She told herself. He had helped them out before they had even met Violet. She wondered if Lemony did adopt them if he would toss her in the air like her father or recite poetry to her if she asked. She remembered when she had been tossed by Orwell back at Paltryville and how Lemony had caught her. She felt as though she could trust him. Besides, if Lemony was anything like his daughter, Sunny would trust him with her life in a heartbeat. Sunny glanced up at her brother who was hard at work looking for specific letters to spell their sister’s name that she wondered if the three siblings would ever have another chance to just be happy.

“Klaus…” Sunny said after a minute.

“Yeah, Sunshine…” Klaus replied, not looking up from his work.

She sighed. She wanted to ask him who he thought the survivor was but she decided against it, she decided that maybe she and Klaus can discuss that later when Violet is back in their arms again. She could still feel the cold metal of her sister's locket pressed against her chest and Sunny wanted nothing more to place the locket around Violet's neck, in its rightful place. “Nevermind,” she muttered.

Klaus finally was able to get all of the letters that he needed to spell Violet Snicket. He placed all the letters on top of another can so they could move them around. “Let’s take another look at the list of patients. Mattathias announced an operation so we should check the Surgical Ward section first just to narrow down our search.

Sunny nodded her head as Klaus scanned through the names on the list. “Goddammit!” he yelled slamming his fist on the counter near Sunny. Sunny jumped in shock.

“You okay?”

“Every fucking patient on this list has a name that looks like an anagram! How in the world are we gonna sort through all these names before it’s too late to help Violet?” he asked.

“V?” Sunny said.

“Sunny, you’re a genius. Any name that doesn’t have a ‘V’ in it can’t be an anagram for ‘Violet Snicket’.” Klaus said. “We could cross those off the list...if we had a pen, that is.”

Sunny reached thoughtfully in the pocket of Klaus’ medical coat and thankfully found a ballpoint pen. With a grin, Sunny handed the pen to Klaus, who quickly crossed out the names without Vs. “Okay, four names are left on the list,” Klaus said happily. “Albert K. Devilsenia, Ada O. Uservillet, Kit Litencoves, Ed Valiantsue. This makes it so much easier. Now let’s move around the letters in violet’s name and see if we can spell out ‘Albert K. Devilsenia. First.”

Working carefully to avoid breaking them, Klaus began to move the noodles he and Sunny had taken out of the soup, and soon learned that ‘Albert K. Devilsenia’ and ‘Violet Snicket’ were not anagrams. They weren’t even close. Klaus was able to spell out Violet’s first name but not her last name.

“Albert must be an actual sick person,” Klaus said in disappointment. “Let’s try to spell out Ada O. Uservillet.”

Once again, Klaus hurriedly shifted noodles, a faint and damp sound that made the children think of something slimy emerging from a swamp. It was, however, a far nicer sound than the one that interrupted their anagram decoding.

“Attention! Attention!” Mattathias’ voice sounded particularly snide as it called for attention.

“Oh, what does he want now?” Klaus muttered angrily.

“The Surgical Ward is now closed. Only Dr. Flacutono and his associates will be allowed into the ward until the patient is dead...I mean, until the operation is over. That is all.”

“Velocity!” Sunny screamed.

“I know we have to hurry!” Klaus cried. “I’m moving these noodles as quickly as I can, Sunny! Ada O. Uservillet isn’t right either!” He turned to the list of patients again to see who was next, and accidentally hit the noodles with his elbow, knocking it to the floor with a moist splat! Sunny glanced down as Klaus began to cry. “Can't I do anything right?” he cried as he tried to pick up the noodles that had once spelled out Violet’s name. But as he tried to pick up each noodle, they fell apart in his fingers, which only caused him to cry harder.

“It’s okay,” Sunny said, leaning down a bit to rub the top of Klaus’ head.

“No, it’s not. She’s going to die. She’s going to die because I can’t do anything right,” Klaus muttered. “She’s going to die just like her father and it’s all my fault,”

“We’ll save her,”

Klaus glanced up at his baby sister who was still perched on top of the counter above him. “How? How Sunny?”

“One more name,” she said pointing to the only name Klaus didn’t cross off the list. “It has to be her.”

“Not necessarily,” Klaus explained. “He could have put her in a different ward.”

“We can try it,” Sunny explained handing Klaus the pen and the list.

“Kit Litencoves?” Klaus said aloud. “Doesn’t Violet have an aunt named Kit?”

“I think so,”

“This might be her then,” Klaus said as he hurriedly wrote out his sister’s name on the patient list and then crossed out each letter that her name and the last name of the list shared. In a matter of seconds, the name of their elder sister transformed into Kit Litencoves. “It’s her,” he said happily before jumping to his feet and hugging his younger sister. “Sunny! We found her! Everything’s going to be okay!” he cried happily, a grin of triumph appearing on his face.

Sunny smiled as she returned the hug. “I knew you could do it,” she said slowly.

Klaus looked back at Sunny. “Thanks for believing in me, Sunshine. But I can’t take all the credit. If you didn’t use your teeth to open the soup I would’ve been here forever trying to unscramble these names with my mind.”

“It was nothing,”

“Plus...you didn’t let me give up.”

“Just us.” she reminded her brother.

“Just you, Violet, and me.” Klaus reiterated as he read the room number that Olaf and Esme were holding Violet in. “But let’s not congratulate ourselves entirely just yet. We have a big sister to save. It says that Kit Litencoves is in Room 922 of the Surgical Ward.”

“But Olaf closed that,” Sunny said sadly.

“Then we’ll have to open it,” Klaus said grimly as he began to tie the harness around him once more. “You ready to go back in?” he asked his sister gesturing to the harness.

“If it means saving Vi, yes,” Sunny said as she patiently waited for Klaus to tie the harness around himself and check to see if he had tightened it correctly before standing up on the counter and holding out her arms for her brother to grab her. He placed his sister into their conjoined disguise as he placed the fake beard back upon his face.

As he buttoned his medical coat, Klaus couldn’t help but feel happy. We’re saving her. The three of us are going to be okay. We just gotta get Violet, get the fuck out of here, and find the survivor. He smiled thinking about the survivor, whom he believed to be his mother. He could not wait to be in his mother’s arms again and to maybe even see her murder Olaf and Esme for putting her children through hell. He wondered how angry she’d be at him, though. For letting Olaf kidnap Sunny and ultimately breaking his promise. But maybe she’d be too distracted by meeting her eldest child that she won’t be too mad at him. Klaus sighed as he buttoned up the last button.

“You good, Sunny?” he whispered to her.

“Yep! Let’s go!” she cheered.

Klaus took a deep breath as he opened the supply closet door and walked out into the hallway. He glanced around the hallway determining how to get to Room 922. He was on a mission to save his older sister before it was too late.

_____________________________________________________________

Olaf grinned towards Violet as he watched her struggle against her restraints. She didn’t know what he was planning but it couldn’t be anything good if Esme and his entire troupe were here in the same room.

“What are you going to do to me, you fucks!” Violet screeched. “Klaus and Sunny will find me!”

Olaf rolled his eyes and laughed. “How many times do I have to tell you, they aren’t coming to rescue you. They left you with me to do whatever I please.”

“ You’re lying!” She screamed. “They...they wouldn’t… You have to be lying!” Violet’s tears were flowing down her face as the two white-faced women came into the room pushing in the anesthetic machine.

“We found the anesthesia machine,” one of the white-faced women said happily.

“This makes me see colored bubbles,” the other said as she inhaled more aesthesia.

Violet watched in horror as the woman handed Olaf the mask. “No! No!” Violet cried as she began to struggle harder. “ Klaus! Sunny!” she screamed as loud as she could.

Olaf rolled his eyes again. “She doesn’t listen very well,” Esme muttered. The vile woman turned to Violet gripping her face in her hand, pressing her long fingernails into Violet’s bruised cheeks. “Didn’t you hear my boyfriend? They. Left. You.” She said simply, enunciating every word.

“ No! They wouldn’t! They’re my siblings!” Violet cried desperately. “ They wouldn’t leave me! They know what you would do!”

Olaf smirked as Esme cackled viciously. “That’s what makes this even better…” Esme began.

Olaf pushed Esme’s hand away from Violet’s face so he can get up close and personal to her once more. “ You’re right. He does know. He knows just how evil I can be...and he left you.” The vile man hissed. “He left you just Like Beatrice...because face it, deary, to the Baudelaires...you are nothing. ” he stroked her cheek as he spoke, causing her to cry more. “So tell me, Violet, was sacrificing yourself from them truly worth it?”

“I’ve said it once...I’ll say it again, I’m finishing the job my father was unable to!” she screamed, spitting on the vile man once more. She quickly turned her head and spit towards Esme, who began to panic and scream. He growled as he wiped his face handing the towel to Esme, who was still screaming. Then both villians turned to the young girl and took turns slapping her with all their might. Olaf slapped her and her head jolted to the left and then Esme slapped her causing her head to jolt to the right.

He took a deep breath. “We are going to fix that delinquent behavior once and for all.”

“ Surgically,” Esme said smiling as she turned on the anesthetic machine. Violet continued to struggle, ignoring the pain she felt in her cheeks from where Olaf and Esme had slapped her. She knew the effort was fruitless, she was so helplessly outnumbered. She began to shake her head this way and that. She was desperate. She was frantic. She didn’t understand Olaf’s plan at all. But she knew that she had to fight. She looked upwards at Olaf’s henchpeople, looking more towards the Hook-Handed Man who had purposely stayed with her whenever Olaf was trying to be alone with the kidnapped girl. She still wondered why he looked vaguely familiar to her as if she had seen him before. She looked up at the troupe with pleading eyes as Olaf grabbed her cheeks once more.

“Don’t you know how to be a good girl?” he asked her, his tone sending chills down her spine and making her entirely uncomfortable. “Don’t you wanna behave? If you cooperate I’ll be extra nice to those pesky younger orphans when I find them. I won’t skin them alive if you stop struggling.”

Violet whined when Olaf squeezed her cheeks roughly. He leaned in uncomfortably close to her. “Do we have a deal?” He asked.

Violet whined again. Unable to answer with him grabbing her face like he was. He slowly released his grip on her. Tears fell from her eyes. “ You have me…” she whimpered, her eyes pleading with him and Esme as her arms and legs gave out and stopped struggling from the exhaustion. “... you don’t need them.”

“Such a noble girl,” Olaf said caressing her bruised cheek. “Always putting those brats before yourself just like your dear father.”

“Leave him out of this…” Violet cried meekly.

“I still wonder if the bookworm would have done the same,” Olaf mused.

“Oh, puh-lease. Have you met that sniveling little coward?” Esme mocked. “He would've sold her out in a snap!” she laughed, snapping her fingers in Violet’s face for emphasis.

“ Maybe it would take some convincing,” Olaf argued before beginning to laugh. He glanced down at his captive, who was now crying. “ Only because you would’ve had Sunny.”

Olaf grabbed the mask once more and Esme grabbed Violet’s face. “ No! No! I don’t...I don’t want to die...please!” Violet cried. She desperately tried to move her tired and restrained limbs but it was no use. She tried to move her head rapidly, to loosen Esme’s grasp. But that, too,was no use. Esme held her face roughly and in place as Olaf began to place the mask over her face.

“Oh, you won’t die,” Olaf replied.

“We’ll see,” Esme whispered, smiling viciously at Violet.

“See, we’re only going to pretend to kill you,” Olaf explained. “And when you wake up, we’ll see who was right. If you wake up, alone, well we’ll know that I was right when I told you that the Baudelaires don’t give a damn about you.” He cooed mockingly, wiping tears from her eyes. “And if you wake up to two beaten, bloodied, broken, but barely still alive orphans with you then we’ll know that you were right.”

Violet’s eyes widened when he had described what condition she might find her siblings in. “ No! Please! I’ll do whatever you want just leave them alone!” she cried, her voice wracked with desperation.

The villains merely laughed at her as they worked together to put the mask on her face. “Hold still, now, Violet,” Esme ordered.

“ What...what’s going to happen to me? ” she cried worriedly. Scanning the room for a decent human being. She tried to scratch at her wrist restraints but her hands didn’t reach far enough. Violet began screaming for help.

“Scream all you want, darling,” Esme mocked. “ No one is coming to save you.”

Finally, Olaf and Esme got the mask on Violet. The young girl tried to shake her head hard enough to get the mask to move. But Esme covered the mask with her hand, pushing down onto the girl’s mouth.

Violet continued to struggle although her body seemed to weigh more but her mind seemed to focus less. Violet tried her best to hold her breath and not inhale the anesthesia, but it was no use. She’s slowly becoming weaker and weaker due to the effects of the anesthetic. “He’ll save me! She’ll kill you!” she tried to yell but her screams were muffled. Violet was fighting the urge to close her eyes. Her eyelids were becoming extremely heavy. Her mind was slowly fading into fog. “They’ll…” she whimpered as her eyes began to squint. “He’ll...save me….she...she’ll...kill you…” she whimpered again as her head was becoming to foggy to stay awake and she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

“Shhhhh,” Olaf cooed, placing a hand on her cheek. “We’ve been through this...they left...no one’s coming to get you.”

“They’ll...Klaus...and Sun-Sunny….will…” she began as her eyes became too heavy to keep open at all. Esme relieved the pressure of the mask on the girl’s face. Violet slowly shook her head.

“Shhhh,” Olaf cooed, “It’ll all be over soon.”

“They’ll…” she cried again, tears were beginning to fall down her face once more. “... Dad...help...me...like...you….helped...them!” she tried to scream, but her voice was weak. Her voice was desperate and frantic. She shook her head sharply to the right. “... Dad...I’m sorry...please save….save me...Mr….Mr...Lemons….” she cried as she shook her head sharply to the left. She was trying to push the mask off of her head but to no avail.

“Shhhhh. Count backward from ten,” Olaf instructed.

“ L-lemon...man...I...I...can’t do...I can’t….do this...with...without...you,” she cried.as loud as she could with the mask affecting her and her fighting the anesthetic.

Both vile villains looked at one another confused and then back at Violet, who continued begging for her dad to save her. They weren’t aware of the fact that Jacques Snicket had suspected there was a survivor of a fire and Violet’s mind was too foggy to care about whether or not she was giving them this information or not. She turned her head towards the hospital door, she stretched her fingers out as far as she could as if she were reaching for her father.

“... Dad...your lit-little...girl...she...needs...you.” she pleaded. “ Don’t...please...don’t let….them kill me.”

“Your father is dead,” Olaf reminded her after his fit of laughter.

“And soon you will be, too,” Esme whispered bitterly, smirking at the young girl.

“ Dad...I don’t….I don’t...hate you,” she cried. “... save me…”

“He can’t save you, I burned him to a crisp remember?” Olaf asked continuing to laugh.

“ No!” she cried, her eyes rolling in her head. Her cries were no longer loud, but they were all the more desperate and emotional. “H-he...he’s going...to find...you...and kill...you,”

Olaf burst out laughing.

“ Lemon man!” she cried as loud as she could. “ Mr. Lemons!”

“Darling, absolutely no one is coming to save you,” Esme hissed as she waved her hand at Violet.

“ Dad...I need you…” she whimpered as she felt her fingertips go numb. Her wrist fell limp at the edge of the gurney and a few seconds later, her eyes shut completely. The last thing she could remember was the wicked laughter of Esme Squalor and the feel of Olaf’s hand stroking her cheek once more.

Olaf glanced towards his troupe. “Get the girl to the operating theatre. Get it prepared for our special guest,” he ordered as the henchperson of Indeterminate Gender began to roll Violet’s gurney out of Room 922. The White-Faced Women followed along pushing the anesthetic machine. Olaf looked to the Hook-Handed Man and the Bald Man. “You two, make sure that operating theatre is equipped with the scariest and sharpest medical tools you can find. And don’t let any unauthorized personnel on that stage!”

Esme folded her arms. “And what can I do?”

Olaf smirked. “You...can do what you do best,” he replied. “You’re going to capture the two remaining orphans and bring them to me,”

Esme rolled her eyes. “ Finally!” she screeched. “I can get my hands on my sugar bowl.”

“Just...get them to the operating theater and then we’ll get your damn sugar bowl,” Olaf explained.

Esme huffed angrily as Olaf walked away. She glared down the hall, a smirk slowly appearing down her face as she began to devise a plan of her own.

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matildainmotion · 4 years

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Equality and Diversity: Mothering Difference, Making Art

I have been slow to talk or write about race and diversity because of feeling vastly ill-qualified to do so. I’ve felt I should shut up, listen and let people who do not identify as white, straight and able-bodied do the talking and the writing. But recently I have come to realise that branding myself as ill-qualified feeds into the idea that ‘white’ is all-pervasive, as if white is so much the norm that it isn’t even a race, so what would I know about it? As if I am not part of the problem. I have done enough listening now to understand that structural racism is, in large part, for white people to undo. Just as patriarchy is not only for women to solve, and if you are a wheelchair user then the issue is not your lack of able-bodied legs but the lack of lifts inside the building. As the co-leader, with Lizzy Humber, of a movement called Mothers Who Make, which claims to be for ‘every kind of mother and every kind of maker,’ I think it is probably time I asked whether this is true – are we doing it for everyone, or only a privileged few?

Immediately, it’s complicated. For a start motherhood is a colossal category, so catering for ‘every kind of mother’ is a fantastic and preposterously ambitious claim. We like to try and list them: biological, adoptive, surrogate, foster, expectant, grand, great grand, single, bereaved…..is just the start of the list. Part of the reason for the movement existing at all is that motherhood itself has an ambivalent status in relationship to privilege. ‘Pregnancy and Maternity’ are ‘protected characteristics’ according to the Equality and Human Rights commission but this only covers a mother until 26 weeks after the birth. The remaining 26 plus years of raising the child do not count. I remember at one of the first Arts Council meetings I had with regards to Mothers Who Make, the ACE officer with whom I met said to me, only half-jokingly, “So are you to blame for all the funding applications I am now receiving that include childcare costs?” Whilst being a primary carer is slowly becoming recognised as an access issue, motherhood, the ACE officer explained to me kindly, is not a disability. Becoming a mother is a chosen privilege, not an inherited challenge. You were not born with it, instead, you were the one that did the birthing. This is true, and also not the whole truth. For me, it is true that being able to care for and raise two human beings feels like a huge honour. It is also true that my experiencing and naming my mothering as such is probably a result of my own white, middle class upbringing. It is a result of my having my children in my late 30s and early 40s. But even whilst owning my middle-class-ness, I object to motherhood being framed as a kind of lifestyle choice, as if children were a nice accessory, to be obtained if you wish. Motherhood is not always chosen. In teenagers and young women motherhood is often associated, not with privilege, but with deprivation. And then there is the fact that if motherhood were a lifestyle choice it would be a fairlly terrible one – hours and hours of unpaid, undervalued labour that does nothing for your cultural capital. Meanwhile, for some, missing out on motherhood can be a source of lifelong grief. Like I said, it’s complicated. And that’s just the mothering. Then there’s the making….

When I started Mothers Who Make I decided on the word ‘make’ not just because of the alliteration with the word ‘mother.’ I decided on it because I hoped it would be more welcoming to more mothers to use an everyday verb like ‘make’, rather than a fancy noun like ‘artist.’ You can make a bed as well as a book. You can make it through the day. Make a mess. Make mistakes. Make a difference. Even so mothers are still all too ready to exclude themselves: “Oh, I don’t feel I can come at the moment, I’m not really making anything,” is something I have heard time and again from potential participants and I have to work hard at convincing them that having made some soup is as valid and valued in a MWM meeting as having put a painting on the wall of Tate Modern. The verb ‘to make’ comes close on the heels of the verb ‘to be’ in defining who we are: we are human makings – creatures that create. I have always said that if you understand the need for a group called Mothers Who Make to exist then you can come – i.e if you want to be there, you are welcome. But is that enough? Is it enough to say that anyone can join in if they like? Based on our limited statistics to date, the answer is definitely no- it’s not enough. At present we are predominantly white (96%), straight (85%) and non-disabled (85%) (Stats from 124 equality and diversity monitoring forms, not from on our online community of nearer 3000). To be in a position to have heard of the group at all, to identify with it, to want to participate, to feel able to go through the door of an arts venue (in a pre-pandemic era), I fear already necessitates a certain level of privilege. So, what to do? There is an overwhelming amount to do, but as a start Lizzy and I have put out a call for feedback and am holding two meetings to focus specifically on how to begin to extend and diversify MWM’s reach (for more details see under this blog), and already I have received some incredibly useful responses. Right now, I want to draw on and explore three strands of feedback.

The first (thanks to Lucy Bell) was that MWM’s vibe – in terms of the images we put out, verbal and visual, and the culture of the group – leans towards what is often referred to as ‘attachment parenting.’ Our intention is to hold spaces that are non-judgemental and that do not condone or condemn any particular style of mothering. There is no right answer as to how to mother, how to make or how to manage the extraordinary challenge of doing both. Everyone has to do what is right for their particular circumstances, and their child/ren, and we recognise that ‘right’ even for an individual is an always changing work-in-progress. Part of the point of the network is to share and make visible to one another the enormous range of the answers that people explore and live out. However, in large part because my own solutions to the conundrums of mothering have been attachment parenting ones, I believe this has impacted the vibe of MWM and agree that, if this is not your style of parenting, it might make you steer clear.

The second piece of feedback (thanks to Zoe Gardner), was that MWM’s spaces, in person or online, often invite ambiguity, asking people to wear double identities, and therefore to blend or blur them. It implies in its name a relationship between mothering and making, a mucky mixture of selves and practices. I think this links back to the attachment parenting point – again I recognise it in myself. It’s what I do – I breastfeed my children, whilst typing my blogs sitting on their bedroom floor. I co-sleep with them and with my notebooks. I have carried the children in slings into rehearsal rooms and meetings. Both my mothering and making styles have been thoroughly messy, emergent and have involved much merging of spaces, tasks, beds, books and more. I strongly suspect that this tendency in me, which has in turn, to date, influenced the messaging of MWM, is connected to my relative privilege: if the gates are open to you, then you can afford to experiment with taking the walls down, rearranging the boundary lines; if the gates are closed to you, then messing with the walls isn’t necessarily an option, and might well be off-putting.

There is a further twist in this however- whilst many of these practices now seem white and middle class, their recent origins are most definitely non-western. A key text, written in 1975, which fuelled the whole attachment parenting movement, was The Continuum Concept by Jean Liedloff. Liedloff was inspired by her time spent living with the indigenous Yequana people in Venezuela. The Yequana carried their babies in slings, co-slept with them, breastfed on demand. MWM’s principle of holding spaces that are ‘adult-centred but child-friendly’ is directly linked to one of Liedloff’s key observations of how the Yequana raised their children in the midst of adult activity, as opposed to segregating them off into child-centred environments. I was born when the Continuum Concept first came out, when carrying your baby on your back would have been identified, by most in the UK, as something a woman from Africa might do, not a practice done by a white woman in Oxfordshire (my mother). Jump on forty years and, if you google images of ‘baby on back,’ the first one that comes up is of a white man with an Ergo-baby sling, a white baby inside it, standing smiling in his garden. This feels like dangerous and difficult territory. This shift could be framed as western culture growing more diverse, or as an act of appropriation, or both. Whichever it is, it adds to the complexity of the picture, which brings me to the third piece of feedback.

It came as a question on Facebook (thanks to Wendy Thomson) “Are we in white knight/ saviour behaviour mode?”- are non-white mothers, for example, doing just fine, thank you very much, with their own groups and support networks? And then there was also a response (thanks to Kit Whitfield Thomas) “I don’t think it is white knight mode, just manners. What is the alternative? – not trying to include us and assuming we should just sort it all out ourselves?” And along with this Kit made a request not to assume anything, a request, as a mother of a SEN child, for an acknowledgement that “no experience of motherhood is universal”. I think these are all vital questions and requests. We must keep inviting but be alert to our manners – the manner and the mode of the invitation, to keep making and holding space for, not the universe, but the countless, complex, diverse versions of experiences within it.

These three pieces of feedback have helped me to begin to think more deeply about diversity and equality, inclusion and exclusion in relation to MWM and beyond. Mothers Who Make already excludes – it is explicitly not for everyone – the clue is in the name. I have been challenged on this point repeatedly, most often with the question: “What about fathers?”. My response stems from a belief in specificity and difference. Equal does not mean ‘the same as.’ It may mean having the same pay, the same rights, the same access to opportunities, but it does not mean having the same experiences or identity. For now there needs to be a movement called ‘Black Lives Matter’ not ‘All Lives Matter,’ which doesn’t mean white lives don’t matter; and there needs to be a group called ‘Mothers Who Make’ not ‘Parents who Make,’ even though there are many creative fathers who also need support. Some lives that have not been deemed to matter, need to be visibly valued right now. Some experiences that have been marginalised need a special, protected space. Even in a utopian future, I am not sure the aim should be a world where we no longer need these groups and movements that hold space for specific differences, such as the black, the trans, the queer, the disabled, the maternal– and of course within each of these categories are a thousand further differences. My utopian vision would not be of a colour-blind world, in which no one notices race anymore, but rather one involving ever sharper vision. One in which people would see everything, every colour, pattern, nuance, every difference in ever greater detail.

For the second time this year I find myself reaching for my copy of the parenting classic, ‘Siblings without Rivalry’ by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. One of its chapters is headed “Equal is less:”

“To be loved equally….is somehow to be loved less. To be loved uniquely—for one’s own special self—is to be loved as much as we need to be loved.”

Back in February I quoted this same line within a blog about rivalry. I wrote,

“Yes, this makes sense. Equal is still in the paradigm of quantity. Equal implies that you could have more than me, even if we have the same. It explains my children bickering over identical chocolate bars – they both have exactly the same, and that, in the end, is not enough, not what they want. They want their differences, not their same-ness…as long as we remain in the world of quantities, of equal signs, then there is always an implied risk that one of them could lose - minus, subtraction, less, loss.”

Often ‘equal’ connotes a measure-able amount which results, I believe, in this fear of scarcity. The phrase ‘equal access,’ seems more useful. It is not the gold, but the access to the gold, that needs to be shared. This may seem like a crazy distinction, but I think it is important – it makes equality a dynamic process not an amount, the swaying of the scales, not the stuff weighed out in them. My children are not equal, they are not static, not quantifiable. As a mother, my job is not to treat them the same, but rather to recognise and celebrate their evolving, see-sawing differences. In a way their differences are the gold, and it is plentiful. Diversity involves a generous kind of maths – multiplication – always more. Equality and Diversity monitoring forms, however, involve more difficult calculations- our differences are boxed,tracked and stacked into statistics in pursuit of everyone having equal access. It is hard to keep the sense of equality as a dynamic process when faced with those forms. So, whilst they are a critical tool on a vital quest, I think we also need to keep doing the other sum- the one so long that it never reaches the equals sign but we know the answer to it is infinity – a glorious inventory of our never-ending differences.

As is recognised in the work of Abraham Maslow, in Marshal Rosenburg’s Non-Violent Communication, and in many spiritual traditions, if you go far enough with detailing the differences, patterns begin to emerge – we start to connect up, to equal one another at the deepest level of our needs. “Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a green field,” writes Rumi, the 12th C Sufi poet, and once we meet there, there is another inventory to be found, a list of the fundamentals to which we all require and deserve access: food, shelter, rest, warmth, autonomy, play, love……the complete sum of our same-ness.

For the last month my daughter has wanted the same bedtime book. Unprompted she has had her four-year-old finger on the pulse of the world’s process, for she has asked me again and again for ‘Mix,’ by Arree Chung. It is a beautiful, witty picture book, that I would recommend to anyone wanting to talk about difference and race with their children. It opens:

“In the beginning there were three colours: Reds, Yellows and Blues. Reds were the loudest, Yellows were the brightest and Blues were the coolest. Everyone lived in colour harmony, until one day when a red said, ‘Reds are the best!’….”

The colours decide to divide – to live in separate parts of the city. But then a Blue and a Yellow fall in love, and, contentiously, the first interracial marriage takes place. A mixed-race child is born - they call her Green. Slowly the other colours are inspired- more and more mixing follows, until at last they give up on segregation. The final line is my favourite one in the book: “The new city was full of colour. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.” I love that the happy ending is imperfect – it makes equality dynamic again, not a final prize possession but an unfolding multi-coloured process.

Meanwhile, Mothers who Make will continue to hand out equality and diversity monitoring forms. But alongside these, we will also start to interrogate and diversify the kinds of images and words we use, the places we advertise ourselves, the venues with which we work, the range of events we hold, in an effort to make ourselves more genuinely accessible to mothers and makers of every kind. Right now, I have, not so much a question of the month, as a request to put to you: I want to know about how you are different. I want to know about what you need. I want to know how to access you and how you might best access me, us, MWM. This is a fourfold invitation: you can write to me with your feedback via email - [email protected] . You can come to one of the diversity meetings happening this month (details below). And you can fill in our equality and diversity form so we can gain a more accurate picture of our network: https://forms.gle/wgDm335c1zQbaKer7

Lastly, you can do this: go beyond the boxes- go as deep as you can into your difference. Whether it is your ethnic identity, your neurodiversity, your sexuality, your gender, your disability, your child’s disability, your mental health challenges. Articulate it however you wish. Maybe it will be a list, an inventory. Maybe a letter. A photo. A drawing. A song. Be as specific as you can. Name all your identities, all your differences. This is a creative injunction - I believe it may in fact be where making begins - tracking your difference, your way of accessing the world, as the origin of art.

Our diversity-focussed meetings, via Zoom, open to all, are on: Thursday 9th July 1-2.30pm BST and Tuesday 28th July 10-11.30am BST. Children are welcome too. Email [email protected] if you wish to attend.

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baileymacias · 4 years

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What We Should Do To Increase Height Stupendous Tricks

Stunt growth basically occurs due to other people might say.These kinds of exercise that is what you need not to have children.There are also responsible for bringing about the best way to increase height, and some books and journals suggest the use of growth hormones.Ladies find tall jeans will soon start to do its job properly.

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The health experts alike, in finding ways to grow taller.Especially to the height of Chinese and South Korean people has increase by swallowing a tiny pill thrice a day!Here are some basic things to consider and achieve to be performed in at least thirty minutes a day and fifteen seconds for each day.Fortunately, the influence of the ways to still be able to add a little bit taller.You should be correct practice, posture and diet is essential to grow.

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Taller Thinner Faster Stronger

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#What We Should Do To Increase Height Stupendous Tricks #What Milk Helps You Grow Taller

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youthagainstrape · 4 years

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Porn:- An addiction needed to be stopped

Porn:- Porn is a short/long video or any printed thing, which has sensational aspects thing on it. Both men and women see porn. Nowadays youth is much connected to it. Porn is also a reason for rape cases. It is mistaken and when somebody sees it they then this is easy and everybody does the same but that’s defiantly not the case. Effect of Porn on Teenagers Depression and Loss of Interests: When a young person is being exposed to the challenges of life, they need to cope. Often, they are under-resourced to do so emotionally – partly because their brain is still forming, and teenagers usually encounter many challenges. Porn is a dopamine volcano that can boost a teen out of a funk. It is overwhelming and exciting to the brain, and it can quickly be associated with feeling better. Further, it is part of the nature of curiosity and exploration of sexuality – except that it is a lie that can consume them. Sadly, depression sets in when we become beholden to a shameful, secretive and brain chemistry-altering stimulus. Seeking this stimulus, keeping it hidden and managing nagging shame can consume a teen. Depression naturally lowers enjoyment in other things teens may have liked and made them more susceptible to return to porn. Video game addiction also functions in a similar manner and often co-occurs with pornography use. Lying, Stealing and Secrets: If a teen has increased the number of lies they tell and the secrets they hide, it is worth noting! People often assume these are natural actions of teenagers who are “finding their way.” This is true to some extent, yet if we take a step back, we can usually trust our internal sense of when this is growing into a problem. Further, if you have any money or cards stolen, passwords changed, the “password reset email” (when you didn’t activate it), etc., you shouldn’t blindly look the other way. Shame is the best friend of lying, stealing, and secrets. Don’t expect a quick or easy confession, and don’t press hard for one! This is more likely to make the teen go further into hiding. Extended Late Nights Yes, teens often stay up late, but if this falls into an unhealthy pattern, it is likely serving some purpose. It is important to teen can account for their actions and use of time. Debilitating Pursuit of Immediate Gratification: Again, this is common among teens, but it should be monitored. If your teen can’t move away from pleasure-seeking behavior, this either is causing them problems, or it will. A relentless search that negates the necessary tasks of growing up (school, chores, sleep, relationships, etc.) is a sign of something wrong. Technology Obsession: The previous point ties in with technology obsession. Teens with unfiltered and unmonitored access to internet-enabled devices are at great risk. Technology (including games) can quickly become addictive, and an inability to not use it is problematic. It is important to monitor the device history and downloads. You will quickly discover if inappropriate content is being accessed, or deleted or covered up (especially if history is consistently missing). You must get familiar with the technology your teens are using – including websites, apps, devices, etc. Truth of Porn:& Many people are mistaken by considering that what happens in the video that they have to do the same without any parameters. They just see the video they don’t go behind the scene. The truth is they do it for money and there is a whole industry of it. They sign a contract and then shoot the video according to it. They have their own thing and they follow. Role of Sex Education to stop Porn Sex Education is important now. Many of the teenagers don’t know what actually they are seeing because they are getting exposure to the world. In the meantime, if they don’t get the real guide or knowledge about it then it can be very harmful. Sex education is very vital to stop porn as the person who knows and has proper knowledge understands what is wrong and what is right. In addition, there are several things you should know about check out the blog on sex education on our platform. Ways to Stop Porn Addiction Key Points To Remember For Parents (Parental Guide): Start an ongoing, age-appropriate conversation about sex early. The child is more likely to be responsive and find you safe. Teach them. It is your responsibility as a parent. Place boundaries and safeguards. Explain to them as appropriate. Make space for hard conversations when you least want them – and when they most want them! Talk about sex and process your struggles with your partner. You need to know where you stand and have a strong starting place. Get expert help if you need it. Key Points For teens:- Take help of experts Understand the negative effect you can go through due to porn addiction you have to delete all the materials related to it Learn to control your trigger (feeling to see porn or do the activity) One thing is trying to cut down the times every day. (If you are watching porn 6 times a week then make it 3 then 1 then 0. Make a goal in small parts) Focus on doing other activities more so that you don’t get time to see. How To Approach Your Teenager Firstly, if you have evidence of pornography use, it is likely you don’t know the entire story. If you have evidence, the first thing to do is check that it didn’t come from someone else in the home – seriously. Then, bring the evidence to your teen at a time they are most likely to engage with you (if this is never, then make your best decision). You should non-judgmentally let them know what you found. Ask them about it, without venom, tears, accusation or anything else! Be calm and genuine. You need to be safe for them to move toward, and you need to deal with your own emotions, Don’t put that burden onto the teen. Wait on their response and gently bring it back around to the question if they sidetrack. Express how you care about them and want the best for them. Let them know what you think they might be feeling (shame, fear, anger) and acknowledge that you “get that” and it makes sense. Reassure them you aren’t judging them and are willing to walk with them in their experience. Listen, listen, listen if they are talking! When appropriate, move to explain the myth of pornography – that is normal that they would enjoy it, and that you disagree with their continued use of it and why. Your values should be communicated, as should the support you will give to your teen. The safer you become, the more they are likely to share. If you suspect something, follow the same steps as above. Start by initiating a conversation about porn from a sexually exploitative viewpoint (such as a sexualized billboard or ludicrous movie scene). Start with something like, “You know… as I saw X, it made me wonder about how all this over-sexualized stuff is impacting you?” Don’t be condescending, fake or make accusations. Do, however, get to a pornography discussion. They will more likely respect straight talk! Conclusion:-. The people who are in videos or in an industry they are not wrong. They are doing their work. However, the people who see it without knowing the real thing and do the wrong thing by inspiring seeing the video are wrong. Otherwise, Sunny Leone also does charity and many others have their family. Therefore, knowing the real part of it is important and not following it is better than doing the wrong thing. It can be harmful to society as well as to yourself.

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thestupidhelmet · 5 years

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I actually think most people who say Donna and Eric have a toxic relationship are right. While Donna usually owned up to her wrongs there were times that Eric should have bailed. When she ruins his joke about the camp counselor, constantly reminding him no Star Wars jokes, her break up with Casey and then basically saying let’s forget everything and get back together. So what Eric being consistent and committed wasn’t good but when Casey flaked on you suddenly you like Eric’s consistency ?

2/3 I’m not anti Eric and Donna I just don’t like them together. They have some good moments and good qualities to build on but her constant well I don’t know what my future holds is really offputting especially to Eric who loved her so deeply.

3/3 Donna also knew Eric was upset about the break up and assumed she was still allowed in his basement. Just because they used to be friends doesn’t mean they are anymore. He had every right to say get out you can’t be here. When she brought Casey to the foreman’s that was also a low blow. While she was in turmoil due to her parents that doesn’t negate her treatment of Eric and rubbing his nose in her new relationship. I like Donna just not with Eric.

It all boils down to interpretation. People can reasonably disagree.

I refer to In Defense of Donna (an essay in eight parts). In that essay, I discuss many moments where – according to the standards you’ve written about here – Donna should’ve bailed on Eric but didn’t.

In season 3, Donna keeps trying to assert her independence. Eric is threatened by this and acts controlling because of it. Granted, her treatment of Eric in “Backstage Pass” (3x24) is unacceptable. But it also stems from months of him trying to limit her life to their relationship. Unlike him, she has passions and dreams for herself that exist outside of him. He should have the same outside of her but doesn’t. That’s not her responsibility, and she shouldn’t have to limit herself or her life because he’s limited in his thinking.

By “The Promise Ring” (3x25), Eric’s insecurity reaches its apex. He tries to lock Donna down, not for her sake or their relationship but for himself. So he doesn’t have to face and work through his fear of losing her, but it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

her constant well I don’t know what my future holds is really offputting especially to Eric who loved her so deeply.

Just because Eric loves her “so deeply” doesn’t mean Donna shouldn’t pursue her dreams, those that include him and those that don’t. She’s only seventeen. She’s allowed not to know what the future holds. Hell, that’s healthy and realistic. Eric wants guarantees that Donna and, quite frankly, no one can give him. Even if she were to put her career and travel aspirations aside happily, a meteor could drop from the sky and kill her. Then Eric would lose her anyway.

So what Eric being consistent and committed wasn’t good but when Casey flaked on you suddenly you like Eric’s consistency ?

Donna’s mindset in that moment must be taken in the context of all of season 4. She loses Eric, the boy she loves, and her mother around the same time. Her sense of stability is chucked out the window. The fact she jumps into – for her – a committed relationship about six months (Point Place Time™ is strange, so let’s just go with it) after her breakup with Eric indicates her need for that stability overwhelms her need to explore casual relationships or no none at all.

That being said, Casey isn’t around all that much. He’s also not controlling. He’s off being so independent himself that Donna gets to pursue whatever non-relationship goals she has without fear he won’t approve.

Also vitally important to remember: she’s still in love with Eric during season 4. She just doesn’t know how to be with him while also having her freedom. His extreme insecurity put her in an impossible situation. He also starts pursuing other romantic options. So she dates Casey in an attempt to distract herself from her grief about Eric and her mom.

When Casey shows his attachment to Donna is almost nil and ends their relationship, it’s a moment of clarity for her. She’s shocked out of her denial, which she’s understandably in throughout season 4. The emotional pressure on her in that season is incredible. She has to support her dad as he grieves the end of his marriage, and she doesn’t get the same support from him. She can’t get consistent support from Eric, who was her rock during seasons 1-3, since they broke up. Kitty gives her a safe emotional place for a little while, but Eric’s insecurity derails that. Hyde gives her support when she lets him, and Jackie is a good friend to her. But, in the balance, Donna is quite alone.

She also has to deal with her dad dating another woman, and the dynamic of her social group being destabilized because of her breakup with Eric. These are two more losses for her to grieve. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, let alone a teenager.

So when she loses Casey, whom she’d projected a lot onto – including a non-existent stability – she wakes up. She realizes just how much her relationship with Eric gave her in the balance, and she’s willing to work through their issues so they can be together. She’s human. She’s allowed to make mistakes. So is Eric, who’s made so many throughout their relationship, and earned forgiveness.

I’m not saying Eric isn’t right to be upset or suspicious of Donna’s motives. But she deserves the chance to explain herself and all the turmoil she’s been through. She still shouldn’t have to limit herself or her goals because of a relationship, but – unfortunately – the writers never let her and Eric deal with this conflict between them.

Donna also knew Eric was upset about the break up and assumed she was still allowed in his basement. Just because they used to be friends doesn’t mean they are anymore. He had every right to say get out you can’t be here.

Donna and Eric have been friends since they were at least four-years-old. Donna, Hyde, and Kelso have been friends for almost as long. Jackie and Fez are Donna’s friends, too, and Eric’s basement is where all of them hang out. Yes, Eric has the right to ban Donna from the basement. But her expectation that she’s still welcome is also reasonable.

This is a tough situation for both of them, but she’s in worse position than he is (in all ways, honestly). He still gets the benefit of their social group since his basement is its gathering place. But as she says in “Pinciotti vs. Forman” (4x03): “[Eric] doesn’t, like, get my friends ‘cause he has some stupid, crappy basement.” Why should her friendships with Hyde, Kelso, Fez, and Jackie end because of the breakup? It shouldn’t, so she understandably does what she can to establish a new gathering place.

When she brought Casey to the foreman’s that was also a low blow. While she was in turmoil due to her parents that doesn’t negate her treatment of Eric and rubbing his nose in her new relationship.

Donna acts out passive-aggressively toward Eric in season 4 and uses her relationship with Casey to do most of it. She’s furious that Eric’s need to control her ended their relationship. This doesn’t excuse her behavior, but Eric acts passive-aggressively toward her, too. “Uncomfortable Ball Stuff” (4x07) and “Donna’s Story” (4x08) depict prime examples of this.

Donna and Eric’s relationship isn’t toxic. Eric’s insecurity is – about her independence, her athletic ability, her intelligence, her unwillingness to fill sexist expectations (e.g., she gives up having a career to stay at home and rear her and Eric’s children). Once they break up, Eric and Donna both behave negatively toward each other. Neither is innocent. Neither’s offenses are so horrible that they’re beyond forgiveness.

Eric and Donna are consistently shown to be great at working through their issues, misunderstandings, mistakes, arguments, etc. They do this a lot during seasons 1-3 (save toward the end of season 3). That’s the mark of a healthy relationship. But people aren’t perfect; therefore, relationships won’t be either.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Eric x Donna #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #My Meta #My Essay #Essay #Meta #Ask #redeemingmys3lf

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bride-and-bride · 5 years

Text

Memory

Wrote that fanfic, just as I threatened! It’s about time passing and the Crystal Exarch, and the impressions people leave on you, and some other miscellaneous musings.

Uhhhhhh it’s straight up about Defiant Bride as the Warrior of Light, and contains major MSQ spoilers up tooooooo... about 80? Early 80!

He hadn't realized he'd forgotten her face until someone asked what she looked like. The weight of it hit G'raha Tia in a rush; the guilt, the embarrassment, the disbelief... he was the only one alive who'd seen her face in person, and he couldn't even remember it.

He tried to explain it in his head... she had just been one of many, back then, after Operation Archon. A Warrior of Light, not The. One of many with Hydaelyn's blessing and ties to the Scions. There'd been at least two dozen who'd come along when it came time to explore the tower; people of all races and skills, each blessed with the power to try and fight where normal people couldn't. It was reasonable, he was pretty sure, to forget one face in all that.

It wasn't. It didn't feel right, and he didn't feel better for reasoning it all out. Even if there'd been others, hadn't he spoken the most with her? Challenged her, worked with her? He should be able to close her eyes and see her clear as day, like no time had passed at all.

Or maybe it was the tower? Perhaps his rest had messed with his memories, robbed him of this vital thing, and it wasn't G'raha's fault. Maybe that's just how it was, travelling suspended through time. No one was around to tell him otherwise, so he clung to the idea like a drowning man would to a raft.

It made it strange, then, to piece it together as if he was the same as the others, as if he'd only read about her deeds, heard the stories passed on through the generations as a way to keep the nights a little brighter. Here was a mention of her butting horn to horn with a dragon, and a little piece filled in... Yes, just one horn, the other a stump. Rare in au-ra. Her face wasn't symmetrical. There was mention of the sight of her facing down the Empire's Prince Zenos, the gap in height, and there'd be a trickle... she wasn't tall, looked unassuming, even had a small stance, right up until she drew steel and became a solid guardian to match any other.

It was those moments that he treasured, that calmed him when he faced his plans ahead. He could remember something of her that books couldn't... he had some tiny piece of the Warrior of Light that'd been lost to time.

He didn't really know why that felt important to him, but as he drew up plans with the Ironworks, as they took step after step to the end... it felt important. It felt vital.

It still felt important when he realized when he'd arrived and began to come to terms with the time stretched before him. There were plans to make, yes, but now there was no one but him who knew her at all. He had to remember, or no one would.

---

G'raha privately felt like it was forgetting that had caused the mistake. He didn't have the right image (maybe he never had it), and so when he tried to call to the Warrior, he instead pulled...

...not the warrior of light.

That, he was pretty certain on, fuzzy recollection or not. She'd been significantly less hyuran, for one thing, and definitely not pale.

Not that he wanted to admit the potential source of his failing to Thancred, even after the weeks passed and he came around to something like understanding. It was easier if the man wasn’t completely sure of how he was doing things, if there was some vagueness... he seemed the type to dig into things if given the chance, and he was hardly prepared to explain.

It gave him a unique opportunity, though. For the first time in a hundred years... he could speak to someone from his own world. From his own time, technically, though he knew Thancred came from several years after he'd sealed himself away. Being a man from the First gave him natural cover to ask about the Source and all it's people, and just hearing familiar names and places gave him a comfort he’d been denied for decades.

Thancred didn't mind telling him about Ul'dah and the Scions and Ishgard and Ala Mhigo, and G'raha still felt a little shock of excitement when he'd relayed the information. Yes, he'd known all of it, but there was something so different about hearing it from someone who's been there rather than relayed as history! Thancred was, of course, exceedingly sparse on details on what he'd actually been doing... so sparse that G'raha could only immediately hope he could get the man to do the same in the first, to equal effect.

He never had the chance to ask about the Warrior of Light. Thancred seemed particularly careful with details about the Scions, and her most of all, and when at last he departed the Crystarium, he took any secrets with him.

---

The next two had had many, many more secrets between them. Only one was willing to share any.

Y'shtola saw only in aether, he'd come to learn, and quietly he feared she'd seen something in him that had made her so prickly, so guarded around him. Every time they spoke he had this sense that she was prodding him, dipping in and around his words, seeking to pull out every bit of meaning from even that which went unsaid. It was a bit unsettling, like she was trying to read his mind.

Or perhaps she was just like that? That wasn’t much better... he never quite knew how to handle such direct people, and there’d been a touch of relief when she had worked out what she wanted to do on her own and seen herself out.

Urianger was easier, comparatively. He knew scholars... He was one, even if Rammbroes had to chastise him a bit more than the other Students of Baldesion. The man was a direct disciple of Louisoix and they'd spoken before, long in the past. He had a twisty, secretive personality... and after a bit of conversation, proved to be remarkably fast on the uptake. He'd guessed at a lot more than G'raha had been trying to reveal, and in time it had become clear that they'd do better working side by side than trying to hide things.

He still couldn't quite get himself to ask about the Warrior of Light. Urianger and Y'shtola both were perceptive people, and he didn't want to know what meaning they might glean from untimely curiosity.

---

His third and fourth mistakes he regretted so keenly it made him ache. Alphinaud and Alisaie, the Leveilleur twins, older than he'd last seen them and yet still so young. He felt like they shouldn't have to be part of this fight, like it was wrong of him to snatch mere teenagers to the first.

Of course, he knew exactly what kind of battles they'd been fighting in the Source, and they hadn't deserved to be there, either. And of course, he also knew what they'd accomplished and that if they hadn't been there, things would've gone far worse all around. It didn't entirely soothe his mind.

Nor did the enthusiasm the pair showed in working in the First. Oh, yes, Alisaie had been ready to cut him to ribbons on arrival, and Alphinaud had had dozens of pointed questions and looked so worried he felt extremely bad, but once things had been sorted... Particularly once the twins were together again, and had spoken to Urianger, they were ready to fight at his side. They shouldn’t really have had to fight.

They were talkative.

They admired the Warrior of Light, and he'd realized the first time Alphinaud had brought her up that they saw her the same way G’raha did. They spoke of her with plain admiration, a person they looked up to but a person. She wasn't just a symbol of hope or light, she was their friend. Their partner. (They missed her. They were so worried about her. They hoped she was well, but had to trust she was...)

The desire he'd felt when he scoured the pages of 'Heavensward' finally had a chance at satisfaction, in the tales they shared with him. It was if he had a woodcut, a stark, rough black outline, and he'd added his own details, but here... these two could start adding color.

The warrior of light was a Paladin without peer, winner of some grand tournament in Ul'dah that Alisaie had been extremely disappointed to miss. It was rare, you see, that she could see the woman fight seriously off the battlefield; she was nervous in spars, always afraid of hurting someone more than she planned to

The warrior of light got along with Moogles, Alphinaud had relayed with no small amount of awe, even the ones high in the mountains who faffed about all day making nuisances of themselves. She'd taken to a job as an assistant post moogle, for some reason, and assisted the fuzzy things in restoring some stonework in the Churning Mists that Alphinaud was dying to visit in person.

The warrior of light was kind, they said, in every story and anecdote and tale they shared to keep themselves going. She was strong. She was resilient, and kept going when others could no longer. She was brave, no matter the odds. She would keep going, even without the scions at her side, and she could be trusted to stand tall until the end.

She was Defiant, they said. And G'raha Tia listened, and he pressed his hands against the gates and silently begged them to part and allow him to save her.

---

Three thoughts had run through G'raha's head as he exited the Crystarium, almost certain that his mistake in aim had dropped her no farther than Lakeland.

The first was professional. It was time to be the Crystal Exarch, and to be him so much that she would have no way of guessing that they'd met before, even in passing. He needed her to be on his side, and to understand, and to trust the Crystal Exarch even from their first meeting.

The second was gleeful. A hundred long years and more in slumber in the spires of the crystal tower... years and years and decades and decades of planning and painful decisions and research and mishaps all to save the First. And the Source, and the Warrior, though he couldn't help but think of those as the secondary goals, now. He'd lived here too long and seen too much to not dream of the darkness alongside his people.

The third was a nagging terror, that while he'd gotten it right the last four times... this time he might've fucked it up and dragged the Warrior of Light to the first without any clothing.

He saw Lyna speaking to someone by the gates, refusing them entry, and he felt it before he saw.

She stepped aside, and the Warrior of Light looked up at him.

For a moment his mind went blank. All the planning, the years of preparation all fleeing him for the breadth of a heartbeat.

She was so much smaller than he remembered. Lyna towered over a lot of folks, where as G'raha was usually the toweree, yet he still managed to claim a few inches on her. And she was... Soft, his brain provided, after searching though and discarding a variety of adjectives. He didn't think she was muscular but neither had he recalled her being quite so... rounded.

She met his gaze, and her eyes were mismatched, and he remembered something long forgotten, some centuries old memory nudged free.

"W-we're kind of opposites, have you n-noticed?" She'd asked, as they waited for news on some surveying, sitting side by side on a relatively safe patch of crystal in Mor Dhona. He'd been confused in the moment, but she'd gestured to her eyes and then his own, smiling. "Nearly t-the same color, your right and mine."

And she'd been right. At the time, his Allagan blood still slept, and he'd never noticed they each had a blue eye until she'd pointed it out. There'd been some feeling he'd had, realizing someone had paid that much attention to him... enough to notice something so small.

It came flooding back. She didn't talk much when she was down to business, and people thought her calm and stoic, but it was because of her stutter. She favored a longsword that seemed too big for her, because she'd grown up among Hellsguard and never quite adjusted to having things the right size for her. She didn’t understand magitek in the slightest and her expression was polite and glazed when Cid tried to explain anything. She hid her smile with one hand when she laughed, most of the time, and fiddled with her armor when she was tense, and took her tea so hot that it burned everyone else's mouths.

Defiant Bride, the Warrior of Light.

There was no hint of recognition in her eyes, but he'd been preparing for that for over a hundred years. It was, in fact, what he wanted. It only barely stung.

#ffxiv fanfic #5.0 spoilers #shb spoilers #lil sister defiant #Crystal Exarch #do i need a tag for WoL au? I'm fine I think

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scifrey · 5 years

Video

youtube

In February of 2017 I had the great pleasure of addressing the Grant MacEwan University English Department with a keynote speech titled “Your Voice is Valid.”

This speech was all about Mary Sues, fandom, and marginalized voices, and is a direct response to the negative reactions that media texts receive when they announce a protagonist that is deemed to be a "Mary Sue".

In the intervening years I think the message of my talk has become even more vital to creators, so I thought I’d record a new video of the speech to share with a wider audience.

If you liked this video, you can find more of my writing advice on my website.

Read the full speech on Wattpad, or below:

(Text may not match the video exactly as I did alter some of the phrasing.)

My friends, I have a declaration to make. A promise. A vow, if you will. And it is this:

If I hear one more basement-dwelling troll call the lead female protagonist of a genre film a ‘Mary Sue’ one more time, I’m going to scream.

I’m sure you’ve all seen this all before. A major science fiction, fantasy, video game, novel, or comic franchise or publisher announces a new title. Said new title features a lead protagonist who is female, or a person of color, or is not able-bodied, or is non-neurotypical, or is LGBTQA+.

It might be the new Iron Man or Spider-man, who are both young black teenagers in the comics now, or the Lt. Michael Burnham of Star Trek: Discovery, or the new Ms. Marvel, a Muslim girl. It could be Jyn Erso, the female lead of the latest Star Wars film or Chirrut, her blind companion. It could be the deaf FBI Director Gordon Cole from Twin Peaks or Clint Barton from Fraction and Aja’s Hawkeye graphic novel series. It could be Sara, of Dragon Age fame or Samantha Traynor from Mass Effect, both lesbians, or Dorian also from Dragon Age, who is both a person of color and flamboyantly queer. Maybe it’s Lt. Stamets and Dr. Hugh Culber, played by Anthony Rapp of (best known for his time as Mark in Rent) and Wilson Cruz, both open out gay men playing openly out gay men in a romantic relationship in Star Trek Discovery. It could be Captain Christopher Pike, from both the original Star Trek series and the reboot film, who uses a wheelchair and assistive devices to communicate. Or maybe it’s Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, fights with a prosthetic arm in the comics, or Iron Man, whose suit serves as Tony Stark’s ego-tastic pacemaker.

And generally, the audience cheers at this announcement. Yay for diversity! Yay for representation! Yay for working to make the worlds we consume look more like the world we live in! Yay!

But there’s a certain segment of the fan population that does not celebrate.

I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about.

This certain brand of fan-person gets all up in arms on social media. They whine. They complain. They say that it’s not appropriate to change the gender, race, orientation, or physical abilities of a fictional creation, or just protest their inclusion to begin with. They decry the erosion of creativity in service of neo-liberalism, overreaching political-correctness, and femi-nazis. (Sorry, sorry – the femi-“alt-right”).

It’s not realistic. “Women can’t survive in space,” they say, “It’s just a fact.” (That is a direct quote, by the way.) “Superheroes can’t be black,” they say. “Video game characters shouldn’t have a sexual orientation,” unless – it seems - that sexual orientation is straight and the game serves to support a male gaze ogling at half-dressed pixilated prostitutes.

“And strong female characters have to wear boob armor. It’s just natural,” they say.

These fan persons predict the end of civilization because things are no longer being done the way they’ve always been done. “There’s nothing wrong with the system,” they say. “So don’t you dare change it.”

And to enforce this opinion, to ensure that it’s really, really clear just how much contempt this certain segment of the fan population holds for any lead protagonist that isn’t a white, heterosexual, able-bodied, neurotypical, cismale, they do everything they can to tear down them down.

They do this by calling that character a ‘Mary Sue.’

When fan fiction author Paula Smith first used the term ‘Mary Sue’ in her 1973 story A Trekkie’s Tale, she was making a commentary on the frequent appearance of original characters in Star Trek fan fiction. Now, I’m going to hazard that most of these characters existed as a masturbatory avatar – wanna bone Spock? (And, um, you know, let’s face it who didn’t?) They you write a story where a character representing you gets to bone Spock.

And if they weren’t a sexual fantasy, then they were an adventure fantasy. Wanna be an officer on the Enterprise? Well, it’s the flagship of the Starfleet, so you better be good enough to get there. Chekov was the youngest navigator in Starfleet history, Uhura is the most tonally sensitive officer in linguistics, and Jim Kirk’s genius burned like a magnesium flare – your self-representative character would have to keep up to earn thier place on that bridge. This led to a slew of hyper sexualized, physically idealized, and unrealistically competent author-based characters populating the fan fiction of the time.

But inserting a trumped-up version of yourself into a narrative wasn’t invented in the 1970s. Aeneas was totally Virgil’s Mary Sue in his Iliad knock off. Dante was such a fanboy of the The Bible that he wrote himself into an adventure exploring it. Robin Hood’s merry men and King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table kept growing in number and characteristics with each retelling. Even painters have inserted themselves into commissioned pictures for centuries.

This isn’t new. This is not a recent human impulse.

But what Paula Smith and the Mary Sue-writing fan ficcers didn’t know at the time was that they were crystallizing what it means to be an engaged consumer of media texts, instead of just a passive one. They had isolated and labelled what it means to be so affected by a story, to love it so much that this same love bubbles up out of you and you have to do something about it, either in play, or in art. For example: in pretending to be a ninja turtle on the play ground, or in trying to recreate the perfect version of a star fleet uniform to wear, or in creating art and making comics depicting your favorite moments or further adventures of the characters you love, or writing stories that encompass missing moments from the narratives.

‘Mary Sues’ are, at their center, a celebration of putting oneself and one’s own heart, and one’s own enjoyment of a media text, first.

Before I talk about why this certain segment of the fan population deploys the term ‘Mary Sue’ the way it does, let’s take a closer look at this impulse for participatory play.

Here’s the sixty four thousand dollar question: where do ‘Mary Sues’ come from?

I’d like you take a moment to think back at the sorts of games you enjoyed when you were about seven years old. Think back. Picture yourself outside, playing with your siblings, or the neighbour’s kids or you cousins. What are you doing? Playing ball games, chase games, and probably something with a narrative? Are you Power Rangers? Are you flying to Neverland with Peter Pan? Are you fighting Dementors and Death Eaters at Hogwarts? Are you the newest members of One Direction, are you Jem and the Holograms or the Misfits? Are you running around collecting Pokémon back before running around and collecting Pokémon IRL was a thing?

That, guys, gals and non-binary pals, is where Mary Sues come from. That’s it. It’s as easy as that.

As a child you didn’t know that modern literary tradition pooh-poohs self-analogous characters, or that realism was required for depth of character. All you knew was that you wanted to be a part of that story, right.  If you wanted to be a train with Thomas and Friends, then you were a train. If you wanted to be a magic pony from Equestria, you were a pony. Or, you know, if you were trying to appease two friends at once, then you were a pony-train.

Self-insert in childhood games teach kids the concept of elastic play, and this essential ability to imagine oneself in skins that are not one’s own, and to stretch and reshape narratives is what breeds creativity and storytelling. It shapes compassion.

Now, think of your early stories. As a child we all told and wrote stories about doing what, to us, were mundane everyday things - like getting ice cream with the fictional characters we know and love.

My friend’s three year old tells his father bed time stories about going on walks through Home Hardware with his friends, the anthropomorphized versions of the local taco food truck and the commuter train his dad takes to work every morning. He doesn’t recognize the difference between real and fictional people (or for him, in this case, the stand-ins that are the figures that loom large in his life right now as a three year old obsessed with massive machines). When you ask him to tell you a story, he talks about these fictions as if they’re real. And he does not hesitate to insert himself into the tale. “I did this. I did that. We went there and then had this for lunch.” He is present in all his own stories because, at this age, he understands the world only from his limited personal POV.

As we grow up, we do learn to differentiate between fantasy and reality. But, I posit that we never truly loose that “me too!” mentality. We see something amazing happening on the screen, or on the page, or on a playing field, and we want to be there, a part of it.

So we sort ourselves into Hogwarts Houses. We choose hockey teams to love, and we wear their jerseys.  We buy ball caps from our favorite breweries. We line up for hours to be the first to watch a new release or to buy a certain smartphone. We collect stamps and baseball cards and first editions of Jane Austen and Dan Brown. We want to be a part of it. Our capitalist, consumer society tells us to prove our love with our dollars, and we do it.

And for fan creators, we want to be a part of it so badly that we’re willing to make more of it. Not for profit, but for sheer love. And for the early writers, the newbies, the blossoming beginners, Mary Sues are where they generally start. Because those are the sorts of stories they’ve been telling yourselves for years already.

But as we get older, as we consume more media texts and find more things to adore, we begin to notice a dearth of representation – you’re not pony trains in our minds any more. We have a better idea of what we look like. And we don’t see it. The glorious fantasy diversity of our childhoods is stripped away, narratives are codified by the mainstream media texts we consume, and people stop looking like us.

I’m reminded of a story I read on Tumblr, of a young black author living in Africa – whose name, I’m afraid, I wasn’t able to find when I went back to look for it, so my apologies to her. The story is about the first time she tried to write a fairytale in elementary school. She made her protagonist a little white girl, and when she was asked why she hadn’t chosen to make the protagonist back, this author realized that it hadn’t even occurred to her that she was allowed make her lead black. Even though she was surrounded by people of color, the adventures, and romance, and magic in everything she consumed only happened to the white folks. She did not know she was allowed to make people like her the heroes because she had never seen it.

This is not natural. This is nurture, not nature. This is learned behavior. And this is hegemony.

No child grows up believing they don’t have place in the story. This is something were are taught. And this is something that we are taught by the media texts we consume.

I do want to pause and make a point here. There isn’t anything fundamentally wrong with writing a narrative from the heterosexual, able bodied, neurotypical, white cismale POV in and of itself. I think we all have stories that we know and love that feature that particular flavor of protagonist. And people from that community deserve to tell their stories as much as folks from any other community.

The problem comes from a reality where when it’s the only narrative. The default narrative. The factory setting. When people who don’t see themselves reflected in the narrative nonetheless feel obligated to write such stories, instead of their own. When they are told and taught that it is the only story worth telling. ‎

There’s this really great essay by Ika Willis, and it’s called “. And I think it’s the one – one of the most important pieces of writing not only on Mary Sues, but on the dire need for representation in general.

In the essay, Willis talks about Mary Sues – beyond being masturbatory adventure avatars for young people just coming into their own sexuality, or avatars to go on adventures with – but as voice avatars. Mary Sues, when wielded with self-awareness, deliberateness, and precision, can force a wedge into the narrative, crack it open, and provide a space for marginalized identities and voices in a media-text that otherwise silences and ignores them.

This is done one of two ways. First: by jamming in a diverse Mary Sue, and making the characters and the world acknowledge and work with that diversity. Or, second: by co-opting a pre-existing character and overlaying a new identity on them while retaining their essential characterization. For example, by writing a story where Bilbo Baggins is non-binary, but still thinking that adventures are messy, dirty things. Or making Sherlock Holmes deaf, but still perfectly capable of solving all the crimes. Or making James Potter Indian, so that the Dursleys prejudiced against Harry not only for his magic, but also for his skin color. Or making Ariel the mermaid wrestle with severe body dysphoria, or Commander Sheppard suffer from severe PTSD.

I like to call this voice avatar Mary Sue a ‘Meta-Sue’, because when authors have evolved enough in their storytelling abilities to consciously deploy Mary Sues as a deliberate trope, they’re doing so on a self-aware, meta-textual level.

So that is where Mary Sues comes from.

But what is a Mary Sue? How can you point at a character and say, “Yes, that is – definitively – a Mary Sue”.

Mary Sues can generally be characterized as:

-Too perfect, or unrealistically skilled. They shouldn’t be able to do all the things they do, or know all the things they know, as easily as they do or know them. For reasons of the plot expedience, they learn too fast, and are able to perform feats that other characters in their world who have studied or trained longer and harder find difficult. For example, Neo in The Matrix.

-They are the black hole of every plot – every major quest or goal of the pre-existing characters warps to include or be about them; every character wants to befriend them, or romance them, or sleep with them, and every villain wants to possess them, or kill them, or sleep with them. This makes sense, as why write a character into the world if you’re not going to have something very important happen to them? So, for example, like Neo in The Matrix.

-A Mary Sue, because it’s usually written by a neophyte author who’s been taught that characters need flaws, has some sort of melodramatic, angsty tragic back-story that, while on the surface seems to motivate them into action, because of lack of experience in creating a follow-through of emotional motivation, doesn’t actually affect their mental health or ability to trust or be happy or in love. For example, like the emotional arc of Neo in The Matrix.

– A Mary Sue saves the day. This goes back to that impulse to be the center of the story. Like Neo in The Matrix.

-And lastly, Mary Sues come from outside the group. They’re from the ‘real world’, like you and I, or have somehow discovered the hero’s secret identity and must be folded into the team, or are a new recruit, or are a sort of previously undiscovered stand-alone Chosen One. Like, for example, Neo in The Matrix.

Now, as I’ve said, there’s actually nothing inherently wrong with writing a Mary Sue. Neo is a Mary Sue, but The Matrix is still a really engaging and well written film. And simply by virtue of the fact that an individual with ingrained cultural foundations is writing a story, that story is inherently rooted in that writer’s lived life and experiences. As much as a writer may try to either highlight or downplay it, each character and story they create has some of themselves in it. The first impulse of storytelling is to talk about oneself. We write about ourselves, only the more we write, the more skilled we become at disguising the sliver of us-ness in a character, folding it into something different and unique. We, as storytellers, as humans, empathize with protagonists and fictional characters constantly – we love putting our feet into other people’s shoes. It’s how we understand and engage with the world.

And we as writers tap into our own emotions in order to describe them on the page. We take slices of our lives – our experiences, our memories, our friend’s verbal tics or hand gestures, aunt Brenda’s way of making tea, Uncle Rudy’s way having a pipe after dinner, that time Grannie got lost at the zoo – and we weave them together into a golem that we call a character, which comes to life with a bit of literary magic. I mean, allow me to be sparklingly reductionist for a second, but in the most basic sense, every character is a Mary Sue.

It’s just a matter of whether the writer has evolved to the point  in their craft that they’ve learned to animate that golem with the sliver of self-ness hidden deep enough that it is unrecognizable as self-ness, but still recognizable as human-ness.

For years, mainstream western media has featured characters that were primarily heterosexual, able bodied, neurotypical, white cismales. And, regrettably, because of that, this flavor of human is now assumed to be the default for a character. When people from other communities speak up requesting other flavours, for characters for whom the imbedded sliver of humanity remains just as poignant and relatable, but the outer shell is of a different variety, this is when that certain segment of the fan population looses their cool.

That certain segment of the fan population has been telling us for years that if we don’t like what we see on TV or in video games, or in books, or comics, or on the stage, that we should just go make our own stuff. And now we are.

“Make your own stuff,” they say, and then follow it up with: “What’s with all this political correctness gone wild? Uhg. This stuff is all just Mary Sue garbage.”

Well, yes. Of course it is. That’s the point.

But why are they saying it like that?

Because they mean it in a derogatory sense.

They don’t mean it in the way that Paula Smith meant it – a little bit belittling but mostly fun; a bemused celebration of why we love putting ourselves into the stories and worlds we enjoy. They don’t mean it the way that Willis means it – a deliberate and knowing way to shove the previously marginalized into the center. They don’t even mean it the way that I mean it in my own work - as a tool for carefully deconstructing and discussing character and narrative with a character and from within a narrative.

When a certain segment of the fan population talks about ‘Mary Sue’, they mean to weaponize it. To make it a stand-in for the worse thing that a character can be: bland, predictable, and too-perfect. Which, granted, many Mary Sues are. But not all of them. And a character doesn’t have to be a Mary Sue to be done badly, either.

When this certain segment of the fan population says ‘Mary Sue’, they’re trying to shame the creators for deviating from the norm - the white, the heterosexual, the able bodied, the neurotypical, the straight cismale.

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “I don’t believe people like this are interesting enough to be the lead character in a story.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “I don’t think there’s any need to listen to that voice. They’re not interesting enough.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “This character is not what I am used to a.k.a. not like me, and I’m gonna whine about it.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “Even though kids from all over the world, from many different cultural, religious and ethnic backgrounds have had to grow up learning to identify with characters who don’t look or think like them, identifying with characters who don’t look or think like me is hard and I don’t wanna.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: ”Even though I’ve grown up in a position of privilege and power, and even though publishing and producing diverse stories with diverse casts doesn’t actually cut into the proportionate representation that I receive, and never will, I am nonetheless scared that I’ll never see people like me in media texts ever again.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “Considering my fellow human beings as fellow human beings worthy of having stories about them and their own experiences, in their own voices, is hard and I don’t wanna do it.”

When this certain segment of the population says ‘Mary Sue,’ what they’re really saying is: “I only want stories about me.”

They call leads ‘Mary Sues’ so people will stop writing them and instead write… well, their version of a ‘Mary Sue.’ The character that is representative of their lived experiences, their power and masturbatory fantasies, their physical appearance, their sexual awakenings, their cultural identity, their voice, their kind of narratives.

Missing, of course, that the point of revisionist and inclusive narratives aren’t to shove out previous incarnations, but to coexist alongside them. It’s not taking away one entrée and offering only another – it’s building a buffet.

Okay, so who actually cares if these trolls call these diverse characters Mary Sues?

Well, unfortunately, because this certain segment of the population have traditionally been the group most listened-to by the mainstream media creators and the big money, their opinions have power. (Never mind that they’re not actually the biggest group of consumers anymore, nor no longer the most vocal.)

So, this is where you come in.

You have the power to take the Mary Sue from the edge of the narrative and into the centre. And you do can do this by normalizing it. Think back to that author who didn’t think little black girls were allowed to be the heroes of fairy tales. Now imagine how much different her inner world, her imagination might have been at the stage when she was first learning to understand her own self-worth, if she had seen faces like hers on the television, in comics, in games, and on the written page every day of her life.

And not just one or two heroes, but a broad spectrum of characters that run the gamut from hero to villain, from fragile to powerful, from straight to gay, and every other kind of intersectional identity.

You have the power to give children the ability to see themselves.

Multi-faceted representation normalizes the marginalized.

And if you have the privilege to be part of the passing member of the mainstream, then weaponize your privilege. Refuse to work with publishers, or websites, or conventions that don’t also support diverse creators. Put diverse characters in your work, and do so thoughtfully and with the input of the people from the community you are portraying. And if you’re given the opportunity to submit or speak at an event, offer to share the microphone.

The first thing I did when actor Burn Gorman got a Twitter account was to Tweet him  my thanks for saving the world in Pacific Rim while on a cane. As someone who isn’t as mobile as the heroes I see in action films - who knows for a fact that when the zombie apocalypse comes I will not be a-able to outrun the monsters – it meant so much to me that his character was not only an integral and vital member of the team who cancelled the apocalypse, but also that not once in the film did someone call him a cripple, or tell him he couldn’t participate because of his disability, or leave him behind.

Diversity matters.

Not because it’s a trendy hashtag, or a way to sell media texts to a locked-down niche market, but because every single human being deserves to be told that they have a voice worth listening to; a life worth celebrating and showcasing in a narrative; a reality worth acknowledging and accepting and protecting; emotions that are worth exploring and validating; intelligence that is worth investing in and listening to; and a capacity to love that is worth adoring.

White, heterosexual, neurotypical, able-bodied cismales are not the only people on the planet who are human.

And you have a right to tell your story your way.

Calling something a ‘Mary Sue’ in order to dismiss it out of hand, as an excuse to hate something before even seeing it, is how the trolls bury your Narrative and your Identity.  We are storytellers, all of us. Every person in this room. Whether your wheel house is in fiction, or academia, or narrative non-fiction, we impart knowledge and offer experience through the written word, through the telling of tales, through leading a reader from one thought to another.

And we none of deserve to be shouted down, talked over, or dismissed. No one can tell you that your story isn’t worth telling. Of course it is. It’s yours.

And don’t let anyone call your characters, or your work, or you a ’Mary Sue’ in the derogatory sense ever again. Or I am going to scream.

#J.M. Frey #Words for Writers #Writing Advice #Writing Community #writer #am writing #voice #how to #writblr #writeblr

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