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headinthestaticsky · 3 years

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Frozen Within the Night Wind: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 8.

None of the characters in Twilight belong to me, All rights go to Stephenie Meyer!

Authors Note: I am SO sorry I didn't post chapter's when I said I would, I needed a little break from writing, I hope you all can understand. This is a shorter chapter for now.

"Nothing really changed you've got my heart. I found a new place but it's not a brand new start. I guess I'll be alright with it, Can't fight with it. Looks like you're coming here tonight."

Must Have by, Joni Payne

Jake and the pack left soon after with Bella right on their trail, Edward stalked off somewhere. The Cullens and I however all sat in Carlisle's office, a radiating tension could be felt in every corner of the room. Jasper's grip on my hand tightened, and his face was fixed with dread and anger. I eyed Rosalie for a second, hoping she would get the message I was trying to send.

"Hey, why don't we give these two a moment to talk?" Rosalie suggested. The rest of the Cullen's nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind them. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Not really no." He replied I could sense a tinge of attitude in his voice. He stood up and paced around the room.

"Dumb question I know..." I didn't really know what else to say, he had told me how he turned when he revealed he was a vampire to me. It had to bring back some bad memories.

"Newborns are...deadlier than any other vampire, no matter how powerful the gift of another vampire is."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, sighing again instead...

"Ugh was I really going to get this lecture again?" I thought to myself.

"I know Jasper." I tried to say it in a way that wasn't rude... but from the look on his face it came out quite, dryly.

"Don't start that." He snapped and stopped pacing to look at me.

"Don't start what?"

"Every time I explain the basics of a newborn you act like that."

"Jazz..."

"Don't "Jazz" me!"

"Look... it's only because I already fucking know what they are... I don't know if you forgot but am one."

"And?"

"And!? I don't need to be reminded of how unpredictable I can be! I get it in the beginning when I was first changed but...I can't stand to hear it anymore...you make me feel like a monster."

"You need to know the things you're capable of."

"I KNOW WHAT I'M CAPABLE OF YOU TELL ME ALL THE TIME!" I said standing up and stopping right in front of him.

"Obviously you don't," Jasper replied, his voice was riddled with anger.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"I mean you are still living with your father... you're going to tell me you haven't been tempted by his scent once?"

I didn't say anything... I knew what I wanted to say would be a lie.

"Yeah... I thought so."

"I do know something..." I snide in a condescending tone.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I have more control over my blood lust than you... That's pretty transparent to everyone else here. You would rip out my Dad's throat out if he as much as scrap on the arm."

I couldn't stop myself from spewing those words out, but I was hurt... I felt the need to protect myself. He hit below the belt for me so I tried to do the same thing with him. The look on his face proved that it worked. Regret soon filled my body, the anger simmered down.

"Jasper..." he stormed off before I could say anything else.

"Oh, man..." I muttered to myself, I slid back onto the couch and rested my head on both of my hands, my engagement ring was in my line of view. It made me feel even worse.

"Fleur?" It was a voice I didn't hear often, I looked up and saw Dean looking at me.

"I really screwed up this time Dean." I heard him shuffle beside me.

"You were protecting yourself...you thought the words he was saying at first were an attack on you."

"Who wouldn't be hurt by someone describing things so vile that are true about you Dean? I mean... the number of times I've been tempted to completely drain the blood of my father and friends around me is horrible... I am disgusting..."

"You're not disgusting, you're just learning...and I am too still to this day. Moping about it isn't going to help you, we all saw where that got us with Edward a year ago."

"I know you're right...but."

"But what?"

"The things I said to Jasper...you should've seen the look on his face... I really hurt him."

"Fleur, he's a big boy... he just needs to cool off. You do too, talk when you both are a bit more level-headed."

"Yeah... that's probably a good idea... I'll see you guys tomorrow, I'm going to go out for a drive." I hugged Dean and made it out of Carlisle's office.

The looks on the faces of the Cullen's told me they heard what happened. I didn't even acknowledge them and soon left. Mountains of frustration and anger had finally been taken out inside of me. It was like a powerful earthquake hit, the fake facade of each inch on the mountain crumbled to the ground. I took it out on the wrong person... one who was just trying to help me. I texted my father telling him I would be spending the night at the Cullens so he didn't wait up on me. I didn't even know where I wanted to go, so I just drove around aimlessly on the highway in complete silence. It was calming to be by myself for a bit. But the anger and guilt still crept up behind me.

I tried to justify why I said the things I did, he sounded like a broken record to me. Constantly reminding me of the things I hate about myself... It felt like I was going insane. But... I knew his past going into a relationship... how he was changed, the things he was forced to do. What was happened now must've brought something up that he was constantly trying to forget. It must've terrified him, we didn't even fully know who was behind it, there were too many suspects to decide who it really was. That probably didn't help with anything either. I knew tomorrow we would have to train the wolves to fight this army... hopefully everything would go well.

Timeskip: A day later.

I arrived later than everyone else, the only one that was missing was Edward. Jasper and I met eyes quickly before I darted them down to the ground. I walked and stood next to him, before I could say anything to him he walked away.

"Emmett... come here, why don't we warm up before the wolves get here."

"Bring it." Emmett said, a smirk was on his face and he was cracking his knuckles.

Three seconds later, Emmett was flying through the air and landed hard on the ground. I walked over to Rosalie who's face was in shock.

"I guess he's still mad then?" She inquired.

"Yeah..." I saw Edward and Bella pull up next to my car.

"He sure is..."

"AGAIN!"

#jasper whitlock x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #rosalie hale #jasper hale #jasper cullen #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #edward cullen

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7-wonders · 4 years

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Almost Feelings

Summary: Just when things were starting to get back to normal, an accidental confession by Michael sends shockwaves through your relationship.

Word Count: 3148

A/N: Another chapter of Mad Love, done. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope this doesn’t suck too much.

Life manages to slowly reassume a state of relative normality. After Dinah Stevens had checked you over and declared you free of Satan’s influence, you were allowed to actually leave your bed and once again have freedom. Well, limited freedom. Michael has been wary of letting you out of his sight, terrified that Satan will once again attempt to control you. Your father-in-law hasn’t made an appearance in your lives since the night that he possessed a cocktail waitress, which is what scared both you and Michael the most.

Michael had fully been expecting to be swept down to Hell for a thorough scolding about “spurning” the gifts being given to him. As the days passed with none of the usual indicators that Satan was near, your worry started to wane. Surely he had better things to do than stalk you and wait to once again try the plan that had already failed? Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure. If there’s one thing he knows about the being he’s never met, it’s that he’s extremely patient.

The gilded cage in which you’ve spent the past days under Michael’s watch has become increasingly more confining. Even if you weren’t outwardly expressing your discomfort, Michael would be able to sense it. Although he wants nothing more than to make sure you’re safe at all times, he knows he can’t keep you locked in the house. Maybe if he was less of a lovestruck Antichrist, he would have no qualms about it. The power dynamics in your relationship have changed, for better or for worse, and he cares about your wants far too much for him to disregard your feelings.

It’s only been a few days since your bout of “food poisoning” when Michael finally agrees with you that it’s safe to return to class, but it feels as if it’s been months. Even in the largest house you’ve ever inhabited, cabin fever still runs rampant. As he watches you run out the door to get to campus, Michael feels a tugging in his chest that he’s come to associate with you. Watching the one person you love most in the world leave the safety of your protection is a pain that, unfortunately, Michael’s become all too familiar with.

While Michael’s dealing with emotions he’s never had before, you’re nearly drunk on the freedom that you’ve been denied lately. It’s not exactly warm out, but the windows in your car are rolled down and the wind whips your hair around your face as you sing along to the radio at the top of your lungs.

Classes, of course, you could do without. It’s the little moments, getting to laugh with your friends in class and holing up in your favorite hidden corners when you have a break, that make the monotony of lectures bearable. Michael, predictably, breaks the established rules of communication by texting you to make sure that you’re okay at least once an hour. Prior to momentarily being Satan’s puppet, this would have irritated you to no end. Now, you understand Michael’s motives in a way that you previously hadn’t.

“You look a lot better,” Mallory says in place of a regular greeting when you meet up with her in the library after class.

“As opposed to my regularly horrendous appearance?” She rolls her eyes, obviously not appreciating your joke.

“You know what I meant.” You slide into the seat across the table from Mallory, tugging your textbook and laptop out of your backpack. “The endless bout of food poisoning is finally gone for good?”

“I think so. I started feeling human a couple of days ago, and this is the first day I haven’t felt like crawling into a hole and dying since I got sick.”

“Well that’s good. I almost thought you were avoiding us after revealing your secret.” You look up, panicked at what she could mean before realizing that she means your living arrangements.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t avoid you guys, because it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really? Because with the way that Michael looks at you, you would think that you were married.”

You laugh nervously and pretend to search for a pen in your bag, attempting to hide your anxious expression. “Like I’ve told you before, we’re just friends and he was nice enough to help me out when I was facing a tough time.”

“It’s not a bad thing if you do have feelings for him, (Y/N).”

“I just don’t get why you and Kate are stuck on this idea,” you grumble.

Mallory’s gaze softens when she sees how her comments affected you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise. Let’s just work on homework before we get too off-track.”

Of course, this plan works for a good twenty minutes, giving you just enough time to read and take notes from one chapter of your text before your attention is drawn away from the task at hand. Mallory had merely asked for your help in identifying the proper use of ‘affect’ versus ‘effect,’ which almost immediately led to discussing topics that have nothing to do with schoolwork.

“I think we need to focus on the real issue here,” you comment as Mallory laments Kate and Brennan’s latest argument, this one about moving in together.

“Which is?”

“Your own love life, of course.” Mallory groans, making you pout. “Mal, you haven’t mentioned any sort of romantic interest once since I met you.”

“Because I have better things to do than spend my time swiping on Tinder.” You can tell that there’s more she’s not divulging, and a good minute of remaining silent while sneaking glances at her has the brunette finally speaking again. “I...my last relationship didn’t end well at all.”

“Was this while you were still living in New Orleans?”

“Yeah. Actually, my decision to transfer here is what led to our break up. She wanted me to stay, I wanted to go, and that was that.”

You feel for her, but an interesting bit of information captures the majority of your attention. “‘She!’”

Mallory flushes, attempting to stutter out an answer, but you’re far too excited to allow her to speak.

“Ooh, that doubles the potential dating pool for you! I know so many people who would be so interested in you, and they’re just the ones that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“While I appreciate your excitement, I’m just not sure I’m quite ready for another relationship yet.” You nod in understanding, but Mallory’s phone chiming ends the conversation before you can suggest slowly diving back into the dating pool. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. I have way too much homework that I haven’t gotten started on.”

“Wanna make a deal?” Mallory asks as you walk towards the parking lot together.

“A deal?”

“Mhm. I won’t bring up the Michael issue anymore if you won’t try and drag me out to go and meet new people.”

You have to hand it to her; she’s extremely good at bartering. “Alright then, we have a deal.”

Shockingly, Michael’s not waiting at the door for you when you arrive home. You find him in the kitchen searching for food, although he does look like he’s trying not to seem like he’s waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet, hopping up on the counter and pulling Michael into a hug that he begrudgingly returns.

“Hi. How were classes today?”

“I survived, so…” you trail off, shrugging.

“And you’re feeling okay? Nothing odd happened to you?”

“No, I’m great.” Just to prove how great you are, you shove Michael away from you. “Could someone possessed by Satan do that?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Getting off of the counter, you snag a sandwich from a plate and take a very well-deserved bite. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve asked me many questions about many things, all without asking beforehand if you can.”

“Well it’s a touchy subject, and people usually like to make sure that it’s okay to ask.”

Michael looks at you like he’s not sure he wants to know what you’ll ask, but nods anyways. “Ask away, then.”

“You’re treating this whole situation like it’s your fault.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Sorry. Why are you treating this whole situation like it’s your fault?”

“I’m not.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest and glare. “I thought you hated lies.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he scoffs.

“Michael, you’re terrified about me leaving your sight and you do anything and everything I ask. It’s okay to feel like it’s your fault, but I need you to know that it’s not.”

“How is it not my fault? It happened at an event that I took you to, it was my father who poisoned you, and it’s because you’re an unwilling part of this prophecy that I dragged you into.”

“Are you your father? Are you the one who made me drink that potion? Did you take advantage of me when you could have?”

“No, I’m not, and I didn’t, but I’m the reason he tried it in the first place!”

The room falls silent, and you watch as Michael’s eyes widen. You wouldn’t have thought anything about his statement in the first place if he hadn’t shown any fear in his eyes, assuming it to just be a blanket statement since Satan’s his father. Now, you’re starting to suspect there might be something more.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re the reason he tried it in the first place?’”

“I-I--” Michael shakes his head as he stammers, taking a cautious step back from you.

“Michael,” you snap, patience running thin.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” He runs a hand through his hair, and you’re shocked at his uncharacteristic use of a swear. “I was impatient and frustrated, and so I sought out my father’s advice for help. I knew it was wrong the moment he gave me a solution, but he was so angry that I even thought about turning down his ‘gift’ that I...I took it.”

“You knew he was going to give me that drink at the Cooperative event?” You’re oddly calm, something that frightens Michael more than any amount of anger could.

“No! No, I knew nothing about that.”

You take your time digesting this information, letting Michael stew in his anxiety as your jaw clenches tightly. “So there was another time, then?”

“Yes, there was.”

Thinking through every interaction you’ve had with Michael in the past couple of months, you can only think of a couple of occasions where he’s acted stranger than normal. Only one of those, however, involved Satan’s ironic choice of apples.

“The day where I had the weird dream that I couldn’t remember, and then you freaked out when I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl,” you say bitterly. “You put that fucking apple there!”

“I didn’t have a choice--”

“Yes, you did. You contacted your father because you were pissed I wasn’t your adoring little wife, you put that apple in the bowl, you watched as I ate what you thought was your father’s gift, and you kept this little secret from me!”

The lights flicker ominously above you, a silent warning to watch yourself before Michael loses control. Today, however, those signs of Michael’s immense powers couldn’t mean less to you.

“I wanted to protect you. The second you grabbed that apple, I regretted even contacting my father in the first place. I assumed that, by not telling you in the first place, that would mean you weren’t living every day in fear.”

“You don’t get to decide what information I should and shouldn’t know, especially when it directly concerns me and my life.”

“I know that, and you need to trust me when I say that I am so, so sorry for the way that this happened.” Michael reaches a hand out to try and physically convey just how sorry he is, but you shove him away as you shake your head emphatically. The tears brimming in your eyes physically cause him pain, and all he wants to do is feel one of your hugs as he wipes your sadness away.

“How do you expect me to trust you anymore? You lied to me and put my life at risk, solely for your own selfish reasons,” you cry out, spinning on your heel and marching up the stairs.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, and I’ll spend every day trying to earn that trust back--”

“No,” you spit, coming to a stop at your bedroom door. “This isn’t something that you can just apologize a few times for and then everything is okay again.”

Michael watches helplessly from the threshold of your room, not willing to go in as you grab a bag and start throwing clothes into it.

“I know you’ve never really seen the dynamics of any sort of a healthy relationship, but surely even you should know that this is not the way that people are treated.”

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?”

You ignore his question, walking into the bathroom before returning with an armful of toiletries. “You say that you’re in love with me? What you did is not love. Love is honesty, and protection, and admitting your mistakes when you make them. Love is not lying to save face, or believing that you know better than the person you claim you love.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says brokenly, hoping to somehow find enough of a gap in your sentences to attempt and repair what’s been broken.

“You’re not supposed to hurt those that you love, and you hurt me.”

“I do love you, and I never wanted any of this to happen!” Now Michael’s crying too, blue eyes stormy as tears trail down his cheeks.

“You don’t love me, Michael. You love the idea of what I’m supposed to be for you. You think that I’m just going to wake up one day and fit into this role that supposedly is mine by prophecy, but I’m not. It’s been almost a year; either release me from this sham of a Satanic marriage or kill me, because I will never be what you want me to be.”

Michael feels like his entire world is crumbling around him as you zip up your bag and toss it over your shoulder. He has to do something to fix this, but it’s as if he’s frozen in place. You can’t even look him in the eyes as you pass, knowing that you’ll lose your resolve if you do.

“Just because your father doesn’t love you doesn’t give you the excuse to have a skewed idea of love.” You pause at the front door, hand on the doorknob as you look back at him. “I need to be alone for a couple of days. Don’t bother trying to contact me, I won’t answer.”

Closing the door behind you, you can hear Michael’s screams of agony as you run to your car and fumble with the keys. The key’s barely in the ignition before you’re driving away, angrily swiping tears from your face to attempt to keep your sight clear.

How could he betray you like this? How could he sit by, hearing you thank him profusely for saving your life, when it was all his fault? Your mind whirls with a cacophony of questions, all of them leaving behind a bitter disappointment.

He’s supposed to be your friend. Up until today, you had thought things were going well, and you genuinely liked your Satanic roommate. Now, you don’t know if you can ever even trust him again. This deception stings more than you would have expected. After all, you used to despise him; why should this hurt you when you had expected the bare minimum? Maybe this is all your fault for placing your trust in a person who should not be trusted under any circumstances.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to register movement out of the corner of your eye until it’s too late, a small deer jumping directly in the path of your oncoming vehicle. Gasping, you slam on the brakes in an attempt to save the animal. Startled by the sound, the deer dashes across the road into the tree-line. You should be in the clear, but a quick rainstorm earlier in the evening has left the roads wet. As the car hydroplanes across the road, you quickly realize that there’s no stopping its path.

The car careens through the deserted road, crashing in the ditch and coming to a stop when it hits a tree. Although you try to brace yourself, the force of the crash overwhelms any strength you may have. Your head smacks against the steering wheel, and though you only lose consciousness for a second, it’s frighteningly disorienting to wake up again.

Your head screams in pain as you lift yourself up, and you can feel a warm liquid coursing down your face. Gingerly touching the source, you examine your fingers and confirm that you’re bleeding. Throwing open the car door, you stumble and land on your hands and knees. When you attempt to stand, the world tilts under your feet, so you settle from crawling away from the wreckage.

Of course this would happen to you when you’re attempting to put some distance between you and Michael. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if this crash was orchestrated by Satan himself to voice his displeasure at the situation. You try your hardest to crawl towards the road, hoping that a lone car will spot you and get help, but your arms give out underneath you and send you falling to the ground.

Staring up at the darkening sky, you can only hope that this concussion isn’t the kind that includes internal bleeding. There’s a chance for you to make your way to safety if you can regain your bearings, but the dropping temperatures make you worry that you’ll be out in the cold all night. Just as you’ve resigned yourself to freezing to death, the sound of feminine voices approaching you gives you hope.

“Over here, help me!” you call weakly, attempting to sit up to see who’s out there.

Four women walk towards you; an older woman with crimped red hair, two blondes, and a brunette. One of the blondes bends down beside you and, instead of calling for help, smiles at you with perfectly-painted pink lips as she strokes your bloodied hair away from your face. You panic as you feel yourself losing consciousness again, wide eyes darting around the group as you try to ask what’s going on. Right before passing out, you lock eyes with the brunette and feel a flicker of recognition.

“Mallory?”

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs apocalypse

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forkanna · 5 years

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[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

"Wow, this place has really gone to the dogs."

Anna and Doc were walking up the steps toward the front doors of Dell Valley High. She really felt silly in the Sears getup Doc had hastily helped her procure: a faded denim miniskirt with fishnet stockings, and the gaudiest top she'd ever seen in real life. A parroting of actual 80s style as interpreted by greedy outlet stores.

For some reason, "Time Warp" started playing in the back of her head.

"Remember, we're not here to sightsee," Doc hissed, trying to stuff more of his hair up into the porkpie hat he thought was 'inconspicuous'. "We have barely over one week in which to figure this out. One week in which to cement the romantic bond between your parents before sending you back home. The lightning will strike the clocktower at precisely 10:04 PM next Saturday, and that is our only window of opportunity to harness its power to-"

"Yeah, yeah," she hissed as they wandered through the halls. It looked so grimy and dingy. After a moment, it dawned on her that it was because of the renovations in 2009; before that, evidently, it had been even worse. Of course it looked bad. "If we don't catch the lightning bolt, I'm stuck here forever, or until you can grab us some plutonium. I got it."

"Good. And I would rather not try for plan B, as I'm fairly certain it would bankrupt me and land me in a federal prison. Now… let me know the moment you see either your mother or your father."

Just then, the bell rang, and Anna backed up to the wall and tried to look busy. It was hard without a mobile phone to check incessantly; she didn't know what to do with her hands. She glanced up out of the corner of her eye until she spotted a familiar face, then groaned.

"There's Dad, alright."

Said "dad" was currently stumbling down the hallway, an armful of books clutched against his chest. Following closely, several boys, all of whom seemed to be… kicking him? As soon as he turned around to have a go at them, it became obvious why: he had a huge 'kick me' sign on his back. Anna couldn't entirely suppress a groan. That actually happened to real people? He had yet to notice her – he was trying to stop the boys, and failing spectacularly. One well-placed kick to his behind had him sprawling across the floor. He stood up as quick as he could, trying to yell at the boys to pick up his books, when a very familiar face stepped into view.

"Mr Weselton?" Anna whispered, more to herself than anyone. "Wow, has he always had that godawful toupee?"

The whole scene was equal parts pathetic and terrifying. No wonder it had taken a car accident for her parents to get together; pity, it seemed, was a fairly strong motivator. Finally – as soon as Mr Weselton had stalked off to harass some other unsuspecting student – she left Doc with a shrug and went over to help him up.

"Kristoff, heeeeey!" she said in a cheery voice, helping to gather his books and papers. She tried not to snort when she saw the words 'Trapper Keeper' on his binder, but then put that out of her mind for the moment.

"O-oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Again, she marveled that he could wind up with any woman, much less Elsa Baines. "What do I- hey, listen, I just wanna follow up on how you're doing. You know, after I saved you from the car?"

No harm in a little guilt. And it did the trick; he dipped his head in shame. "S-sorry about that. What I was doing… I m-mean, you probably want an explan-"

"Birdwatching, right? You had those binoculars." It was the excuse her parents always gave for his behaviour, which she now knew was a total lie. But she did her best to mask her feelings of disgust. "Accidents happen all the time, my friend."

"Right." He smiled very slightly. This was probably the first time any girl had done anything besides curl her lip at him and call him a nerd. "Anyway, I'm doing okay. How about you? I saw you got hit by that car, I w-wanted to help, but… I don't know, that man was so angry…"

"Yeah, no problem, er… dude." He gave a hesitant smile. Maybe this slang thing wasn't as hard as she thought. "Actually, about that. So, the guy who hit me, turns out his daughter goes here. Elsa Baines? And we got chatting, as y'know, us crazy kids do, and she mentioned like… seeing you around the 'hood. I'm just on my way to see her, you should come introduce yourself."

Whoa, reign it in, Anna. But fortunately he hadn't seemed to notice her terrible attempt at adapting and blending in. Instead, the color drained from his face. "You're not gonna tell her about the- the birdwatching, are you? Honest, I just like looking at her – not like that! I didn't- I fell because I didn't expect… to see all that. You know. I swear I've never looked in a window and seen…"

When he literally got too flustered to speak any further, Anna put her hand on his shoulder. "I won't tell if you don't," she said, fixing him with a steady gaze. "But maybe… don't do it again?"

He nodded sharply. "Done. Never happen again."

Well, that wasn't so hard. Anna wasn't sure if it was because Kristoff was trying to be noble or whether he was so wussy that he'd agree to anything; either way, it had the desired effect. Turning on her heel, she began walking down the hallway.

Every parent-teacher interview had begun with a 'sightseeing tour' to her parent's lockers. At the time, Anna had hated it, though now she was grateful because she at least remembered the vague area where her mother's was located. Kristoff was quiet for the most part, but when they neared Elsa and her small group of friends, he suddenly became quite nervous. She felt him tug on her elbow, bringing them both to a stop halfway down the hallway. She hadn't noticed them, and Anna doubted she would if they remained there.

"Is she really… interested in me?" he asked, wide eyes looking at Anna. Not a bad looking guy despite his clothes and haircut. If he had a makeover and a stronger personality, she had no misconceptions that he might be able to get a girl.

She had just started to form an answer, "Of course, you're a catch!" on her lips, when she was interrupted before she could begin. As it turned out, she had been wrong about how inconspicuous they were.

"Tori?!" Elsa cried, eyes lighting up and a wide smile on her face. She took a step forward, seemed to realise how obvious it was, and then took a step backwards to compensate. "Hey, how are you this morning? How's your head?"

A reddish hue had already begun to seep into her skin. It was adorable, and it was plain to see that Elsa was the worst closeted queer person Anna had ever laid eyes on. Her heart fell a little as she imagined what small, insignificant thing she would do that might eventually clue her parents in and begin the homophobic rants that all but beat the rainbows out of her. Stupid 80s and their backwards way of thinking.

"Doing great, great. No pain. Anyway… um, this is Kristoff. The boy I saved?"

"Hey," he said, though that seemed to be all he could get out.

What if she split the difference? Tried to tell a little of the truth without revealing the worst parts. "He was birdwatching, but… I got it out of him that the reason he was by your house is because he keeps trying to work up the courage to… well, y'know."

But Elsa didn't know. Or it seemed like she didn't care, because instead of glancing at him, she walked forward to reach up and gently touch Anna's bruise. "You're sure you're okay, Tori? It's looking a little black and blue now…"

Suppressing a shiver, Anna stepped backward with a shaky laugh. "Y-yeah, fine! So, um… about Kristoff-"

"I was just telling Ariel and Jasmine about you," Elsa went on as if there had been no interruption, barely gesturing to each girl as she introduced them. The ginger with the huge blue eyes kept glancing between her friend and the newcomer, equal parts mistrustful and curious. "How brave you were, and how cool you looked. What was that shirt you were wearing? It had, like, guns and roses on it. Pretty rad."

"O-oh, it's a band." At the last second, she caught herself – how old was GNR? "Up- up and coming. Seriously, they're going to be the next big thing."

This was not going at all how she wanted. The way Elsa was smiling made it apparent that it was going the way she wanted it to, though. Crud. Anna glanced over Elsa's shoulder, looking at her friends. The ginger – Ariel, she thought – was brushing a thin comb through her hair. The other was buffing her fingernails and glancing over at Elsa impatiently.

Come to think of it, Elsa hadn't really mentioned her friends last night, which got Anna curious. Leaning forward, voice lowering to a whisper, she asked, "Do your friends… know?"

Elsa didn't seem to understand at first; when it finally clicked, she looked like she was about to have a heart attack. She finally looked at Kristoff of her own accord, desperate for a distraction; he was looking at his shoes and trying to make himself seem smaller than he was – a feat in itself.

She didn't even need to answer, because that was telling enough. It was probably stupid to remind Elsa of her burgeoning sexuality, because she looked like she wanted to step even closer.

"Of course they know about you." Oh God. "I was telling them how my dad hit you with his car –

how brave it was for you to save your friend Christopher from the car."

"Kristoff," Kristoff interjected, head lifting for a second. Elsa completely ignored him.

"Right, Kristoff," Anna said. Back on task. "He really wanted to get to know you, but wasn't sure how. Because obviously, you look so hella rad." Seeing their blank faces, she went on, "Rad. Just rad. Sorry."

At that point, Elsa finally looked at him for longer than a half-second, but unfortunately he had chosen that moment to glance over his shoulder at a noise that had come from down that hallway. Like a scared little mouse. 'Great going, Dad,' she thought with a wince.

"Well, it's good to meet him. And to see you, Victoria. I really… I want us to hang out more."

"Great! Then we'll hang out more! Right, Ariel, Jasmine? Kris?"

The girls nodded immediately, but she had to nudge her father before he started and yelped, "SURE! S-sure, yeah, it sounds great. I'd love to, um, out-hang."

Just at that moment, the bell rang. Elsa's friends gave her a nudge, but moved past her. Kristoff was already at the other end of the hallway before it had even finished ringing. This was going to be harder than she thought.

Turning away, she was only a little surprised to see Elsa still standing there. She hadn't noticed at first, but Elsa probably looked even better than yesterday. So much denim – but she wore it well.

"Uh, aren't you gonna be late for class?"

Instead of answering, Elsa bit her lip. Her eyes were wide, and her fingers twitched like she wanted something but was too scared to ask. It only took Anna a moment to figure out what: when she opened her arms a little, uncertain, it took Elsa less than that to throw herself into the hug.

As terrible an idea as it seemed, Anna couldn't bring herself to cut it short. Not when she'd been craving such a thing from her mother for so many years: genuine love and affection. Denying her would only mean denying herself.

"I'm so happy you're here," Elsa breathed. "I was afraid that after last night, you'd… y'know?"

"I would what?" Maybe Anna didn't want to know; the idea hurt. That she would abandon Elsa after finding out that she was queer. But maybe Elsa had been through that once before.

"Never mind," Elsa whispered, pulling back and squeezing her hands. "Um, I'd better get to class; I'd cut, but Weselton always jumps out from behind a rock to catch us. Like our own personal Snidley Whiplash."

Though she had no idea who that was, Anna nodded and patted her upper arm. "Sure, yeah. See you after class?"

"Yeah, of course." Elsa hesitated, then leapt forward to ghost her lips over Anna's cheek. "And thanks, for um… for keeping my little secret."

"Our little secret," Anna corrected automatically, before realising that she maybe shouldn't do that. But it was too late; Elsa was already skipping off to class, jean jacket and braid bouncing in her wake. Anna just stared after her, all the way until she disappeared around the corner.

She also shrieked when Doc came up behind her. She'd completely forgotten that he even existed. He ignored her shriek, naturally.

"Astounding," he was saying. "Your mother didn't even spare him a glance. And that look in her eyes… well, the very fact that no one has figured out her sensibilities is an utter mystery."

"Oh god Doc, what are we gonna do?"

But for that question, neither had a suitable answer. They began making their slow way out of the school, brainstorming aloud to each other.

"What do kids even do in the Eighties? That uh… hoop with the stick? Jumping jacks?"

"Please, Future Girl," Doc said. "Those were out of style before even I was a boy. No, we need something…intimate. A social event with no expectations. One where they can get to know each other and have a good time at a somewhat leisurely pace. Currently your mother has no emotional opinion about your father. That needs to change."

"Well, I did say we should all hang out. Maybe go to the mall? And that way, I can start kind of, um, pushing them together." Never mind that she felt guilty about doing that now. Clearly, Elsa was more interested in women, and even if she were going to go for a guy, Kristoff was a terrible candidate.

"That will work for a start." Sighing, he patted her shoulder. "This situation is an unprecedented conundrum, and I don't envy you. But this is of paramount importance. I want you to stay here and keep an eye on those two, while I go back to the lab and work on the DeLorean's starter. I can't take it to an actual DMC dealership with all those components on it, so I'll be doing the work myself, and I'm a scientist, not a mechanic."

Nodding, she turned back toward the school. "Good luck, Doc. I'm… well, I'll do what I can with what I got, I guess. Just hope this doesn't explode in my face."

~ o ~

For the rest of the day, Anna skulked around Dell Valley High, trying to figure out how to do anything to influence the outcome of her parents' relationship. Nothing doing. While in classes, she couldn't even get in there without arousing the suspicion of the teachers, so she was restricted to time between classes, and lunch.

During lunch was when she ran into the biggest, meatiest roadblock of all: Hans.

She was sitting across from Kristoff, picking off his fries and trying to convince him to make the first move in inviting the girls to 'chill out'.

"I dunno. I want to but- well what if they say no?" he asked. "I couldn't take that kind of rejection…"

Anna could understand that – it was why, despite the fact that she knew Jennifer was into her, she hadn't been able to work up the courage to actually ask her out. Still, him mousing around wasn't going to get them anywhere, and she only had a week to keep herself from vanishing.

"Trust me," Anna began. "Once she gets to know you, it'll be true love! But you gotta stop wimping out."

"I know, I know. I just can't help it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she's interested in someone else."

Anna's blood ran cold. How could he know? Did someone tell him? Clearing her throat, she asked in a very small, obviously fearful voice, "…Who?"

"Hah, who else?" He lifted a hand, still staring at his notebook, and pointed at her – no, wait. Somewhere behind her. "Hans."

When Anna glanced over her shoulder, she saw Hans was indeed chatting up Elsa. Not that Elsa was the least bit interested. She actually looked incredibly annoyed, if her scowl and hunched shoulders meant anything. For now, it was just talking, but she already knew that Hans wasn't above getting a little physical.

"Read some social cues, buddy," she told Kristoff flatly. "She'd rather kick him under a bus than go out with him."

"That's not really my, um, field of expertise," he went on as he bent low over his notebook, scratching out a line and beginning to write something above it.

"God, what are you doing that's so much more important than your dream girl?" Snatching the notebook, she squinted at it…

And her jaw dropped in shock. All she had to do was read the line 'She put down the laser rifle and reached for his fur-clad hand' before she got the picture – which was just as well, because then the notebook was being snatched right back out of her hand.

"HEY! That's n-not something I let just anybody read, you know!"

"Kristoff… wow, you write fanfiction?"

But the term seemed to catch him off guard – which was at least enough to cut through his flash of anger. Pushing his greasy locks out of his eyes, he asked, "Fan… what? Do you mean, um, fantasy fiction? I'm more of a science fiction guy… b-but anyway, sorry, I'm just not ready to let anybody read this stuff."

That was interesting. Mainly because her father had literally never said a single word about writing. All her entire life, he only complained about work, doted on his alcoholic wife, and chatted about TV or movies. Other subjects were much more incidental, and never once included that he had a love of the written word; sure, he read, but he never talked about what he read… and Anna hadn't been interested, anyway.

Maybe the rift between her and her parents wasn't entirely their fault.

"Oh. Well, um… I'm sorry. But hey, maybe you could come back to your furry boy and his laser-chick after we take care of Baines over there, right?"

"I don't know why you care so much," he sighed. But then he frowned over her shoulder. "And anyway, it seems to be going fine between them."

Of course, that was the moment that Elsa's voice rang clear through the cafeteria, "Get lost, Hans!"

He didn't. If anything, he got closer. The whole room had become quiet – not silent, but the noise was low enough that now Anna could actually hear what he was saying.

"Aww, c'mon babe. You don't want the school thinking you're a dyke, do you?"

That got her. Anna could see Elsa crumple. Her heart still swelled with pride when Elsa still stood up for herself, despite how much the words had cut her down.

"I said no, Hans. Now get. Lost."

Clearly, he wasn't taking the hint. "Listen you little–"

Anna moved. Hans was even more of a gross pig here than he was in the future and he was not getting away with it; she would have done the same for any woman, even if they weren't as important to her as her mother was. Jumping up, she stalked over to them. Elsa noticed her first, a smile replacing the frown. "Tori!"

"Alright, Fuckboy McDouche," Anna began. Of course that was when Hans noticed her. Standing to his full height, he made for an impressively intimidating feature.

"What did you call me?"

"You heard me!" Then she noticed everyone surrounding them shared his look of confusion. Oh, right; era-appropriate lingo. "Um jerk-face. Yeah! She said to leave her alone, you jerk!"

Oh crud. He took a step forward, hand curling into a fist in front of her. Then, without any obvious reason why he should, he stopped.

"Excuse me?" Mr Weselton had his arms over his chest, bad toupee still wobbling even though he had come to a stop. "Am I to understand that you have reached a new low, even for you, Tannen? Winding up to punch a girl half your size?"

Hans switched gears immediately, smiling that slippery, conniving smile of his as he patted Anna on the shoulder. "Sorry, Teach. I was merely going to remind this girl that she shouldn't call people names. Part of my civic duty."

"If you've ever actually stayed awake through a civics class, Tannen, I'll eat my boots. Now, release the girl before you wind up in detention."

She almost hoped he would do it. Hoped he would punch her, and then end up in detention – or even better, give her an excuse to punch him back. All those years, listening to him make lewd comments about her mother, watching him push her father around…

"Right, right." He leaned in just a little more, saying through gritted teeth, "Sorry." Then he was turning and striding away, his trio of idiot friends cackling and pounding him on the back.

"Tori…" Even as the crowd was breaking up, as Weselton was stalking after them, all Anna could see was Elsa, rising from the bench and away from her two friends, who were staring at Anna as if she had literally stepped out of a Jet Li movie. Or was it Bruce Lee in the 80s?

"H-hey, don't mention it," Anna muttered as Elsa grasped both of her hands. Then a spark of an idea came to her; embellishing the truth slightly. "Actually, it was Kristoff who noticed first. I'd never have seen it happening if he wasn't so worried about you."

However, on the subject of her father, all Elsa had to say was, "Who?"

THAT didn't bode well.

"Oh, y'know, Kristoff…" Her voice trailed off when she turned back and Kristoff…wasn't there anymore. He had beaten a hasty retreat when he could see a fight was about to break out. And Elsa was distracted, anyway.

"That was really brave of you, Tori. No one's ever stood up to Hans before!"

"Well maybe they should. He's only gonna get worse, right?"

Neither had a chance to say anything more because Elsa's friends swiftly came up to them. One of them offered Anna a smile and gushed, "Dude, that was pretty wicked!" It was small consolation when Anna's plans to get her parents making babies kept failing, but hey – at least she wasn't unpopular in the 80s. That had to stand for something. What was the term? She wasn't a square.

"Thanks, babes," she said, cocking her head and pointing a fingergun at them like an overconfident dudebro. They laughed, which seemed to be a good sign. "We're all hanging out tonight, right? At… Twin Pines Mall?"

"For sure!" Elsa spoke for them. As if they would argue with her, given the interest of the other two girls and their clearly 'beta' mentality. Her mom was the leader of the pack, alright.

"Sweet!" Another weird silence. "Sweet… of you to agree! With me! Right?"

Luckily, one of Elsa's friends jumped in. "We could see that new Death Wish, or the new Freddy sequel?"

"To Live and Die in L.A.!" the other friend whined. They all rolled their eyes; apparently, this had been discussed before and nobody else was interested.

"Yeah, sure! Why not?" Anna knew absolutely nothing about any of those. Why were all the 80s movies so violent-sounding? Shaking that off, she pulled Elsa aside to talk to her alone.

"Hey… listen. I know this might be a little weird…"

"What?"

"Kristoff." When Elsa only frowned, she went on, "He's kinda nervous around you, because he likes you so much. So just… I know it might be a lot to ask-"

"Don't bite his head off?" she guessed with a slight smirk. When Anna shrugged, Elsa nodded. "Okay, okay. I'll try to be nice to the nerd burger, but I can't pretend that you're not a lot more… tubular."

"O-oh." Oh wow. Even Punz had never been so forward – and that wasn't even really all that forward anyway!

But the worst part was, Anna couldn't blame Elsa. Not about the liking her part, shocking as it was, but about the not-liking-Kristoff part. As sad as it was, she was starting to see why her family hadn't felt like one for a long time. Why maybe her mother didn't seem to like her children, let alone herself. The jigsaw pieces were falling into place: Grandma Baines, the accident, the lack of options…

If Anna had grown up in 1980s instead of the 2000s, she'd probably try and 'pray the gay away', too. Settle for the first guy who came along who wasn't Hans. Elsa's only choice had been to conceal her feelings and play the role of the straight woman she most certainly was not. Forever.

"Elsa," Anna said, voice barely a whisper. She noticed Elsa's friends lean in a little closer, so taking a risk, she grabbed Elsa's hand, leading her even further away. This wasn't going to be easy… "Look, you can't say things like that, okay?"

Elsa's whole face fell at that simple sentence. "I don't- what?"

Sighing, Anna gritted her teeth and looked away. This situation was so impossible! Here was Anna, a pretty girl straight out of her queer mother's fantasy. How could she encourage Elsa to be herself while keeping herself out of reach?

Fortunately for her, she was saved from trying to speak when the bell rang – she'd never been so grateful for a lunch break to be over.

"I um, I have phys ed," Elsa offered, when Anna didn't say anything. Her head was bowed, and she tried to push past Anna- but her conscience wouldn't let her allow that.

"Elsa, wait." She did stop, and Anna let out a sigh. "I do care about you. This is just really… sudden. Like I said, I have a girl back home, and… and I don't know. But you're definitely a hella- I mean, a wicked… rad… cool girl. Okay?"

Finally, Elsa looked up. She offered a tight smile, but at least it was a smile. "Don't worry. I'll totally be fine. I'll uh, I'll see you at the mall?" she asked softly.

There was such hope in her voice. And- well, it couldn't make it worse, could it?

"Sure," Anna said with a beaming grin she didn't fully feel. "I'll be there."

Smile relaxing slightly, her future mother touched her wrist in an affectionate gesture, and headed off to the gym. Leaving her future daughter wanting to pull her own hair out.

To Be Continued…

#Fractal The Future #fruipit #forkanna writes #elsanna fanfiction #Back to the Future #elsanna

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popculturespiritwow · 5 years

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THE WICKED + THE DIVINE #33: YOUR DERIVATIVE SHIT (AKA TWIST AND SHOUT)

This cover. Black to me signals death, or something awful. And I was certain that we get all-black pages somewhat regularly in WicDiv, but you know, it’s not true. Both when Luci gets “killed” and Laura herself “dies”, we get pages that are black but for two tiny almost exactly duplicated comments.

The Underworld is obviously a land of darkness, and there are two moments – during Laura’s first trip down there and then when Persephone first gets her hands on Woden – where we get a splash page of endless black into which the character is falling.

But the only time in WicDiv that we’re given a non-dialogue-y black page is when Sakhmet takes out her dad in issue 17, and again in issue 28 when she massacres her party people after coming to believe they’re all laughing at her. That last one does give one tiny little glimpse of her, though.

So if there is a “language” to the all-blacks (non haka version) (love you Kiwis), it would seem to be something to do with violence and lost time.

But we’ve already done all the blood and nightmares in this arc, and this issue is instead filled with twists and reveals and honest soul-rending conversation and reunions and new friends and overall kind of a lot of reader satisfaction. So a very different thing.

Another take on the all-black is this is what you put on your cover when you’re terrified anything else will give something away. But for as much anxiety as Kieron talks about in his notes about “keeping the secrets” of this issue (and also his sense of what nonsense that fear is), he and Jamie have never had any trouble obscuring reveals before.

So here’s my thought: Maybe it’s like Disneyland. Disney theme parks are built in such a way that on the way in you have to go through a tunnel of some kind, and before you do you can’t really see inside to all the happy happy joy joy good stuff.

The idea is, Disney wants you to feel like you’re entering into a whole different world than the one you left behind, a better world where you can be happy and spend money and want to take the same picture in front of the castle that everyone else does and still feel like it’s special. And part of that is creating a clear sense of boundary; there was where you were and there’s where you’re going, and the tunnel stands as passage in between.

Maybe that’s why you do a black cover: Not to hide anything or signal violence but to create a boundary, a sense of a passage into something new.

PHALLUCIES

So we begin with the Vibrator as key. I want to say it might be the perfect Gillen/McKelvie image – it’s naughty and seems like a joke and has been sitting there for so long that we no longer think much of it when in fact it is absolutely essential.

Nothing in WicDiv is superfluous, minor or irrelevant. Everything is trying to express something important. (TELL US ABOUT THE VEILS KIERON.)

A bigger question: does the fact that Jon (and not only Jon but the truth about Laura) is released into the story via a phallic device that vibrates have even more to say? Is pleasure or self-care in a sense the key in WicDiv, a path to freedom and life?

Have I not mentioned already I was an English major?

READ ONLY MIMIRY (#SorryNotSorry)

After an arc that seems very caught up in how the characters are all caught up in/pinned down by stories, suddenly out of nowhere we have Jon, this breath of fresh air who sees that path for the garbage it is and refuses it. He will not fit the options Ananke poses, or any duality, thanks very much.

He is the one who builds.

Of course he is then force-wrapped into stories – the Pantheon (I love the horror of his reaction to his ascent), this weird Odin/Thor thing (complete with the nod to Thor’s alter ego Donald Blake) and also the biblical Abraham and Isaac story, the father sacrificing his son to God (now comes with beheading!).

And if I understand the father/son dynamic, as much as Jon sees the Mimir thing for the lie or trap it is, he still can’t quite help himself from being a builder. There are rules he can bend (see: vibrator) but he can’t quite enact a full break.

His call is really quite beautiful. “You walked among your foes for the sake of love,” the spooky Ananke heads say. “Struck down you are raised up, the Sky King’s grandest treasure.” It’s pretty much the absolute opposite of his Dad’s call.

How crazy is it that we’re 2/3rds done with the series, we’ve just been introduced to a major new character (okay we saw him once before but still), and he fits in so well?

Probably we’re being set up for betrayal and heartbreak, but for now I love it with all the loves.

MACK THAT KNIFE

Can we just talk about the knife for a second? Like, how exactly does it work? Clearly it somehow enables the user to disengage the head from the body while keeping the head alive. But whereas with Jon that might have happened literally – put your elbow into it, David! – in the case of Luci, Tara and Inanna Ananke used her signature head pop. So what’s the deal? It’s enough to have the knife in your possession when doing with the murdering, or something else?

Also, post-beheading, we see Ananke referring to Jon as “it”.

Is this because he’s now “just” a living head? Or is this how she actually honestly sees all the gods? It’s um, upsetting to say the least.

Of course so is Woden’s take on things: Jon stole my life (by being born, you horrible human looking meat puppet), so now I get to steal his.

I don’t know how it would have been possible Woden could sink lower in my estimation than he has (#Dio4Vr), but in fact it is and he has.

CASSANDRA VS. THE DESTROYER ROUND II

As much as I love the Jon reveal, the thing that really rocked my world was actually not that but Laura explaining what she’s been going through. I just – this poor girl. And though we still have two arcs to go, in a way this moment is the heart of the series. Kieron seems to say as much in the notes, talking about how the artist lives in this awful reality of getting what they dreamed of, but it involves awful stuff happening to oneself and others.

“I’ve talked about having mixed feelings about WicDiv’s success. Laura’s arc is it writ large. I hate that the definitive work of my career is this. If my Dad was not dead I would not have written this book. There is a guilt and anger that is hard to articulate directly there, and is the material I was mining for this.”

Art is built on suffering and loss—and that means on the back of horror done to others. To wish to be an artist is in a sense to sacrifice those relationships in a fundamental and sometimes literal way, in fact that seems a necessity to one’s success. Being a storyteller may be incredibly nourishing for others, but it’s built on harm done to those you love.

Jesus Christ this is dark. And we haven’t even gotten to the point yet of facing the question that society’s survival is supposedly built on those artists’, those children’s destruction. We love you so much, you inspire us, but what cements that for the century is your deaths.

What do you make of this follow-up moment where Laura suddenly turns it to 11 with Cass?

It only happens after Cassandra calls Laura Persephone for the first time, which seems like it’s meant as a kind of respect. Knowing what she’s been through, she is now worthy of her name in Cassandra’s eyes. She is an equal.

Except it seems to set Laura on the path of what – connection, for sure. But through sex, which is actually more escape than intimacy.

What is “The Destroyer”, in the end? Less a malevolence associated with Laura, it seems to me, than the character of all the gods when they get lost in their stories about themselves.

(More to the point: What the heck is the Machine? Jon says it does nothing. Whuhhh?)

A STEP A HEAD/STOP MAKING SENSE

So, after quite some issues away from it, in the end we return to the heads. Lots and lots of heads. Jon’s head (god that’s a delightful reveal), then Sakhmet’s slice of head – and Minerva – and then finally, the big finish.

I would say my head exploded except I feel like that gag has already been played.

As he has mentioned often in his notes, Kieron loves to hide much bigger reveals within the reveal we know that’s coming. In this case, we knew there was this other Daft Punk member hiding in the darkness somewhere, and we knew there was something up with Laura we needed to hear about.

So we get that and say thank you, and then there’s still four incredible jaw dropping can we please do a happy dance for Luci pages.

Kieron goes into a ton more detail on this writing strategy here, and the particular nightmare challenges posed by this issue. I’ll post excerpts below, but you should read them in full. They are fantastic.

But if I can just ask one question: What the hell happened with Minerva? Am I to believe she did not feel bad about Sakhmet, that she’s that good an actor? Je refuse! And also isn’t the point of the Sakhead reveal that still-Minerva blew it with her fearfulness and lack of skill?

#CRAFTSERVICE: ON TWISTS

Okay… twists.

In reality, for me, it’s a case of once you’ve decided that this is the plot, the only way to do it is dovetail towards an issue like this. Any of these individual beats provide too much connective tissue to the other ones, meaning all must be revealed or none.

(You could argue about Minerva, I suspect. Maybe.)

It’s been strange writing a book like this – when so much is there early on. Seeing who got what and who didn’t, and how people reinforced people has been interesting. That the core WicDiv tumblr community has never really suspected Minerva was off is in some way a surprise – though I’ve had people talk about that directly and personally. Blake/Jon and Minerva-is-Off-In-Some-Way were the two twists I would guard, but their primary importance was in how they led to the Heads.

When Ray Fawkes told me “There’s a reason you’re doing all the decapitations, right?” circa issue 2, I suspected that I’d overplayed the hand by having a literal talking head in issue 3… but it turned out fine.

“Played the hand” is interesting phrasing, and telling. Writing something as intricate as this is like doing a slow-motion card trick, in public, constantly. It is a form of constant stress. I have been paranoid of fucking it up in stupid ways, and it’s impacted every single conversation I’ve ever had about WicDiv. Like just writing one name when I mean another or something. There was a hilarious panic when I added ‘Killer Queen’ to the playlist, just thinking of it as a quite funny Ananke song… and then realised there was only one character in the cast with a connection to the band Queen, and that was Minerva. Should I take it off the playlist? No, someone may notice that, and it’s against my rules anyway. I quickly added a few other things to camouflage it.

As if anyone is watching that closely, y'know?

That’s an extreme example, but an entirely characteristic one. I have lost sleep over it. Even a year ago, I wished I could just get to 33 and not worry about it. When 33 dropped, it was simultaneously excellent (the response was basically what we expected) and an anticlimax (The amount of emotional and intellectual effort you put into doing this is not worth it. It could never be worth it.) I’ve been telling friends that I’ll never write a story that operates like this again. Partially that is because I wouldn’t want to repeat myself, and partially because – as I said above – I think twists are less effective in long-form serialised work in 2017, but mainly as I don’t think I want to do this to myself again. I’ll find some other way to torture myself.

So apparently Mini has been off all this time. I’m stunned by that.

#CRAFTSERVICE: MORE ON TWISTS!

I’d note that setting up twists that *are* easily guessable by the hardcore is part of the methodology. Having a nice big twist foreshadowed heavily is a good way to hide another twist behind it. “Hey – pay attention to this less subtle sleight of hand while I perform the actual sleight of hand over here.”

Oh you’re expecting a big reveal are you, cool cool cool here it is and also SURPRISE.

He talks about this again later, in response to the reveal that Mimir is just a talking head.

When thinking of plot structure, I talk about a few ways to disguise twists. Earlier, I mentioned a Big Twist can make people suspect the twists are over. This is something I tend to think of as a revealed move. As in, you create a machine of logic with a missing part. You add the missing part as late as possible, and then immediately move to what has been concealed before the audience is able to process the new information.

Oh you’re blown away by Mimir are you? SURPRISE, there are three other heads. And also Minerva is not Minerva.

It’s a great insight, too – if you fear one bit of new information is going to naturally lead to others, drop it all right now before they even have time to think about it.

#CRAFTSERVICE: ON WHAT WRITING IS FOR

I know this is a lot of quoting the author, but hey it’s a big issue and the author has some great stuff to say and it is helping me.

How do I actually feel when someone guesses something that’s going to happen? Well, this is long enough already. Let’s put the personal stuff beneath a cut…

I’d say you sigh “Oh, poop” and shrug.

And then you get over your ass, because you know all the above is true. Writers are often megalomaniacs who think they can control everyone’s response to their work. We don’t. We can’t control everything. We can barely control anything. We really have to let go. I’ve said WicDiv is a device to help me improve as a person, yes? It would include in this area. I have to learn to let it go, and internalise all of the above. If I can make most of my readership have the vague emotional response I’m looking for, I’m winning.

Certainly I’ve heard many writers talk about their writing as coming from a personal place. And as a writer myself I’ve had to learn (again and again) that having a sparkly fun idea is not going to be enough to get me up and writing every day, even if people like it. That I need what I’m writing to come from something more specific in me.

But I don’t know that I’ve ever heard an artist talk about their work as well, their work. The journey they’re taking to try and deal with something or figure something out or to let go and get free and be a better version of them. It makes so much sense, and man does it challenge me to have another think about my own work. Because I think most of the time I almost think of the journey as the thing that has to come before the work, the thing that prevents the work – Ima just get my act together and then write this script in fifteen years or so. And reading this it strikes me oh wait, that’s just the thing I tell myself so I don’t have to do the work.

There’s so much more to say about this issue. But it’s taken me the better part of a week to say this much already so maybe I’ll just leave it there. Suffice to say, it’s a giant of story.

(And yes, that’s my exhausted end of words attempt at a Mimir pun.)

I’ll be back next week with the two specials. And then, Mothering Invention!

#wicdiv #kieron gillen #jamie mckelvie #masterpiece theater but with severed heads

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restlessmaknae · 6 years

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Walking on thin ice // III. (Un)stable

Baleful powers and icy hearts collide and no one knows what would come out of it. A girl who doesn’t want to be seen and a boy who desperately wants to be seen.

❄ Pairing: Jack Frost!Yoongi (BTS) x Elsa!Joohyun (Red Velvet’s Irene)

❄ Supporting roles: Joonmyun (EXO) as Santa; Kibum (SHINee) as Easter Bunny; Hayoung (APink) as Tooth Fairy; Mark (GOT7) as Sandman; Yerim (Red Velvet) as Anna; Myungjun (ASTRO) as Daylight

❄ Basics’ post: setting & long summary & cast

❄ Genre: angst, drama, fluff, fantasy

❄ Chapters: I. ❄ II. ❄ III. ❄ IV. ❄ V. ❄ VI. ❄ VII.

As a child, she used to think that having superpowers is such a cool thing. She had read several stories and childhood fairy tales about ordinary people who got supernatural abilities out of the blue. Manga characters that could fly or transform into dragons seemed also appealing as they always won against villains and saved their friends and families, no matter what. They were heroes whom she could look up to and they made her believe that there’s always something good in everything bad.

However, reality was far more terrifying than those stories and having a superpower was no longer a cool thing. In fact, it was the worst thing that could happen to her. She caused more harm than she had ever imagined she would and had to bear more shame than she was able to handle. After a while, she was accustomed to hurting herself – getting bruises and little scratches from time to time – and she got used to the sight of blood on her hands but there was one thing that she couldn’t shake off, no matter how many days had passed. Yerim’s startled and hurtful expression when her fragile body fell to the ground still haunted her in her nightmares when she was even able to sleep. The flashback stung her right at the heart and made her weaker and more cautious whenever she recalled the sorrowful memory. It was like a scary ghost that constantly followed her; even if it couldn’t be seen, she still felt its presence.

Yoongi suggested that she should start worrying less because the more terrified she felt, the more her power responded in such unwanted ways. Freezing a room wasn’t one of her hidden intentions, neither was her hair turning almost completely white. She hated everything that came with her power; it was like her own body was trying to remind her of the consequences.

“Well, blondish white is not a really bad colour,” Yoongi stated one day with neutral facial expression when she frantically noticed that all her locks turned exceptionally light.

It was easy for him. He had been living like that for 300 years but for her it was a whole new world. She couldn’t be bothered to attend her university classes anymore, going back to her flat or visiting Yerim in the hospital. She was undeniably terrified of hurting others, even though she was a work in progress. She learnt a lot from the manga-like Guardian but Mark also taught her how to be patient due to his inability to speak yet she had to understand him one way or another. It was kind of confusing at first because of his his sand images but she got used to it after a while.

Nonetheless, she wasn’t able to see the other Guardians despite her greatest efforts. I mean, who can really believe in Santa Claus these days? Or Easter Bunny. Not to mention Tooth Fairy who I never once believed in. Faith was an interesting one. It was something that showed the real side of people because they couldn’t pretend that they believed in something when they obviously didn’t. And seeing the Guardians was almost like a lie detector; it revealed everything.

Luckily, Yoongi didn’t seem to mind that Joohyun wasn’t able to see the others. Ever since the night she ‘met’ all of the Guardians (and had her first real breakdown), they started to get along pretty well. They weren’t besties though, it wasn’t to that extent. On the other hand, they had significantly less quarrels and they both tried to be more patient with one another. It wasn’t odd when they started talking night after night, after Yoongi finished teaching her and before they both went to sleep. Or at least, Joohyun assumed that the boy was also sleeping, although she never once saw him close his eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Isn’t it boring? Living for 300 years and doing the same thing every single day?” she inquired with genuine curiosity after one tiring afternoon which was full of attempts and fails, laughs and cries, smiles and shouts. They were standing in front of the broken window of the abandoned warehouse, looking at the boysenberry sunset with a little bit of a tangerine-orange sparkling.

It was almost an ordinary scene as the warehouse became her second home and she realized that she was fond of watching sunsets and sunrises. Somehow they gave her hope and testified that a better – and undeniably colder – day would eventually come, no matter what kind of hardships she had to deal with day by day. Yoongi was usually beside her at times like that but it couldn’t bother Joohyun, it rather reassured her. She believed that the reason for that was because he kept her company, so she didn’t have to be alone with her exceptional fear and anxiety.

“To be honest, it’s rather sad,” Yoongi pondered for a thought, with no sign of annoyance in his voice this time. “The more years go by, the more depressed people get. It’s harder and harder to cheer them up and make them believe in us. They don’t even know how desperately they need hope and joy in their lives. They constantly stuck in the negativities and affect their own kids who no longer believe in Santa, Tooth, Sandman, Bunnymund or me.”

His voice was laced with remorse and disappointment, his dissatisfaction and commiseration showing in his icy-blue eyes. They were sparkling with solemnity and reminded her of the Han River before a terrible storm; they displayed both perfect calmness as well as undeniable chaos. It was again a very different image that he was portraying before but there were so many sides to Min Yoongi. She still couldn’t elucidate them all.

“But there are also exceptions,” Joohyun pointed out while her eyes were staring far ahead. The boy had told her about Jamie who helped the Guardians to win over Pitch as he was the only child who didn’t give up on them. It was kind of creepy to know that faith almost disappeared from the world while she hadn’t even known about that. There was a world hidden within the real one which she couldn’t see before. However, after realizing that she was no longer an ordinary twenty-one-year old girl, she crossed the border between the two worlds. After that, there was no turning back.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Yoongi nodded in agreement and his voice was so expectant that she decided to sneak a glance at him. His cheekbones immediately exploded as he didn’t even try to suppress a proud smile. “I’m still surprised that you believe in me. I mean, we were good buddies when you were young−“

“Really?” Her jaw dropped hearing the casual comment of Yoongi who started grinning from ear to ear. She even bounced a little in surprise, causing a hoarse laugh escaping the boy’s mouth. “No way! I don’t remember meeting you before!” she protested and her voice was so subtle that she mentally cursed herself for being so childish. He must be kidding. We couldn’t have met before. If so, he probably can’t remember me.

“Yeah, because you were little and probably thought that I was just an imaginary creature. When kids no longer believe in us, they forget the times we spent together,” he explained with hushed voice and shifted his attention towards the broken window. As he looked out of it, he looked just as fragile as a snowflake shakily falling from the sky.

It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that her heart broke a little. Sadness suddenly approached her and a pleasant kind of bitterness rushed through her body. Out of the blue, she felt sympathetic towards Yoongi because now she understood why he had that kind of mysterious wisdom lingering around him. He had to live for all those years, through wars and famine, deaths and miseries, still trying to give hope for people. Nonetheless, as people grew older, they no longer believed in him and he had to live with his unavoidable fate. He had lost several kids, including Joohyun herself.

“So you know me…” she whispered with awe and didn’t even intend to hide her feelings. Yoongi finally turned to face her and when he did there was a subtle and nostalgic smile on his chapped lips.

“Well, we can say that.”

“Gosh! I was such an awkward kid.” She huffed in slight frustration as the thought flew across her mind. Childhood was something that people usually didn’t like to brag about and she was no exception. She regarded her childhood as the period of her life that if she could, she would like to throw out the window. “I was undeniably a little bit too talkative and I had to wear braces and pink, round eyeglasses. Not to mention that I was whining all the time. Seriously, all the time!” She let out a whimper as she recalled the unpleasant or outright embarrassing memories.

Flashbacks were constantly scrambling in her head, making her remember the times when everything was alright. She used to live happily with a beautiful, adorable mother and a wise and always so thoughtful father. Not to mention the bubbly Yerim who was always gossiping about the neighbourhood kids and cheerful giggling always followed her, no matter where she went.

“You were quite an annoying child−“ Yoongi admitted but it didn’t seem that he was any serious about it, judged by the mischievous smile on his face. Anyway, Joohyun got a little bit offended and didn’t even try to conceal her wrath.

“You are quite a flinty guy.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance and let out a big sigh. She exactly knew that she was way too childish because it was just an act out of defence. If he wanted to comment on her old self, she had all the right to judge his present self.

“But you were still a cute one.”

Her heart missed a beat. Min distant Yoongi just called me cute? What’s wrong with him? She glared at him with eyes wide open but couldn’t say a thing. She was so out of words while her thoughts were scrambling crazily in her head. Her heart thumped in bewilderment, beating so loud that she was afraid Yoongi might have heard it, too.

“And I’m aware of that…” the Guardian admitted as he shrugged his shoulders. As opposed to his emotionless act, his ambivalent feelings could be detected. “I’m such a cold-hearted guy.” He clicked his tongue and ruffled his hair in frustration. She didn’t intend to nag him, the words slipped out of her mouth and it was obvious that she didn’t think it through.

Nonetheless, looking at the boy who was fidgeting and pouting resentfully but wouldn’t even say a single word, she couldn’t help but slightly chuckle. His statement was kind of funny – calling a guy cold-hearted who can actually freeze things – and his offended act was too much to handle. She burst into laughter and couldn’t care less about the frown on Yoongi’s face. He looked quite puzzled and raised one of his eyebrows in question but soon he joined her and they laughed together. Hearing his deep, manly giggle was kind of new for her but she liked the sound of it. He sounded happy, really happy and his laugh triggered chills running down her spine. It was undeniably one of their most joyful moments, even if it didn’t last for too long.

“So how’s your sister?” The Guardian of Winter cleared his throat and shifted his attention to her, his eyes were full of genuine care. His stare seemed to pierce into her soul, even though his words seemed to bite into her.

“It’s none of your business!” Joohyun exclaimed hastily as she was unable to keep her self-defence mechanism at bay. However, after seeing the Guardian’s hurtful expression, she started nibbling her lips. Although she was too stubborn to admit it, she also realized that she acted foolishly. I shouldn’t have said that. It was too harsh.

Yoongi raised his arms in defeat and even took a step back. It looked like she had really scared the hell out of the boy, even though she didn’t want to. It was just her being her usual cautious and defensive self who wouldn’t let anyone get closer to her. In regard to the fact that she hurt the people who were around her, she didn’t want history to repeat itself. Not with him who helped her so much and took her under his wings when nobody wanted to look after her. Joohyun was so thankful to him but as far as she was concerned, it meant that she was even more worried. She wanted nothing more than to keep him safe but she wasn’t good with words, neither with actions.

She drew another sigh and made an attempt to straighten her thoughts. Yoongi was still waiting impatiently – but a little too cautiously – for her reply, hands tugged lazily into his pockets.

“She needs to stay in the hospital for another two weeks. The doctors say that she’s recovering quickly but they have to make sure that she stays that way,” she answered while averting her eyes elsewhere but his face. It would have been a torture for her to look him in the eyes because she might have burst into tears. Doctors were constantly calling her and the positive news kind of reassured her but also terrified her. The fact that she was recovering quickly also meant that they would soon send her home. She wasn’t ready to talk with her because she didn’t know how Yerim would react. Would she scream at her and say that she never wants to see her again? Would she think that all she had seen was just her imagination? Would she believe her? Again. That damn faith. Faith will decide whether my house of cards will collapse or not.

“Well then, that’s good!” He nodded absent-mindedly, his thoughts revolving around something complete different than Yerim.

A rather awkward pause fell upon them after Yoongi’s words. More often than not, Joohyun wished that she could dismiss him and not care about the consequences. Nonetheless, she felt numb from the thought of hurting him like that. Although he was characteristically distant and cold-hearted, nobody could understand her the way Yoongi did.

“You’re still not ready to face her,” Yoongi muttered out of the blue which truly surprised her. His tone wasn’t teasing or even questioning, he simply blurted it out like it was a fact. His icy-blue eyes were just as beautiful as two snowflakes. They contained childish sparkling and blinding hope. Yet, they were undeniably cold and somewhat wise.

Joohyun let out a tired sigh. There was no point in denying what he said, she knew that well.

“No.” She shook her head with a weary pout while her voice still had that hurtful edge to it. “I don’t know what I should do when they will finally send her home. I’m just afraid. Afraid what she would think of me.” She admitted honestly, shifting her attention to the broken window because she couldn’t continue to look Yoongi in the eyes. Not then, not after her confession.

She hadn’t told anyone about her deepest feelings as she didn’t have anyone ‒ besides Yoongi ‒ who could keep her company. Even when they talked, they usually didn’t bring up serious topics because they were both reserved and liked to keep their thoughts to themselves. Though somehow it felt kind of good to finally reveal her fears. She assumed that the Guardian would be able to understand her and wouldn’t nag about it. As long as Yoongi was by her side, she was brave enough to face her fears.

Yoongi tried not to hurt her with his words but he knew what it felt like being left alone. Abandoned like a used toy on the shelves of a teenager and broken like a cassette player after being smashed into the ground. He couldn’t let the same thing happen with another child – even if it was Joohyun’s little sister whom she wanted to protect as much as she could.

“You can’t let her down. She needs you,” he reminded her quietly, his words floating around them like snowflakes in a garden.

“I know she only has me but I’m more afraid than ever. What if she doesn’t believe me?” she shrieked and flung her arms in the air in. Hearing her doubts, Yoongi’s recent playfulness vanished and a more serious look came into his eyes. He probably noticed that being frivolous and shrugging off the question wouldn’t be a good idea. That’s why he carefully pondered over his words before cleared his throat.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.” His voice came out hoarse but the look on his face was as steady as a rock. “Plus, I’ve seen my own family die. Believe me, you should appreciate that you still have a loved one,” Yoongi mumbled suddenly apologetically without breaking the eye-contact.

Joohyun noticed the slight change in his behaviour right away. The change wasn’t in his actions; it was in the way he looked at her. He didn’t budge, he didn’t even fidget or flinch; he was gazing at her while his words hung in the air like a creepy shadow looking for its victim to attack. His eyes changed from icy to midnight-blue, sparkling like stars in the foggy sky. There was something so deep and inexplicable about his orbs. She noticed it the moment they met. Maybe it was the knowledge he had obtained throughout his years as a Guardian or the horrible events he had seen while he was trying to give hope to the people. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what she had seen in his eyes but she was no longer afraid to look into them. They no longer seemed intimidating, merely cold.

Joohyun had to hold her breath for a moment because she was so startled at his sudden confession and change of attitude. She had never seen him like this before; acting so serious and telling such things that acquaintances wouldn’t share with each other. Come to think of it, that probably meant that he trusted her, she wondered. How could I earn that? Trust is a big step when it comes to the matters of the heart. I’ve never thought that he would trust me like that.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered sternly as she suddenly found the floor super interesting. Obviously, it wasn’t but it was way easier to look at the ground than Yoongi’s eyes.

“If it helps, I’ll accompany you when you next go to the hospital,” he offered flatly without a hint of sympathy in his voice. Yet, when she looked up, a soft, sheepish smile was slowly forming on the Guardian’s chapped, almost blue lips. That was the first time she saw that smile of his. It was neither a teasing grin, nor a proud smirk. Instead, it was a reassuring, ‘everything-will-be-just-fine’ smile which she could never ever imagine earning from him.

“That would help a lot.” She nodded firmly and made an attempt to shot him a thankful smile. When he smiled back, her icy heart warmed and beat a little bit faster and a little bit louder. She never thought that Min Yoongi would be able to trigger a reaction like that, it almost seemed impossible after their first encounter. Maybe, he wasn’t a bad guy after all.

Trust isn’t a childish board game; it’s a fierce battlefield. People earn it, lose it, fight for it. Some even die for it.

So now that I trust him, what will happen?

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Lucifer Season 6 Episode 2 Review: Buckets of Baggage

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Lucifer review contains spoilers.

Lucifer Season 6 Episode 2

“The world needs a God.”

What the hell has happened to Chloe Decker? Has the time she’s spent with Lucifer Morningstar over the past five years changed her so irrevocably that she’s willing to break the law to solve a low-level mystery that only indirectly involves the LAPD? The final season’s second episode, “Buckets of Baggage,” offers up an enjoyable romp that awkwardly mixes the world of drag queens with the budding relationship between Ella and Carol. Still an enjoyable story but not Lucifer at its best.

But this is Lucifer, and things can change in the blink of an eye. We suddenly find ourselves in Hell with a completely different storyline and a much darker tone, and though the search-for-self theme still plays the central role in the season to this point, it’s clear that Lucifer’s siblings are not quite ready to cede God’s throne to their fallen brother. Whether the narrative decision to once again revisit the battle among the celestial siblings for ultimate control is the right one remains open for debate, but at least we now have a face to go along with the fishnet stockings and black leather boots. Brianna Hildebrand (The Exorcist) joins the cast as the magenta-winged angel intent on learning what it will take to bring down Lucifer once and for all.

Even though Carol adequately replaces Dan on the LAPD team, Chloe’s ex continues to play a vital role in determining Lucifer’s fate, and what he learns from his latest visitor is what we’ve suspected all along. Lucifer could have rescued Dan from Hell at any point. I’m generally not a fan of bringing characters back from the dead, and while we don’t know what’s actually going to happen here, I am intrigued to learn how Lucifer explains the lie he’s been telling Dan. Of course, that line of thinking also produces a fundamental narrative conflict – Lucifer doesn’t lie which then forces us to re-evaluate the angel’s contention. Dan immediately recognizes the manipulation, so it will be interesting to watch whether he uses his prior knowledge of the human/celestial coexistence to his personal advantage.

On one level it’s become increasingly painful to watch Chloe struggle with her identity after a highly successful career in the LAPD, but any time she and Maze get together, literally anything can happen. On the heels of Linda’s suggestion that Eve consider her impending life as the Queen of Hell’s partner, it’s obvious that life in the Silver City may not provide Chloe the type of challenges she needs. She hasn’t admitted that to herself yet and uses Maze to channel the buried hostilities regarding her future life. Still, the trashed apartment scene plays nicely against the opening scene in which Chloe and Lucifer wreak havoc in the penthouse during a vigorous sexual encounter. The two events are not dissimilar and speak to Chloe’s emotional turmoil.

Nevertheless, it’s Lucifer’s inability to commit to a life of selflessness that dominates the season to this point, and while it’s commendable that he sets out on a quest he thinks will ultimately qualify him to replace his father as God, more and more it seems he’s simply stalling for time. There’s a lot to like about Scott Porter’s portrayal of Detective Carol Corbett, but the dynamic interplay Lucifer enjoys with Dan just isn’t there. That said, when they go to the drag club to interview Busty Bazoongas, it provides Tom Ellis yet another opportunity to play the piano and sing, and per usual, he does not disappoint performing a smoky rendition of “The Lady is a Tramp.” Obviously, it’s a totally different set of circumstances now, and perhaps we just need to let Carol and Lucifer work things out.

While it’s true Lucifer has undergone a significant amount of personal growth during his time on Doctor Linda’s couch and his work with Team Lucifer at the LAPD, it’s beginning to feel as if this quest is simply a well intentioned act of futility. Nonetheless, there are some wonderfully funny exchanges that relate to Lucifer’s dilemma. “We argued like trailer trash in a Walmart parking lot on Black Friday,” Busty tells Lucifer before launching into a speech about facing one’s fears. And that does seem to be the crux of Lucifer’s problem; he doesn’t truly believe he’s capable of doing the job that needs to be done, and the closer he gets to ascending, the more terrified he becomes. Again, not dissimilar from his prior inability to tell Chloe he loves her.

Though it’s completely unfair and somewhat inaccurate to label Ella’s character as a supporting player in the overall arc, her role as Lucifer’s conscience now becomes even more of a driving force in this final season. She battles her own residual relationship demons, yet avoids a true crisis of faith and unwittingly forces Lucifer to question his own motivations and desires. On Linda’s couch, Lucifer clearly understands his own personal crisis. “How is it possible to care about all of them?” he asks, and it’s possible he already knows the answer. He can’t. As Carol interrogates his first suspect, Lucifer ironically intrudes in his selfish desire to help the detective he claims to dislike. “This is the voice of God.”

Lucifer’s fear ridden confession to Chloe that he may not be cut out to be God reveals a lot about where the series may head in its final leg. In the episode’s opening scene, Chloe responds to Amenadiel’s concern that no one currently sits on God’s throne. “Is the universe collapsing? Are frogs falling from the sky?” she tells Lucifer’s brother in an attempt to deflect from the true issue at hand – Lucifer’s reluctance to ascend and become God.

As we follow Carol and Ella leaving the theater after their date at a Jackie Chan film, we’re momentarily distracted. Have we ever seen her in a dress? “It’s the best date I’ve ever had,” he tells her before kissing her on the cheek. It appears to be a simple setup scene for the cute couple’s burgeoning relationship. Instead, we return to Chloe’s assertion in the opening scene. “Hey, if you’re still up there,” Ella says, “thanks.” And then a frog fortuitously falls on her car. Does she see this as a sign from God? Is the universe, in fact, collapsing?” Regardless, behind the scenes machinations are underway, and Lucifer’s path to God’s seat has gotten infinitely more precarious.

Though the season premiere makes it abundantly clear Lucifer is having second thoughts about becoming God, it still provides enough indications that eventually we’ll see him taking on the Big Guy’s job. “Buckets of Baggage,” however, reminds us that even the celestials suffer many of the same concerns as their human brethren. Still, even though he’s dead and in Hell, Dan may hold the key to humanity’s future.

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wingletblackbird · 7 years

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You Just Stand Right Back Up

Prompt: Absent

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Owen questioned his foster-son who was looking down at his feet which were scuffing the ground. “I’m waiting, Luke.”

“Can’t I just learn at home, Uncle? With Aunt Beru?” Luke plaintively replied, barely even glancing up at his uncle. Owen just sighed.

“You still haven’t explained yourself, son. Why haven’t you been in school the last few weeks? I shouldn’t have to find out from your teacher that you’ve been absent, Luke. Why haven’t you been in class?”

Owen was utterly at his wits end. Luke had always been a strange child to raise. When he had been really small, too young for him to remember it now, he’d had an imaginary friend he called his “sister.” Beru had indulged him, of course, and thought it was sweet. Owen had rolled his eyes, and shaken his head a lot. He hadn’t understood how you could talk to someone who wasn’t there. How could anyone, even a two year old, insist someone was there who wasn’t? Still, Beru’s nieces, and nephews had gone through similar phases, even if they weren’t so odd as Luke so apparently that was normal. Either way, a kid’s phase didn’t explain how Luke could answer questions you’d just begun to think, or how he would tell you he was sorry you were so sad when he had no business knowing what someone was thinking, or feeling with the uncanny insight that he did. It didn’t explain how he knew when a storm was coming, or when he thought someone was lying. Luke always just seemed to know. There was no explanation for a child knowing like that. Luke also had very vivid dreams. Owen was fiercely glad that he at least had Beru to help him with this. Beru always seemed to know how to nurture Luke through all his, Owen hesitated to say insanity, which allowed Owen to try and teach Luke the more important things in life. One of these was how to keep your head in the present, to stay grounded in reality. The boy was far too much a dreamer. Sometimes, oftentimes, Owen just didn’t know where Luke went.

These days that was literal. His teacher had come to visit them at the homestead today, and that was how he, and his wife, had found out that their nephew had just upped, and stopped going to school. She’d asked them if there were issues on the farm, or if Luke was sick? It had been beyond embarrassing to explain that they actually didn’t know where their five year old boy was, and Owen was far past done finding out.

“I can do it!” Luke looked up determinedly. “I have been studying Uncle Owen. I take my datapads with me, and I study in one of the caves I found. I swear. You can test me, please, please, please—“

“Enough, Luke.” Owen interrupted harshly. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. I don’t want to hear how smart you think you are, because if you’d really been smart you wouldn’t be back-talking me like this.”

Silence reigned: A stubborn, angry silence.

“If I don’t get an answer, Luke, you won’t see your starfighter toys for a month.”

Luke looked up again seeming terrified. Why he was so fascinated with models of ships bemused Owen too. It was utterly useless, and such a flight of fancy, (pun quite intended, thank you), but if it got Luke to talk…

“They don’t like me there.” Luke said quietly, but with undeniable pain and sadness, as he backed up to sit on his bed.

“What do you mean they don’t like you?”

“Promise you won’t get mad.” Luke gazed up at him wide-eyed. He seemed to be holding back tears. Owen tried not to show it, it wouldn’t do for the trouble-maker to get any ideas, but it did soften him.

“I promise I won’t get madder than I already am at you, Luke. Why don’t they like you?”

“I dunno.” Luke mumbled, and shrugged, refusing to look at him again. “Teacher introduced me to the class, and said my name was Luke Skywalker, and people started whispering. Then, after, when teacher was gone they said I must be real stupid, because only stupid people are slaves, and I told them I was freeborn, and proud of it, and that wasn’t true, because Dad and Grandma were smart. That’s how they got out. Right?” He looked up searching for approval. Owen nodded.

“Then this big boy comes up, forgot his name…” He looks up shiftily, and Owen was sure this was a lie, but elected not to press it. “He shoves me down, and says his father was killed trying to rescue Grandma, so obviously she was stupid, because she got caught by Tuskens, and I’d better not be stupid like that too, because I was slave-spawn, and I got mad and shoved back, but he was so much bigger, and everyone was watching, and no one cared he was doing it.”

Owen moved to sit down next to his nephew. The bed frame creaked.

“This happen a lot?” he asked gruffly.

“Yeah,” mumbled Luke. “Every day, really. Then this girl, Camie, started calling me Wormie, because she said I was like a sandworm who curls up when something scary happens, ‘cause I’m a coward, and I stink, and now everyone calls me Wormie.”

“I see.”

“So, I just…stopped going. I mean, they don’t want me there, and I can just learn by myself like I used to do with Aunt Beru. Couldn’t I, Uncle Owen?”

Luke had turned his head, and was looking at his uncle with an impressively penetrating stare for a young boy. The depths of the blue revealing cornered desperation. Owen sighed again, and shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Luke. You can’t teach yourself everything and Beru can’t teach you all of it either. You’re smart, and that’s why we agreed you’d go to school. It doesn’t hurt to get to know some kids your own age, either.”

“Yeah, it does!” Luke responded vehemently looking mutinous.

“Yes, maybe it does.” Owen continued undaunted. “But, that’s part of what you have to learn, Luke. People aren’t always going to like you. People are going to be mean. You need to learn how to handle that.”

“But…”

Owen held up a hand to forestall the many objections.

“Your grandmother was a very brave, and kind woman. People, and life kicked her down, but she kept standing back up. Sometimes you lose, Luke. Sometimes crops fail. Sometimes you get beat up, and you’re definitely going to lose people you care about. That’s just how it is. Life’s harsh. Best you learn that quickly. Being really brave, and really strong is getting up again, and again, because that way even if they kick you down, they still don’t win, because they can’t keep you down. That’s really what it means to be tough, Luke, and you’re going to have to learn it sooner rather than later.”

“I guess…I just…” Luke trailed off. “I dunno.”

“Well, we’ll just go to your teacher tomorrow, and talk to her about what happened and-”

“No!” Luke interrupted looking trapped. “Uncle Owen, you can’t. They already call me Wormie, and think I’m weak. I don’t want them to think I squealed too!”

“You ran away.” Owen said tonelessly, but dryly.

“Did not.” Luke muttered petulantly. “I just didn’t want to study with them is all.”

“Still, you have to. Listen to me, son. Look at me.”

Luke did.

“You’re the first freeborn Skywalker. That means that you’re free to choose what you want to do, and what you don’t want to do. No one owns you. Those boys and that girl can’t tell you not to go to school, and they shouldn’t be able to scare you away either. You’re allowed to be there just as much as they are. If they want to pick fights they can, but you’re going to stand your ground like man, and go right back, you hear me? You cower to no one.”

Luke nodded.

“Good. Now, I get your point about your teacher, and clearly she doesn’t seem to care about what the kids are doing to each other anyway, so I’ll teach you a few pointers, okay? And we’ll talk to your cousins about looking out for you at school. We can go tomorrow and then-”

“But, I don’t want them to think I’m soft.”

“You’re not soft, Luke. You’ve been ganged up on, and this family sticks together. Your cousins are in an older class, but they can definitely help you out now that we know. That’s what family does, Luke. You know you’d do the same for them. Family’s all we’ve got on this rock. It’s the most important thing. You hear me, Luke? You never turn your back on family.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ll sort this all out tomorrow then.”

“Alright.”

“And next time something happens, you come straight to your Aunt and me.”

Luke nodded again, and Owen took a long firm look at his nephew who looked resigned to the decision, but not quite so desolate as before. Owen decided he’d made his point, and wrapped an arm around his boy.

“You’re smart and you’re talented, Luke. I might not get where you’re coming from most the time, but I do know that. They’ll say all what they want about you being stupid, and weak, but you’re going to show them all up, and no one’ll ever be able to believe a word they say, because you’ll show them different. Don’t let it keep you down, son: You just stand right back up.”

Luke nodded his head frantically, and buried himself in one of his Uncle’s rare embraces.

“I will. I promise.”

#starwarsfictober #Star Wars Fictober #Luke #Owen #Fic #Absent #Never done Owen's voice before #and he's such a minor character #Hopefully it sounds semi-sensible

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