#volt's library

[Briefly, but Exhaustively, to Clarify]

Before any discussion of BPD, then Violet’s deconstruction, a few things.

One. No, I’m not outright diagnosing Violet with BPD. She isn’t diagnosed in the game. I’ve not heard anything by Telltale or anyone associated remark BPD either. None of the schoolkids, for the matter, are diagnosed because it’s not that kind of story. The most we’re given is a narrative that explores their patterns in behavior, and then one…“diagnosis” with Willy. That being the, uh, chronic masturbation. (No, I did not think masturbation would be included in this discussion, but here we are. Thanks, you bug-eyed child.) Even then, however, that was likely a symptom of a larger issue with Willy.

Instead, I like this character. I see a lot of myself in this character, recognize the patterns she exhibits, and I’m hardly the first to associate Violet with BPD—since though she’s not diagnosed…, she is a little bit textbook. I’ve also seen a lot of the fandom misinterpret, preemptively judge, Violet for the things she does.

And I don’t mean the confusion and betrayal players feel should they save Louis over Violet. That reaction is normal. Yes, feel confused and betrayed. Because that’s the intention. What I take issue with, and part of why I’ve wanted to write this for a long while, is the…undertones beneath what is generally said. The opinions, too, that go along with it. All of which, ultimately, feed into the stigma that BPD is so intrenched within. The ignorance, and the refusal to understand both why and how.

So I do this through Violet because I adore TWDG, I’m in a TWDG mood, and, she is actually a phenomenal example to use for discussions around BPD. No, she’s not canonically diagnosed, but, it is better to explain a character by using a researched concept, just as much as it’s easier to explain said concept through a fictional example.

…and myself.

This essay will have a lot of commentary based around my experiences. A lot of this disorder’s stigmatization makes it difficult to find good information to understand what it does—specifically from the perspective of the borderline personality, not observers—, because…it’s just not the same as ADHD or depression, which have been big talking points within the recent years. I also have ADHD—runs in the family. That said, conversations in mental health has its fair share of stigma regardless, it’s just that BPD…does not help itself, largely due to the concepts I’ll be going over.

Also, I am very similar to Violet, down to how we dress, but also in personality. We’re not the same, but there’s enough where I feel like I can explain a lot of this character in relation to BPD. Because it’s a personality disorder. In similar personalities, the disorder will—more often than not—present itself the same way.

This does lead me to a third: as much as I’d like to say that this discussion will be the absolute, universal truth, the reality is no, this discussion will likely have blind-spots. It won’t be universal. For a myriad of reasons.

BPD is, again, a personality disorder. Its expression is entirely dependent on the personality, and the experiences established. So anyone who is not an indifferent/apathetic person, who is more extroverted and not the marginal recluse that I am, there will be aspects of this that won’t align. The rudimentary concepts may apply, but the expressions and emotional processings behind these concepts may not.

This also bleeds into the fact that BPD overlaps with many conditions, and traits of the disorder can be found elsewhere. Which, quite frankly, is fairly standard for most disorders, because it’s about the expression and amalgamation of the traits, not the traits themselves. So, as I discuss BPD, you’ll likely find yourself relating to certain points.

Do not take this to mean that you yourself have borderline.

Well, okay. You might. There’s nothing wrong with doing research, and to evaluate all of your resources. Keep in mind, however, there is a difference between one condition relating to another, and one BPD relating to a likewise diagnosis.

BPD overlaps with many conditions (like ADHD); it shares many traits in others.

The reasons for it includes how BPD is developed, where the development will be alongside other conditions—like, say, PTSD—, or other conditions may predispose the condition—ADHD—, or, or, both.

And then, some of this relatability is due to language. There are limitations in the words I choose, especially when this essay is intended for a wider audience. When I say, I go from 0 to 100, you may know precisely what I’m putting down, or, your 0 to 100 is my 0 to 10. And there will be that barrier in understanding because…we’re different people, with different experiences, living alongside different conditions.

Some of you reading will just never understand what it means to get whiplashed by your emotions at the drop of a dime, where you’re perfectly fine one minute, and then you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack the next because someone said something, and you don’t understand why it hurt you the way it did, but it did, and you’ve already lost your shit, but you don’t want to do anything, but you can’t trust that you won’t… All…with the guilt that it is happening again, and you should have known better, and it’s all your fault…

Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t understand what that’s like. And to be quite blunt, if you don’t, be grateful. BPD isn’t fun for anyone. There are slight blessings, but those are gravely overshadowed.

Given that I do expect a lot of people reading this won’t understand, this essay will be exhaustive. I don’t really want to cut corners, even though certain aspects of my experiences will be kept to myself, and not everything about this disorder can be related to a video game character.

I do want to give it its due. The drafts before fell into the trap of not articulating precisely what I wanted, with the transparency I needed.

…hence why it’s long, but with that, let’s start with understanding BPD at its core.

[BPD, in Experience, as an Introduction]

So. Borderline Personality Disorder.

Boiled down, it is purely the complete lack of, or, the severe impairment of emotional regulation.

That’s it.

That is literally all it is. And in understanding that, it explains (in part) how and why many of you may relate to certain aspects throughout this essay—emotions, and the (dys)regulation thereof, are integral to each and every one of us.

However, BPD is distinct, and I will comb through the how and why in this section. It is quite simplistic when boiled down, but this synopsis implicates everything about a person.

It is also. Not. Bipolar Disorder.

(Yeah, let me just kick this out of the way.) 

Bipolar Disorder is about the brain chemistry, and is defined by manic and depressive swings.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a disorder of the personality. It’s systemic to the person. Could someone with BPD also have bipolar? Well, yes, which doesn’t help in the confusion, but to be the least bit informative, those instances often imply a specific BPD type (comorbid).

[Further resources will be linked at the end, for the BPD types, relationship with bipolar, and additional elements to come. For the sake of the essay, I won’t delve into this in-depth.]

This nuance—comorbid-BPD and bipolar—illustrates how complicated of a conversation BPD is. Again, it’s why this essay will be exhaustive, but also selective in what it covers.

Including, but not limited to, this kind of nuance.

To embark what a severe impairment/lack of emotional regulation means, it’s important first to establish the working definition of what emotions are—the definition, at least, which this essay utilizes.

Emotions are the reactionary senses of the body. Where sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing are the immediate feedback from the environment to the body, the emotions are the immediate responses to the stimuli, to prompt our actions thereafter.

Our relationship to our emotions is a very complicated one, because…we physically feel our emotions, which can be conflated with the feedback from our environment. Comprehension is also required to understand what, exactly, these emotions are signaling to us, because an environment isn’t just physical. Social, cultural, and psychological environments are included. 

If you ever wonder what, exactly, a dog with the intelligence of a 3-year-old actually means, it’s their comprehension level of their emotions. These dogs are feeling the same emotions as a 3-year-old, and a 30-year-old. But there’s a catch: dogs don’t do the whole language acquisition thing like we do. Language acquisition being the learning process we undergo in our youth, because we are wired to speak and derive meaning through vocal, then visual, patterns.

I say this because a lot of emotions are, physically, perceived the same way, but we use language to distinguish one from another because contexts do matter. And they matter a lot.

Like, what’s the difference between lust and common excitement? They both feel similar, don’t they? But, lust is specific to a defined context.

And in this way, language absolutely contributes to the complexity of emotions.

But ultimately, emotions are just there to tell you what comforts you, and what doesn’t. It establishes what kind of environment you feel safe within, or at risk; the gradient within that establishes what you prefer, what you can tolerate. So the places you go to. The people you surround yourself with. Your interests. Activities. How you want to present yourself. Your morals, and ambitions. Identity and sense of self.

All of it is prompted by emotion, and your comprehension of that—ultimately through language—establishes how you respond.

How we actually navigate this is through regulation. Or rather, the process of self-comprehension, where an individual has to evaluate a situation, their internal reaction to such stimuli (both in thought and feelings), and the appropriate behavioral response. Dysregulation, then, is where that process is faulty.

So as we mature into adulthood, and our learned behaviors are set in stone (more or less; old dog, new trick or something), we’ve ideally learned how to comprehend these emotions, how to use language to articulate them and relay them to others, and find what is comfortable and what isn’t.

People get in the way of themselves, however.

For some fucking reason, we think we’re so fucking smart because we can talk, and we got thumbs, and we, like, stand on two feet. Or if we don’t got two fucking feet, we can build a wheely chair to sit our asses down.

And? We like to convince ourselves that we know better than our emotions, to the point where they’re disregarded. Of course, social contexts, understanding how your actions may impact others—those are all nuances which, yes, our emotions may not respect, but we do.

In regards to when people refuse to acknowledge emotions for what they are…

Piece of advice, from someone with BPD, emotions run like rivers. You do not decide what that river’s water is, how much there will be, and when it will flood. What you can decide is what canals to dig to retroactively contain that river, when to do that, and to establish how to treat the different flooding waters. You will drown if you think you can just ignore them.

Because the funny thing about water? If you fall high enough, land the wrong way, you might as well have hit stone.

In this way, emotions are devastating, and the mind and body has many mechanisms to deploy should an individual be constantly bombarded, and there is a need to prioritize our primary senses—touch, smell, sight… To prioritize a survival.

Take DID, for instance, where often it’s the mind “divorcing” itself into several identities in order to protect and shield the host from further trauma. There are many, many disorders like this where the brain deploys its failsafe, but that failsafe comes at a price.

BPD is, effectively, what happens when one of these mechanisms deploy, but the cost cripples an integral function to the human experience. It cripples the capability to dig those canals, redirect those rivers, and it can even imply a blindness to what kind of water is flooding.

…in many respects, this implies that BPD is, inherently, a disorder rooted in other conditions, just set to the absolute extreme. But when I say “absolute extreme” to someone who has never experienced emotional turmoil, the wrong impression may be impressed. Again, much of what I say may relate to your own experiences, and it’s why I have to take great care in articulating precisely what I mean because…it can be easily misinterpreted. Everybody has had moments where they are not in control of what they feel, and they do things. However, while the instances may look the same, the mechanisms, patterns and history behind them…are not.

Hence why BPD and bipolar are so often confused, because at the height of those disorders, it can very well look the same. I have had manic episodes that look identical to someone in a bipolar episode within one moment. But the differences are the mechanisms, patterns, and history. For these two disorders, it’s what’s actually going on in the brain, what stimuli we’re actually reacting to, and then timeframe. Mania in bipolar can last months; in me, I plummet into mania for minutes, or hours, or days—a week at most. And I can rocket right back out of it, back to an indifference, or into some other extreme.

And those mechanisms, and patterns, and histories are what make BPD, well, BPD. 

We now get to how BPD happens. And though there is some debate, BPD is a developmental disorder. It’s created.

Through a number of factors. Genetics (like a family history), accompanying conditions (such as ADHD, autism, due to the predisposition to emotional dysregulation), past experiences of trauma, and, the environment.

And that’s the footnote version. Because this disorder, while there are strong patterns observed across diagnosed individuals, again has its nuances. Going into what causes BPD will lead you down a steep rabbit hole—in part because it’s dependent on the person, history, and environment, and in part because…, well, there is stigma, and there’s a lot of unknowns. Borderline, as a name, is not telling of what the disorder is. There’s a long misogynistic history to the disorder’s criteria, despite the fact that there’s a lot of men out there that have stunted their emotions, will fly off the handle when their egos are slightly bruised, call themselves alphas, are vehemently loyal to that alpha identity…

Hm.

That’s a discussion for another day. Point being, I cannot indulge this essay into every kind of way a person can land themselves with the disorder. It’s never ending. I have other priorities to indulge. Such as:

What kind of abuse is commonly attributed to BPD?

The answer? For such a volatile personality?

Neglect.

Funny, isn’t it? How neglect—the absence of—is what often causes BPD, of all things. Most would likely scoff, because our world has groomed the idea that the other kinds are worse, and are what creates monsters. Because it doesn’t make good tv, does it? Like the times where I was sat in time-out for…some reason or another, on a bench beside a chalkboard. Upwards to 10 hours of the day—which is a long time at three years old. That doesn’t make for interesting scenes, does it?

No. And because it doesn’t, and stories like their spectacle, media relies on the other kinds. To the point now where it’s necessary for our idled attention spans.

To be clear, this isn’t to demote abuse types outside of neglect, nor is it to insinuate that they cannot coexist within one circumstance. The fact of the matter is, different traumas with different people in different environments will lead to different conditions. There is no worth in proving to each other which trauma is worse or better, because it’s entirely dependent on the people and environment(s) involved.

What I will demote is the common, ignorant insinuation that neglect doesn’t destroy a person.

It’s why it is ironic, how BPD—an explosive thing—is often born from neglect.

How it does such a thing is…complicated. Lucky for this essay, I’ve lived it.

Within the first handful of years in my life, there were many things like sitting on that stupid bench in my room, for hours upon hours. My parents, at the time, were young themselves and fresh from college. My dad was in the military, so he had been deployed, leaving my mom alone with me, and…her BPD. I suspect postpartum made things worse.

Before you assume, it isn’t that she didn’t love me. Quite the opposite, but it was only through the divorce a few years later was she diagnosed. So, she didn’t have the resources for such a disorder at the time. Which made things worse, because part of treating BPD is being aware you have it.

The thing about these kinds of abuse is that…they come from the people you least want to admit, and for me, it had been my own mother.

And, the thing about neglect, especially mine, is that it’s hard to explain how no…, she was home. It wasn’t like she’d leave me like that. But, even so, I couldn’t tell you what the fuck she was doing when she wasn’t in the same room.

I was left to my own devices. I told myself stories with my stuffed animals to pass the time. I was often hungry too, and there are two accounts from family where, upon visiting, they saw this little toddler know how to work the baby-gate to the kitchen, and start to prepare food—sandwiches for me, and I’d pour food for the dog.

I seldom spoke, was borderline mute. Didn’t really converse until four. But I knew what people were saying before that. I did also pick-up behaviors from my dog as well; I would pant whenever I was happy, and whimper instead of cry.

By the tail-end, as I was getting into kindergarten, my brother was born, the divorce was in motion, and my dad would thankfully win full custody, and my mom, visitation.

You see, through those initial years, those mechanisms deployed.

I had to swallow down the instinct that the parent would be the one to nurture, and I had to find ways to feed myself, then my best friend and true guardian—the dog. Had to learn how to work things like a baby-gate. I also had to be vigilant of her, and know what mood she was in.

It’s these two things, working together, which utterly fractured me emotionally. The feeling of being hungry, truly hungry, is not something I wish for anyone. The realization that it’s not because you’re out of food—not until the separation began, and the weekends with my mom were marked by this hunger—, but because you don’t know how to get that food, and the bigger person is not getting the food, so you try to learn but you are still a small child… It’s even worse. It does something to you. Then, having to sacrifice your own emotional nourishment in order to keep an eye on an adult’s volatility is that final nail.

That was the first stage of my neglect. And it was bad. It was a really, really bad situation. My brother only lived with my mom for a couple years before Dad’s full custody. In that time, from when our mother was the only one to take care of us with my dad helpless in a different country, then to switching every week, he developed OCD tendencies, which are still present.

Twenty years later now, it’s been remarked that I was…kinda the best candidate to survive this out of not just my brother and I, but our cousins as well. And I agree. I’m naturally reserved, and even as a kid, I would push back against my mom. It would ignite her, but the fact that I was confrontation said enough. Meanwhile…, I do not know how the fuck my brother would be mentally if he’d been the one stuck alone with her for those three, four years. I don’t know what my dad would’ve come back to whenever he was allowed to be with his family.

And I would not trade places if given the chance. Because even if I’m a black sheep, my mechanisms allowed me to get away as well-adjusted as I could be.

But… Still. Beneath those remarks…, there is a misunderstanding. When my family says I was the best candidate, it’s because they look at me and see a person who isn’t sick. When I say I was, I mean…my brother would have been worse off.

Granted, now that I’m out of school, it’s slowly dawned on them that…yeah no. There is something wrong.

…as I aged through childhood, I didn’t quite understand what the costs of the mechanisms deployed were, but I knew there was something very, very wrong even back then. And I would tell my family. Every now and again, throughout years, I’d raise alarm because I realized I reminded myself of my mom.

Only to be told that I wasn’t my mother, and that I was overreacting. Told me that, “People like her don’t know there’s something wrong—that’s the disorder.”

Come a mere few years ago, and I am told about times where my mother, as an adult not long before having me, would break down because she didn’t want to be like my grandmother.

There was a family history. My mother knew it. However, she was also diagnosed through the divorce, because she couldn’t take care of my brother and I. Highly doubt admitting her BPD was the reason was because “she didn’t know there was something wrong.”

I was told there was nothing wrong. Meanwhile, I would do things I didn’t understand, and experience the world in a way people around me didn’t, …as it turns out.

For one, which is still true now, I cannot cook for myself, in a kitchen, when it’s dark out. I also cannot cook when someone else is nearby, or already in the kitchen itself. I will wait, because should I cook in those times, there’s a feeling. And I can’t stand it. The feeling of—

Oh. No, the feeling isn’t being watched. 

It’s the feeling where someone may be lurking, and I’m about to get caught. This is likely a remnant of times when I was very, very young, and I tried to feed myself, and I…was caught. And she blew up.

There are other behaviors like that, specific to me. Because the body remembers before you yourself.

In the years after my mom, I found myself in the second phase of neglect—the one, I argue, is what actually creates BPD.

And again. For another time. It came from the people I least want to admit.

The neglect, the denial, in every alarm I raised did something to me. Another thing, though given my experiences, it also did feel similar to the first phase. My family loves me, I understand, and I get why they denied. Because they knew about what was happening to me, then my brother, but circumstances had them trapped in watching from afar. A sort of…they didn’t get to me in time. 

My mom was also a nightmare for my dad. So…, to see that resemblance is not something anybody wants to admit.

But still. I was in therapy (to socialize me), but that didn’t last forever, and people kinda just shrugged and thought it was good. The therapy did its job. Without noticing what was happening.

The mechanism that deployed was still there, never to be acknowledged. So it festered. It scarred my trauma over, and now, there’s a great blemish on my mental health. 

And that blemish has a name, and it’s BPD—the disorder cultivated by the neglect of an aftermath. Where trauma struck, and there was no chance given to process it effectively, and to heal.

All of the nuances I’ve discussed before remain to be true. From what I understand, however, is that the primary reason why Borderline Personality Disorder can look so differently on so, so many people, through a range of traumas is…it’s consequence. BPD has its characteristics, the ones that distinguish, because ignoring the recovery after significant trauma presents itself the same.

Now, I’ll indulge in one of these characteristics.

It wasn’t until recent, as I embarked my adulthood, where I realized the core mechanism I had inadvertently deployed, the one that came with a price:

Alexithymia.

Or, emotional blindness.

This in itself is not considered a disorder, largely because (and for the sake of this essay) it is an associated symptom, a mechanism, of many, many conditions. Depression, PTSD, eating disorders, ADHD and autism (again), schizophrenia, and I can go on, and on, and on.

BPD is included, of course.

There are many ways to be blind. Take visual blindness, where it can be an absolute void, a severe impairment, some colors recognized but not all, or, there’s too much feedback at once, and the light becomes illegible. Being devoid of emotions, or apathetic, is the standard; some people may feel a perpetual onslaught that cannot be deciphered, and others could find themselves in between.

Whatever it may be, alexithymia is characterized as the impaired awareness, explicit identification, and/or articulation of one’s feelings. So, as long as the shoe fits, and the person can’t decipher, convey/express their emotions… That shoe’s not on the wrong foot.

In my case, I fall into the standard.

When I was young, I likely stifled my own emotions in exchange for vigilance. It never left, however. If anything, it got worse the more I neglected recovery. Now, I don’t feel much, day to day. I know I experience emotion, and react to my environment, and have thoughts… Yet, the environment is almost dreamlike. It doesn’t quite register, and the people in my life feel like figments unless I’m right there with them, in the same room. I’m indifferent to most. Memories are a lot like this too—not like I don’t remember anything at all, but in the moment, I kinda just exist. I can think and plan about the future too, but it’s that I’ve realized I have to, not that I feel any kind of urgency.

Because I don’t care. At all.

Or, I do, but there’s nothing in here to tell me that. Because my body, also, is quite null. It doesn’t tell me what I feel. I couldn’t tell you in the moment, so I’ll usually resort to, “I’m fine.” And inside this head of mine? Not much. Kinda like static—the tv is on, there’s a lot of channels going, but it’s just…not there. Beyond static.

So as I write this, and write any of my works, it's less of spilling all the crazy thoughts inside my head, organizing them, and more of me spilling an open wound I don't know how to close, figured I don't really want to close it, because I kinda just like watching it spill across the page and see what I'm thinking, and what I can create.

To be quite honest, being a writer in this way does legitimately feel like I'm a blind sculptor.

If all this sounds like a depressing experience, I'm fine. Genuinely. I am. This is actually quite comfortable for me, and it's also me at my most rational. Plus, it helps that I've developed a fairly strong coping means—this writing thing—that serves to be a therapy in emotional comprehension. Another mechanism, really, that is derivative of what I did as a toddler.

I'm also a hermit. I'm content with being reclusive, and to myself.

And again, I’ve already processed all of this. I wouldn’t be writing this essay otherwise.

So how does alexithymia relate to BPD? In what way is being apathetic mean I can fly off the handle?

What does alexithymia mean for an episode?

BPD episodes vary. Depends on the person, and a trigger, and the environment.

In the traditional a switch is flipped, and the person just loses it, it’s via said trigger. A legitimate trigger, not whatever TikTok is blabbering. Trigger as in to a gun, and it just takes one pull, and you’ve been set off.

When this happens—BPD or not—, it effectively shuts down the reasoning part of the individual’s brain, and sends them straight into fight-or-flight. They are in a very primal state, and will react on emotion alone.

In BPD, our brains are wired to do that in (potentially) a very, very short period of time. Can be literally a blink and you miss it. There’s a look in the eye. If you know, you know. It happens enough times to establish a history of this within the person. Forces people to walk on egg shells to avoid this. Because it’s scary. It can get scary.

Here’s the thing:

It’s scary for us too.

Not too long ago, a lot of changes happened in my life, and on my birthday, I was driving, and I wanted, so badly, to just swerve off the road and down into the woodland—the ditches would’ve been steep enough. Woke up that day wanting to. Didn’t understand why, but I also wasn’t asking because that reasoning part of my brain was switched off. That day, the episode wasn’t explosive, but had I brushed upon a trigger, or someone accidentally said/did something, it would likely have been the case.

I was in an agitated state—straying down the line between stability, and not, where at first glance I’m fine, but…the more you look, there’s something quite wrong.

I was also craving McDonald’s. So I went. I sat myself down on my own, and ate my food.

And suddenly… Literally nothing was wrong. Well, no. I was still mildly stressed from moving from college, but, nothing was wrong that day. I was just hungry, not suicidal. Yet…it felt like I was. Had me believe it for a hot minute.

Had I not had the burger, fries, and McFlurry… I don’t know. Had I had access to something swifter than a car. I really don’t know.

This is what the disorder does. This is why it’s scary for the people around, and terrifying for us.

And in those like me, where everything is null, until it isn’t, it’s terrifying in a specific way. Goes from 0 to 100. Can get to the point where I have pain shooting down my arms, like I’m about to have a heart attack, because everything comes down upon me at once. Or, in episodes like the one I just mentioned, it creeps up on you—that agitated state. To the point where I don’t realize I’m in it, just that I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything, and there is something wrong, but I am not asking why because I can’t. So I just do. Quite blindly. And eat because driving off a road is too much effort.

So it gets scary. In those like me, where emotions just aren’t registering, I can’t tell you what I’m feeling until after the fact, or after considerable thought. Which is also fucking difficult because I don’t rightly know what I’m thinking. But given the situation, that could be too fucking late. And if the situation has me alone, to myself?

With BPD, there are triggers we know to avoid because they are related to traumas. There are things that wouldn’t normally trigger, but somehow did because they were the straw that broke the camel’s back, and we didn’t even know we had a fucking camel. And then. Sometimes. We don’t even know what the fuck the trigger was, and will never know.

The last is very common when we’re unaware of our BPD, but…it also just happens sometimes as well. The world’s big. The shit life yeets is limitless. I dunno.

There’s also a humiliation to an episode. I don't know what's going on. I can't reason like I should, and I don't want you to look at me. I want you gone, especially if I have deemed you the trigger. I want to be left alone. Things will escalate, and escalate, and escalate until that is achieved.

And, there’s a guilt as well. Especially when you know you have BPD, because by then, you should know better, but apparently, you don’t.

This all sounds quite helpless, I realize. However, there’s a reason why talk therapy is the central form of treatment for BPD. Knowing how to communicate does wonders. For those with borderline, learning how to comprehend and articulate emotions, and knowing what triggers to avoid, is a long, arduous process, but it helps. In regulating emotions as best we can, and in explaining to people beforehand what to do—or after the fact, where it’s to explain it wasn’t their fault.

And for those without BPD? Being able to recognize the warning signs on a person is detrimental. Because, believe it or not, there are warning signs. Sometimes they could be the split-second before, however, if there is someone in an agitated state, knowing what that looks like means you know how to avoid an episode, and it gives room to be able to console the person beforehand.

As said. There’s a look in the eyes. I know, because that’s what I spent my first few years of life figuring out.

The arduous process also unveils the…ambiguous sides to BPD. The stuff that people don’t really talk as much, whenever BPD is brought to the table at all. 

For this essay, I will spare a glance at identity. No, identity doesn’t have much to do with Violet. However, acknowledging this ambiguous side to BPD establishes just how far this disorder goes, and it tends to crop up when least expected. (It will do so in this essay.)

A disorder of emotional regulation implicates everything, and sense of self is guided by emotion.

So what happens to one’s identity if there’s no guide to that sense of self?

It’s bleak. Or there’s a turbulence. Either way, it’s hard to decipher what exactly you want out of life, and for yourself, because there’s just no good way to tell what makes you comfortable, and what doesn’t. But you still strive to find stability. So you mirror those around you. To blend in and be accepted. By chance, it can extend beyond humans; me mimicking my dog—panting when I’m happy, whimpering when I’m sad—, it was probably so that my dog would console me when my mom wasn’t around. Because my dog (a lovely boxer) was very attuned to me.

The conversation with identity is…just another complicated thing. And this one is harder to articulate, in part because it’s not really discussed by people who don’t have the disorder. As opposed to the mood swings.

All that to say, when it comes to this analysis, the truth is, there’s not a feasible way to explore the nuances such as Violet’s relationship with identity, or alexithymia, because they aren’t spoken aloud to give us enough insight, and by proxy, these aspects of BPD are not what Violet represents. But acknowledging such nuances provides a better understanding in what this disorder means.

Regardless, Violet is a representation BPD in relationships, and the dysfunction of those bonds. How it’s exacerbated within an apocalypse, and then the self-treatment of.

Or, or, Violet has…a tendency to be a wallflower. More or less.

[Ericson's Resident Wallflower]

The Final Season (TFS) is particular when it comes to Violet. It will be evident throughout this essay, the care that the game and the team behind it devoted for her. From the dialogue to her actions, Telltale did well in illustrating this character. I will argue, however, that the quiet intensity in nuance laid throughout is what evoked the need to write this essay.

Because Violet represents something quite thoughtful in regards to mental health—the reality of what a disorder is, and what it can do.

So TFS is particular, and it begins with her introduction, where there’s this need to recontextualize her. Not once, but twice.

Clementine is first introduced to her silently. She follows Marlon out into the courtyard, and Tenn whistles at the wall.

Because on the school’s wall is a girl, and she rises from her lounging at its height. There’s a glance shared between Clementine and Violet, before Clementine speaks more with Marlon. After that, another glance, where Violet turns away—not before the player can spy a bit of intrigue in her face.

Clementine reunites with A.J, meets Louis, before a recontextualization, where Violet (she does talk) snarks about the crashed car, and the walkers that the accident brought to their door.

And it takes Louis to pry a proper greeting from her:

“Ahem. ‘Hello, Clementine. I’m Violet. Nice to meet you.’” “What he said.” [. . .] “Don’t mind Violet. She, uh…, grows on you. I promise.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | School Gate]

Good job, Violet. Way to be sociable.

Sarcasm aside, yeah, it’s a little rough. Violet is overall dismissive of Clementine, save for the comments. To the point where she has Louis introduce her ass.

Now Louis…is a quiet presence throughout this essay, though he is all the more integral to her character. There will be fewer words compared to other relationships, but those words signify a unique dichotomy between him and Violet, one that the other schoolkids—Minnie and Brody included—do not have with her.

And it starts immediately. That dichotomy. Louis is the one who tells Clementine Violet’s name. He is the one who formally introduces the two. Because he knows how Violet is. Ensures to lingers so that he tell Clementine—promise her—how Violet is worth sticking around for.

It’s just that the girl is troubled. So.

Thereafter, his banter is teasing, and Violet is still sardonic. But, she ultimately does play along. In her own way. When in the woods, and the schoolkids are focused on clearing walkers to have Aasim, Brody and Mitch make a safe return, Louis strikes the conversation, Violet scoffs, but can relent depending on the player’s dialogue choice(s). It is important to note that Violet scoffing doesn’t necessarily equate to her being mean; it’s clear through the card game later that…this is her way of banter, with Louis especially. She takes jabs at him. He retorts. Does the same. It’s on equal footing.

The next true recontextualization presents a taste of what Louis means. After clearing the walkers, and A.J socks Marlon, Clementine is left to acquaint herself with the other schoolkids. Mitch and Willy, Omar and Louis, Aasim, Ruby (where A.J apologizes for biting), and Tenn, right alongside Violet.

And those two are tending to the school’s makeshift cemetery. It brief, but Violet explains they lost the twins, and for the hour, they’re paying their respects.

From the wall, then the gate, then here, at their burial ground, it’s as though TFS wanted to scatter Violet’s introduction across her nuances. First it’s a silent couple glances, with her overlooking the courtyard at a perch, then it’s her being a little prick at the gate, a lightheartedness when mowing down walkers, and then it’s…this, a staunch vulnerability to and for her people. In context to the graves, her people being the twins.

All the moments that night thereafter feed into this. The card game goes back to an apathetic, yet also teasing, demeanor. Her shared conversation with Clementine, as A.J becomes an artist draws, it’s again a vulnerability, this time rattled by the fact that the dorm was once the twins’.

Throughout this first episode, Violet’s standing with the rest is shown to be quite reflective of this almost inconsistent preamble.

Marlon is the most succinct when he remarks, in the rain, after Clementine chooses to ask for Violet’s support:

“Violet being difficult. Why am I not surprised?” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Courtyard]

It’s such a blunt statement, intended to dig at her.

Though, there is truth to it. Violet’s introduction overall says as much. She admits it herself when in the dorm, and she finds that Clementine is housed where the twins were.

“Honestly, I just miss having someone around to talk to. [. . .] And I’m not, exactly, like…a people person. You know? I know I sometimes have a habit… Have a habit of being a little bit too harsh.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

Violet is not sociable, so naturally, she struggles to find someone to talk to. But, she is also sardonic—that much we got from the gate, even if it was followed by Louis’ banter which she reciprocates. 

But ultimately, it’s Brody who gives the best context to Violet, and really voices what Louis is getting at.

When Clementine goes fishing, Brody begins a conversation, and within that, she can reveal based off the prompts:

[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

There’s two key things here, starting with the unsociability that Violet’s demeanor and Marlon’s slight reference.

Then, the revelation that Violet has closed herself off. She’s become distant within the past year.

…it implies that the Violet first introduced to us is not truly Violet, in a sense. It presents to the player thatmuch of her arc with Clementine will be about uncovering her, and really bringing Violet from this depressive spiral. Romantically or platonically so. And these lines are intended to both explain the character, and to incite enough intrigue for the player to follow Violet down her route. 

But it’s rather unfortunate that so much of this character is hidden away from the start, because there's the chance that people glance over her, take this initial Violet as Violet, and decide to spend more time with Louis and follow down his route. Because, for the sake of this essay, it's damn near impossible to really appreciate this character when you don't go with her route.

Same can be said for Louis, of course. But, respectfully...

It ain't about him. So. Moving on.

Playing leader.

When Marlon is shot, Violet immediately jumps into action to protect Clementine and A.J from getting jumped by the rest, and she assumes the leadership role. Regardless of player choice. There is an curious point with her being a leader, though that will be set aside to explore later.

Instead, I’ll side-step, and bring about a piece of conversation upon Clementine and A.J’s return. In this, we gather a very telling side of Violet, one that speaks volumes to her character.

[Clementine] “You’re sitting in Marlon’s chair, aren’t you? You’re their leader now. They’ll listen to you.” [Violet] “They don’t, though. They only listen when they want to.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]

Again, we’re side-stepping from the playing leader thing. Violet says that they don’t listen to her—says it like it wasn’t a really a surprise, just a point of frustration. Because, of course, Violet’s difficult. The last leader said so. But also, none of them have stepped up to fill that role. They take issue with her, but none of the schoolkids have really challenged her to take the mantel for themselves.

The silent nuance here is…why is it that she’s the leader? Violet made it seem like she really didn’t want to be at the boarding school—what with the contention between most, then the fact that she’s still in mourning. Tenn appeared like he was the only one keeping her there, but by stepping up in this way, not necessarily.

His presence and her need to protect him is a huge factor. Absolutely. Just not the only one.

We return again to Louis, the one schoolkid with the shared dichotomy. He is the other love interest. Him and Violet are often on opposite sides—especially in regards to everything Marlon.

And yet…, the way they speak about each other when one is taken away says everything about such a dichotomy.

To start, we’ll look at Louis:

“I know I’m always teasing her. Trying to get her to do that one eye roll she does—you know the one. Where it’s like, ‘you’re such a dumbass,’ she has to do a full-body eye roll. I do it because, when I actually do manage to make her laugh, it’s worth it. If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

He brings context as to why their banter is so dogged to tease. Louis does it because it’s reciprocated once he gets under his skin, and she retorts back with the signature full-body eye roll, but also, because he’s striving to reach another side of her, one where she laughs.

Because Louis is a big entertainer. He craves to draw that out from people, so when he has someone like Violet where it’s not easy to do that, it means that much more when she does, because it tells Louis how despite everything, she is there, listening.

Then there’s Violet, and her words for him:

“You know, when I first got here, I hated him. He was so…much. You know? He walks into a room, and it’s like, ‘Look at me! Watch me perform!’ It’s so stupid. But then I realized, under all that, he… He really cares about people, and he doesn’t just feel it, he says it. He’ll tell you every goddamn day how much you mean to him. Shit, he’ll probably sing about it. [. . .] We’ve got to get him back.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

She nods to Louis being this big entertainer. Says that she hated it, and that it’s stupid. And yet, Violet thinks fondly of how genuine of a guy he is.

And between these two quotes, there’s a mastery in storytelling, because there’s an active dialogue between Louis and Violet. Doesn’t matter if one is on the boat, and they’re not. Their words parallel. Had they been in the room together, this would’ve been a back-and-forth.

Louis says that he teases her. Tries to get underneath her skin. Violet says that hated it, and hated him, for his antics. Yet, she then admits that…there’s a genuine nature there, because Louis does care, and he will say and sing it so. That genuine nature is the fact that he just really wants Violet to laugh, and to find that side of her.

Because Violet’s his friend. He values Violet as his protector, because Louis knows that she will be there whenever he desperately needed her.

And Louis is Violet’s friend. Which is why, without a word from Clementine, she states, firmly, that they need to get Louis back. Because in that hour, he was in peril, and he desperately needed Violet’s cleaver at hand.

It’s a tragedy, really, for both. When the other is taken, the one thing that each praise of the other is what’s stolen. For Louis, his knight is blinded; he has to be the one to protect her. For Violet, a comfort goes mute; she can sing in his place.

After spending a few moments with Clementine in the dorm, there’s Ruby’s hootenanny, and through that hootenanny, Violet can tell Clementine what brought her to Ericson’s:

“I spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house growing up, what with my dad being a drunk and my mom working three jobs. But after my grandpa died, Grandma just kinda…shut down. Spent all day and night rocking in her little chair in the den. I’d sit there at her feet as we both watched tv, mostly cartoons, since she never seemed to care. Sometimes I could hear her crying, but I didn’t look back. I’d just feel really weird and turn up the volume, you know? “Anyway, one day she left the den and came back with another chair, and a .22 rifle. Set the rifle butt on top of that chair, holding the barrel back to her chest. So, you know…, she had trouble reaching the trigger this way, but she must have known it would happen… Because she took out this really tacky wooden backscratcher—the real long kind with the one end shaped like a hand—and used that to push the trigger in. So…yeah. Bang, right? Her body folded up and just…kept rocking. “My mom came to get me five hours later. I hadn’t moved. She asked why I didn’t call the police or an ambulance or anything. I just shrugged and told her it wasn’t like Grandma was going anywhere…, and besides, I just wanted to finish my cartoons. She shipped me off to Ericson the next day. I was eleven.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Piano Room]

Through all of what Violet tells Clementine, there is still that flare to make the story more interesting for, you know, a video game. It’s a violent kind of neglect she shares.

But it is neglect all the same.

Violet was born to an alcoholic and a mom who stretched herself thin to compensate, yet even so, she later can admit that their home was a trailer—so the income of three jobs, all her time spent away from her mom, wasn’t enough. Perhaps there were financial troubles. The money might’ve been all drained away by cans of beer, or bottles. Violet did have an escape through her grandparents, though that didn’t last, and she was trapped to the same neglect. This time, with a better house. Probably.

Until her grandmother went and shot herself.

…with Violet in the room. Right behind the child.

And? There was no consolation; she was sent straight to Ericson’s, where the apocalypse then struck, the adults left, and Violet…was the difficult one, designated as this wallflower, or buzzkill. There were the twins, Minnie especially. Yet, even then… That relationship likely wasn’t reciprocated.

The flare that TFS adds to why Violet found her place in troubled youth—the violence, which could’ve dashed the screen she watched for those five hours—, it hides much of what went wrong with her, but simultaneously, it defines the gravity of her childhood.

It describes a mechanism of hers. One undoubtedly developed from her times alone with a drunk, whenever her grandparents and mother weren’t there. A sense of apathy, and with it, a broken moral compass. To not mind yourself, and not get in the way. To let it happen, and just get it over with, in whatever way that could imply.

And, with the sheer gravity, it begs the question…, how far did that neglect go? All of the abuse, if it wasn’t the only kind. Children aren’t born to sit in one place for hours, with fresh gore rocking in a chair behind.

The question wasn’t answered, of course. She was sent away instead. Then there were the adults. And then, other schoolkids. Violet isn’t…a people person, you know, so it’s only natural for her to be the difficult one as Marlon says.

Still, however, with Clementine as they watch the stars together, Violet denotes for the bird constellation,

“A bird is free. It could go anywhere it wanted to. Up and up and up, and never come back. Go south, east, west, doesn’t matter. You could fly straight into a sunset. And see where it ends.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

And to that,

[Clementine] “You wish it was you, don’t you?” [Violet] “Sometimes, when it all feels so heavy down here, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be weightless.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet has struggled to belong, and yet, she remains. Yes, there’s the apocalypse. However, in all the years at the school, she could have left just as well. There’s a version of her, lost in development, where Violet does leave had she not been saved.

So why didn’t she?

The answer to that, quite simply, is one Louis may admit to Clementine, should that version keep his tongue, and the silent nuance behind her playing leader:

Violet is too loyal to her people to leave.

It’s why Louis teases her, to try and find that laugh, and why he knows that if he needs her, she will be there to protect him. Violently, with a meat cleaver.

It’s why she takes charge, because Violet knows none of the others wanted to, but they needed someone to lead. Whether or not they appreciated that it was her.

And, it’s why she acts without thought to stand her ground against Marlon. If she’s asked, the camera doesn’t leave her because it is no surprise that she will stand beside Clementine, as opposed to Louis, where he decides with uncertainty, and the camera has him shuffle to frame; for Violet, the change in her face is immediate. The camera doesn’t have the time to idle in tension. What Louis says is dead-on:

“If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

Even if she isn’t asked, Violet will then stand her ground once Marlon is shot. She vouches for the outsiders, in the name of reason, and for the twins and Brody.

She doesn’t think when Clementine is in danger—didn’t matter that her and A.J are just exiled. Violet will do as told, trust Clementine—to shoot, or to run.

Takes the helm after Marlon. Backs Clementine every step of the way.

Cannot let Minnie go until she has to, and Violet has seen that the person she clung after is gone.

Violet is too loyal to her people to leave, for her loyalty unbridled.

It’s her strongest quality. It is, also, what marks Violet with borderline.

[Emotional Anchorage]

We slip back to describe BPD at large, beyond this essay and character. However, everything of this section has its place with Violet.

And it begins with emotional anchorage.

Emotional anchors are not inherent to BPD. It’s not unique to the disorder because, instead, I’d argue it is a universal experience. These anchors are anything which triggers an emotional response. These can be specific objects—like an old stuffed bear, a photograph, a house—, or stimuli—like a scent, a song. Tangible things like these are indicative of our nature. Humans like things. We like to collect, and tinker, and destroy. It helps if it’s shiny. It really helps when there’s fire or light involved.

Here's another thing about anchors:

They can be people.

They commonly are. It’s how we distinguish strangers from significant relationships—friends, family, partners. Anchorage is present despite the nuances between friends (just a friend vs BFF), and family (siblings vs parents vs offspring). And, partners—emotional anchorage explains how queerplatonic relationships come to be, because the fundamental element of a partner (being an emotional anchor) is present, it’s just the romantic and/or sexual implications are ambiguous.

Emotional anchoring is the process in establishing the anchor, leaving anchorage as this essay’s way to articulate the concept itself.

Borderline Personality Disorder will naturally encourage these attachments.

Within the community, BPD has a term: favorite person (or FP). It is as it reads. There is a designated favorite for us, and this favorite person can be a friend, a family member, or a partner—anybody, really. With FP, we begin to fall down the well in emotional anchoring as it pertains to the disorder.

Because, ultimately, a FP is either the strongest, or the only, emotional anchor an individual with BPD has. (For the sake of this essay, I will replace FP with primary/prime emotional anchor going forth, to be more consistent in word choice.) And the anchoring of this person is generally not intended. It just happens, where there’s a strike of intrigue, and everything follows thereafter.

The moment I anchor a person, it is a stark change from the indifference/apathy I display to I want to spend all my time with you, and I will literally die for you without a second thought. I will remember everything you value better than I remember my own, and I will present those nice things to you, at every opportunity. Tell me your favorite color once, and I will remember it for decades to come. Tell me to break my nose, and I may very well do it on the spot.

Which. Yes. Is intense.

Understanding the disorder behind it, however, allows me to take the precautions to…warn people beforehand. And to tell them upfront, if ever I am encroaching on boundaries, just say knock it the fuck off, Volt. In exchange…, I don’t take it personally. Because, uh, yeah. I can get intense. I understand. I may feel a type of way in the moment where boundaries are made, but that’s the BPD talking in my ear.

But also, I know I value someone being upfront with me more than a passive rejection. Frustration is what sets me off—the not knowing why—, not the rejection in itself. Because if I don’t know why, that’s how I interpret things as abandonment.

I have been rejected many times in life by people I’ve deemed emotional anchors. And it stung. A lot. Far beyond what I could ever articulate, but if I had to try, they are wounds carved to the bone, or with one, where my heart was quite utterly eviscerated.

There’s a deeper conversation there, with an anchor changing before my eyes. And, yes, it’s ultimately this which the essay will discuss in great detail. Through Violet.

Yet, before that, emotional anchorage is one of the few things that borderline has the chance to gift a person, because it’s not all bad. If you’re like me—where everything is null, and blurry, and static—, having a person suddenly there to awaken my body to speak, sharpen the world, and bring chaos inside my head… It’s a lot. It’s demonstrably a devastating thing, but in a very raw and beautiful way.

Demiromanticism, no doubt, is a reflection of how I express BPD. So to realize my demi ass has feelings, whenever it happens, is nice. …it also means I then have to determine whether it’s that, or a crush. And there is a difference between genuine feelings and a crush, and yeah, I prefer one over the other.

But. (And this can be platonic or romantic.) Having someone be that anchor grounds me, and while the relationship will have turbulence—because the boat I sail is on a river I can’t build canals for—, there brings such a confusing clarity to the world. I have a purpose where I didn’t think I did before.

It’s a high. A borderline addiction.

To not a thing, not a habit, but a person.

When it’s healthy, it’s everything, and I can brave all storms. When it’s not, it’s obsession and mania, it’s my boat trapped in a whirlpool with the anchor at the center of it all; I may break away, violently, or I will sink, and it will be the death of me.

…and when there’s no anchor there at all, I and my boat are to the whim of the river—because there are no canals, I have to rely on my boat to guide me and find an anchor. This can be where people turn to destructive behaviors. Substance abuse. Eating disorders. Everything alike.

Why though?

Why is it this way? Why do people like me sink their teeth and set anchorage like this?

This is where identity creeps its way back.

Because though anybody can develop emotional attachments, to the point of anchorage, BPD again does this to an absolute extreme. My personal anecdote may speak to it without debate. Understanding how identity gets itself involved further speaks to that extreme. BPD isn’t necessarily about the traits themselves, right? So rather, it’s how they manifest, and fester, and the mechanisms behind it all.

With identity, it hinges on what you find comfortable, and what you don’t. It’s guided by your feelings on things, and your comprehensive response thereafter. Passions turn into aspirations. Self-perception feeds into expression. And on and on.

So, if someone does not have a stable sense of self, there is a disturbance in identity. There’s no coherence to the person. Few consistencies, if any at all.

The identity is as stable as your regulation of emotions allow, and if it’s dysregulated, so will your identity.

A broken sense of self fractures a person. So we scour for stability. We do so in people. But with that broken sense, it’s easier to just swap out characteristics and emulate the environment, should there be a promise of stability. When this happens, it can be recognized as masking—because, debatably, it is—, but it can also go so far that people confuse this borderline trait with something like DID.

To those none the wiser, yeah, it might as well be DID. Because, like…, they just change so quickly. And if it’s a matter of mirroring different people, it can also imply that the BPD encourages the person to alter their personality depending on who they’re with at the time. Which. Yes. Has the capacity to resemble switching between split personalities from an observer’s perspective.

However. I have outlined (in quite the broad stroke) what DID is: a split in identities, in order to protect and shield the individual from further trauma. It’s dissociative in nature, where the distinct, established personalities will operate the individual at different times—given the nuances which come with DID.

BPD does come with dissociation as well—my personal experience with how I live day to day is indicative of, for simplicity, derealization and depersonalization. However, it’s not a split. What’s happening is this one identity does not have a stable, set personality. With the incapability to regulate emotions, it indicates a level of alexithymia. So how are we supposed to understand what we want, and don’t want, in everything from interests to moral standing? Things that a personality is grown from?

This copycat behavior is in itself a mechanism that BPD deploys. It’s kinda masking, not to purely to hide from and integrate into social norms, but also to find a sense of self through a very, very desperate act of scavenging.

In BPD, the best candidates to copy are the people who make us feel good—get a high from—, and that we want to be around, and whom we fixate upon—to a manic point: 

Those emotional anchors.

As we go back to Violet, keep this in mind. Again, no, there’s no feasible way to remark for certain what her relationship with identity is like, so the implications that emotional anchoring has on identity can’t really be applied. But the intensity—the level of fixation—can.

Because Violet struggles in her bonds with other people. There’s an idealization present to those bonds, and a devaluation. Both this good and bad, the highs and lows, are via anchorages.

So we’ll start with Minnie.

[Emotional Anchorage: An Obsessive Good Memory]

“Sophie was a good friend. And Minnie… Uh… We were close, me and her.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

When we meet Violet, amongst her introductions, Clementine learns about the twins from the two who still tend to their graves—Violet, and Tennessee. Not long after, there’s a card game, and not long after that, Violet finds Clementine and A.J in their dorm.

The one which was home to the twins.

“Huh. I see you’re, um…, settling in.” “Yeah. Is that okay?” “Sure. I guess. I always liked this room. Sophie had, like, paintings and shit on the walls. Lots of color. And Minerva…, she was really musical. [. . .] She had the most amazing voice. Real bluesy. [. . .] That was a long time ago. After they… Afterwards, Brody and Tenn took down all the paintings. And that was the end of it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. It’s not a good memory. Guess I just lost my train of thought.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

The way she speaks of Minnie, there’s an adoration, and a nostalgia made bitter by the perceived tragedy.

Of course, those twins (…okay, well—) aren’t dead, they were traded. So even though Violet has yet to see Minnie, she is now a presence to her mind that isn’t nearly as bitter. She focuses on getting the school prepared for a fight, alongside Clementine, but through it all, yeah, Minnie is still there.

And when looking at the stars with Clementine, if Clementine remains quiet for the fish constellation, Violet comments,

“Bright, pretty, good with other people. Always moving, tons of energy. Sounds like anyone we know? The energy one is easy. Good with people, not so much. [. . .] Y’know, it… Well, maybe this is weird to bring up, but it reminds me of Minnie.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Minnie is a big part of her, despite their time and distance from each other. They grew up together. They got closer.

Another thing:

Violet never says girlfriend.

The only time where it’s “proclaimed” by the season that Minnie and Violet were girlfriends is through Clementine, where whenever A.J sees the carving in the fishing cabin’s wall, she can say,

“It means they were a couple. [. . .] Violet was Minnie’s girlfriend.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Is it fair to assume that? Yeah. That’s…what carving a heart or potato with initials is supposed to symbolize.

But like.

Let’s be for real. What the ✨fuck✨ does Clementine know? Sure, she’s somehow not concussed after hauling ass in the sky, with a car. But she doesn’t know these people. Point blank.

We don’t know when this heart was carved. Just that it’s V + M (suggesting Violet did it, given the order), it’s out of the way from the school and in the fishing cabin, and it’s just shy from a bed (and alcohol).

Again, Violet herself never says girlfriend.

The heart could’ve been carved with Minnie there with her. Or, Violet was deep in mourning, and decided to brand the cabin—likely because it holds a significant memory.

…and Imma be honest, the cabin has a bed, and it is covered in bottles. Everywhere on the table. Some scattered around. So I will give the benefit of the doubt. Considering the…subtext around the fishing cabin, doing some quick math with my gamer instincts, yeah, if you leave youth (troubled or otherwise) alone, you might get Lord of the Flies, or…exploration. I guess.

It is clear that there was something. There is validity to “[w]e were close, me and her.”

The question then becomes why the ambiguity? Had TFS been made in a different time, and James didn’t have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine couldn’t be a couple, yes, it would’ve been Telltale beating around the bush.

Except even in this moment, Clementine outright says girlfriend in reference to a sapphic dynamic.

Because TFS was not made in a different time, James did have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine can kiss and hold hands.

The ambiguity indicates something else. That ambiguity is heightened the more Violet talks about Minnie pre-Broken Toys (saved Violet route). Because she speaks so fondly of her, with almost this conviction.

Yet…she still does not say girlfriend.

This is textbook. Given the essay, and what I’ve already exhausted over, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is quite plain:

What Clementine stumbles upon isn’t a mourning over a lover; it’s instead, at its core, a lasting idealization.

With BPD, idealization is as follows:

“[A] way of coping with anxiety in which an object or person of ambivalence is viewed as perfect, or as having exaggerated positive qualities.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

This tracks.

Violet speaks so fondly of Minerva, with almost this conviction, yet she does not say girlfriend. Ever. Because the conviction is the intimacy, but Violet is a pragmatic individual. Though there’s idealization present, referring to Minnie as her girlfriend (for whatever reason) is too far for even her mental state.

Like she mourned Minnie for a year. She gushed about her to Clementine every chance she got. So…why not say it?

With this all established, TFS then allows us to witness how idealization in borderline often corrodes into devaluation—the inverse of idealization, its absolute antithesis.

“Used when a person characterizes themselves, an object, or another person as completely flawed, worthless, or as having exaggerated negative qualities [. . .] because there is often no middle ground for a person with BPD. Feeling challenged, threatened, or disappointed can quickly cause them to devalue the people they formally idealized. Rather than cope with the stress of ambivalence, devaluing functions to minimize the anxiety caused by ambiguity.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

This corrosion has a name. It is splitting.

Like with the previous definitions, I will allow my resource to explain this concept, because of everything this essay has to offer, it is this that the everything hinges on.

“Splitting involves an inability to hold two opposing thoughts, beliefs, or feelings. People who have BPD tend to view others in all-or-nothing [. . .] terms. “This self-protective defense mechanism aims to help people with BPD protect themselves from getting hurt in relationships. By labeling people as ‘good,’ they are able to engage in relationships despite the emotional risks. If they feel threatened, they can then quickly discard the individual or the relationship by labeling them as ‘bad.’ “Like most defense mechanisms, someone with BPD may not be aware that they are engaging devaluation and idealization. Splitting is a subconscious way to protect themselves from perceived stress[, and] reflects the challenges associated with maintain an integrated view of the good and bad in a person under stress. Some researchers suggest that some of the difficulty is rooted in the way the brain, particularly the amygdala and prefrontal lobe, activates in these experiences for people with BPD.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

…again, this essay has to break away from Violet and TFS to provide an insight, a discussion, of what this means for BPD.

I will start by clarifying that splitting from one end to the other is a bitch to deal with. The catch is not every person with BPD is incapable of reading the world beyond black-and-white. I’m one who can, …when I’m not in the midst of an episode. Day to day, I’m apathetic/indifferent—take your pick—, and because of that, I don’t give enough of a shit to really fixate on what is “good” and what is “bad” to me. I take everything as they go.

Because I really, really do not give a flying fuck.

The moment there is any seed of emotional attachment, or anchorage, it changes things. For me, it’s generally that I really adore this person, but they did something that hurt, and it confused me, so I shut down and close myself off. Namely so that I can have the time and space to breathe and process. Because I feel a lot for these people. I’ve gone over how intense that feeling is. And the last thing I want to do is hurt them.

So the moment I get confused, it boils into frustration, but frustration means ire with me. And that’s terrifying, because I don’t know what I can and will do if I’m backed into a corner. Because I know my brain shuts itself off.

The other thing to this as well is…it’s not always such a violent shift between idealization and devaluation. It really depends on how confused I am, the person, and then the time and distance laid between me and them. If there’s minimal distance between me and them, and minimal time between then and now, then yes, it will be explosive. If, say, a year has passed, and I have not seen this person within that time, then the splitting will look very different—largely because I don’t perceive it as an immediate danger, so my brain never shuts off, and I can process in the moment with reason. There’s still significant emotions there, of course, and given it’s still splitting, I do have that shift between the extremes. Difference is,I am able to regulate myself better.

Take note of this nuance, because it is absolutely present in Violet.

And we resume her relationship with Minnie, where we witness the corrosion from idealization, inching towards its antithesis. The process is best explored if Violet is saved, where it doesn’t taken an age, nor a day. It takes mere morning hours.

When spying upon the boat to get their bearings, and formulate a plan, they find Minnie chopping wood. Or, Clementine does, pulls a knife on her, before Violet intervenes. They embrace. Clementine has opinions off to the side. 

Then.

They talk. And Minnie… Um. Well. If Delta was inspired by the New Frontier, Minnie would’ve had a fat branding right on her forehead.

Immediately, it becomes evident that Minerva has no interest in going back to the school. Her loyalty lies with the Delta. And given the prompt, she will have this to say:

[Violet’s in charge.] “Really? The Violet I knew could barely stand to talk to people, let alone play class president. You’re the one who convinced the school to fight back. From where I’m standing, that puts you in charge. Your ‘leadership’ is going to get my little brother killed.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Forest]

Huh.

Not only does what she say about Violet directly contradict what Clementine sees from her, Minnie is also blatant in steamrolling right through the testament, and tells Clementine that no, you’re the leader, and you’re bad at it because you are a threat to my brother.

It’s a little jarring. Because, one, ouch. That’s mean. Mitch died because he ran into a knife, and it was not Clementine’s.

But two, what?! Violet, whose first line to Clementine is snark about her driving, could barely stand to talk to people? Violet. Who stood up to Marlon, cleaver at hand? The one who Louis says (given the other route) will do just that to any threat?

Our Violet, who Clementine gets to know. The one who immediately took the role after Marlon because nobody else did? Despite the fact that, yes, she realizes there’s no promise that the schoolkids will actually listen?

Violet…is openly sardonic, is she not? Does she not confront people with a weapon?

It’s a little jarring, then it’s…dissonant the more you pick it apart. Because what is Minnie talking about? 

I will say, for sure, Violet changed within that year apart. But not to the degree that Minnie implies to us. We have Louis’ words for Violet, and then Violet herself—constantly brings up protecting the twins. And she’s shown she will. Violet will shoot Lilly if told. And Violet, after Marlon’s death, brandishes her cleaver to shield Clementine and A.J from the other schoolkids.

Maybe part of the change was that she vowed to herself that she’d do better after losing the twins. Wouldn’t be surprised.

…but Minnie didn’t like killing walkers, though. Which implies that, yes, Violet probably filled a protector role for her, in regards to the dead.

It’s baffling. I can go on and on and on.

Just as Violet did, between seeing Minnie after so long, and finding Clementine in her dorm.

“The thing is, seeing Minnie… I feel like it should’ve scared me. But it didn’t. The person we ran into in the woods, that wasn’t Minnie. Not really. The way she sounded, and acted… The way she talked about Sophie, and Lilly… I’m…confused, I guess.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

She voices the same sentiment.

But upon various dialogue prompts, the corrosion inches its way to Violet:

[She’s one of them now.] “It sucks, but…I don’t know what else I expected.” [It’s not Minnie’s fault.] “I never said it was. But it doesn’t change anything.” [We can save Minnie.] “You saw how she reacted when Lilly showed up. Those are her people now. And we are not.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

I do think it’s interesting that, even if Clementine says to Violet that Minnie could be saved, she says otherwise. Because Violet is pragmatic. Minerva coming back from the Delta is just not realistic.

So through time and distance, and the wake-up call in the woods, Violet expresses an acceptance of this. The fact that Minnie won’t come back. It’s not quite splitting, because…this isn’t a true devaluation here; it’s the idealization ebbing away.

“Minnie…, the real Minnie…, she’s gone. She’s been gone this whole time, and I…have to stop mourning her. I won’t let her take you or A.J. Or anyone else I care about.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

And she admits it to Clementine aloud. Promises her that she, and A.J, along with everyone else, will be protected from the Delta—from Minnie, if need be.

Not only that, if Violet is romanced, she makes a request:

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

I’ve always taken this line to signal how nervous, and how new Violet is to this kind of relationship. Because it is new to her. This is the first time where her feelings were reciprocated. She always wanted to try dancing with someone, but for whatever reason, never had with Minnie. And she’s nervous because…she wants it to be reciprocated, and Violet here is gaging a reaction, testing the waters.

In writing this essay, another thought occurred:

This is Violet moving on.

She’s nervous because there is a lot of weight to this request. She’s gaging what Clementine says, because Violet is invested now. All-in. 100%.

It’s not about Minerva—doesn’t even outright say that she never had a dance with Minnie.

Because by this point, through this dance, Violet’s realized just how unreciprocated her feelings were, because now, she has the chance to dance with someone who does reciprocate. And not just in the dance. Clementine’s loyalty extends further than that.

Another detail that I noticed is perpetuated throughout every interaction with Minnie is who she always prioritizes, and how it contrasts Clementine. With Clementine, of course A.J is first priority, and Violet understands that. And she goes out of her way to help with him. Conversely, Clementine helps with Tenn, and the school, and the other Ericson kids. All of which are who Violet also prioritizes.

Meanwhile, the same can’t be said for the other side of that contrast. Because it’s always what about Sophie and Minnie? from Violet, and never what about Tenn and Violet? from Minerva. It’s only ever Tennessee for her.

With the initial encounter, yes. She wouldn’t be asking about Violet because… Violet’s right there. She’s talking to her. However, we overhear Minnie talking to Dorian, asking to have Tenn join her. Not Violet. Then, further into the night, where suddenly she’s singing her own boss music and a red bar just takes up the whole screen, Minnie goes out of her way to claim Tenn.

And then, for good measure, axe Clementine.

But not because of Violet. Clementine gets axed regardless of who she saves, because Minnie…is far, far more pissed that Clementine put Tennessee in danger than anyone else. Including Violet.

The Delta changed Minerva. Yes.

Yet, Lilly never was able to remove her loyalty to her people. Her people being Tenn.

It’s telling, how (in)significant Violet was to her because all I read is…, it is nowhere close to the significance Minnie had on Violet. Because Minnie had other priorities.

She just happened to be Violet’s primary emotional anchor. And with that comes everything Violet could feasibly offer a person.

Here’s the thing to understand with this essay, and what I’m getting at with Minnie and Violet’s past relationship:

Violet anchoring Minnie is not Minnie’s fault. It’s not Violet’s either; a kid isn’t going to understand why they’re feeling a certain type of way, but when it feels nice, they will follow. Especially when the adults responsible for troubled youth are just…gone.

But what this does bring to light is a nesting place for borderline’s stigma.

Emotional anchors, splitting between idealization and devaluation—these concepts are the source for much of the fear against people with BPD. When gathering articles to reference at the end, some articles I pull from r/BPD on Reddit because having resources that are from people with experience asking and answering questions is incredibly valuable. Many discussions in r/BPD related to this (exchange primary emotional anchor with FP) are frustrating. For myself to read, because several are people not with BPD venting, but, I imagine it was frustrating to type out because…they’re venting for a reason.

Depending on the discussion, however, what is said is ignorant to all of what I know of my disorder. I know where it comes from. I know that the emotions behind all of what I do with anchorage are genuine. But then there’s people who vent, or there’s others who prompt a question because they are nervous that their friend (with BPD) is not genuine.

Of course, I can’t promise how other people with BPD are like. BPD is dependent on the personality, and if you have a shit personality. Um. Yeah. You’re not a fun person to be around. Sorry?

Not really, but, you know.

Stigma aside, it is true. I understand the insecurities, and the need to vent. Being someone’s anchor because of borderline is a lot of fucking pressure, and truth be told, it’s like that because…what if you just can’t reciprocate the intensity? After that honeymoon phase, people without the underlying disorder tend to get exhausted emotionally, meanwhile…, there is no cease from the other.

So people tend to draw away. They either do so quietly, in attempt to not hurt feelings, or, they’ll be direct and antagonize because of they stress they’re under. Either way, if the condition has gone untreated, the confusion this brings will then ignite the individual’s borderline. This is where you get insecurities born within the relationship, which the person can then go further and self-sabotage because there is no regulating themselves. You get constant bombardment whenever they feel neglected. They’re overbearing. You feel that their claws are dug deep, and it’s far deeper than you could’ve ever imagined.

Because there’s an anchorage.

If this is what happened, and Minnie entertained Violet, but never reciprocated the magnitude of devotion Violet brings with her… I can’t blame the girl. And given that Minnie was a troubled youth just as much as Violet was, she had her fair share of issues.

Because frankly, I don’t care if she was brainwashed or what, Minnie still killed her twin sister. You know, the one that has been in the same situations, the same environments, throughout Minnie’s life, yet when she saw the Delta, Sophie did not fold. Sophie actively fought against the Delta, whereas Minnie…complied.

Even before they were caught on the raft that Sophie planned to steal.

“One of the girls saw that this was a place worth fighting for, and her tears dried. But the other twin, she could never forget her old home. She rejected every gift, every opportunity. Stirred up trouble every chance she got. She convinced her sister to help her steal a raft and leave on the river. Of course, they didn't get far. What happened then, Minerva?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

This Parable of Twins is, of course, by Lilly’s word, and yes, she did brainwash Minnie. So naturally, there will be an element here where the details are lost. I buy that Minnie did accept her place in the Delta where Sophie never did, but I don’t really believe that it was just because she saw it was a place worth fighting for.

The reality of Minerva is she’s a very conflicted person, and she’s passive by nature. She’s a good head taller than Violet, yet, when Violet talks about her (and Sophie), it’s always about protecting her. Because Minnie didn’t like killing walkers.

I also wonder if the reason why she’s so passive is because Sophie…might’ve been the one that got her and Tenn into trouble right with her, if she was more combative. As for the confliction, Minerva may have been caught in between—because there’s a combative twin, and then there’s a younger brother to protect, one who’s passive to a fault.

It’s this confliction and passiveness that has Minnie primed for manipulation. She will seek stability through, well, passive means. With the Delta, do as they say.

…and with Violet, it’s let the girl have her infatuation, maybe entertain it, but don’t cross too far into romantic territory because the girl’s a little too intense.

(Of course, Minnie is also the one who was practically dead herself while leading a herd by voice alone, to kill her brother and maybe do a little slashing. So like, she is just as intense, just…in less of a loyal kind of way, and more in fucking unhinged way. Because she also might’ve been the one to instill Tenn’s beliefs.)

Once it’s revealed what happened to Sophie, Violet snaps. She yells at Minerva.

But even still, there’s a slip of that anchorage:

“Who are you?! Fuck survival! Look at what you’re doing! Minnie, please, I just want to talk to you for a second! I’m sorry we never searched for you, for Sophie… I’m sorry we trusted that fucker, Marlon. If I ever thought there was a chance—” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

Following this, time ticks away with a bomb in a boiler, so Clementine lunges for an escape—to get A.J back to her side. And Minnie tries to stop her.

With a knife near-identical to Jane’s in S2. And it manages to gouge a near-identical scar in Clementine’s sternum. A stark parallel to S2’s ending. Except, Violet doesn’t hesitate. The moment she is out of the cell, she disappears into the backdrop, then an arrow finds its place in Minerva’s shoulder not long thereafter.

She does stay at her side, for when the schoolkids leave. Perhaps for closure, if the previous dialogue gives any indication.

Because even though Violet shot Minnie, moved on from her with a dance, and realized that she wasn’t going to return, that anchor is still there. Minnie was, after all, still a significant part of her, and that…doesn’t really ever just go away. The idealization may have drained, but the feelings themselves do remain.

We then look to another Violet, who was taken rather than saved.

“At least here I have Minnie… [. . .] Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

And another aspect of BPD, and anchorage, becomes clear:

Borderline primes people for manipulation, much in the same way that a passive and conflicted nature primed Minnie.

There’s a flipside to emotional anchoring in BPD, and it has everything to do with how the disorder forces people to become reliant on their anchors. People who cannot discern nor regulate their own emotions, and people with a bleak, instable sense of identity.

Which is a problem because there are people who’re able to take a person’s emotions, and weaponize them as a puppeteer. They manipulate through any means necessary.

Most, in an effort to avoid being manipulated themselves, try to hide their emotions and keep them out of reach. They suppress them, because suppressing your emotions is how you get the most control, and nobody else.

Right?

Coming from experience, do not do this. Suppressing your emotions is the last thing you want to do.

Especially if you want to avoid getting yourself manipulated.

I felt that I had to suppress not just as a child, but before that, because I was in a fucked situation. And it did this to me.I have no control. Life is a writhing storm at sea, and I just fucking hope I can find an anchor within the storm’s eye—but I know there’ll never be a calm to this storm.

And the wrong people know this. The ones who prey and manipulate to abuse the loyalty I am so desperate to offer, and can pull it from me with ease, should idealization blind me from the warning signs.

When Violet is saved, she sees through Minnie quickly. Because it’s in how Minnie talks. And it’s weird, because Violet also includes how she talked about Sophie, when the most Minnie said was “she died protecting the Delta. A hero” once prompted by Violet’s concern. That shouldn’t have raised alarm, yet…something about it did. To Violet.

So she’s able to let go. Violet still holds the memory of Minnie quite dear to her heart—the one in her head—, but after this, it was more about closure, not bringing her back. And all it took was that one interaction.

But here, back to a Violet taken away, it takes longer. She’s not told what actually happened to Sophie; instead, both Minerva and Lilly feed into a broken trust with Clementine, and condemns Violet back to the girl who sat with Grandma’s body rocking behind her.

Her loyalty blinds her to what Minnie has devolved into, so she goes and tries to stop the bomb, save the boat, and secure a future with her because Minnie is all she knows and trusts.

Yet.

It’s broken when Violet does. Because Violet has her face marred by the bomb. She’s left to defend herself—blindly—as she clambers out of the water with a walker snagged at the leg. She asks for Minnie at first, is led by Louis, and then…it becomes clear what happened when they hear gunshots, clearing away the walkers.

Minnie. Is left. Unscathed.

Well, okay. She does, like, panic and stuff, and then gets bit. So, that explosion had been her death sentence.

But Minnie is not burned. Not like Violet.

Which…implies something. However it happened, Violet was the one closest to the bomb, and Violet was further down the beach, towards the boat, whereas when Clementine, A.J and Louis reach her, Minnie is away, towards the woodland. Getting her ass bit. A bunch.

She either got off the boat at a different (earlier) time, or, she just…abandoned Violet. To defend the last of the boat and her crew. And, probably, to look for Tenn.

Leaving Violet to realize something, and as she struggles to see the world, she begins to try and apologize. To Clementine. Who didn’t lie to her about the fucking bomb on the boat, and given that, it also kinda explains why Clementine didn’t take her sweet time consoling Violet from her episode because. Um. The bomb. 

Whatever it was that happened, it’s enough to rattle Violet to reason. And to snap her out of it.

Within one interaction. (…explosion.)

It’s…the little things like this—the ones that go unsaid—, which indicate Minnie’s sense of priorities, and how even when Violet actively worked to help save the boat, those priorities never were Violet. Before this, she manipulated and lied to her, and (via the alternative path) she never…danced with Violet, despite Minnie being the musical twin. Instead, Violet never danced, but she does sing now. 

Which again has me wonder, was it Minnie entertaining Violet, and/or, if the subtext found in the fishing cabin does indicate this, was it never romantic like how Violet wanted? Just physical?

I’m kinda losing my mind over here?!

There was always an imbalance. Violet always prioritized Minnie, and her sister, and her brother. She prioritized the latter two because of Minnie, and then prioritized Tenn after the sisters were traded off. Prioritized Minnie’s interests—singing, and took it on herself—, and left her own—like the dancing—to…wane in self-doubt. 

And then…, we have Minnie who killed her twin, and then went after Tenn to also kill him. The killing part is, well, the brainwashing and trauma, and stuff, but point being… Violet is still not in the equation. She’s an afterthought to Minnie.

This isn’t to say that Violet and Minnie’s relationship was downright toxic, or abusive, or anything along those lines. All we have is Violet’s word. But given Violet clearly glorified Minnie to herself, her word is unreliable.

What this is all to say is…, it was no mistake on Telltale’s part to have Violet physically blind, or then speak about how she had been blinded figuratively—before reality set in. Down one route, this was done by having the wool pulled from her eyes; down the other, it was the blinding in itself that brought her clarity.

It’s what I mean when I say that Violet’s unbridled loyalty is also her bane. She establishes strong and intense emotional anchors, to the point where should that anchor be lost, she will refuse to let go. And not because she wants to trap herself to that anchor, but because that’s…how BPD is. Attachments like this are really hard to shake off. But also, Violet didn’t know who else to turn to. 

There’s Tenn, sure, but she’s his protector, not the other way around. There’s some of the others—Mitch, Willy, Ruby, Aasim—who we don’t get enough time to really see how Violet is with them. Marlon she tolerates, but there’s a clear strain between them.

Louis— God, there’s Louis, and he’s the one that she is vehement about getting back—indicating that he is yet another anchor for her. Thing is, he was also Marlon’s best friend, and they are…opposites. A lot of conflict comes from that.

…this essay really doesn’t have much to say with Louis and Violet. In part because, frankly, I didn’t really know where I could put him with the points I strive to make. There is absolutely space for him, yet, another thing:

Their words for each other, when the other is taken, are enough. Louis and Violet say everything themselves.

I did give commentary to the dialogue quotes, but it was sparse for this precise reason. I don’t need to get into how quietly powerful their friendship is. Louis is the one who introduces Violet by name. He’s the one that promises Clementine that it’s just her way, because he knows her. If blinded, he’s also the one that she relies on to guide her. And despite Marlon, and perhaps despite even Clementine given the different routes, there is never a malice between them.

Which I adore TFS for doing, because it would’ve been easy to have them be rivals and fight over each other. Especially for Clementine.

But that’s also juvenile, and while those storylines have their place, it is not here.

Never has. Never will.

So there’s Louis. He’s an anchor. Yet, because he is the one grounded anchor Violet has of the schoolkids, not fazed by idealization nor devaluation… That is their dichotomy. It is unique of all other relationships Violet has before Clementine—after Clementine as well, should he be the one saved.

We have Brody. Who does represent a point of devaluation for Violet. The lowest to a volatile relationship.

[Emotional Anchorage: Walking Triggers]

Truth be told, in this most recent endeavor to write Violet’s deconstruction, Brody was who reignited the compulsion. Because there is a deep-seated complexity to what happened between her and Violet, and why it happened. …only for me to find yet another post somewhere that was made by a glanced judgement.

Its criticism wasn’t in any way toxic, which was nice because this fandom…has a mean streak. But it did harken back to borderline’s stigma regardless.

Devaluation is a very ugly mark on someone with BPD. Worse than idealization, in the eyes of many. It in itself is toxic,and this coping mechanism is one of the reasons why BPD a disorder with the stigma it portrays. There’s a dysfunction in the order within our behavior.

That dysfunction, and the subsequent behavior, provokes a defensive ignorance.

Violet is wrong to do this. This is an antagonistic trait of hers, and Brody gets the brunt of it. She had to live with this for a year.

However, making blanket assumptions is reductive, especially in a discussion where it’s about understanding the how and why. There’s a reason why Violet devalues Brody. The path to how it happened in the first place is actually quite apparent. If you know how to read the signs, you can see this happen a mile away. So through understanding the how and why, it’s easier to 1) avoid it entirely, and 2) navigate devaluation if/when it does transpire.

Both Brody and Violet together make one mistake, and the fix is straightforward. Not easy, but straightforward.

Before that, though, we first shall establish a few things.

For one, Violet is…a lot. Don’t let her apathetic demeanor fool you. Just look to the previous section—that alone is enough to prove otherwise.

Along with the apathy, Violet is sardonic. She’s aloof to people when she doesn’t have strong attachments, but, she likewise shows to be pragmatic and reasonable. Which like, same. I wear belts and layer my jackets with vests too.

…and I also know what this kind of character implies: Violet is a little bully. She absolutely has the capacity to be cruel.This is also confirmed later, where at Ruby’s hootenanny, there’s mention of an Erin with braces that Violet would make fun of. (Probably because braces are hard to take off; they are a little goofy in an apocalypse, but also…really unfortunate the more it puts stress on the mouth and dental structure.) Violet then comments that she didn’t know why she did.

I wear belts and layer my jackets too; upon reflection, I did the same thing as a kid. So I have some insight to this which may explain the why here. Given how Violet speaks of this schoolkid, I’m willing to bet that Erin wasn’t someone who Violet had strong emotions for, one way or the other. She likely was pretty indifferent to Erin.

So, if that is true, Violet being a bully here comes from a place of 1) being apathetic, and not reading social cues like she should’ve, and/or 2) Erin was an outlet, but not a personal one. 

Snide comments, and other slighted behaviors like this, they do not register. 

Nothing clicks up here, behind my eyes. The comments are too brief to. So where this lashing out is coming from, it happens so swiftly that, by the time it leaves the mouth, I don’t know where it came from. There’s not much feeling to it. It was an impulse. So I just continue on my way, and never consider why.

In this way, there’s no malicious intent, it’s just cold. But outwardly, cruel.

A lot of times, to me, it was just play. 

This is how a play with you. I make fun of you; you make fun of me. If you get hurt by it? Well. That sucks. Anyway—

Which, yes, is toxic, and I’ve realized, and I’m an adult now and I…don’t do that. Kind of. Social cues are a thing now, and I’ve gotten myself more aware of people. But I still do like poking fun, with the full expectation that it’s dished back.

Granted, I don’t know just how much of this applies to Violet. She has her insecurities, and is nervous when bringing herself to the table. And I am definitely not that—it’s not a confidence; I don’t care enough to be confident, I just do my thing.

But. This does establish a pattern with Violet, and with BPD, the disorder reflects the personality. There are common traits to BPD, but the expression of those traits varies depending on the person. For someone like Violet, who is already rather cold, this means any trait of BPD which stems from a cold demeanor will be present, and elevated. To borderline’s extreme.

Or, because Violet already can be cold to people, where devaluation is concerned, her personality makes it ten times worse. It doesn’t end. She makes comments—except, now, because there is significant emotion behind the comments (to Brody), it is to sting. It is cruel.

But…, it’s also complicated.

The bond between Brody and Violet is first made to be antagonistic, and Violet’s the one who perpetuates. Unlike the night before, where she with Clementine had a nice banter going in the dorm (if a tad guarded), Violet on the way to the cabin is hostile. Her words aren’t aggressive, but they’re instead dismissive at best, scathing at worst.

Brody does push back a little, and tries to brush it off, but it’s quite plain on her face that this does get to her.

In the cabin and away from Violet, Brody gives the context. It’s not just the words themselves hurt, it’s the fact that there’s a history there.

“Hey…, about Vi… I’m sorry she’s being a little mean. It’s my fault. [. . .] I was there when those walkers killed Sophie and Minnie. They were really close with Vi, and…I think she blames me for what happened to them. I mean, how do you even apologize for something that fucked up? I don’t know. Maybe I deserve it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Violet is hurt. Brody’s guilty.

Then, there’s a second, damning piece of history that explains why Brody, of all the schoolkids, gives the most insight to Violet’s mental health, and why this is happening.

“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

In the same way where it was textbook idealization for Minnie, this is textbook devaluation.

It’s made complicated because they were friends—good ones, considering they’ve been stuck in the same place since the outbreak—, but now there’s a negative connotation. That being the twins.

And remember, devaluation is an avoidant mechanism. Ambivalence is confusing, and that agitates a borderline personality.

Brody can then explain more, depending on the prompted dialogue:

[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [You should talk to her.] “Yeah, right. I tried, I have. It just never seems like the right time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Once again, Violet is distant where she wasn’t before.

But we also get a further confirmation that Brody is the one with the negative connotation, and it’s because she was the one who had to tell her. …which in itself is an interesting choice of words, but we can assume Marlon pressured her once the conspiracy is revealed.

Then another confirmation, to the fact that opening a conversation has not been feasible.

Turn to Violet, and she first says this:

“God. Sometimes she just gets on my last nerve, you know? [. . .] I mean, it’s— It’s not like I hate her… I just… ‘I wish we could all go on a road trip together.’ God, she’s so…ugh. You know? [. . .] I don’t know what the problem is between us. With Brody…, I don’t know why it’s like this. Why is it so weird? I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

All of this is telling. Violet is very animated here, both in how she says it, her shifting tone, and what she’s saying. First it’s a comment. Second it’s admission. Then there’s that sardonic tongue, an ask to gage whether or not Clementine understands, before it all breaks and she goes back to admission.

The last couple lines say something crucial to know when understanding the dynamic here. And if a player is impatient with dialogue, they will miss these.

I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.

So Brody is a walking trigger.

Within the bounds of splitting to devaluation, this happens when an emotional anchor develops a level of ambivalence, but because anchors do not just go, the anchorage is instead insecure, rather than the source of stability once relied upon.

Yes. Brody is another of Violet’s anchors—just not the primary one.

And what it means to be a walking trigger is…devastating. Not just for Brody, but for Violet as well. She doesn’t have the support Brody gives her anymore. Can’t trust it. Because every time Brody walks in the same room, Violet cannot relax. She is agitated.

Don’t take this to mean in a figurative way.

It is literal.

Triggers rise from people an emotional response. In BPD, this often means that the brain will shut its reasoning off, and prioritize this “survival” instinct. Fight-or-flight.

So when Violet says, I can never relax around her, this isn’t a oh I’m nervous, I don’t know what to do. This is I cannot function when she’s in the same room as me. Maybe she’s hypervigilant around Brody. To the point where Violet cannot stand Brody anywhere near her…

So she sabotages. She’s cruel to Brody in the comments she makes. She does not allow Brody to get close, because it is too much. Rather than a calm, reasonable state of mind, Violet feels things. A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing—Brody’s there.

And the easiest way to stop it is to push Brody away.

And, and, initially, blame the girl.

[Because you blame her.] “Well, that’s what I used to think. I just keep thinking that things might have ended differently if I was there. Maybe I could’ve protected Soph. And Minnie…” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

There’s a confliction here. Violet did blame Brody, until she realized it wasn’t that. Instead, she blamed herself.

It’s the following prompt, however, that gives the best clarity to Brody and Violet. The prompt,

[Because she never said sorry.] 

where Violet tells Clementine exactly what the trigger is—because by this point, a year later, she’s figured out how to articulate what it is:

[Violet] “She tell you that?” [Clementine] “More or less. She wants to talk about it, you know.” [Violet] “I just… I feel guilty about the whole thing.” [Clementine] “Why?” [Violet] “I was supposed to be out with the twins that day. I wanted to work in the greenhouse, so I asked Brody to cover for me. But then… I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I… I wanted to talk to Brody, to tell her I didn’t blame her for what happened. But every time I tried, I was reminded of who we lost. It was easier to just not talk about it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

If BPD isn’t a lonely experience, or a humiliating one, it can be a guilty life to live.

Violet expresses why losing the twins hurt as much as it did: there was never closure, and she blamed herself. Hence why, earlier, I suspected that seeking closure was what kept Violet at Minnie’s side after shooting her.

She was finally saying that goodbye, regardless of how the interaction itself went.

But it’s what she says about Brody.

Violet wants to talk. She has wanted to. But Brody’s a walking trigger. Every. Single. Time that Violet tried to talk, the same turbulence arose. In BPD, without that regulation, it is unbelievably difficult to talk when…your body’s actively flipping the fuck out.

A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing.

Of course she found it easier to just not talk about it. That is an instinct ingrained by borderline.

BPD is a lonely experience every time you lose an anchor this way. The disorder is humiliating because you do not want people to see you like this, when you’re in the midst of an episode, and you have no fucking control over your body, so you yourself are flipping the fuck out.

And it’s guilty. Because when you’re in Violet’s position, where you know the reason why, you know what you want to do, but your body works against you at every turn…

It devastates a person.

Because it is your fault. You did this yourself. Reap what you sow. You’ve done it again, it’s humiliating, and you are very, very alone because you just cannot stop burning bridges.

…in the apocalypse, being chained to a boarding school does not help. There is no way to give the time and space someone like Violet needs to think, and to process, and to let those emotions relax. Brody kicks up those emotions whenever she’s around, and the dust just never settles.

Violet trapped herself in a cycle. By the hour, or by the day, for a year, it would’ve been a ceaseless agony.

One that did scar over. Violet probably got used to it, and found a routine to the snide comments. It wasn’t like Brody was leaving anytime soon.

Until she does, and she suffers a disorientating last few moments.

I’d like to think they made amends and had a full conversation. I don’t know, however. But, at least Violet does take the first step when walking from the cabin, and she entertains Brody’s fantasies about a road trip, and that she would’ve had her sights on the Grand Canyon.

Because the one mistake they made was they never talked. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing, but it is that straightforward. So when they did, or began to, the devaluation began to ebb away.

Then, a tragic irony.

Brody’s guilt was never just I’m not Minnie, so she hates me, and it’s my fault. Rather, Brody’s guilt was warranted, and quite honestly, yeah. She should’ve be guilty, because it’s I watched as my leader gave this girl’s world away, and did nothing, lied to her, to her face, for a year.

Violet didn’t know this at the time. So for her, Brody was a point of devaluation because it’s her mental health actively jeopardizing things, not the truth and circumstance. The deception, in the conversation of that mental health, instead plays itself like salt to a wound, and then a tragic irony once Brody was murdered for it.

Because Brody knew they had to tell people. If the path to mending their relationship was encouraged, then it could be read that it gave her the inch to confront Marlon. If otherwise, Brody wanted to tell everyone because she needed to, despite what turmoil the truth would’ve caused Violet.

By the time Violet does know, and there’s a funeral, she says this about Brody:

“Brody, she was… She was real sweet. She had big dreams. And we all knew they wouldn’t come true, but we didn’t care. And we didn’t care because when she was talking, whatever she said seemed possible. [. . .] I don’t know if she found the place she dreamed about, but I’m gonna miss her.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]

There’s forgiveness. With Brody died that devaluation.

Not a moment thereafter, however,

“Marlon was… I can’t. Not for Marlon. After what he did to the twins and Brody, I—”  [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]

The cycle continues.

Now with Marlon.

If Violet devalued Brody, she absolutely vilified Marlon. Because not only was it about the twins, there’s also Brody.

So of course she didn’t give him any peace after the fact. Why would she? Marlon had his own complexities, yes, but those complexities hurt. They brought another ambivalence.

As the essay rattles from the schoolkids, we’ll discuss another relationship now. A new, fresh one. Clementine, through who we see all of it—the emotional anchorage, the idealization, and devaluation. The splitting between. How intense Violet can be, and how volatile.

We have Clementine, who is given the chance to witness what Louis means for this wallflower, and that she grows on you (he promises so).

[VIOLENTINE: The Ship, and its Anchorage]

Platonic or romanced—the difference doesn’t matter in this essay. The shift of context between friend and more than that is just that: a shift in context. Distinguishing the two will have its moment, but it is hardly integral to the fact of the matter:

Violet anchored Clementine, and she did it swiftly. (In record time, dare I say.)

In regards to the arguments against romancing Violet, there’s a lot of people who look to Minnie, then back to Violet, and point to Clementine’s “girlfriend” dialogue. “Violet’s not over Minnie,” is a common one, right alongside, “Clementine’s just a rebound.”

Now. I’ve spent 5.5k words tearing those arguments to shreds in one section, and I still have with me another few things to say about Minnie and Violet’s relationship up my sleeve. In light of Clementine and Violet’s relationship.

Because even though I do buy that they were closer than friends arguably would be, they weren’t girlfriends. It’s why Violet was insecure within their relationship, and why that insecurity devolved into a strong case of idealization. Violet genuinely did love Minnie. Her bond with the twin will honestly forever be there, but that bond wasn’t unconditional. The conditions were at the cost of Violet’s mental health.

Then there’s the rebounding, and I will use this as a jumping off point regardless of relational status.

Rebound relationships are defined by a partner still with a previous relationship’s baggage. They’re not done healing. They haven’t quite let go. It gets in the way for committed relationships where the expectation is that both are in it 100%, and that person just…can’t. Because they’re still fixated on the last partner.

…which yes, does sound like Violet. Cuz it kinda, sorta, frankly is.

However. For one thing, this dynamic doesn’t just apply to a Violet route opted for romance. The rebound applies to a platonic dynamic, in part because I don’t frankly believe Minnie was a true girlfriend, and in part because idealization is not specific to partners. Especially in what we see in TFS, Violet needed to let go of Minnie regardless.

Then there’s the fact that being a rebound isn’t always bad. To rebound, which is where the term “rebound relationship” derives from, means for something/someone to bounce back. Or, it can mean a kind of backfire. Both uses of the word can be applied to relationships like this, which, yes, is why they’re fickle, and why people do their best to avoid.

Here’s the thing: Violet needed a new relationship to pull her out of the old one. Because Clementine is a catalyst for Violet, and she was anchored so quickly because whether Violet herself realized, she did want to move on. She couldn’t, but through Clementine, she got the chance.

And I do confidently say that she did want to, because by one interaction in the woods, Violet is disillusioned from Minerva immediately. She’s snapped out of what image she had of her, and is the one that remains realistic where Clementine can offer supporting words—along the lines of we can get her back.

It’s why Brody, through the cabin’s conversation, observes the same.

“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that. But when you showed up… I don’t know, I just haven’t seen her warm up to someone in a long time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

I find it interesting that Brody picks up on Violet taking to Clementine so quickly, and is able to read enough into this to try and see if it’s enough of a push for Violet to start healing. She’s right, it is enough, and Violet does take a first step in mending their relationship, and breaking away from the devaluation that was arguably heightened by her idealization of Minnie.

…granted, it’s dependent on player choice. There are Violets running around out there having fished with Clementine, but never did reconcile with Brody.

In any case, I am going to argue against Minnie being Violet’s ex because 1) who the fuck cares, I’m not concerned over purity over here, and 2) it’s likely they weren’t exes at all.

However, I won’t fight against this being a rebound. It is. But, Violet’s arc is about learning how to let the fuck go, she has a problem with letting go, so of course the relationship would be a rebound by proxy. A healthy rebound, at that.

By the time she is forced to let go of Clementine, after two newcomers are voted out, her attachment is made quite plain the moment Clementine is in danger within— What, five minutes, and Clementine is at gunpoint?

Regardless, Violet is there, bow at hand, with Louis behind her. She is ready to shoot, and it is no bluff. Violet will if prompted. Or, she will run should Clementine prioritize getting the two out of it.

Because Clementine’s already anchored. Violet trusts her to make the call, and she will follow without hesitation. Later on, after a weary night with A.J shot, then a morning of crawling back for medicine, Violet calls for Clementine to talk in the office. And in there, the anchorage is confirmed further:

“What happened out in the woods… I saw they had you pinned, and I… Shit, I got so crazy. “I know you think I didn’t do enough for you and A.J, but when I saw you were in danger, I had to do something.” / “When I heard you call for help, I didn’t even think.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]

The second line is dependent on whether or not Clementine blamed Violet before, as her and Louis walked the exiled to…exile. And stuff.

But, her account as to why she ran right for Clementine, and pulled an arrow on Lilly says everything I got so crazy, I didn’t even think, I had to do something. Clementine roused a trigger.

This time, in a very good way. Well, as good as the circumstances. In any case, this does count as a trigger because it’s inciting an emotional response, and given Violet’s wording, a fight-or-flight. (I realize triggers are specific for negatives; for the sake of brevity, I don’t care. I still say it counts.) It’s the reason why, before, when I detailed how I personally get with my anchors, I do similar things. No, not literally pull an arrow on someone, but I act on impulse without care, because I just want to satisfy their needs to the absolute fullest. It’s genuine, but it’s also triggering—under a positive connotation.

After this, of course, we push into Violet leading the school as they prep for an attack, with Clementine right alongside her. Whatever happens during this time is unknown, just that the school built-up the walls, laid their defenses, and focused on instruments to help, such as traps and explosives. Shortly after the time-skip, of course, we get the belltower sequence.

Starting with an inquiry:

“I know you came back for medicine, for A.J, but after that, you could’ve just left. Avoided all the bullshit with the raiders. Why didn’t you? Sorry, I know that puts you on the spot. You don’t have to answer. We’ve all got our reasons.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet asks something that has likely been on her mind for a while, but then… Not backtracks, but she does relinquish the pressure for that answer.

As their time at the belltower continues, it’s clear where the question came from.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just…talk so much. It’s just, I’ve watched people leave before. Family, friends. They never come back. But you did. And now I can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here. Um. Shit, that sounds so much dumber when I say it out loud. You know what I mean.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet’s hesitancy to speak her mind, be vulnerable, is interesting, particularly because it’s about doing so too much. It’s a very specific one, with ambiguous implications. This could be an anxiety she put on herself, or, this was something that she took after a mention that she was talking too much, getting too personal, one way or another. Then there’s also another thing, where it sounds dumber than she intended. As though when speaking her mind, Violet has an idea of what to say, but she doesn’t know quite how to articulate it.

This is a really good line of dialogue, so that latter insecurity is just that: an insecurity.

Nevertheless, this speaks volumes because it’s the first verbal admittance to an issue with abandonment. All the adults left her life, and never returned. Those include her parents, who never tried to get back to the school. Her grandfather died, so not his fault, but her grandmother shot herself right behind Violet. Which is abandonment, and really fucked to do. The teachers of Ericson’s…

Then fellow students. Most probably died, including Brody. And the twins were taken away.

Abandonment is a huge thing.

So we turn to the route where Violet is taken. And it’s not good. Violet reacts as predictably as this essay has outlined.

[Clementine] “Vi? What happened? Are you okay? Violet, talk to me… We’re here to take you home.” [Violet] “I looked for you. When they grabbed me, I saw…you let them take me. I’m just supposed to forget that because you’re here now?” [Violet, if platonic] “Some fucking friend you are.” [Violet, if romanced] “Some fucking feelings you had for me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

Here we have now a fresh faultline within her and Clementine’s relationship. It brings ambivalence. Upon seeing Clementine, she’s plunged into an episode.

And Violet splits. Her image of Clementine is distorted, so she falls back to the same pattern she did with Brody, and she is hostile.

[Clementine] “What’s wrong with you, Vi? Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.” [Violet] “No, Clem. I’m done. This whole situation is so fucked! At least here I have Minnie…” [Clementine] “You mean the Minnie that betrayed us?” [Violet] “Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

We also have Violet manipulated on top of that, led instead by Lilly and Minnie’s word, not Clementine. Because BPD primes people to manipulation, especially in times when they’re at their most vulnerable. But, throughout these interactions, we do see Clementine attempt to console her, and talk.

Violet, however, is not open to. She is not in the right state of mind. This is a BPD episode, so Clementine is not able to get through to her here. Violet does not trust her—too much ambivalence. Mitch’s death is fresh on her mind, she’s been lied to by Minnie about what happened to Sophie, and with that lie, she was told that more people would die if they did not listen.

And of course, the more time is spent, Clementine starts to get frantic as everything escalates because there’s a fucking bomb ticking away in the deck down below. So there comes about an urgency, and she can’t spend that valuable time consoling Violet.

So she starts chipping away at the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re gonna get us all killed!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

And Violet does precisely what she said she would do, and she attempts to stop Clementine herself. Because there’s Minnie again, but she also doesn’t want anyone else to die either.

Lucky for Clementine, she is stronger, and she is able to overpower Violet within a minute. However, in trying to get the cells unlatched, then to find her way to A.J, she herself is overpowered by Minerva. The urgency and stress associated backs Clementine to a corner. She still doesn’t want to see Violet hurt, so, she explains,

[Clementine] “We planted a bomb on the boat!” [Violet] “Fuck you, there’s a bomb! Mitch is dead! You just… Fucking go!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

…and again, Violet does not trust her. Mitch’s death is still fresh on her mind. Everything that Lilly and Minnie fed to her is still present.

Then, the bomb goes, and it takes Violet’s sight with it. Even on the beach, she asks for Minnie, amidst confusion because, somewhere down the line, they got separated. Louis has to be the one to support her. By this point, and some beats after, it feels like this is another Brody. Like there’s no turning back, not until a long, long year where Clementine would be in the same shoes.

Minnie makes herself known, though. She’s off in the woodland, with her people. 

And that is when this Violet has the wool pulled from her blinded eyes, because she realizes what happened.

The moment is brief. It’s very easy to miss. Yet, the attempts Clementine gave on that boat to console her, before the urgency really began to set in, was not fruitless.

Violet tries to apologize:

“Clementine? The stuff I said on the boat, in the cell, I, uh…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Beach] 

It’s not the right time for it. The schoolkids need to get off that beach, but this brief moment is huge.

The thing about episodes is, yes, in the moment, the individual is not consolable. There’s no reasoning with someone who is shut down. However, the attempts to try and console, and/or any verbal promises to leave the door open for when they’ve calmed down, the effort can be recognized and appreciated.

Once Violet snaps out of it, that’s precisely what it was. She understands that Clementine was never trying to hurt her, nor did she come to her disingenuous. Clementine was there to bring her back, because the situation was exactly as Violet herself said—fucked.

But still… Clementine was there to bring her back. 

Either way, Clementine proved herself to Violet, because down this route, she left twice, and came back both times.

Of course, the night does not end there. Clementine loses a leg. Another schoolkid is gone.

So through the weeks thereafter, Violet gave herself the time, and then, she tries again with the apology:

[Violet] “I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Clementine] “It’s okay. You went through hell in that boat, and I let that happen.” [Clementine, if platonic] “I’m just glad we got you out of there.” [Clementine, if romanced] “I’m just glad I got you back. I was so worried I’d lost you.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

In this apology, Violet articulates the position she was in, and admits the kind of influence Minnie was to her—not a good one. And in turn, Clementine acknowledges her. She doesn’t demean Violet for what she did. On top of that, she expresses how she’s just happy that Violet is there in the moment.

This route is bittersweet. We have the beginning, where Violet is guarded, then she warms up to Clementine, finds an anchoring point, and acts upon a fierce loyalty. Which then is hurt when Clementine chooses to save Louis instead. The time on the boat is very bitter because…the truth about borderline is, yeah no, it does not care who the person is to the mentally ill. The disorder is a disorder for a reason. It will hurt, and it will put a strain and test a relationship.

Then you just have the big fuck you axe where Minnie…effectively was the one who managed to wound Clementine, have her get bit, and then lose the leg. Which isn’t really how an eye for an eye goes, but that’s what this route goes with.

But then…, it’s sweet. Because Clementine did the right things, with what stress she was under.

She tried to talk to Violet, and in doing so, she left a door open for Violet to crawl back through when the time was ready. It was sooner rather than later for her, since Minnie… Whatever. However, it’s an apocalypse; a boat was just blown the fuck up. So while it was the time for Violet, it was not the time for literally anyone else. Ergo, a second attempt, to which there was resolve.

Clementine and Violet did not make the same mistake that Brody and Violet did.

And that’s what saves the relationship.

Now, let’s waltz all the way back and save Violet, just to show what Clementine and her do right to build a healthy connection, whereas her and Minnie went wrong. To do this, taking a brief visit to the romantic will help in dissecting an evolution found as the episodes progress.

After the bits of dialogue in the beginning of this section, Clementine can choose to confess her feelings for Violet. It can be solidified by a kiss, or a question for a relationship, or…a meek silence, to which Violet is able to read and feel the same. Clementine can also express confusion, in that she needs the time, but express the interest all the same.

There’s a sweet moment here, and with the kiss, it can also be a touch awkward because…

Okay, they kind of flounder. Violet more so. Which is interesting to note, because Violet “supposedly” was in a relationship before. Sure, the moment on its own doesn’t mean an experienced person wouldn’t be any less awkward, but with the following steps in their relationship, it does support the suspicion this essay has in that she never had a reciprocated, romantic relationship with Minnie.

The moment where Violet asks Clementine to dance, and is nervous to do so, is one of those steps in the relationship:

“When you told me you have feelings for me, I was shocked. Then I started thinking. There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before? [. . .] Do you…wanna? Just us. No one else around. I mean, I know it’s kind of weird, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to try.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

It’s a step in way of romance (Clementine even remarks after how they’re getting better), but it’s also a step in Violet’s confidence in being vulnerable with someone. She’s still clearly anxious here. Violet still has some of that self-deprecation, and it comes back if Clementine rejects the offer because the idea was stupid, or something along those lines.

But she still does ask. And it’s a big ask, because this is important to Violet. So if Clementine reciprocates the dance, it’s yet another sweet moment, and it builds the confidence within for this relationship further.

Before the night, Violet can tell Clementine how she got to Ericson’s. Then, through the night itself, she backs Clementine every step of the way. Shoots Minnie. Escapes with the schoolkids, only to come back and find her with Tenn and A.J, safe and sound.

During their walk, Violet opens up again. This time, there is none of that self-deprecation, and Violet even gets choked up—but she’s not really ashamed for it, she just continues and says her piece.

“While we were looking for you guys, and I… I thought you might be…gone for good…, um, shit. I was trying to figure out what I’d do if you were gone, and I realized how goddamn stupid I was. About Minnie. For a whole fucking year. I was so wrapped up in losing her and Sophie, I pushed away everyone who tried to care about me. Marlon, Brody, Louis. Even you and A.J. I tried my damnedest not to care about either of you. And I still couldn’t tell you why.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]

She admits everything. Is so very open to Clementine, and tells her what is on her mind. There’s Minnie. There’s what she regrets.

[You were afraid] “I was a goddamn coward. I’m not a coward anymore.” [I’ve done the same thing.] “And then you wonder why you fight so hard to stay alive. I don’t wonder anymore.” [You cared about me.] (Platonic) “I didn’t expect to find a friend like you, not ever again. But I’m really glad I did.” / (Romantic) “Yeah, I did. Way more than I meant to. I’m still kind of amazed we found each other, you know?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]

By this point in the story, Violet has undergone her arc.

She is a changed person because of Clementine’s influence, and she sees what she either didn’t see before, or did but had forgotten. Through a rebound, because Violet just needed a second chance to redeem herself.

Now…, she didn’t expect to find a friend like Clementine ever again? It’s interesting that Violet indicates Clementine was a second chance with the platonic route, not the romantic. Is this her quietly admitting that Minnie was never beyond a friend, actually? Or is this in reference to Brody and Sophie instead?

I dunno. Just found that interesting, since she could have said an equivalent for the romantic dialogue. In any case…

There is something so profound with how this relationship contrasts the ones which came before. As a friend or partner, Clementine never gets to the point of Minnie’s idealization, nor Brody’s devaluation. Both are antithetical to each other because they balance on the same scale—that being insecurity. Violet cared for Minnie and Brody deeply, and those emotions are genuine.

However. 

Minnie was put on a pedestal because there were faultlines to that relationship which Violet did not want to face. Brody, instead, was degraded because rather than faults, it was easier to ignore the good sides to Brody. And the good sides were a really, really sweet girl who dreamed of a better life—something that Violet could never see for herself after the twins.

Then there’s Clementine.

Even at their worst moment, where Violet’s trust in Clementine waned, she still did trust her. Clementine told her there was a bomb. Violet snapped because Mitch was the one who knew explosives, and he was dead. And yet, she got herself blinded because she knew Clementine wasn’t lying to her. She trusted her enough to know…

Well yeah. There’s a bomb.

Beyond that, however, Violet decides to do some arts and crafts, even though she says they’re stupid. Or Violet’ll ask for a dance that she’s desperately yearned for. She’ll talk to Clementine, a lot, even if she didn’t mean to do it “so much.”

Clementine as an anchor never truly corrodes. It’s tested down one of the routes, yet by the end of it, the relationship is maintained.

…there’s a final note which taps into this.

We come back again to identity one last time. For a brief anecdote—nestled within the shadows of what exhaustion this essay has gone over with Minnie and Brody, and now Clementine—, but an important one. Violet’s sense of identity will remain to be untold because we don’t have that perspective. She never talks about herself like that, so there’s no true insight for Clementine to gather.

Yet there are scant traces of identity diffusion, or an incoherent identity, ceaselessly disturbed by external influences.

This calls back to a copycat nature where borderline personalities will imitate in order to find stability. Ambitions, beliefs, interests—these all go right along with it, because they very well can change, and do so radically. Impulsions in way of severe life choices are made on the foundation this nature provides.

And that foundation is not strong.

There is no way to truly understand and deconstruct Violet’s sense of identity, yet, her behavior and choices made throughout the season can give us something to chew on.

Between the two routes, Violet is…a hair shy from being an entirely different person. The Violet Clementine brings onto the boat is not the same as the Violet she meets there. By contrast, Louis remains consistent; bring him on the boat, and he acts as expected—same with when we find him…without a tongue.

One is Clementine’s Violet. The other is Minerva’s Violet.

In both routes, Violet’s impulsion changes her life’s trajectory. She either shoots Minnie, or, she goes after the bomb and blinds herself. In one route, she’s outspoken, combative to the Delta, and fiercely loyal to the school; in the other, she does behave like how Minnie described her—never could talk to people, never to be class president. The Violet in that second route is withdrawn and quiet…

But she does confront Clementine.

She mimics Minerva’s newfound bellicosity that she dawned from the Delta, and it’s pitted against Clementine by following both her and Lilly’s word.

Going back to the first episode, where Brody tells Clementine that Violet withdrew herself from everyone, a lot of that was depression. Violet also actively told herself to push everyone away (…except Tenn, a remnant of the twins). However, there is a read here that she withdrew herself because there was no one left for Violet to mirror. She reverted herself back to the girl who sat in front of the television, with her grandmother’s fresh corpse just behind her.

Not to say that Violet doesn’t have a personality on her own. No, she still does. Having a weak sense of identity doesn’t automatically mean that there’s no identity at all. It can just mean the self-perception of identity is weak, but given that it is a self-perception, what is Violet going to draw from if she doesn’t…know how to read herself?

So Clementine meets Violet in the midst of this. She’s sarcastic and grates for a minute about the car. She keeps up a wall between her and Clementine. But by the end of the episode, and the start of the second, here Violet is cleaver at hand, about to lead the school.

Marlon scathes when she stands toe-to-toe. Talks about her being difficult again—but that in itself is ambiguous, because does this mean she’s gone toe-to-toe before, or does this mean Violet has a tendency to be inconsistent? And was that night another inconsistency?

But then… Louis. He admires the fact that Violet is like his white knight. He relies on her to protect him, because he knows that there is no doubt—she will.

Then being a leader. That comes as a surprise to presumably everyone. There’s a few points of dialogue that suggest it, others that blatantly say it, and then more few beats where we see the contention between Violet’s leadership and the schoolkids.

There’s conflict here. Violet is inconsistent in who she wants to be.

And it’s just that, isn’t it?

The TWDG community has long since decided that Violet’s arc is about letting go of Minnie (for those who see past the “rebound” thing), and self-discovery. Which is still true, but through the lens of BPD, there’s another layer to this. It’s about learning to let go despite disorder. And then, it’s learning what she wants from people, and who she wants to emulate, again, despite disorder.

What kind of person does Violet want to be?

And this is distinct from Louis, because with Louis, it is also a self-discovery. He is care-free, live in the moment, to a detriment. To be quite frank, the only reason why he got that far into the apocalypse was because he relied on his community. Not because he couldn’t contribute, but because he has his fair share of self-depreciation.

But there is no question. He knows who he is, and he knows the kind of man he wants to be. It’s why Louis does talk about his sense of self as much as he does.

Whereas Violet really doesn’t, perhaps because she can’t. All of what she confines in Clementine is the fact that things get overwhelming, and she gets confused. Quite frequently. But also, her relationships. Everything external for her, because… Again, she struggles to articulate what’s going on internally, because of that confusion. It takes time for that articulation to be feasible.

Violet has a patchwork identity. She’s kept traits of others—such as the singing. Granted, everybody does this. However, there’s her own within patchwork, but those have gone largely unexplored in the past.

Then here’s Clementine, the catalyst to this arc.

Which begs the question, why? What about Clementine has this impact on Violet?

Something about her draws Violet in. 

At first, yeah. Clementine’s new. There’s an air of mystery around a girl who totals a car at Ericson’s front lawn, with a kid in tow. But that mystery alone doesn’t equate to a cleaver pulled, guarding the new people from the rest—her own people.

The answer is rather simple: Violet is mirroring Clementine, so all there is to do is look at that reflection. And we find a leader. We find someone who is compassionate, and does everything to fight for their own. Actually fight. Tooth-and-nail. Someone who does whatever it takes to survive, even if that means rubbing the good ol’ walker jelly, or, taking risks to secure a bag of food.

Clementine’s compassion for people is evident once she wakes up, and she has A.J by her side. Her skills in leadership, her drive to fight, to survive—those are all made very clear at the train station, with both Louis and Violet following her lead.

So Violet mimicked. She found the same traits within herself, then elevated them. Brought them to the surface.

As the relationship continues to build—platonic or romantic—, Violet finds reciprocation. She’s not just emulating what Clementine would like to see. After all, she was sat in the headmaster’s chair while Clementine and A.J were still exiled. That indicates how Violet found, if not a comfort, a consolation in that part of herself.

The reciprocation continues whenever Clementine responds to her, and she validates Violet, she shows interest in what Violet says, and what Violet wants to do. Violet can ramble on and on as long as she wants, and Clementine would still listen. Violet (if romanced) can ask for a dance, and Clementine would oblige. Either way, Violet gives Clementine a pin. Clementine puts it on.

It's that compassion, and it cascades authenticity off Clementine to the people she surrounds herself with. She’s also someone who feels strongly. This character is a very empathetic person. Throughout S1, Clementine was perceptive of the people around her, and she cared. Deeply so. S2, the same thing, even if her morality began to grey. The start to closing herself off to protect herself was present. S3 as well, especially in her drive to find A.J once she learned he was still alive, out there somewhere.

Throughout the seasons, there are also plenty of moments where her empathy shows. Clementine does genuinely feel what the people around her express. Like with Louis, when his tongue is cut. You can hear in her voice how pained she is, regardless of the relationship itself. She’s pained because Louis is.

And given what she’s lived through on top of that? Clementine would absolutely put 100% in a relationship, enough to match someone like Violet.

There is another reason to this why, and the thought struck me when I was reminded of an easter egg during Violet and Clementine’s scene up on the belltower. A constellation, which Clementine can draw for herself, and he’ll wink right back at her:

Kenny.

This connection is an interesting one to make for a scene with Violet. It’s cheeky first and foremost. 

Regardless, there’s a parallel drawn here. Violet and Kenny are very similar, in that…Kenny likely had BPD. TWDGhas two seasons, then a couple flashbacks, where we can read it so. That man was volatile himself. Fiercely loyal, but could absolutely flip on a dime if his perception of the people around did not align with what he desired—it’s why he’s so fickle with Lee, to the point the gameplay reflects it, and then Clementine as well, because this behavior was the ultimate antagonist. His spiral down mental health escalated, and escalated, and escalated.

And he’s guilty. Tells Clementine that to leave him, or to shoot him, is the right choice to make.

But should the two survive together, with dreams of driving down to Florida, we find that he…is okay. He’s stable. His anchorage with Clementine and A.J is strong, without ambivalence. In this storyline, she sees that with people like him, sticking around through the bullshit can be worth the trouble.

Of course, it’s also a testament whether or not it is worth it. Some people, including myself, left Kenny in S2. Because the turmoil through the season was just that significant.

He genuinely cares, but like my mom, Kenny still hurts. Especially in S2. Because despite himself, he just could never seem to get past what he felt, and his impulses.

Clementine’s relationship with Kenny varies across different choices made, and the interpretations thereof. My personal interpretation of Kenny will contrast wildly to another. And that’s okay.

But whatever the interpretation is, and the choices made, Clementine has experience with people like Violet. She’s lived through the type of behavior conditions BPD and alike bring. She knows how to navigate them, and find healthy grounds.

Clementine keeps an open line of communication with Violet. Expresses interest, and accepts what Violet herself has to offer. But she also has her boundaries. For one, A.J. He is her priority. Two, when Violet fights her, Clementine fights back because it’s not okay—do not lay a hand on me. Now, whether or not she would’ve fought like she did if there was no bomb, and A.J was still in the cell…

I don’t know. I assume it would’ve been one of those major choices of the game. Either talk her down, or fight.

…similar to what Lee has with Kenny, up in the attic after the house in Savannah is swarmed, or on the train before that.

Bringing Kenny into the conversation is…funny, in a way. At least to me. I write all this, because TWDG secured its place in my heart by being the very thing I needed through a really, really bad year where my mental health (BPD) reared its ugly head. TWDG as a whole, but S2 especially. I realize why so many people have issues with the season, and I get it. It’s only natural for that to happen when every season has its distinctive personality—not everyone will gel with its voice. That, and it does have its fair share of flaws.

But if it was not for S2, I would not be in the fandom. Because that season was 2019 boiled down to the pure chaos I inadvertently put myself through, and it did so by having me play a character who when she was taken seriously, she just could not do it right, then…, when she wasn’t, it was out of neglect, where the adults put themselves first. Every. Time. And…one of those adults was a blunt reflection of it all.

Up until the final moment. The breaking point.

It’s how I felt inside my head. And still do, sometimes. When I’m stuck inside a season rooted in instability—a winter—, things just keep happening, and there is no end, even though I try to maintain the fantasy of peace in those slow moments. But…there’s just no end. There’s only escalation.

It was something I needed to experience in isolation, where I understood that it’s just a game, and it’s within the scope of 7.5 hours.

Swiftly thereafter, I started writing. Because again, it’s what I’ve always done. So AYDF came to be, where Clementine’s an alcoholic, but not because she’s legitimately an alcoholic in the gameplay. I get she’s not; my Clementine is an alcoholic because…it’s an obscure remark of borderline, and an exploration wherein I thought to use an entirely different disorder to express such a thing. In part because I’d yet to really (re)consider BPD (it wasn’t until some time later that I understood), but also…I’m a storyteller. Having alcoholism represent BPD is interesting.

It’s all why I adore TWDG, and my Clementine, and ADYF. Together, they’re an anchor of mine.

Clementine and Violet’s relationship included, because I did not expect to find Violet. I knew about their relationship before playing—heard it whilst I did light research on which games to buy. But I didn’t expect to find a character who…also emulates what S2 did for me. Just, in a more matured light than who I was in 2019. Also didn’t expect the relationship to provide growth for my Clementine in regards to these personalities, because mine did absolutely struggle the first time—with Kenny, and the devastating choice she made.

Cuz like.

Oops. A.J’s still alive. Um. Whelp.

(…for context—because I know the assumption—, no, Jane was not there. I left S2 with both her and Kenny dead. Clementine just shot the last adult who could’ve helped A.J.)

To see the chances where Clementine is the person Violet needed—to treat her well—, and take those chances, I didn’t expect to find Violentine as this embodiment of a healthy relationship despite borderline. It’s not perfect—obviously it’s not—, but all things considered, it is healthy by the end, no matter the route.

It’s regardless of whether or not Violet actually has BPD. She’s not diagnosed, and I don’t intend to have her be diagnosed. But at the same time…, this essay kinda makes it clear that Violet is a textbook example anyway. A good one to me.

And a good one to A.J.

[A.J, & Serving an Example]

Throughout this essay, the priority has been clarifying BPD, and unveiling what it feels like. A mechanism that may lead to the disorder, then the mechanisms that the disorder itself deploys. How it effects the person, in their identity or, most notably with Violet, relationships.

And the way Violet articulates herself, through the several dialogue lines within this post, it is evident that she’s aware. There’s a self-deprecation to it, but, Violet knows her issues and what it does, whether or not she knows its name—BPD, or something else entirely. Given the ambiguity that the game allows, it is still left unsaid.

But that’s the first thing: she does talk about it. Violet knows herself well enough to.

Not only that, she demonstrates a responsibility in her disorder.

With this essay, there hasn’t been much in the way of responsibility. Because it isn’t until A.J enters the discussion do we truly see this come to light.

I will be the first to say that, while I can sympathize with other people of the diagnosis—even empathize—, I am rather critical when it comes to being responsible of our actions. From knowing a trigger but being around it anyway, to refusing to communicate when a hand reaches out—there’s issues I take. Because there are things that needs to be done with BPD, and those are not it.

The fact of the matter is, sorry, it fucking sucks. But also, it is your disorder, as it is mine. It isn’t your fault that it happened, but it did, and you’re kinda just stuck living with it. It’s not the responsibility of anyone else to fix and manage every aspect of BPD.

Finding people like Clementine, or a support system like the schoolkids, will do wonders because, yes, they can help. But Clementine, and the schoolkids, also have their fair share of shit. To expect them to drop everything is unfair, the same way that being expected to just drop your BPD for someone else’s sake is unfair. 

It’s a give and take. There will be a ceaseless line of dialogue in the name of boundaries, and clarification, and everything in between.

So we return to Violet’s apology to Clementine.

“I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

She doesn’t excuse it. Violet gives reason—and that reason is, more or less, she was not in a right mind—, and she articulates what position she was in, but there is no excuse.

Because the difference between an excuse, and an apology, is that one is done with the intention to be forgiven, the other is done with the intention to resolve—the forgiveness is a hope, not the reward.

Being able to do such a thing, unprompted, speaks volumes to Violet’s maturity, and her understanding of her own mental health. For people with BPD, more often than not, it’s easier to blame someone else because…looking inward, and realizing you royally fucked up again is not easy. Or, it’s easier to use apologies to seek a reward—like forgiveness—, and to indulge in a brief gratification that may ensure a person stays.

Well, okay. The same can really be said for everyone. BPD, however, does has its way in amplification.

Nevertheless, A.J is able to witness this moment, take it in. It’s a lesson in itself.

But given Violet is saved, and Louis is mute, there is another moment which not only speaks volumes, but it serves to A.J clarity.

After the last meal shared in the game series, and Violet with Clementine deliberates over a caravan, A.J can ask Violet one thing:

“Aren’t you still mad I killed Tenn?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

It’s a fresh wound for her. The pain of it is laid clear across Violet’s face. However, in response,

“The thing you said on the bridge…, that he was messing up all the time. It wasn’t something new, you know. Tenn got himself or other people into trouble all the time, long before you guys got here. He was always so lost. He lived in a world that just…isn’t there, you know? And that’s why I tried to look after him. But when I was pulling him away from the walkers, and Minnie, I could also see…he just wasn’t there anymore.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

Or, it’s complicated, but she understands why. Violet is able to acknowledge where A.J comes from. She does, and she sets aside her emotions. There is no corrosion here. Violet doesn’t devalue A.J for this, even though the gravity of his choice would’ve provided a validity. A warped and intense validity, but one all the same.

They trade more words, and amongst them, Violet asks a damning question, and A.J accepts:

[A.J] “So you’re mad, but sad.” [Violet] “Can I be that for a while?” [A.J] “Yeah, it’s okay.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

A.J acknowledges her. She asks for further acknowledgement—the time to heal.

And he understands, and he allows her the room.

…the thing about Violet and A.J, in contrast to Louis and A.J, is that A.J looks up to these characters for very different reasons. Louis is a great guy. I want A.J to be like him, or better yet, a matured version of Louis. He’s charming, charismatic, good-natured, and through the game, we do see that he begins to donate an effort to do better.

Really, it’s not a mystery as to why A.J grew attached so quickly.

Violet, meanwhile, is confusing. She’s not that great with people, is instead a bit of a pill to swallow, and with her trauma comes a volatility.

Sure, she was the one who stood-up for Clementine and A.J when Louis didn’t, but in playing this season, I’ve always gotten the implication that A.J—at least initially—does have a preference for Louis. And I say implication because it’s never said outright, but there are some dialogues and reactions of his that had me wonder. I also don’t mean he doesn’t like Violet, no, but more that he doesn’t necessarily understand what Clementine sees in her.

At least, that isn’t until time passes, and more is spent with Violet, does she start to grow on him as well.

Louis models a more…digestible person. He has his problems, but they are easy to explain and understand. He was a spoiled brat. He sabotaged a marriage over something so very petty. And now, where his upbringing still rears its head through his immature work ethic, he struggles with deep insecurities.

There is a complexity here. One that does deserve its own essay, though I’m not really the right person for that. (Here’s an essay, by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale. Pretty good. And they gots a lot of essays like it. …but also, again, sorry for tagging; I know this is absurdly long. Lol.)

Violet, meanwhile, comes with a confusion because her issues are so steeped in stigma. Which is to be expected in conditions like BPD, where…yeah, there’s the chance she will lash out, do things she doesn’t mean, because a switch was flipped.

Where Louis is someone that A.J would like to aspire to, Violet seem to stand as a figure A.J can grow to appreciate. Having her as a model gives A.J the chance to understand that with people like Violet, you give them space and time. Work with them, and if they are genuine people, they will prove themselves worth the effort.

It does take effort, however, and the time spent with them.

And if there is no effort given, and no time spent…

Yeah. Violet will be that wallflower.

[Conclusion]

There’s nothing else this essay really has to say at its core. BPD is a very, very confusing disorder. Both internally, and externally. Stigma doesn’t help. It is, after all, a huge reason why I wrote this.

Because the stigma is quite honestly the worst thing about BPD. In many resources—whether they’re linked below, or you find them on your own—, you’ll find that a BPD diagnosis often comes with others right along with it. Addictions, eating disorders, depression…

To those who don’t know better (or maybe they do), that’s just…natural. It’s how it is.

But I remember going to my family, telling them that there is something wrong, only…to be assured otherwise. Not for my sake, but for theirs. Because BPD isn’t greatly understood, and when it is, realizing that none of them got to save me from my mother in time has its way in denial. What my mother did wasn’t right, however, I could’ve ended up like her. 

Just not through those initial traumas.

Rather, I could’ve, had I made the same mistakes she did with the silent traumas thereafter—decades, now, where the people around me refuse to acknowledge my words, and listen to me, because I know the look in the eye, and I sometimes find it in the mirror. Those initial traumas may have been the first lashing, but it’s the time after which seals BPD within a person. Because the condition goes unchecked. It ferments. People tell you one thing, but you feel another, and as a child, you decide to trust their word, not your own body. Which breaks you. Gets to a point where there’s no real return, because people like me weren’t allowed to learn otherwise.

Understanding what happened to me was a very lonely experience, despite the sheer amount of people I had around me.

…and it hurts, somewhere deep in the recesses of my alexithymia, that my abuse never came from people who hated me. My mother didn’t, not in those initial years. None of my family did, in the decades into adulthood. But still, they hurt. The abuse came from the people I least want to admit, in ways that media would deem too boring for our idled attention spans.

I proclaimed that BPD is when a mechanism deploys, and the cost means a sacrifice of one integral function. It is still true—the mechanism, alongside the personality, and that specific initial trauma will influence how that BPD is expressed.

Yet, Borderline Personality Disorder happens when a mechanism deploys at a great cost, and that sacrifice is never restored. It is the neglect of the individual’s emotional turmoil after catastrophe that does it, where the same mechanism festers until it is there to stay as an ugly, depraved scar.

It is the disorder where a person was never allowed to heal, despite the mind and body screaming that they need to.

So when I hear BPD and the diagnoses alongside, I hear yet another time where someone likely knew there was something wrong, but they chose to find stability by other means, because it wasn’t found in the people around. Addictions bring those dopamine hits that BPD elevates. Eating disorders, where maybe…they can find something about themselves to control. Because there is none day to day, nor in relationships. And depression? Honestly, it speaks for itself; if a person manages to find themselves with a tumultuous anchor, or no anchor at all, it’s easy to slip into.

Or, if the diagnoses are born conditions, like ADHD or autism, or others, like schizophrenia, those speak to a concern where those conditions were left unchecked, and they festered as BPD, they were what predisposed it…

Yet, when I hear a story like Violet’s, it is a true reassurance.

Sure she’s not diagnosed. But still. The game doesn’t hide anything. It doesn’t “assure” the player that Violet isn’t this type of person, that she isn’t literally sick in the head.

TFS shows her issues quite plainly. And it’s because it does, and refuses to lie to make anyone feel better, does the game promise something that is so, so desperately yearned for in those with borderline.

It’s acknowledgement.

To tell someone that, yes, you’re not confused that you feel confused amid a chaos. You are. But there are ways to work with it, and around it. You can, actually, have strong relationships with people, and in those like Clementine, even if/when you fail, they will stay, because they understand.

To tell someone all of that is a first step towards understanding BPD, a disorder so shrouded because of stigma, and little else.

And so you have a character who still has her struggles with it, but she has a support system, and she’s taught herself enough to manage—did it well, considering the circumstances. She was left to her own devices. Sure, she had her grandparents to escape from home, but…, well. Yeah. After her grandma, Violet was then sent straight to the boarding school. The apocalypse struck. The adults left. And though her community still cherishes her, Violet…was designated as their wallflower.

So it’s funny, to have found this character this way, because Louis was right.

Violet does grow on you. If you let her, anyway. She can be suffocating.

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed.

Volt out.

Volt's Library (my writing) Clem Comic Essay #1 (canon stuff) Clem Comic Essay #2 (language)

Links: to start your own research

BPD (General) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (4 types); 4 (quiet BPD)

BPD (Stigma) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 (r/BPD)

BPD (Anchors/FP) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)

BPD vs Bipolar | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (comorbid BPD & Bipolar)

BPD (Identity Disturbance) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)

Enid doesn’t wake. She stirs, on occasion. There’s an itch down her nose, then a squirming of a brow, before she twists to find … you. As though your rot, sweet decay, is better than the infirmary’s cold. The ceramic tiles are basked in it. The grout as well. Every counter, drawer, shelf — the woods have fermented within pills and alcohol since Nevermore opened its doors.

And you have kept to her side. You’ve not left.

Your mouth is warm from the murmurings you slipped to her when the clinic was empty, and it was just you, and it was Enid. A poem, dredged from the depths of your decrepit soul. It swelled the room. Blue began to froth around her, those concord grapes. Didn’t understand. Still don’t.

That perfume on her is a soothing thing. And she’s hidden it away from you, until these moments.

It lingered when the nurses bustled in and shoved you aside. Lingers now when you’ve found your perch on a chair, hovered over Enid’s head and pillow. 

The watch in your vest pocket weighs heavier than it should. It reduced you to a fidget — absentminded — when the nurses did their work, until it pricked you, and left you now with a thumb stinging the fine line you cut off its glass. Blood pounds a dull rhythm in the wound. It’s the same swelled within your nose. It’s belligerent in every laceration you hadn’t yet realized you acquired.

Hollow, however, is your cruelest pain. A tight manglement, thick of sloughed oil. Pores bubble upon its surface. Air is in heavy smolder. Your velveted heart stirs in ways it shouldn’t. In ways … it hasn’t for far too long.

(In ways that you have longed for silently, fervently.)

The nurses step aside. Their voices are a blear to you. The words are between them, and they are careened to their desks, away from the shell of your ear. So you capture Enid’s hand. Her skin is smoother than the parchment your typewriter bludgeons in ink. And as your eyes trace her, you find a quirk of a thing: where her watch laid its loyalty, there is a pastel shadow banded around her wrist. Her skin is fair. And yet, it rejoices sun; her complexion matures beyond pastel shadow.

You keep the fact to yourself. You intend it to be a better stashed secret than the very watch in your pocket.

And you steal more. Her hand is crafted in lithe angles. Narrow, but should her fist close now, Enid would net yours whole. Leave little room for you to slip away.

…she … should be awake for you. Yet she is not.

Hollow churns. You smooth over drawls of knuckle. And then, you whisper the ends to your poem. You whisper in low tones, for Enid to hear, and Enid alone.

“Injertaré estas cicatrices tuyas en la memoria. Conoceré estas suturas mientras sanan… Y…”

A nurse’s shadow crosses lamplight. Your eyes dart as she strips her gloves and soothes the residual powder across her palm. There’s a hint of chlorine — another residual, biting to your nose.

“Y estas se desvanecerán. Serán los … caminos que suavizaré en tu piel, más profundos que el perfume.”

Enid is the harmony to your eyes. The colors painted within blonde canvas sing to you again. Has you think coral ocean — as if your soul castaway, adrift at her bedside, could ever have the wingspan to cradle her blue horizon.

You can’t. It’s the worst floundering visual for ego.

Because you are silent as you drown in what you can do. There is nothing. You grasp after a miserable hope that these sutures are enough, and that every stirring of your mind will scorn the way you intend.

There is a patchwork of bandages left behind. On her arms, shoulders. Most of those wounds are light. Mere scuffs or grazes — they are not a concern. Her face is cleared of blood now, and like her arms, her hands, much of what was left behind looked worse than what it is. Her lips, however… And her nose… They are a sore reminder of what you feared.

Your eyes are burning for her legs best of all. Because you did not miss the way her socks are flecked by fallen blood, nor were you blind to the gauze both nurses applied. How the white bloomed a vibrant shade. A wine. It bloomed the shade of her wine.

It scalds a violence. It starts and ends with that Omega.

“Now, for your nose, Miss Wednesday—”

You don’t bother your eyes. A hand waves her off.

The older nurse. Reeks like a stale, cobwebbed corner. Not stale Vampyrically, however. No. Lycan. She’s a wolf as well, and unless born intuition has left you, Omega. 

Your tongue rolls the iron in your mouth. Lobs together fresh and old — flakes of what you damned yourself last night to the beaded sinews from a fight won.

“Miss Wednesday. It doesn’t look broken, but it still requires my attention.”

You’re glaring at her from down your shoulder. A veteran to the school — her jade eyes are cutting, and brunette hair is fraught by white. You don’t break away. The same hand nudges the offered gauze already doused in alcohol. In peripheral, the gauze hangs in the air as though she is, despicably, truthfully, astounded. Be it the physical contact, or every grain of your existence, you’ve struck another cord of hers.

Her patience seems to perpetually be strained with you. It may be your tact, or it’s the chiding she does. Or both, because she knows the chiding will never find its place here, with you. Her brow tweaks and a lip squirms as though you pried a nail beneath her skin.

“What about Enid?”

[The Boring Ones]

My Clementine shot Lee, and she shot Kenny after he killed Jane. Very sadness. Got knots and tears in my throat.

So. There you go.

Anyway—

Okay, I am being a little bit of an ass. Of course there's a lot to analyze and evaluate with both deaths. Lee's is reflective of his character and what he wants for Clementine. S2's ending, meanwhile, is reflective of Clementine herself, just in a very different way; it's a test of loyalty and, given how I tend to play, a testament of what she would do at a breaking point; or, it could also be another decision of what's best for her, should the player choose based off of what information they have.

The main reason why I won't really consider these two of the "TWDG deaths that got to me" is… Well, for one, there's already been in-depth analyses of both, and while I could contribute, it would take analyzing their respective seasons as well, picking apart player choice, and yada yada. Secondly, this essay is more about the "smaller" deaths. Not the ones that are as emphasized in this way by the narrative. These deaths represent the losses along the way, and some of them hurt more than others, and get a rise.

That being said, one of them is related to these in how I processed the narrative, so one of these two will come up again. Just, less as a remark of the scene itself, and more a remark of the "smaller" death.

Anyhow, both of these scenes are catastrophic moments in the narrative either way. But because they are so catastrophic, they're not really relevant to this.

This is also what arguably makes this essay not that but instead an opinion piece. If I wanted to go in a more "essay" route (evaluation), I would have been focused on deconstructing the deaths that got to Clementine as a character and why, since that would be more of an analysis of TWDG, not the deaths that got to me because… I dunno. It's my feelings and my opinion.

And I feel like sharing it transparently here. Rather than using my own inferences or experiences as example.

[LUKE]

But! But! Luke's death was so stupid and didn't need to happen it was just a way for the season to be all depressing and stupid and—! And they could've walked around or crawled better on the ice and, and—!

Okay. I don't give a shit.

Not to say that I don't recognize the blaring narrative issues surrounding this moment, because I do. There is a lot to comment on; in fact, as I mentioned, this is one of the two deaths which will be analyzed in another essay. So in that essay, I will actually care about it.

Regardless, it's not that relevant here. Kinda. I won't indulge in it too much. There's no war in Ba Sing Se. Shh.

Luke's death is just tragedy, plain and simple.

The group is crossing this lake, desperate to just get out of the open winter and into some semblance of shelter. The house was never finished, but the fact that they still gun for it speaks to their desperation. …even if the game could have emphasized the desperation more, in the moment. But. Whatever.

With Luke's death, there's three different ways it can happen. Clementine listens to Bonnie, and goes to help Luke immediately. Clementine listens to Luke initially, and keeps the walkers off him while Bonnie goes against his word and tries to help. Both scenarios, two fall into the ice, that being Luke and whoever's closer. Then, there's a secondary option should Clementine try to save Luke thereafter, and she'll fall into the ice as well.

Bonnie's fate is also decided here. Depending on the choices, she'll die.

Regardless though, there was a slim chance that Luke was going to get out of that, if any at all. Once that ice started to break through, I don't really know if there would be anything he could've done. Some say he could've gotten closer to the ice to spread his weight better, so that it's not concentrated onto one point. However, Luke doesn't.

For one thing, the character may have been doomed due to his ignorance. If Luke didn't grow up around ice, he wouldn't have known.

Two, he was shot in his leg, and the walkers weren't helping things. So while yes, he may have had the chance to escape the ice, I don't know if Luke's mobility would have allowed it. Simply put, he was wounded by the shootout. And as S2 is concerned, this does represent the narrative's symbolic mark on him: Luke was wounded by a running motif of S2, which I will get to with Rebecca's death. It does say something. You know. Symbolically.

It's this slim chance, on top of the desperation, which has his death be the tragedy it is.

I always interpreted Luke, in that moment, realized he was out of luck. He knew his weight alone was too much, and anyone else—including the child, who's lighter than Bonnie—would've just exacerbated it.

Either way, Bonnie made it worse. Because she's desperate, and when you're desperate, the facts suddenly don't matter until said facts decide to rear their ugly heads.

Tried to save Luke. Fact of the matter was, that wasn't realistic.

Same way the group as a whole tried to save on time and energy, and just cross the ice. It could have been done. Everybody was in front of Luke once he got to that part of the ice, but… Caution was the sacrifice, and Luke got killed for it.

This reading of Luke's demise is another reason why I don't really care about how "unrealistic" it was, or how "stupid."

Was it stupid? Yes. Unrealistic? No.

Because people do die like this, and at a point in the season where the group got to a desperate point, it was only a matter of time before that eagerness to survive got someone killed. I firmly believe that's what his death was supposed to represent.

…the issues around it, which I will better deconstruct and analyze in another essay, boils down to the 1) confusion in the narrative, and 2) the fact that it's Luke. I don't mind that it was Luke, but I understand why people get upset that it's this character dying the way he did.

S2 does stumble a little bit in the reasoning behind them crossing the lake. I think desperation would have been the reason regardless, and it's a realistic one, but I do think they could've done a better job in really cementing that it was desperation. And then, also… The whole lake thing. There is one change that would've fixed everything, and it's a really simple one that was already established:

Make it a river. No, literally. Just make it so that there's no other way to cross. And also, if it was a river, have someone (I say Bonnie, Mike, or Kenny) freak out that they just need a break (which would've signaled that desperation). This being instead of just seeing the house, Kenny complaining, and Mike pointing out that they're there for supplies or something.

…which like, no Mike. You want the shelter too, you dingbat.

But, I digress.

Now, I'll go back to my final decision of S2, because Luke's death absolutely haunted that choice, hence why this death of S2 struck the way it did despite the narrative stumble. In the moment, no, I didn't really think about anything. I just had a visceral reaction and shot Kenny without even reading the other options.

Cuz I was feeling ✨spicy✨.

And by spicy, I mean agitated. There was a domino effect at play, one that Christa's separation incited. However, by this point, so much had already happened.

Then there's just Kenny.

Kenny would blow up, he'd feel remorse, and he'd apologize—like he'd done at the pylon. Then. He just. Turned around, and did the same shit thereafter, despite apology. He beat Arvo when Clementine needed a fire. Because she was climbing to Death's door with hypothermia closing in, and was still rattled from breaking through the ice in a panic to get Luke back.

But here Kenny was beating on a teenager. And when my Clementine went to stop him, he was again remorseful for accidentally hitting Clementine… Yet. Kenny still snapped at her. After that remorse on his face. Muttered a cruel line about "thought you liked this kind of thing" because she'd supported him before with Carver.

And over, and over, and over again. Until a breaking point.

A breaking point, which, I always found was marked by Luke's death in particular. He had been the catalyst to that season's final descent—like how the moment Lee got bit was S1's final catalyst. My Clementine fell into the ice for him, because panic and that desperation arose. She was pulled out, and within that timespan of needing a fire, there was Bonnie, who again didn't help and blamed Clementine. But then, Kenny decided to perpetuate the same cycle that had been a bane on her, even though he, again, apologized before. This same cycle that my Clementine relied on Luke and focus on AJ to escape from.

Except, all of a sudden, there was only AJ to escape to. Luke was gone.

So for my Clementine, he had been the catalyst because he had been the one adult she ultimately needed, regardless of his own shortcomings. She didn't know what to do with Jane, and she was losing her forbearance with Kenny because again, yes, he was a lot to navigate for a child.

And in conjunction with the imagery of Luke in the water (yikes dude, you don't look too good), yeah. It's in the top 3 for me.

[REBECCA]

I quite like Rebecca. I find her character interesting, especially as more time passes, and you realize her aggression in the beginning is…a farce, more or less. Not to say Rebecca can't be confident, or hostile, because we definitely get that side of her after she warms to Clementine, but, she is far more of an anxious woman trying to survive for her baby than anything else. She's stressed about who the father is. There's dead people just walking around. One of the potential fathers is hunting her down for the sake of "his" child.

And then there's just this random ass kid with a mauled arm, because Clementine was bitten. Just by a dog, not…a dead people.

So like yeah, Rebecca's so mean to Clementine in the beginning, but…Imma be honest, I don't know how many people wouldn't have at least been cautious of Clementine.

Once Rebecca does warm up to her, and we see more of that anxiety, and then her desperation/hope to have AJ… She's a nice lady. One of my favorite lines of hers is when she talks about AJ, she's hopeful because regardless of who she gives birth to, this is a new person she'd get to meet.

I just like her, so by the time she panics within the herd, and Clementine is there to help, of course I have Clementine oblige.

…now sure, did that reliance on her feed into the whole "child doing the adulting thing when she shouldn't have"? Well. Yeah.

But she's a nervous pregnant woman, I think asking for any kind of help when actively in a herd is the least concerning instance of "child doing the adulting thing."

She does die though. So. There's that whole thing.

I will say the one thing I do kind of wish is it should have mattered where it happened, or how it went, should the group choose to stay at the observatory deck to rest, or go to the nearby town as soon as they can. Rebecca is going to die regardless; she does not look good after giving birth, and I'm assuming it was both a case of 1) over-exhaustion, and 2) bleeding out that really weakened her, which leaves the hypothermia as that final nail in the coffin.

But, at the same time, the shootout would be at the spot it is regardless because that was where the Russian group had set their trap, it just so happens that Clementine came across Arvo before. And symbolically, so much of this death hinges on the fact that it starts this shootout. It is S2 at its core; if you want to summarize this season, this is the scene to do so.

Hence why I say kind of. I'm always going to value narrative significance over realism whenever there is a conflict of interest between the two. It's nice to have both, but stories are seldom perfect, so. Yeah. The group is at the observation deck for a few days, however, (if you choose to,) so I just…wish there was more of an impact than the dialogue right before the shooting. But, whatever.

Rebecca's death is depressing, and it's indicative of neglect.

Hence why it's here, in this post.

It's also why I will fight tooth and nail for this season, regardless of its shortcomings.

Unlike with Luke, I'll work my way backwards and start with the symbolism/narrative significance for the season before the moment itself.

S2 has a running motif of the Civil War, especially in the episodes after Howe's Hardware, however, you could also include Howe's in the theme. You have people working under a ruthless leader—including Rebecca, who could be bearing his child—, and those people escape. And what does Carver do? He chases them down, in the same manner that slave owners would chase down their slaves. And once he catches them, they're sent to forced labor, aside for the man (Alvin) who posed a threat to Carver's legitimacy as a father, and Rebecca, who was pregnant with a child he could raise like a crop to a field.

…which has me wonder if Rebecca and Alvin both being black, and Carver not was a coincidence, or a conscious choice. On top of Carver being someone fixated on the survival of a strong progeny.

Though as I said, the motif is especially found after Howe's Hardware, because that's when the season decides to be blunt. They find sanctuary in a Civil War site, from a museum to the observation deck. And sure, as much as it is a cheeky nod back to Lee...

This motif is S2's identity. You can't just separate the two and expect to get a grounded understanding of what S2 is as an environment. S2's about Clementine navigating the adult world way too soon, and growing up in the same manner. The environment she's put in is…a civil war.

And it being in winter is actually a very crucial element.

See: Fredricksberg, a battle set in Dec. 11-15 between Lee's Army of Northern Virginia and Burnside's Army of the Potomac… Hm.

I can (and probably will someday) go on and on and on.

Conflict like this is perpetuated throughout the season, and it's concluded with the ultimate civil conflict—between Kenny and Jane, the last two adults in Clementine's group. And it's also found at the time of Rebecca's death, because that sense of conflict is absolutely present given the shootout.

…except, what is interesting is Rebecca's death is the one scene that does not reference the Civil War. It references the United States' Revolutionary War.

Specifically, the shot heard round the world, which is derivative of that first shot which initiated battles in Lexington and Concord (April 19, 1775). The catalyst to the American Revolution, between the colonists, and the English—who were deemed to be invading.

Here, we have S2's core group, and then…another group. Who's distinctly foreign, given the Russian accent and language.

And the shot heard round this season is either dealt by Clementine herself, or Kenny, in order to put down Rebecca's reanimated corpse. The shot wasn't directed at either side here. However, it didn't matter, So in the confusion, the shootout began.

In the same way I can rattle on and on over the Civil War motif throughout, I can rattle on about this scene alone. I won't, aside for this:

This scene feels different because of the sheer amount of symbolism backing it. It's what I mean when I say this scene is S2 at its core. There's the revolutionary symbolism, which illustrates how the group does put aside their differences to fight a common enemy—that being the Russians here, but also the apocalypse itself, given Rebecca's reanimation. Yet, before and after this…, it goes back to the Civil War motif because the "common enemy" is not the central threat. The contention between everyone and their differences are.

So then, the moment itself...

There's this desolation to it. Rebecca died out in the open, still cradling AJ, and Clementine is the only one who notices.

That moment, where the adults are caught up in their own dispute, leaving the child to recognize the situation for what it actually is, and where she's forced to navigate on her own whether or not to take that first shot, or to have one of the adults (Kenny) do it...

It is the one of few deaths I can picture vividly without having to reference a screen.

And, it really speaks to that desolation. The one that the season is adamant to hammer home, because it wants you to miss Lee. To the point it actively uses its motif to kill two birds with one stone and do just that. S2 is where Lee becomes less a comfort, and more of a realization: he was an anomaly in the apocalypse.

Not all Lees were perfect, and did make huge mistakes, but Lee as a person always knew how to treat Clementine, and she never was put into these kind of positions where there's adults around, but there's something happening, why aren't you listening? Why don't you notice me? I need you to actually be there to support me.

It's a lot of why the season is the way it is, and why this scene in particular struck me the way it did. Because throughout it all, I was bombarded by the thought, how did it get to this point? It's nothing like S1's shootout where Clementine was ducked into safety immediately; here, she sees Rebecca, and then she's asked to contribute so that Luke can be a dumbass and dart from one cover to another.

I digress, though.

Like with Luke, there is a lot of narrative implications with Rebecca's death, and the trend will continue in Brody. For the sake of this post, that's telling of me more than anything else. But it is hard to separate the strings attached to each since, often times, whenever something really hits close, it's because there's other contexts to it.

And I also like storytelling. So. Duh.

For me, that other context with Rebecca is S2 as a whole, and the reason why S2 as a whole hits way too close to home is cuz um. Neglect when there's people around you hurts like a bitch. Owie. Thanks for the catharsis, I guess. But also thanks for the symbolic warfare stuff, I do come from a military family.

In any case, I will move onto the last death, because the death in itself is brutal, and Brody's walker is also just…terrifying.

[BRODY]

I like Luke. I quite like Rebecca.

And I really like Brody's character. It's a shame that she only was given so much time, and that's given you even choose to go fishing with her. But within that time, her character is solid. From her design to her dialogue and voice acting, and then to the tension she has with Violet—it's a nice bit of depth to have.

Like a pothole, neglected by the government for years, so there's enough room to dump the bodies.

Now that being said…, I don't mind that she dies so early on. For a number of reasons, but for the sake of this essay, her death really sets the tone, and it does a number of things that feeds into some of what the season explores.

For one, the gravity of the situation Marlon and Brody landed themselves in, right with the rest of the schoolkids. It also better contextualizes Marlon's character, and why he would be troubled youth. Because him bashing her head with a flashlight is a stark contradiction to what kind of person he prides himself to be, right down to how articulate he is in his verbiage.

Two, the state of the apocalypse. The fight between Clementine and Brody's reanimated corpse was a horror in itself, which had been the scene's intention. And that alone says a lot because Clementine knows how to fight at this point, the walkers the player encounters before this are all corroded, so...

Yeah, the apocalypse is still at large, just in a different way, and Brody presents that to us.

Before the reanimation, however, there is the death in itself.

And I can go on about symbolism, and narrative bullshit, and all that stuff cuz I'm a writer, blah blah blah… All the stuff that I did with the previous two deaths.

But I won't because Brody is distinct in that it's not the narrative strings attached that rattle me. The narrative bullshit comes with her reanimated corpse.

So when I see her death, I don't see the Civil War and American Revolution analogies like I do with Rebecca, nor the sentiment of desperation and a catalyst effect like I do with Luke.

All I see is brutality.

Brody's death is the most gutting of the games.

At least, not literally. And also to me, of course, since this is an opinion piece… Or whatever.

Brody is struck once in the head, mid-sentence as she is trying to tell Clementine the truth. And the moment it happens, Brody is completely disorientated.

She first asks, "What did you say?" Then she collapses. Is rendered blind, confused, and has to have her memory jogged to remember who Clementine is as Clementine kneels at her side.

And despite everything, Brody still tells Clementine everything she can.

But there is one line that absolutely guts me:

"Marlon'll kill me if I tell."

Brody is so out of it, she still has yet to truly grasp what happened.

Because. Brody...

Marlon already did.

She is actively dying from her own murder, because of Marlon, and she still is so scared that she tells Clementine the danger she's in.

My coal heart breaks whenever I hear that line, because it's a horrible way to go. One minute you're firm on you ground, telling someone what you need to say, and then next, you're just trying to cobble together the world around you before you're just…gone. That's it.

I wouldn't be surprised if Brody's last conscious moment was before the flashlight struck.

And, of course, the direction of this scene does everything. The voicework, the camera, the lighting. It all just works to elevate how dark, and how brutal this scene is.

Then we get to the reanimation, where again, it's a horror. The scene portrays it as a horror. There's the moment where Brody comes out of the shadows to snatch Clementine right back down into the basement. There's the parallel to Lee with the hammer and Sandra.

But ultimately, Brody serves as this season's reminder as to how dangerous TWDG's apocalypse remains to be. Sure, all the walkers now are decayed. They can't move as well. They don't hit as hard. So they only get really dangerous whenever they're in herds.

…yet, Brody's corpse is a huge threat. Why?

Well. While Brody's body was horking and growling in the shadows, Clementine is just waltzing around getting the flashlight and then a ruler to get out. She doesn't pay any mind to…Brody. Even though Clementine could clearly see that Brody was away from the broiler.

It's a false sense of security, which was ultimately how the apocalypse started in the first place; it took the world by surprise, and people panicked, and it spread all the more.

Not only that, Brody was a survivor. Her corpse is stronger than a lot of the earlier walkers because for the past many years, she had to build the muscle and dexterity to, you know, survive. And just before this scene, we see Brody knock Marlon flat on his ass because she's not dainty, here. She's really strong.

Maybe not quite on Clementine's level, but she's strong enough to pose a threat as a walker.

I just think it's cool. This death. And Rebecca's death. And Luke's death. I also like S2, I don't care.

Anyway that's it.

Enid has figured, months ago, that she might as well be dating an Eldritch horror.

At first, she thought that Wednesday is just an angsty little goth. Come to find, her aesthetic and snapped wit are the most outwardly charming things about her. Because, as much as Enid loves her, Wednesday is really, really fucked in the head. 

Fucked head or not, though, Wednesday has a heart. She does. Sure, it may be in her foot for all Enid knows, but watching how she plays along with Eugene’s bee-scapades, and how cordial she and Bianca have gotten, she knows there’s a heart of gold in Wednesday. (That or she’s color-blind and it’s not gold but rather, in fact, dirt.)

Not that it matters. After too long of a day, Enid is ready to collapse onto Wednesday’s bed and badger her until she stops her “hour of novel writing” in exchange for, uh, osculation. 

Some days the struggle is short-lived. Wednesday gets needy too. But other days, the “hour of novel writing” is extended to several, and a long, long pout-full sleep on her bed. Hopefully today is the former. Given the labs, and the lectures, and the other labs, Enid really just needs to scratch an itch. And by that, it’s really Wednesday scratching it, and then Enid taking a nap afterwards. With Wednesday. (They cuddle.)

The door is nudged open. A hinge creaks, and a floorboard groans. Her eyes find Wednesday immediately. By the window. Waiting for her. Mildly surprised, but, ultimately, glad. Enid smiles widely. “Wednesday! Your novel's…”

“Done for the day. I did it this morning.” She straightens as Enid closes the door. "Enid,“ Wednesday prompts, and though she catches a quirk down her lips, Enid can’t help but feel…cautious. A Wednesday with her hands behind her back is a Wednesday with too big of a trick up her sleeve. "I have a surprise for you." See?!

Wait.

Cautious or not, a wide smile flourishes. "A…surprise?”

“Yes.” A blink. (Surprisingly. Heh.) “You said that you wanted a pet to keep us and Thing in better company.”

If Enid could jump Wednesday’s cold, frigid bones, she would. But, alas, as much as she loves Thing, Enid isn’t sure if she’d appreciate two running around—as a hand, and then a paw. So she stands herself squarely and musters a curious face. “Yeah, I-I did… So…?" A grin is pressed. Oh fuck, she can’t bear holding herself together any longer. Her hands are clasped. The grin cracks glee. "What is the little one…?! A gerbil? A ferret? A—” Enid practically melts off the face of the earth. “A kitten?!”

Wednesday maintains her composure, but that quirk down her lips worms. “Not quite. Close your eyes.”

She does as told, and she hears Wednesday shift with the surprise in her arms. Her grin is wide with her tongue snagged between teeth.

“Enid. I got us a cat.”

There’s a hop, and a skip, and yip! before she has the chance to open her eyes. "O-M-G! Can we name it Floof—?!“ When Enid does open her eyes, she… U-Um. Well, um. She sees orange. And the cat is…staring at her. Except it’s disconcerting and not at all like Wednesday; rather than stare deep into her soul to lobotomize it, the cat is, like, staring…through…it?

Wednesday tilts her head. Another blink. "What?”

The—

The cat isn’t fucking moving. It just…isn’t. It's—

Oh my fuck, what the God did you do, Wednesday?! 

Enid stands in place, feet anchored to the ground, as she stares at the… The— M-Muppet. Dead muppet. There’s a swallow, and then, a squeaked, "…w-why does it look like that?“

Wednesday lobotomizes Enid’s soul (affectionately). "Like what? The child we shall raise? Together?” …that shouldn’t have flipped Enid’s heart over. It’s practically roasting on a skillet now.

Enid lurches a quite tentative step forward. She meets…Floof by its vacant stare. "Did you put googly-eyes on it?“

"Well it is taxidermy,” Wednesday confirms, bluntly. She gazes down at the cat’s face, and the black dots follow. “I felt you would have appreciated her eyes.”

“Instead of what?”

Wednesday stares back at her. “The eyes I found bludgeoned from her head.”

Where did she get this cat?! Enid follows Wednesday to her desk. …Floof is gently set down beside the typewriter, and as Wednesday fixes a bent whisker in place, Enid hears Thing scatter across the room and back under one of the beds. 

Judging from the multitude of blemishes across…her body, it’s clear that Floof spent all nine lives at once. Poor thing. Yet, she looks as alive as Enid supposed she was not months ago—googly-eyes discounted. She imagines Wednesday’s lithe fingers spindling to sew the worst of death, hide it away, and it’s a mellow thought, if morbid. Her coat looks soft, and her body, strong. Put back together, at least. "That's— That’s such a pretty pattern on Fl-Floof’s back,“ Enid comments.

"Goodyear, for a truck—winter coverage.”

…a-ah. Okay.

Wednesday lingers in place, with her eyes avoidant, and hands tied together. It takes a moment before she begins to ramble—a rarity, with Wednesday, and Enid feels her own heart pool to her foot: “You said you wanted a cat, but I told you—again—that we can’t because of the academy’s policy, but you looked like you wanted to kill yourself when I said that—”

“…Wednesday, I’m not…s-suicidal.”

“—so I went out searching for one, on the roads, and I found this one. She looks like a lot of your sweaters, which is disgusting, so I figured it’d work out. We wouldn’t have to pay for any of the necessities she needed alive, though I’m sure enough nail-paint and -remover will do the equivalent.”

Enid grimaces, though her eyes land on Floof’s white paws, and they snag each toe. “She does have nice nails.”

“I filed them.”

A hum down her mouth, because Enid can smell the anxiety off her neck—even from around the desk, despite whether or not Wednesday herself realizes it. But it's…funny, really. There’s a sort of beauty about it, how mental gymnasticshas become the sound way to understand Wednesday’s language:

Want a pet? Can’t have one because of rules. So, here’s a dead one. With pretty nails you can paint, and a head big enough for a bow.

Enid watches her quietly. Wednesday plays with her hands, spindles them together. Her lips are thin. She’s nervous. Her eyes are cast down. She anticipates.

“How long did this take…?”

Wednesday, slowly, murmurs, “Two weeks. I had to…help with the odor. You would’ve vomited or kissed the floor otherwise.” A pause, then, “…and broken your…pretty nose. Again.”

“That did hurt, yeah…” Enid breathes. (It’s still sore. She swears she’ll set Wednesday’s side of the room on fire, someday.) She rounds the desk’s corner, and Wednesday is swiftly tucked in her arms. There’s that initial frigid moment before Wednesday unwinds, and her body remembers that, yes, it’s Enid, and Enid has the permission. She nudges her pretty nose along Wednesday’s neck. “Thank-you…” is murmured.

“We’re going to reconsider the name." You’re welcome.

"No we’re not." No we’re not. 

Together, they eye Floof, and Floof…is staring at both the door and window simultaneously. With— 

Aww, her tongue is almost sticking out. What a cute touch, Wednesday… 

"You’re needy.”

“It’s almost a full moon…?”

Wednesday twists her head, and Enid seeks for treasure.

They osculate. And her lips feel like death, but they’re the most liveliest thing, all at once.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

It has been decided:

Wednesday Addams would court Enid Sinclair.

On a Wednesday, no less.

Because nobody deserved Enid, and Enid was loyal to heart so, logically, if Wednesday courted her, no other would have the chance. There would not be another Ajax. No more forgotten dates, nor absent mental function. Nor, potentially, any acts of sabotage. Wednesday still kept the rope and pulleys in her desk for just in case. Regardless, this had been decided, and all there needed to be done was the courtship itself—something that was more of a work in progress than Wednesday liked to admit.

She now stood at the courtyard’s rim, watching a grotesque sea of midnight violets and stripes. Amongst them, however, was life, was spirit. Wednesday's luna dorada…

Enid was crafted by her blue moon eyes—more than her haunting blonde, splashed by berry shades—, for they were piercing, and they carried more than the Wednesday’s dead-weighted stare. They had a way of striking every insult to dust, and a way of worming beneath her gaunt complexion. Or, when they would drown, the blue to her eyes were what Wednesday sought to mend. Every time. Without fail.

And they drowned after Ajax.

And every subsequent boy.

Then girl. There was a girl too, but that didn’t last. None of them did, but she certainly didn’t.

…Enid was particularly upset with that one. Only now did Wednesday begin to begrudgingly admit that, perhaps, being the reason why a student jumped from academy to mental institution like a tick should’ve weighed heavier on her conscious. Begrudgingly, though. Wednesday still couldn’t find hers, so she borrowed Enid’s conscious, and as it turned out, that whole…incident weighed like an anvil.

It took a moment for Wednesday to realize she had been reflecting for much too long. She hadn’t moved from the pillar. And with a bark of laughter from the midnight sea, her attention snapped.

Blue moon found the ink of her eyes. Enid beamed at Wednesday, dared to spite what scars slashed her face, from across the tables.

A threat. (Enid merely smiled.) What sick behavior. (Sure, Wednesday.) She was going to vomit. (From the stress.) From the agony. (…no.)

There was a blink. Her heart urged ejection—orally.

So.

Wednesday flipped her off.

It was an honest reflex.

…

This exchange would be the one. A swift, passing moment between classes, with Enid skipping her way to interspecies biology, and Wednesday, cryptic humanities, at a stroll. Five minutes at most. The corridor they used was…occupied, as it usually was, though far from the bustling wing it would devolve to at other hours.

As usual, they stopped before the odd display case—to commemorate the school’s history of its students on milk cartons.

“Enid.”

Her smile grew in ways Wednesday would never understand, yet would come to…notice. Often. As fleeting, busy thoughts. They were often gnats. Never to leave until Wednesday paid them their due time. This particular smile dug into Enid’s cheeks, and it was a toothy one, with sly eyes, and a chin leaned towards her shoulder. (It would be one to ponder on for a while. Before bed, namely.) “…Wednesday?" Enid humored, "You’ve been a little mean today, you know.”

“It is my day,” Wednesday muttered.

She also noticed that Enid did grow a few inches after all. Her eyes flecked along Enid’s pinstriped, midnight uniform and concluded that, yes, her skirt looked a little shorter than it had before. "Do you…have something to say?“

Wednesday crept her stare back to Enid’s blue moon. There’s a pause, then Enid pressed, from the corner of her mouth, ”Or…ask?“

A blink. She swallowed down a sludge of webbed thoughts. "Enid. I…" That skirt needed to be longer. Since when did Enid grow? Over break, surely. Behind Wednesday’s back, no doubt. "I think that…" It hardly mattered. Wednesday was asking— Wednesday was courting Enid, and she— "Would— Would…you…”  She didn’t. Know. Where?! “To the—" Where would she court Enid? A funeral? "Go to…” No, she couldn’t.

“Wednesday…?”

Why did she not check the obituary this week?! This morning, for the—

Her eyes snapped to Enid. And she blinked. Twice this time. “What?”

Enid’s sly eyes had a mild twitch to them. Which was…new. Almost. She didn’t do that with Wednesday often. The last time was before their occasion at the last fair. And before that had been the night where they danced as one, at the masquerade—music to harmonize, words left unsaid. (It was a favorite moment.) “Do you want to go to town together?” A question, like the couple times before. Enid toyed with her hands, then added, quietly, “And we can go to that creepy antique store you like?”

“With the roadkill?”

“Yeah.”

Wednesday did like that store. "Yes. That would be…worthwhile.“

"…and then ice cream?”

She fought a grimace. Stamped it down. “The one that smells desperate for attention?”

“Uh, yeah, that one,” Enid said. Her eyes watched Wednesday, as full as ever.

“Okay.” Wednesday nodded, though it was slow, and it was cautious. Enid had a way of writhing guilt to her chest as heartworm. 

(She also had a way of patience:) “They have the vanilla you like.”

“Yes, then.”

Wednesday spoke the route to Enid’s apparent gaiety. “Okay!" she near-squealed, her hands clasped together. Before Wednesday found them latched on either shoulder. That gaiety, as it bloomed full in her eyes, threatened to chip the color from her nails and into the black of Wednesday’s uniform. "So after class then!”

She found she didn’t mind it. Enid could leave her sediment of color all she liked, so long as she kept her eyes from drowning. “Fine,” Wednesday said, with an added, “Don’t bother me until the hour.”

Enid’s nodding was frantic. The twitch in her eye skewed the smile in her cheek. 

Wednesday meandered around Enid with a thick mouth, and a heavy mind. She didn’t court her. Forgot to know what, exactly, the courting would be in the first place. How that blunder managed to come to fruition, she didn’t know. But Wednesday did know that it needed to be rectified. Near-immediately. Before their excursion to town, if she could help it—

“YES. FINALLY. JESUS CHRIST!" 

She wasn’t ten strides away, and already, Enid bothered her before the hour. Bothered, or rather startled her.

Wednesday craned her eyes to Enid. Enid, who, stood frigid, eyes round and face strained to another wide, toothy smile. This one curled her scars into an awkward, bent geometry. With a swallow, she explained, "…th-this is, um, our first time shopping together. Alone.”

A long, sharp exhale forced what stammer in Wednesday’s heart that shouldn’t have been, though Enid always managed, somehow. She stared for a good moment. Then: “We can stop by the funeral home, Enid. I know how to obtain a discount for a casket your size.”

Enid gulped sheepishly.

(Nothing she ever did was particularly wolfish, now that Wednesday realized.)

…

Wednesday, against her better judgement, sat herself at her desk, in her chair. Her eyes bore through Thing’s palm as he drabbled a meandering, smug tune. [You look chipper.]

“I’ll throw you in one. Quit with the shit-eating, you don’t even have a mouth.”

Thing rolled himself into a fist, exasperated. (He really should have expected this.) Then, he flopped, and waved, and signed: [Okay. Fine. But you do look…very schoolgirl.] Wednesday stared. [Without the dimples.] She frowned. [Or the giggling.]

“Don’t flatter me.”

[I know what a schoolgirl who needs advice looks like.] Thing jabbed his thumb to Enid’s blaring side of the room.

She didn’t follow his gesture. There was no need. She heard such schoolgirl who needed advice on a daily basis. But, given that, Wednesday finally relented. Because as much as this was against her better judgement, her better judgement was floundering or flipping Enid off—panicking, in other words, as she figured the mere hour before. So, she relented, and grumbled, “…it’s about her, actually.” She didn’t look at Thing. Not as he swayed his self-satisfaction, the filthy romantic. “I have decided that no one is good for Enid, and if I am to kill anyone who has done wrong by her, I might as well be by her side too.”

She glanced at him. Rocked her jaw. Blinked. Then stared into his favorite stitch. “I don’t know how to court her.”

[I knew it.]

“Doesn’t matter.”

[Don’t be like that.]

Wednesday gnawed the inside of her cheek in stewed silence. She hated it whenever Thing did that—chastised her. He was a hand. She wasn’t a child.

The moment between them throbbed a familiar strain, where the hand talked back, and Wednesday was left to configure whether or not she missed something. Which happened. A lot. Particularly with Enid and whatever bout of emotions had twisted to obscurity. Anger often was blurred with frustration, and guilt did the same. Enid was explosive, that way. Had Wednesday start to suspect that anger wasn’t an emotion at all, but rather an armor set…

She watched Thing expectantly. He drummed nonsense, then asked, [What have you done so far? ]

…that was not a good question to answer.

Wednesday stalled. Avoided him entirely.

Unfortunately for her, Thing’s drumming turned morse:

[…W E D N E S D A Y.]

She scowled. “You know I hate it when you do that,” she muttered. 

Thing, once her eyes flecked back to him, beneath her desk lamp, signed, [Then look at me.] A nail leaned from the light, towards Enid’s half. [How can I help if you do not look? ]

Wednesday sat with herself for a second that felt too long. If every two shoulders were birthed with an angel and a demon on either side, Wednesday was born with only the latter, until the former spawned far too late. And that angel was Enid, and she very much wanted to flick the damn thing off.

Because this moment felt like it should be an apology. For…something. Being too calloused, or, in Enid’s words, a stone-cold bitch.

Exhaled, Wednesday begrudgingly appeased the worst part of herself: “…sorry.” She might as well have molted off her tongue. From her peripheral, however, Thing fluttered in the lamplight. He was happy about it, at least.

“Now just tell me what to do.”

Surprise teemed from his skin. [How bad were you?! ] 

“Thing.”

He paused, heard the something in her voice which Wednesday didn’t know to swallow down, then signed, methodically, [Swoon then kiss her.]

Wednesday leaned forward, brows strewn together. She must have popped a vessel. “What?”

[Swoon. Then kiss her.]

She didn’t. Apparently.

[Don’t you want to court her? ] Thing continued, if tentative. Slowly, Wednesday nodded. [And…kiss her? ] Another question… [Hold hands? ] And another question… […pet names? ] And another which she couldn’t answer. Not really. They weren’t good ones, anyway.

Regardless, Wednesday managed the only semblance of one she could: “I’m not my parents, Thing." There was a consideration. "Nor Enid for the matter. I told you. I want to court her, and then kill— Dissuade anybody who tries to hurt her.”

Thing slumped, and Wednesday could practically see the disappointment pale in his fingertips. [You’re not killing Ajax.]

“I amended what I said.”

[You’re also not buying a mirror.]

Wednesday bit her inner-cheek—hoped for blood.

[Or azaleas. Or larkspurs.]

“…fine," she grated, with a gaze swept across her drawers. "And don’t steal my grocery lists.”

Thing took that as the best he would get. (It was.) He drummed again, then waved for her attention. Wednesday read closely:

[You are not romantic. I get that.

[But if you want to court her, you have to meet in the middle.

[Do something Enid would like.]

She hesitated, then leaned into the back of her seat. Something Enid would like… There were many things, too many which Wednesday didn’t know if she could stomach. She would have to, of course. Courtships were, after all, matters of covenant. A pact. A promise. Through life. Beyond death.

If only she knew what about her appeased Enid.

(The answer was everything, really. Enid’s far from picky when it came to Wednesday.)

…

Wednesday admired the roadkill. Enid looked green, though she still managed a smile or two.

They bought one wearing an astronaut’s suit.

(Enid said something about ink being her whole world. Blue moon looked far from drowning as she did.)

Then, Enid got herself a harrowing display of color vomited on a cone. With sprinkles.

She brought Wednesday her vanilla. It tasted plain. It was savored.

Throughout it all, Wednesday rummaged for their courtship. Because eyes stalked Enid. Eyes not her own.

…

“You finished the ice cream.”

They decided to walk back to the academy. Enid figured that it’d do her good to burn off the ice cream (despite the Lycan’s metabolism being the gift from the gods), and Wednesday liked to roam in the biting chill. It didn’t threaten rain, unfortunately, though the wind mused about a night of hail. That almost brought a smile to Wednesday’s face. Almost. It brought a clipped scowl to Enid’s.

“I did,” she answered, after a moment.

Wednesday felt her eyes wander to her—across her profile, down her braids. “And you’ve been…thinking this whole time,” Enid remarked, her voice awfully intimate. It got that way frequently, as of late. 

Her dead-weighted stare matched the tempo to their strides, darted along each splash of color to Enid’s autumn wear. Wednesday decided those awfully intimate words felt warmer than the scarf around her neck. And that warmth was…lively. The same kind that adorned a casket before burial, as a bouquet of leaves and flowers, color and white. It was acceptable. A homely embrace.

“Yes.” Wednesday looked forward—watched for the bend down the road. Her admission stirred from her lips, quietly: “About you.”

Enid smiled, and that smile lingered as she remarked, “I mean I would hope so.” A laugh. Kind to the ears. “It’d be honestly so tragic if you weren’t.”

Wednesday merely hummed. An itch, then, plagued itself. There was no swallowing it. So she noted, “People looked at you.”

“I…” Enid sounded softer. Not like leaves and flowers, though, nor color and white. Like a lamb. Before headlights. “They…did?”

Together, they stopped dead.

As Enid reached for her scars, brushed down their lines by her fingertips, Wednesday said, “You’re a pink mess. And you're…giddy.” Amongst other things, of course. Enid was far from sore on the eyes. She was a bundle of energy, yet swift of mind, all at once. “Of course they did.” Wednesday frowned, however. For the look in Enid’s eyes looked close to drowning—though rather than to a hurricane, a still, frigid blanket. “Enid?”

She snapped back, and her eyes found Wednesday’s. "It’s nothing. Just checking my make-up.“

Neither moved. Stuck in place, locked in the passing minute.

"They’re only scars, I’ve told you,” Wednesday murmured. 

“I know." She heard Enid’s armor—that non-emotion—synch in place. "But they’re still on my face, Wednesday!" she hissed. "People see these first. And when I meet new people, they’re not going to remember me as Enid, they’re just going to see a girl who probably got mauled by a stupid bear.”

This felt like another moment. Not an apology, though, no.

Yet Wednesday was twinged by the same hesitance. And that hesitance had a name, and it was one she bitterly knew well: remorse. An ugly thing.

She would mend it. Fix the guilt from Enid’s face. Keep those drowned eyes from leaking into those lines.

“I’ll give them matching ones.”

“No.”

“They can have their own to look in the mirror.”

“Wednesday, no." 

She had to. Because those lines were tallies, and those tallies marked each failure. Each snide retort. The window. The taped border. 

And that damn. Fucking. Manor.

…that scar, Wednesday imagined, was the deepest one. Rather than a ravine, a gorge. 

"I do know some bears,” Wednesday said, almost desperate. “They would do it.”

“No!" The desperation wasn’t for naught. Because Enid’s smile bled to her voice, and Wednesday felt as though, perhaps, the gorge was an increment closer to being another ravine, then, someday, a mere trench.

Her blue moon eyes grew bright. Wednesday felt her webbed thoughts sludge again. They were thick to swallow, though she let strands coat her words: "Enid. When I look at your face, I don’t think of your scars first.”

Wednesday felt herself tip towards asphyxiation. The moment twitched. Her throat tightened.

Enid watched her. “Then…how do you think of it?” she asked, as quiet as ever. Their eyes met.

As they did, Wednesday knew one thing:

Nobody was worth Enid’s affection. Herself least of all.

Those scars would never truly heal, nor the ravines beneath her eyes, beneath her words. Wednesday did, however, want to heal. Somehow. She didn’t know how. The urge was a shadow cloaked behind her. It was mute. It didn’t say anything. But, Wednesday felt it, somewhere. And it was different from what had her tear a chest open and gut, or curl an erratic melody. Perhaps she could learn how to mend blindly, though. To reach into those eyes, and those words, and pull Enid to safety.

And she did just that. Ink clothed Enid’s blue moon, stared deep for her words. Her skin flushed beneath Wednesday’s hand. But, Enid didn’t break away. Neither did.

So Wednesday reigned her close. She heard Enid’s breath hitch, and she felt her anxiety coil to her palm.

The kiss felt like lips.

(It burned, and seared, as a prickle down Enid’s spine.)

Once broken apart, Wednesday watched her. It was…a nice thing. Better than she expected. Less than the hurricane she just subjected Enid to, but more than a mere graze of skin. Maybe. It sounded right, for the moment. Her lurking shadow fidgeted, anyway, so it had to have been.

Wednesday swallowed down a chill. Savored it, for Enid felt like vanilla. Her jaw itched to speak, and—

Wait. Oh no.

She still couldn’t think of anything.

And— And oh no her lips were actually buzzing. Slightly. Like she just kissed a bee.

“U-Uh, Wednesday…?”

“Shut up.” That lurking shadow winced. This wasn’t going well. Wednesday didn’t mean that, so to clarify, she muttered, “I’m thinking.”

“…you could just—”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.” Thinking and forgetting. Wednesday couldn’t scrounge what she thought to ask. (This, she assumed, was why Thing told her to swoon and then kiss. Enid’s mouth didn’t even feel like much, but it was still biting her on the ass. Figuratively.)

Wednesday glanced, and she caught a smug, growing smile. “Enid.”

“Yeah…?” Enid purred.

She opened her mouth, figured an insult wouldn’t help matters, and closed it. Wednesday rifled through every idea she could flounder. “Tomorrow night.” That was a start. “Grave-robbing. I have…a kit for two.” A very, very good idea. Except— Wait no. Enid looked perturbed. “I know— I know where every colonizer was buried in the town. We could…sell everything to the antique…store…”

“…grave-robbing. …okay.”

“Yes.” Wednesday, unfortunately, then found what she should’ve thought of before. So: “And…p-picnic.”

Enid brightens. There’s a nod, followed by a swift peck to Wednesday’s cheek. “It’s a date then.”

Wednesday felt her throat gravel noise. Then, she felt clockwork turn behind her ears. The hour struck, and her gut squirmed. “Was this a date?” She stared. Enid’s blue moon eyes stagnated. “Enid.” They darted. “Enid, answer me.”

“…n-no?”

“Enid. How— How many have we had?”

“U-Uh…” Enid’s grin was, of course, sheepish. “…seven?”

Hope you enjoyed! :)

[Surviving the Apocalypse]

Throughout the games, we ultimately see the apocalypse under two overarching eras. The initial stage is calamity. The walkers swiftly overrun what people upheld as a stable, and very secure way of life. And the fact that it only takes one factor to destroy the "we're untouchable" notion, it's terrifying. (Which, on that note, though the undead is an extreme, we did maybe learn this post-COVID. Ergo, stories like these may resonate a little bit better than they had before.)

What's different about The Walking Dead (TWD) as a universe is that…, the true calamity arguably doesn't hit until later, because the dead themselves aren't what really destroys the untouchable mindset as before. In most universes, such as The Last of Us, it's something contagious that you don't want. However, it is also something to overcome and fix. Though the dead in TWDG's cousin is far more brutal, if you isolate them, or find a way to vaccinate…, there could feasibly be a future where the fungus is more akin to rabies or the black plague rather than a devastating change in society.

Because that's how diseases like these work. They will never go away, especially if humanity mishandled their responses to them. Rabies is still out there, because it is a violent disease (am also under the impression that walkers is very synonymous with rabies, but I digress). The Black Plague? That whole thing? Yeah, the plague itself is also still out there. The problem was solved by nature, where a fire torched all of London.

But since then, we have vaccines. We know better (…I hope) in how to appropriately respond. And…that's the best we can do. Pathogens will always dictate life.

Of course, this isn't to undermind what outbreaks as seen in those other stories do to the world. They evidently are a turning point, if not the end, of humanity's way of life. The reason why, however, falls more in-line with a society being greatly unprepared, and a virus, fungus, whatever being the perfect amalgamation that spreads rapidly. It's what we as humans have gone through, will go through, to an absolutely extreme. Complete annihilation. That kind of deal.

Here's the thing about TWD, and I honestly could go on and on with this (and why it's my favorite apocalypse I've seen in fiction):

The bite is not what does it. Everyone is infected.

And the longer you think about it, that in itself will not end. I'm in the camp that it would be maternally passed-down given how blood circulation works within pregnancy, so. You know.

The point here is TWD as an apocalypse is very unique in this one change. It fundamentally breaks how people approached these kinds of stories. The walkers are not particularly fast because they don't have to be. They are a looming presence. As they deteriorate, because they're so slow-moving (as apposed to clickers), they manage to tell their own stories in how they died. You can see if they were bit, or starved, or shot… List goes on.

They are representative of nature reclaiming the world, and on top of that, a dangling threat to anyone who has the gall to think they're above it.

Because they're not. So either make sure your head is shot, or deal with walking around like a mangy pile of rot.

It changed how people approached this because rather than a devastating outbreak, this feels like a sort of damnation. There is a very bleak sense of finality to this universe—to the point where… Yeah. They could live on, try to find a cure, but this is it.

This is the true calamity of this world—not the walkers themselves, but the fact that they are there to stay, there is no going back. At least, for a long, long, long time. You can't just isolate them. If someone dies the wrong way, there could be one in the room right with you. Hence…making sure your head is shot.

And as with in the games, it is such a bleak reality that it forces people to just move on.

Which they do. The way to survive this initial era is, amongst a wide scope of things, to accept the fact and carry forth.

The characters that don't, and are simply too rooted in the past, like Katjaa… Well, they don't make it, do they? There's a reason why we don't see that many unable to let go after the first season, because they don't last. If they do, like with Tenn, it's because they got lucky and had a community to fall back on. Regardless, given what we see with Katjaa, Season One (S1) is this time.

The second era of the apocalypse is seeding. Both in the literal sense, and symbolic.

I'm not talking established communities, no. The closest we get to that is the boarding school, given they do have established practices. But, with how many things need to be done, the schoolkids are still within this second era.

Season Three (S3) is arguably the first season of the four solidly within the second era. Sure, there are still scavengers, but there are also several communities at once—enough so that the conflicts between end up being why they fail, not purely the dead. This leaves Season Two (S2) to be the fitting chaos that ensues between the eras, where much of the world is scavenging, they're reminded of how cruel winter is actually, but there are already solid efforts in building communities; then, Season 4 (S4) as well within the second era, with clear signs that there is the gradual chance of establishment.

The second era requires not only what the first proposes—moving on—, but also a sense of ingenuity. They're left with the scraps of the past world, but that past world also grew out of the earth, so they can cobble those scraps and earth together and make something out of it. We have Prescott on the airstrip; that is the epitome of cobbling things together. There's Richmond, and Howe's Hardware as well, where it's making use of the scraps left behind to establish proper farms. Then Ericson's as a meld of both—the kids have their structure, but they needed to feed off the land. (Not quite at the farm stage like the others were.)

All of what I've discussed thus far, however, is on an overarching scale (and isn't exactly exhaustive either). It can be extrapolated and used in reference to an individual's survival, but there are ways to better articulate an individual's survival than just…get the fuck over it, and build a farm.

And what's interesting is there is a vast difference in requirements depending on how they choose to survive.

With a community. Or. Alone.

The benefits to a community is you yourself don't have to encompass the three traits to survive. (Oh, yeah, this essay will have three primary traits of surviving on an individual scale; obviously there will forever be more nuance, but…shush. I'm typing.) Within a community, you can rely upon others that do encompass the three traits—and it doesn't have to be all in one person. The people within a community can specialize in skills.

And the schoolkids best emulate this.

Tenn and Willy, though they have their own skillsets, are example of those who need to rely on others. Both have the school, though they are closest to Violet and Mitch respectively—those, if asked, would likely be considered the closest thing to caretakers that either boys have.

And right alongside them, Louis, because my man…would like to say he's allergic to work, but really, it's the self-doubt. Now, if not a person who is reliant, he is good for raising spirits. He knows games to play. He brings entertainment.

There's Marlon, who's the well-spoken leader. Ruby, who plays nurse. Aasim, who…writes? Writing's important and stuff in the apocalypse, right?

(Yes. It is. Again, we will get to that, so, hush-up.)

Rosie. Dog. (This is also very important. You can pet her!)

Mitch was likely the muscle, or something along those lines. Omar, the cook.

I would say Brody sits near the "needs to rely" camp, given her anxiety, though, she does actually pull her weight, ergo, support. You can task her with anything. She'll likely be able to do it, such as with fishing and hunting.

Violet was also probably another support, though it is difficult to really tell at the beginning because she's withdrawn from the rest of her people. (I've always felt the Violet we meet at the start isn't who she was before the twins left. Of course, Violet is Violet, but… Depression, and stuff. Probably BPD stuff.) Here's the thing though: come to find, Violet is also another thing.

That being deputy. She can step-up and play leader when need be, but will step down because that isn't quite what she is—hence why the leadership ultimately goes from Marlon to Clementine by the end. This has Violet be the ultimate support. She can do whatever, fill in the leadership role, so on and so forth.

As the community develops, the others will find more nuances in themselves like these. Beyond what I've outlined, and the present nuances already in S4.

The thing with this line-up to understand is there's huge variety here. Not only in the nature of each role, but also their complexity. Because…, turns out, there's a lot to living.

Which. I mean. All of that is no shit, Sherlock. Because yeah.

When I go on about, say, Violet, it's to explain a very specific concept that one word is not going to do. There's a specific reason why I say deputy, and not second-hand; there is a thing where roles will and do change depending on circumstance, and time. (As with Willy (and Tenn) when he grows up, and when Louis becomes more confident.) But this doesn't mean it's more important. When I say "Omar, the cook," or "Ruby, who plays nurse," neither are to designate either as lesser roles.

They're actually crucial. Because no fucking shit. You need to eat. You need to learn how to mend yourself.

It's why those roles are so…simple. Because title alone says everything.

Certain roles, like Violet's (which…may or may not be ironic), are very community-centric. Others, like Omar and Ruby's, are fundamental to just life. And what you see is within communities, those fundamentals go from just skillsets to an art or to a science. When you have people who specialize in each, they are given the time and space to truly understand the ins and outs of what they're doing.

Cut to alone.

Those like Clementine.

Surviving alone is difficult because not only are all of these crucial roles in the community on one set of shoulders, there has to be great sacrifice. Of course, a leader or deputy isn't needed because there's just one. The social aspect of a community is not present.

With that social aspect follows specialization of the core fundamentals.

You need to eat. You need to learn how to mend yourself. And defend...

When you are on your own, without the security of a home, you are not given the time nor the space to truly know those ins and outs. So, when you look at those like Clementine, yes. She's not going to know little tricks, or the sciences, in what she does. The stitching for example:

Clean it. Sew the fucking body part shut. Wrap if you can. There you go, you just did stitching.

Which she does. However, S2, part of why the dog bite (oh, and yes, comic people? yeah, there's supposed to be a deep, concerning scar down her left forearm) scarred the way it did is because 1) …um, she was in a shed, dunking-back apple juice in between sutures in my case, getting jumped by a dead dude, and 2) the stitch-work was very rudimentary. Enough to close the wound and have it heal, sure. Then, S3, the same with Javi; Kate upon inspection does mention that she sees it bleeding through, indicating that again, it's very rudimentary. But, we have Eleanor examine it, and she notes that it is satisfactory, so long as it's looked after.

Had someone like Ruby, or better yet Eleanor (who Dr. Lingard complimented this exact skill) done it, they would have known different stitch techniques that not only closes the wound tight, but also leaves minimal scarring. And the other things, like how to adapt the techniques to different parts of the body, because…no, you really can't just stitch a knee like you would a back.

But again, Clementine didn't have the time to really learn the specifics. She's busy learning how to cook, and hunt, and defend, and scavenge supplies, drive, shoot, car maintenance, feeding a child, taking care of the child, protecting the child, prioritizing necessities…

Essentially, in terms of community vs solo, it's an argument between the specialized, and the jack of all trades.

Stay with me now. I'm not exactly done going over what is needed to survive, because there are more. There's the three traits I mentioned. But as I babble on, once the discussion over the comic begins, I do hope it's clear as to why I am going through these things as meticulously as I am.

Now we get to why Clementine of all girls would be able to live in this kind of environment. She's a kid, but like…young adult given the context. (I'm sure the medieval ages wouldn't argue.) She's like…stupid, or something. She only went to so much school, and we all know that only smart people graduate from school. I never met a dumbfuck at college ever! No!

…got a little side-tracked.

Genuinely though, what is it about Clementine?

I'll start this with a curveball:

What is the dumbest thing that she has ever done within the games?

There's room for debate, but the majority will probably point to S1, where she goes on to trust the voice at the other end of her radio—the voice being the Stranger's.

It's the decision that we, as an audience, thought Clementine was above doing even at that age. It's also what ultimately kills Lee.

Here's the thing, though:

Clementine putting faith into the Stranger wasn't just a child being stupid. For one, she is…eight/nine. So. A child. But, two, it was an exercise of her greatest flaw:

"She's a puzzle."

Something that is brought up, time and time again. To my mind, it's most notably done by Katjaa, whenever they're beside the train, and Duck is of ailing health. Clementine sits on her own log. Doesn't respond much to Lee, not until Chuck (as a breath of fresh air) comes to join the party.

See, she heard a voice from the other end of this radio—one of two (including the hat) mementos she has of her family—, and the one thing that she had in way of sanctuary. The Stranger said the right things, so she kept to herself with that radio, and let her desperation flourish.

Finding her parents was the one thing she wanted. So yes, through a child's gullibility, and a man's manipulation, she believed the wrong person.

We see this sort of flaw propagate time and time again. Granted, it does depend on the player's interpretation of her for S2 and S4, given we play as her, but in S3 where she's (quite literally, for the most part) out of our hands, what does she do? She keeps to herself. What happened to A.J? was a question on our minds, largely because of her reluctance to open up. Clementine lies to Javi about the New Frontier, then she turns around and explains her lie…, reveals her branding…, purely for survival's sake, not because she wholeheartedly trusts him.

Of course, in S3 it's understandable that she doesn't just open up to Javi. That game covers only a handful of days—short of a week by the end—, with the exception of the flashback sequences. (As opposed to S1, across several months, S2, a few weeks to a month, give or take, and S4, which sits about the same.)

Still, however. This is absolutely a part of Clementine's character: she's reserved. Without the player, her first inkling is to keep herself from the topic of conversation.

The thing to understand about this flaw, and how it bleeds into the comics, is that…I think(?) Walden acknowledged this part of her character. But…half of it.

The reason why comic Clementine pulled away from the boarding school is because she…, as she does…, kept to herself after her leg, got into her own head, and thusly ran off. I will say, I do agree that Clementine would be an absolute fucking mess with her leg gone because she has to rely on people again. (Which is devastating because of her specific trauma: à la parentification.)

Now…, run away…? Um…

(…it's also this specific trauma that… Um. Yeah no, she would not leave A.J.)

Whatever. Not the point of this essay.

The other half of this flaw, the half that the comics blatantly miss, speaks to quite an…insightful aspect of Clementine:

She is a very, very perceptive individual. Because the thing we see in S1 is that she's not just quiet. She's watching. She's observant. Clementine is quiet, not only because she gets into her own head, but because she's taking in the world, and so she notices things that other people don't pick up on.

Throughout S1, there will be moments where Lee can try to sugarcoat things, particularly after Duck's bite, only for Clementine to say it plainly:

"You don't know that."

Those moments speak to a kid who knows the difference between reality and not, and telling Clementine that she won't get snatched or bit is…not reality. It will likely happen, and it does.

Other moments, she'll notice details in the environment. She can point them out. Help Lee, as with getting into the train station. Make a comment, like in Hershel's barn with the "dookie"/shit/manure.

Or, back in the drugstore, where Carley (…not too subtly) outs Lee as a murderer in front of Clementine. …which, of course, Clementine picks up on. (The trigger for this is to pick up the photo of Lee with his family, hence why it can be before or after moving the desk.) To which, upon leaving the drugstore's office, she'll ask about it, and you'll have the option of being open and honest, sugarcoating it, or just flat out lie.

Staying in the drugstore! Lee asks for something to bar the entrance. Walkers are scratching to get a nibble. And? Immediately, she goes to his dad's cane (cuz that man ain't using anymore!).

S2. Same spiel. Because…, oh boy, incompetence is rampant as it turns out, and as I've stepped into adulthood for myself, I've come to appreciate that season as essentially "Clementine learns why the motel family fell apart, adults are grown ass children, she has to babysit them— KENNY, DOWN! STOP IT! STOP BITING THE RUSSIAN!— throughout a winter."

Because. Newsflash. Adults? About as stable of a concept as a table with a missing leg, then another one of mangled-together cutlery. And I will forever adore stories from a kid's perspective slowly realizing this fact.

(…also, parentification's a knocking. It wants in.)

Then, S3, where she gave up being the hero, but still…, somehow…, rattles off exactly what the player needs to do and where to get the tools when stealing a truck because she just can't help herself.

…okay, I think I've done enough. S4 also speaks for itself.

Point being, Clementine is a very perceptive, very resilient, and very adaptive person. It's why she out of all the kids she comes across is the one to survive.

Sarah immediately comes to mind as someone who really struggled with adapting. She can, but the tragedy of it is that it's not in time. Too little, too late. (Circumstances also don't help.)

With Gabe (if he dies), same kind of thing. He always struck me as someone painfully unaware of how good he had it, and how bad everything else was. And he needed to grow up. Fast. But again, that alone isn't what saves him—his uncle, and/or Clementine do(es). If he's saved at all, anyway.

Duck? Same fucking thing. And it was his death, through Chuck, that spurred Lee to start teaching Clementine the basics.

To which she adapts, and she adapts well. Their first outing doesn't go…all that great. Clementine freezes. But, throughout S1, she does shoot her first walker (with Omid, or in Crawford). If Lee cannot fight off the Stranger, she will be the one to kill him. And then, of course, the whole Lee death scene thing.

The second season starts off with Omid dropping because of a neglected gun. (Clementine freezes again.) Change is always on rocky road—despite the season prior, she still had a lot to learn, and she did throughout said season.

Perceptive, and resilient, and adaptive. To be those is the ticket to survival. Those are the three.

So why…does it seem like the comics don't know?

[VANCOMYCIN]

To anyone unaware, vancomycin is not a random string of letters for Clementine to work her mouth through. In fact, she knows how to read it. Had to, in order to inject this medicine into A.J within S3—whether or not she goes through with it is dependent on player choice.

Vancomycin, to give a better idea of the sheer desperation she was in, is not something to treat the common cold or flu. It's to treat Gram-positive bacterial infections—hence why it wouldn't necessarily work for colds or flu, given most are virus-borne—, and is generally synonymous with more serious infections.

Meaning. A.J was genuinely sick.

(My hunch is bacteria-borne pneumonia.)

I don't know what most of the fandom assumed, but it was not just a little bug. It was…bad. And a legit miracle that he survived (whether it be without the injection, or…with the injection where Clementine poked the syringe through his shirt? Game? Graphics?).

What likely happened was, somewhere down the line, he either just caught something on an off chance (the world hasn't been sanitized), or he got too close to danger and got himself sick that way off of one of the walkers/animals around. (If it was pneumonia, he likely inhaled something.) Regardless, Clementine was at a point where she…just did not have the resources to help him, would not know where to look, wouldn't feasibly be able to scavenge for it, and so she joined the New Frontier (whether or not you had her agree initially) because it was just that bad.

It is a heavy drug. Not only does it give insight as to why Clementine chose to join regardless of your choice for her, it also explains why the group threw her out for even handling it. It's not like aspirin that's easy to come by.

And, of course, there's the pronunciation of it. As with every medical term like this, it looks and sounds convoluted, but as you break it down, it's pretty straightforward.

Keep this in mind as I rattle on further. I find the vancomycin to be a very succinct contrast to what I take issue with in the comics.

Speaking of, the comics.

Hello there.

…Clementine.

The Clementine Comics, by Tillie Walden, read as a hard reset on the series, from S1 onward. Which yes, is the core issue. There was no effort in even trying to continue off from S4, it was just a way to have Clementine still run around, while avoiding the whole Telltale-RPG implications of a continuation.

So, if you're somehow out of the fandom and you're reading this, hi? Welcome. This is why people are upset about the comic, and for once, no, it's not just because this fanbase is being…unhinged. (In a bad way.)

On top of the plot decisions, however, there are things that just prove Walden was not the artist for this project. The artstyle is an interesting(?) fit for TWDG, but ultimately is an aside. There's the focus on romance. There's the dull characters.

And then there's Clementine herself. Very out of character, and that's coming from someone whose Clementine has…made decisions in her life.

What this essay will focus on, however, is the choices made to have Clementine incompetent.

Medically so.

In the first book, Clementine is taught how to clean and dress her amputated leg. I can get behind learning how to wrap the thing properly, because it is a different part of the body, and it's a different angle—on herself, not someone else.

But she asks…why she needs to clean it. Like she doesn't know. Clementine has to be taught that.

This kind of ignorance then follows her into the second book, because she fell ill (and slipped into a month-long coma??), largely due to her not cleaning the wound. Her leg had an infection. And it spread.

…okay. Um.

That's very interesting considering Clementine:

(S2) Got bit by a dog, felt like she needed to take care of it herself due to circumstances, cleaned it, sutured the wound with fishing wire, and then went to bandage it (before getting attacked). (By the way, the scar is not on comic Clementine. So.)

(S2; optional) Can sit beside Rebecca during her pregnancy to help, but then does have to assist with the walker/lurker problem.

(S2) Tended to Kenny's lost eye because he was beaten by a walkie-talkie by cleaning it.

(S2) Probably had to deal with that whole wound in her shoulder, you know, from the FUCKING RIFLE SHOT, either with Kenny, Jane, those at Wellington, or on her own (feat A.J). (No, they did not patch it up because time, and it went clean through. When Jane and Kenny fought, Clementine just had an open bullet hole.)

(S2/S3) Had to take care of a baby. With Jane or Kenny or in Wellington, and/or on her own.

(S3; alone S2 ending) Broke her finger on a car door to the point where she (presumably) had to amputate and cauterize the finger herself.

(S3) THE WHOLE VANCOMYCIN THING. I WILL GET BACK TO THAT.

(S3) Cleaned and sutured Javi's arm after he got shanked (cuz Gabe… never mind).

(S4) Twas a great start. Car accident—boo boo head.

(S4) Had to patch-up A.J cuz he got shot by a shotgun. And was in recovery for two weeks.

(S4; optional) Louis/Violet gets their finger chopped off. Probably helped deal with that.

(S4) Um. Her leg? You know. The one she lost, and the schoolkids managed to get her stable. Willing to bet Ruby would lose her fucking shit if it wasn't cleaned properly.

And that's just what we do see, in regards to Clementine personally.

Do I…have to go on and explain why it's fucking stupid that she doesn't know the basic information she had to learn in the comics? No?

Okay. Good.

I will get back to it, because I think this choice is indicative of a larger issue. We'll get to that weird…bias the comics have with Clementine being negligent and ignorant to all things medical.

Because now, we're here.

Not only is Clementine ignorant medically, she struggles to read her way through a dictionary. There's scenes of her sounding out words like she's in preschool.

For what reason?! Because in a world where people don't have higher education, they just don't read and write?! What?!

Okay, so, no, I didn't outline precisely why reading and writing (more so reading) is crucial of a skillset to have within an apocalyptic setting. I will do so now.

Because it's the crux of this essay. Hence why I've given it its own section. (…that's what this is, by the way.)

Why is it, exactly, "so" important Volt? Society's gone!! You don't need to read!

Listen up, ✨ dipshit ✨ This is an apocalypse. Not a nomadic setting.

Okay, that was a little mean. If you're asking this, you're not a dipshit.

Anyway, I am being genuine here. To the point where even implying that nomads by nature are illiterate is also…wrong. Because that's not necessarily true either, but assuming so falls into such an ignorant bias that people in 1st world countries have. (The same that the comics have.)

And this bias is the reason why I really, really want to have this discussion because the comics really rubbed me the wrong way with this, and, I'm kinda sick and tired of reading other people implying the same thing.

So let's start here:

What distinguishes us from the rest of the animal kingdom? Why is it we consider ourselves more intelligent?

The answer boils down to one thing:

Our mouths.

We can talk. And in doing so, we can communicate to each other very complex and nuanced concepts that require articulation beyond body language and emotion.

It's why we're able to distinguish things like envy versus just being irritated by someone. Because frankly? They physically feel the same because they are the same emotion. The context is what differentiates envy vs irritability. The why.

"I feel [this] because I want what they have." vs "I feel [this] because they're being stupid right now."

The [this] is the same. The body only has so many ways it can tell you what you're feeling, so it ends up boiling down to very basic emotions, where they can be felt at different extremes, or in unison. So. You know. Think Inside Out. What makes envy special is…you have to take context into consideration. Yes, it is also irritability, but it goes beyond that. And it requires language to communicate such a thing.

When you look at animals, that's why they're "unintelligent." They respond to what they feel the way they do because they don't have a way to articulate it. So they just react. Rather blindly in our eyes. Same thing with babies. They haven't gone through language acquisition just yet—they're in the same boat. It's also why a lot of dog breeds are said to "have the same intelligence as a 3 year old." It's related to language. They feel the same emotions, or whatever equivalent (can't claim I know how their bodies process emotions). However, they physically cannot exercise language verbally. Ergo, they're more or less stunted in the acquisition.

And then you have that we are wired to speak. Our mouths by design are made to verbalize complex sounds. A lot of our brain power is in being able to talk, or at least comprehend patterns in speech if the individual is mute. I for one was a child who rarely spoke for my first ~4/5 years, but I knew what people were saying. (Funnily enough, I was a lot like A.J.)

Beyond emotions, it's also to communicate things rather than [follow me, are you following, I'm looking at you, follow me,] it's "okay, I'm going over here, meet me by this tree." There's immediate clarification. There's a passage of thought between two brains. We don't have to interpret body language as much, we have to comprehend words.

To the rest of the animal kingdom, that makes us already mind-readers. Given that people are honest, and can articulate well, we literally are.

…it's also this emphasis on verbal language that has people be real fucking shit a reading body language, but whatever.

The point here is language is so fucking important. And there's a reason why we started writing things down. Some of the first records of written language, hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, were to keep track of agriculture. We also forget things, so we wrote those down. Heard of the Iliad? The Odyssey? Those were orally passed down for generations, but Homer decided to scribe them so they weren't forgotten. (From what I remember, he wrote those during the Hellenistic era of the mythos. …I want to say the stories come from the Mycenaean times?)

And above all.

Long distance communication. Or. Leaving behind knowledge.

So there would be couriers. There would be scholars who learned from scrolls of scribes decades before them.

(In modern times…, labels on products so that you know what it is, how to use it… Just a thought.)

Language is what makes us different. And by proxy, writing helps us retain that.

It is never something people are just going to abandon when the world goes to shit. If anything, it's going to be the one thing people will grapple onto by the skin of their teeth.

Out of the two, yes, language would come first. There are many cultures that lived (even thrived) without having a true writing system, and did just fine because the culture had such an emphasis on oral tradition, or other ways in cementing their culture to the test of time. A lot of the Native American cultures come to mind. Nowadays, however, there's been an effort to have them written so they aren't lost because…colonialism. I don't really need to explain that, but I do think the history is important to understand (the linguist in me is also morbidly fascinated). In summary, however, the way in which these cultures were torn apart rattled people, and people saw their way of life was evaporating with every person lost. They couldn't leave anything physical behind.

I do bring this contrast to light, however, because there is a detail to understand about an apocalyptic setting, and its relationship with written word: it's reflective of what society fell. If the society before was like a lot of the Native cultures, where their culture was recorded through oral traditions and other practices, then sure, I would expect the people left behind to be "illiterate". …at least, in terms of writing. They're literate in those oral traditions and practices.

But, that's not TWDG. What we have is a society that is reliant on writing. So much of our world is articulated through an alphabet printed onto a surface.

In any case, back to the apocalyptic setting.

Another thing is, yes, we do see language come before writing. In survival, it does land people in situations where it's "I don't have time, I've been starving, I'm going to grab all the food in this place before the books." Of course. Then you have that books are heavy. You're not going to realistically carry a library around. You're going to choose other things that would help immediately.

Like a knife. Or a gun.

Those do better bashing heads in than a book (but a tome wouldn't do that bad).

Here's the thing though. To step back to how reliant our society is on writing, I don't think people realize just how much they read. (Hint: you're reading right now. You had to read in order to navigate this page.) So here's the follow images of things that, in an apocalypse, are pivotal for survival, and requires of you reading comprehension:

Signs. Food labels. First Aid labels. Maps. Manuals. Guidebooks.

You need to know where you're at. You need to understand what it is you're eating, how to cook it, and quality (ex: expiration). You need to understand first aid, what you're working with and how to apply it. You need to know where you're going. If you have equipment (like, say, a car) that you're not privy to, but need it, you need to learn basic maintenance. If you're not familiar with how to do certain activities (how to make jerky, how and where to put your urine/fecal matter), you can learn in a guidebook.

Literacy is about self-sufficiency. And each of these represent different aspects of how to live off of the scraps of a failed society.

Signs are pretty straightforward. They're articulated landmarks, and given how streets are, they're good to follow for navigation. If they're signs for complexes, they're a good way to know where you should scavenge should you be looking for a specific thing. Ex: hardware supplies; you're trying to build a camp. Either it's get lucky, or go over to someone's garage, or go over to a hardware store.

Food and First Aid labels are different things—the way they're organized is very different—, however, they serve the same purpose: those are there to inform consumers how to eat/utilize. Even though each have a very specific language, they are designed so that people not specialized in food or medicine can use them. This also applies to a lot of agriculture. Things like seed packets. Or anything that can be planted. If it has a consumer-base, there's a label on it. If it doesn't have instructions, it will most likely inform what it is.

Maps is where we start to get into more "optional" territory. Do you necessarily need a map to survive? No. It would be a life-saver to know where you are, even away from where the society was established. It would also tell you where the next town vs city is (which, to someone like Clementine who may be inclined to avoid cities, she would know which roads to take).

Manuals and guidebooks, again, are the same. They also fall into the kind of thing where weight now has to be considered.

But. Here's the thing: how many people know how to go camping? How many people were ever in boy/girl scouts? And how many more people didn't have to learn any of that because society promised security and the fact that…we don't need to focus on survival?

Okay sure, go on and on and on about how people who knew those skills already and prepped for the apocalypse would be the ones to survive. Because, uh, don't know about you, that's not necessarily how that works (luck is always a thing, and people surprise you), but also, within TWDG, I can only come up with so many people who would fall into that camp: Lilly, Mark, maybe Larry (military experience), Christa (got the vibe), Pete. Um… …Carver? He talked about, like, sheep and stuff. In reference to people, sure, but like… Uh. Hm. Well shit.

You know all the people who didn't have the experience before the apocalypse? Everyone. Fucking. Else. Including Clementine.

This is the reason why manuals and guidebooks are invaluable. They speak to a luxury because you do have the space and capacity to carry them around, so that you can gather what knowledge they have. And people just don't know this shit. Community helps, because you may meet someone who does, or has read up on it, so you don't have to. But when you're alone? …kinda a really, really good thing to have.

And none of that is going into how important books are in just passing the time. People get bored. Books are nice if you got a bum leg.

Regardless, my point should be quite clear. Sure, reading and writing will not be important in the same immediate regard, and neither will be as prolifically done as it was before. Within an apocalypse, it's not about texting, or emails, or news reports, or essays… None of that. Ergo, they're designated as an investment that weighs heavy (quite literally). It takes time to read. It takes strength and space to lug them around. You may not have any.

However. With all of what I raised, it goes back why it is, actually, so fucking important to be literate to some capacity. And to build upon that literacy. Because these people are not just living in caves. They're not in a place where humans have never gone before—quite the opposite.

Which makes it an apocalypse.

In order to navigate within the carcass of a fallen society, you need to be able to comprehend the very scraps that you're taking from said society. It left behind food, and medicine, and tools, and machinery, and knowledge. To just put that all to waste because you can't read?! Really?!

And what about a life-and-death situation where it entirely depends upon your skills in being able to read and comprehend information given to you?

I'm going to go back to the vancomycin now.

It's not something the game harps upon, but it is significant enough to Clementine's arc in S3. This medicine, regardless of injection, is why she could not see A.J, and why she had such a resentment for the New Frontier. They said they could help. In her eyes, they instead left him to die.

It is also a significant point of interest as far as this essay is concerned. Because this scene alone encapsulates all of what I'm rattling on about:

The medicine itself is a scrap of her past society. They're not making these anymore, and while I can…question how good that medicine would be by this point in time after the apocalypse (shots do have an expiration date; they also need to be stored appropriately, like in refrigerators or freezers), the vancomycin represents a limited, valuable resource.

Clementine's comprehension of what this medicine is, and why she needs it, speaks to something far from an ignorance medically. She is competent. She even knows to ensure there aren't air bubbles trapped in the syringe (hence why she lets some of the drug out before injecting; air bubbles can lead to…really nasty ways to die).

How she actually knows which drug to use, well… Either someone wrote it down for her, or she wrote it down herself. Maybe Dr. Lingard told her, or she found a resource somewhere and realized that's what she needed. It speaks to literacy, despite the challenge medical terms often have—even for medical professionals themselves.

This…is what it takes to live in an apocalypse. You have to be perceptive, and resilient, and adaptive.

Part of that adaptation is being perceptive of your environment. This environment asks you to read it—because it says everything, wears its heart on its sleeve. Ergo, you have to adapt by learning how to read.

Maybe not novels, or scriptures, but specific things. Like signs, or labels. Maps.

But this comic, it falls into a bias that a lot of people have.

And that bias bothers me. A lot.

[Why Does This Hurt Me So?]

There are three reason why this just does not work for me.

First of which, Clementine's characterization. The continuity of it. I really don't have to go on about this, since if I do, I'd just regurgitate all of what I've established before. For the sake of this section, it's just that Clementine is medically competent, just not in a specialized sense, and she knows how to read to get by. (She even starts to teach A.J how to both read and write.)

Now we'll get to the larger points of discussion.

Secondly...

How the fuck did Tillie Walden get this project?

Say what you want about the artstyle, or the characterizations, or the narrative. None of that is really what this essay is on, but are all viable criticisms down this same line of thought. You have the artstyle being very whimsical…, but…since when has TWDG been about whimsy? Or the characterizations? Which…, by now, we know about that—again, I don't need to regurgitate. Then, the narrative too? Why does it read like a romance by the time the second book comes around, rather than a story of survival?

Actually, that last one may be relevant to this after all.

Walden does not write apocalyptic works. Of course, there is no correct way in writing an apocalypse, but I'd argue this is one of the wrong ways. Not only do these comics misinterpret the bulk of Clementine's character, and precisely why she's been able to survive as long as she has—to the point where her playing the games at all is put into question—, these comics also have a strange notion on basic intelligence, and does the thing where people without school are just…stupid, almost, if not plainly illiterate.

It goes against what I've outlined as a mark of an apocalyptic setting—the survival both within nature, and within the rotting shell of the society it once was.

And, it feeds into this bias that I keep bringing up.

That bias is the third reason, and it's not a comment on Walden herself, because she's far from the only person I've seen/heard make the same assumption(s).

The bias I refer to is what I'd like to call the Modern Intelligence Fallacy. I'm confident that I and this essay are far from the first to comment on this…thing people do.

Essentially, it's whenever people judge the past and/or present group of people for being "dumber" than the current society they're based on, solely because "we're modern; we have technology, and medicine, and schools. And we know how to read and write too." It's when people undermine other cultures and/or time periods because they themselves are ignorant to what intelligence actually means.

Going back to Native Americans, and any cultures alike that didn't have a written structure. I've heard people make comments and assumptions, rather ignorant ones. But the fact is, no. The lack of a writing system is not indicative of intelligence, it's indicative of what the culture valued, and how they wanted to express that.

Part of why writing is such a core element in many European cultures, for example, is because…colonization. Look at English, and why it's such a patchwork language. They had to find ways to communicate long distance, because have of them were separated be countries between. Ergo, they wrote. Nowadays, there's telephone, or video. Then, there are other contexts which beckoned for writing, but I digress.

With a lot of these Native cultures, they valued community. That's why so many of their traditions fall within that, and that's how they communicated and passed down their history. Essentially, they just found other ways to do what the other cultures around the world were doing, and it worked for them, so what of it?

The attitudes behind this fallacy doesn't care, however. This bias does put value on the presence of language in written word in regards to intelligence, and an overall sense of superiority.

Yes, I've gone through and maintained that I do not believe, for a second, that Clementine is illiterate, and I've been defending that tooth and nail. I also do put value in language—I'm a writer, and I love linguistics. Of course I do.

And that's the awkward bent in this essay.

So, I must say, the thing to understand is…it's not really about the language itself. It's the attitudes behind the bias.

You here to argue that Clementine isn't as competent reader/writer like a girl her age would be now? (…present issues with the school system aside,) yeah. Probably.

But then why…does the comic have her be negligent with medicine? To the point where it comes across as, "Yeah, Clementine! Clean your wound! Everybody should know that! And that's just the basics!

"Silly kid in an apocalypse! She needed a grown adult to carefully explain it to her!! Oh boy, we would be so lost without our society now!"

This is why I've also taken note on the medical throughout all this. Because the medical practices aren't really related to literacy. You can be told, like Clementine was in the games, and go from there.

In the comics, however, the moments where she's told about how to take care of her leg, and the moments where she is learning how to read… They read the same. Because they are the same. They're commenting on this weird idea that humans would be stupid without our current advances, which is ridiculous because in order to have said advances…, we needed to be learning this shit before in order to create them.

These moments come from this Modern Intelligence Fallacy, and it bothers me because, let's face it, we're just as smart as we've always been.We have more knowledge. Whether it's we pass them down through specific traditions, or we've written them down to share beyond time and distance. But in terms of intelligence… No.

Do you know how many stupidass people there are out there?

There's tons of them. If anything, there's more of them now because they can rely on their communities to do the heavy lifting. And they saddle themselves right beside the people who need to rely on others, and not by choice.

I'm talking as though I'm not one of them. I don't know. I might be.

I did accidentally melt two plates in microwaves on two separate occasions so. If you want to take my words with a grain of salt, fine.

With that, though, hopefully my point(s) came across well enough.

[Conclusion]

And now I am left here. With…this.

I'm not as resigned as I was of TWDG since the comics came out, because quite frankly, there's so much to these comics where…it just feels like I'm not watching Clementine. Whether it be I'm on a couch silently judging someone else play the games, but nodding along to play nice, or just…this isn't the character at all… Yeah, I'm still stewing on it. But, I have my fanfiction, and I have the games. It is easy to ignore the comics.

The reason why I've decided to write this is 1) I find it interesting, 2) the bias people have is SUCH a pet peeve of mine, and 3) I am BAFFLED by Skybound. I honestly don't know what qualified Tillie Walden to write this, to the point where I'm frankly impressed.

It's one thing to hire someone who's unfamiliar with the franchise in hopes of an objective and new perspective, or an artstyle to try something new and unique...

And entirely another to hire someone who either isn't interested in writing, or doesn't know how to write, the genre. There are so many ways to go about writing in an apocalypse, but at its core, it will always be "no matter what, humans are going to human." This is how you can have stories of hope in an apocalypse. Or have them be bleak. And so on. With TWD, it's always been a meld of both.

Because it's human are going to human, this…bias towards any scenario where people are not traditionally educated gets in the way. Because "traditional education" is not traditional, actually. It's societal. What is traditional is people learning an array of skills to survive, much of which is medicinal, and with writing… That's dependent on the environment. Way back when, in times where the world didn't rely on literacy, absolutely not many people would be literate. But in eras where so much hinges on at least being able to navigate?

Or or, in times where you are relying on a recent past that did write and read as much as it did for survival? Um. Yeah. You do need to be able to at least read, if not write as well, for communication's sake. Which I didn't go much into, but oh well.

And this right here is what TWD is set in. This universe isn't a hard reset. You're effectively just going back a couple hundred years. All the infrastructures and scraps left behind are still there, just not maintained.

So… Yeah. I don't get it. The most I can fault Walden for is being negligent, but this is just…Skybound, not caring enough about this story to the point where they'll hire anybody for some reason.

I also don't get the bias people have about intelligence, and stuff, but I really…, really don't want to go on a spiel again. It incites violence within me. I've already gone and done a mini spiral over the comics themselves, and they were kinda but not even the point.

Ah well. I'll just crawl back to my hovel now. The links to some of the linguistic concepts I raised are below, if you want to do any additional research. The specific articles are more generalized to give a broad picture, but can be used as a jumping off point should they pique an interest.

I'm just gonna continue to write about my alcoholic Clementine.

Hope you enjoyed.

:)

Linguistic Articles:

History of Writing Systems (1), (2) ; Language Acquisition (1)

Fic Layout:

Ep1 | Between S2 & S3. Ep2-5 | S3. Ep1.5 (Interlude) | S1, Between S1 & S2, Between S2 & S3. Ep6 | Between S2 & S3, Between S3 & S4. Ep7 | Between S3 & S4, S4. Ep8-15 | S4.

General Warnings:

Catharsis, Gore, Extreme/Graphic Violence, Fights, Murder, Horror, Body Horror, Angst, Trauma, a very Cynically Religious Clementine, Raider!Clementine, TWDG retelling (aka, a lot of the dialogue and canon-events will be here, or rewritten), (some, not a lot) Sexual Content (because it's a "growing up" thing not a horny thing, I promise, …and maybe sorta a little bit of how BPD and attachment issues do things), Violentine, a lot of homoeroticism, they are touch starved, Some fairytale symbolism, Louis will be protected and grow tf up.

Mental Health:

Alcoholism, Gambling Addiction, Addiction, Withdrawal, Relapse, Suicide Attempt(s), PTSD, Guilt, Survivor's Guilt, Rehabilitation, Psychosis, Child abuse, Parentification, and how that basically fucks Clementine in the head like a lot, and then A.J too because cycles and trauma, Borderline Personality Disorder, Trauma Trauma Trauma, and you'll never guess, a Clementine who really really really needs help and at least one (1) actual breathing adult in her life.

Oh which reminds me.

Finding guidance in adults who are already very much dead, and please Clementine, would you just bury the corpse?

…okay that's verging on dead dove, but if the game (almost) has an 8-year-old eat a dude's leg, and then a bigger dude get his head smooshed by a salt lick (which tastes gross, I dunno), I think it's still safe.

In Summary:

...okay I may have written a Carver's Clementine by accident bUT it was an ACCIDENT. My hand slipped. She's not evil, just a little demented some days, and bitter on the better ones.

I am half-joking. My hand didn't slip.

She does make the comic's Clementine look like an angel, though. So. There's that.

Anyway, if it's not clear, the tldr is this is my playthrough, and thusly my canon Clementine, just with the story tailored for indulgence and narrative reasons. Cuz. …alcoholism. …and stuff.

Not a great person. Very troubled. But you know. Tis how addiction works.