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journalofimprobablethings · 3 years

Text

take me back to the start

That idea about the Chalice and Lucretia would not leave me alone, so here's the full dang thing. Turns out Lucretia's temptation takes about 4k words.

Tags: Mentioned Lup, Mentioned Magnus Burnsides, Stolen Century Spoilers, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation

Summary: The Chalice makes Lucretia an offer, and she has to decide whether she's willing to pay the price for a second chance.

Full thing below but you can also read it on AO3 here

Lucretia wakes up in a white space.

She blinks, and as the room comes into focus, she can see it's not just an undefined void. There are shapes around her: furniture and plants, pillows and blankets and a coffee table, all so familiar—and she realizes with a pang that she's in the lounge of the Starblaster. But it's like she's in a ghost version of the room; everything is washed out, somehow insubstantial. She reaches out and touches a pillow, and even though she can feel it, there's something not quite there about it.

She looks around, torn between confusion at her surroundings and a sort of painful joy at the familiarity of it all. Then she jumps as a voice speaks behind her.

"Hey, Luce."

She turns and there, sitting on one of the couches, is Magnus.

Unlike the rest of the room, he's not washed out or ghostly. He's all there, solid, full-color. He's leaning back against the cushions, his arms spread over the top of the couch. He looks so relaxed, totally at home in a way she hasn't seen in a long time. Something about the whole scene bothers her, but she can't put a finger on what it is.

"Magnus? Where—what is this?"

"I thought we should talk. Since you finally found me and all."

"Finally found you? What are you—?" She looks at him more closely. There's something...off about him. The way he's sitting, the way he holds his head—it's like someone doing an impression of Magnus: the broad strokes are there, but the details are not quite right.

Then she realizes what it was that bothered her just now:

He'd called her Luce.

It's been years since anyone has called her that. Magnus always used to, before. But the Magnus she knows right now, at the Bureau, has never used that name for her. He's forgotten that he ever did.

She takes a step back.

"You're not Magnus."

He smiles, and there's a sharpness in it that sends a shiver down her spine. "No, I'm not."

"Who are you?"

Magnus—or the thing pretending to be Magnus—leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

"What were you doing just now? Before you came here?"

She thinks back. The boys had just gotten back from Refuge, had told her the story of the time-stuck town and all their loops—all their deaths. (And she'd wondered then whether it had felt familiar, all that dying. But she'd said nothing.) They'd told her, in broad terms, about the thrall of this most recent relic, how it was different from the others.

And then she'd gone back to her office, to channel the Light out of the relic into her staff.

She looks at not-Magnus again, a mix of fear and fascination roiling inside her.

"The Chalice," she says. "You're the Chalice."

He smiles, wider this time, and a smile that is distinctly un-Magnus-like.

"That's right," he says. "And I want to show you something."

Lucretia closes her eyes against that smile, takes a breath to steady herself.

The Chalice.

When she’s thought about what it would take to collect the relics, this is the one that has always worried and frightened her the most. The others have their thrall, but the things they offer—riches, power—are things that she has an easy enough time rejecting. She’s never wanted those things, not really.

But the Chalice holds something that she has always wanted desperately: the opportunity to fix your mistakes. The idea of second chances.

She’d worried about sending Magnus and Merle and Taako after it—even without all their memories, there are plenty of things they might wish were different. They didn’t go into detail about what the Chalice offered them, but she knows it can’t have been easy. She's proud of them for resisting it.

She's not sure she'd be as strong.

Lucretia opens her eyes, and summons every bit of the gravitas and distance she has cultivated in the last decade, pulling her professional mask back into place.

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she says. “I know what I’ve done. And even if there are things I wish were different, I know you’re not the solution.”

His face twists into a wry smile. “Look at you, Luce. We used to think you were such a wallflower. And now here you are: Madam Director. You're so...sure. So certain that everything you've done is for the best."

She shouldn't let it hurt her, the hint of judgement in his voice. This isn't Magnus, after all. But she can't help feeling stung.

"I did what I had to do," she says.

"And it's worth it? Worth the price you made us pay?"

"Don't say us," she snaps. "You're not him."

"You're avoiding the question."

He stands, and she resists the urge to step away from him as he approaches her.

“Come on,” the Chalice says, with Magnus’s voice, Magnus’s earnestness. “There really isn't anything you'd change? You really don't want a second chance to get it right?”

She could almost laugh at the question. Of course she wants a second chance. Of course there are things she wants to change. Every day when she looks at Davenport, when she watches the boys train and notes the difference in how they treat each other, she longs for what used to be. She can’t say she hasn’t thought about what she could do with the Chalice’s power, wondered what it would be like if she--

Wait.

There’s something missing here, something she’s forgetting. It’s a terrifying feeling, like missing a step on the stairs, putting your foot down expecting solid ground and finding only empty air. (Is this what it felt like? a tiny part of her whispers. Is this what she did to them?)

She does back away from the Chalice now, just a few steps. Her heart is beating hard in her chest, and she closes her hands into fists to stop them shaking.

"Why am I here?" she asks. “You shouldn’t be able to do this.”

"Oh, Luce." He smiles again, that same, awful, sharp smile. “You know why. You picked me up.”

She—

Oh.

Oh, no.

She had been in her office, getting ready to channel this piece of the Light into her staff, to join it with the others. She didn’t need to take the relic out of the iron ball it had been placed in to do this. No need to touch it, to risk being thralled. That was the point.

But she had been so curious.

This relic, of all of them, has always held such fascination for her.

“You wanted to see what I can do," the Chalice says. “And here I am.”

And with that, the lounge around them disappears. The ghostly furniture vanishes, leaving only the white void behind—and the Chalice standing next to her, still wearing Magnus's face. He reaches for her hand, but she jerks away before he can take it.

"Let me show you," he says. "I promise I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. Just let me show you."

Then he gestures, and the void around them bursts into life.

At first, there is so much at once the Lucretia can't parse through the chaos of colors and images. But as her eyes grow more accustomed, she realizes that they are surrounded by her memories. She sees snippets of herself over the last weeks, sitting in her office at the Bureau, talking to Avi in the cannon bay, visiting Johann and Fisher downstairs. She sees herself at the spa with Merle, trying Taako's macarons at the Candlenights party. The memories move farther and farther back in time, and as they do they begin to fly by faster and faster until the images blur together and the specifics are lost in a swirl of color. The flash and movement of it churns Lucretia's stomach, and she tries to turn away, to block it out, but the Chalice takes her by the arm and will not let her turn.

"Look," he says.

The blur of memories is slowing again, enough that she can once again pick out individual images—and as they resolve, the memories they show hit her like a knife in the gut.

Lucretia is surrounded, suddenly, but images of the day she broke their family apart.

She sees herself leaving Merle in the house she found for him on the beach

walking away from Magnus's carpentry shop in Raven's Roost

leaving Taako asleep in the back of his caravan

finding Barry's body in a field outside Neverwinter

collapsed on the floor beside Davenport's bed as he curls under the covers, clutching his temples.

Each image is clearer than the last, and each one twists the knife in her gut a little deeper. She wraps her arms tight around herself, trying to steady herself, to hold herself together, but she can't keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Please," she says. "I don't want to see this."

"Why not? I thought you did what you had to do." There is no pity in his voice. "I thought this price was worth paying."

The memories keep coming, and she sees herself finding each of her family after the redaction, reaching out to try and calm and comfort them. She sees Magnus walking into her room, the journal floating in Fisher's tank, a duck painted to look just like her dropping to the floor. She watches herself catch Magnus as he staggers, watches as her knees give out under his weight, as she catches his head before it can hit the floor and whispers assurances and love that he is too lost to hear.

The Magnus standing next to her watches too, expressionless.

It feels like they linger on that scene for an eternity before it, too, fades away.

Then, finally, the flashes of memories slow and stop, exactly where Lucretia knew they would.

They're standing in her quarters on the Starblaster, the glow from Fisher's tank casting the room into shades of grey and blue. Along one wall, the bookcase where she kept all her journals is half empty, each shelf pockmarked with holes. The desk is a mess of papers and journals and mugs of tea long gone cold. Lucretia looks to the corner where Fisher's tank sits, and even though she knows what to expect, the sight still takes her breath away.

She sees herself, wearing her red IPRE jacket, her hair longer than she's had it in years, stray curls escaping from the cord holding it in place. She's standing frozen in front of Fisher's tank, holding a blue journal bound in silver trim in both hands. Her grip on the journal is so tight that her knuckles are white.

The Chalice looks over at Lucretia. The whole time he was scanning through her memories, his face had been blank, dispassionate. But now, for the first time, he's looking at her with compassion and understanding in his eyes.

“This was the moment, right? The moment you changed everything.”

Lucretia nods. She remembers the feeling of this moment: like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, getting ready to jump. The terror of it, and the possibility.

She looks at her past self, standing at Fisher’s tank clutching the journal in her hands. Gods, she forgot how young she used to look. Her face is lit by the glow of the tank, her lips pressed tight together and eyes shining. There’s fear there, but there’s also hope—hope that this will be worth it, that she will be able to help her family be happy again. Hope that she will be able to fix everything.

She’s not sure when that hope transformed into a need; when the belief that her plan would work morphed from a quiet determination to a desperate desire, a story she told herself because to believe otherwise would break her.

Would she still have that hope, if she had made a different choice?

You can change it," the Chalice says. "Everything you just saw. All that pain you caused them. It doesn't have to go that way."

Lucretia looks at the frozen memory of herself, a version of her that thought she knew the cost of what she was doing. Who had no idea what loneliness and heartbreak she held in her hands.

What would it mean, if she had the chance to try again?

She could talk to the others about her plan, try to get them on board. She could still go through with the redaction, but she could make sure her family were inoculated first. The worst thing, the hardest thing, about what she’s done has been seeing what it did to the others. Seeing the sharp, cold person Taako’s become without Lup; the way that Davenport’s been left a shell of himself. Knowing that Barry is out there somewhere, alone and angry and afraid. The fact that the lives that she built for them fell apart one by one, and she could only watch.

She could save them that pain, if she changed this moment.

Everything she just had to watch, everything they've lost, everything they've suffered because of her.

She could fix it.

She could—

Could she?

The last time she tried to fix everything with one big decision, she ended up here.

If she did this, what new pains would come instead—what unintended consequences would such a choice unleash? If there’s anything she’s learned in the past decade, it’s that she can never fully predict the effects of her decisions, no matter how hard she tries. What if this decision only leads to new regrets?

Lucretia drops her head in her hands, all her desires and wishes and hopes warring inside her with a dreadful fear at what other hurts she might inadvertently cause.

The price of using any relic is so high; she's not even sure what exactly the price of this one would be. She has spent the last ten years working so hard to keep others from using them, to collect them so that she can cast her barrier and stop the Hunger once and for all. Would she really sacrifice all that to fix this one mistake?

She wants to say she would. She wants to say that if she knew she could spare her family pain, she would sacrifice everything else she’s done. But when she asks the question bluntly, the same answer that has gotten her through the last ten years comes up.

She did what she did for a reason. It cost them all so much more than she ever thought it would. But she’s not sure what else would be lost, if she tried to change this moment—and there is too much at stake for her to risk getting it wrong again.

No. She can't fix it. Not this way.

Lucretia lowers her hands, slowly, and shakes her head.

“I made my choice,” she says. “It hasn’t turned out exactly like I thought it would, but...I did what I had to do. I have to see it through.”

She lets her hands fall to her sides, staring at the still-frozen form of her past self. That's it, then. She should feel proud of herself, she supposes, for resisting the Chalice’s thrall. But instead she just feels empty.

She looks up at the Chalice, expecting him to be angry, or frustrated, or at least disappointed. This was his last big play, after all. The temptation of Lucretia.

But the Chalice only smiles, and she hates the way that smile looks on Magnus’s face, all condescension and smug knowing.

“I thought you might say that,” he says. “You’re nothing if not stubborn."

What?

She had thought she knew what was happening here: a temptation, an offer that the Chalice hoped she would take and that she would have to resist, and if she did, then she would win. If that's not what this was--reliving those memories was bad enough, but to do it for no purpose?

Lucretia does her best to hide her confusion, to let only anger show in her voice. "Why did you show this to me if you knew I wouldn't change it?"

He shrugs. "It was worth a try. You might have surprised me. And it's important that you saw this first."

"What do you mean?" She doesn't like the sound of first. "I thought we were done."

“Not quite," the Chalice says. "There’s one other moment I want to show you."

The images around them are already blurring again, the vision of her standing in front of Fisher’s tank disappearing into flashes of color and memory. Lucretia braces herself for another onslaught, but it's only a few seconds before the blur slows, and when it stops, they are once again standing in her quarters on the Starblaster. It’s nighttime, the room lit only by a candle on her desk, and the glow from Fisher’s tank.

The younger version of her sits at the desk, her head leaning on one hand, the other hand twirling and pulling at a loose curl. She's reading one of her journals. Two more journals sit to one side on the desk, and there is a pile of several more at her feet. The young Lucretia’s leg is jiggling, and her hand pulls on her hair hard enough to hurt. Her posture might seem relaxed, but present Lucretia can feel her anxiety.

Her heart sinks. She remembers this night. It was the night after Lup had told them about the gauntlet’s latest death toll in Cordelia—and one of the first nights she really thought about what it would take, to use Fisher to erase the relics. She remembers the weariness on Lup’s face, the despair at what these things they’d made were doing to the world. How much she wanted to wipe that weariness away, how she’d thought that there had to be a way to fix it. She had sat up late into the night, a growing pile of journals surrounding her as she read through her records of the last year, and then further and further back into the century. Eventually she had fallen asleep at her desk, her head pillowed on an open journal, her mind spinning with questions—whether such a plan would work; whether it was worth it.

The next morning, they had found Lup’s note on the kitchen table.

"You think about this night a lot," the Chalice says. "The last night you were all together."

He walks over to the desk, looking down at the memory of her, and Lucretia resists the urge to step between them, to protect her younger self from the future looming over her.

“You didn’t know it at the time, but you were awake, when Lup left,” he continues. “She waited until she thought everyone would be asleep, and then she left her note on the table, and she slipped away. She thought she would only be gone a few days.

“And while she did that you were sitting at your desk, reading, thinking it might be time to take a break soon, but not ready to put down your work just yet."

Past Lucretia turns a page and sighs. Even more than the last version of her, Lucretia thinks, she has no idea what's coming.

"You never did end up taking a break, that night. And by morning she was gone.”

The scene shifts, and suddenly it’s like they’re standing inside the wall between her old room and the corridor outside. She can still see herself, sitting at her desk. But she can also see a figure in a hooded red robe making her way along the hall, her footfalls carefully soft. The scene freezes just as Lup passes Lucretia's door.

“Right now, in this moment, she’s walking past your room on her way to the kitchen. If you get up now, you’ll run into her, and you’ll be able to talk.”

Lucretia stares, frozen, at her younger self, at the cloaked figure of Lup outside the door. She had been right there. She had been so close. She never even thought—

What would have happened, if she and Lup had talked before Lup left?

If she had told Lup what she was thinking, of her plan to use Fisher to stop the war?

If she had asked Lup for help, tried to get her to stay?

What would have happened to them all, if they hadn’t lost Lup?

Suddenly, all her earlier firm resolve dissipates like mist. Lucretia looks at the figure silhouetted in the dim light of the corridor, and her heart aches and her stomach clenches with longing.

Lup.

It shouldn't change anything. All her arguments from before still stand.

She doesn’t know what consequences such a change would have.

She’d be sacrificing everything she’s done, everything she’s worked for the past ten years.

The price of using a relic is still so very high.

But Lup.

There’s a sudden, gentle touch on the back of her wrist. She startles, but this time she does not pull away as the Chalice takes her hand in his. His fingers are rough and calloused, the exact feel of Magnus’s hands, and the sensation brings tears to her eyes. It’s been so long since she’s felt anything like this.

“You can save us, Luce,” the Chalice says—Magnus says. “You know we fell apart, after Lup left. You can stop it. You can persuade her to stay, and we can find some other way to stop the war. Together.”

"Don't say us," she says, but there is no fire in it. She can see it, the future he describes. She can see it so clearly.

"Please, Lucretia." His eyes meet hers with such an earnest look. "You can save her."

And despite herself, despite all her caution and well-honed arguments, Lucretia can feel herself faltering.

When he made his first offer, she had been able to push her own desires aside. However much she might want to change what has happened since the redaction, she knows she did what she did for a reason, and she is too practiced at setting aside her guilt to let it sway her.

But this. This is different.

Lup's disappearance had no reason behind it, no purpose. She might have left with an intention in mind, but Lucretia is certain her not coming back was not part of any plan.

And now, she's being given the chance to make it right.

If she can keep Lup from leaving, then Barry will never have to waste away on a fruitless search, Taako will never be reduced to moving through the ship like a ghost, half empty. If she can talk to her, maybe they can keep their family together, keep them from falling into that place where the redaction felt like the only option. With Lup still with them, maybe the Chalice is right—maybe they can find another way to save the world.

There will be a price to pay. She knows this. The stakes are just as high as before, the uncertainty in some ways even higher. But by now she is used to calculating the costs of her decisions, and the prices she has to pay herself are always the easiest to bear.

And to save Lup? To bring her back? She's willing to pay just about anything.

Lucretia looks up at the Chalice, and though she knows he is not Magnus, he is so like him that just for this moment, she can pretend that there is nothing else lurking behind his earnest expression. She takes both of the Chalice's callused hands in hers, and she looks him dead in the eye, and she makes her choice.

"What do I have to do?”

#taz balance #taz lucretia #taz fanfic #taz #taz au #temporal chalice #grand relics #there's more to explore here in terms of alternate timelines #and maybe i'll do it someday #but time manipulation is Complicated and makes my head hurt D:#scribblings #long post #taz balance spoilers

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raineydaywrites · 3 years

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take the big hits

ao3 link in the source!

Summary: Febuwhump day 5: "Take me instead."

There was a reason that Magnus had, thus far, at least, died the most often out of everyone on the ship.

He could take a lot of damage that the rest of them couldn't handle as easily, but he certainly wasn't indestructible. And the knowledge that he would wake up at the start of the next cycle if he died really only made his self-sacrificial tendencies even worse.

There was a reason that Magnus had, thus far, at least, died the most often out of everyone on the ship.

And the rest of the crew was sick of it.

They loved Magnus, and hated when he was gone. They didn't like to see him suffering or hurt, and it was starting to seem like he was going to get badly injured or killed every cycle.

They'd lost Magnus early last cycle, when they'd been ambushed by a group of people from a region other than the one they'd found the Light in. They'd communicated with the leaders of the region where they found the Light, and gotten an agreement to bring it back to the Starblaster, but apparently that information had gotten leaked somehow, and it turned out that the other regions didn't feel that they should be left out of that decision.

It would have been easier to communicate with the other region earlier and explain their reasoning for taking the Light, but instead they'd had a tense stand off between the crew and the plane's natives.

Eventually, they managed to convince the natives that it was in the best interest of everyone for them to take the Light back to the Starblaster, but the natives had groused at the idea of losing out on the knowledge they could gain from the Light.

When it had started to look as though they might decide to attack and keep the Light for themselves despite everything, Magnus had intervened.

See, the thing about Magnus is that he understands people. He's a charmer and he likes to be social and he worries about everyone. And a large part of that empathy and extroversion comes from understanding what people want and what they've been through. What motivates them.

He figured out what motivated the natives and offered it to them before any of the rest of them could protest.

"Take me instead," he'd offered, to the confusion of the other crew members. Why would the natives want Magnus?

But the fact of the matter was that the natives weren't fools. They understood that something unusual was happening, and they were unwilling to risk the idea that the IPRE crew were lying about the importance of the Light leaving this plane.

They didn't really want to keep the Light itself after that. They just wanted something to sweeten the pot before they let the rest of them go.

And the chance to study a real live alien was a sufficient sweetener to these scientifically minded monsters.

When they'd understood Mangus' offer, the crew protested, of course, but they were not standing in a safe spot. And the longer they argued, the more they risked the lives of the rest of them, and the opportunity to bring the Light back to the ship and escape at the end of the year.

In the end, Captain Davenport made the call to retreat. It broke his heart to leave Magnus to the devices of these beings, but it wasn't worst the risk that they would decide not to believe them about the Light, or to decide to look for a different way to preserve their world from the Hunger that didn't require the crew of the Starblaster.

They'd communicated with the leaders of the region they'd found the Light in, hoping for help in retrieving Magnus, which they did receive, but by the time they worked through all the legalities and diplomatic necessities, he'd already been killed.

There was nothing to do but grieve and wait for the next cycle to begin.

Magnus was greeted with a round of very enthusiastic hugs when he reformed.

"Hi guys!" he said, smiling brightly at the rest of them. It had been a rough cycle from his perspective, and he was so glad to see his family and to be out of that situation.

He was a little concerned about how upset and angry everyone looked past their enthusiasm at seeing him again.

Lucretia was clinging tightly to his side, so he leaned down to her and spoke.

"What's wrong?"

Lucretia gave him a shocked look, and said nothing, glancing around to the rest of the crew as if asking what she was supposed to say to that.

"You fuckin' left us, is what's wrong!" Taako said, extricating himself from the hug to punch Magnus in the shoulder. Even after getting out of the hug, though, he didn't go far, hovering nearby but safely out of hug range.

"I- I had to do something. I knew I'd be okay," Magnus said, uncertain why they were all taking this so badly. Sure, it had sucked, but he'd gotten through it. And everything was fine now.

"You didn't have to do that. We could have found another solution," Captain Davenport said, sternly, but Magnus could see that he was worried behind it. He'd participated in the group hug for even less time than Taako, but that was okay. They were still working on getting him to let go of his shell of professionalism, and it had made Magnus happy that he'd joined the hug at all.

"I know it wasn't the best plan, but we didn't have a lot of time to find a better one," Magnus argued, a tiny bit annoyed at the stern tone that he was being met with. "I knew the risks and I was willing to take them."

"You can't just throw yourself in danger without even telling us what you're thinking," Davenport admonished.

"I'm the security officer. It's my job to do that," Magnus retorted, and now the hug was starting to break up in light of the argument. Magnus missed it, but he was too upset to let go of the fight. He knew that he was young for this position, and that everyone else on the crew save Lucretia was years and years older than him, but that didn't mean that they could treat him like a child.

"What kind of security officer leaves a bunch of magic users to defend ourselves for a year, huh?" Taako said. "Not a very good one."

Magnus felt a little taken aback by the words, and shrunk in on himself a little.

"I have to protect you guys," he said. "I don't try to die early, but sometimes-"

"You don't always get a choice, I get that," Lup interjected, "but Taako has a point. You want to protect us, but you can't do that when you get yourself killed and leave us without you."

"And you had a choice this time, buddy," Barry said, softly. "You offered to go with them, even though you knew what would happen."

"You guys don't need me that much," Magnus argued. "I'm good and everything, but you have offensive spells. And Merle and Barry can fight alright, if they gotta."

"Of course we need you Magnus! We need everyone. But we also just like you and like having you around," Lup said. "You're a lot of fun, big guy."

"But I'm not as important as the rest of you," Magnus said.

Everyone else stilled, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"What's that supposed to mean, bud?" Merle asked, his tone as careful as he was capable of.

"I can't help with the engine or studying the Light or the science stuff. But I can protect people. That's the- I mean, I'm good at other stuff yeah, but that's the thing that's relevant to the mission. The rest of you- I mean, like I said, Merle and Barry can fight, but Merle is a healer too, and Barry knows the engine and the science. Nobody else can take over those jobs as easily as they can take over mine," Magnus explained. It seemed pretty obvious to him. He wasn't trying to be self-deprecating or anything, it was just about the relevance of their individual skill sets. His skills were largely less useful than the rest of them.

"Magnus-" Merle said, in a extremely soft tone, but he couldn't seem to figure out what to say and he stopped talking.

No one else really seemed to know either, and the room went very quiet, until Lucretia broke the silence.

"What about me? I'm just the chronicler, and there's no one to record the mission for anymore. I'm even less useful than you. Should I start sacrificing myself at the drop of a hat?" she asked.

"No!" Magnus said, horrified that she'd even ask it. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then why is it okay for you?" Lucretia demanded.

"It's my job-" Magnus started.

"No, it isn't. Your job description does not ask you to get killed for us," Davenport said, body tense and tail twitching angrily.

"Security officers do accept certain risks, though! And this mission has even more of them than more security jobs!" Magnus said.

"This mission has gone completely ass-over-tea-kettle, my dude. I don't think your job title really matters that much anymore," Taako said.

"But my job still does! You guys do!" Magnus responded. They had to understand. He wasn't trying to be reckless, just practical.

"So do you," Barry said. "We missed you."

"We aren't asking you to stop doing your job, Magnus. We just want you to be more careful," Davenport said, stepping closer and giving Magnus a quick hug. "Please take care of yourself too."

Magnus melted into the embrace, and, seeing the reaction, the rest of them rejoined the hug, even Taako, offering whatever comfort they could.

"Last cycle was some real bad shit, guys," Magnus finally said, quietly. "Did not like it. Do not recommend."

"It's okay, buddy. You're safe now," Merle offered.

Magnus let himself drop to the floor, and the rest of them followed. He let himself think about all the awful shit he'd been going through, and he didn't try to stop the tears that fell after that.

Surrounded by his family, he let himself break. He was safe. He was loved. It was going to be okay.

#taz balance #magnus burnsides #ipre crew #febuwhump #febuwhumpday5 #my writing

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marsdave · 4 years

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Capitalism is the bad guy: a TAZ Graduation prediction/analysis

Still super sleepy but I made a promise so here's my analysis of the economic history of TAZ Graduation I guess. Again, there are only two episodes out so there is a large chance that most of this essay is going to be, in a word, wrong. However, I've got a lot of things to say about what's already been set up in the first two episodes and trailer for TAZ Graduation.

For the purposes of ease, I'm going to be focusing mainly on Balance and Graduation because they take place in similar universes. Amnesty is a little more down to earth because it, you know, takes place on earth. Amnesty's focus on money is minimal and its economic system is, well... ours (Or at least the USA's, I'm not actually sure where you live, but I understand that a lot of economic discussions on tumblr are very USA-centric, and not every TAZ fan is American)

In any case, I'm much more interested in the fictional societies of Faerun and... the world of Wiggenstaff's (Wiggenworld?)

The economic impacts of anything have been largely ignored in Balance. Off the top of my head, I can remember Goldcliff being a prosperous city, Taako's gold-stealing habit, fantasy costco, and Lup's 15 dollar bill (which, by the way I am writing a musical about, check it out if you want), as examples of money playing any role in TAZ Balance.

While hilarious, the moments of bargaining for items in the Fantasy Costco in Balance aren't monetarily accurate by earth standards, you dont haggle at a Costco, they price their items that way for a reason. A magically multiplying 15 dollar bill would cause mass amounts of inflation, especially in the hands of a crime boss like Greg F. Grimaldis and used to create cash reserves in a casino. There is a reason that printing money is illegal.

Balance's relationship with money isn't really a relationship at all, it's an acquaintance-ship. It's friends-with-benefits, except the benefits are goofs. It's the relationship that the class clown has with an easy-to make-fun-of-kid. In TAZ Balance, money is a joke. And that works!

Money doesn't play a huge role in Balance because it doesnt have to! Hell, that works in its favor! The main ideas explored in balance are People, Love, Choosing Joy, and The Unbreakable Bonds Of Chosen Family, if money was inserted into that equation, Balance would be way less impactful.

This ties into what I mean by "ultimate evil". The ultimate evil of Balance was not The Hunger, it was forgetting those you love. The ultimate evil of Amnesty was not the Aliens or The Quell, it was ignorance. The strength of the adventure zone is it's ability to create big, spectacular epics that are still ultimately character driven, and that comes from how it pairs its strong external conflicts (Hey guys, let's fight this sentient storm) with equally strong internal conflicts (Hey guys, let's build a beautiful found family). The Big Evil is the external, the ultimate evil is the internal.

Now let's talk about Graduation.

Graduation takes place in a pseudo-college setting. Maybe it's just me, but college immediately reminds me of money, it's just an instant association. (Again, I'd like to acknowledge that this is coming from a U.S. pov and for me, the link between money and college is tens, sometimes hundreds of thousands of dollars on tuition and financially crippling student loans. I know).

Here are some other money-related elements of TAZ Graduation in the FIRST TWO EPISODES:

Argo's financial situation

The commune that [Redacted] comes from

The high reliance on/hero worship of accountants and accounting

The organization that can forcibly retire the heroes and villains of Wiggenworld when their costs outweigh their benefits

Travis McElroy essentially gave us Wiggenworld's economic history on a silver platter. It started out with unfettered, unregulated capitalism, which resulted in wars and a minority of people recklessly wasting the majority of Wiggenworld's resources. Then something really interesting happened.

The economy was regulated, but not by the government, by the people themselves, more specifically, the fantasy accountants. This is what I'm going to call the Rise Of Accounting.

After that, and the Hero/Villain industry rose to fill the void that the entertainment of the wars left.

So in my previous post, I alluded to the fact that capitalism would be the ultimate evil this season. That's not exactly what I meant. The real ultimate evil will be The Commodification of Individuals.

Heroes and villains are not treated as people in this universe, they're companies. Hell, you could even say that they're products. Once they cost more money than they earn, they're forcibly retired, unable to find another job as a hero/villain and at most institutions, barred from teaching.

This is a double edged sword, because besides robbing heroes/villains of their humanity, it forces them to walk the ever-thinning line between "interesting and new enough to keep people coming back and turn a profit" and "safe and careful enough not to cost their patron town too much" and if they falter (which they eventually will, because no hero/villain can stay both safe and interesting forever) then the failure is pinned on them rather than the broken system. There's also the matter of how sidekicks/henchpeople are treated compared to heroes/villains, but that's a whole different post.

The hero/villain occupation is an unsustainable one by design, it's a dangerous and temporary job, but hey, it pays well, and that's what it's all about in a capitalist system.

So yeah, with the way things are set up, this season is inextricable from the concept of money (and honestly kudos to Travis McElroy for setting it up so perfectly and concisely in these two episodes), and I can't wait to see what happens next.

#capitalism #socialism #economics #taz #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #the adventure zone amnesty #the adventure zone graduation #taz balance #taz amnesty #taz graduation #long post #taz graduation spoilers #taz argo #taz fitzroy #taz bud #taz [redacted]#taz garfield #petals to the metal

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