#tercesverse

“A Striking Couple” -

To me, one of the most interesting parallels between ASOUE and the Secret Series is how the main antagonist is written.

Both Count Olaf and Ms. Mauvais are introduced as plain, absolute evil who will stop at nothing to get what they want. They are devoid of compassion, self-centered, manipulative, controlling, and always careful to set up a glamorous, awe-inspiring image of themselves. Plus, they're super creepy toward children and have ridiculously over-complicated schemes.

But the way they freak out when they're upset hints early on that their mental health might not be the best. And then, we suddenly learn about their past and realize that they, too, are human.

They were children taken by a cult that taught them their needs didn't matter, and their only purpose in life was to serve said cult. Most likely, they have suffered from trauma: Olaf's parents were murdered by the people he grew up with, including the love of his life. And Ms. Mauvais lost her family at an early age, leaving her with Itamar as her only human connection. He made her grow dependent on him and put her through constant emotional abuse.

At some point, they must have fallen for the convenient delusion that one accomplishment will magically relieve them from their pain. For Ms. Mauvais, it's immortality and power. For Olaf, it's vengeance on the Baudelaires. They sacrifice anything and everything to achieve this, to the point where they lose their grip on reality. And when they finally realize they'll never succeed, they choose death because they can't possibly live with themselves.

These kids are so fucking dumb I love them so much 🥺

He’s never not around, not even when I was a baby. But he swears he isn’t family.

My earliest memory; I was maybe only two, maybe three?

He was dressed in a black tuxedo, and his hat shadowed over his face.

I’d asked him,

“What’s your name?” “Are you family?” “Wanna play with me?” “Why don’t you talk?”

And he got angry with every question.

“Shh!” He said,

“Play by yourself.” He shooed at me,

“Don’t talk to me again.” He waved me away,

“You cannot see me.”

I keep quiet when my parents are around.

My teachers don’t know a thing.

But that man is real.

Sometimes he looks like a ghost, fading in and out of space.

Sometimes he’s uncannily handsome, but I never like when he is.

Sometimes his hands are stained red, or black, and sometimes he wears white gloves.

He changes so much, but I always know it’s him.

Others have people like him too.

People nobody can see or hear,

But I can.

They’re usually nice to me, but He doesn’t let me talk to them.

Nobody can know what I know.

“It would put you in danger,” He says, “if anyone were to discover how special you are.”

I’ve never known the feeling of being alone.

I have no friends, but he keeps me company.

Even when he isn’t where I can see, I know he can’t be far.

After all these years,

14 years,

He still

won’t

tell me

his