#deconstruction fantasy

[hallowgracie]

Origin of "Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl"

Author's Note: The Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl started as a short story opening assignment in my creative writing classes. Like the other creative writing projects that grew beyond their original parameters, the novella in the works is almost completely different from this original concept.

Still, I think it's been fun to share them, and these do establish some of the themes and ideas I intend to explore in the actual novella, and are ultimately the core of the project. I hope you enjoy this insight into the origins of one of my wips.

...

No one ever tells you what happens next, when you defeat the Big Evil. Everyone has opinions up to that point, and no problems telling you what they think you should be doing. But once the deed is done, the sword plunged through the heart and the world free of some meglomaniac in a cape? That’s when the quiet comes in.

It first came with her last breath, when she went still under the holy blade. My ears rang, and I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat. It came with the end of spells ricocheting off of the lair’s walls, the breaking of glass and the crackling of fire. Even the screams in the city stopped, with the final wave of my wand.

Even he was quiet, I realized as I’d turned my back to what I’d done, to the broken skyscraper window over the city I’d saved. My knight in shining armor, my one true companion in this, the one who always had some terrible joke or witty passive-aggressive comment to keep us from really thinking about what we were doing—he was silent.

He just stood there like that, looking at me.

I looked down at myself—the mythic incarnation of evil or whatever didn’t leave any blood stains on my gloves or glittery magical girl gown. But I couldn’t shake the feeling, the illusion of it being there all the same.

I should have said something then. Some cheesy line, like we were in a kids’ cartoon or a Disney movie or my favorite manga.

“It’s done, it’s over. We did it, my love—let’s go home.”

But I was never the smooth-talker, the speech-giver. Unfortunately, he was. And even he was at a loss for words.

Well, I’d never been the protagonist-y type, and I wasn’t going to start then.

So I just kicked the ground and said, “I guess that’s it, then.”

Before he could say anything, I waved my wand. In a shower of pink petals and a tween girl’s idea of the best perfume, I was back in my own apartment.

And the quiet washed over me again, leaving me with only my own thoughts and that steady, faithful heartbeat.

The morning after I’d completed the mission I’d sacrificed my teen and tween years for, I decided to get a scrapbooking kit. 

...

The decision was made at 4 AM, when I’d finally had enough. I knew then that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and this couldn’t happen again. So I did the only thing I could—I got up and started my morning routine to bide my time until the craft store two stops from the apartment opened for the day. 

I started with brewing a pot of extra-strong coffee. I made sure there was enough for my roommate—it would only be a few hours before Gwen would be up for her 8 AM class. Then it was time to hit the shower. I winced as I felt the hot water hit the parts of my body stained black and blue, hissing when it rushed over the cuts. I’d never gotten entirely used to it, after so many mornings of the same. I dabbled concealer over my under eye-bags and scar with all the artistry that eight years of practice provided.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Gwen was waiting for me. 

“What are you doing up so early?” She demanded, a mug of pitch-black coffee in her hand. 

“I’m taking the T down to the craft store.” I shrugged. “It opens at like, six, right?”

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs. “You’ve finally lost it. You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that ever since I moved in.”

“Yeah, because you talk to yourself in squeaky voices, it’s demented,” she shot back. 

I winced. “I didn’t know you could hear that.”

“Obviously.” She sipped her coffee. “How do you do that, by the way? That voice is super grating.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted. I’d long thought that Dwija’s voice was annoying. Or at least, ever since I passed puberty. 

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. “It’s a talent, I guess.”

“It’s something,” Gwen muttered. “Well, wait for me, then.”

“Huh?” I adjusted a barrette in my hair, as it had been slowly sliding out over the course of our brief conversation. 

“Well, I’m not letting you go out like this alone,” she huffed. “After all, what if you snap and lose it on the T?”

It was my turn for raised eyebrows. “Talking to myself in silly voices and morning crafting impulses does not a serial killer make.”

“Whatever, just stay there until I’m at least decent enough for the T.” Gwen waved her miraculously already-empty coffee cup at me. 

“Okay.” I’d long learned not to fight my roommate on certain things. 

It somehow surprised me to see the sun still rose when we left the underground station. First, because I didn’t realize it was already doing it this early again. But also because it felt too normal, after all that had happened the night before. 

It shouldn’t have surprised me, that the world would go on turning like nothing ever happened. As far as anyone was concerned, nothing ever happened when it came to the magical girl. Lumina was a curiosity, a source of excitement, a local celebrity who rode on parade floats during St. Patrick’s Day. But everyone was careful to treat her as never truly real. That way, the threats she faced weren’t either. 

Because that would mean opening your mind up to a host of phenomena beyond heaven or earth, or whatever it was that Hamlet said to Horatio.

Which leads me back to scrapbooking. 

“I still don’t understand.” Gwen tilted her head as she followed me down the scrapbooking aisle. “What made you decide at four in the morning that you wanted to take up scrapbooking, of all things?”

I shrugged and filled my basket with scrapbook papers, stickers, and textured ribbons. “I just felt like doing something new.”

“But you’re always so busy!” She followed me to the end-cap, where discounted scrapbooks lay in a hastily-thrown together heap. “You never had time for anything but studying!”

I just scooped up a book and headed toward the cash register. “I’ve got some free time now. Might as well keep my mind occupied.”

It was better than facing the silence. 

Yet it was in silence that the cashier scanned the items. It wasn’t until we were walking out of the craft shop that Gwen spoke again.

“You’re going out with me on Friday night.” There was no room for argument. 

I still was going to try, until I was interrupted by the chime of my phone. Not the iPhone in my right pocket. 

“Go on ahead, I have to take this.”

She gave me a funny look, but continued down underground, apparently satisfied that I was only partially out of my mind. I waited until she was gone. Then I removed from my left pocket the pink shell of a cellphone from a prior era. 

It was a rounded device with bright buttons and glitter inlaid in the surface, the smaller screen like an obsidian mirror. It made chiming, musical noises that brought on a sense of nostalgia and alienness at the same time. I knew it wasn’t really a cellphone, but rather the gadget of the realm parallel our own, the main tool of Lumina. 

Iridescent runes appeared across the black mirror screen. 

My stomach sank. I knew the name, even if I’d never come to understand their language. 

Altalune.

I knew what he wanted. A part of me wanted to reach out, to hear his voice again, because I wanted it too. But that would be a moment of weakness. One that I couldn’t afford, and I was now realizing I never would. I slipped it back in my pocket. 

Sorry. 

...

The possibilities of the evening stretched endlessly before me. I was twelve years old, the last time I had freedom like this. No responsibilities, no immediate homework, no need to remove the cellphone from my left pocket and transform into the champion of the Lost Realm, the imitation of a warrior princess of long ago. 

Instead of high heels and a fluffy dress, it was booty shorts and flip-flops for me. My scrapbook lay open on the desktop, all my newfound supplies scattered around so I could see them. The sky was the limit, and my blood hummed at the idea of creating something. 

It would be an awesome scrapbook, a work of art as an autobiography. 

Now all I had to do was make it. 

Well, to start it off, I’d need to ask Mom for the hospital photos and a picture of the old little house where the first formative years of my childhood were spent. Then there would be elementary school pictures from Field Day and pool parties and the Natural Science Museum field trips. 

But what about after that?

There were less photographs of me at my parents’ house around middle school. Beyond a few sleepovers and vacations and every year’s school picture, there was little to have documented. I didn’t have time for clubs, or birthday parties. My friendships never lasted long, always cut off in fear of them discovering my secrets, getting too close. 

It was around high school when only the yearbook photos were left, when I pushed my parents away too. 

There were plenty of pictures of Lumina over the years. 

But this wasn’t about her. Or at least, I didn’t want it to be. But she had taken over my life, I was realizing as I stared down the blank pages. She’d come into my life and stolen several years, and for what? 

To avenge a kingdom I never knew? For the defeat of a primeval evil that still wouldn’t stop simple human greed and malice? 

How much of my life have I wasted?

Before I could have my mental breakdown in peace, a light pierced the warm darkness of my room, scattering sparks of glitter all over the paper. As the light faded, the shape of a rounded cat-like creature floated over my desk.

  I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Dwija?”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” I couldn’t help but wince as her high-pitched, tinny voice. “Dwija just wants to make sure you’re alright!”

I sighed. Getting mad at the little cat fey from the Lost Realm was like getting mad at a child. For all that she might be the reason I was in this mess, and how she’d conveniently left out a lot of things over the years, she was extremely sensitive. And she meant well. That still counted for something, even after all this time. 

“I’m as okay as I can be.” I pulled out the cellphone. “Are you back here looking for this?”

Dwija blinked at me, her eyes as big and shiny as a new Beanie Baby’s. “Dwija meant what Dwija said all those years ago. You used to be Princess Lumina, back in the Lost Realm. It belongs to you, even after the mission is done.”

“Fine.” I tossed it onto my desk—I didn’t care if it broke now. 

Dwija winced, even though it was fine. That thing had survived falling to the street at a height that would kill a person and then getting run over by a bus. A little tossing and throwing wasn’t going to be what did it in. 

“You’re not okay, are you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale. “Sorry. But really, what was your first clue?”

Dwija tilted her head. “Dwija didn’t mean to make you angry. Dwija thought you would be really happy now! Delmore is defeated and the evil from the Lost Realm has been destroyed, meaning she has no hold over this world anymore.”

“The Lost Realm is still destroyed,” I reminded her. “Or at least, that’s what you told me. And it’s not like I can remember being Princess Lumina anyway. So who cares?”

“But Delmore was affecting your realm, forcing men to do bad things!” Dwija’s voice inched up an octave. “Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care that she was going to destroy this realm too?”

My stomach squirmed. “I guess I do. You didn’t tell me it would only end with me killing her, though.”

“Dwija doesn’t think of it as killing a person,” Dwija said. “Delmore wasn’t really a person, she was the incarnation of all the evil in peoples’s hearts in the Lost Realm. She was never really alive and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“That’s the thing.” I was surprised at how soft and hoarse my own voice was. “She was still a person, on some level. And I wanted to stop her—but I never wanted to kill her. I never would have agreed to it, if that was the end.”

“Then Dwija is glad that Dwija never explained it.” Dwija’s tail flicked. It started to swish, casting magenta glitter all over my desk. “You had to do it to save this world and many others. Dwija is sorry that no one from the Old World will be able to remember it. But you can still have lots of fun and adventures now!”

She shifted position midair and took on a less chiding tone. “Besides, Dwija would have thought that you would be looking forward to seeing Altalune now.”

[vfx-batman]

Considering every attempt at bringing Jason Todd back as a villain (Dixon’s AU attempt in ‘96, Loeb’s Hush attempt in ‘03, + Winick’s successful UTH attempt in ‘04-5) was predicated on retconning Jaybin into someone that he wasn’t, I actually don’t think you can remove Red Hood from the discussion of how DC write Jason as a child. You can prefer one over the other if you want, but Red Hood + all his problems only exist because DC needed to villainise Jason Todd somewhere along his character history to prove that Jaybin’s death was a net positive.

The second Robin receiving an embryonic Red Hood-ification in Cheer, Robin Lives + apparently Lemire’s Robin + Batman was the whole point of Jason coming back as a Bad Guy to begin with. And at a stroke, it returns us to Marv Wolfman + Dixon’s classist victim-blaming narrative. And to their intended goal — to blatantly overwrite Jason Todd’s actual character with stereotypes to preserve the Batman + Robin power fantasy.

[nekrotikon]

hey, you! yes, you! do you like:

john milton’s paradise lost (or the band paradise lost. c’mon please anyone)

dante’s inferno

queer romance

romance that turns into tragedy

angels

when people know deep in their soul that lucifer and michael are so so fruity

so much flower symbolism

dealing with the knowledge that the weight of your actions will devour you until the end of days

GAY angels

then boy do i have the story for you!

i'm c.o. lopez, a queer disabled ND white/filipino writer working on a queer retelling of the devil’s tragedy called Sons of God.

lucifer is the oldest angel, tasked by a distant god with rearing all angels born after him, including the second-born michael.

as heaven develops at their feet and more angels are born, the pair grow closer, but the growing roles given to lucifer by the absent father and michael’s search for his identity, along with lucifer’s questioning of the lord and michael’s devotion, begin to drive them apart.

above it all, the lord sits on his lotus throne, watching and waiting in silence.

content warnings: along with graphic violence and sexual content, this book contains depictions of blasphemy, mental instability, psychosis, graphic self-harm, and emotional neglect. all of the angels also refer to each other as ‘brother’, including those in relationships. these warnings are currently subject to change, so make sure to check them every so often! and please if you're a minor, don't interact; you will be blocked. this blog isn't a space for you.

below are some tags that'll be used a lot (for more, look at my featured tags!):

sons of god: a general catch-all for book-related things; any tags below besides no-soggy-waffles will inherently include this

no soggy waffles: non-writing stuff, ex. paintings, cats, memes, w/e

soggy draft: any writing snippets up until being finished

soggy shitposts: memes about SOG

soggy asks: writing-related asks

soggy art: any drawings

sog [character name] will be used for any posts about specific characters, ex. 'sog lucifer' or 'sog asmodeus'

i hope you'll join me on this journey of gay angels and god sucking and saying screw you to catholicism!

also: mutuals who don't already have it can ask for my discord! i'm pretty regularly not on tumblr so if you want to hit me up outside of here, just ask :))

[mythalism]

hmmm. thinking about how veilguard seems to subscribe more to the more traditional "video game as personal power fulfillment fantasy of heroism" than any other dragon age game, except perhaps origins, though origins does it more artfully.

[hycinthrt]

enchanted (2007) was all that wish wanted to be in regards of being a tribute to the disney animated legacy

[paintsplash1712]

Look, I love Studio Ghibli's Howl's Moving Castle. Its one of my favourite of their movies!

But if it got announced that another studio was adapting the story into an animated movie more based on the book, I'd buy my tickets immediately!

[lil-gremlin-gal]

Buddy Dawn is who junior year Kristen Applebees would be without Tracker and the rest of the bad kids

My heart...

[anthurak]

“I can handle this one. You know, if you’re not up to it.”

I feel like there’s something INTERESTING about the framing and demeanor of Loona here.

First there is the fact that Loona is volunteering to go slaughter a sweet, innocent, picturesque family. A family that Blitzo even starts seeing himself, Stolas and their daughters in.

But also the fact that Loona isn’t completely oblivious to Blitzo’s discomfort here like you might normally expect in a scene like this. You know, like how Blitzo was completely oblivious and even belittling of Moxxie’s discomfort back in Murder Family.

Indeed, Loona seems PARTICULARLY aware of and tuned into Blitzo’s discomfort and is offering to spare him that. Like she gets that murdering this family is pretty messed up and uncomfortable for Blitzo.

Which I feel really gives this interaction the vibe of something we might see in a very grim horror or war story where a character has to do something very dark and reprehensible, like murdering an innocent family, only for one of their friends/comrades to sympathetically offer to do it themself and spare that character the horror. Sometimes because the friend/comrade has done similarly dark things themselves in the past. A very ‘let me pull the trigger and spare you the guilt’ moment.

Maybe this is more because of the posts I’ve recently done on Loona’s fucked-up backstory, but I can’t help but wonder if this might be HINTING at said fucked-up-backstory.

As in, is this Loona basically going ‘I know this is fucked up because I’ve done this before’…?

[adarkrainbow]

I am currently re-reading "The Black Company" by Glen Cook, the first trilogy which I love immensely (I haven't looked at the later trilogies and series).

If you do not know what "The Black Company" is, it is a series of novels started in the 80s that formed, alongside older works like "The Elric Saga", the foundations of the genre we know today as "dark fantasy". And "The Black Company" is one of the specific highlights of the dark fantasy sub-genre that later inspired authors to create what we call the "grimdark fantasy" (though I personally put The Black Company in "dark fantasy" rather than the "grimdark" genre, even though it was a big inspiration for the grimdark).

I love The Black Company. But, I hear you ask, why am I speaking of this onto my fairytale blog? Well... you guessed it: The Black Company is actually a fairytale fantasy. It is not something that is talked about often, nor something that was very much highlighted outside of some trivias, but despite The Black Company seeming like a dark deconstruction of the early Tolkienesque fantasy (which it is), it is also... a deconstruction of fairytales.

Here is a list of points showing the fairytale influence over Glen Cook's work, from the broadest and vaguest to the most specific. WARNING there are BIG SPOILERS ahead for the original trilogy.

From the get-go, names are rare in "The Black Company". As in, personal names. This is one of the most famous features of this series: almost all of the main characters go by nicknames or aliases, and the rest are left anonymous. From the members of the Black Company who abandon their life behind, to the sorcerers who keep their true name secrets, we are following the adventures of "Croaker", "Captain", "Raven", "The Lady", "The Hanged Man", "One-Eye", "Darling", and others. Add to this the sparse and succint physical descriptions, and the fact the past of most of the characters stays mysterious, foggy and untold - the narrative focusing mainly on their actions and their words - and you have a form of archetypal storytelling making the characters seem like they came out straight of a folktale (which is ironic as the story is precisely about introducing gritty realism to an universe of fantasy).

By extensive, the very narrative style of the books (mainly the parts written by Croaker for the Annals) is reminiscent of the way fairytales a la brothers Grimm were told. A very focused, quasi-oral narrative flow filled with ellipses and allusions, mixing direct descriptions with narrator thoughts, spending a lot of time over some trivial things while telling in two sentences huge events, slowly revealing things or explaining elements in a disjointed and broken way...

Still on the same vibe, the magic system (or rather the lack-of) was clearly meant to recreate the effet of magic in fairytales, and legends and myths in general. Unlike other fantasy works where magic is explained or has given rules and conditions, magic here stays a mysterious art only truly understood by its wielders. We are given some rules and elements, we know the power levels of some characters, but magic stays a mysterious force whose effects, while obvious, grandiose and visible, are unclear in their scope, limit and effect, leaving a true "everything is possible" effect that do make the wizards and warlocks of this series "legendary".

The first book opens and hammers down, through Croaker's narrative, the idea that "good versus evil" doesn't exist, that "good" and "evil" are mostly human illusions and excuses, that in the end everybody is just morally gray and the "good side" is decided by the winners of battles and those that write down history. This is of course a subversion of the epic fantasy genre a la Tolkien, but it also serves as a subversion of the very fairytale logic of "good versus evil". And then, a de-subversion as Croaker and the Black Company come to realize, as they get involved deeper and deeper into the wars of the Lady and the return of the Dominator, that while human "goodness" and "evilness" are illusions, there is still an actual "evil" that is too inhuman and dangerous for the world and deserves to be fought by true "heroes". So, the trilogy does end up falling back into the fairytale dichotomy... But to do so, it needs to go beyond the human scope and scale of things, to enter the world of ancient myths and eldritch magic.

Among the Ten who Were Taken, several evoke "classical" fairytale monsters. All of them are evil witches and wicked sorcerers, but some clearly evoke the werewolfs of legends and the Big Bad Wolf (The Howler, Moonbitter) while others clearly take after the giants, trolls and ogres of old (Shapeshifter, Bonegnasher). [Plus Toadkiller Dog has strong "Big Bad Wolf" vibes too] Also, they use extensively flying carpets to fly around, directly as a nod to the One Thousand and One Nights. There are also several sorcerers who evoke the dwarfs of legend, from the evious Limper described as a "small man", to the duo of One-Eye and the aptly name Goblin, who are basically the trickster imps and mischievious dwarfs of old legends.

The story span over the three first books is actually a retelling of Snow-White. Literaly. It is about the fight and struggle by a powerful and beautiful witch-queen (the Lady) with powerful magic to her side (her Eye is the equivalent of the Magic Mirror) to destroy a pure little girl fated to destroy her (Darling, reincarnation of the "White Rose", quite a nod to "Snow White"), only for the little girl to be saved and protected by servants of the Lady who betray their former employer (The Black Company). The little girl events gets, in a Disney fashion, to become "friend" and gain control and protection from animals and plants of nature... with the twist being her "Disney princess" powers make her befriend the alien fauna and insane flora of the Lovecraftian Plain of Fear.

In "The White Rose", the memoirs of Bomanz note how strange it is that everybody was fascinated by the Domination and the Taken, despite them being pure evil, and how little interested is paid to the remains of the White Rose, despite her being the hero that saved them all. This can be taken as a reflection on fictional villains in general, but it does strike a chord with fairytales: fairytale villains are often more iconic, more well-known, more fascinating than the heroes, and the stories often end with the villains - not caring about what happens to the heroes or the "good guys" once the threat is done with. Everybody knows at least half of the names of the Taken, but nobody knows where the White Rose's grave is. (Aka, the "Disney villain phenomenon")

The Taken (plus Lady and Dominator) sleeping forever in their barrows, guarded by a DRAGON, and "woken up" by various intrepid adventurers passing by a deadly barrier has very strong "Sleeping Beauty" vibes - which becomes ironic when later the Lady reveals that her mother was actually the twisted source of the Sleeping Beauty story in this universe.

[hallowgracie]

I want to talk a little bit about the reboot of Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl and what is versus what it isn't.

Liberation is a deconstruction piece, but it isn't meant to be particularly gritty one. I think there are some topics that are a little on the darker side, like the exploration of the necessity of violence and the guilt that can come with that violence, even if the "victim" wasn't necessarily a good person. But that's as far as it goes.

This isn't a grim-dark subversion with no happy endings. There will be a happy ending for everyone involved--but there will be explorations into why little girls were selected to do this task, the loss of identity that might come with being a magical girl, and the way that mask can affect her development.

In Liberation, Elisa being a magical girl is equivalent to an autistic girl masking to be a more likable, societally-useful version of herself. She is more feminine and traditionally pretty and grown-up, she's more competent and as a leader, she behaves in a more responsible manner than she does as herself, Elisa Schumann.

But with her guilt over killing the Big Bad in a way that doesn't involve magic lasers and sparkles, but rather a sword through the heart, she has a breakdown. She realizes that she doesn't know who she is when she isn't a magical girl.

This is a story about masks. And it's also a love story about masks.

The Swan Knight, Elisa's ally and Tuxedo Mask/Chat Noir archetype, has always been supportive of her and is in love with her. But he's really only ever met Elisa as a magical girl princess.

There is no "real" Elisa, magical girl or ordinary. Both of those Elisas are "real." But as Elisa starts to get close to Liir, the son of the evil queen, she realizes that he knows all the sides of her and begins to fall for him as she learns who he is behind his masks.

And of course, she may discover that the Swan Knight is a more complex figure than she ever gave him credit for.

[rei-ismyname]

The Power Fantasy

I don't want to spoil any of it, I just want to get across how disgustingly good this book is. The premise revolves around the Superpowers - which carries a different meaning in this alternate history - an individual with the destructive capability of the USA's nuclear arsenal. Think about that. There are 6 of them currently, and they can NEVER fight directly because it would destroy the world. Kieron Gillen wrote that TPF is in conversation with Immortal X-Men, except it's a creator owned comic so the kid gloves are off. A deconstruction of cape comics because these people are so powerful that there's a constant necessary balancing act to avoid destroying the Earth. Superheroes, except not. They're all invested in the world continuing to exist (so far) but have vastly different beliefs on how to achieve that. Therein lies the tension.

Light spoilers henceforth

Take this guy, for instance, Brother Ray 'Heavy' Harris. He has absolute control over gravity, so much so he lives with his family (fellow powered individuals - Atomics - but not Superpowers) in a floating city powered by a gravitational singularity he made.

He's been described as Magneto meets The Dude (The Big Lebowski) though Gillen has said that's really only where he starts. He has a Xavier analogue too, Etienne Lux, who makes Chuck look like Mentallo. Etienne is the character we know best as issue #4 drops, but it's Kieron Gillen so it's safe to say there's so much more to learn as the tension ratchets up.

This MF is who Chuck sees himself as, but much more effective. Kills the US president issue #1.

There's no comic I recommend more confidently, and Casper Wijngaard's art is transcendental. I'm still learning how to discuss visual art critically, so bear with me. Never have I felt the visuals tell as much story as the words - every choice is bold, purposeful and beautiful. 1969 looks like 1969 if pseudo Gods were a factor in the Cold War. 1999 looks like 1999 if that cold war never truly ended, with the nuclear powers realising and reacting to not being the supreme powers on the planet.

It's exciting, it's fascinating, it's existentially horrifying, it's only just begun. It's something new done by the best in the game with nothing to stop him cooking. Treat yourself.

[magicalgirlgarbageunit]

Episode 01: Back on Track 

She had a slight diversion. But she’s back.

Back in uniform. Out of options.  Anna Glass didn’t think she’d ever return to the Bureau. But now she’s stuck on top of a runaway train, surrounded by strangers, and the monster’s already screaming.  Welcome back to magical girl work. It’s just as bad as she remembers.

The low hum of electricity filtering through cheap overhead lights was the only sound in the cold Bureau office. The silence stretched on forever.

A receptionist and a young potential employee sat across from each other. There was an unspoken tension in the room. The young hopeful twirled her hair absentmindedly, her nervous energy showing.

The receptionist didn’t look up. Her eyes scanned the folder stamped: “M-UNIT #1119-B-2 #5422-A-3, ‘GLASS, A.’”

“Glass, correct?” The receptionist’s voice was tinged with a hint of vitriol.

“Y-yes, ma’am…” The young woman across from her responded meekly, as if her voice would be swallowed whole in the aching silence. “A-Anna Glass.”

“A returning hire.” The receptionist’s voice was filled with skepticism, and she made no effort to hide her eyebrow raising.

“You’re to be deployed to your new unit in the field immediately.”

Anna couldn't stop herself from jumping in her uncomfortable seat. “W-what...? Don’t I get some training first?”

“Training,” the receptionist’s response was full of judgement. “Is reserved for people who are actually new. It’s not for failures who come crawling back to us after leaving so abruptly.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, the folder was stamped. No more discussion.

Well. Get out there, soldier.

---

Anna Glass stumbled through the crowd, her feet unsteady under the weight of her own body. It wasn't like her to be so inelegant, but having to get right back onto the field filled her with a kind of anxiety she rarely got to feel.

She broke through the crowd and finally stepped onto the train platform, panting and a little overwhelmed. 

She wasn't necessarily socially anxious… but she didn't like these crowded spaces just before a mission. Missions were already hard, gruelling work: it wasn't fun to be squished up against so many strangers just before one.

The train platform stood eerily silent and still. I thought the train was out of control? She thought to herself. It’s all quiet and peaceful here instead.

Almost as if on cue, the screeching sound of a train barrelling down the tracks sounded in her ears. She rushed to cover them as the train screamed its way closer to her. Now or never.

She flicked her wrist: the small, sky blue bracelet she wore began to shine. I hope this is a short transformation sequence!

A burst of blue sparkles exploded everywhere, followed closely by blue ribbons that wrapped themselves around Anna. She did the playful poses and cute winks she was trained to do - and internally begged it to hurry up this time. 

Her outfit exploded into being: a blue dress with adorable puff sleeves, a cute bustled skirt that ended just below her knees, a corset and matching choker with accentuating bows, and of course, two large ribbons that tied her long orange hair up into two soft twin tails.

Oh god, it’s the same outfit as last time! She realized with horror. Too late to fight it now: this is her battle uniform, for better or worse.

The transformation sequence finally settled to reveal… no train.

Anna looked down the tracks.

Yup. It passed her. Great.

Anna braced herself - and then blue magic swirled around her. This magic was a springboard: she leapt from the platform to a nearby lamppost, then another, and another, inching closer and closer to the dangerously speeding train. How has this thing not derailed yet? She thought to herself as she trailed it.

Finally, her leapfrogging got her exactly above the last train car… and on top of it, she could see the vague shape of figures. That must be my new team. Don’t mess this up, me!

She released her magical energy, letting herself land right in front of her new team.

It would have been really cool… if she landed on her feet instead of her face.

---

The first thing she noticed was that her unique magic - a shield to cover her body and absorb some of the damage she takes - did not help make this impact hurt her back any less. She groaned as she sat up, trying not to make the back pain any worse.

The second thing she noticed were her teammates.

“Nice entrance!” A strange, scratchy voice called out. Anna immediately turned to face her new team.

There stood two humans - a man and a woman - and of course, a Keeper and an Eater. She had expected the Keeper and Eater; a Ghoul can’t be stopped unless the Eater is there to, well, eat them; and a Keeper was needed to make sure the Eater was in check. That was normal. But this Keeper, this Eater, this team? Now that was unusual.

The woman - already looking ragged - just gave Anna a quizzical look.

The man - who, by the way, had the most extravagant and over-the-top magical outfit Anna had ever seen - just stared at her skeptically.

The Keeper was… unusually cute. Like, “Why isn’t she in the marketing material?” levels of cute.

The Eater, on the other hand… Anna was already a bit put off by her.

Before Anna could say anything, the man approached her, a serious look on his face. She was immediately put off - but before she could even say “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” He reached over… and snapped his fingers swiftly in front of her face.

She yelped. He backed off, grinning. “It’s ok, guys,” He announced with a smirk. “She isn’t a reptilian.”

WHAT THE FUCK??? Anna thought to herself as she watched the woman roll her eyes. “Good to know, Jack.” The man - Jack, apparently - just laughed in response.

“Sabine,” the woman offered, nodding to Anna and offering her a hand. “Sabine Durand.”

Anna took her hand and let Sabine lift her up.

“This idiot,” Sabine pointed to the man. “Is Jack Hartley. Ignore him, you’ll save more braincells that way.” Jack laughed loudly at that, which startled Anna a bit.

“The Keeper is Chocola.” Sabine continued. The Keeper gave a small, polite bow to Anna. “And the Eater is…”

“CARAMELLA!” The same gravelly voice from before shouted out. The Eater - Caramella, apparently - had quite an unsettling voice. I suppose that’s typical of Eaters, Anna thought to herself.

“Alright, enough introductions.” Sabine’s expression hardened, and she turned her attention towards the shifting limbs in the distance. “Let’s take this Ghoul down already.”

The Ghoul roared - a horrible, mechanical screech that reverberated in Anna’s bones. The numerous limbs it had, slick with oil and spouting steam from every rusted mechanical joint, all writhed around in random directions.

“I suspect it’s a manifestation of anxiety, burnout and fatigue after a long work day,” Chocola spoke up. Her voice was quiet and soft. Sabine nodded in response.

The team all turned their attention to the Ghoul. Anna swallowed back her fear. Guess I’m back to doing this.

[Song: “Diversion” by The Equals]

“Positions!” Sabine barked.

Nobody moved.

“Well?” she snapped.

“I just got here!!” Anna yelped, stumbling backwards as the Ghoul finally noticed the team and lunged. Bursts of steam hissed from every joint on its wretched body, and the nearest hand - more like a broken train coupler than a human hand - swung toward her like a flail.

Anna just barely met it with her weapon - a plain, undecorated cutlass. The impact rang through her bones, and she staggered.

Jack dramatically stepped in front of her, letting his cape flow in the wind like this was a play. “Fear not, fair maiden! The world’s Number One UFOlogist is here to protect you from all e-”

Another writhing Ghoul hand struck him from the side mid-monologue.

“Can you do anything useful?” Sabine barked again, growing frustrated as she slashed an arm off with her long, jagged spear. Caramella gleefully ate the arm up as it fell.

The Ghoul reared back to stab Jack with its rusted metal hands - but Sabine struck first. She slammed her spear into the train beneath them, and chains burst from the train roof, snapping around the Ghoul’s limbs and anchoring them to the floor.

Anna slashed the now immobile arms right away, panic filling her expression. Caramella ate every arm with disgusting joy. Anna shivered at the sight, but tried to focus.

Jack staggered back to his feet, dazed but grinning. He brandished his own weapon - a long, ornate royal sceptre, and spun it wildly. It glowed, and a hypnotic pattern of spiralling red hearts emerged in the movement, pulsing like a hypnotist’s disc and catching the attention of the Ghoul… and Anna.

“See? I’m helping!” Jack cried out triumphantly - until Anna stepped in front of him, clearly affected by his magic.

“Oh, shit!” He yelped, dropping the illusion just as the Ghoul started lunging towards them.

“Goddamnit,” Sabine mumbled bitterly under her breath as she rushed over, slashing another pair of piston-jointed arms off for Caramella to devour.

“You two need to focus!” Sabine spat. Anna, still dazed from Jack’s magic, only groaned in response.

“I’m totally focused!” Jack yelled indignantly.

Sabine sighed again. “I’m ending this,” she declared.

She slammed her spear into the train with a heavy clang. Chains surged from the metal, wrapping the Ghoul’s twitching body like a straightjacket.

Sabine moved without hesitation, cleaving its last three arms clean off. They fell uselessly to the ground and were snatched up by Caramella in seconds, who devoured them with manic glee.

The Ghoul’s body collapsed in a heap of grinding gears and wheezing exhaust, twitching like a dying engine. It let out pitiful cries, half-mechanical and half-human in sound. Sabine didn’t hesitate. She slashed it with five quick swipes, dicing it up into pieces. Caramella ate them all with a sick glee.

The last scrap of the Ghoul’s grotesque body disappeared into Caramella’s smiling mouth with a loud crunch. For a moment, all that remained was steam and the hum of train wheels beneath them.

Ghoul hunt: complete.

---

---

The train screeched to a halt - finally under control now that the Ghoul was eaten.

Frightened passengers filed out of the train cars. Oh god, there were people in there that whole time??? Anna thought, her mind still racing.

She glanced over at her new teammates. 

Sabine was busy cleaning Ghoul ichor off her vest. Chocola was poised, licking her paw to smooth out her fur. Jack gave an over-the-top smile and a thumbs up. Caramella was... eating a shoe...? Where did she even get that...?

A strange group to be sure - but they got the job done.

She blinked slowly.

I guess I’m back at it again.

—

[cut to theme song or w/e]

[artbyblastweave]

DIE was really good. Kieron Gillen Does Not Miss

[maryasmorevna]

still baffled that one popular anti-dany argument pre s8 was that since she was wearing black she leaning toward the Dark Side™...... as if in the same series another unambigously heroic protagonist didn't enlist into the night's guard where everyone must wear black, and the series' author wasn't explicitly against this kind of stereotypical tropes lmao

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Sarevok, his mother, and revenge

There are very few known information about lady Anchev, not even a canon name, but there's enough to know she mattered to Sarevok. The memory of her murder followed him through adulthood, and it's a huge part of his character. It's also one of the motivators behind his betrayal of Rieltar Anchev.

As usual, my rant is down there.

All that's really known about Sarevok and his mother is found within his diary.

"He [Rieltar] mentioned mother in our conversation: how I wasn't to be unfaithful to him as she had."

"I had a dream this night. My mother was talking to me, but as she did her face became bloated and discolored. Her voice became weaker as she spoke to me, telling me to save her from Rieltar. I could see the garrote cutting into her neck, but I did nothing. It was only a dream."

"Terribly sorry, 'father,' but my true parentage calls and you are in my way. I shall be sure to instruct the doppelgangers in the exact manner Rieltar should die. I think a garrote would be perfect for the task."

-> I will never not be obsessed with this. The way Sarevok writes about both of his foster parents tells much about his feelings toward each of them. He refers to Rieltar by his first name or as "'father'" with quotation marks. However, he always refers to lady Anchev as "mother", even "My mother". It's a rare touch of sentimentality from him. His mother has no name, but she's the only character who gets an entry in Sarevok's diary that's not related to his plans.

It's interesting to see where the introduction of lady Anchev is.

-> The first entry about Sarevok's foster mother is right after the first entry about Gorion, Charname's foster father. It's a structural choice to have both parents who mattered to Charname and Sarevok follow each other on the page. It shows how they mirror each other as a parental figure, but also how they diverge, as Gorion is still alive at that point, but lady Anchev is dead. They also both unsettle Sarevok, albeit for different reasons. In true parent mode, Gorion was the one to spot Sarevok was up to something.

Now, let's look closer at the entry introducing lady Anchev.

It's the retelling of a dream (*cough* what you call a nightmare when you're not repressed *cough*), and from the way it's structured, there's reason to believe it wasn't intended to be there. It starts with "I had a dream this night", followed by lady Anchev's murder with graphic details, but Sarevok minimizes the previous lines with "It was only a dream". It reads like Sarevok woke up disturbed by his dream, went to write it down right away then minimized what happened when he saw what he wrote. He couldn't erase the ink, and crossing it out would've been even more telling than the words themselves. Note that this is Sarevok's diary, it's not supposed to be read by anyone but him, but there's still this reflex of minimizing anything that could be perceived as a weakness.

There are a few things to take into consideration when looking at lady Anchev's death. First, memories can get distorted, second, it's a dream, so not everything should be taken literally. Typically, when lady Anchev talks to Sarevok in his dream.

"Her voice became weaker as she spoke to me, telling me to save her from Rieltar. I could see the garrote cutting into her neck, but I did nothing."

-> Lady Anchev was strangled by Rieltar with a garrote, she would've had no air to shout, much less form a coherent sentence while her brain was running out of oxygen and her trachea was being crushed.

It's more likely Sarevok's own guilt speaking through her. His "but I did nothing" reads like an accusation at himself, and more importantly, an admission of failure and powerlessness. Hence the immediate minimization. The language he uses is also worth a closer look: "telling me to save her from Rieltar". She's not asking him to do it, she's telling him to save her. It's phrased like an order and reinforces the impression it's Sarevok's inner dialogue rather than anything lady Anchev ever said. The kind you'd get when you'd try to get yourself to move, but your body doesn't follow.

Sarevok has this dream as an adult, at the height of his power and on his way to godhood. Yet, he still cannot save his mother, not even in a dream. That's the powerlessness this dream/memory throws him back to. The child he was when that happened was unable to save his mother, nor should he be expected to, but Sarevok views that as his own inaction, not his inability: "I did nothing." Rieltar is the murderer, yet he's only mentioned in the dream. Technically, he's not even there, it's only Sarevok, his mother and the garrote. Sarevok's dream frames him as the cause of her death because he "did nothing".

It adds internalized self-recrimination to Sarevok's character, which fits his past as an abused child. The structure of the dream rests the responsibility of action on Sarevok rather than Rieltar, making the one who was 'weak' take the blame. Sarevok's quest for power remains even after his resurection because it's something rooted in his past, not his taint. The weak are to blame for what happens to them because they aren't strong enough to defend themselves. That's the twisted mindset he learned from Rieltar, because he's been the weak one at his mercy. The murder of Sarevok's mother is important, because it's the starting point, it's when that idea starts to sink in. Discovering he's a Bhaalspawn only cements that mindset by giving it a 'predestined' element. His very nature is to cause pain. It doesn't matter that it's not true, it becomes part of his misbelief and further taints how he interacts with the world around him. A part of that behavior is minimizing or outright dismissing anything that could make him 'weak', such as being upset by a nightmare of his mother's murder.

Even though Sarevok claims "It was only a dream", his plotting of Rieltar's murder contradicts that.

"I shall be sure to instruct the doppelgangers in the exact manner Rieltar should die. I think a garrote would be perfect for the task."

-> Sarevok has many reason to kill Rieltar, some purely practical, but this, this is personal. Yes, he tries to lure Charname and their party into killing Rieltar, but how hard does he really try? He charms the whole city of Baldur's Gate, but lets his front crumble after a couple of valid questions from Charname? Charname's cooperation isn't necessary because he has set everything to frame them for the murder anyway. Sarevok isn't present when Rieltar dies, because he's busy having an alibi, he can't do the deed himself, or say anything he'd want to say, but he makes sure Rieltar dies in a manner where he'll still get the message. One that tells him exactly how long Sarevok has waited for this, how long Rieltar was fooled. Ever since her.

You don't get to know more about Sarevok's mother, not even in ToB, but there's a dialogue you can get when talking with Sarevok. It's a dialogue you get if you take his offer to swear a binding oath post resurection.

Sarevok: "[...] You have no remaining grudges from our earlier matches?" Charname: "No, not really. You paid for what you did." Sarevok: "I… paid for it. You do not still feel anger over what I did to your stepfather?"

-> There's a lot Sarevok did to Charname in BG 1 they could be mad about. Framing them for murder and sending multiple assassins after them among the most prominent. But the one Sarevok's mind goes to, the one he considers the most impossible to forgive is killing Gorion. Sarevok thinks of the emotional reason not to forgive him, not the attempts on Charname's life, which are numerous, but the murder of a caring parent. Because it's something he relates to. He held on to his grudge for years before he could do something about it.

When Sarevok is finally in a position to get revenge, he goes all out. He writes a letter to justify his absence at Candlekeep to Rieltar. The last sentence is interesting, because it's probably the only true statement in the letter.

Father, [...] I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. [...] I am sorry that I will not be at your side. Sarevok

-> Sarevok is sorry he won't be there when Rieltar is killed. He'll have to be satisfied with knowing he was the one to make it happen.

The thing about Sarevok's revenge against Rieltar, is that it doesn't stop with killing him. No, that's too easy, too little. Sarevok also destroys everything Rieltar worked for. The iron conspiracy, the development of the Iron Throne on the Sword Coast, all of that was Rieltar's project at the start.

"While this is a great blow to the Iron Throne, it is the perfect opportunity for Rieltar to approach the Throne high council with his proposal."

"The Iron Throne council has agreed to support Rieltar's plan. He has been given all the resources he needs, as well as leadership of the project."

-> Sarevok took over Rieltar's own plan and once his control was total and his own personal goal (being named grand duke) was within reach, he ran this entire, brand new, branch of the Iron Throne into the ground.

"I have been sent from Sembia to determine why this branch of the Iron Throne has foundered [...]."

"I will not debate that he [Sarevok] is in control, but whatever his plans, they certainly do not have the good of the Iron Throne in mind. He has abandoned us in favor of his new position [...]. We are simply to be cast off, and I would not be surprised if the marches the Flaming Fist through here tomorrow as a show of his stance on mercantile crime!"

"I only know business, and what he is doing makes very little economic sense. [...] As it is, he is seemingly intent on abandoning us and launching a bloodbath of a war."

Valdis (Charname): Then you won't mind if I help myself to your coffers, will you? Pang Wallen: Bah, they are nearly empty regardless! Sarevok has been making decisions on the sidelines for some time now, and it has cost us all plenty. He does not seem concerned with profits or much of anything! The iron shortage became his pet project, but he has used it to inflame tensions instead of build business! He's brought us down as sure as if he was some 'hero'. [...]

"He throws away gold like it was copper, and uses our best laid plans to inflame governments instead of bargaining for wealth!"

Tralithan: Oh, wonderful. I recognize you from the descriptions given. You are the one accused of murdering our leaders, are you not? I suppose you are here to exact revenge or some such? Well, we are already defeated by one of our own and do not need you. You would do better to focus your efforts on Sarevok, rather than beating up those already beaten. Valdis (Charname): Why would he turn his back on the Iron Throne? Tralithan: Because he was never interested in us in the first place. [...]

"He secures himself as leader of the Iron Throne and then all but destroys its mercantile credibility by practically sacking it!"

-> At this point of the story, Sarevok has more or less won (he's not aware Charname has escaped yet), the Iron Throne has served its purpose and he no longer has a use for it, however, there's no need to destroy it. The scapegoat of the iron crisis was always Amn and most people ate that up. Sarevok could let his plan runs its course, without making another move on the Throne. Instead, he ruins the Iron Throne and targets them with Baldur's Gate's guards. It's a bit of a disservice to his plan, because he already had their leaders assassinated, now he's ruining their business. He knows how the Throne works, he knows they'll send people after him, he just doesn't care. He knows he can defeat anything they throw at him at this point. Sarevok doesn't run Rieltar's operation into the ground because it serves a purpose for him, he does it because he wants to. He doesn't only kill Rieltar, he destroys everything he built on the Sword Coast.

It's not the only time Sarevok makes a 'scorched earth' plan against someone he has a personal grudge against, the other being Gorion's ward and the Candlekeep chapter, but that should've its own post.

Conclusion: Sarevok's affection for his mother is showed in a subdued and repressed way. There's never any vocal expression of it, but it's in his thoughts even when he doesn't want it to be, like his dream. It's built in his plans when he wants Rieltar killed the same way he killed her. She's not the only reason Sarevok tears down all of Rieltar's work, but she's a fundamental one.

"I think a garrote would be perfect for the task."

It's the last sentence of Sarevok's diary. This is what the one insight you get into Sarevok's mindset in BG 1 closes on. He doesn't talk about himself or his future godhood here, indirectly he talks about her. Sarevok denies it matters on paper, but unconsciously contradicts his claim. It hints at where Sarevok's weak points are. He's not fully self-aware, he doesn't overcome pain or weakness, he denies that he experiences either.

It never is 'only a dream'. Lady Anchev is haunting Sarevok. Killing Rieltar and ruining his work isn't just about her, but the closing statement of his diary is.

[bythesametolkien]

say what you will about the His Dark Materials television adaptation, but literally the first pair of angels to be introduced in human form are making out before the end of the episode. common Pullman win.