thewritersguardianangel:

Aka, a map of how this

(^^^^ open that first for success)

connects to this:

“Whoa there,” you say. “Whoa there, Pen. This looks a lot like that other thing.”

OMG! Yes it does! That’s because they are macaroni and cheese. They belong together. 

Characters, after all, don’t just develop all by their lonesome. It is their journeys and experiences that prompt a person to change- or tests whether they are capable of change. I like to think that the bond between the hero’s journey and the character arc was not something that was created so much as “discovered” in a way. It’s always been there.

“Whoa there, Pen!” Some of you say again. “I have seen the Hero’s Journey before, but I’m pretty sure it said different things?”

Yes it probably did. The different points can have many names, but ultimately, they represent the same type of event. I chose this one because it is, to me, one of the less overly grand and therefore less overly confusing. 

Onward under the cut.

Keep reading

perpetual-stories:

Story Structures for your Next WIP

hello, hello. this post will be mostly for my notes. this is something I need in to be reminded of for my business, but it can also be very useful and beneficial for you guys as well.

everything in life has structure and storytelling is no different, so let’s dive right in :)

First off let’s just review what a story structure is :

• a story is the backbone of the story, the skeleton if you will. It hold the entire story together.
• the structure in which you choose your story will effectively determine how you create drama and depending on the structure you choose it should help you align your story and sequence it with the conflict, climax, and resolution.

1. Freytag’s Pyramid

• this first story structure i will be talking about was named after 19th century German novelist and playwright.
• it is a five point structure that is based off classical Greek tragedies such as Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripedes.
• Freytag’s Pyramid structure consists of:

1. Introduction:the status quo has been established and an inciting incident occurs.
2. Rise or rising action: the protagonist will search and try to achieve their goal, heightening the stakes,
3. Climax: the protagonist can no longer go back, the point of no return if you will.
4. Return or fall: after the climax of the story, tension builds and the story inevitably heads towards…
5. Catastrophe: the main character has reached their lowest point and their greatest fears have come into fruition.

• this structure is used less and less nowadays in modern storytelling mainly due to readers lack of appetite for tragic narratives.

2. The Hero’s Journey

• the hero’s journey is a very well known and popular form of storytelling.
• it is very popular in modern stories such as Star Wars, and movies in the MCU.
• although the hero’s journey was inspired by Joseph Campbell’s concept, a Disney executive Christopher Vogler has created a simplified version:

1. The Ordinary World: The hero’s everyday routine and life is established.
2. The Call of Adventure: the inciting incident.
3. Refusal of the Call: the hero / protagonist is hesitant or reluctant to take on the challenges.
4. Meeting the Mentor: the hero meets someone who will help them and prepare them for the dangers ahead.
5. Crossing the First Threshold: first steps out of the comfort zone are taken.
6. Tests, Allie, Enemies: new challenges occur, and maybe new friends or enemies.
7. Approach to the Inmost Cave: hero approaches goal.
8. The Ordeal: the hero faces their biggest challenge.
9. Reward (Seizing the Sword): the hero manages to get ahold of what they were after.
10. The Road Back: they realize that their goal was not the final hurdle, but may have actually caused a bigger problem than before.
11. Resurrection: a final challenge, testing them on everything they’ve learned.
12. Return with the Elixir: after succeeding they return to their old life.

• the hero’s journey can be applied to any genre of fiction.

3. Three Act Structure:

• this structure splits the story into the ‘beginning, middle and end’ but with in-depth components for each act.

Act 1: Setup:

1. exposition:the status quo or the ordinary life is established.
2. inciting incident: an event sets the whole story into motion.
3. plot point one: the main character decided to take on the challenge head on and she crosses the threshold and the story is now progressing forward.

Act 2: Confrontation:

1. rising action: the stakes are clearer and the hero has started to become familiar with the new world and begins to encounter enemies, allies and tests.
2. midpoint:an event that derails the protagonists mission.
3. plot point two: the hero is tested and fails, and begins to doubt themselves.

Act 3: Resolution:

1. pre-climax:the hero must chose between acting or failing.
2. climax:they fights against the antagonist or danger one last time, but will they succeed?
3. Denouement: loose ends are tied up and the reader discovers the consequences of the climax, and return to ordinary life.

4. Dan Harmon’s Story Circle

• it surprised me to know the creator of Rick and Morty had their own variation of Campbell’s hero’s journey.
• the benefit of Harmon’s approach is that is focuses on the main character’s arc.
• it makes sense that he has such a successful structure, after all the show has multiple seasons, five or six seasons? i don’t know not a fan of the show.

1. the character is in their comfort zone: also known as the status quo or ordinary life.
2. they want something: this is a longing and it can be brought forth by an inciting incident.
3. the character enters and unfamiliar situation: they must take action and do something new to pursue what they want.
4. adapt to it: of course there are challenges, there is struggle and begin to succeed.
5. they get what they want: often a false victory.
6. a heavy price is paid: a realization of what they wanted isn’t what they needed.
7. back to the good old ways: they return to their familiar situation yet with a new truth.
8. having changed: was it for the better or worse?

• i might actually make a operate post going more in depth about dan harmon’s story circle.

5. Fichtean Curve:

• thefichtean curve places the main character in a series of obstacles in order to achieve their goal.
• this structure encourages writers to write a story packed with tension and mini-crises to keep the reader engaged.

1. The Rising Action

• the story must start with an inciting indecent.
• then a series of crisis arise.
• there are often four crises.

2.The Climax:

3. Falling Action

• this type of story telling structure goes very well with flash-back structured story as well as in theatre.

6. Save the Cat Beat Sheet:

• this is another variation of a three act structure created by screenwriter Blake Snyder, and is praised widely by champion storytellers.
• Structure for Save the Cat is as follows: (the numbers in the brackets are for the number of pages required, assuming you’re writing a 110 page screenplay)

1. Opening Image [1]: The first shot of the film. If you’re starting a novel, this would be an opening paragraph or scene that sucks readers into the world of your story.
2. Set-up [1-10]. Establishing the ‘ordinary world’ of your protagonist. What does he want? What is he missing out on?
3. Theme Stated [5]. During the setup, hint at what your story is really about — the truth that your protagonist will discover by the end.
4. Catalyst [12]. The inciting incident!
5. Debate [12-25]. The hero refuses the call to adventure. He tries to avoid the conflict before they are forced into action.
6. Break into Two [25]. The protagonist makes an active choice and the journey begins in earnest.
7. B Story [30]. A subplot kicks in. Often romantic in nature, the protagonist’s subplot should serve to highlight the theme.
8. The Promise of the Premise [30-55]. Often called the ‘fun and games’ stage, this is usually a highly entertaining section where the writer delivers the goods. If you promised an exciting detective story, we’d see the detective in action. If you promised a goofy story of people falling in love, let’s go on some charmingly awkward dates.
9. Midpoint [55].Aplot twist occurs that ups the stakes and makes the hero’s goal harder to achieve — or makes them focus on a new, more important goal.
10. Bad Guys Close In [55-75]. The tension ratchets up. The hero’s obstacles become greater, his plan falls apart, and he is on the back foot.
11. All is Lost [75]. The hero hits rock bottom. He loses everything he’s gained so far, and things are looking bleak. The hero is overpowered by the villain; a mentor dies; our lovebirds have an argument and break up.
12. Dark Night of the Soul [75-85-ish]. Having just lost everything, the hero shambles around the city in a minor-key musical montage before discovering some “new information” that reveals exactly what he needs to do if he wants to take another crack at success. (This new information is often delivered through the B-Story)
13. Break into Three [85]. Armed with this new information, our protagonist decides to try once more!
14. Finale [85-110]. The hero confronts the antagonist or whatever the source of the primary conflict is. The truth that eluded him at the start of the story (established in step three and accentuated by the B Story) is now clear, allowing him to resolve their story.
15. Final Image [110]. A final moment or scene that crystallizes how the character has changed. It’s a reflection, in some way, of the opening image.

(all information regarding the save the cat beat sheet was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

7. Seven Point Story Structure:

• this structure encourages writers to start with the at the end, with the resolution, and work their way back to the starting point.
• this structure is about dramatic changes from beginning to end

1. The Hook. Draw readers in by explaining the protagonist’s current situation. Their state of being at the beginning of the novel should be in direct contrast to what it will be at the end of the novel.
2. Plot Point 1. Whether it’s a person, an idea, an inciting incident, or something else — there should be a “Call to Adventure” of sorts that sets the narrative and character development in motion.
3. Pinch Point 1. Things can’t be all sunshine and roses for your protagonist. Something should go wrong here that applies pressure to the main character, forcing them to step up and solve the problem.
4. Midpoint. A “Turning Point” wherein the main character changes from a passive force to an active force in the story. Whatever the narrative’s main conflict is, the protagonist decides to start meeting it head-on.
5. Pinch Point 2. The second pinch point involves another blow to the protagonist — things go even more awry than they did during the first pinch point. This might involve the passing of a mentor, the failure of a plan, the reveal of a traitor, etc.
6. Plot Point 2. After the calamity of Pinch Point 2, the protagonist learns that they’ve actually had the key to solving the conflict the whole time.
7. Resolution. The story’s primary conflict is resolved — and the character goes through the final bit of development necessary to transform them from who they were at the start of the novel.

(all information regarding the seven point story structure was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

i decided to fit all of them in one post instead of making it a two part post.

i hope you all enjoy this post and feel free to comment or reblog which structure you use the most, or if you have your own you prefer to use! please share with me!

if you find this useful feel free to reblog on instagram and tag me at perpetualstories

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Foolish Wisdom

There was a time when I wrote down my thoughts more consistently and I kept track of my daily and weekly reflections.

Nowadays it feels like I have nothing new to say- and it kind of makes me feel like perhaps that is because there has been no new major developments in my life.

The piping hot steel from the forge has finally cooled, and it has solidified into a casted shape after many years in the flame.

Of course this is entirely untrue.

Yet somewhere along the way, it seems as though I had lost my voice- and the willingness to reflect, share, and discuss in great depth the contents of the new lessons I have learned in the past few years had been less of a priority than had been before.

Perhaps because a lot of what I have learned during the recent years had less to do with theories and abstract ideas from books or insights, and had more to do with things having to be learnt through the bitter taste of experience.

A good portion of my years from my late teens to my early 20’s had been about philosophical inquiry, and re-evaluation of belief, identity, and purpose through reflection- but it seems as though many things in life cannot simply be learned through insight- that life ultimately requires us to participate, and we do not have the luxury of time to wait for when our lives will really begin.

If there are some nuggets of wisdom I had hoped to share since the last time I wrote anything here, I guess it would be:

1) Question everything, but decide on something

2) Anything worth doing, is worth doing- even if done badly in the beginning

3) Do not let hate, jealousy, and conceit turn you bitter, resentful, and cruel

4) Life has a way of making everyone out to be fools… so

5) Find a way to understand people’s pain rather than judge them, to prevent your own further suffering

6) Learn to fail, so you do not fail to learn

7) Understand that whatever you define yourself to be, is most likely not what you actually are

8) The world doesn’t owe you a thing, so find ways to consistently be grateful that it is ever any good at all

9) Once we dispel our own illusions, we are all naked, vulnerable, and ignorant

10) What you resist will persist, and the thing you need is in the place you don’t want to look

11) Be careful to not take your own opinions and views about the world as fact

12) In a world filled with undeniable evil, pain, and suffering, ideals that reflect true compassion, love, and good-will towards others is never overrated

13) Do not let cynicism fool you as wisdom, however..

14) The fool is the precursor to the savior- learn to be a fool, for the fool can learn to be wise through his folly

15) Everything written here is incomplete, and is subject to change

The Lie That Every Story Has In Common - Kurt Vonnegut On The Shapes Of Stories

On Sacrifice

Abraham’s Sacrifice of Isaac

Artwork by Federico Bencovich

During a more primitive time in human history, our ancestors quickly became aware that in order to gain or acquire anything of specific value, one must be willing to become involved in certain dangers.

Often, the hunters and gatherers of a tribe would need to venture out into the unknown, risking life and health in order to bring something back of value for their community.

Over the many years that would follow, this essential lesson would eventually become a central theme and practice in many early creation myths and religious stories: the concept of sacrifice.

We see it in many cultural texts:

We see it in Odin, who was nailed to the world tree, offering his right eye to acquire wisdom.

The Buddha, who left the comforts of his own palace and his family, in order to set forth and find enlightenment.

Abraham, who was willing to sacrifice his own son to fulfill his covenant with God.

And Christ, offering up his own life in order to bring about the salvation of humanity.

It seems that for as long as humans can remember, we have always understood the concept of sacrifice as a substructure- an underlying principle, that governed our reality.

We have conceptualized the forces that influence fate as something that we can negotiate with. In the hopes that if we practice our sacrifices diligently and sufficiently enough, then things will go well for us.

And so, operating under this implicit assumption, we have engaged in the enactment of this long-standing existential drama for as long as we have existed.

Yet sometimes, one cannot help but question the limits we can reach with this principle.

This is made especially clear when faced with the choice of sacrificing- of letting go, of the things in life which we may cherish, treasure, and perhaps even love, most of all.

Why does Fate…

Why does “God”…

Why does Life…

impose such demands?

…

The sad, and painful truth is:

Sometimes life does not go the way we want.

This seems to be in part because of greater forces beyond our control. As well as because of the terrible facts that come with the state of existence. Facts which are impossible to deny.

Yet sometimes, when faced with this situation, the more bitter pill to swallow is that perhaps the world is not entirely the one at fault.

In many ways, the world is revealed to us to an indeterminate degree through the values and ideals we use to interface with it.

And so, perhaps during times like these, it is best to evaluate:

Does the thing which you value most, no longer serve to help you move forward in the direction you wish to go?

…

Perhaps it is necessary to let go.

In part, that may even mean letting go and sacrificing what we love best.

To give up what we thought was essential- what was important, to what constitutes our own selves.

We must learn to let go of what is hurting us:

To give up what we are, in order to become what we could be.

It is only through this sacrifice- the voluntary renouncement of the things we hold in greatest value, that we are able to acquire our deepest truth.

Colon had always thought that heroes had some special kind of clockwork that made them go out and die famously for god, country and apple pie, or whatever particular delicacy their mother made. It had never occurred to him that they might do it because they’d get yelled at if they didn’t.

Terry Pratchett, Jingo

As we’ve followed the Hero through the first and second act of the story, the Hero left his ordinary world, met his mentor, found his allies, confronted his enemies, faced his tests, and finally received his reward.

The second act had the following stages:

• Test, Allies, Enemies
• Approach the Inmost Cave
• Ordeal
• Reward

The third act of the Hero’s Journey consists of the following stages:

• The Road Back
• Resurrection
• Return with the Elixir

After a victory, in which the Hero receives his reward, he/she must take the Road Back from the special world of adventure to the ordinary world. Unbeknown to the Hero, he is being chased by the Shadow towards a final confrontation. The Hero is in direct or indirect danger. The Empire tracks the Millennium Falcon to Yavin. Ripley arrives aboard the Sulaco to find the Alien Queen aboard as well. Neo arrives at the subway station, where Agent Smith confronts him.

At this moment, the Hero suffers death to then have Resurrection. Of course, this death is not literal, but it is a symbolic death, where the old persona of the hero ceases to be. The Hero resurrects as a new person. Luke lets go and uses the Force to destroy the Death Star. Ripley falls with the Alien Queen into the airlock (death) and slowly rises to escape from the vacuum of space (resurrection). In Neo’s case, he is actually killed by Agent Smith, and literally resurrects with the power to become the One. This is the moment that the Hero defeats the Shadow.

At last, the Hero Returns with the Elixir to the ordinary world. The elixir can be a treasure or newfound wisdom to guide the Hero into his/her future. If the Hero fails to bring the treasure or gain wisdom, then the Hero is doomed to repeat the journey. After destroying the Death Star Luke returns to the ordinary world as the hero he always dreamed to become. Ripley finds her peace by saving Newt, and she is able to sleep without nightmares. Neo, with his newfound wisdom and powers, warns the Robot Overlords about how the status quo will change. Don’t bother with the sequels.

Keep in mind these articles are a simplification of the Writer’s Journey. Remember that this is just a structure and not a formula that can write the story for you. The journey can be different in each story. Maybe the Hero will not ignore the call. Perhaps the Mentor is a Shapeshifter and betrays the Hero.  The possibilities are endless.

In the end, even if the path is familiar, a writer can change the structure in order to make each journey an exciting adventure with mythic proportions for our new Heroes.

References:

Vogler, C. (2007). The writer’s journey: mythic structure for writers. Studio City, CA: Michael Wiese Productions.

Many of you may be familiar with Joseph Campbell’s theory of the Hero’s Journey from his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces. The Hero’s Journey, also known as the Monomyth, basically suggests that various myths from different cultures share a similar structure and stages, including similar character archetypes. Christopher Vogler based Campbell’s theory to write his book, The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers.

The Writer’s Journey is a storytelling structure based on the Hero’s Journey, which can be used not only for screenwriting, but also for prose writing. Before going in detail on the structure, we’re going to talk about the character archetypes.

For the following examples I referred to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, The Matrix, andAliens.

We start with the HERO. The Hero, who happens to be the protagonist, has a humble beginning and receives the call for adventure. There are many varieties of heroes, including willing and unwilling heroes, anti-heroes, and loner heroes among others. We have to identify with the hero in order to follow the hero through his journey. Luke Skywalker, Neo, and Ellen Ripley are examples of the Hero.

The Hero should have a MENTOR.  The Mentor is, most of the times, the old wise man that counsels the hero with sage advice so our hero can overcome his challenges. Since the hero must grow, oftentimes the mentor will fall. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Morpheus, and Corporal Hicks are examples of Mentors.

Now who, or what, sends the hero to his journey? That would be the HERALD.  The Herald could be a character, an object, or an event that urges the hero to take an action to commence the journey. Luke finding Princess Leia message, Neo following the White Rabbit. Finally, Burke and Lt. Gorman asking Ripley to go back to LV-426 are examples of the Herald.

The hero is on his way, but he must face challenges that will allow him to grow as a person. The THRESHOLD GUARDIANS will attempt to stop the hero along the way. Most of the times the Threshold Guardian happens to be the henchmen of the villain, but they can also be an antagonist who tries to stop the hero. Imperial Stormtroopers, Sentinels, and the Aliens are examples of the Threshold Guardians.

Of course, the hero won’t be alone to face these challenges. The hero has ALLIES to share that adventure. The Ally can serve many functions; some of those functions are also separate archetypes. The ally can be a companion, a sidekick, comic relief, etc. R2-D2 and C-3PO, Trinity, and the Marines are examples of Allies.

One particular ally is the TRICKSTER. The Trickster happens to be a chaotic character that can be very unpredictable, and also very funny. The Trickster can be the comic relief character but often times the hero can be a Trickster too. Han Solo, Mouse, and Private Hudson are examples of Tricksters.

Now, according to Vogler, the SHAPESHIFTER is the hardest character to grasp since his/her nature changes constantly from our hero’s point of view. This figure, oftentimes from the opposite sex, may present one way and then changes through the story to become the opposite of what it was in the beginning. Femme Fatales are example of this, but many times it could be a traitor. Princess Leia (from a damsel in distress to a capable fighter), Cypher, and Burke are examples of the Shapeshifter.

The Hero has survived his Journey. He has faced many obstacles and challenges. Now he must face the SHADOW. The Shadow happens to be the dark side; the negative force that the hero must overcome. Villains and enemies will try to kill the heroes. An antagonist may not be a villain; he/she may oppose the hero but may not be necessarily evil. Darth Vader, Agent Smith and the Alien Queen are examples of the Shadow archetype.

These are the archetypes that appear in myth, according to Campbell. Some characters can share more than one archetype, for example, Gandalf is both a herald and a mentor to Frodo in The Lord of the Rings.

Great characters have been created based in these mythological archetypes, and with the combination of these archetypes, a writer can create timeless characters that will appear fresh to the audience, even if these archetypes has been present in many different cultures and myths.

References:

Vogler, C. (2007). The writer’s journey: mythic structure for writers (3rd ed.). Studio City, CA: Michael Wiese Productions.

britainb-art:

Sometimes even the villains have standards

“Who’s your favorite character?” I hear that question come up a lot over Avatar: The Last Airbender, a show particularly near and dear to me. Iroh and Toph get tossed around a lot. Zuko is very popular. Sokka has his fans. But something I’ve noticed? Aang very rarely gets the pick. When he comes up, it’s usually in that “Oh, and also…” kind of way. Which is strange, I think, considering he’s the main character, the titular airbender, of the entire show.

I never really thought much about it until a couple weeks ago when I finished my annual re-watch of the series and found myself, for the first time, specifically focused on Aang’s arc. Somehow, I never really paid that much attention to him before. I mean sure, he’s front and center in most episodes, fighting or practicing or learning big spiritual secrets, and yet, he always feels a little overshadowed. Katara takes care of the group. Sokka makes the plans. Zuko has the big, heroic Joseph Campbell journey. Aang…goofs around. He listens and follows and plays with Momo. And yes, at the end his story gets bigger and louder, but even then I feel like a lot of it dodges the spotlight. And here’s why:

Avatar casts the least traditionally-masculine hero you could possibly write as the star of a fantasy war story. Because of that, we don’t see Aang naturally for everything he is, so we look elsewhere.

To show what I mean, I want to talk about some of the show’s other characters, and I want to start with Zuko. Zuko is the hero we’re looking for. He’s tall and hot and complicated. He perseveres in the face of constant setbacks. He uses two swords and shoots fire out of his hands. He trains with a wise old man on ship decks and mountaintops. Occasionally he yells at the sky. He’s got the whole 180-degree moral turn beat for beat, right down to the scars and the sins-of-the-father confrontation scene. And if you were going into battle, some epic affair with battalions of armor-clad infantry, Zuko is the man you’d want leading the charge, Aragorn style. We love Zuko. Because Zuko does what he’s supposed to do.

Now let’s look at Katara. Katara doesn’t do what she’s supposed to do. She doesn’t care about your traditionally gender dynamics because she’s too busy fighting pirates and firebenders, planning military operations with the highest ranking generals in the Earth Kingdom, and dismantling the entire patriarchal structure of the Northern Water Tribe. Somewhere in her spare time she also manages to become one of the greatest waterbenders in the world, train the Avatar, defeat the princess of the Fire Nation in the middle of Sozin’s Comet and take care of the entire rest of the cast for an entire year living in tents and caves. Katara is a badass, and we love that.

So what about Aang? When we meet Aang, he is twelve years old. He is small and his voice hasn’t changed yet. His hobbies include dancing, baking and braiding necklaces with pink flowers. He loves animals. He doesn’t eat meat. He despises violence and spends nine tenths of every fight ducking and dodging. His only “weapon” is a blunt staff, used more for recreation than combat. Through the show, Aang receives most of his training from two young women – Katara and Toph – whom he gives absolute respect, even to the point of reverence. When he questions their instruction, it comes from a place of discomfort or anxiety, never superiority. He defers to women, young women, in matters of strategy and combat. Then he makes a joke at his own expense and goes off to feed his pet lemur.

Now there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this, and it’s the one that shielded Aang from the heroic limelight in my eyes for ten years. The reasoning goes like this: Aang is a child. He has no presumptuous authority complex, no masculinity anxiety, no self-consciousness about his preferred pastimes, because he’s twelve. He’s still the hero, but he’s the prepubescent hero, the hero who can’t lead the charge himself because he’s just not old enough. The problem is, that reasoning just doesn’t hold up when you look at him in the context of the rest of the show.

Let’s look at Azula. Aside from the Avatar himself, Zuko’s sister is arguably the strongest bender in the entire show. We could debate Toph and Ozai all day, but when you look at all Azula does, the evidence is pretty damning. Let’s make a list, shall we?

Azula completely mastered lightning, the highest level firebending technique, in her spare time on a boat, under the instruction of two old women who can’t even bend.

Azula led the drill assault on Ba Sing Sae, one of the most important Fire Nation operations of the entire war, and almost succeeded in conquering the whole Earth Kingdom.

Azula then bested the Kyoshi Warriors, one of the strongest non-bender fighting groups in the entire world, successfully infiltrated the Earth Kingdom in disguise, befriended its monarch, learned of the enemy’s most secret operation, emotionally manipulated her older brother, overthrew the captain of the secret police and did conquer the Earth Kingdom, something three Fire Lords, numerous technological monstrosities, and countless generals, including her uncle, failed to do in a century.

And she did this all when she was fourteen.

That last part is easy to forget. Azula seems so much her brother’s peer, we forget she’s the same age as Katara. And that means that when we first meet Azula, she’s only a year older than Aang is at the end of the series. So to dismiss Aang’s autonomy, maturity or capability because of his age is ridiculous, understanding that he and Azula could have been in the same preschool class.

We must then accept Aang for what he truly is: the hero of the story, the leader of the charge, who repeatedly displays restraint and meekness, not because of his age, not because of his upbringing, not because of some character flaw, but because he chooses too. We clamor for strong female characters, and for excellent reason. But nobody every calls for more weak male characters. Not weak in a negative sense, but weak in a sense that he listens when heroes talk. He negotiates when heroes fight. And when heroes are sharpening their blades, planning their strategies and stringing along their hetero love interests, Aang is making jewelry, feeding Appa, and wearing that flower crown he got from a travelling band of hippies. If all Aang’s hobbies and habits were transposed onto Toph or Katara, we’d see it as a weakening of their characters. But with Aang it’s cute, because he’s a child. Only it isn’t, because he’s not.

Even in his relationship with Katara, a landmark piece of any traditional protagonist’s identity, Aang defies expectations. From the moment he wakes up in episode one, he is infatuated with the young woman who would become his oldest teacher and closest friend. Throughout season one we see many examples of his puppy love expressing itself, usually to no avail. But there’s one episode in particular that I always thought a little odd, and that’s Jet.

InJet, Katara has an infatuation of her own. The titular vigilante outlaw sweeps her off her feet, literally, with his stunning hair, his masterful swordsmanship and his apparent selflessness. You’d think this would elicit some kind of jealousy from Aang. There’s no way he’s ignorant of what’s happening, as Sokka sarcastically refers to Jet as Katara’s boyfriend directly in Aang’s presence, and she doesn’t even dispute it. But even then, we never see any kind of rivalry manifest in Aang. Rather, he seems in full support of it. He repeatedly praises Jet, impressed by his leadership and carefree attitude. Despite his overwhelming affection for Katara, he evaluates both her and Jet on their own merits as people. There is no sense of ownership or macho competition.

Contrast this with Zuko’s reaction to a similar scenario in season three’s The Beach. Zuko goes to a party with his girlfriend, and at that party he sees her talking to another guy. His reaction? Throwing the challenger into the wall, shattering a vase, yelling at Mai, and storming out. This may seem a little extreme, but it’s also what we’d expect to an extent. Zuko is being challenged. He feels threatened in his station as a man, and he responds physically, asserting his strength and dominance as best he can.

I could go on and on. I could talk about how the first time Aang trains with a dedicated waterbending master, he tries to quit because of sexist double standards, only changing his mind after Katara’s urging. I could talk about how Aang is cast as a woman in the Fire Nation’s propaganda theatre piece bashing him and his friends. Because in a patriarchal society, the worst thing a man can be is feminine. I could talk about the only times Aang causes any kind of real destruction in the Avatar state, it’s not even him, since he doesn’t gain control of the skill until the show’s closing moments. Every time he is powerless in his own power and guilt-ridden right after, until the very end when he finally gains control, and what does he do with all that potential? He raises the rivers, and puts the fires out.

Aang isn’t what he’s supposed to be. He rejects every masculine expectation placed on his role, and in doing so he dodges center stage of his own show. It’s shocking to think about how many times I just forgot about Aang. Even at the end, when his voice has dropped and his abs have filled in, we miss it. Zuko’s coronation comes and we cheer with the crowd, psyched to see our hero crowned. Then the Fire Lord shakes his head, gestures behind him and declares “the real hero is the Avatar.” It’s like he’s talking to us. “Don’t you get it?” he asks. “Did you miss it? This is his story. But you forgot that. Because he was small. And silly. And he hated fighting. And he loved to dance. Look at him,” Zuko seems to say. “He’s your hero. Avatar Aang, defier of gender norms, champion of self-identity, feminist icon.”

In the morning—if indeed it was morning, as the underworld remained lit to a dull red glow the entire time she’d been underground—Ursa uncurled from beside Cerberus and climbed her staff hand-over-hand until she had more or less regained her feet. Her back ached from sleeping on jagged rocks, and she winced when she put her weight on her injured knee. The hellhound had shattered her bones, and her magic had healed them once more, but “good as new” they were not.

After a quick, conjured breakfast, the pair continued on their way. The druid kept a steady—albeit slow—pace, but the three-headed dog took the long way: running this way and that, snorfling urgently at scents that only he could detect, and marking the passage from time to time as he went.

After a half-hour or so of shambling, keeping as much weight on her staff as she could manage, the passageway opened to a cavern so vast that it was hard to believe they could still be underground. In fact, the extents faded into the distance, so she doubted she could see precisely just how vast it truly was.

And everywhere, everywhere she looked, souls of the departed gathered. Some sat in groups, others wandered singly, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed her. “Tuur!” she shouted at the multitudes, then not as loud, “Tuur.”

Her staff slipped from her grip and clattered against the stone. “Shit,” she whispered to no one. She hung her head. “I suppose it makes sense … everyone who has ever passed away in all of history…”

Cerberus stooped, and his leftmost head retrieved her staff, then held it out for her until she took it from his mouth. “Thanks buddy,” she said, taking a moment to pet his snout. “Hope you’re not expecting to play fetch with it.”

“Aw, why the long face?” asked a melodious voice from behind her.

Ursa spun as quickly as she could manage without falling over, she raised her staff defensively, but the bear leaning up against the cavern wall did not react. He just smiled as if this were the greatest place to be.

And. He. Was. Gorgeous!

Despite her eternal love for Tuur, just the sight of the grizzly with the perfect cinnamon fur was enough to make her heart beat louder. He had golden eyes, powerful muscles, and a belly so vast that it looked like he was ready for winter’s nap. And sure, the horns on his head and the bat wings on his back were unusual, but with the look he had going, they worked.

“Oh, I see,” he said, his perfectly white teeth sparkling like stars, “you’ve come looking for someone named Tuur.”

“I… I am!” she gasped. Then, struggling to contain herself, she hobbled closer. “Do you know him? He’s a panda with a terrible sense of humor, the sweetest disposition, and brown eyes so soft…” She shook herself from her memories. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The bear grinned wide. His eyes disappeared into crescents and his teeth gleamed so brightly that they filled Ursa’s vision. She leaned forward on her toes waiting until he laughed, “Not a chance!”

“Oh,” the druid huffed, sinking in on herself slightly.

“But I do know a lovely couple who will!”

“You do?” she gasped, but he was already walking away, strolling with long strides as if headed to a fancy party. “Wait! Wait!” Ursa called as she hobbled after him.

Cerberus whined but remained by the druid’s side, and the two rushed to keep up with the cinnamon grizzly. Though he walked quickly, he never let himself get so far ahead that Ursa lost track of him.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the druid scrunched up her face, confused at the sight. A pair of doors, each standing seven foot tall and nearly three feet wide, had been mounted to a flat spot in the cavern floor. With craftsmanship beyond any she’d seen before, both had been carved to resemble a bear’s face. But though the doors’ bases looked sturdy enough, there wasn’t any sort of wall behind them. The two were free-standing in their casings as if someone had forgotten to build a home behind them.

“Uh,” Ursa muttered, confused. She took a moment to peek around the doors, but the back sides looked no different than the fronts.

“Never mind that,” laughed the winged bear. From atop one of the doors, he snatched a wand, and from the darkness above them, four brilliant lights came to life like sunlight streaming through gaps in dark clouds—one focused on either of the doors, one on the cinnamon grizzly, and one on Ursa herself. She winced and shielded her eyes, her night vision so disrupted that the rest of the cavern fell away into darkness.

The horned bear pointed the wand at his mouth, and in the smoothest of tones, he announced, “Welcome once again! Today’s challenger is…” He pointed the wand at the druid’s mouth and waited, his teeth sparkling like diamonds.

“Uh… Ursa?” she said into the twig.

“Welcome, Ursa!” he laughed, the wand pointed back at his own mouth. With a twinkle in his eye, he explained, “Today, Ursa will be facing two doors. Door number one has been carved from hickory, and the grain has been polished to a beautiful shine.”

The carving on the leftmost door came to life. It looked shyly down, a blush of mahogany coming to each of her cheeks. “Oh, Typhon, that’s so kind of you to say!”

“Oh, whatever,” grunted the face carved into the rightmost door.

“Door number two has been carved from one single slab of oak!” Typhon announced.

“Like that’s something to be proud of,” huffed the hickory door.

“Uh,” interrupted Ursa, “and how is this supposed to help me find Tuur?”

“Because,” the horned bear explained with one finger raised, “stepping through one of these doors will take you right to him!”

The druid frowned, apprehension lining her face. “And the other?”

“To annihilation!” Typhon cheered, his voice dripping with honey.

“What?” gasped Ursa.

“He means,” the door on the left explained, “that if you were foolish enough to step through that door,”—the hickory face glared at the oaken door—“then you’ll be completely annihilated, and you’ll never be able to reunite with Tuur—not even in death.”

“Ugh,” the oaken door growled. “Why do you tell everyone that? You’re the door that leads to annihilation!”

Ursa’s lower lip drooped. She turned to the winged bear. “Which door leads me to Tuur?”

“Don’t ask me! Only they know. But I’ll warn you,” the cinnamon bear laughed, mugging a grin as if he were using his favorite catchphrase, “Someone’s a Liar!”

“So, I guess you’re saying that I need to … uh…” she said, seeking affirmation from Typhon that he wasn’t giving her, “have to first discern which door is the liar … and then ask the other door which one leads to Tuur?”

The winged bear only smiled. Ursa looked over at Cerberus, but though he tilted his head supportively, his size and strength couldn’t help her. So, she turned back to the doors and addressed them both, “What color is my fur?”

The carved bears responded simultaneously; though the oaken door replied, “Brown,” while the hickory door said, “A lovely shade of brown.”

Ursa scowled. Her fur was brown, so the oaken door hadn’t lied. Did that mean that her fur being lovely was a lie?

She scowled over at Typhon, but he winked when he explained, “It would be far too simple a challenge if one door could only tell lies, my dear. One of them lies, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s not capable of telling the truth.”

“Okay,” said Ursa, “so, I need to figure out which door is incapable of lying and ask them which door to take.”

Hickory started, “If you wanted to know who was capable of cruelty—”

But Oak interrupted, “Back to this, huh? I already apologized! And you never even—”

“I don’t owe you forgiveness!” shouted Hickory.

“Guys?” Typhon whispered from the side of his mouth. “We’re getting off track here.”

“And how could I forgive,” Hickory barreled on, “when you just keep doing it?”

“All I said was—”

“I know what you said!”

“But all I—”

“It wasn’t what you said, and you know it!” she shouted over him. “It was how you said it!”

“I can see that you guys are having some issues right now…” Ursa said in a reassuring voice, but her attempt to mediate between the doors fell flat.

“This is the same sort of crap you’ve pulled for the last millennium!” shouted Hickory.

“Me?” Oak shouted back. “Ever think that maybe you’re over-sensitive and taking everything as an attack? I could ask what time it is, and you’d pretend that I was calling you old!”

Cerberus whined and the druid leaned back against him, frowning hard.

“C’mon, I need you on your A-game, guys!” the horned bear hissed at the doors, but they ignored him, shouting louder and louder—shouting always, listening never.

Typhon looked over at Ursa. He smiled at her, but the smooth, easy grin he’d worn before looked faded and desperate. “Heh. Looks like today’s challenge is … uh, extra exciting!”

“Not really,” the druid huffed. “Pretty simple stuff, actually.”

Typhon’s face lit with hope once more. “Oh yeah? I mean of course, oh yeah! For a clever adventurer like you … uh…”

The druid just stared at him, and he searched desperately for something to say. At last, he managed, “Someone’s a Liar!” but he failed to deliver it with even a fraction of the charm he’d used before.

“Yup,” said Ursa.

“Oh, uh, so you’ve figured out which door is which?”

Ursa leaned her weight back on her staff. “They both lead to oblivion,” she said as she turned to walk away.

“Uh, no!” Typhon chuckled. “That’s not how this game is played!”

“And you,” Ursa said without looking back, “are the liar.”

Writing by my author friend Gre7g Luterman! Illustration by me~

Ursa squeezed past the roughhewn planks and into the dimly lit cavern beyond. At times she had to duck, other times she had to crawl, and then there were a few spots where the passage grew so narrow that she feared she’d have to turn back. But eventually, the way opened wide and tall, and her only challenge was keeping from sliding down the chute of loose stones that led her deep into the earth’s crust.

While she hiked across the scree, Ursa tried to puzzle out the source of the red light illuminating the cavern. Wherever the glow was emanating from, it didn’t seem to cast a shadow. The dim light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Using her staff to steady her footing, she worked her way down the gentle slope for half an hour until—perhaps a hundred yards ahead of her—she could see that the cavern narrowed abruptly into a lumpy corridor. But blocking the way was a different sort of lump—something huge and hairy rested on the cavern floor, its attention focused solely on the corridor beyond.

“Hello?” called the bear, not wanting to startle the humongous creature. “Are you trapped?” she asked. The way ahead looked large enough for the creature to navigate, but she was confident that the way behind her wouldn’t be.

Six ears stood high and pointed her way before the creature rose and turned. The beast was huge! It easily stood seven foot tall at the shoulder, and three different heads loomed high above that. Metal clanked and echoed off the stone walls, but the growl that followed rattled the teeth in Ursa’s mouth.

“What the…?” she gasped. “No!” She hurried forward, scrambling over rocks and gravel, moving so quickly that the beast actually took a full step back as she approached.

Ursa skidded to a stop. A chain—each iron link forged as thick as her thumb—dangled from the creature’s middle neck and ended in a thick iron plate bolted to the cavern’s floor. She grabbed one of the links and heaved, pulling just as hard as she could, but the iron plate showed no sign of yielding.

“Who…” she grunted while she pulled, “did this to you?”

The dog’s leftmost head—with curious eyes and shaggy fur—stooped to sniff at the druid while she toiled. It shoved its cold nose up under her armpit and nearly bowled her over with a snorfling sniff.

“Stop that! Stop that!” She put her palm flat on his forehead and shoved him away, only for him to stick his snout back under her arm again the moment she tried to pull the chain free. “Stop it!” she giggled as the sniffing intensified.

Giving up on pulling the plate loose with her hands, Ursa shoved the end of her staff into the bottom-most link. She channeled her life force into twisted length of oak until it glowed bright green, but the wood creaked and threatened to snap when she pried against the stone floor.

“Damn it,” Ursa grunted in frustration, throwing down the staff. Then, she followed the chain up with her hands.

The dog’s middle head—sleek of fur and eyes wide with worry—tugged hard on the chain, pulling it taut until the spiked leather collar rode up as high on the dog’s neck as possible.

“Oh, you poor thing!” cooed Ursa the Kind. “Your neck is rubbed absolutely raw. When was the last time this collar came off?”

The middle head yawned nervously, and it licked at its lips, but Ursa grabbed the end of the collar strap and yanked it loose from the loop. “Shh, don’t pull so hard,” she whispered. “Just let me have a little slack, and I’ll get you free.”

For just a moment, the dog eased up, and the druid pulled the prong loose, so the strap could slide from the buckle. With a dull metallic clunk, the collar and chain fell to the stone floor. All three heads crowded around the collar, sniffing madly at it, but Ursa ignored the horrid thing.

Instead, she put her hands to the raw skin where the collar had rubbed the fur from the dog’s neck, then she channeled her healing magic into it to sooth the damage. “I don’t know who could have been so cruel and thoughtless,” she grumbled, “but they better hope that I never get a hold of them…”

When the spell was complete, Ursa stooped and retrieved her staff. While bent over, she checked the tag that still hung from the collar. When she stood, she found herself eye-to-eye with the third face. The rightmost head glared at her, eyes glowing yellow and a pelt that was more scabs and scars than fur.

“Cerberus, huh?” she asked the third head. She ran her fingers across his pelt. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for the scars. The scabs I can fix, but they’re just cosmetic at this point.” Still, fed a trickle of healing power into him and the dry, crusty skin fell away, leaving fresh, mostly smooth skin beneath.

The third head stared, fierce still not as aggressively as it had before. “There. At least that will keep you from scratching at them, keep them from getting infected,” she said.

Ursa kissed his cold nose, before waving and heading down the passageway alone. Over her shoulder, she called back, “You be a good boy now, okay?”

The druid continued on her way for another hour. At times, she thought she heard movement or the sounds of a creature, but nothing she heard was comforting and familiar. She knew the sounds of every forest dweller, but here in the underworld, she had no idea what to expect. She’d certainly never run across a three-headed dog before, that was for certain. Just lucky for her that it was so friendly.

Ursa yawned. There was no deadfall inside this cavern, but that wouldn’t much matter. She wouldn’t need a fire for warmth and didn’t need to build a shelter from the elements. Besides, she had plenty of mana left to conjure some food and drink, but she was growing a little anxious about finding a place to rest.

Normally, she would take turns with Tuur keeping watch so that the other could rest, but with his passing, he’d left her alone in the world. So, Ursa kept an eye out for cracks and side passages—hoping to find one wide enough that she could squeeze inside but still sufficiently snug that it might keep a foe at bay. Considering her height and girth, she didn’t hold high hopes, but she knew she’d rest easier even in an alcove than she would curled up in the main tunnel.

She heard the sound once more, and then again, but louder this time, a crunching of feet on gravel. “Hello?” called Ursa. “Who’s there?”

Around a bend, two eyes peeked out, glowing red like coals in a bonfire. Beneath that, a huge maw slowly opened, featuring an unnatural number of teeth. With each heaving breath it exhaled, black smoke and drifting embers floated out.

Ursa paused, uncertain. In some ways, the creature reminded her of a dog, but in other ways a bull—not only due to its massive size, but also from its proportions. Most of the beast’s weight centered over its forelegs.

She’d been a druid almost all her life, and at this point, Ursa used several spells so often that it hardly even registered when she’d cast them. “Animal Friendship”, in particular, would have to top that list. “Who’s a good boy?” she asked, projecting friendly confidence.

But at this, the creature scrambled forward, its long claws digging deep, kicking rocks and gravel out behind it as it ran her way.

The druid grabbed her staff from the narrow end, holding the curling top out in front of her. “Now, hold up there!” she called, trying to project calming caution, but the creature didn’t slow. Ignoring the staff, the monster leapt, claws and teeth slashing the air while Ursa rolled away to safety.

The hellhound circled about, preparing to charge her once more, while Ursa slapped a hand to her shoulder, stemming the blood flow from the monster’s glancing bite.

“Now, you stay right there!” the bear shouted. Without any conscious thought, her hand traced spellforms in the air, and a thick mass of vines sprung up from the gravel beneath the creature’s feet. The hellhound yelped in surprise, trying to step away, but the vines moved quickly, entangling all four of its coal-black legs.

Instead of fighting with the vines, the hound drew a deep breath and then spat a gout of flame in Ursa’s direction. She tried to dodge out of the way but took most of the fiery impact to her shoulder and back.

“Gah!” she shouted as she tried backing away over the loose scree, trying to get out of range should the creature try its breath weapon once more.

Frustrated, the hellhound bit furiously at the vines that held it, snarling and snapping as it tore the lush greenery away. Meanwhile, Ursa grabbed her staff in both shaking hands and chanted, channeling the powers of nature and life until a black and swirling storm cloud obscured the cavern’s ceiling. Power, pure energy crackled inside the cloud as static electricity arced across the underside of the cloud and concentrated in the middle.

At nearly the same moment, the hellhound broke free of the last vine holding it in place and a lightning bolt nearly as thick as Ursa’s arm leapt from the cloud to the vine-covered cavern floor.

In the dim, enclosed space, the flash of light and explosion of thunder were so intense that they knocked the druid backward, and she slid down the loose scree on her burnt back. Her pupils constricted to pinpricks, leaving her blinded.

“Did I get it?” she gasped, lifting her head.

But as if in answer to her question, she heard the bark as it leapt. Then, it landed on her legs. Ursa screamed as its claws dug deep in her thigh, its teeth sank into her knee.

With its massive neck muscles, the beast shook her like a rag doll, her knee snapping and popping as the bones shattered.

“Help me!” Ursa screamed on the verge of passing out. But the creature showed her no mercy, only loosening its bite for a moment to try and get a better grip.

The bear swung her staff blindly while it gnawed on her leg, sometimes connecting and sometimes swishing through open air.

But then, just as she was certain she’d meet her doom, a great baying howl filled the chamber as a gigantic three-headed dog bounded toward the combatants.

For a moment, the hellhound hesitated as if uncertain whether Cerberus would side with him or the bear—but only for a moment. Then, it released Ursa’s leg and bolted, unwilling to challenge the gigantic dog for the meal.

Ursa didn’t even bother taking a parting swing as it ran. Instead, she grabbed her leg with both hands and tried to squeeze the larger wounds closed.

Cerberus skidded to a stop at her side. Then, he rolled on his back curling this way and that, as if trying to scratch an itch with the cavern’s floor. Then he stopped, his leftmost head staring at her, shaggy fur disheveled and tongue lolling as he waited.

Ursa groaned in pain. “Okay, okay,” she finally managed. “Sure, belly rubs, but first I need to use the rest of my spell slots on this knee if I want to keep my leg.”

Writing by my author friend Gre7g Luterman! Illustration by me~