#apparently it used to be like a whole thing in the art community that thick lineart is ugly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tfwlawyers · 3 years

Note

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

#bluefaewren #replies #parent trap au #attempting to write tag

138 notes · View notes

sapphirelass · 3 years

Text

Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister!Reader

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant.

Word count: ≈ 2400

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/C) - Your hair colour

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister (Y/N) were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas (Y/N) took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and (Y/N)’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, (Y/N), her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

During the start-of-the-year feast, the small group of friends quickly realized that something was wrong. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - Dolores Umbridge - was a ministry employe, which was weird on its own, but the way she spoke, acted, and kept interrupting Dumbledore with shrill, irritating *hum hum*’s made them all feel queasy.

After a quiet discussion in the common room (and quite a bit of loud arguing between Harry and Seamus Finnigan), they went to bed, yawning, and not exactly looking forward to that year’s first period of DADA.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and (Y/N) shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and (Y/N) with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels - OWLs” she started. “Your previous teachers in this subject have all been quite questionable choices, however this year things will be the way they were meant to. Open your books on page 4.”

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

“Ha!”, laughed Umbridge, “And who exactly do you think would want to attack a helpless child such as yourself? Besides, the education you will receive will be more than enough for you to pass your OWLs, and that is after all just what school is about.” She finished with a smirk, looking rather satisfied with her speech.

(Y/N), who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though!

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“School isn’t solely about receiving good grades! It’s about preparing the students for life, and supplying them with the tools and knowledge necessary in order to succeed and improve. If we’re not going to do that, then why, may I ask, is this a mandatory course? It’s already starting to seem rather pointless to me.”

Harry was perplexed. How his sister always managed to, 1: use her words in such a remarkable way, and 2: remain calm through the most infuriating of situations was a mystery to him, however he turned his gaze back towards Umbridge, waiting for her reply.

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired (Y/N), pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

(Y/N) flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. (Y/N) could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. (Y/N) threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“(Y/N/N)!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and (Y/N) knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice.

“Sorry…” (Y/N) mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave (Y/N) a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “(Y/N), did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated (Y/N) simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as (Y/N) sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when (Y/N) stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

(Y/N) turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. (Y/N) took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

(Y/N) apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as (Y/N) reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

(Y/N) grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when (Y/N) slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero.

She watched the thick, red liquid disappear down the sink and let a few tears fall, before grabbing some paper making sure no tears or blood could be seen. She had to make it through the common room up to the dormitories quickly though, since she was sure Harry would be able to tell she’d been crying, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Sure, she could just tell him, but something inside her argued against that. He had been rather angry and distressed all summer, and she knew he wasn’t feeling much better now. Harry had enough to deal with without handling her problems too.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side.

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night (Y/N/N)”

She didn’t answer…

***

The following morning, he found her at the breakfast table, slowly digesting a tiny portion of porridge. She was wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers underneath her cloak. He knew, because it was far too big for her, and the sleeves reached down to her fingertips.

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her (Y/H/L), (Y/H/C) hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“(Y/N/N)!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall.

***

A week or so later Harry had had enough. It was in defence against the dark arts, on a rather cold Tuesday afternoon that he finally snapped, and shouted at professor Umbridge, who seemed almost too happy for a reason to give him detention.

The gang sat, yet again, around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, when Harry suddenly left and climbed through the portrait hole. He came back a few hours later, a downright furious look on his face, and walked straight up to his sister without even noticing the ghost he had stumbled through. He looked down at her smaller frame, his quidditch jumper yet again pulled over her head.

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing (Y/N) to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“(Y/N) - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin.

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. (Y/N) was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years.

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Without thinking, Harry was just about to shout at her for keeping something like that from him, when he noticed that she was crying. Soft, quiet sobs that she were clearly trying to hide. It felt as if all his anger simply washed away, and he crouched down and took her hand in his.

Harry’s hand was still covered in blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it, but had instead taken the shortest way to the common room, after realizing what had happened. Raising his right hand, he pulled her closer and felt her lean her head on his chest. They sat like that, arms wrapped around each other, for hours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

#harry potter #harryxsister #harry potter x twin #harry potter x sister #harry potter x sister!reader #harry x reader #harry x sister!reader #umbridge #detention #hp #hp imagine #stories #sister #siblings #twins #harry x sister

306 notes · View notes

whentheynameyoujoy · 3 years

Text

So the ATLA Movie Is... Good, Actually?

Just kidding, of course it’s not, it’s so bad it sucked the paint off my walls. But after ten years of people pointing out its glaring flaws, why would anyone bother talking about this garbage heap if not to go the other direction? So here’s a very brief and very superficial list of things the movie does get kinda... not atrociously wrong.

And they won’t be fake hipster pokes, like “It’s fun to laugh at”, “The Rifftrax for this is OK”, or “Kudos to the actress for managing to say we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in theirs with a straight face”.

(though now that I mentioned it, it is fun to laugh at, the Rifftrax for this is OK, and massive props indeed.)

Rasta Iroh

Yes, I know it’s not exactly the aesthetic of the real Iroh or that it makes no cultural sense for him to sport this do when no one else in the racebended Indian “OMFG what were you thinking Shyamalan” Nation does but goddamn, long-haired dudes are my one mortal weakness and I will ogle the hell out of him.

Jesus is that a man bun I see that’s it mum I’ve been deaded

Yue’s hair

No.

Now we’re talking. Yue’s hair turned white when the Moon spirit gave her life, so it makes sense for it to go black again when she sacrifices herself to revive the koi fish. It’s a neat detail I find myself expecting whenever I rewatch the scene in the show. Yes, I realize it’d be a pointless hassle to animate since she, unlike in the movie, immediately goes on to become the Moon herself but still. I like.

The Blue Spirit’s mop

Zuko, hun, what’s with the dance-off?

First of all, I want to imagine that Zuko the Theatre Nerd was about to leave his ship with just the mask like in the show but then stuck his head into the cleaning cupboard and went, “Yeah, more coverage might be good, even though it do seem mighty fried to shit”.

Which makes me giggle. I like to giggle.

And secondly, the hair’s movement is what makes the static mess of the Blue Spirit’s solo fight scene appear at least bit more dynamic because God knows the cinematography isn’t doing it.

Any particular reason why it’s at the edge of the action, shot all boring-like?

Now, I get why circular shots would be reserved for Aang while he’s in the practice area and then used once the two join forces. What I don’t get is why Aang’s part of the action scene has a defined visual style while Zuko’s delegated to a few stationary wide shots from afar as though he’s a tertiary goon, meaning that when the time comes to combine the respective pieces of cinema language and visually convey collaboration, there’s not really much to combine.

But as long as Zuko is stuck in this static mess, it’s that awesome disaster on his head flopping about that draws the eye, helping me understand that something even is going on over there.

It also prevents me from paying much attention to how the extras are mostly just staying put and a lot of the hits don’t land, so that’s good.

The music slaps

James Newton Howard is too good for this.

youtube

Pls ignore that the word “gods” is used in the ATLA universe

I can’t be the only one who constantly uses this piece to daydream about writing specific fanfic scenes instead of, you know, actually sitting down and writing them. It’s just so good at communicating a sense of sorrow while speaking of rebirth that I find myself getting misty-eyed whenever I listen to it. Unfailingly, the soundtrack as a whole manages to break through the mile-thick crust of horrible acting, confusing writing, and uninspired cinematography and make me feel things. And considering how everything on screen is working against it, that’s no small feat.

Imagine what a powerful experience it would be if the score was used in service of an actual movie.

Dev Patel

No wonder since he’s the only one in the film occupying that crucial intersection between “is a good actor” and “was given something to work with”. It also doesn’t hurt that he breaks with the trend of actors starring in martial arts flicks despite never having done any martial art.

And all EIP-jokes about “stiff and humorless” aside, he’s a pretty decent Zuko considering how abridged this version of the character is. A while ago, I remember hearing a reviewer say that with his comedic chops, Patel should have been cast as Sokka. And on one hand, yes, god, absolutely, I need to see that asap. But on the other? He captures all layers of Book 1!Zuko, the desperate obsession, rage, and self-loathing, and at the same time gives you a peek at the soft momma’s boy dork that’s buried underneath. For Christ sakes, he exudes intensity and ambivalence even when acting against an emotionless hunk of wood that’s giving him nothing in return.

Oh, and I guess there’s a tree in the frame.

Ba dum tss

What can I say, the guy’s good.

Showing vs telling

OK, so this movie is all tell and no show, except for one single moment. And it’s the exact moment where the original goes in the other direction in terms of how information is conveyed.

See, I never liked this. The revelation is preceded by Iroh giving advice to Zuko who scolds him for nagging. Iroh then apologizes, moves in to say the line above, and is interrupted by Zuko who seems rather uncomfortable with Iroh laying his feelings out like this. And once they’re out, Zuko verbally confirms that he knew already and Iroh didn’t need to bother.

All this extraneous information and pussyfooting ends up weakening what should be a profound scene that reveals to us, the viewers, how deep the relationship between these two in fact runs.

Compare to the movie where Dadroh acts like a parent by fussing and worrying, with Sonion needing a single look to tell him and us that he understands what it’s all really about.

It’s genuinely efficient and just good.

No Cataang

Fine, a bit mean-girl bitchy from me since I only start minding the ship in Book 3. And probably unintentional on the part of the creators since there are moments where I think they’re trying to set the romance up? There’s a, well, an attempt to recreate the famous introductory shot of fateful meaningful destiny of meaningness, there’s some slight note of saving each other’s bacon going on, I’m pretty sure they’re the only ones in the film who smile, and oh, right, Katara’s shoved into her post-canon useless role where she doesn’t ever do anything, and is all about Aang right from the get go.

Yes, I will blame the “executive producers” because a) I’m incredibly petty, and b) it’s perfectly in line with their vision of the character so why the hell not.

Hilariously, none of it reads on screen because the actors are just... yeah. These poor kids are struggling so much with delivering their own lines and portraying their own characters they don’t seem to have any strength left to create something between them. To be fair, the bare-bones shot-reverse shot style of their scenes doesn’t exactly lend itself to the idea they occupy the same universe, let alone are friends or each other’s crushes.

And I enjoy this immensely because it allows me to forget the depressing horror show Katara’s life turns into post ATLA.

Yes Zutara

I need to delve into this because it’s fucking hilarious. So in a movie which fails to establish the original’s central romance so spectacularly that if Aang got lost in a crowd I don’t believe Katara would notice, SomEOnE thought it’d be a good idea to add an utterly unnecessary non-canon moment where Zuko for some reason feels the need to pause his character-defining hunt for the Avatar which otherwise has him ignore everything and snap at everyone, and explain his central conflict to an unconscious peasant he doesn’t know, complete with gently pushing the hair from the pretty girl’s the soulmate’s the Water Tribe Ambassador’s the Fire Lady’s the love of his life’s her face away, AFTER his uncle nagged him twice to find a girl and settle down.

I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page and this is what we really saw.

Celibate Avatars

I have no idea why the decision was made, if TPTB thought expecting viewers to understand the story through the lens of Buddhism would be too much, or if the “executive producers” already worked their retconny magic. What I do know, however, is that there’s a big shift in worldbuilding and Aang’s struggle with his role as the Avatar stops being a personal conflict defined by a) his grief for Air Nomads, b) his notion of being robbed of the loved ones in his life, and c) the selfish attachment to Katara he confuses with true love. Instead, what he has a difficulty to accept is apparently a general notion of who Avatars are supposed to be, i.e. a fantasy version of Catholic monks, no family and worldly relations, period.

I guess either someone understood the original’s portrayal of de/attachment as “hermit no freaky”, or thought the audience would so why not go there outright.

Now, do I like this on its own? No, God no, it makes the world infinitely poorer and changes the story from an exploration of ideas which aren’t all that ingrained in the West, to a cliché tropester about a Catholic priest going Protestant so that he could be with a girl.

At least I assume that’s where they were going to take this eventually.

I mean, I think the direction was “look conflicted, this isn’t the final stage of your journey”?

But consider this—the show went there, it built on the concepts of Eastern philosophy and touched upon the ideas of spiritual awakening, only to swerve in the end and strongly imply they’re bullshit and Aang should have never wasted his time with them.

So honestly, I much prefer scanty worldbuilding to an insulting retcon by a damn rock.

Multiracial Air Nomads

Probably the most substantial “no hint of irony” point on this list and a genuinely good addition to the universe’s worldbuilding.

See, the notion of the elemental nations being perfectly separate and never mingling before Sozin has always been sketchy but it’s especially ridiculous in the case of airbenders. It never made sense to me for all airbenders to be Air Nomads and for all Air Nomads to be monks and for all monks to be chilling at the temples all the time to facilitate a quick everyone-dies genocide should an imperialistic warlord ever decide to commit one.

Because committing everyone to a single way of life at a handful of places kinda goes against the central philosophy behind airbending. Like the freedom and nomadism part.

Instead, there should be more variety to the airbending culture, with some staying at the temples as monks, hermits, and teachers while others live as nomads, travelling the world and creating more airbenders, with the resulting children in turn being influenced by the non-airbending cultures they grew up in.

And thus, not only should airbenders not be modeled after a single culture to create a one-size-fits-all lifestyle, but they should have the most diverse and dynamic culture out of the four nations.

And it’d be precisely this diversity which would pave way for an eventual reveal that some of them survived, that their complete extermination is impossible.

Because they’re everywhere.

You know.

Like air.

#atla #atla movie #zutara #anti bryke #dev patel #the last airbender #anti-kataang

172 notes · View notes

cybernaght · 3 years

Text

Guardian rewatch: Episode 5

I thought this would be a shorter recap. Ha!

Every now and then throughout this show we are getting CGI wide shots of the Dragon City, mostly establishing the time of day. They have three settings: nighttime, daytime, and sunset/sunrise. While quality-wise those wide shots would not feel out of place in a video game from ten years ago, with buildings looking all rubbery, I actually really like this sunset sky. I also appreciate that they firmly establish that this is city is not, in fact, a real place. I almost wish the architecture was a little bit less familiar, but making the city look truly otherworldly here would make location scouting much harder. As it happens, the buildings on the forefront have a very 60’s art deco revival inspired feeling, and there are some distinctively neoclassical buildings peppered around as well. We can also see that the roads are very wide, and generally there is a hint of Stalinist grandioseness about the downtown. Unfortunately, it looks nothing like the locations and sets the characters are running in; we also get a feeling that the Dragon City is very large, which is not entirely consistent with the very few locations that were available when shooting the series. This shot does, however, remind me the city I grew up in (Moscow).

The actual plot of the episode centres around Huang Linqi and his fiancé, Li Jiaqi, going missing - it will be important, because their disastrous wedding will produce the most Clark Kent moment that Shen Wei will ever have. We also meet the parents of the couple, who are stinking rich and extremely unpleasant. It also introduces us to Butler Wu (Wu Tian’en) and his son, who will become important in later episodes. Butler Wu is not actually the villain of the piece, despite this shot clearly telling us otherwise.

Back at the university, Shen Wei is having a morning tea with his dean. He holding his teacup with almost god-like elegance, very close to actually covering his mouth when he drinks, which is extremely old-fashioned. This is in stark contrast with him brazenly and un-gentlemanly showing his ankles.

Shen Wei is asked to move off campus, because, apparently, having a chief of the special task force showing up at your office is bad for the reputation. Since the professor does not look surprised, and states that he has already found a flat, I’m guessing that he was clever enough to have predicted this turn of events, and used it to secure the place a breath away from Zhao Yunlan. It is up to speculation as to when he started scouting for an apartment: it could not have been more than a few weeks since he met Zhao Yunlan, and finding a flat can take a while.

At the SID office, we are treated to a lovely moment between the team members, crowding around Lin Jin’s new invention: a popcorn-specific microwave.

It’s very sweet to see the team indulge in some nonsense outside of their case work, made even better by Wang Zheng being there. The fact that Zhao Yunlan is on board with his department’s time and resources being spent on a popcorn maker only makes this scene better. He is crouching on the table, because chairs are for the weak.

After inspecting the crime scene, Zhao Yunlan is spending some time outside chatting to Buttler Wu, and comments on Li Jiaqi’s good looks, since Zhao Yunlan is a man who can appreciate beauty.

As Xiao Guo is awe-struck at his boss’ ability to note someone’s prettiness from a distance, Chu Shuzhi literally rolls his eyes calling those “instincts of a beast”, and Zhao Yunlan fails to reprimand him for the remark, because… fair enough. Very fair enough. It’s hard not to relate to Zhao Yunlan, a self-admitted bi disaster.

Shen Wei is being shown his new apartment. He does not even look around it, staring instead at Zhao Yunlan’s front door across the hall from him.

Moving here is a completely senseless thing to do. How on earth is he planning to hide his Hei Pao Shi persona while being a next door neighbour to the chief of SID? My conclusion is that from a character stand-point, it’s nothing but an act of desperate devotion; from a narrative stand-point, this codifies that their relationship is about to get very intimate indeed.

The SID members are interrogating Buttler Wu: as is often the case, instead of bringing him in, like they did with Shen Wei, they hijack a cafe nearby to have a more relaxed conversation. As they talk, Shen Wei is making his way past the cafe, which both Wu Tian'en and Shen Wei notice.

Shen Wei proceed to follow Butler Wu, who calls him out on it. This leads to a removal of his glasses so epic it warrants a jump-cut to close-up, on top of the dutch angle used mere seconds prior to it.

Instantly recognizing Shen Wei as Hei Pao Shi, Wu Tian’en sinks to his knees in reverence. Again, fair enough. After having a brief conversation about their shared history, Shen Wei states that Butler Wu is not allowed to lay a hand on Zhao Yunlan.

“Chief Zhao? You’re stalking him?”

“You don’t need to know more.”

That is not a no. Mostly because that is a yes.

Shen Wei promises to not take Wu Tian’en away before the man resolves his current problems, adding that he hopes his old acquaintance won’t have any regrets when that happens. As Shen Wei walks away, he muses “Then how much time is there left for me?”

(And I have to fight an uncomfortable sinking feeling in my stomach, which is occurring a lot as I rewatch those series.)

The same evening at the SID offices the team is struggling with the case so much Da Qing suggests asking Hei Pao Shi’s help. Zhao Yunlan bristles at the idea, and… calls Shen Wei instead. Of course he does.

To be fair, he does so to check whether the other man is stalking him, but he also calls him by his given name rather Professor Shen, reinforcing that he makes this enquiry as a friend, not at as the chief of the Special Investigations Department.

During the phone call Shen Wei is absentmindedly playing with the corner of the publication he is reading.

While Yunlan does not deny that he still thinks Shen Wei is potentially up to something dodgy, he still proceeds to ask his advice on the case. This continues the dynamic from the previous episode: it’s not that Yunlan is completely blind, it’s just that he trusts Shen Wei regardless of the secrets he might be hiding.

Moving on, here’s what I have to say on he topic of bad CGI. There are several reasons in the world for a piece of visual media to have a poor quality computer animation. It could be laziness, or it could be absence of imagination, both of which are inexcusable. It also could be absence of funds, as is the case with the Guardian. And, honestly, I am alright with that. It’s not their fault, and I would much rather see this drama as it is - bad CGI and all - than none at all.

And, the quality of CGI here has energy similar to Live Action Sailor Moon (PGSM), which I honestly find both nostalgic and endearing.

That show also has a talking cat, but it’s performed by a literal plush toy on strings, so Guardian certainly wins here.

While Huang Linqi and Li Jiaqi are being kept together (possibly in an alternate dimension, seeing as how they have emerged from the lake completely dry), they talk through their relationship issues, and the audience finds itself with a sugar-sweet take on the arranged marriage/strangers to lovers trope. I feel a little bit bad about their disaster wedding now.

At the same time, Xiao Jun and Wu Tian’en’s story is a tiny echo of Shen Wei end Je Zun: the son thinks his dad left him to fend for himself when he was young and vulnerable, and distrusts the very concept of love because of that perceived abandonment. Unlike Je Zun however, he stops to have an actual conversation, which ultimately forces him to quit his senseless act of revenge, and make the first step on the path of reconciliation and redemption. This is Guardian telling us that communication skills do, in fact, matter.

He also drops this bombshell of a line, which hurts my heart a lot.

“In the face of death every love in the world is mere foam”

On an entirely separate note, I am very glad that the actor who plays Butler Wu is wearing nice thick knee pads.

They are very visible, and they make a little “boing” when he hits the ground, but the actor has to fall to his knees twice in this episode, both times on hard surfaces, one of which is literal gravel, and I’m happy that the production is being considerate of their actors’ physical well-being.

While this episode does not mark the first time Zhao Yunlan is being understanding to the Undergrounders in pain, this is the first time anti-Unvergrounder bigotry is explicitly framed in a negative light. The two evil businessmen, who cast a child aside just because he has special powers, are shown as unquestionably in the wrong. Xiao Jun is lightly scolded for his rash actions, but he is not brought back to SID in cuffs, and he is not immediately given away to Hei Pao Shi. Far from that: he is brought in softly, to spend some time at his dying father’s side.

As Butler Wu slipping away, we once more see Guo Changcheng being recklessly heroic, as he is prepared to use the Longevity Dial to share his life force. Instead of letting him do it, Zhao Yunlan snatches the Hallow away and decides to perform this particular miracle himself. This is the same man who will later sacrifice his eyesight to bring people’s lives back. Bai Yu’s acting in that moment is utterly phenomenal, showing a whole range of emotion from horror to determination to dismay in mere seconds.

Hei Pao Shi teleports in, and, without a preamble, scolds Zhao Yunlan (the first episode in the series-long “don’t touch the Hallows” saga), and then asks him whether it’s worth shortening his life for an Undergrounder. This is in equal parts a provocation and a test, because I’m fairly certain that Shen Wei was going to save Wu Tian’en anyway.

As SID members beg Hei Pao Shi to save Butler Wu in perfect unison, Zhao Yunlan states that a person is a person, regardless of their origin. Shen Wei notes inwardly that SID had changed, and, as expected, heals Butler Wu, while Yunlan stares at his power with relief and awe.

Since I have talked about the wide shot of the Dragon City, let’s talk about its counterpart in the Underworld.

I have failed to notice before that there appears to be a vast city next to the volcano river, some way away from the royal Palace, looming over it. Geographically, this makes little sense: we will see characters leave the Palace and instantly end up in a city square throughout the series, but I still really enjoy this wide shot. It is also interesting to see the architecture of the place. It is somewhere between (western) medieval abodes and futuristic shipment container blocks, with living spaces built on top of each other, crammed-in, and unpleasant. I also love the lighting here, contrasting blue and red.

Hallows random power #n: projecting their brethren. Imagine how useful it would be if they also did that for the Brush and the Lantern.

The next day, Zhao Yunlan and Da Qing are on a leisurely morning jog, while Yunlan is wearing bottoms that my partner refers to as “sheggings” (as in, shorts + leggings)

They are talking about Shen Wei, naturally. In my head-canon, Zhao Yunlan is driving his colleagues nuts because can’t help himself but bring the good professor up every goddamn minute of every goddamn day.

As they turn the corner to go home, they bump into the subject of discussion, who informs them that he moved into the building, and leaves abruptly looking more than slightly pleased with himself.

Finally, we are treated to Guo Changcheng’s surveillance exam. I don’t know why he thought this outfit would make him look less conspicuous.

Eventually, the SID will learn that some of their staff members don’t have to be fighters or detectives. In Xiao Guo, they have found the heart of their team, and that is enough.

Next up, Episode 6: The Coat Zhao Yunlan Will Buy

—

PS: I have mentioned earlier, that I have a sinking feeling as I watch Guardian, and I would like to elaborate on that. You see, I am very scared of flying. It’s an irrational fear, but it is the one I nonetheless have. There is a very specific feeling I get just as the plane starts gaining speed on the runway: there is joy, because at the end of this journey they is something to look forward to (my parents’ hugs, a drink with a friend, a favourite place, a new city to explore), but there is also a painful anticipation, as I brace for the moment the aircraft will tilt upwards, knowing that I will be pushed back into my chair by gravity, battling against an onslaught of a panic attack, shaking, learning to breathe, fighting with everything I have to keep my heart rate down. Watching Guardian from the beginning, knowing where the story is going, mirrors that feeling perfectly.

PPS: The following conversation happened with my partner as I way typing this recap.

My partner: Do you think Shen Wei ever wears sheggings?

Me: Sweetie, I think he would rather die.

#guardian #shen wei #zhao yunlan #weilan #rewatch #recap #please help I can't stop rambling

45 notes · View notes

txtdiaries · 3 years

Text

Momentum - Chapter Three

SUMMARY | After a month of static noise and not seeing Choi Soobin, he finally turns up at your door. However, something he doesn’t expect when he finally sees you is a fight and a new man making his way into your life.

PAIRING | Soobin X Reader

CATEGORY | college au, crush, slow burn, fight, angst, etc.

WORD COUNT | 1.9k

WARNINGS | swearing, ANGST, bitterness lol.

SONG REC |

PLAYLIST | momentum playlist

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

A/N: Very short chapter, I’ll be posting another chapter later in the week. Also ya gurl didn’t proofread, bc I’m too out of it for that, lmao. Enjoy!

A month.

It has been an entire month since you have heard anything from Choi Soobin, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so absolutely pissed off.

His last text has gone from comforting to annoying, and now whenever you glance at it during the odd hours of the morning (you dwell in his messages at 3 am, reading but never replying), it makes you feel sick.

I’ve been studying, working, and going off campus a ton lately. I’ll get back to you when I can. I’m sorry.

But apparently, he wasn’t that sorry. Not sorry enough to respond within the entire month of December, and now campus is coated in a thick layer of snow. The weeks flew by. No word from Soobin, whatsoever. Now that you think about it, pissed off might be the understatement of the year.

This is why, during a Friday night study session cooped up in your dorm room, the last person you expect to see is the one and only Choi Soobin; standing outside your door, looking guilty as all hell.

You didn’t have enough raspberry iced tea in your system to be able to handle it.

“Hi.” He says, voice hopeful for an entire second before he’s back to frowning.

You look him up and down before meeting his eyes again. You don’t reply.

“Can I come in?” He speaks again, looking over your shoulder, presumably at the clutter of study materials on your desk and bed. You’re still wordless, debating on whether or not you should actually let Soobin in. Realistically and metaphorically.

The longer you look up at him, the more on edge he gets. He’s starting to shift his weight and bite at the skin of his lips before you finally step aside. He’s just crossed the threshold between the hallway and your room before he’s talking again.

“I’m just gonna say it - and I just want you to listen - I’m gone a lot.”

You close the door and brush past him, deciding in the moment to not look at him anymore. He knows. Okay. So, you’d prefer to stare at the white walls than into his eyes now. Because he knows, and he’s known the whole time. It doesn’t make it sting any less.

“I don’t reply to your messages and we don’t go on dates anymore like we used to. I know that, Y/N.”

He continues, “I just… I study. I have a job, I see my roommates and my friends. I have honor’s society, and clubs, and all the other stuff that I deal with on a daily basis, and it makes it really really hard to breathe, let alone have free time sometimes.”

“You’re gone a lot.” You confirm, knowing that both you and Soobin know he never has free time, “That much is clear.”

“No that’s not-” Soobin backtracks, suddenly running his hands over his face before he takes a deep breath. You can practically feel him gathering his thoughts.

“Everything else aside, I have you in my life now.”

You finally meet his eyes and you feel yourself deflate. You notice the bags under his, the dark skin showing how close he is to finally shutting down. You notice the unkept strands of his hair you failed to notice before. The way his hoodie strings are pulled unevenly, and how one of his shoes isn’t even tied all the way. It all falls into place.

“I have you and you matter to me.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and you don’t know if it’s your turn to speak.

“I like you and you scare the fuck out of me, Y/N. I don’t do this, and especially with someone like you I- It’s terrifying. It’s terrifying because I have all these things I always have to upkeep, and I have no real prior knowledge on relationships at all, and I already know I fucked up.”

You let him continue.

“I fucked up so bad and the longer it got, the worse it felt to even try to justify what I did. You can’t even guess how many times I paced outside your door at midnight trying to build up the courage to just knock.”

“Is this your way of apologizing, or just feeding me with excuses?”

Your words slice through the air and they make Soobin fall quiet. You expect to feel worse after saying them, but you don’t. A fucking month. You sigh internally.

“I’m not-”

“It doesn’t take over a month to text someone again, Soobin. I don’t expect all your time - hell, I barely have time, but it’s not hard to send someone a single text back!”

For a flash, you feel like you could be going overboard

“I didn’t come here to argue with you, Y/N.”

“Just came expecting me to accept your apology right off the bat, then?”

This shuts Soobin up, and you suddenly realize how heavy you’re breathing.

“Get out.”

You don’t know if it’s the best idea you’ve ever had, but looking at him is only fueling your anger. You can feel your pulse racing under your skin.

“W-what?” He asks incredulously, “You aren’t even letting me explain-”

“You had a fucking month to explain. You had hours and days and weeks, to explain, Soobin. You’re too late.”

Soobin opens his mouth to try explaining again, to try and convince you his reasoning behind ignoring you for so long, but the words never leave his lips.

Without another word, he lets his head hang low in acceptance. Soobin turns, takes a few long strides to your door, and exits.

Once he’s gone, you finally allow yourself to break down.

He didn’t even hesitate.

It is nearly past the month of January when you finally feel yourself start to get into the groove of things again. You took a week to reset, did some self care, and even bought a new outfit. As far as anyone was concerned, you were flushing Soobin out of your system. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It is a Thursday afternoon when you see Soobin again. You signed up for an art class to fill a gen-ed elective, and even though the drop date was just around the corner, you hadn’t expected any new students to enroll this far into the month.

Cue the headache.

Soobin takes his seat across the room from you, and you aren’t even sure he sees you in the first place because of how he keeps his eyes down. If he does, you’re none the wiser.

“We’re working in pairs today on your watercolor pieces. Please get your canvases and paints from the back and try to keep the noise to a minimum.” Your instructor informs the class. You were genuinely excited for this class when you signed up, and art was something you enjoyed occasionally. You decide to just ignore Soobin. If he doesn’t care, you don’t have to either.

“Do you want me to get your canvas for you?” A voice suddenly asks to your left. You perk up at the sound and meet eyes with a boy you’ve never met before.

His hair is dark and parted down the middle, and his features are pretty. You’re surprised for a few seconds before you finally speak.

“Oh- it’s okay, I can get it.”

The boy shakes his head, his bangs fluffing around a bit, “It’s no trouble really, I can carry two.”

“What about the paint?” You ask nicely.

The boy hums for a second before grinning, “Okay, new plan. I get the canvases, you get the paint.”

This makes you giggle. Before you can overthink it, you’re nodding and standing with him, stepping around other students to make your way to the back of the room where all the supplies lie.

“By the way-” He says, leaning his head down a bit so you can hear him better in the already loud room, “-I’m Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.”

You extend your hand and watch as Heeseung chuckles a bit. He shakes your hand politely.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Heeseung.”

The next hour of class is spent mixing paints and trying to complete your project as Heeseung sneakily tries to smear paint on your skin. Only near the end of class do you two actually chat without painting simultaneously, brushes already put away.

“So what’s your major?” Heeseung asks you softly, chin propped in the palm of his hand as he looks at you kindly.

“Visual Communication with an emphasis in Design.”

“That’s really cool!” He says, eyes wide. Heeseung is kind, this you’ve learned over the past hour. Friendly and kind. You really feel like he’s a good guy.

“Thank you,” You grin at him, “What about you?”

“Music Production and Dance.” He says easily. It’s your turn to be surprised. Of course, he had the physique for it, but you were still really impressed. You wouldn’t have guessed music or dance.

“Okay that’s way cooler than mine! Do you do dance club or anything too?”

Heeseung suddenly turns bashful, nodding a bit, “Something like that, yeah.”

Your attention is suddenly pulled away from him as the professor speaks up again, announcing that class is dismissed for the day. You’re about to take your canvas to the back to dry, but Heeseung has already gathered it in his hand carefully, along with his own in the other.

He smiles at you again before turning and walking toward the drying rack, leaving you alone. You take this opportunity to finally let your eyes wander the room, meeting eyes with the last person you’d expect to be watching you.

Soobin’s face is stoic, but his eyes are ablaze. You know that he just saw the entire ordeal with Heeseung, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he had seen it the entire class. It’s awkward to say the least, and you don’t know how long you can hold his gaze as he blinks back at you.

“Everything okay?” Heeseung asks innocently when he gets back, moving to put his backpack over his shoulders. You can only imagine how stressed out you look.

“Yeah, everything’s good.” You shake off the feeling and look back up at him, nodding.

Heeseung smiles and then tilts his head a bit, “I was wondering if you wanted to do something sometime. Do you like coffee?”

You weren’t used to boys asking you out so easily, and it takes you aback for a moment. You know Heeseung means well, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of pain in your heart. The last person who asked you out like this was Soobin, and the irony that he is watching this all go down from across the room is not lost on you.

“I… I like coffee.” You reply, smiling at Heeseung. He looks relieved after hearing your words.

“How does Saturday sound?” He asks, pulling out his phone. You nod and type your number into the device before passing it back to him, “Saturday’s great.”

“Great,” He nods, smiling fully now. You notice how nice his teeth are momentarily, before meeting his eyes again. They are half crescents, adorably endearing as he beams down at you. You take a deep breath.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ll see you on Saturday.” And then he’s turning on his heel and walking out of the class, leaving you smiling still.

It’s less than thirty seconds before your phone vibrates in your back pocket, and you’re positive it’s Heeseung. Instead of reaching for your phone, though, you stand there, eyes staring at the now vacant chair across the room.

The room is fully empty now, and you’re left completely alone.

52 notes · View notes

hollenka99 · 3 years

Text

May Death Do Us Part

Summary: Wilbur dies and in the void, a voice refuses to accept his end. Prologue of Unequal Halves of the Same Whole

Warnings: Death, blood, stabbing, brief description of a dead body

It's only the two of them in this small room. It feels even tinier now that he's blocked the entrance to prevent anyone else coming other than Phil. The silly thing is this wall before him, the one with the button he's determined to press yet even now still has slight doubts about actually going through with doing so, it's not remarkably thick. It's not like there's multiple layers of stone between himself, Phil and the rest of the world. He's technically a stone block's width away from the whistling explosives. The others are fighting, he comments to the air. L'Manburg will have to concern itself with a force more destructive than some mere fireworks in a matter of minutes. If he does indeed detonate the nation he helped found. Phil seems determined to prevent that. But, then again, Phil doesn't know that Wilbur has cursed himself with a Chekov's gun, one that by its nature can't be left on display forever. When he mentions not even knowing if the button is rigged, the blond man laughs. Did he really want to take that risk? Well... As for there potentially being a lot of TNT connected to the device, yes that's the point. Regardless, it's clear Phil is in denial that Wilbur is absolutely ready to do this. His loss. The moment is ripe. It's best if he takes advantage of it. "Phil..." Now or never. "There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor once part of L'Manburg. A traitor I don't know if you've heard of. Eret?" "Yeah." Phil's expression is wary and rightly so. He'd be concerned if it wasn't, honestly. "He had a saying, Phil." These six words have stuck with him for months. Since... the beginning of August, it must have been. Ever since, he's never truly known whether to take people's words at face value. He'd made the mistake of trusting Eret and cost his loved ones a life. Who could tell if another one of his 'friends' was plotting his demise behind his back. Best to eradicate the plague that is L'Manburg with everything that made it so before they get a chance to reveal their true loyalties. Perhaps he's doing them a favour, betraying the lost cause in their stead. Either way, it is time for the words that will end up haunting the man who raised him since he was six. He almost wants to be sorry for bestowing the burden of them onto a new victim. However, he's so caught up in the moment, so thrilled to be at the point his goal is finally coming to completion after all these weeks, that he directs his energy to not truly smiling as he utters the infamous phrase. It does nothing to hide the pride in his voice that the time for his grand finale has finally come. "It was never meant to be." There is a satisfying click as the button accepts the pressure exerted on it. In that second before the world reacts to what he has done, he regrets letting Phil see this. He's close enough to the wall that he predicts the force of the explosion will find its way to him. Debris too if he's not already dead. It won't be pleasant to witness. But well... Phil made the decision to confront him directly and neither of them can change this situation now. He goes out saluting with eyes shut tight. Or at least, he would have if he wasn't knocked to the ground by a force not in allegiance with the TNT. Phil is pushing himself off from where he'd been laying on top of him when he opens his eyes. The wings are ruined. Wilbur wouldn't be surprised if he learned the older man has permanently grounded himself with that sacrificial act. One way or another, they are both alive. The damage has been done to the land before them as well as themselves. Ash rains down upon Wilbur as he rises to his feet to observe the consequences of his actions. Phil's eyes are full of horror and agony as he does the same from where he remains sitting. "My L'Manburg, Phil!" He throws his arms out. "My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished! If I can't have this, Phil, no-one can." "Oh my god..." The older of the two mutters in disbelief. "Kill me, Phil, kill me." He unsheathes the sword that had been situated by his side, tossing it towards the man he's appointed his executioner. "Phil, stab me with the sword. Murder me now. Kill me. Killza. Killza! Do it. Kill me, Phil, murder me. Look, they all want you to. Do it, Phil, kill me." "Y- You're my son!" He cries back, getting to his feet. And oh, that's caused him to be taken aback for a second. His... son? Well, he supposes neither he nor Phil were immune to the feelings that can naturally arise in arrangements such as theirs. Phil had been friends with his mother before her death. As such, he had felt obliged to care for her young son whom he's supposedly viewed in a fond light. The stories went that Wilbur had liked him back in turn. Of course, any and all attachment had waned on Wilbur's part as he aged into a teenager left to raise another parentless boy while Phil travelled with a piglin the same age as his 'son'. Son? Please. Phil had a funny way of showing it in that case. His standards for a father had been low but 'forcing a kid to become independent years before their time then randomly appearing out of the blue to talk them down from mass destruction and saving said child's life' still didn't reach the mark. If Phil wants to prove he's on his side, there remains one thing he can do for him. "Phil, kill me." He requests for the thousandth time. "No matter what you do, no matter what you pull, I can't-" "Look. Look! How much work went into this and it's gone. Do it." He challenges once more. "Do it." At this, Phil relents. A slash is made with another swiftly following it. Blood begins to flow and he's glad he doesn't give a shit about this outfit. Not that it even matters since he won't see dusk tonight. He drops, head smacking against the floor. And holy shit, is that what fire aspect feels like? He suddenly gains a profound understanding of why animals slain with these types of swords provide meat edible upon the moment of slaughter. He'd understood it in theory obviously but fuck, he wants to apologize to any creature whose throat he's aimed that sword at. He wonders whether he'd perceive someone pouring lava into the wound as a punishment or a distraction. He breathes through it. He won't cry, not in his final minutes and certainly not in front of Phil. Phil himself doesn't seem to have the same resolve to remain composed. The sword has left his grasp, having clattered to the floor. He is knelt, folding in on himself slightly with palms pressing into his eyes, and lets out a pained groan. It sounds like a mix of grief and acknowledgement of the agony his destroyed wings must be putting him in. Phil's heads lifts and their eyes meet. With some newfound determination, he gets up and lifts Wilbur's torso so he's leaning against him in a semblance of a sitting position. He subsequently moves the young man he supposedly considers a son to have his back against the wall. "Fuck, you couldn't just let- you couldn't just win? You had to just throw your toys out the pram." Hands are on his shoulders to steady him. Phil's frustration goes ignored. "Phil, you know when Dream- well, I guess you don't know but Dream said earlier that there was no traitor. He said earlier- he said 'hey, do you know what? There's no traitor', he said to me. And you know what?" Wilbur weakly chuckles. "He fucking lied. He lied. Phil, it's Technoblade. Phil, it's Technoblade." "Oh my god. The most powerful person on the server is the traitor?" "Phil-" He catches the attention of the man who is desperately trying to locate where the piglin may be outside. Phil's gaze snaps right back to him. Wilbur continues his warning with a bloodied grin. "And he has 8 withers ready to go." "Oh my god, I need to get out of here." True to his word, Phil glances back at the sealed entrance then the massive hole that used to be a wall. Calculation made, he descends down the rubble to the battle brewing below. "Go as fast as you can, Phil. Go see them, go on. Bye-bye. Bye-bye, Phil." With no-one to hear him anymore, he sighs and mutters to himself. "We won. It's over." He's not entirely sure what Dream was on about earlier in regards to there apparently being no traitors. Of course there were traitors. It was Wilbur and Technoblade, the man who had been planning to detonate an abundance of TNT for weeks and the man who had been gathering wither heads for anarchistic purposes. Honestly, who else would it be? Speaking of the TNT, as he overlooks the destruction, he doubts all of it has gone off... perhaps only half of it. It doesn't matter. The deed is done. Though he's miraculously managed to maintain conversation, the effects of the sword are increasingly taking hold. Bleeding out isn't the most pleasant thing to endure even without the enchantment wreaking havoc on his nervous system. Although, he's certainly no stranger to this kind of death by now. Punz had stabbed him and left him for dead in the Final Control Room. The same man's arrow found his chest while Wilbur and Tommy were escaping L'Manburg upon being exiled. Had the arrow not struck vital organs and stolen his second life quickly, it likely would have caused him a similar fate as his first and now current deaths without appropriate medical attention. Still, being the man of the arts and politics he once wanted to liken himself to, he could appreciate a good leitmotif. He can spot a wither or two in the sky. He supposes if he checked the communicator on his wrist, he'd see several user status updates regarding this development. Good, let Techno have his time to shine. It's an interesting last view, the rubble he's created, but he can't help feel a sense of pride. This has been his goal for so long and despite the delay of a month, it's finally over. "Tubbo, you are president of a crater." He says with delight. "Enjoy." Shortly thereafter, death at last envelops him. Phil does not come back to the room where the body of the boy he raised lays. Perhaps it is due to him becoming preoccupied by the withers and subsequent aftermath, maybe he cannot force himself to witness the end result of him fulfilling his son's final request. Regardless of the reason, the fact of the matter is that what physically remains of Wilbur Soot will be there tomorrow when Tubbo traverses the rubble along with Fundy and Quackity in an effort to begin rebuilding the nation following the events of the previous day. The president of L'Manburg will state that his predecessor should be left there to rot, promptly constructing a new wall to officially seal him in his tomb. The path his actions have led him down had to end eventually. If he thought about it too much, it almost seemed inevitable that by travelling down it, he would arrive at this room, to where he was to breathe his last, to his consequential final resting place. But that is to come and it is only his physical destiny. Every other aspect of him finds itself in darkness. There is nothing. And in the nothingness, there is only him. It is the outskirts of a black hole's event horizon, ready to scatter his atoms when time itself comes to an end. It is a sensory deprivation room in the heart of a city bustling with noisy activity, overloaded with an infinite variety of colours and aromas, though you would forever be none the wiser. It is the expanse of space with any and all celestial bodies too far to detect with your exposed being. The void accepts him as its latest inhabitant. In the abyss that follows his demise, silence is shattered. "What are you doing?" "This isn't right. I want to go back." "This is what we wanted. It's over now. We don't have to carry on." "There must be another way." "But we're dead. There is no reversing that. There is no 'other way' either." "What if we started over though? What if we came back somehow without the paranoia and mistrust. Someone must have cared about us, right?" "You're talking about changing who we were." "I'm talking about reverting back to a happier version of ourselves. We've done the whole 'bad guy' thing. Why don't we be the good guy again? We won't have to worry about being betrayed if everyone likes us." "...I don't think I appreciate your line of thinking." "I think my reasoning is sound." "This is crazy! We can't just show up like nothing happened. We blew up the country. We said it ourselves, if Phil didn't do it, somebody else probably would have put their sword through us." "We'll never know if we don't try." "Stop it!" "No. I'm doing this for our own good." "But I don't believe it will be beneficial. If you would just listen to me-" "If you're so content with how horribly things ended then here you go. You keep all these memories. Wallow in them. I definitely won't be needing them." "Wait-" "Meanwhile, I'm going to give us the second chance we deserve. And I'm going to do so back down there with a clean slate." "Don't do this. Please." "I'd rather take amnesia over missing this chance." Yellow burns in their line of sight, highlighted by the lack of colour. An additional arm forms. Another joins it as do two extra legs. Rapidly, one entity separates into a near identical pair. One pulls away as their twin uses both hands to pull an arm back towards them. They struggle like this momentarily before the rejecter shoves his counterpart away, causing himself to fall further and further from any continued attempts to stop him. The first is left in a wealth of misery, hatred and anxiety upon the split commencing. Anything they ever fondly cherished, even if they hadn't acknowledged it recently, is ripped from them. Memories of childhood, of playing music, of accomplishments worthy of pride are left negated in the aftermath. If the Grinch's heart grew three sizes upon accepting love once more, then this half's heart was currently shrivelling to a third of its typical capacity. Resentment fills them as their twin tumbles to the world below. The second is overcome by joy, excitement and hope as the transfer is made. Gone are the pain, the regret and the sorrow. They are free to go about their existence without a care in the world. Like a foreign object burning upon contact with the atmosphere as it tumbles, everything unnecessary disintegrates. In the fire, they are cleansed. They are able to float and avoid their feet needing to touch the ground with the absence of all that undesirable weight. The closer their new attempt at life approaches, the more they feeling as if they are flying towards it. Who cares about the other half they are leaving behind? He can take care of himself. Besides, he's been in the reins for too long. A ghost wearing a yellow jumper appears in the room where his originator succumbed to exsanguination hours beforehand. A body wearing a brown trenchcoat with red staining his shirt and fingerless gloves overlooks the surrounding ruins. Or, at least, he would be were his eyes not closed. However, it goes without saying it is disturbing to see your own corpse right in front of you, to look at your own face and know there is no life to be found upon it. So he escapes in the same direction a blond man had done earlier. Night has fallen but he knows that come morning, he will have plenty of opportunities to reunite with friends under his new name of... Ghostbur. Yeah, he wants to be called Ghostbur. Wilbur was someone else entirely so why not adopt a second identity to mark his second chance at life. It is the first memory that is solely his own and he promptly forgets it.

#dream smp #wilbur soot #philza #my writing #twobur au #unequal halves of the same whole #tw death #tw blood #first part of unequal halves let's goooo #the majority of this is honestly just Wilbur's death scene

9 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Fool for You (Crygi) - Frankenvenus

After realising she has fallen for her straight best friend, Crystal’s therapist recommends she write her crush love letters. So instead of communicating her feelings, she scribbles then down and slips them into Gigi Goode’s locker.

A/N~ I hope you like this cause it took forever. I finished it super late at night and I did read through it twice but I apologise for any errors.

Crystal stormed her way into her therapist’s office, throwing herself onto the pink sofa that she sat and rambled on for an hour and a half every week. Her therapist looked at her bemused as the blue-haired girl uttered the words, “I’m in love with my best friend.”

Her therapist, Widow, huffed out a sigh, placing her clipboard down on the coffee table in front and pushing her glasses slightly down her nose, “Well. That’s a common issue for young queer folks like yourself.”

Crystal groaned and rolled over, displaying her puffy eyes and messed up bangs, “But I thought I was immune to it.”

Widow chuckled slightly and leaned towards where Crystal lay, brushing her hair from where it stuck itself in her lip gloss, “Do you need to rant to me about it? You know that’s why I’m here, sweetie; to listen.”

The young girl groaned again before sitting up, straightening her back and recounting the events of her day.

It had started off a normal Thursday. On Thursdays, she would usually peddle to her best friend Gigi’s house before school began so they could scribble down fake absence notes for phys ed, then Gigi would hop on the back of Crystal’s bike and they’d cycle the last half mile to their high school. It was routine for them. Never weird, never crossing any lines. It had always been the two of them, best friends, since middle school. So when things shifted, it took Crystal by surprise.

“I wanna do something different today instead of just sitting in the library until Phys Ed ends. I’m sick of the librarian shutting us up. We literally aren’t even loud,” - Gigi had said, fixing her dirty blonde ponytail in the school bathroom mirror after the bike ride messed it up.

Crystal had agreed with her, before asking her if she wanted to try something new. Although Gigi was her best friend, she hung out with the stoners whilst Gigi hung out with the high-fashion Instagram girls. The dirty blonde had never tried weed, and Crystal never offered - but today she did, and Gigi was eager.

The two of them snuck to the abandoned bike shed at the back of the school, covered in ivy with smashed windows. It was a spot that only Crystal and her friends Daya, Daegen, Lux and Tiff knew, so Gigi was curious to see it.

“This is so cool,” Gigi had gaped, finding a spot in the corner while her friend rolled her a joint. Crystal had to assure her multiple times that they wouldn’t get caught, but Gigi didn’t shut up until the sizzling rice paper was placed in her mouth. The older girl talked her through how to inhale it properly, and soon enough Gigi was coughing the smoke into the air.

“Can you feel it in your chest?” Crystal had asked, and when Gigi nodded, she said, “Good. That’s how you know it worked.”

They sat there, minds foggy, trying to hold conversation despite their thought process and immediate short term memory being cut off every few seconds. At some point, their pinkies intertwined, followed by the rest of their fingers. And then, Gigi was nestling her forehead into the crook of Crystal’s neck. That’s when it all tumbled down on the latter.

The contrasting feeling of the coldness from Gigi’s skin against her own warm, buzzing skin sent jolts of emotion through her, and the gentle brush of Gigi’s wavy locks against her jaw caused her heart to squeeze itself in a way that was unfamiliar to her. It didn’t seem too serious to Crystal whilst she was still in her high, but when the effects of the weed began to fade by fifth period, the sudden feeling of need for her best friend’s touch remained in place.

Her mind kept travelling elsewhere during fifth and sixth period, which happened to be double Spanish. Jaida had to pinch her multiple times, bringing her back down to Earth. Jaida didn’t question Crystal’s behaviour too much though, because the latter wasn’t usually focused in Spanish class anyway, and that’s why she was failing.

Gigi had debate team practice after school on Thursdays, so instead of going home together the same way they would travel to school, Crystal biked alone. She had her earplugs in, blasting Clairo like usual and wondering what the hell it was that she felt today. It wasn’t until ‘Sofia’ by Clairo came on did everything click in her mind. Something about the lyrics ‘Standing here alone now, think that we can drive around, I just wanna say how I love you with your hair down’ made her realise that oh, she wanted to be able to call Gigi her own, and not just platonically. Then she almost crashed her bike.

She swerved into a fire hydrant, gratified that her bike sported thick mountain bike wheels to soften the hit. Luckily, she didn’t fall off - she just got a fright. She decided to walk her bike the rest of the way home, which thankfully wasn’t far.

When she reached home, she spread herself across her bed and allowed herself to make connections that she should’ve made before. Why else could she never take her eyes off Gigi’s plump lips? Why else did people at school assume they were a couple because they were so touchy all the time? Why else did she feel such tremendous jealousy whenever Gigi showed even the tiniest bit of romantic fondness towards someone that wasn’t her.

Her mom knocked on her door, reminding her that she had her therapy appointment in an hour, and that led back to the present.

“That seems like quite the epiphany,” Widow smiled warmly, passing Crystal a tissue box when tears began to spill over, “Normally falling for a long-term best friend is something that you realise over time, but not for you apparently.”

“I think maybe I’m just an oblivious fuck,” Crystal sniffled. “But even if I realised it today, years ago, or tens of years from now, she still wouldn’t like me back.”

“Well, I’m not your friend’s therapist, but we can’t be so quick to assume.”

“Once you see the girl, you’ll know. She’s a hardcore ten. I’m a five, at best.”

“Crystal, remember what we went over…” Widow began, and the blue-haired girl finished the sentence.

“…Instead of self-deprecation, tell yourself you’re the best person ever, no matter whether you believe it or not - yeah, I get it,” Crystal rolled her eyes, “It’s just hard when you know it’s not true.”

“Well, I have a little tip I give my clients when they’re in a similar situation to you. The whole unrequited love thing,” the older woman got up from her seat and walked towards a cabinet, pulling out a packet of fresh, plain envelopes, “I usually tell them to write their crush love notes. It’s up to them whether they send them or not, or whether it’s anonymous or not, but they can be very therapeutic when needing to express bottled up emotion. Do you see where I’m coming from?”

Crystal raised a brow and tilted her head to the side slightly, the hint of a smile on her lips. She actually didn’t mind the idea.

“That’s actually super cute,” she giggled, taking the stack of envelopes from her therapist, “Thank you.”

As soon as Crystal got home, she sprinted to her room and grabbed an old notebook from the back of her stationery drawer. It was a plain A5 paper notebook, but spread across each page was a ginormous red opaque One Direction logo. Crystal had got it for Christmas about a decade ago, but it had only been used a handful of times for random sketches and one draft of a Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles fanfiction.

She grabbed an ink fine-liner from her art pot which she would normally use for her pointillism artwork and began the first letter.

You don’t know who I am. Well, you do but like, not who is writing this. I hope you aren’t scared or anything - cause that’s the last thing I wanna do. I promise I’m not a freak. Well, I sorta look like one but, I know you aren’t one to be bothered by that kind of thing. It’s beautiful, you know. The way people look at you and assume you’ll hate them for who they are cause you’re so pretty and popular, but then you’re just as wonderful on the outside as you are within. That look on your face when you meet a new person drives me nuts. The way you look like you’ve swallowed the sun. Radiant. Always.

Sometimes I wish I could just tell you how I feel about you to your face, but I think you might faint out of disgust. You do that a lot. I sound like a stalker, but I promise I’m not. I think I’m just smitten.

She finished the letter, reading it over to make sure her handwriting looked unrecognisable. Although Gigi wasn’t the most observant person, she and Crystal were so familiar with each other that she was bound to notice her unique handwriting. She also made sure to spray it with an old perfume that she never wore, so Gigi wouldn’t connect their scents. Gigi always made comments about how she loved Crystal’s perfume, so the blue-haired girl had to take precautions. Her strong scent of cocoa and vanilla was bound to rub off on the paper, so she sprayed it with a men’s cologne that she had likely shoplifted years prior, spraying it onto the paper from a distance.

Although Widow had given her the option not to post the letters, Crystal felt like the weight of her crush wouldn’t be eased unless she actually posted it. So, she placed it into the envelope and slipped it into Gigi’s locker the next day at school when the blonde wasn’t around, her heart pounding in her ears with anticipation and verve.

She sat through her first class of the day, social studies with Daya, desperately trying to take her mind off the painful wait. Daya ranted to her about dinosaurs and how everyone’s perception of how they looked was wrong, but Crystal hardly paid attention. She would nod every so often, just so Daya wasn’t insulted, but she wasn’t really in the conversation.

After social studies, she shared a free period with Gigi. She made her way to their meeting spot in the library after the bell dismissed them from their first period, and sooner than she would’ve liked, Gigi was marching across the library towards her with the smuggest grin on her face.

“Oh my God Crystal Elizabeth you will never guess what I just found in my locker,” she squealed as quietly as possible, sliding into the seat opposite Crystal’s.

“What?” Crystal raised a brow, her mouth full of skittles. Now here was the hardest part - pretending to be shocked.

Gigi reached into her blazer pocket and pushed the familiar envelope towards the older girl, who plastered a confused look on her face. The dirty blonde gestured for her to open it, so she complied. She pulled out the letter that was already likely covered in her own fingerprints and unfolded it with a faux-expression of excitement.

“What the fuck is this?” she chuckled, trying to suppress the shake in her fingers as she held the letter.

“A letter. From a secret admirer,” Gigi beamed, placing her beautiful shaped chin into her palm and flashing her angelic white teeth. Wow, Crystal was more whipped than she thought.

“This is so dumb,” she lied blatantly, and to her surprise, Gigi frowned.

“You think so? I think it’s so sweet. And shit… whoever wrote it has a way with words,” she exhaled, tugging her plump, peachy lower lip between her teeth.

Crystal’s breathing hitched and she felt her skin redden. She assumed Gigi would find it painfully corny, but it seemed like she felt the opposite. The blonde promptly took the letter back from Crystal’s grasp, taking a look at it once more. The older girl wished she was imagining the blush that began to cover Gigi’s face, but it was definitely there.

“I hope they write again. I wanna play Nancy Drew,” Gigi smiled sheepishly, taking Crystal’s hand suddenly, “Will you help me, you know, try and crack the code?”

“Sure!”

Fuck. Crystal felt like Hannah Montana.

They spent Saturday together, drinking on Crystal’s roof and gossiping about their own respective friend groups, however, the conversation kept moving back towards the letter. Gigi was conflicted on whether or not she knew the person, but her repetitive use of he and him pronouns when she referred to the secret admirer caused Crystal’s blood to simmer.

When Gigi left the next morning after spending the night on Crystal’s couch, the blue-haired girl was quick to begin her second letter.

I hope these letters haven’t made you uncomfortable in any way. The look on your face when you read it tells me they haven’t though. What I want to tell you though, is that I’m not what you think. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a boy. I’m a girl. I don’t know if you like girls. If not; I’m sorry, but if you do; so do I. I like you a lot. All I want is to make you smile.

She spent Sunday at the skatepark, smoking with Daya, Daegen, Lux and Tiff, before slipping the note into Gigi’s locker first thing on Monday morning. The two of them, as well as Gigi’s friends Nicky and Jaida, all shared music class first period of Mondays. Whilst Crystal was pulling her viola out of its case, Gigi suddenly began dangling the envelope in front of her nose.

“Another one!” Gigi grinned, her voice cracking with adorable excitement. She took a seat beside Crystal and opened it. “I haven’t read it yet.”

Crystal watched her friend’s face with anticipation whilst she read the letter aloud, quiet enough that surrounding people wouldn’t hear. Gigi’s eyes widened as she read it over, and her grin faltered into an unreadable expression.

“What does it say?” Crystal questioned nervously.

“The person who wrote it isn’t a guy,” Gigi sighed, scratching the top of her head, “It’s a girl.”

The tanned girl pursed her lips, not knowing what to say next.

“Wow, uh. So… what do you think about that then?” she queried stupidly.

“About what?”

“You know… a girl liking you…”

The blonde crossed her legs and looked away from Crystal, “A pair of tits isn’t gonna stop me from loving this girls way of words. The anonymity is sexy. I should’ve known a man wouldn’t have the mental capacity to do something so romantic.”

This could not be real. Crystal felt like she was lucid dreaming.

“So you like… girls?” she pressed.

Gigi turned to her with a glint in her eye, “No gender or sex will stop me from wanting to kiss someone pretty.”

Oh.

“What? Are you homophobic or something?” Gigi added, and Crystal simply laughed.

”As if! Have you seen me? I think I should get ‘flaming lesbo’ tattooed on my cheek. I just didn’t know about you…” Crystal rushed out before she could even think about it. Never did she think she would come out in that way. In her mind, for most of her life, she had anticipated coming out in a very deep, emotional way - likely crying on Gigi’s bed. This was nothing of the sort.

“You’re a lesbian? Wow. I should’ve known,” the blonde simpered, and Crystal shoved her shoulder playfully.

When my therapist recommended I write these, I thought it would help me get over you, but fuck I think I’m falling harder for you. That floral outfit you wore yesterday was so cute. When you walked into class, it lit the whole room up. You truly are God’s favourite, huh? Just kidding I don’t believe in God, but whoever sculpted you took their time.

“Crystal look at this one! This is the most poetic piece of artwork I have ever read,” Gigi gaped, rushing towards Crystal after the latter had waited outside her human biology class for her.

The older girl took the letter and read through it, biting hard on her lower lip whilst Gigi watched with a smile, “It’s cute,” she said.

“It isn’t just cute! It’s… beguiling!”

“Do you even know what that means?”

The blonde groaned as they began to walk through the hallways together.

“I think you’re jealous because no one is writing you captivatingly beautiful love letters.”

Crystal shrugged and continued walking, eventually bumping into Daegen and going for a much-needed smoke. The blue-haired girl didn’t want to come off as cold to her best friend, but she feared that if she said too much, Gigi would make the connection. She smoked in silence, allowing Daegen to rant about her weekly argument with Daya that would likely be resolved by Friday. Occasionally she would nod, but she kept quiet.

It was surprising to Crystal that Gigi appreciated the letters so much. She thought the blonde would find them creepy and stalker-like, and perhaps fear for her own safety, but the opposite reaction was apparent. So now Crystal didn’t know what to do. Gigi was falling for her words, but she didn’t know it was her.

Apparently Daegen had been saying something because suddenly the girl was snapping her pink acrylic covered fingers in front of her eyes.

“Are you listening to me, Crys? I asked what you were planning on doing for Halloween this Friday?”

Oh. Crystal had almost forgotten that she had been working on her Corpse-bride inspired Halloween costume since July, putting her entire soul into the concept and causing her fingers to bleed with the many late nights of sewing layers of tulle. Everything with Gigi must have been really getting in her head - so much so that she forgot about the object of her whole summer.

She was too old for trick or treating now, unfortunately, but she had been planning to have a small get-together (edging on a party) with her remote friend group as well as others. Gigi had promised to attend, after spending the last two Halloweens with the popular kids getting shitfaced at college parties.

“Don’t you remember? I’m throwing a party. My dad is out of town for work and my mom is spending time with our grandma. The house will be empty,” Crystal grinned, puffing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Crystal Lucia Elizabeth throwing a party? Who would’ve thought,” Daegen smirked, “Is Geege coming?”

“Yup,” Crystal said, her smile faltering slightly as she popped the ‘p.’ Daegen didn’t press on, so soon they were both putting their cigarettes out and heading to their next class.

Word of Crystal’s Halloween party spread like a virus, and the prominent conversation around the school was what everyone was wearing. Thankfully for Crystal, most of her friends were art kids, so instead of wearing a slutty (insert random occupation) costume, they’d all be wearing actual thought-out looks.

At lunchtime, Crystal and Gigi sat under the bleachers together, sipping Yakults and talking about their days. The blue-haired girl asked Gigi what she’d be wearing to her Halloween party, but the blonde wouldn’t tell her.

“It’s a surprise.” her eyes were glinting smugly. Gigi was a seamstress, and everyone knew it. She would create intricately designed, beautiful outfits and sell them to big names on Instagram. Crystal often wondered why she hadn’t just dropped out of school, considering it seemed like she had a strong career set in stone.

But oh boy, Crystal knew whatever it was that Gigi was planning to wear would sweep her off her feet. Figuratively and literally - she was quite clumsy.

I can’t wait to see you at the Halloween party tomorrow. I know you’re going to look ethereal. You always do. It’s so hard to look at you without kissing you. I don’t know why I would ever think you would kiss me considering I’m not even half as pretty as you, but I will continue to manifest it as long as you’re in my life. I think I love you.

“She said she loved me in yesterday’s letter,” Gigi shouted through the wind, holding onto Crystal’s waist tight as the latter peddled through the neighbourhood.

“Do you love her?” Crystal replied, thankful that her friend was unable to see her expression at that moment. She couldn’t think straight with Gigi holding her in that way.

“I mean. I guess I have to talk to her face to face. For all I know she can’t speak for shit in real life. She said she’s going to your party tonight. Maybe all will be revealed…”

Crystal breathily laughed out a response as she turned into the school gate. She knew she wasn’t ready to come clean yet. Gigi would simply have to wait another day.

The day passed in a blur. The girls skipped Phys Ed as per usual, but instead returned to the library again for extra revision instead of going back to the bike sheds to get high like last time.

Friday night took a painfully long time to come, but when it did, Crystal could hardly breathe the entire day. She managed to flirt her way out of sixth-period history so she was able to speedily bike her way home to make a start on her eccentric Halloween makeup. People were set to begin arriving at 9 pm, and there wasn’t much preparation to be done aside from throwing a couple of fake cobwebs around the place and placing stacks of red solo cups on the kitchen counter. Her makeup would take at least an hour and a half, so as soon as she got home she took a five-minute shower before beginning the look.

She painted her entire body a silvery grey before carving out strong cheekbones with black paint, giving her an undead appearance. She shaped her brows in a way that would make her look constantly mournful. She slipped her dress on, threw on four different silver necklaces, pulled her voluminous black wig over her head, and clipped the vail to it carefully. After admiring her masterpiece through her phone camera for a few minutes, the doorbell rang. It was Lux and Tiff, who had texted to say they were arriving early.

“Oh my God,” Crystal squealed as she opened the door, revealing the two girls. Both of them were dressed in beige prison outfits, and it quickly clicked to her that they were supposed to be Alex and Piper from Orange Is the New Black. “Lesbians, I assume,” she grinned, but the two girls in front of her were too busy gaping at her own outfit.

“Wow. You are Tim Burton’s wet dream,” Tiff said, pushing past Crystal and entering her home.

“No, I’m not. I’m not white, remember,” Crystal joked.

Lux had brought her large overpriced speaker to blast music. She heaved it into the living room and plugged it in, immediately starting to blast Stupid Love cause she was that girl.

Luckily for Crystal, her neighbourhood adored her. Her street was predominantly old women, but instead of constantly yelling at Crystal for dressing slutty, partying and smoking weed on her roof, they would simply envy her recklessness.

After an hour of pre-shots, people began to arrive. Most people brought their own alcohol, but it was clear that many of them were already drunk before they even arrived. Crystal remained in the foyer, leaning against the wall, singing along to Lux’s music and answering the doorbell whenever it rang. Every time the ringing echoed across the house, she’d subconsciously pray Gigi was on the other side, but for the first two hours, it never was.

Nicky, Jaida and Gigi all arrived at once, and Crystal felt herself get cotton mouth for a second when she looked over them all. Nicky was dressed in a basic white gown with her blonde hair down, however, she was absolutely drenched in fake blood and she wore a small prom queen tiara and sash. It was obviously a Carrie cosplay, and Crystal adored it. Jaida had her entire body painted green and wore a black catsuit over it, cosplaying as Gamora from Guardians of the Galaxy.

Crystal complimented their costumes first, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Gigi. Her Halloween costume wasn’t as bold as they had been in the previous years, but there was something about it that took Crystal’s breath away. The blonde had her hair down and curled in smooth waves and she was wearing a loose white dress with a victorian-Esque corset pulling her waist in impossibly tight. She had dripped wax below her eyes, giving a crying illusion, and her makeup was a shimmery purple, making her look angelic. Yes - that was her costume - an angel. Strapped across her back was the largest pair of faux feather angel wings Crystal had ever seen. They were reminiscent of the ones a Victoria’s Secret models would wear, and they shimmered under the moonlight.

“Holy fuck…” Crystal blurted, before squeaking slightly.

“I know right? They’re so fucking heavy,” Gigi giggled before hopping in and air-kissing Crystal on each cheek, “You look so good, girl.”

“Thanks,” Crystal smiled, deciding that she would no longer be taking doorbell duty. She wanted to enjoy herself, so she walked through to the kitchen where Daya was doing body shots with some guy she had never seen before and promptly decided to join her.

Every so often, she would catch Gigi dancing and knocking things over with her wings. She didn’t mind if Gigi ended up shattering a vase. She would glue up every fragment of china for her.

After her second shot, Crystal made her way to the living room with Daegen to observe people’s dancing, and that’s when she saw them.

There was this guy from Gigi’s geography class that she never shut up about. His name was Toby, and he was one of those ‘hipster boys.’ He was a self-proclaimed feminist but probably cried about rejections from women on the internet. Every time Crystal saw his lanky frame enter a room, she felt sick and fantasized about decking him. There was something about him that was just so irritating to her, and every time he stuck his tongue out at her friend or wiggled his eyebrows like a fucking loser, Crystal wanted to cave in on herself.

And there he was, in her home, dancing with her best friend to ‘If You’re Too Shy’ by The 1975, grinding against her cause her angel wings were too large for the roles to be reversed. Gigi was biting her lip and grinning wide - evidently drunk - and she flipped her hair and bounced to the upbeat synth. Nicky was cheering her on from the couch, and Crystal wished she could just shut the party down. So much for Gigi falling in love with her words? Now she was grinding over some flimsy incel that looked like he would have to be pegged by a woman in bed.

It only got worse from there. The blonde caught Crystal’s eye and she walked up to her slowly, her hand still intertwined with Toby’s. Her words were so slurred that the older girl almost didn’t catch them, but she heard Gigi say: “Hey Toby was wondering if your bedroom was free? All the other ones are occupied but I’m desperateeee.”

Crystal had to hold back the mouthful of vomit threatening to spill from her lips. Gigi was so incredibly drunk, and it seemed like Toby was sober, so the entire endeavour didn’t sit right with her at all. She mentally cursed herself for being so generous, because before she could even register what she was doing, she was pulling a small key out of her bra and Gigi and Toby were rushing their way upstairs.

“Fuck, Crys. Have some respect for yourself,” she mumbled when she was out of earshot from her friend. Decidedly, she made her way to the garden where she knew Daegen was smoking with Tiff. She had to ease her mind.

“Fuck, Goode, you’re so hot,” Toby grunted, carelessly pulling Gigi’s wings off her arms. Gigi’s mind was hazy and she couldn’t think or speak properly, so she wasn’t able to tell the boy that the wings were handmade and extremely fragile.

“Thanks,” she slurred as he began to undress her, “Wait.”

“What?”

“Let me try and find a condom.”

She hopped off Crystal’s bed and somehow managed to find her way to her friend’s chest of drawers. She found panties and tampons among many other things, but she couldn’t find a condom. She reached the final drawer and frantically poked around for one. Then she grabbed something, and suddenly she sobered up.

It was a red A5 notepad with a black swirly binder. On the red cover, Gigi spotted five faces; Zayn, Niall, Liam, Harry and Louis. She chuckled slightly, before opening the notebook. Her heart dropped. If the familiar 1D watermark print paper wasn’t enough to make the connection, the titular scribble saying ‘Love letter for Geege draft’ at the top sealed it.

“Are you okay, Gigi?” she heard Toby ask from the bed.

The blonde paused and furrowed her brow, not sure what to do next. “Um. I can’t do this. Sorry.”

“But it was gonna be so good… You look so fine…” “Not tonight, Toby. Sorry.”

Her tone was serious, and Toby knew not to cross her. The boy watched as she pulled her dress and wings back on, and squinted his eyes when she saw a small red notebook in her hands.

“What’s that?” he pressed.

“Get out. Crystal wouldn’t want you in her room.”

After muttering a few disgusting insults under his breath, he left the room, leaving Gigi alone on her best friend’s bed with an overwhelming amount of thoughts.

Downstairs, Crystal had a growing concern as to where Gigi was, because she swore she saw Toby leave with another girl on his arm. Instead of being petty, she decided to be a good friend and creep up the stairs. To her surprise, her bedroom door was wide open. Upon entering, she realised it was empty. And then she saw the small A5 One Direction notebook wide open on her bed, and knew it was time to shut the party down.

It didn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get everyone out, but she was still met with groans of annoyance due to it only being little after midnight. Daya stayed back to help Crystal clean up, but the blonde knew something was wrong.

“Crys? What happened?” she asked, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Her other hand was occupied with a large bin bag filled with chip packets, put-out cigarettes and paper cups.

The small motion of comfort caused Crystal to break down, tears tumbling down her cheeks and creating streaks in her white face paint. Patches of caramel skin showed through as she cried more and more.

“No one… touched you… did they?” Daya questioned, dropping the trash bag and wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist.

“No,” Crystal sobbed, “I don’t really wanna talk about it. I’m fine. I just have to figure out a couple of things.”

“Do you need me to stay over?”

“No. It’s fine. I need some alone time.” The house was back to its usual state after twenty minutes, then D aya’s Lyft arrived and she left. Crystal found herself in front of her vanity, scrubbing at her face with cotton pads in an attempt to remove her many layers of makeup. She turned on her ‘Sad Girl Hours’ Spotify playlist whilst she cleaned herself up and continued playing it when she slid into the bath.

Gigi knew.

She couldn’t even think about why Gigi was snooping about in her drawers, she just knew that Gigi knew. Gigi finally made the connection. Crystal’s mask of hiding behind her romantic words was gone. There was no coming back from this. Part of her wanted to slide her body down the white acrylic bathtub surface, submerging herself in the water and remaining there until her lungs couldn’t function without another breath.

Instead, she simply sat there, neck and below beneath the steaming water, eyes shut. Her mind swarmed with escape plans. Would transferring to another school be worth it? Her current school was the best in the district. Should she give it up merely to run away from her problems? Should she face the issue head-on and talk about it with Gigi? Yes. Will she? Absolutely not.

She clambered out when the steam from the water began to make her dizzy. She straightened her blue hair every morning, but it had returned to its curly, frizzy state when it became dampened by the water. She rang it out into the sink using a hand towel, droplets of water falling from her naked frame. Everything was calm. The only thing that could be heard was the occasional sniffle - for Crystal was still crying sightly.

But, like all things, the peace came to an end when Crystal heard a clattering noise come from her bedroom. She yanked a towel from behind the bathroom door before hesitantly making her way back to her room, gasping when she saw someone climbing through her window. Instinctively, she grabbed a tennis racket that was hanging in the corner of her room.

“Jesus Christ - put that down!” the intruder gasped, and Crystal realised that it wasn’t an escaped prisoner coming to steal her and hold her captive in their trunk - it was Gigi.

Part of Crystal wanted to hit Gigi across the head with the racket painstakingly hard so the blonde’s memory would be wiped, forgetting the humiliating events of the day, but instead, Crystal just placed the racket down and covered herself tensely. She was still in her towel, and her hair was still dripping down her shoulders. She likely looked a mess, but it was too dark to notice.

“It’s almost 3 am…” Crystal whispered. Although she didn’t ask anything, it was clear her statement meant ‘why are you here?’

Gigi’s eyes trailed over to the blue-haired girl’s bed where the notebook still sat. Crystal had been afraid to touch it.

“Listen, if you’re going to ridicule me, do it on Monday, cause I’m too tired for this-” the older girl began, but Gigi stepped closer towards her.

The blonde had removed her costume and had her face now bare of any makeup. She was just stood there in black sports leggings and a pink sweater that was three sizes too large, swallowing up her slender frame. Her hair was damp and now in plaits, and her eyes were as puffy and tear-stained as Crystal’s, yet somehow still so beautiful.

“I’m not going to ridicule you, Crys,” she whispered, “I just wanna know… Was it you all along?”

Crystal didn’t wanna say it. Her body had never burned so bad, despite being bare and dripping with water. It was impossible to look Gigi in the eye, so instead, she looked at the gathering dust on the floor, gulping instead of responding.

“Answer me, Crys.” - she was getting closer.

“I don’t know if I can- if I can say it-” Crystal stumbled, her voice cracking under pressure.

Gigi stepped into Crystal’s bubble suddenly, reaching for the latter’s shaky hand. She took it in her own and pressed a soft kiss to it. “Don’t be scared to talk to me. We are best friends, remember. We vowed to always be transparent with one another - so I need you to tell me.”

After too long, Crystal finally met Gigi’s sparkling blue gaze. She swallowed back yet another lump in her throat before nodding. “It was me. I wrote them. All of them.”

The older girl swore she heard Gigi’s breathing hitch, but if the blonde was shocked in any way, she didn’t show any sign of it.

“I wanted to believe it was you, but when you seemed so disinterested in the letters, I began to question it. I never knew that you could write in such a way, Crys,” Gigi smiled sadly, reaching over to catch a tear spilling from Crystal’s eye with her thumb. The touch seemed to burn, sending electrifying sensations through both of them. “Did you truly mean everything you wrote in those letters or was it all a big joke to make me feel special?”

Crystal gasped slightly and furrowed her brow.

“Gigi Goode… You are special. When we got high during Phys Ed and you were all touchy I- I realised that I liked you. Even though it hasn’t been long since I realised it, I know my attraction to you has been there from the start. It started to become impossible to be around you without telling you how I felt, so I wrote it down in letters and hoped I could send the feeling away.”

Crystal was crying now - hard. She was a crier, and everyone knew it, but there was something about the quiet whimpers escaping her lips at that moment that took Gigi off guard.

“I wish you would’ve told me but, I can’t blame you. It’s terrifying,” Gigi sighed, stepping even closer. “I can’t even begin to explain how those letters made me feel, Crys. They made me feel like I hold some significance in somebody’s life. That someone might want me. That I am good enough for someone. You made me feel all that.”

In a bold move, Crystal was reaching towards her friend and tucking an escaped wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t good enough, Geege.”

“Your letters made me feel so loved,” Gigi sniffled. “Do you love me, Crystal?”

Crystal parted her lips, her hand still lingering by the side of Gigi’s face. It was a make or break moment.

“Yes,” she breathed, and then Gigi was leaning in.

The blonde paused before their lips could meet, looking for a sign of approval in her friend’s eyes. Crystal nodded, and that gave Gigi what she needed to finally press her lips against the former’s frown. They instantly became so content like that, lips moving together so perfectly like they just fit.

It was so gentle, to begin with, Crystal’s hand barely touching the side of Gigi’s face - but then the blonde’s fingers grabbed the top of Crystal’s arm, pulling her closer and prying her mouth open with her tongue. Their lips shifted clumsily against each other, but it still felt so right. Crystal tasted like teardrops and pineapple juice, and Gigi tasted like mint.

As the kiss became more and more heated, Crystal figured out what to do with her free hand. She took Gigi’s hand and led her towards the knot that held her towel together, staring at the blonde with dark, lustful eyes.

“I want you,” Crystal said, like it was a promise, “I need you.”

“I’m yours,” Gigi replied, pulling the knot loose and watching as the towel dropped by Crystal’s feet, showing off tanned curves glistening in water drops, begging to be marked.

They pulled one another in once again in a knee-weakening kiss, their noses colliding with each other as the passion fogged their minds. Soon, they were falling onto Crystal’s bed, and Crystal was watching whilst Gigi undressed herself in front of her.

“Promise me we’ll do this, and then we will talk everything out?” Crystal asked whilst Gigi was pulling her leggings off.

The blonde pressed a gentle kiss against Crystal’s cheek before whispering, “Of course. I love you.”

While Crystal watched Gigi hook a naked leg over her own, all she could think was: Widow VonDu needs a pay rise.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #crystal methyd #gigi goode #lesbian au #high school au #friends to lovers #frankenvenus #concrit welcome #s12

94 notes · View notes

sapphirelass · 3 years

Text

Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant.

Word count: ≈ 2400

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister Lucy were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas Lucy took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and Lucy’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, Lucy, her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and Lucy shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and Lucy with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

Lucy, who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though!

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired Lucy, pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

Lucy flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. Lucy could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. Lucy threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“Luce!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and Lucy knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice.

“Sorry…” Lucy mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave Lucy a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Lucy, did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated Lucy simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as Lucy sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when Lucy stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

Lucy turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. Lucy took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

Lucy apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as Lucy reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

Lucy grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when Lucy slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side.

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night Luce”

She didn’t answer…

***

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her long, strawberry blonde hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“Luce!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall.

***

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing Lucy to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“Lucy - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin.

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. Lucy was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years.

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

#harry potter #harryxsister #harry potter x sister #harry potter x twin #imagine #umbridge #detention #torture #siblings #angst #hp #reader #oc

52 notes · View notes

dallas-owns-my-ass · 4 years

Text

Bad For My Rep.

Paring: Dallas Winston x Singer! Reader

Summary: Reader gets forced to sing in a choir as a form of community service.

Warnings: idk cursing, smoking, vandalizing, prison?

Tag List: @staygoldponebone @botanicaldarling @rosecoloureddudez @shepards-love

If you wanted to be added just let me know :)

-----------------------------------------------------

I shook the spray paint can again and held down the button, watching the black line grow in the direction that I moved my hand. I loved everything about spray paint. The sound it makes when you spray or shake it. The variety of colors. The whole style of street art in general. It was something we had to ourselves, us kids in the street. I finished it off, taking a step back and just looking at it. West Side motherfuckaaa. I thought to myself as I chuckled.

“How you gonna like laughing about that in prison?”

I whipped my head around to see a cop. A very unamused cop. Fuck. I scanned my surroundings, debating running or not. His car blocked one of the exits and his partner’s in the other. My chances were slim to nonexistent, so being logical for once, I decided to hold my ground. Better to go out like a man right?

“You know vandalizing’s a crime? No you probably didn’t. What would some wasted thug know about anything?” he laughed, finding himself amusing. I smirked as I responded.

“If that’s what you think”

“C’mon we’re taking your ass right back to jail, and you can explain to a judge why you were out at 3 am spraying gang signs on a public structure.” He pushed me against the wall, handcuffing me. Damn. I really was about to go back to jail. I just got out too. Dally’s gonna kill me.

------------------------------------------------------

I was not looking forward to that phone call. But I had to do it if I wanted a chance of getting out of here. I reluctantly picked up the phone and dialed his number. After a couple of seconds, he picked up.

“Hello?” his voice was deep and raspy. He probably just woke up.

“Hey baby”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Man, something doesn’t always have to be wrong for me to call my boyfriend”

“Doll, it’s three in the morning... What happened?”

“Y’know, it’s not really a big deal or anything but.... I may or may not have got arrested again. And I kinda need you to come down here and see if you can bail me out or something.” He let out a long sigh.

“Babe, how many times have I told you to be more careful?” He was angry. Not that I blamed him though. I would be angry too. I did get angry when he got arrested for some stupid shit. It was my own fault for being careless.

“Were you drinking again? Uhh Y/N, how could you be so careless? Do you know what could’ve happened to you if you happened to stumble across the wrong kinda guy? Do you know what happens to pretty, intoxicated, young girls at night on the streets Y/N!”

“Yes...” I responded my voice trailing off sheepishly. I hoped it wasn’t evident in my tone that I was hurt. I hated when he yelled at me. And I hated that he was always right. He let out a long sigh.

“Of course you do. I’m sorry for yellin’ at you doll. It’s just that I can’t help worrying for you. You’re all I got. Besides, if anyone dared to mess with you, you’d kick their ass. You’re one tough broad.” I could feel the smirk on his face as he said that. “I’ll be down at the station in a couple of minutes baby.” He said as he hung up.

He groaned as he approached the cell where I was being held. That couldn’t be good.

“Babe, they said there ain’t no bail this time” Shit. I was either going to jail for a couple more months or getting a shitload of community service hours. Hopefully the latter.

“Eeh, don’t worry about it Dal”

“I’ll just get a few months, that’s all.”

“Yeah but those months gonna feel like forever without you there.”

“I’ll be out before you know it. You should go get some sleep baby, it’s late. Or should I say early now?” I leaned in to kiss him through the cell bars. We only got a quick peck before the police officer yelled at us.

“Fuck him.” Dally mumbled before leaning in again. The officer basically dragged him out of there after that. I smiled. Classic Dally.

-----------------------------------------------

There I was, sitting in my defendant chair, at my trial. Fun times. Dally, Johnny, and Sodapop came. Dally, because he had to, Johnny because he’s my best friend, and Sodapop simply because he had nothing better to do.

“Due to past offenses and lack of change in behavior from past prison sentences, I sentence Ms Y/L/N to 45 hours of community service, which can be completed in the span of 35 days at the local church.”

“With umm, all due respect your honor, can I just go to jail instead. Y’know sweeping floors and shit just ain’t really my thing.” I looked at Dally. He was smirking, trying to suppress a laugh or something. I sent a nasty glare his way.

“That type of profanity will not be tolerated in this courtroom Ms. Y/L/N, don’t make me tell you again. And I believe there is a choir that is in need of young members.”

“A choir?” I questioned, unimpressed. “You want me to go sing to God for spray painting some bridge? That just messed up man” Soda started laughing, apparently finding this whole situation amusing. “I ain’t takin’ yall to my court shit no more”

I walked out of the courtroom, Dally trailing along behind me. To say I was pissed was an understatement. How was she gonna make me go sing at some church and say that it’s community service. I mean, yeah I had a good voice, but you just don’t go walking around singing here, it was a quick way to get your ass kicked. Besides, I was supposed to be some hardened criminal or something. You ever see some hardened criminal dancing around on some stage. No. And you can bet your ass you won’t. That’s just how things work around here, and some people aren’t ever going to understand that.

“C’mon babe, it’s not that bad” he grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him. “I mean at least you’re not locked up somewhere, ‘cause we can still do stuff you know?” he winked. Of course that’s what he thought of, but I couldn’t help but smile. Dallas just had that effect on people. He could make ‘em laugh if he knew them real well. I leaned in for a kiss.

“Yeah I guess it ain’t so bad.”

------------------------------------------------

“I gotta wear this?” I almost yelled, holding up the choir robe.

“Why yes dear, it’s mandatory for all performances. Lucky for you, this is only a practice.” the nun replied. I was going to have to change that.

The nun lead me into the music room. The room got silent the moment I entered. They all recognized me, either from the paper, news, or they saw me in the midst of doing something illegal. This would be the last place they all expected me to show up. But here I was. They soon all resumed what they were doing, going back to their chatter and practicing riffs and other stuff among those activities. A young woman approached me. She was a little taller than me, skinny with straight red hair and thick glasses. She looked familiar somehow.

“Bass, alto, or soprano?” she asked. “I don’t sing.”

“Alto.” she stated. She clapped her hands twice. All the students looked up, and got into their places without even mumbling another word. These guys must be strict. Here’s the little problem with that. I don’t follow rules very well. I never have, and I’ll never care to learn. She dragged me over and placed me in the middle section, in the front. Great, I thought. Now she’s gonna be watching every little thing I do. She sang out “la la la la la la la” and everyone else repeated it back to her. Yeah I wasn’t really feeling that so I didn’t. She repeated the exercise for the third time, and after seeing me not doing it, she pointed at me and called me to the front, right next to her. Here we go again. “la la la la la la la”. I once again ignored her attempt to make me sing. I wasn’t going to do it. Sorry man, it’s bad for my rep. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t want to sing, I loved to. It’s just that I didn’t want to sing in front of a group of people just for them to laugh at me. She closed her hand, silencing everyone else.

“La la la la la la” I just stared at her and shook my head nonchalantly. She was persistent for she repeated it again. Realizing she wasn’t going to stop until I did, I sung it back quietly and purposely off-key. She shook her head and did it again. This time I sung it right, but still quietly. She nodded her head and smiled, as she made the rest of the choir resume. We continued this and practiced some other classic gospel songs for the rest of the time. 4:30, finally. I went to leave, following all the other students out, but her voice rang out.

“Y/L/N, stay after.” Great. Just what I needed.

“Why weren’t you singing?”

“I was” I corrected.

“Doing the bare minimum required is not singing. I know that the only reason you are here is to fulfill your service hours and then go back to being a menace to society after but, while you are here you will not be a burden to my choir. And yes you may have been mumbling the words to the songs incorrectly, but unless you are adding something to the group, you are a burden. So you may want to consider contributing something to this group. Is that understood?”

“Yeah I guess. I just don’t know what you think I can ‘contribute to this group’. I ain’t got no talent or nothing. All’s I got is drugs and street smarts man.”

“As I heard before, you have a nice voice, which can be contributed by singing the lead to out next song, don’t you think?”

“No I don’t think so. If you think I’m gonna get up and sing by myself in front of God knows who, you’re crazy.”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to sing while you’re here, so you might as well try.” she urged, grabbing sheet music and handing it to me. She sat down at the piano. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with ‘Oh Happy Day’?” I nodded in response. “So sing it” she said as she started playing the rhythm on the piano.

“Oh happy day” I almost mumbled. She stopped playing.

“Sing out, nobody’s here to judge you” she started playing from the beginning again.

‘Oh happy day.” I repeated, this time a little louder and clearer. “C’mon you aint gonna scare no one.”

“Oh happy day” I sung out loudly, my voice vibrating off the walls of the tiny room. “Now you got it.”

----------------------------------------

I was sitting on the couch, my head on Dally’s shoulder, watching Mickey Mouse with the bois.

“So, Y/N, you gonna be singin’ in the choir this Sunday huh?” Soda asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Mhmm” I responded curtly, not wanting anyone else in the gang to know about it.

“Blimey Y/L/N, I didn’t know you were in a choir.” Two-Bit explained. “You should’ve told us Y/N, we would’ve came if it meant so much to you.”

“Lay off it Two-Bit, it’s for community service.” I said, rolling my eyes, lighting a cigarette. That was the last thing I wanted, for all of them to show up to see me mumbling words, wearing some cloak, looking like a complete idiot.

“Geez Y/N, it’s not like I asked for your first born child. What’s got you so mad anyways?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious. What part of forced to sing in a choir wasn’t he getting. I threw the pillow next to me at him lightly. Dally chuckled.

“Don’t get so worked up about it doll” he provoked, smirking. “Shut up Dal... What’s everyone gonna think when they see me up there, in some crusty robe. I’m supposed to be tough or something, and singing doesn’t really help with that much”

“Oh c’mon babe, you’re doing community service hours because you’ve been to jail too many times or something like that. Everyone in there’s already scared of you.” I had to at least let a tiny smirk on my face. He was right. He always was. “I know” he said smugly.

“Huh?” I questioned. “You said all that out loud doll.” Oops. “Fuck you.” I said, sticking my tongue out.

---------------------------------------

It was the big day. Fun right? Yeah no. The room was almost full with people and we were about to go on. I didn’t even know people still went to church. Nope. There was no way I was doing this. There were way too many people for my liking. I would just go back to court, and take whatever excessive penalty they gave me. I may go to jail, but at least I’d have my dignity. I was just about to walk out when the teacher came up to me.

“You’re really about to leave right now?” she raised her eyebrow. I nodded sarcastically in response. “So all that hard work, all that time and effort, not only put in by you, but by the rest of the choir, you’re just going to throw it away? If you leave right now, not only are you screwing yourself over, but the rest of the choir, and the people who were expecting us to sing today.”

“You can find someone better to sing my part.” I remarked.

“Oh, so you’re scared? You’re scared they’re not going to like your voice. You’re scared you’re going to ruin your reputation. You’re scared to show them that you’re exceptionally talented. Now let me tell you something. I don’t care who’s out there today. I don’t care who’s watching or judging us. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to sing, no matter what. Because I’m not going to let you screw over this whole choir, and more importantly, I’m not going to let you screw up your chance to have a perfectly good opportunity to do something that you may love. So today, you’re going to get up on that stage and you’re going to sing for whoever the hell may be listening. And you’re going to do it well. You owe it to us. After that I don’t give a crap what you do. You can leave and go to jail time instead. Just not today.” she demanded, leading us all out onto the stage.

I took my usual spot in the back, but she pulled me to the front. She gave us a 4 beat count off and the piano started. I scanned the audience. Right in the front row was the gang. Shit. I panicked. They couldn’t know about this. I was already nervous to begin with. There was no more time to worry. The teacher pointed at me, cuing me to start. I sang the lyrics quietly, and not that well. I finished the first verse.

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.” She said. “Come here.” she pointed next to her in the very front. Feeling quite embarrassed I took my hands and shoved them in my pockets, staring at the floor. “You take your cues from me.”

“la la la la la la la.” We repeated it back to her. She pointed at me. “You.”

“la la la la la la la.” I repeated the tune. “Sing it”

“Oh happy day.” I sung, this time loud and clearly. You could feel the tone in the room shift. “Oh happy day” people looked up in shock, maybe because I was singing it, or maybe because we sounded really good. “When Jesus washed. When Jesus washed. When, my Jesus washed, he washed my sins away.” I threw a couple riffs in there to make it fancy.

“la la la la la la la.” we sung this warm up again a few times. “Let’s party.” the teacher said. “He taught me how” we sang in harmony, as we clapped on the second and fourth beat. “Oh he taught me how” I walked toward the front of the stage even more, the simple rhythm moving me. “To wash, to wash” I repeated from the background melody. “And live rejoicing. Yes he did. Oh yeah. Every, everyday.” I continued. The melody went down a key. “Oh, oh, happy day. Oh happy day yeah. When Jesus washed. When my Jesus washed. When Jesus washed.” I went into my falsetto. I finally gained the courage to look over at the gang. Soda’s jaw dropped, and Dally just sat there with a look in his eyes that I just couldn’t place, but they all definitely looked surprised. The crowd even started clapping, midst performance. I couldn’t help but smile. “My sins away. Oh you know I’m talkin’ bout happy days. Oh yeah. Sing it. Sing it. Sing it. Yeah. C’mon. Oh happy day.” We all finished, arms up in the shape of a v. The crowd erupted in applause, standing up too. Wow. I never expected such a positive reaction. We all took our bows and headed off back stage.

I changed back into my greaser attire, and headed out in search of the gang. I found them quick, easily spotting Darry. The second I reached them they all swarmed on top of me. Steve pulled me under his arm, pretending to hit me on the head with his fist.

“Damn, Y/N, you never told us you could sing like that” Darry marveled. “Any other things you’ve been keeping from us, like a secret son or somethin’” Two-Bit joked. They all continued like this for a while, until Dally interrupted.

“Alright, alright. Damn I can’t even talk to my own girl with all you bums around.” but even he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah c’mon guys, let Y/N go talk to her boyfriendddd.” Soda started. “ooooooooh” they all joined in. “Oh shut up.” I said playfully, shooing them off with my hand. Dally walked me out to his car, his arm slung over my shoulder. He opened and closed my car door and then went around to get in.

“Look man, you know I’m not good at this type of shit but, Goddamn Y/N. You never told me you had a voice like that. Man I ain’t exaggerating when I say that you have the most beautiful voice I ever heard. Shit, I never knew my babygirl was so talented.” he took his eyes off the road to give me a quick kiss. I was smiling so much by then. The car swerved, almost hitting a tree.

“Dally!” I almost screamed while laughing. “What baby, it’s only a tree.” he was laughing too.

“I guess community service ain’t so bad after all.”