Thinking about pachalo yesterday
q!Pac… he was so so concerned. worried that if Dapper was really missing, q!Bad would change colors again (he uh. kinda wasn’t wrong? *stares at the green* o_o) Then when he found out q!Bad is having memory issues…? ough
He ranted about how everytime things are settled & back on the right track again, something happens. and got upset saying how q!Bad has been through a lot and doesn’t deserve this to happen to him- not right when everything is finally looking good again. that even though today is a good day because of the eggs, q!Pac can’t help feeling sad and very worried for his friend and wants to help him. He gave the flower of the day too :(
Though I think what’s most interesting to me is how q!Pac started to get angry. saying he should kidnap, lock q!Bad up to ask questions and find out what the heck happened to him when leaving purgatory. how he got frustrated at q!Bad forgetting him 5 times, backed away saying he’ll kill him, and had to take deep breaths and count to ten to calm down.
anger…. for q!Bad’s sake. angry at the unfairness of this condition happening to his friend, who he’s already watched suffer for months. q!Bad should be healthy, happy- the eggs are back! there’s new eggs! why can’t he just be happy now, why did he have to be hurt more? he doesn’t deserve this.
anger for q!Pac’s own sake, angry at the distant look in q!Bad’s eyes when they meet his. they fought and bled, ran for their lives and protected each other on the purgatory battlefield for so long. watching the friendship he’s come to treasure over this time slip away right in front of him… he won’t let it.
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I have a lot of thoughts.
Ok so I loved it. It was cheesy but I do love the entire hotel’s dynamic. They’re such a messed up found family. It was sweet as hell (pun intended) that they all stayed for Charlie and their home (gosh darn it, the hotel’s become home for them)!
The duet between Chaggie was adorable.
BUT BUT the last two episodes only cemented my intrigue with Charlastor. I do love fanon Charlastor.
But their canon dynamic on its own is so interesting. Like it doesn’t have to be romantic.
It’s in the way he didn’t immediately deal for her soul and yet we just know the deal is going to be heartbreaking.
It’s in the way despite his touch-aversion he is STILL so touchy with her. Like I always thought that it was power play, and to some extent it still is. But he already got the deal he wanted from her, and yet he still caresses her hair, pinches her cheeks, loops her arm around his in some parody of a gentleman’s hold?? (So so touchy, and it even seems different in the past that it seems almost friendly. It was weirdly adorable how proud he was in showing off Cannibal Town to Charlie). Sure it may be manufactured, but part of me thinks that part of it is unconscious because he displays a level of comfort with her similar to what he displays with Rosie, with his friends in other words. He’s called her ‘charming’ twice now!
It’s in the way that despite that Charlie has always been the underdog and mocked, in his own sadistic way, he HAS always believed in her (even as he still thinks it’s all for his own amusement). Even if he’s only using her there’s something to be said that he’s always believed her side was the winning side. He parallels Vaggie in that way I think. He seems proud of her (like seriously I wouldn’t expect him to actually smile sincerely with Charlie’s heartfelt declaration of love for all of them - him of all sinners!) AND here’s the thing, I could easily believe he thinks he will leave everyone high and dry if it’s a choice between him or them. He’s in it for himself after all. But when he sings about seeing and polishing Charlie’s potential, yeah it’s definitely villainous, but it’s striking that whatever mysterious endgame he has in the future still seems to include her.
And the most striking thing for me! We now know that his staff is his weakness, possibly a large source of his power. AND what this heartless sinner who trusts no one hands it over to Charlie?? Twice? He literally puts his weakness in her hands? It shows that (despite not admitting to it) he trusts in Charlie’s inherent goodness that she won’t take advantage of his vulnerability, because for some reason I don’t see him doing that with anyone else.
Charlie and Alastor are foils. Their dynamic forms a crucial part of the show. Absolute goodness versus absolute evil is boring. Alastor’s villainous breakdown is prepping the audience for a heartbreaking betrayal. But again it would be a boring development to watch if Alastor was his usual smug and evil self through it all. For it to have weight, Alastor also has to go through inner turmoil as well. Corrupt the cutie is a favorite trope for a reason. But who’s corrupting who? From Alastor’s breakdown, it’s clear he’s not as in control of everything anymore. I love love Alastor’s unwilling, conflicting, growing attachment to the hotel (which is best shown through his relationship with Charlie, though I would hope he develops his relationships with the other hotel residents too).
And it would be so interesting (and satisfying! and heartbreaking) if Charlie ends up playing Alastor at his own game. If Charlie is the one factor that Alastor doesn’t see coming because he (shock!) actually DOES trust her. In other words, in the same way Charlie (and the hotel) is influencing Alastor to become softer (and in his view, weak), what if Charlie does end up being influenced enough by Alastor’s mentoring that she ends up becoming all the more ruthless. Because I can see a scenario where Charlie ends up ‘betraying’ Alastor for what she deems a justified reason. Alastor’s ruthlessness with the self-righteousness of an angel? Whoo boy. There would be so many layers of dramatic irony there that Alastor’s plan of corrupting Charlie ends up working so well but it ends up hurting him because she’s the chink that manages to get past that smiling armor.
And compounding this inevitable tragedy is the knowledge that this could have all been avoided. Alastor trusts her, but it seems like it’s not enough or his urge for control still wins out in the end. Because for me there was no need to go through a deal. If it’s Charlie, she wouldn’t abandon Alastor and she’d do everything to help free him if that’s what the deal was for because that’s the only deal I can think of that wouldn’t require Charlie to hurt anyone.
Unless the deal isn’t about that. Unless typical power-hungry Alastor’s goal really is to depose Lucifer and to rule Hell. Because Charlie definitely wouldn’t help in that (unless she was forced to through their deal) but perhaps there’s something only she can do that ends up handing power over to Alastor.
That is to say Chaggie fulfills that itch for stability and a happy ending. Charlastor fulfills that itch for angst and push-and-pull. From the beginning, it’s been a tug of war and a battle of wills between Charlie and Alastor and I’m glad to see that theme has remained in the show. Alastor will be the truest test of Charlie’s belief in redemption. It’s exciting to see who’ll win out. Will Alastor corrupt her first or will Charlie redeem him first?
Like I thought I’d only see this is in fic, but heck I didn’t think we would actually get a group hug with Alastor but wow omg I can’t believe we actually got it in the show proper!
That is to say this long spiel is just to say that the show ended up turning me into a multishipper haha.
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Daylight
The smallest of stones, the greatest of ripples.
Summary: Eris learns that Lucien is not Beron's son (one-shot).
Eris paced the small room, his steps soundless. Barefoot, ready for bed, cold rough stone to warm soft carpet. Over and over, again and again, a comfort.
The smell of copper, sharp like night blooming flowers, hung in the air. Eris noticed that he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. He traced the wound with his tongue, the salt and metal of his blood enough to ground him, to clear his mind.
Eris took a deep breath. He knew all the flames of this world, it was his birthright. Centuries he had lived, had witnessed much, gained enough wisdom.
Eyes like gold, glowing unlike any fire made of Autumn, Eris had seen only a glimpse of it and had known. Magic was ancient, but simple, responding like a trained hound to those who had taken the time to learn its secrets. Stoked to life in the court he had been raised in, Eris would have recognised the flames as his own.
Daylight.
Sunbright, lovely, Lucien’s eyes had been twin stars in the darkness.
It had taken every ounce of self control Eris possessed not to rear back at the sight, a death sentence.
An oath taken, a promise made in blood, Eris had nearly forgotten. His mother’s hands, claws as she had gripped his arm, begged her eldest son to grant her strange request. Everything had been made clear as Eris had silently watched the Lady of Autumn gently stroke Lucien’s curls from his face, eyes half-lidded and gold only like sunlight could be.
Small for his age and precious as all fae children were, Lucien was coddled by everyone in the Forest House.
Half a decade, nothing in the grand scheme of things, and yet enough to change everything. The smallest of stones, the greatest of ripples.
The flames in the fireplace flared, Eris tugged at the short strands of blood red hair at the nape of his neck. He felt like he was drowning, his head already below the water’s surface, Eris choked on his own fear.
“Eris, please.” His mother’s voice was quiet, a tremor in her words as she took to begging him once more. For what, Eris did not know, and in the moment he could not be bothered to care.
Eris whirled around to face her, smaller than he remembered, the Lady of Autumn looked up at her son. His fear was reflected in her eyes, the weight of knowing that an executioner’s axe hung just above Lucien’s head.
“How could you?” Eris snarled, the words biting, accusatory. Never had he spoken to his mother in such a way, the softest of tones always reserved for her.
She shook her head, loose strands falling from her braid and framing her thin face. Defeated, her shoulders curved as she curled in on herself. Eris hoped she felt guilty. “You wouldn’t understand,” she murmured, dismissive and soft.
A strangled laugh, short and unamused, was dragged from deep within Eris. His mother took a careful step towards him, and Eris took a measured step back. Closer in age than half his brothers, Eris had always understood the Lady of Autumn. “Six sons were not enough?” Eris snapped harshly.
“All children are a blessing,” she did not look at Eris as she said it, more to herself than to him anyway.
Eris wondered if those were the words his mother had told herself when she had first married the High Lord. A half truth quietly whispered when she had been alone, but not entirely convincing despite how often it was said.
“A fate worse than death awaits him,” Eris argued, sure that flames had come to life in his amber eyes, voice louder. “You’re lucky father is in Spring, or Lucien would be dead already.”
“You don’t know that,” hands clenched into fists at her side, the Lady of Autumn raised her own voice to match.
Eris felt as the temperature in the room changed, uncomfortably hot, the flames in the fireplace and in the torches along the wall responding to the raging emotions of them both. “It’s cruel,” he hissed, “it’s wrong.”
A child born of an affair, Lucien was well and truly doomed, and who else was Eris to blame but the Lady of the Autumn Court.
“And you know much about cruelty,” the condemnation was clear in the tone his mother used.
If Eris had taken a moment to think, to consider how worried and frightened she was, perhaps he would have known to stop their argument. Instead, Eris pointed a shaking finger, angry, at the female that had raised him as best she knew how. “And whose fault is that?” The question was bitter, all poison, meant to hurt.
“You can be so much like your father.”
The last word a growl, the statement hung between them. Eris would have rather she had taken a knife to his chest.
Almost as though the Lady of Autumn had struck him, Eris flinched back.
With a startled gasp, eyes wide in shock and lips parted, his mother put out her hand. Regret, clear as river water, flashed on her sharp features. But the words had been said. “Eris,” she took a step towards him, “I didn’t–”
The door opened suddenly, the ancient hinges screaming in protest, cutting her sentence short. Eris was glad for it, wished he had not come home, would have preferred the war camps to this.
Eris had assumed the door was locked, panic coursed through his veins as he wondered who might have heard. Relief, like rain during a drought, came over Eris as Lucien walked into the room. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard, Eris and his mother silent.
Eyes half shut with sleep, russet once more, Lucien dragged his bare feet along with a small blanket behind him. Eris watched as he rubbed at his eyes with one hand, as he broke into a little yawn.
“Ris?” He mumbled, voice heavy. “I thought I heard your voice.”
Eris watched as his mother moved towards her youngest son, expecting him to go to her. Instead, Lucien made his way to Eris, nearly tripping on the blanket he had brought with him.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Eris barely recognised his own voice.
With a half-hearted shrug, Lucien knocked into Eris’s legs. “I heard you talking in the hall,” another yawn before he continued, “You didn’t come say goodnight.” Completely trusting and entirely unaware of all that had happened moments before he had entered the room, Lucien clung to Eris.
The Lady of Autumn watched with wary eyes as Eris lifted Lucien into his arms gently. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He murmured.
Lucien merely hummed his response, tired. Resting his head on Eris’s shoulder, his breaths slowing once more.
Eris could see the pleading on his mother’s face, but he did not look at her long. He turned his attention to the arched window, watching the first rays of the sun inching over the horizon.
Daylight.
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as yr favorite local jason todd fan sometimes i get so fed up with the apparent inability of most dc comic writers to write a class conscious narrative about him.
and yes, i know that comics are a very ephemeral and constantly evolving and self-conflicting medium.
and yes, i know they’re a profit-driven art medium created in a capitalistic society, so there are very few times where comics are going to be created solely out of the desire to authentically and carefully and deliberately represent a character and take them from one emotional narrative place to another, because dc cares about profit and sometimes playing it safe is what sells.
and yes, i know comics and other forms of art reflect and recreate the society within which they were conceived as ideas, and so the dominant societal ideas about gender and race and class and so on are going to be recreated within comics (and/or will be responded to, if the writer is particularly societally conscious).
but jesus christ. you (the writer/writers) have a working class character who has been homeless, who has lost multiple parents, who has been in close proximity to someone struggling with addiction, who has had to steal to survive, who may have (depending on your reading of several different moments across different comics created by different people) been a victim of csa, who has clearly (subtextually) struggled with his mental health, who was a victim of a violent murder, and who has an entirely distinct and unique perspective on justice that has evolved based on his lived experiences.
and instead of delving into any of that, or examining the myriad of ways that classism in the writers’ room and the editors’ room and the readers’ heads affected jason’s character to make sure you’re writing him responsibly, or giving him a plotline where his views on what justice looks like are challenged by another working class character, or allowing him to demonstrate actual autonomy and agency in deciding what relationships he wants to have with people who he loves but sees as having failed him in different ways, or thinking carefully about what his having chosen an alias that once belonged to his murderer says about his decision-making and motivations, you keep him stuck in a loop of going by the red hood, addressing crime by occupying a position of relative power that perpetuates crime & harm rather than ever getting at the root causes, and seesawing between a) agreeing with his adoptive family entirely about fighting nonlethally in ways that are often inconsistent with his apparent motivations or b) disagreeing and experiencing unnecessarily brutal and violent reactions from his adoptive father as if that kind of violence isn’t the kind of thing he experienced as a child and something bruce himself is trying to prevent jason from perpetuating. because a comic with red hood, quips, high stakes, and familial drama sells.
it doesn’t matter if it keeps jason trapped, torn between an unanswered moral and philosophical question, a collection of identities that no longer fit him, and a family that accepts him circumstantially. it doesn’t matter if jason’s characterization is so utterly inconsistent that the only way to mesh it together is to piece different aspects of different titles and plotlines together like a jigsaw. it doesn’t matter if you do a disservice to his character, because in the end you don’t want to transform him or even understand him deeply enough to identify what makes him compelling and focus on that.
and i love jason!!!!! i love him. and i think about the stories we could have, if quality and art and doing justice to the character were prioritized as much as selling a title and having a dark and brooding batfam member besides bruce just to be the black sheep character are prioritized. and i just get a little sad.
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"Narcissa", Sirius spoke, leaning against the doorway.
Narcissa turned from her vanity to face him, "What do you want?"
He grinned, shuffling further into the room and ungracefully flopping down onto her bed.
Narcissa picked up her lipstick and carried on getting ready.
"Bellatrix is creeping Reg out."
"Regulus is old enough to handle himself."
Sirius frowned, "Against Bella? She's completely insane."
Narcissa huffed, turning back to face him, "She is not! Besides, I'm sure people think that of you."
Sirius mumbled, "Good", as he chewed the cuff of his shirt.
"Can you stop? Merlin, that is disgusting, Sirius!"
Sirius grinned again, "Priss."
Narcissa rolled her eyes, "You're a mess. Uncle Orion will be furious, you know? He was planning on introducing you to Harold Minchum, he's very opposed to our more traditional ways but he thinks he'll like you and that you'd be able to convince him to be an ally for our family, rather than a hindrance. He's a bit of a socialist, you see."
Sirius glared at her, "I think I'd only succeed in making him hate our family more."
Narcissa's lip twitched, "I told Aunt Walburga that, but they seem set in introducing you."
Sirius swang upwards, "I better get down there then, tell the minister just how uptight and prejudiced this family is."
Narcissa sighed, "Can you not put family first just this once?"
"You're the one worried over your looks more than your cousin getting murdered by your sister."
Narcissa shot him a glare, "I am trying to be presentable for important networking and Bellatrix loves Regulus, she's not going to murder him!"
Sirius kicked her doorway, "She'd murder me."
"That's because you're a huge wanker!"
Sirius turned back around, "You swore! Prissy Cissa swore!"
Narcissa glared at him again, "And if you tell anyone, I'll be the one to kill you instead. Now will you please defile our family name and leave me to get ready?"
Sirius shot both his arms up in the air in surrender, "All you had to do was ask! I love defiling the family name!"
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