TarheelSK

mary’s first word–a year old, face too red, eyes somehow too far apart and too close together at the same time, nose a curious hook–is, “please,” and mary’s father says, “no.”

mary’s father loves her, and he always says no. no mary, you can’t go to school; they’ll mock you at school. no mary, you can’t have pretty dresses; they’ll only accentuate your ugliness. no mary, no mary, no mary, no.

“please,” mary says, and her father kisses her too-large forehead. runs his hand along her puffy cheeks. there isn’t any one thing, not any single marker of her ugliness, only individual parts that don’t seem to fit together right. lumps where straight lines should be, pocks along her chin, eyes that were too bright and too big and yet still not considered striking. he kisses her and holds her and says, “no.”

– 

this is what you learn, when you are young and you don’t look how they want you to:

the baker closes at four. if you are hungry, he will feed you, out of pity.

witches are everywhere. witches understand. witches will hold your hand, and run their thumbs along your lifeline. witches will say, take this, and press a bag into your palm. take this, it will help you.

beautiful women look at you once, and then never again. they fear you. they fear what you remind them, which is that natural beauty is unearned and hard-won beauty is unnatural. beauty is arbitrary, but beauty means everything. you are here, you are alive, you are ugly: they do not know what this means.

beautiful men will look at you, and look, and look. they will try to understand. they will say cruel things first, because that is how men are taught to treat ugly things. then they will taper into benign amusement. eventually they will forget you are a person at all, and they will say anything. they will say their darkest secrets and not realize you can hear them.

mary learns. mary listens. mary understands. mary is not as bitter as her name.

–

they say “ugly,” but what they mean is, “stupid.” what they mean is, “useless.” what they mean is, “defeatable.”

“be good, boys,” she scolds a group of particularly loud stable boys as she gathers their empty pints. the lights are dim enough to ease the angled corners of her broad shoulders. they love her here, gentle dim mary, too ugly for marriage. such a shame. what a nice girl, our ugly duckling. 

“Ugly Mary!” says jonas, the butcher’s son. “have a sit. tell us a story.”

“these tables aren’t gon’ clean themselves,” she answers, even as she sits. jonas always leaves his purse on the table. the more drunk he gets, the less attention he pays to its weight. “what kind of story?”

“a good one,” jonas insists. “make us laugh.”

“all right,” says mary, and leans forward. she wraps her fingers around jonas’ purse and holds it up in front of him. “this is my dowry,” she says. 

he laughs, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. the stable boys laugh too. everybody laughs. a dowry, for ugly mary. a dowry! mary palms the purse and leaves an empty one in its place. a witch gave it to her, once. a witch gave it to her and said this will come back to you, no matter how far away you send it.

mary has given jonas the butcher’s son this purse five times. he has always brought it back, confused, asking for his own. “i seem to have stolen this from someone,” he laughed, nervous. “only–don’t tell, mary, eh? i’ll leave it here, and no harm done, eh?”

mary had tutted at him every time. “watch those sticky fingers, jonas,” she’d said. “they’ll get the better of you one day. but it’ll be our secret.”

“last drink’s on the house,” mary says, and whisks their glasses away.

–

a beautiful woman would walk into any room and have all eyes on her long legs, her round mouth, her startling eyes. a beautiful woman would have them on their knees saying yes. a beautiful woman would say, “i want–” and they would say, “we’ll give it.”

everyone wants to please a beautiful woman.

mary’s first trip to the palace is with a hood over her head. don’t make them look too long at you, edna had said, her hands on her hips. edna loves mary, too. edna loves mary and edna always tells mary no.

she’s here to make a delivery, some chickens for a party, and their usual boy has a broken leg. so mary brings the shipment. mary has her witch’s purse in her pocket, a snack from the baker in her mouth. 

“oh, well aren’t you a bit of a divine accident,” says the royal chef, frowning. “angels were scraping the bottom of the barrel for you, eh? parents couldn’t quite get pregnant ‘till you? asked a witch for help?”

mary flashes a smile. first they will be cruel. two days ago, she had knocked out a tooth specifically for this event, and her mouth is swollen. “where should i leave them?” she asks.

“six of them straight to the kitchens, but leave one with me,” the chef says. he is still looking at her. “i’m hungry too, eh? ha!” he winks at her. then they will taper into benign amusement. when mary moves to obey, he catches her arm. “what’s your name, ugly girl?”

“mary,” she answers. her breath whistles through the gap where her tooth used to be. she smiles again, and watches his eyes soften. good.

“ugly mary,” he muses. “i like you, girl. come again, with the next shipment.”

“yes sir,” she says, and smiles.

–

the chef cooks laxative herbs into the food of nobles who mistreat him. he tells her this thoughtlessly, sprinkling a leaf onto the top of a perfectly roasted turkey. his serving boy takes silver from the storage and sells it. their errands boy has been sleeping with the queen’s lady-in-waiting, and the queen’s lady-in-waiting told him that the queen is sleeping with the king’s brother.

there are fights, at night, loud and long in the war room. mary gives her magic purse to the errands boy and he comes to her, days later, in a panic. 

“i don’t know where i got it,” he babbles, “but it’s got a note in it, what says there’s some kind of plot, some kind of secret plan, i–it wasn’t me but if they find me with it–”

mary smiles. “shhh,” she soothes. “it’ll be our secret.”

–

“it’ll be our secret,” mary promises the chef, the purse full of belladonna in her hands. i didn’t mean to, he’d blubbered. i didn’t know, i thought it was sage, i thought it was–

“it’ll be our secret,” mary says to the serving boy, taking the purse from him. the queen’s diamonds are in it. her favorite. she’s gone to war for less. i don’t know where it came from, he’d wept. i must have grabbed it by mistake.

“it’ll be our secret,” mary assures the queen’s lady-in-waiting. the purse is heavy with a vial filled with liquid. enough to terminate–oh god–a pregnancy, the girl had whispered, horrified. i must have taken it from her bathroom, thinking it was mine, i…if she knows…

our secret, mary promises, smiling, smiling. they thank her. they give the purse back, and give it back, and give it back.

–

mary eats well. her mother sells the diamonds mary gave her–“a gift,” she says, smiling, smiling–and their roof is thatched, their clothing mended. they buy a cow.

mary holds onto the vial. she knows better than to waste opportunities on frivolous purchases.

“are you proud of me, father?” mary asks, and her father says, “yes.”

–

“so you’re ugly mary,” says the queen, looking at her.

mary nods. smiles. mary is not as bitter as her name.

the king laughs, loud and booming. the king is not a beautiful man, but beneath the glitter of his crown it’s hard to see. he hides his ugliness, with thick capes and gold crowns; mary knows better.

“can’t seem to get anyone to say a single word against you,” the king says. “everyone says: you want something done, ask ugly mary.”

“if i can serve you, Majesty,” mary says, curtsying deeply, “it would be my honor.”

“no,” says the queen. the queen is beautiful, and she looks away. 

“just to do the cleaning,” the king says, and smiles at her, benign. “nothing like an ugly girl to do the ugly work, eh?”

mary smiles. “indeed, your Majesty,” she says.

–

beautiful women are noticed. you never stop noticing them. they arrest you. they want you to please them, and you want it too.

ugly women are noticed. you never stop noticing them. they arrest you, and you want them to please you. it is not hard to please you. they only have to give you what you think you want.

–

“what i like about you, ugly mary,” says the king, “is that you never make a fuss. i barely realize you’re here.”

that’s not true, mary knows. but she has worked hard to learn how to make it seem as if it is. she is not unnoticed, she is simply unremarkable. surely someone who looks defeated must be defeated.

“aye, Majesty,” she says.

he trails off, fingers running across the bedspread. “what’s this?” he asks, plucking mary’s purse from the sheets. she keeps her eyes on the floor, scrubbing. 

one dose before bedtime, the paper reads. the pregnancy will end with blood.

“the pregnancy will end,” the king says aloud. “the pregnancy will–the pregnancy–”

mary looks up. she waits.

the king’s eyes snap to her. “tell no one,” he says, and mary smiles.

“Majesty, it will be our secret,” she promises.

–

father are you proud of me father are you proud father

yes yes yes yes yes

–

the day of the queen’s death, and the death of the king’s brother, mary stays at the castle. she cleans, and waits. she is careful to be in the king’s chamber when he returns, puffy-eyed. drunk. 

“ugly mary,” he slurs as she tucks him into bed. “she was too beautiful. she lied. her beauty lied, she–you would never lie.”

mary smiles. she takes a liberty she never has before, and brushes his hair from him face. “never, Majesty,” she promises.

“your ugly face hides a beautiful heart,” he slurs, and mary laughs.

“please don’t tell anyone, majesty,” she teases, and he says, “no mary, no. it’ll be our secret.”

–

you are here, you are alive, you are ugly: they do not know what this means.

–

at the wedding, mary does not try to look beautiful. she dresses simply. they love her for it, ugly mary with the beautiful heart.

the chef weeps, the serving boy weeps, the errands boy weeps, the lady-in-waiting weeps. ugly mary has been so kind to them. ugly mary keeps their secrets.

they stand at the altar, mary and her king, her simple king. he looks at her and smiles, so fond, so trusting, so sure. a woman like ugly mary could never betray him. a woman like ugly mary is surely so grateful. gratitude is loyalty. gratitude keeps your secrets.

The Fenton Family moves to the world of My Hero Academia to escape the GIW, initially arriving in America to set up new identities and a cover story before moving to Japan by the recommendation of Clockwork

“I don’t understand,” Chuul’s mandibles clicked nervously, “why not simply take the tool from the human.” 

Minxx’s antennae stood straight up, a sign of shock, fear, or surprise, “You don’t simply take something from a human. If you do they will either turn the ship upside down trying to find it again, or they will replace it with something else that will lead to more destruction.

“I speak quite literally by the way. Human-Mark used to have a tool he called an “Hex Key” he used it to remove the doors to the clothing storage areas in his quarters because he was bored. When he lost it he literally turned the ship upside down by reversing the gravity.” 

Chuul’s tentacles curled up defensively, “Gravity controls are locked, how-”

“No one knows how.” Minxx shook her small wings as the memory of suddenly falling upwards returned to her. “but his reasoning was that the tool would fall out of whatever hiding place it had come to rest within. He had not considered that all tables, chairs, equipment, and personnel, would also fall. It took weeks to clean.” 

To be fair to the human, Mark had only intended to reverse the gravity in his own quarters but had, quote, “pushed the wrong button.” A sentence which would send fear through any intelligent creature in the known galaxy. To be completely unfair to the human, there were still stains on the ceiling in almost every room of the ship from dropped food, chemicals, various other liquids, and even a couple of empty bowels. Some races just didn’t find the idea of resting comfortably in their sleeping quarters, only to be suddenly awakened as they fell ten feet toward a ceiling which had now become a floor. Mark was no longer allowed near environmental controls. 

Minxx continued, “He did not find this “Hex Key.” However, he did find the screwdriver and it seemed to please him when an owner was not located. The captain let him keep it since it seemed that it would keep him from doing any more strange things to locate his original lost tool. We did not consider-” she trailed off as her wings quivered again. 

There was silence between them for a few moments, Minxx was almost unwilling to continue and Chuul was almost too afraid to press for more details. Slowly, but surely, Minxx calmed herself enough to speak again. “we did not consider what he may be able to do when armed with a leverage optimiser.” 

“We were given shore leave while the ship was being fixed after the gravity incident. Thank goodness the captain took out act’s-of-human insurance or it would have cost the profits from our next five cargo hauls.” The premiums were high, but it was worth it. “After 14 rotations, human-Mark began to complain over the lack of stimulation, he called it “bored.” On the 15th rotation he disappeared for some time and he had hoped he had found some new activity to occupy his time.” 

Chuul did, but at the same time didn’t, want to know, “Had he?” 

Minxx waved her antennae in confirmation, “he had. He was located in one of the cargo holds, using the screwdriver to dismantle one of the mining probes. To, quote “see how it worked.” It was almost 90% deconstructed.” 

Mark had claimed it was almost 10% REconstructed, as he was trying to put it back together again, but couldn’t quite remember where all the parts went. In Mark’s words, the captain was a “glass half-empty kinda guy” (whatever that meant) and wrote DEconstructed on the claim form for a replacement probe. 

Chuul’s natural camouflage kicked in and they took on the colour of the chair they were sitting on. “Those probes have no screws for the leverage optimiser to use, how did he-” 

Minxx’s wings shivered again, “no one knows how. He just did.” 

Chuul was silent for a moment. He’d never served on a ship with a human before. He’d heard they made things “interesting” and if you ever got into trouble, a human was the very best thing to ever have on your side. It was why they were so many job opportunities for humans in the alliance. All the same…the thought of a human causing such damage and destruction just because of a lack of mental, or physical, stimulation was a more than a little frightening. What if the human wanted to see how the engines worked, or the weapons?!!  “Maybe I should transfer to another ship.” 

Minxx’s antennae curled, a smile to her race. “You are safe. The captain has found a way to occupy our humans free time. During our last stopover, he commissioned a shiny orb be constructed.” 

Chuul coked their head, “what is a shiny orb?” 

Minxx’s curled antennae moved up an down; a sign of mild laughter. “It is nothing. A sphere made of shiny metals, humans do like shiny things, roughly two feet diameter made of a collection of gears, levers, screws and switches which appear complex and should have a function, but do entirely nothing. The captain handed it to Human-Mark and stated: “see if you can fix this.” and Mark has been “tinkering” with it during his off-duty hours for almost 24 rotations now. He can take it apart and rebuild it as many times as he likes, but it will never perform any task.”

Chuul was just thinking about how their captain must be a genius, when the door to the mess hall opened and Human-Mark entered. He was carrying the shiny orb under one arm, and his screwdriver in the other hand. He looked around, seemingly not noticing any of the crew members. He smiled when he spotted an empty liquid container and sat down at the table with the cup. 

Chuul and Minxx watched curiously as Mark set the orb on the table in front of the cup. He used the screwdriver to tighten one small screw and flipped a switch. At once there was a whirring and clicking of clockwork, a blinking of lights hidden in the depths of the machine and even a TING from a small bell. Then a small funnel-shaped piece of metal opened up in the side of the machine and poured a small amount of hot, black, liquid into the cup.

Mark jumped to his feet, pumping the air and yelling loudly enough to send Chuul’s camouflage reflex off again. He grabbed the orb, abandoning the cup of steaming hot liquid, and moved to the door. 

Minxx stared after them, “Human-Mark?” 

Mark only paused for a second in the doorway. He was prominently displaying his predatory teeth. Chuul had read about these “smiles” but it was still disturbing to see. “Can’t stop Minxy. I gotta let the captain know I fixed his coffee maker.” 

With that, he left. Leaving Chuul and Minxx frozen in place, dumbfounded. 

It's common sense here, except for USians, so I'll analyze it a bit more for the dominant demographic here. In a globalized setting, the most dominant culture affects the others and sets the trends. The way our language works, how we think, our levels of politeness and intimacy, and our levels of respect. (flash news, they are going down 😂)

I don't want to imply that there is nothing good in the US. There are plenty of positives in the country. It's just that for the rest of the cultures online it's a constant daily fight to not forget our roots, with the degree US media and brands have permeated our lives. In Greece at least we watch more US American media than Greek media nowadays, and many of our shows are rip-offs of USian ones, with little adaptation to Greek reality and culture.

And to demonstrate the amount of this exposure, a 22-year-old Greek asked me the other day "if something happens we call 911, right?" This might have literally cost them their life, in a dangerous situation! Because all the movies and songs they consumed (not an unusual thing for the Greek youth) were what they knew. And I found a similar comment in this comment thread.

It's about American media drowning out native language media all over the world, and workplaces requiring the English language in your repertoire more and more. It's about proper translations and foreign language dubbing of films disappearing because "everyone speaks/should speak English anyway." All of this is leading to the deterioration of native speaker groups of languages worldwide.

In my country, Dutch language courses can't find enough people who want to study the language, while English language courses are overflowing with people who want to study the language. There is even widespread distaste for the Dutch language for being crude or sounding rough or what have you. That's our native language!!! That is our culture in its purest form!!! That is knowledge we inherit from our parents as they did from theirs!!! That is how we learned fairytales and folk stories and myths!!! That is the language that shapes our communication and our way of thinking!!! To hate your native language is to hate yourself at the deepest level.

And yet it's so normalised. Droves of foreigners living in the Netherlands will never learn a word of Dutch, because "everyone speaks English anyway." We are the world's leaders in non-native understanding of English, but it comes at a cost. A grave cost we will continue to pay.

If you're looking to support your non-American friends in any way that is not performatively shouting "I hate being an American" into the void, first of all, unlearn that hatred of yourself and your culture. You are of no help self-flagellating, and there is a difference between holding your country accountable for its issues, and denying yourself your culture because your country is doing and has done bad things.

(I am not going to get into arguments about whether or not US American culture exists. It does, and if you think differently you are welcome to change your mind.)

Secondly, learn about other countries. Learn a bit of Chinese. Take an interest in the Italian political system. Ask your friends about their countries' folklore. Watch documentaries about art from Nigeria. Absorb information that is not fed to you by American media.

And thirdly, quit expecting your non-American friends to communicate in a way that appeals to you. The French and Dutch will always seem rude to you because our way of communicating is far more direct than the way you communicate. People from other cultures may seem vague to you because their way of communicating is far more indirect, and you're not used to that either. Quit being frustrated when you don't get what we mean exactly. Quit assuming we mean the absolute worst thing you could imagine just because you didn't get what we meant the first time. Ask us to explain if you need us to, and learn to accept that we are different from you.