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lady-assnali · 10 months

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Anarcia x Barbie Movie

I’m back with the collab nobody asked for that I desperately needed. Based on the events of my own Barbie movie premier being cancelled because the power went out, this is just…this is what came out. (I’ve been writing a bit but not too much, I’m remembering to post this for you all instead of just sending it to @sexynetra and letting it float away like I’ve been doing. I’ve been holding out, so sorry!)

——

The sky is just beginning to clear when they pull in to the parking lot of the cinema. There’s a crowd outside the door, and Jax leans in from the back seat of Anetra’s truck to see better.

“Do you think they lost power?”

Marcia shakes her head vigorously, whipping around to glare at her friend.

“Why would you say that? The storm is over, I think there’s just a lot of people coming to see this movie. That’s why it looks like it’s so packed.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Jax snorts. Anetra shoots her a look from the driver’s seat, unbuckles herself and leads them to the lobby. Their group has dressed up for the occasion, from Luxx mimicking a holiday Barbie to Marcia’s nearly identical shorter, handmade replica of the movie’s famous gingham dress. Anetra had even come in-theme, her Barbie logo shirt and jean shorts a tad brighter than her usual wardrobe.

There’s a soft alarm blaring, clumps of people talking in disappointed murmurs to themselves. The lights are off, the cinema feeling empty without the sound of popcorn popping or tickets printing. It’s all a bit ominous; although nobody wants to admit it, they’re all thinking the same thing.

This isn’t a good sign.

A man wearing a gigantic, cartoonish pink cowboy hat and chaps stands up on the bar, which has been cleared of its pink plastic cups and commemorative popcorn tubs. He shouts, and an entire lobby full of costumed people look over at him warily. His lips scrunch up in a sort of nervous wincing, and Anetra has never heard an entire room sigh all at once in the way this crowd does. He doesn’t even have to make the announcement before people are gathering their things, phones pressed close to their faces as they attempt to make other plans.

“So because of the crazy storms today, we clearly lost power. The seven o’clock viewing of the Barbie movie has been cancelled. You can hang around to see if we’ll get power back soon, but only if you’re ticket holders to a later showing. We’re so sorry for the inconvenience.”

Their group is huddled together, ranting over each other about the situation. Sugar and Spice are chatting to the group of girls next to them, Robin and Jax calling out showtimes to one another and grunting when they’re coming to the fateful screen reading sold out. There’s such a turn into chaos and yet Marcia’s leaned up against a pillar with her eyes unblinking, her lips pouted. She hasn’t responded to any of the plan making, has been thumbing through her phone looking at the same screens as everyone else.

“I think I’m going to call it.” Aura’s the first to say anything other than calling out a showtime, and the group looks up at her curiously. She’s pulling her keys from her belt bag with a non-committal shrug.

“Oh.” Marcia replies. There’s a shift in the air, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. But of course, Anetra notices. She’s spent the last couple of months doing just that; noticing, observing, trying not to let the fumes from her lovesick heart take over the entirety of her brain space.

Marcia’s shoulders drop, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her little gingham dress. Her bubbling energy has faded to a manageable simmer, not quite deflated yet flat enough to be declared standard. She’s not a standard person. They wave goodbye to Aura and they’re down their cheetah Barbie. Sugar and Spice are next to leave, having clamored for new plans the moment they’d been denied their current ones. They kiss Marcia on the head affectionately and walk off giggling, heads bent over Spice’s phone. Then Jax has plans to help at home, Luxx has a date, and suddenly it’s just the two of them standing in the dissipating crowd in front of the theatre.

The sun has begun to attempt a breakout, slivers of light caressing the rain-blackened tar of the parking lot. There aren’t many people left, just groups of bright pink sorrow slouched over their smart phones, calculating their next moves. Marcia hasn’t looked up much other than to say her goodbyes, and when she finally does Anetra’s heart breaks for her right there. Her eyes are round and widened and brimming with tears which she immediately tries to shake off.

“This is so stupid.” She moans. She brings the back of her hand to her eyes and wipes them furiously, carefully, not wanting to mess up the makeup she’d painstakingly worked on all afternoon to make herself look even more like the doll than Anetra believes she naturally does.

She fusses with the slight curl of her corn silk hair, then lets out an involuntary sigh of defeat.

“I was really looking forward to this.”

“I know.”

“I just feel like…what now? Everyone just left. And I get we can see it another day, it’s not the end of the world at all and it’s definitely a privileged thing to be so upset about a movie, but I just…”

The thought lingers incomplete in the air between them. The power alarm still beeps in the distance, a nagging reminder of the night’s disappointment.

“You can feel sad, y’know. It doesn’t mean you don’t care about other people’s problems. It just means that you’re human.”

“It’s a movie about a plastic doll.” She deadpans, rolling her eyes. Anetra chuckles at the display of silly ridicule; Marcia’s feigned attitude, her crossed arms and her self-scolding. There’s still something simmering underneath her wobbling sort of improv, but it’s a glimpse back into the girl she’s come to adore.

“It’s something you’ve been looking forward to for weeks.” Anetra’s insistent, a tentative hand on Marcia’s shoulder. “We’ve had these tickets for a while, everyone got dressed up…you’ve been planning things around this for a long time. I’d be upset too.”

“I just wish it would’ve worked out. After the week I’ve had?”

“I know.” She’d been there for it all, the passed notes between classes and the frantic texts at night, drowning in a sea of homework and student council and an audition that had her climbing into Anetra’s very old truck after school crying so hard she couldn’t talk for the first three stoplights. They’d driven that day until Marcia’s curfew, stopping only to get ice cream and fries to eat on the metal benches by the walking trail downtown. She’d FaceTimed Anetra in tears twice while trying to finish her dress (because of course Marcia had to make hers from nothing but bolts of buttery soft gingham instead of buying one. And of course, even at 2am, this endeared Anetra to no end).

This movie is what had been holding the pretty blonde together, and Mother Nature had decided to throw another wicked little wrench into Marcia’s unmatched positivity.

Anetra won’t stand for any of it; Marcia’s posture slumped into a slight curve, her lip-shaped purse dangling recklessly from her elbow, her pretty, prized wedges dipped into a puddle made by the storm that had ruined the night.

“Come on,” She gestures across the parking lot, where her beat up truck sits proudly next to a Tesla. “It’s not over until I say it’s over.”

“What?”

“You called her a plastic doll but she’s a lot more than that to lots of people-every theater is playing this movie right now. We just have to find one with some empty seats.”

“It’s been selling so fast. Do you really think,”

“-Who’s supposed to be the optimist here?” Anetra smirks. The truck chugs a bit when she starts it; familiar, reliable. Marcia leans her head on the passenger window, watches as Anetra puts it in reverse. She lays one hand over the back of her seat, and for a brief moment their eyes meet. Marcia’s thankful when her eyes go back to the road, thankful for the little bit of coverage the dark clouds allow her cheeks now that they match her dress. Then, both of Anetra’s hands go back on the steering wheel and they’re on neutral ground, worrying about the poor employees having to deal with their inflated version of the night’s events.

They pull up to the town’s tiny little shoebox restaurant and Anetra opens her door with the excuse of her parallel parking (although she knows it’s not as smooth as she thinks; typically, there isn’t really a danger of being hit by a car when you’re getting out on the sidewalk.) She asks if Marcia’s hungry and takes her flattened nod as a yes, leads them into the restaurant and to a table in a unfamiliar silence. This is disappointed Marcia, but it’s also hungry Marcia-a little bit of food is bound to make her at least feel human again.

She’s right.

Once they tear into their mozzarella sticks Marcia’s laughing again, taking more than her share of sauce and pretending to fight her about it like they usually do. She’s joking about the sold-out movie, about how this is a tell-tale sign of the universe taking a strike against the gays again just for fun. Anetra has one hand on her phone, a list of cinemas open. She’s anxious and yet she still finds it hard to concentrate on anything but the girl in front of her.

The way Marcia’s smile stirs her heart, leaves it aching to burst from her chest and shout gleefully from the rooftops…she hasn’t felt anything more sacred than this in her entire life; not when winning a match, or finding people she belongs with, or even during her first time out at a pride event. There is something about the way her body aches, her thoughts feel like they’re always skipping back to the chorus of her favorite song when Marcia leans back in her seat to ask her a question during chemistry. There is something so innately tuned into Marcia within herself that she’s recognized as maybe being love, if not a heftily settled infatuation-a big fat crush, because she has to assign a term that represents the fumbling, jittery kind of longing she feels for her friend.

So she’s locked it away a bit, listening to their friends rave about their latest date or their current flings or whoever they’re looking at on dating apps with the skilled precision of the active listener she always has been. Because she’d rather call herself delusional than speak her feelings into the air. Saying it out loud would make them real. That would mean that other voices could say the same things her brain is rattling off on repeat;

She’s out of your league

She can easily get anybody she wants

You’re a really good friend-you always have been.

That’s who you are…

A friend.

She’s a friend who would move mountains for the pretty blonde in front of her, would willingly relinquish the aux chord for her, or skip lunch to help her run lines.She’d even spend an hour on the internet jumping through online hoops to make sure Marcia gets to see this damn movie. Because she didn’t buy the logo t-shirt she’s currently wearing with the intent to make it a staple part of her wardrobe.

So when they pull up to a different theatre two hours later, she’s bursting with anticipation to make her announcement.

“We’re seeing the movie.”

“What?”

“I was looking the entire time we were at dinner and I found two tickets to the 9 o’clock showing. We’re not waiting until tomorrow; not when you made a dress for this. Not when you’ve been talking about this for months on end. This is important to you. We can go right now.”

Her face lights up, and it’s brilliant. She’s smiling the bright, wide smile Anetra can’t stop thinking about, jumping in her seat and dancing all of her unbridled, happy energy into the universe. She stops herself to hug the redhead, who almost melts into the touch. Then, Marcia steps back. She’s smiling still, but with a hint of apprehension-it doesn’t reach her eyes not completely.

“I think we have to talk first.” She says. Anetra’s heart sinks into her throat.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been trying to say something for so long but it feels like my hints aren’t being taken the way that I want them to, and now I just need to tell you directly to your face that I really, really like you. When you do sweet, thoughtful things like this it makes it impossible to stand here and accept it graciously and not grab your face and kiss you. And if that’s not how you feel it’s really okay, it’ll be alright if you give me time. But I honestly can’t take it anymore, you and your stupid truck and the blanket in the back and your cute little Barbie t-shirt, and,”

Anetra moves closer, one hand on Marcia’s shoulder and the other on her cheek. It’s taken a moment to process exactly what’s happening, the sound of Marcia’s voice and the cut of her dress and the excitement of the surprise bringing her back to life a complete distraction to the words that are coming out of her mouth. But she’s staring at the red-haired girl now, lips slightly parted, her breath hitched in her throat. And her skin is so soft under Anetra’s fingers, her eyes are so wide, and then she lets herself decode what’s happening.

I really, really like you.

Something ignites in her, propels her to close the rest of the distance between them. The initiation is quick, Anetra fearful that she’ll chicken out. But once Marcia’s lips are on hers she doesn’t want it to stop. She’s so soft, so beautifully feminine and delicate, and her fingers thread lightly through Anetra’s freshly-dyed hair like they’re trained to do it. And then she smiles into it, sighs, and Anetra’s lost all sense of time or place or direction. She’s just Anetra, the girl with the red hair and the beat-up truck and the sense that if she didn’t have basic human needs she could stay here and kiss Marcia for the rest of her life, and that would be just fine.

“So…” Marcia’s practically singing when they finally break for air, leaning her head on her seat. She’s flushed pink, and she bites her just-kissed lip with a brow raised in curiosity. “This is a good sign, then.”

“I really like you too.” She’s still nervous to send the confession into the air, even after their kiss had shattered her ability to think straight, even with Marcia’s incandescent smile upon finally hearing the words for herself.

“I didn’t want to tell anybody.” The redhead elaborates. “I think, for me, it just…I felt ridiculous. And maybe delusional.”

Marcia laughs, then-actually tilts her head back and giggles. And then she’s reaching for Anetra’s hand, linking their fingers together with that same unmatched fluttering feeling.

“The only delusional thing about you is that you couldn’t see my very clear motives. I have moves.”

“You have moves.” She deadpans. Marcia leans back incredulously, crosses her arms like a child.

“I tried my hardest, okay?! I’m not really used to reading signals that aren’t just gross men trying to get into my pants.”

“So you’re saying that instead of doing the technological gymnastics of trying to get these tickets all I had to do was grab your ass and call you princess?”

The blonde splutters a bit, rakes a hand through her hair. She makes a quick move for her seatbelt, tugging it over her chest.

“We can go now, I don’t really want to see this movie anyway.”

Anetra stares back at her, mouth opening and then closing abruptly before Marcia lets go, sending the belt flying back into its clip.

“I’m just kidding!” she shuffles herself over the console and takes Anetra’s cheeks in her hands, kissing her hard and pulling away with a satisfied smirk. “I’m just mad that I won’t want to do anything but kiss you for the next hour and 54 minutes.”

The shuffles herself out of the truck, smoothing out her dress and checking her reflection in the side mirror one last time. Anetra watches in a daze, her lips tingling and her body humming, the world a soft cocktail of disbelief and absolute bliss. She starts when Marcia calls her name, opening the drivers side door with sweet-natured, dramatic impatience.

“Come on! We’re going to be late!”

She grabs hold of Anetra’s hand, pulls her so their sides brush together as they walk. She keeps a grip on her arm, and it’s still shocking every time she leans over to kiss her cheek. The cinema lobby is covered in pink; balloon arches and streamers and big cardboard cutouts.

“Can you take our picture?” She hands her phone to the cowgirl with enthusiasm, pulls Anetra eagerly into the life-sized box. Her arms fly around Anetra’s neck, her lips lingering on her cheek for the pose. Anetra’s arms wrap tentatively around Marcia’s waist and she’s met with her body pressed as close as it can be, the blonde squeezing her in a tight embrace.

And as the stranger calls out an enthusiastic ‘cheese!’, Anetra has never loved this little plastic doll more.

#Anarcia #this would probably be an Anarcia senior year of high school au #Where they’ve been friends since Anetra moved to Marcia’s town Junior year and now it’s senior year and they get to fall in love #Very young love very going to prom as friends and hanging out after school and Anetra going to see Marcia in all the school plays/musicals #It feels like a warmup back into writing so excuse it #truly

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brokenjere · 2 years

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seventeen going under (j.f) (part 7)

seventeen going under part 7

We were a summer kissed red but oh that was then And this is now -emily jane 'that was then'

catch up here

I was flipping through the clothing rack, dress after dress, trying to find the perfect one. It was Belly’s birthday tomorrow and I needed more clothes for the deb ball events coming up so I agreed when Belly asked me. She was on the other side of the rack, looking for her own dress.

“I’m surprised Taylor didn’t pack you a dress before you left. After seeing the bathing suit she packed.” Belly rolled her eyes and pulled out a purple dress, holding it up for me to look at. I shook my head and Belly put the dress back.

“I’m sure there’s something in there that she hid, but I wanted to come shopping with you. You seem to keep turning me down this summer.” She sounded sad and suddenly I felt bad because it was true. I was blowing her off a lot because I was so focused on spending time with Jeremiah and now that I was mad at him, I agreed. I wondered if she knew that I was mad at him.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all I could say. “Do you want to get lunch after this?” I asked her. Her eyes lit up and she smiled, nodding her head. “When does Taylor come in?”

“Tomorrow. Jeremiah offered to pick her up with me,” she told me. I nodded my head, shutting down at the mention of his name. I grabbed a red dress with a slit down the side and hold it up. “Too fancy for dance lessons, I think.”

I shrugged. “Is it? I don’t know what to wear. All the girls look so pretty.”

“I know, trust me.” Belly laughed. “Maybe just a sundress or something?” I eyed up the red dress and ran the fabric through my fingers. It was silky and smooth, much like my mother’s arms fresh out of the shower.

“I really like this one,” I told her absent-mindedly. Belly smiled and told me try it on, so I took it to the fitting rooms and exchanged my jean shorts and baggy t-shirt that I was pretty sure belonged to Jeremiah for the red dress that hugged my hips perfectly. I called for Belly when I was ready to show her, waiting behind the curtain of privacy. She popped up a few seconds later, a blue gingham dress in her hands. “Ready?” I asked. She nodded.

I stepped outside of the fitting room and did a twirl. The dress wasn’t long, it barely went past my knees and it was tight so it didn’t flare out and spin with my body but the v-neck line made my boobs look nice and the red was vibrant against my skin tone. “I love it,” Belly said.

I nodded toward the dress in her hand. “You trying that on?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said, holding up the dress so she can look at it.

“Give me a second, you can have my room.” I slip back behind the curtain and change again. A whiff of Jeremiah hit my nose as I pulled my shirt on. Definitely was his. My heart ached but I slipped my tennis shoes back on and left with the red dress.

While Belly was getting changed, I flipped through some of their summer dresses. A pretty floral one popped out at me and I grabbed it for Belly. I stuck my hand through the curtain, shoving the floral dress at her. She grabbed it and asked, “was is this?”

“For your birthday tomorrow. Try it on, too.” She came out twice - once with the blue gingham dress one that got one thumbs up of approval from me and the second with the floral one. It was tight fitting to her body and ended right in the middle of her thighs. “That’s the one.” She smiles, smoothing down the dress against her body. “Taylor will never know what hit her.”

I’ve met Taylor a few times when she’s come for a week or two during past summers. I never really liked her, but I didn’t tell that to Belly. Everyone needed a Susannah to their Laurel, or whatever. I had mine. Belly needed hers, too. I was the Mary in that duo, but I never really minded.

“Does she still like Jeremiah?” I asked quietly as Belly changed back into her regular clothes. I leaned my back against the wall next to the curtain so she could hear me. She laughed behind the curtain.

“No, I don’t think she ever really liked him.”

“She flirted with him all summer that one year, remember? When you guys were freshman.”

Belly groaned and stuck her head out of the fitting room, rolling her eyes dramatically for effect. “Don’t remind me. And then she made out with Steven behind Jere’s back? What a summer.” I laughed, but it wasn’t really funny. Belly was really mad at Taylor for a while. Jeremiah was really mad at Taylor for a while. He got over it fast, like he did most things that he only semi-cared about. It was when he really cared that he held a grudge. “Anyway, I don’t think she likes him. She still calls him Jeremy, but I think it’s just a running bit.”

“Okay,” I hummed. Belly stepped out of the fitting room, both the dresses slung over her arms.

“Why? Are you finally gonna admit your feelings for him this summer?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. I pushed her arm gently and toward the register area, ready to check out and go.

“Are you finally gonna admit to Conrad your feelings for him?” I rebutted.

“I’m going to the deb ball with Cameron, actually.” She said, straightening her back a little as if she was making a huge point. “He’s even coming to my birthday dinner.”

“Look at you Bells,” I sang. She shot me a smile over her shoulder as she set her dresses down on the counter. “That didn’t answer my question, though,” I whispered in her ear. I saw her cheeks flush but she didn’t reply.

At lunch, we made small talk over the small patio table outside of our favorite diner. It was small and touristy but we liked it all the same. Belly was picking at her food a little bit when I asked her, “have you noticed anything odd about Susannah this summer?”

Belly shrugged her shoulders and said, “she just seems tired a lot lately but it’s summer so who doesn’t wanna sleep. She planned this amazing book party for my mom the other night. Did you go?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know Laurel had a book party.”

“Your mom didn’t tell you? Weird. I didn’t go, I had a date with Cameron.”

“What did you guys do?” I asked her, more curious about her date with Cameron than this party I wasn’t invited to. My stomach dropped and I wondered if Jeremiah knew about the party. Did he go? Is that why he blew me off the other night for a night swim?

“We went to the drive-in and saw an Audrey Hepburn movie. He kissed me when he dropped me off,” she gushed. I liked seeing Belly this happy. It was better than seeing her pine over a Fisher boy who didn’t know what he wanted. Maybe I should take my own advice. I picked at my french fries. “I wonder why your mom didn’t tell you about the party,” Belly said, more of a question than anything else. I just shrugged my shoulders.

“I don’t think she went.” I remember the night Jeremiah blew me off. I was sitting at home reading a book when I texted him to see if he wanted to come swim. He replied saying he already had plans, but he didn’t elaborate. My mom was home all night. We watched bad TV and ate too much junk food. I saw Jeremiah the next morning and he didn't mention anything.

Whenever I was mad at Jeremiah, he’d always bring me ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, to be specific. Getting ice cream was our thing. We’d walk through blizzards just to get a scoop of ice cream from the chocolate shop that was a few blocks away from our homes in Boston. I always got mint chocolate chip and he always got cookie dough.

I wasn’t mad at him very often. There wasn’t much he could do to make me really angry. Yeah, I found his burping at the dinner table a little annoying and when he’d push me down the slide as kids prematurely I would pout on the bench until he came and cheered me out but I was never really mad. Not until Vivian MacDonald. That was the only time I ever really got mad.

The first time Jeremiah and I fought, we were in middle school. He picked playing with Lucas Pratt over me at recess and I didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day. I asked him, “why do you like him more than me?” And even at the small age of 12, Jeremiah cupped my cheeks and said: “I could never like anyone more than you.”

I was still upset and I felt like a clingy hog every day when I followed him around until Lucas started calling me Jeremiah’s pet dog. He’d tease me and tease me until I ran away crying and spent the rest of recess in the classroom with the teacher like a loser. Jeremiah brought me a pint of mint chocolate chip after school with a note that said “I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you. You and me at recess tomorrow?”

At first I thought Susannah put him up to it but he kept doing it. Every time we’d have a disagreement even as little as deciding what movie to watch, he brought me ice cream and I’d forgive him because it was just that easy, right? It used to be.

Now, as I stared down at the white pint on my front porch, I didn’t know if it was that easy. Our fight over Vivian still lived in my mind like a well-made 3D movie in the IMax theaters. Too loud, too bright, too much movement. I forgave him once, at least I think I did. If I really forgave him, would I have gotten that mad last night? Maybe I just didn’t want to fight with my best friend.

I picked it up and read the attached note:

Meet me at the beach. Please.

Xoxo, jere.

I pushed through the front door and threw the pint on the counter. It made a huge crash into the tin that held all of our wooden spoons and my mom came running down the stairs to see what was going on. Concern was on her face until she saw me standing there, my arms crossed. “What the hell?” She asked.

“Nothing.” She looked at me and then at the pint and gave me a pointed look. “We’re just fighting, okay?”

“Is it fixable?” She asked. She always asked that. Whenever I was upset about something, she asked me if it was fixable. If it was, she’d tell me not to be upset and just fix it. If it wasn’t, she’d let me wallow in my self-pity. Either way, she held me when I cried. I shrugged my shoulders and started to sob. Really sob. She hugged me tight and I fell into my mom's arms and I could feel her shirt getting soaked with my tears but she didn’t seem to mind. “What happened?”

I didn’t tell my mom about Vivian the first time, so I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her this time, either. I just sobbed harder as I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She smoothed down my hair and cupped my cheeks and with her thumbs, wiped my tears.

“He’s your best friend, right?” She asked and I nodded. Of course, he was. “And you don’t want to lose him, right?” I shook my head this time. “So go fix it, okay? Anything between you two is fixable.” I think she was right about that. I didn’t think anything could break Jeremiah and me. At least not right now and definitely not Vivian MacDonald.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Susannah and Laurel’s book party? Why didn’t you go?” I asked her. She seemed taken back. Her arms stiffened a little but she shrugged as she grabbed some paper towels off the counter, handing them to me in a bunch. I wiped my eyes with it even though it was scratchy.

“Me and Susannah are not like you and Jeremiah. She’s not my one person and I’m not hers. They deserved a night together, you know?” I shrugged. I didn’t know. I didn’t know the dynamic between the three of them since I only saw Laurel over the summer but if my mom was happy, so was I. So, when she smiled, so did I.

I changed into my swimsuit when I got upstairs, after I washed my face from my salty tears. I didn’t want Jeremiah to know I was crying so I waited until my eyes stopped being red and puffy. I didn’t know if he would even still be waiting for me, but I pulled on some shorts and put on my flip flops and walked down to the Fisher’s stretch of the beach anyway.

I saw him before my feet even hit the hand. Sitting there, his knees up and his arms wrapped around them. He had his surfboard stuck in the sand next to him and I wondered if he had taken it out for a ride. I couldn’t tell if his hair was plastered to his face with ocean water from this far away.

My heart raced as I walked closer. I didn’t know what I was even going to say. Was I even still mad? I think so. I think I was still mad about last spring, not necessarily even what happened last night. All my anger, fears, and hurt. It all came rushing back to me. Like getting car sick on a long drive.

He heard me approaching and turned around to look at me. He smiled over his shoulder and I gave him a small wave. Just enough to let him know I come in peace. I sat down in the sand next to him, my legs spread straight out. The sand was hot on my bare skin and the sun felt nice on my shoulders and back. I ran my fingers through the sand, letting it fall through like an hourglass timer counting down to the final blow.

“Nice day out there,” he said, nodding toward the ocean. I nodded in agreement but didn’t look out at the water. He didn’t look at me. “I took the board out for a little while. While I waited.”

“For me,” I clarified. Jeremiah nodded. “How was the ride?”

“Good. It was a good day. We can go out if you want?” He suggested. We hadn’t done that together in a while. I didn’t know how to surf, but Jeremiah used to paddle me out there on his and we’d sit on the board, facing each other and just talk. It’s been a few years since we did that, actually. It was just another sport Conrad overshadowed Jeremiah in and eventually, he lost interest.

“We can,” I said. He nodded and stood up, sticking out his hand for me to grab. I took it and he pulled me up but he quickly let go of my hand. Too quickly for my liking, but I wiped my sandy hand off on my shorts. He didn’t say anything as he grabbed the board and headed toward the ocean.

“Remember what to do?” He asked. I nodded my head as I took off my shorts. I step into the ocean as Jeremiah pushes the board forward and lays on top of it. The water felt good around my ankles. Like a hug from an old family member. One that doesn’t smell like stale cigarettes. I keep walking until I have no choice but to swim and Jeremiah holds his hand out to me once he’s sitting on the board and pulls me up onto it. I swing my leg over and straddle it the same way he is and we stare at each other.

His face is littered with freckles. His lips are more pink than usual. His eyes are more blue than usual. His hair is curlier than usual. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out with a sigh of relief. As if that statement was taking all his breath away. “I am so sorry, YN.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t ask her to text you,” I said as I looked down at my hands on the board. Water splashed onto it and around my hands and I spread my fingers out.

“No, but I didn't tell her to stop until you saw. It’s not that I wanted her to keep texting me and I wasn’t replying but I should have blocked her right away.”

“You don’t have to block other girls for me,” I told him. He reached out and grabbed my hand with his. It was cold but familiar. I let him hold it for a while.

“No I don't have to but I want to. I should. I don’t want other girls texting me, I want you.” His words hurt me like a scab that reopened unexpectedly. He wants me. I’m the one. All these words and no action. Some action. He has been trying to kiss me all summer but he’s not the only one who fucked up. The only difference is that I knew about his mistake and he didn't know about mine.

“I do text you,” I tried to joke. He rolled his eyes, knowing I was avoiding the words that really mattered. “You have me. You know that.”

“Then why does it feel like this summer is different?” I looked up at him again. He was right. This summer was different. The spring changed both of us in more ways than I think I could count on one hand but I couldn’t tell him why.

“I don’t think I really forgave you for Vivian,” I said. It was only a half truth. One that felt more like I was blaming him a lot more than he deserved. “I just don’t like fighting with you so I swallowed it all.”

“I told you I was sorry for that.”

“Yeah. You said you were sorry. That you didn’t know what you were doing, you were too drunk. But you remember what you said to me and then you still stuck your tongue down her throat.” I sounded a lot harsher than I meant to. Anger sliced between us that I didn’t think still existed but his face remained calm and relaxed. He squeezed my hand three times.

“I don’t have an excuse. I really don’t. I told you that when it happened and I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but I just thought,” he trailed off.

“That I’d just move on?”

“I didn’t think that your feelings would be hurt. I didn’t think about how my words could have affected you.” So he didn’t mean it. You’re the one. He didn’t mean it and he never would mean it. While I prayed for him on every shooting star, every birthday, and every 11:11. He didn’t mean it.

“I think we’re just better as friends, you know? Without all this confusing stuff.” I sucked in a breath, preparing for the worst thing I think I’ve ever said in my life. “It was easier when there was no question about how we felt. Before you were telling me I was the one. Before you kissing other girls made my heart fall to my stomach.” I shrugged my shoulders, thinking back to all the things that were said over the spring. All the confessions and arguing and hurtful words. “We just got too tangled. Friends make it easier.”

Jeremiah let go of my hand and I wished for him to take it again. “There are no questions about how I feel. I love you. I want to be with you.” Those words he’s never said. “I think you wanna be with me, too.”

“I don’t know.” Lies. Lies. Lies. “I just need time.” Jeremiah nodded and he moved his hands through the water on either side of us. His fingers danced over the surface of the water like rocks skipping. He watched me intently. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head as I looked out at the horizon. So much empty space out there. So many possibilities. “Do you wanna go on the boat on the fourth?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Want to ask Con and the Conklins, too?”

“No. Just you and me.” Jeremiah nodded and I looked over at my best friend. More than anything, that was what he was and one day I would have to tell him the truth about everything. One day, I would have to be vulnerable enough with him and trust that he would never let me fall but for right now, I wanted to float with him in this abyss of an ocean and forget about all of that.

I held out my hand, palm faced up, and looked at him questioning whether or not he would grab it. Yes, and we were still friends. Everything was okay. No, and I would never be the same. Jeremiah looked at it for a moment. His eyes darted from my palm to the tip of my fingers up to my pleading face and then back down to my palms.

He grabbed my hand and jumped off the surfboard and into the ocean, taking me with him. I let out a scream as the water hit my body hard like a rock but then I was swimming in the water. The salt got into my eyes and my mouth but Jeremiah’s hand never broke away from mine. Not even after he floated us back up to shore. “Gotcha,” he teased.

#tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #team jeremiah #belly conklin #reader instert

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maybeimamuppet · 1 year

Text

for she's a jolly good fellow

hello everyone!! i hope you’re having an amazing day!!

this is for @masterajoy314 who requested a first holiday fic! i kinda wiggled it into a birthday thing bc. i wanted to. so. tada!!

tw for

mentioned child abuse

and as always if i need to add one please let me know!

enjoy!!

—————

The sixth of July begins like any other day.

Matilda tries to stamp down her disappointment at this fact. It’s not as if this day has been much cause for celebration in the past.

But it is still her birthday.

She’d hoped for at least some acknowledgement of the fact now that she lives with Miss Honey. Maybe forgetting birthdays is just something adults do.

“Matilda! Breakfast!” Miss Honey calls from downstairs. Matilda hauls herself out of bed, pausing to look in the mirror in the hallway. She doesn’t look much older.

She pads morosely down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

Matilda gasps when she sees it all done up with gold and blue streamers, balloons, and confetti; complete with Miss Honey standing by the table with a huge, delicious looking waffle with a candle in the middle.

“Happy birthday, darling,” she greets with one of those so-gentle smiles that just warms Matilda to her very core. “Come on, make a wish!”

Matilda knows she doesn’t need to. This is above and beyond anything she could’ve wished for. Miss Honey gasps as she runs up and throws her arms around her waist. “Thank you.”

Miss Honey puts her breakfast down and gently holds her closer. Her hands are soft as they rest on the back of Matilda’s head and massage her shoulders with the gentlest of touches. “Of course, love. Happy birthday.”

There’s a few presents for Matilda waiting to be opened with breakfast. She happily blows out the candle on her waffle and digs in after piling it with strawberries and deliciously sweet syrup.

“How would you like to celebrate?” Miss Honey asks as she starts eating her own breakfast. “I didn’t make any plans, I wasn’t sure what you’d like to do today.”

“I dunno,” Matilda responds.

“We could have your friends over for a while,” Miss Honey suggests to get the inspiration flowing. “You could invite them ‘round for dinner and a few games after school. Or we could go out, just you and I. Or stay home. It’s your day, whatever you’d like to do.”

“I could have people over?” Matilda questions. “You… would you be upset?”

“Of course not, darling, why would you think that?” Miss Honey admonishes. “We’ll need to pop by the shops on our way home to buy a few things if you’d like to invite your friends, but I wouldn’t have suggested it if I’d be upset by it, firefly.”

“I just… I do love when we get evenings together,” Matilda explains hesitantly.

“Today’s a special day. You ask whoever you want while you’re at school today and let me know on the way home, alright?”

Matilda nods with a, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love,” Miss Honey says, taking another bite. “Now, come on, open your gifts!”

Matilda smiles widely and grabs the nearest package. She’s never gotten a gift before. Well, obviously her life here with her former teacher is the best gift she could’ve gotten. But a physical, real present she can open!

She tears into the first one and pulls out a few new outfits. Cozy sweaters and cardigans for when the weather gets chilly, basics she can pair with anything, and, most exciting of all, new dresses and play clothes. Her favorite bit is a blue and white gingham jumpsuit.

“I thought that would be nice and comfy for you like your dresses, but something you could run about in, too,” Miss Honey explains.

“I love it,” Matilda says with a smile. “Thank you, Miss Honey.”

“You’re very welcome, love,” Miss Honey says. The next package contains all sorts of things to do Matilda’s hair. A new brush and comb, ties, clips, ribbons, bows.

“Wow,” Matilda says in awe as she slips a silky red ribbon between her fingers.

“Shall we give you a special birthday hairstyle for school?” Miss Honey asks. Matilda nods eagerly and rips into the packaging to free her new hair tools. Miss Honey laughs. “Easy, darling.”

She tenderly brushes through Matilda’s hair with the new purple hairbrush and loops one of the new ties around the top half so it’s out of her face but still hangs long and beautiful around her shoulders. She ties some of the ribbons in knots to the tie and twists them so they curl, and Matilda is left looking like she has a beautiful birthday firework on the back of her head.

Miss Honey hands her a mirror from her bag so Matilda can go to the restroom to check her hairdo. She hears Miss Honey laugh from the kitchen as Matilda squeals at what she sees. Matilda goes barreling back to the kitchen for another hug. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, love,” Miss Honey chuckles. “Eat up now, or we’ll be late for school.”

Matilda wolfs down the rest of her breakfast and rushes to get her uniform and shoes on. Miss Honey finishes her own breakfast and touches up her makeup before they head out the door.

Matilda loves these mornings. The sun has just barely finished it’s ascent for the day, so it’s warm, but not sweltering like it will be in the afternoon. The long grass they trek through is still kissed with dew, shining like diamonds in the morning sunlight. Birds chirp overhead in the tall, tall, tallest trees. Butterflies flutter around, and bees too.

Before, Matilda just wanted to get to school to… get away. She loved being there. Well, as much as one can love being in the same building as The Trunchbull. But she loved Miss Honey’s class, and she loved learning. But she was so worried about what would happen going home that she couldn’t focus on much else the whole day.

She was never able to take the time to appreciate what she saw. To notice the little flecks of dust she kicks up every time she takes a step along the dirt path. To hear the almost musical wind rustling through the leaves in the trees in harmony with the hum of the nearby town and the birdsong and the buzzing of bugs.

But now, she’s… safe. Miss Honey is solidly beside her. School is safe. Miss Honey is in charge. And home is safe now, too. Miss Honey is always there.

Matilda can focus so much on the world around her that she loses track of where she is. She blinks and they’re suddenly outside the gates to school. Miss Honey pulls out her huge old rusty key and creaks them open wide for the day.

Matilda follows her up the stone steps. She loves this bit especially. Hearing the clicks of Miss Honey’s shoes on the steps and down the old wooden hallways.

The heavy oak door to Miss Honey’s office creaks open as Matilda pushes into it. Miss Honey props it open behind them and settles at her desk. Matilda opens the blinds for her and spins around amongst the dust bunnies floating, almost sparkling in the light streaming through the windows.

“You’re very chipper this morning,” Miss Honey comments, looking up at her from her desk with a soft smile.

“I’m excited,” Matilda answers simply. Miss Honey’s smile grows wider.

“Good. Come here, I’ve got your lunch money for the day,” she says. Matilda heads over to her with a little extra skip in her step. Miss Honey carefully presses a few pounds into her hand so Matilda can buy her lunch from the school cafeteria. She’s very glad Miss Honey changed the menu away from that… nobody really knew what that was. Blech.

“Thank you,” Matilda says. Miss Honey brushes some of Matilda’s hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead.

“Of course, love,” she says. They both jump a little bit as the bell rings, signaling it’s time for students to start entering the building. “There’s the bell. Go find your friends, hm?”

“Okay,” Matilda nods.

“Bye, darling. Have a good day,” Miss Honey says, sending her out the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” Matilda calls as she goes running out to the schoolyard to find her friends. She smiles as the words pass her lips. It’s so easy to say them and really mean them, now.

“Matilda!” a voice yells, and that’s all the warning Matilda gets before she’s swamped in the tightest hug of her six years. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Lavender,” Matilda wheezes. She thinks she hears one of her ribs pop as her best friend squeezes her.

“D’you feel older?” Lavender asks as they head into the building together.

“Not yet,” Matilda says with a shake of her head. “I’ve felt very old for a long time. I think my body must just be playing catch-up now.”

“You’ve certainly got the brains of a grown up,” Lavender agrees.

“Miss Honey says so too,” Matilda nods.

“I dunno how you do it. I like being a kid too much.”

“I like it too,” Matilda says softly.

“Oh! Hold on a minute,” Lavender says. She roots through the pocket of her uniform, pulling out all sorts of bits and bobs (and Isaac) before she makes it to a candy bar. “This is for you!”

“Thank you,” Matilda says as she takes it.

“For your birthday,” Lavender says in response to Matilda’s confused face.

“Oh, thank you,” Matilda says. She forgot her friends might give her birthday gifts too. “Do you want to come to my birthday party?”

“Duh!” Lavender says. Matilda giggles.

“Miss Honey says I could invite friends over. So it’ll be at my house tonight,” she explains.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” Lavender says with a nod.

“When’s your birthday?” Matilda asks. She knows Lavender is close to her age. But she doesn’t know exactly when her birthday is, she’s realized.

“Mine’s in October. The twelfth,” Lavender says. Matilda sighs in relief. She only missed the last one because they weren’t friends yet. And she has plenty of time to think of the perfect birthday present for her best friend.

Lavender giggles as Matilda is suddenly blinded by something red. She jumps a bit in her panic and quickly whips whatever it is off her eyes. She whirls around to see what happened. “Hortensia!”

“Heard it’s your birthday,” Hortensia says with a smack of her chewing gum. They aren’t allowed to have gum in school, but Miss Honey had long since given up on that particular rule when it came to Hortensia.

“Yeah,” Matilda nods. Hortensia takes her hat back and ruffles her hair affectionately before she puts it back. “Your hat?”

“Keep it for today,” Hortensia says with a sisterly smirk. “You only get one sixth birthday, after all.”

“Really?” Matilda asks. Hortensia nods. “Thanks. Do you want to come to my birthday party?”

“Sure,” Hortensia says.

“It’s this evening, at my house,” Matilda explains. Hortensia nods again.

“I’ll ask my mum. Happy birthday,” Hortensia says, walking backwards towards her classroom and turning to walk properly once she’s given Matilda and Lavender a salute goodbye.

“No way you got Hortensia to come to your party,” Lavender says in shock as they start walking towards their own classrooms.

“What do you-”

“Hortensia’s so cool! She’s in the top class! Eleven-year-olds don’t come to six-year-old’s birthday parties!”

“They don’t?” Matilda asks.

“Not usually. Especially not Hortensia. You’re so lucky she likes you.”

“She likes you too,” Matilda says.

“Only ‘cause I’m friends with you!” Lavender says. “You’re still hero of the school! You had superpowers!”

“I only did what I had to do,” Matilda says sheepishly.

“And it was amazing!” Lavender admonishes, shaking Matilda dizzy by her shoulders. Matilda shakes her head to clear it when she stops. “D’you miss it?”

“Miss what?” Matilda questions.

“Your powers. Telekin… uh…”

“Telekinesis,” Matilda supplies gently.

“That’s it!” Lavender says eagerly.

“Um… sometimes, I suppose,” Matilda shrugs. “It was kind of handy. But… I don’t need superpowers anymore.”

“What do you mean?! Having superpowers would be amazing!”

Matilda giggles. It was fun while her powers lasted, but Matilda is much happier not having them. They were replaced with the most amazing thing. Love.

“I don’t know, you asked!” Matilda says. Lavender still wouldn’t understand no matter how hard Matilda tried to explain. Lavender giggles.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she says. They come to a stop outside classroom Y, Lavender’s new class.

“Bye,” Matilda says sadly.

“Bye, Matilda,” Lavender responds. She wraps Matilda in another tight hug before she walks in. “Happy birthday! I’ll see you at lunch!”

“Okay!” Matilda agrees. She waves to her friend before she skips along to her own classroom with the older kids.

—————

“So, who all is joining us this evening?” Miss Honey asks as they start the trek into town to go shopping. Matilda starts counting on her fingers as she lists everyone she invited.

“I invited… Lavender, Hortensia, Alice, Bruce, Nigel, Eric, and Tommy,” Matilda says. “Oh, and Amanda.”

“Goodness,” Miss Honey says, holding tightly to Matilda’s hand as they enter the grocery shop. “Sounds like we’ll have quite the party, then.”

“What are we going to do?” Matilda asks, helpfully grabbing a box of their favorite tea they’re running low on from a lower shelf.

“Well, I planned a special game for you all to play while I had some spare time today,” Miss Honey says. “And a few other little things we could do. Your gifts and cake will take up some time, and I gave Mrs. Phelps a ring to invite her this afternoon and she said she’d be bringing something special.”

“Uh oh,” Matilda says, knowing anything ‘special’ from Mrs. Phelps is not apt to end well. Miss Honey gives her a look of agreement with her gentle tap on the nose for her cheek.

“Now, what kind of cake do you want, my dear?” Miss Honey asks.

“I get to pick?” Matilda asks, looking up at her.

“Of course! It’s your birthday,” Miss Honey says. “I was going to make it for you, but if you’d like, we can check out the bakery to see if they have ones with pretty designs.”

“No, I want you to make it,” Matilda says immediately. Miss Honey makes the best cakes. Sometimes she makes little ones to go with their tea or to pack into Matilda’s school lunch. They had to set a limit of no more than three at a time after a few too many bellyaches. “Um… could I have a strawberry cake?”

“Oh, strawberry cake sounds delicious,” Miss Honey says. She leads them right to the baking aisle and starts adding everything they need to their basket. Matilda watches and grabs things they need from the shelves she can reach. Miss Honey always knows exactly what goes into a recipe off the top of her head. Matilda wonders if maybe everyone is a genius in their own way.

“What will we have for dinner?” she asks as Miss Honey finishes the cake shopping with a load of powdered sugar.

“I’m not sure,” Miss Honey says. “What would you like?”

“Salmon?” Matilda suggests. They’d had that for dinner, Matilda’s first, the other day. She loved it.

Miss Honey laughs. “I’m not sure all your friends would like having salmon for your birthday dinner. And it’s a bit expensive to buy fish for so many people. How about we save that for tomorrow and have some salmon just you and me?”

Matilda nods. Miss Honey gets a smaller package along with some rice to have on the side.

“How about pizzas? You liked that a lot,” Miss Honey says. Matilda’s eyes light up.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaims. Miss Honey laughs again. She has a lovely laugh. It always sounds like it comes from so deep inside her belly, like she laughs with her whole body. Like all of her is feeling whatever joy is strong enough to make her laugh. And yet, it’s an elegant sound. Like wind chimes. Matilda likes it.

“Would you like to make your own? We could get this premade dough, and all your friends could make their own little tiny pizza for themselves,” Miss Honey says.

“Yeah,” Matilda agrees, nodding eagerly. She feels strange. It’s the same sort of buzzing she felt before her powers used to come out, but all through her body. It’s practically crackling out of her little fingers. She surreptitiously extends a hand and tries to sneak a pack of sweets into their basket telekinetically. Nothing happens. She realizes she’s just experiencing overwhelming excitement for the very first time.

With all sorts of pizza toppings in their now overflowing basket, they decide their shop is complete. Matilda helps Miss Honey lug it towards the counter to check out and picks up the few items that fall out on the way. She stands on her tiptoes to peek as Miss Honey chats with the cashier and pays for their things. That’s a very big number.

“Am I expensive?” Matilda asks as they carry their bags out of the shop and towards home. Miss Honey laughs again.

“No more than any other child, darling,” she says. “And besides, it’s a special day. It’s not like we spend this much money every time we shop. Everyone needs clothing and food and shelter and things like that. I budget to make sure we have enough to have all we need and the bits we want, sometimes, too.”

“But you could be rich now, with all your father’s money,” Matilda says.

“Who says I’m not rich?” Miss Honey says, looking at her with a cheeky smile and mirth twinkling in her eyes. “I’m rich in this life, Matilda. I have a job I adore, I live in a wonderful big house. I have friends I love. And I have a little girl I absolutely adore. Every giggle I hear from you is worth its weight in gold. Just because we aren’t swimming in money doesn’t mean we can’t be rich.”

Matilda is quiet as she ponders this. Miss Honey has a lovely way of looking at the world, in spite of everything she’s been through. Matilda thinks she wants to be her when she grows up.

Little does she know, Miss Honey thinks exactly the same of her.

—————

They both groan in relief as they waddle through their front door and can finally drop the heavy bags of groceries at their feet. Miss Honey does so carefully, so the eggs don’t break.

“Alright, we’ve got a lot to get ready,” she says, rubbing her hands together and pulling her hair back. She’s right. They have a few hours, but much, much, much to do within them. “Let’s start with your cake, eh?”

Matilda nods eagerly and whips off to the kitchen. Miss Honey laughs and follows her. They both wash their hands in the big sink, and Matilda fetches their special aprons so their clothes won’t get too dirty. They’re both quite neat people, but baking is most definitely a messy activity regardless of who you are.

Matilda mashes some strawberries with a mortar and pestle while Miss Honey measures out and combines all the dry ingredients they’ll need. Matilda measures out the milk and butter and other things, and then they start combining everything.

Matilda shrieks and laughs as Miss Honey sneakily turns the stand mixer to a higher speed and makes all the flour fluff out over them. She quickly turns it back down and adds in the other ingredients. Vanilla, baking powder. And finally, the strawberries. Matilda sneaks a taste from the bowl before the delicious mush gets dumped in and combined, and the cake batter is complete.

They grease some cake tins and pour it in, and blow kisses to it as they slide the oven door closed for them to bake.

“Alright, that’s sorted for now,” Miss Honey says, carefully setting a timer. “You should go wash up before your guests arrive.”

“Okay,” Matilda says. She gives Miss Honey a quick hug and rushes off up the stairs.

She grabs her bath towel from the linen cabinet and closes the door to the restroom. Miss Honey usually at least helps her draw her baths, but today is an exceptional circumstance. Matilda can do this part well enough herself.

She can hear Miss Honey rushing about downstairs to get everything all set up as she settles into the warm, soapy water. Matilda loves her baths, taking the time to relax and get pruny fingers. Sometimes she’s brave enough to bring a book with her. A few have wrinkly pages now from the times she dropped them in the water, but at least they smell like bubble bath.

The sounds are muffled as Matilda dunks her head beneath the water to wet and wash her hair. Miss Honey taught her exactly how to do it. Shampoo, twice, rinsed in between. Conditioner, left in for three minutes, and detangled with a wide tooth comb while it sets. Carefully rinsed, and gently dried with a cotton towel.

Matilda leaves her face out this time, as she rinses the product from her hair. She stares at the stars patterned on the ceiling and feels her hair swish against her back as she gently rocks her head from side to side.

She shivers when she stands from the warm embrace of the water into the chilly air of the restroom, but she faces it bravely. Being quickly wrapped in her butterfly towel helps.

She drains the water and wipes up any drips from the floor before she pads off down the hall to her bedroom. Her school uniform gets put in her laundry hamper to be washed over the weekend, and she picks her new jumpsuit to wear for her party. She thinks some brown Mary-Jane shoes will go nicely with it, and picks some lightweight white socks with lace around the trim so they won’t hurt her feet.

“Whoa,” she says when she comes downstairs again to see the progress Miss Honey has made in getting everything ready. The entire lower floor has been decorated. Streamers drape the walls, balloons are scattered on the ground, spiral paper things hang down from the ceiling. There’s even a tiny bit of glittery confetti on the kitchen table, now covered with a blue plastic tablecloth and extended to be able to seat so many people.

“Oh, you look darling in that,” Miss Honey says as she comes in from outside, dusting something off her hands and onto the apron she’s still wearing.

“Thank you,” Matilda says. She’s suddenly hit with a wafting smell from the kitchen. The heavenly sent of freshly baked cake. Miss Honey chuckles knowingly.

“I just took them out of the oven, let’s go make the icing.”

Matilda makes extra sure to wear her apron this time so she doesn’t ruin her very special birthday party outfit. She smiles seeing the cakes cooling on the countertop, looking and smelling absolutely divine.

The frosting is easy to make. Butter, loads of powdered sugar, a bit of water, some vanilla, and some food coloring for fun. Matilda requests yellow, so Miss Honey dyes a portion of it until Matilda is happy with the color and leaves the rest the plain, delicious looking white.

“Alright, we should get that hair of yours done before it gets too tangled,” Miss Honey says. Matilda had almost forgotten. Normally she can’t stand having her hair wet and down, but she was so excited to finish her cake. “How would you like it done, my darling?”

“Uh… two Dutch braids?” Matilda asks.

“Sounds beautiful,” Miss Honey says with a smile. She tenderly brushes out Matilda’s damp hair and splits it down the middle. Matilda shudders contently at the sensation of her long nail gently scraping across her scalp.

It pulls a little bit as Miss Honey intricately twists her hair into the requested braids, but Matilda kind of likes that. It’s a unique sensation she’s started to get used to.

Miss Honey finishes the braids by tying two of Matilda’s new blue ribbons around the end of each, looping them into delicate little bows. Matilda smiles as she holds up the end of one so she can see. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love. Could you be an absolute dear and make some tea while I go make myself presentable?”

“Mmhmm,” Matilda hums. Miss Honey kisses her forehead and heads upstairs while Matilda goes back to the kitchen. She sneaks a finger full of the delicious icing. Not enough to be noticed, but just enough to satisfy her sneaky craving.

She gets the fancy teapot they only use for company or their own special tea parties down from its special safe place in the cabinet and starts heating some water. Matilda likes making tea. Everything happens in the same order every time. Sometimes she pretends she’s a world renowned scientist, and she must add all the ingredients in the proper order in just the precise amount or it’ll blow up in her face and take off her eyebrows.

In actuality, the only result is delicious, earthy tea. She sets it up on a tray with plenty of cups, biscuits, and some milk and sugar for people to add to their own tastes.

The doorbell rings as she’s fiddling with the biscuits, trying to make them look like the fancy boards of food she saw on the rare occasions her parents watched cooking shows on TV. She pauses her culinary artistry and goes to answer it.

Matilda remembers the rule they have just as her hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob. She stands on her tippy toes to check who it is before pulling the door open. “Hortensia!”

Hortensia laughs as Matilda tackles her in a hug, ruffling her hair as best she can with it in such immaculate braids. “Hey, kid.”

“You made it!” Matilda says. “Hi, Mrs. Carmichael. Would you please come in?”

They both chuckle at the uncharacteristic politeness for a six year old and follow her through into the living room. Matilda grabs the tray of tea she set up and ever so carefully carries it to them, making extra sure not to trip on anything.

“You can help yourselves,” she says as she sets it on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” Hortensia’s mum says as she carefully pours herself some tea and takes a single biscuit. Hortensia forgoes the tea altogether and just has a handful of the biscuits.

“Where should I put this, Tilly?” she asks around a mouthful of them. Matilda looks where she’s pointing, and sees a small bag she hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh. What is it?”

“Your birthday present, silly,” Hortensia says.

“A present?” Matilda says. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course I did,” Hortensia says with a half-sarcastic roll of her eyes. “Birthdays only come once a year, you know.”

“Well, thank you. Um… we could put it over here, I suppose,” Matilda says shyly, gesturing to a corner clear of furniture. Hortensia plops the glittery bag down. Matilda tries to see if she can see around the tissue paper stuck in the top, but to no avail.

She whirls around as there’s another knock at the door and heads to answer it. She smiles widely when she sees her best friend on the other side bouncing in excitement.

“Happy birthday, Matilda!” Lavender yells before the door is even all the way open. Matilda grunts as Lavender collides with her and she feels what must be another present clunk against her back.

“Thank you,” Matilda wheezes. Lavender laughs as she lets go. “Hi Mr. Torres. Please come in.”

“Thank you, Matilda. Happy birthday,” Lavender’s father replies.

“Thank you,” Matilda repeats. Lavender and her father go to join Hortensia and her mother in the living room. Matilda follows. She hopes Miss Honey returns soon. Aside from making tea, she’s not great at this whole guest hospitality thing yet.

The grownups make polite conversation while everyone sips at their tea, waiting for more guests to arrive so the festivities can begin.

Matilda sighs in relief as she hears footsteps on the stairs, signaling that Miss Honey is back. The sound is overlapped by another knock at the door. They can hear Miss Honey go to answer it. “Hello, Bruce! Come in, darling, come in.”

Bruce comes rushing into the living room to join everyone. “Hello! Happy birthday, Matilda!”

“Hi Bruce,” Matilda says with a giggle. Bruce deposits his present with the others and pours himself and his mother a cup of tea. Miss Honey closes the door after them and follows them into the room.

Miss Honey is an expert with groups of people. Kids, grownups, both, anyone. Matilda knows she prefers her own company, but she still handles large groups with such finesse that you’d never know she’s such an introvert.

The other guests trickle in over the next half hour or so. Amanda and Nigel arrive at exactly the same time and both come barreling in as their mothers frantically hush them and remind them of their manners.

Matilda grows more and more excited as her guests arrive and they get closer to party time. The last to arrive is Eric. His mother explains that he had a gymnastics practice beforehand. Eric explains he trains in gymnastics so he has another superpower under his belt to go with his ‘telekinipsis’.

“Alright, that’s everyone, I think,” Miss Honey says. She looks to Matilda to confirm this is everyone she invited, and Matilda nods. “Excellent! Everyone can follow me into the kitchen.”

The children all chatter excitedly as they head into the kitchen. There’s a special chair at the head of the table with a balloon tied to it for Matilda, and everyone else sits randomly in the other empty chairs. Lavender and Alice bicker briefly about who gets to sit closest to the birthday girl, but they’re assuaged when Tommy offers to switch chairs so they both can.

Miss Honey comes around the table and rests a small lump of pizza dough in front of each child. They only have two rolling pins, but everyone respectfully takes turns to roll theirs out into a neat circle. Bruce’s comes out as more of a… splatter, but Miss Honey comforts him with the fact that it will still taste absolutely delectable.

Jars of pizza sauce with spoons are clunked on the table next. Matilda is very careful with this step so she doesn’t get any on her clothing. The boys and Hortensia are less careful. Hortensia only just manages to talk them out of a food fight with the fact that it’s impolite to do inside, especially on a friend’s birthday. Matilda can see in her eyes she really wants to, though.

After everyone’s pizza is sufficiently sauced, a variety of toppings displayed intricately on platters and in bowls is put down. Cheese, meats, veggies, all sorts of delicious things. Matilda goes right for the cheese. It’s one of her favorite foods, and, being the birthday girl, nobody stops her from piling her personal pizza miles high with the delicious shredded mozzarella. She also adds a single olive. For balance.

Lavender is vegetarian and piles her pizza with olives, mushrooms, peppers, and artichoke hearts. And, of course, lots of cheese. Amanda takes the opposite approach, loading hers with pepperoni, sausage, and bacon.

Hortensia is lactose intolerant and uses some of Miss Honey’s favorite dairy-free cheese on her own pizza. Miss Honey isn’t lactose intolerant, but her father was. She says she prefers the taste of the dairy-free kind since it reminds her of him. Matilda didn’t care for it, but it still tastes nice when it’s paired with other ingredients.

Eric has a simple cheese pizza, and Tommy follows suit. Bruce copies Amanda’s fashion. Alice’s is most similar to Lavender’s, and Nigel… nobody is quite sure what his goal is.

Once everyone is happy with their product, they’re put in the oven to bake. Their oven isn’t big enough for everyone’s to go in at once, but Miss Honey promises to carefully monitor them and bake them in rounds so everyone can have a lovely warm pizza when it’s dinner time.

As she lifts Matilda’s tray to carry towards the oven, Matilda spies a piece of paper that was hidden beneath it.

“What’s that, Matilda?” Nigel asks. Matilda shrugs and unfolds it to see. She reads the words printed in Miss Honey’s handwriting aloud.

“To find the prize that ye may seek,

these ten riddles may your interest pique.

The first clue is this, now that is true.

The next is hidden amongst something blue.”

“A riddle?” Lavender asks.

“It’s a puzzle,” Matilda replies, looking up at Miss Honey. Miss Honey winks and gently taps her nose. “A scavenger hunt.”

“Oh! I love scavenger hunts!” Amanda squeals happily.

“Something blue?” Bruce asks. Matilda nods. Everyone stands and scatters to look around for something blue.

“The balloons!” Eric says when he realizes they’re blue and gold. One bunch doesn’t have any gold, so they all head for that one. Sure enough, taped to one is another clue. Eric carefully pulls it down and reads it.

“Now that was quick, you’re doing well.

The treasure you seek? I’ll never tell.

This clue was blue, you found it quick.

The next you’ll find around a wick.”

“What’s a wick?” Alice asks.

“It’s the part of a candle that burns,” Hortensia answers. “A candle! Your birthday candles, Matilda?”

Matilda shrugs and heads to the box of candles. They didn’t add them to the cake yet so the inside wouldn’t go stale. She dumps them on the counter and pulls out a folded up note within.

“Can I read this one, Matilda?” Lavender asks.

Matilda nods and hands it to her.

“Clue two you’ve solved, how nicely done.

Clue three is here, can you solve this one?

This one is tough, you’ll have to look

Inside Miss Honey’s favorite book.”

“Miss Honey’s favorite book?” Nigel questions. “But she loves every book.”

“Which one’s her favorite, Matilda?” Amanda asks.

“I… I don’t know,” Matilda says.

“But you’re her daughter!” Bruce says.

“She reads something different every day, I dunno which her favorite is,” Matilda responds. “The bookshelf is in this room. Come on.”

Everyone runs after her back to the living room. The grownups all left after their teatime, stacking their cups back on the tray for easy cleanup.

The children make a beeline for the bookshelf to find their next clue. They spread out along the massive thing to scan all the books packed every which way in the dark wood shelves. Hortensia and Bruce scan the higher shelves, being the tallest, while the others check the lower shelves.

Hortensia suddenly notices that a copy of Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne has a very worn spine. She pulls it off the shelf and brushes over the soft leather of the cover. She carefully flips through the worn pages. “I’ve got it!”

“Oh, Miss Honey,” Lavender says. “Pooh bear loves honey!”

Matilda smiles as Hortensia reads the next clue.

“You’ve found it here, this next riddle,

And now you’re almost to the middle

Of this hunt you’ve embarked upon.

You’ll find the next one near the dawn.”

“Near the dawn?” Tommy questions. “Where could that be?”

“It must be outside. That’s where dawn happens,” Bruce says with a confident nod. Matilda shrugs and pulls the door open for her friends to follow her outside.

“Is dawn when the sun goes up or down?” Amanda asks.

“Up, I think,” Lavender asks. Everyone looks to Matilda, who nods.

“Down is dusk.”

“The sun rises in the east,” Hortensia says.

“Where’s east?” Eric asks. Matilda looks around.

“Um… that way,” she says, pointing towards the woods. Everyone goes running in that direction as fast as they can, climbing trees, turning over rocks, on a desperate hunt for the next clue.

“I’ve got it!” Amanda yells from halfway up a tall maple tree. “No, wait, that’s a robin’s egg. Sorry, miss robin.”

“Where is it? The other ones weren’t this tricky,” Bruce says, panting in spite of hardly doing anything.

“I don’t know. Keep searching,” Matilda says with a shrug. She smiles as she starts hunting in a bush. Miss Honey set all this up. She must’ve spent her afternoon coming up with locations and riddles and writing out all the clues. It must’ve taken her at least twenty minutes to hide them all, too. All for her.

Everyone looks up and jumps well out of harm’s way when Mrs. Phelps comes rumbling up the dirt path in her book bus. She screeches to a halt right when she reaches the clearing and opens the window.

“Hi Mrs. Phelps!” Matilda yells, coughing a bit at the exhaust spewing from the back of the bus.

“Hello, Matilda!” Mrs. Phelps responds. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Matilda responds. She squints a bit to see her favorite librarian past the light of the sun in her eyes.

“Oh! I’ve got something for you,” Mrs. Phelps says with a mischievous glint in her eye. She hands Matilda a blue piece of paper tied like a scroll with a gold ribbon. Matilda gasps and holds it up like she’s just pulled the sword from the stone.

“The next clue!”

“You’ve got it, Matilda?” Nigel yells, running back over to her.

“But… what about… the dawn?” Lavender questions around gasps for breath.

“Your middle name!” Matilda realizes with a gasp. “Mrs. Phelps’ middle name is Dawn!”

Mrs. Phelps winks at her as she turns the key and the bus putters to life again. “Have fun! I’m off to go help Miss Honey set up!”

“Thank you!” Matilda calls with a wave as Mrs. Phelps drives the rest of the way to her house. Mrs. Phelps gives her a wave out the window.

“What’s the clue say, Matilda?” Hortensia asks. Matilda hands it to Nigel.

“Here, Nigel, you read it.”

“Thanks, Matilda!” Nigel says. He unrolls the page and reads it out loud.

“You’re halfway through, the hints run few

You’re quite the pro!

It’s time to go, you’ll find clue six

Among the things that grow.”

“Things that grow? But everything around here grows!” Bruce says in exasperation. “The trees, the grass, the shrubs! Even us!”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Matilda says.

“Everyone think,” Lavender says.

“Let’s split up,” Hortensia suggests. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Okay,” Eric agrees.

“Nigel, Bruce, Eric, and Tommy check in the woods. Amanda and I will check further into the clearing. And Lavender, Alice, and Matilda should check ‘round the other side of the house.”

“Why do we have to check the woods?” Nigel huffs.

“Because we’re strong enough to climb all the trees and lift all the rocks,” Eric explains. Hortensia nods.

“Exactly.” The girls begin walking away towards their respective hunting locations when Hortensia whispers, “It’s actually just ‘cause they smell.”

Amanda, Alice, Lavender and Matilda all giggle quietly into their hands.

“Give a shout if you find it, yeah?” Lavender calls as Hortensia and Amanda head towards the other end of the clearing.

“We will!” Amanda calls behind them. The remaining three run back in the direction of the house and scatter to check around every side.

“Oh! The garden!” Alice realizes. She sprints over to it and carefully starts hunting around, being very careful not to trample any of the beautiful plants. Sure enough, a scrap of blue paper is there, tucked underneath a strawberry plant. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”

Everyone makes their way over from their various hunting spots when they hear the call. Bruce is the last to make it, huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees. “Read… read the… the thing, Alice.”

“You found the sixth down here betwixt

Matilda’s favorite fruit

The seventh you’ll find entwined

Somewhere down near the roots.”

“But we’re in a garden! There’s roots everywhere!” Amanda whines.

“I don’t think she’d hide another so close to this one,” Matilda says. “It must be somewhere else with roots.”

“Tilly, you live in the woods. There’s still roots everywhere,” Hortensia says.

“Maybe they’re special roots,” Lavender proposes.

“Special roots? How can roots be special?” Nigel scoffs.

Everyone looks at Matilda. She knows the plants around better than anyone else. Matilda wracks her brain, wondering what the roots might mean. Is it literal? Metaphorical?

She gasps when she realizes it might be both. “The oak tree!”

“What?”

“Come on!” Matilda yells over her shoulder to her friends, running towards the old oak. Everyone rushes after her and skids to a stop when they come to the tree. “Miss Honey’s father planted this tree here after he and his wife moved here together. It was supposed to symbolize how the tree would grow stronger every year. Like their love for each other.”

“Aww,” Amanda and Alice coo.

“There’s definitely lots of roots,” Eric says. The roots of the old tree are quite gnarled, jutting up from the ground in several places. Matilda knows all the best ones to be cradled in with a good book on sunny days.

“Look around,” Hortensia says. Everyone hits the deck, crawling around and peeking under branches and gaps in the roots to hunt for the next clue. Matilda is more careful so she doesn’t get grass or mud stains on her lovely new outfit.

She crouches down to check on the bottom of her new swing. Bruce’s father, a carpenter, had helped her and Miss Honey build it. Miss Honey’s swing from her youth had been there a long time, and Matilda fell straight through the middle of it the first time she tried to use the rotted old thing.

She gasps as she sees the blue paper fluttering in the faint breeze. “Oh!”

“Have you got it?” Alice asks. Matilda nods and carefully pulls the clue loose.

“Beneath this tree, here you see

the seventh clue to find.

The eighth will be, clear to see

On something Matilda designed.”

“Designed? You do art, Matilda?” Nigel questions.

“Sometimes,” Matilda nods. “Not often.”

“She’s brilliant, though!” Lavender says. Matilda blushes.

Everyone looks around for something with a design on it. Amanda gasps and makes a beeline for the caravan in the yard as soon as she sees it. Everyone jumps as she takes off, but follows her quickly.

Sure enough, the next clue is there, tied to the railing with a ribbon. “Can I read this one, Matilda?”

“Sure,” Matilda nods. Amanda carefully unties it and unrolls the clue.

“You’re almost through, you’ve found eight clues

Out here around the house.

You’ll find the next, should you so choose

Inside Miss Honey’s blouse!”

“We’ve got to look in her blouse?” Tommy grimaces.

“She’s wearing a dress today,” Matilda says in confusion. “Um…”

The wind picks up a little bit, enough for them to hear the jangling of clothespins against the metal poles their clothesline hangs from.

Nobody thinks twice about it. But suddenly, Nigel gasps. “Your laundry!”

Everyone looks at Nigel like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head.

“What?” he asks. “There must be a blouse hanging!”

“Oh,” Alice nods.

“It’s worth a shot,” Hortensia agrees. Everyone goes running and carefully flicks through the delicate clothing drying on the line in the setting sun. “Oh, here!”

“You’re getting close to what you seek

And then at the treasure you’ll get to peek.

This here’s the ninth, you’ll find the last

Somewhere you’ll surely hear a squeak.”

“Don’t the steps on the porch always squeak a bit?” Lavender asks. She comes over often for playdates with Matilda, and knows which steps to avoid to avoid creaks. Matilda nods.

“They do. Unless we’re meant to go back inside, that’s all I can think of,” she explains.

“We’ll check there first,” Bruce says. “Then if we need to we can go back inside.”

He looks as if he’d much prefer to just go back inside now where it’s nice and cool, but they are all having fun on this little quest.

Everyone heads back to the porch and starts poking around the steps. It’s well hidden, but eventually Alice finds it stuck to the bottom of the squeakiest step. Everyone sits down for a quick rest while Alice reads the clue.

“You’ve done so well! The last clue’s been found

Down here beneath the stairs.

To find the treasure you’ve got to look

Over by the bears!”

Matilda knows what this one means immediately. The statue of three bears, two big and one little. Miss Honey’s father carved it when she was born. Back when he still had hopes of being a family of three. Miss Honey had found it in the attic after they moved in, and now it lives on the porch. Matilda loves running her hands over the grooves in the smooth, sanded wood sculpture. It makes her feel connected to her grandfather.

“This way!” she says immediately, popping up to her feet and running to the sculpture. “Here it is!”

Sure enough, cradled by the bears’ feet is a small treasure chest. Everyone crowds around Matilda as she carefully unlatches it and flips the lid open.

“How did we miss this earlier?” Hortensia asks as Matilda opens it.

“Who cares?! What’s inside?” Tommy asks, trying to peer over their shoulders.

“Shaving cream?” Hortensia asks in confusion.

“And food coloring,” Bruce says in about the same tone. “There’s loads of chocolate coins, though.”

“Alright!” Lavender cheers, reaching through the small crowd for a handful.

“But what is the rest for?” Matilda asks, looking around for Miss Honey to explain.

Speak of the devil. “Did you pirates find the treasure?”

“We don’t understand it, Miss Honey!” Alice pleads.

“Well, why don’t you lot come back inside and find out?” she chuckles.

The children laugh and follow her back to the kitchen.

“Bring the chest!” Miss Honey reminds them. Lavender gasps and rushes back to grab it before hurting after her friends. Everyone takes their seats around the table again. “Alright, everyone ready to get a little messy?” The boys all cheer. Hortensia does too, but Matilda looks a little nervous. “Just a little messy.”

Matilda nods and smiles. Miss Honey grabs one of the cans of shaving cream and puts several cookie trays on the table. They make so many cookies that they have enough trays for only two people to have to split one. Matilda gets to share with Bruce.

“Ready? Everyone grab a can,” Miss Honey says. “And go!”

“Go what?!” Amanda says frantically.

“Spray it!” Miss Honey laughs. The children all grab their own can of shaving cream and start spraying it into the trays.

“What’s this for, Miss Honey?” Matilda asks as she empties her can onto her and Bruce’s tray.

“We… are decorating… bookmarks!” Miss Honey says as her can gives the last few dredges of shaving cream. Matilda smiles. The other children don’t look terribly excited about the idea, but they seem happy they get to get messy. And they should’ve expected something along the lines of this in Matilda and Miss Honey’s house.

“Now what?” Hortensia asks eagerly as everyone empties their cans.

“Pick what colors you’d like and add a few drops,” Miss Honey says. Matilda adds some red and a good bit of blue, her favorite color.

Lavender’s is mostly green, Alice and Hortensia went for a sort of rainbow look. Eric and Tommy try to make theirs camouflage. Amanda’s is as close to pink as she can get it. Nigel goes for mostly blue, and Bruce took ‘a few drops’ with a grain of salt and his comes out a rather unpleasant shade of brown.

Everyone takes a toothpick to swirl the drops around into pretty patterns. Miss Honey passes out their bookmarks, and they all dip theirs in. Everyone hums and haws when they get to pull them out and scrape off the extra shaving cream to see the designs they’ve been left with.

“That was actually fun, Miss Honey!” Nigel says as he looks at his cool new bookmark. Miss Honey chuckles.

“Thank you, Nigel. Now… while these dry… I think the pizzas are ready to eat.”

“YES!”

—————

After pizza, Amanda declares it’s time for Matilda to open her presents. Miss Honey agrees with a laugh and leads everyone to the living room.

“Open mine first!” Lavender insists. “No, no, open it last!”

“How about I just pick packages at random to give her and we all keep quiet until we see what the gifts are, alright?” Miss Honey chuckles. Lavender purses her lips into a thin line, nods, and joins the circle of children surrounding Matilda.

Miss Honey rests a small box in front of Matilda. Matilda just looks at it.

“Open it, darling,” Miss Honey reminds her quietly. Matilda hesitantly holds a hand over the ribbon and tugs it loose. She pulls off the lid to reveal the necklace inside.

It’s not anything fancy. A purple plastic cord holding a large plastic heart. Inside, it says Matilda’s name over a few small purple flowers.

“That’s from me!” Alice says. “I got one from the tooth fairy and my mum got in touch with her to get you one too!”

Matilda doubts that. But she smiles and loops the new necklace around her neck. “I love it. Thank you.”

Alice nods proudly and goes back to her spot in the circle. Matilda looks expectantly at Miss Honey for the next gift.

“I… found this one outside when I was setting up the scavenger hunt, I’m not sure who it’s from,” Miss Honey says hesitantly. “Be careful with it.”

Matilda frowns in confusion. She checks all around it. On the end of the ribbon sits a single initial. A blocky letter S. Matilda gasps. “Sergei!”

“What?”

“It’s from Sergei!” Matilda repeats, tearing into the box.

“Who’s Sergei?” Bruce asks in confusion.

“He’s… er… a family friend, dear, you haven’t met him,” Miss Honey explains, looking a bit pale.

All the kids let out various sounds of awe as Matilda pulls out a huge box. Tommy exclaims, “That’s the biggest Lego set I’ve ever seen!”

“Lego?” Matilda questions. Everyone swarms closer to show her.

“They’re special little building blocks. This one is for the Eiffel Tower,” Nigel explains. “See the bumps? That’s how they link together.”

“Cool,” Matilda says. She smiles to herself as she rests it out of the way to open her next gift.

She gets a play doctor kit from Bruce, a voucher for a few free gymnastics lessons at his gym from Eric, a beautiful doll from Amanda, some buttons to add to her clothes and a bag of lollipops from Hortensia, a beautiful personalized stationery set from Nigel, and a few board games from Tommy.

Lavender squeaks a bit when Miss Honey rests her gift in front of Matilda. Matilda smiles to herself as she removes the tissue paper and pulls out a stuffed… worm.

“A worm,” she says with a confused smile.

“It’s a bookworm!” Lavender explains eagerly. “Like you!”

Matilda gives it a squeeze. It is great to cuddle. “I love it. Thanks, Lav.”

“You’re welcome!”

The last present left is from Mrs. Phelps. Matilda opens the box and lifts the tissue paper covering a beautiful leather bag, with nice cushy straps. “So you can carry more books home without hurting your back.”

“Thank you!” Matilda says, rushing to hug her favorite librarian.

Mrs. Phelps gives her a tight squeeze and murmurs, “Happy birthday, dear.”

Matilda lingers for a second before she pulls back and admires her stack of amazing new gifts. “Thank you, everyone.”

“You’re welcome!” Everyone choruses.

“I think it must be time for cake, hm?” Miss Honey hums. The children all cheer and swarm to the kitchen in a great pile. Miss Honey and Matilda laugh and follow them.

Matilda gets to sit back at her special seat at the head of the table, and everyone else sits down. Miss Honey goes to grab the cake, and Mrs. Phelps helps by fetching the candles and matches. Matilda watches as the cake is rested in front of her. Most of the frosting is white, but Miss Honey piped the yellow in a beautiful trim around the top and bottom edges and used it to write, “Happy Birthday Matilda” in big swirly letters. Mrs. Phelps approaches with the candles. The big number six goes right in the middle and six blue candles surround it in a circle.

Miss Honey lights them, and everyone starts singing to her. Matilda smiles to herself. All these people are here for her. Wishing her a happy birthday.

“Make a wish!” Amanda squeals as soon as the birthday song is done. Matilda closes her eyes, but… she can’t think of anything more she wants. I wish this moment would last forever.

She knows it can’t, but her memory can. Matilda takes a deep breath and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers as she gets all of them in one go except the big six in the middle. A second quick puff gets that one, and then Miss Honey hands her the knife to cut her own special birthday slice.

“Goodness, Matilda, leave some for your friends,” she laughs as Matilda cuts about a quarter of it. Matilda grins sheepishly and cuts it much smaller the second time.

Bruce wound up next to her this time, and looks a bit green as his slice is rested in front of him. Matilda grumbles internally. How dare that horrid woman do that to her friend? Poor Bruce must have had a terrible time at all the other birthday parties he’s been to since.

“You don’t have to eat it,” she says to him in a whisper.

“I want to,” Bruce whispers back. “It looks delicious, but…”

“It’s strawberry. Not chocolate,” Matilda says. “And you can stop whenever you like. You can do it.”

Bruce picks up his fork with a shaking hand and hesitantly places a bite in his mouth. Matilda watches relief spread across his face as the sweet strawberry cake hits his tongue, and he leans into the enjoyment of the confection instead of his fear. “This is delicious, Miss Honey.”

“Thank you, dear,” Miss Honey replies with a smile on her face. Matilda smiles too as she takes the first bite of her own.

—-

After cake comes the time for Mrs. Phelps’ special surprise. She leads everyone outside to the old, gnarled oak tree Matilda’s swing hangs from. Matilda laughs as she sees the cardboard woman hanging from a branch.

“A piñata!” she says.

All her friends laugh and yell as they see who the piñata is. Miss Honey had become quite close with Mrs. Phelps after Matilda’s adoption, since they’d both been spending more time in the library finding new things to read together. Miss Honey had filled in the gaps in the story Matilda hadn’t.

As satisfying as running The Trunchbull out of the school was, something tells her that whacking a cardboard effigy of her with a stick might be even more fun.

“Miss Honey first!” Matilda says immediately.

“What?” Miss Honey laughs. All the kids cheer and start chanting her name. She smiles down at Matilda and begrudgingly crouches down so she can tie the blindfold on her. It is her birthday, after all. Matilda ties the blindfold around her head and spins her around a few times. Mrs. Phelps gives her the stick and protectively moves all the children well away from the woman with the bat.

Miss Honey hesitates for a moment with the bat held aloft. “Am I facing the right way?”

“Yeah!” Bruce cheers. Miss Honey lifts the bat a little higher and takes a swing. Mrs. Phelps holds the other end of the rope the piñata has been hung from and yanks it a bit so it lifts and she misses.

Miss Honey tries again. Another miss. Mrs. Phelps lets her make contact on her last hit and lets her get a whack in. Everyone cheers when the dull thump rings out.

Things go similarly well for everyone else’s turns. Two misses and a hit. The Trunchbull’s head is starting to look a bit loose.

Matilda gets the last go. Lavender laughs a concerning amount as she gets the honor of tying the blindfold on Matilda and whirling her around. She does a bit more than necessary, and Matilda staggers off in the vague direction she remembers the piñata being.

She swings as hard as she can and feels nothing but air. She vaguely hears Miss Honey call, “Left a bit!” over the cheers of all her friends.

Matilda turns to her left and tries again. She hears a quiet thunk as the bat makes contact with the thing. “One more! You can do it, Matilda!” Amanda calls.

Matilda rears up and swings as hard as she can. The thump is much louder this time, and followed by a second. Matilda tugs the blindfold up off her eyes and jumps a few times in her excitement when she sees the now-mangled form of her former headmistress on the ground and leaking candy from her decapitated head. A bit gruesome, but fun.

The other children all swarm around her as Matilda drops to her knees, trying to collect as much candy as they possibly can. Miss Honey tries in vain to encourage them to share and try to get an even amount. Eventually she gives up and just lets them act like heathens. You’re only young once, after all.

“This is the best birthday party I’ve been to in my life!” Bruce exclaims as he stuffs his pockets with sweets. Matilda laughs and does the same.

——-

After that comes the unfortunate time for everybody to go home. Matilda makes sure everyone gets their leftover pizza and whatever cake they’d like to take home, along with the proper bookmarks they made and their goody bags.

She had an amazing time, but she’s still completely exhausted by the time she’s given the last hug goodbye and the door has clicked shut for the last time.

Miss Honey shoos her upstairs to go wash up for bed while she tidies the few things that can’t wait until tomorrow.

Matilda goes to wash her face and remove the ribbons from her hair.

She changes into her comfiest pajamas, crawls into bed, and waits patiently for Miss Honey to come to tuck her in. As always, she barely has to wait a minute before the woman is gently entering her room. She always knocks, even if the door is open. Matilda likes that.

She lies down as Miss Honey takes a hold of her duvet and carefully fluffs it out before gently laying it over Matilda. “What do you think? Was today a good birthday?”

“Oh, yes, it was wonderful,” Matilda says. She sniffs a bit and wipes a few stray tears. Miss Honey tuts sadly.

“Oh, darling, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just… I never… expected people to want to celebrate… me,” Matilda explains fragmentarily.

Miss Honey smiles sadly and gently strokes her thumb across Matilda’s cheek. “Well, you’d better get used to it. We’ve got a lot to make up for.”

Matilda smiles back at her and reflects on the wonderful day. Friends, food, fun… family. Miss Honey bends down and gently kisses her forehead.

“Happy golden birthday, Matilda,” she whispers against her hairline.

“Thank you,” Matilda whispers back, reaching her arms around Miss Honey’s neck for a tight hug. “For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Miss Honey replies. She kisses Matilda once more. “Oh, I’ve got one last thing for you.”

Matilda looks at her in confusion as Miss Honey pulls out an envelope. Matilda carefully opens it and pulls out a card. She smiles when she sees it’s in the shape of a bee and says, “Happy Bee-Day” in letters patterned to look like a honeycomb.

She opens the card and reads the message inside. The card itself has some stock message with a bee pun, but the really important bit has been written in Miss Honey’s favorite blue ink.

Happy Bee Day, dear Matilda. You’ll always ‘bee’ a Honey. So much love, Jennifer Honey.

Matilda finds herself tearing up again. She got the one thing she always wanted, this year. It was the absolute best birthday ever. “Thank you.”

Miss Honey squeezes her hand and kisses the top of her head. “Now get some rest, little one. You’ve had a long day today.”

Matilda nods and settles into bed. Miss Honey tucks her in tight just the way she likes.

“Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” Matilda says, grabbing her new worm friend and rolling onto her side. Miss Honey flicks the light off and quietly shuts the door.

She leaves it ajar for the briefest of moments to say, “I love you.”

Matilda smiles to herself in the darkness. “I love you too.”

Her door clicks shut, and Matilda drifts off for the most peaceful rest of her six years.

Happy birthday indeed.

—————

thanks for reading!!

also, i’m unfortunately starting to run out of ideas for this fandom!! so if you have any requests for me or things you’d like to see please let me know! you can leave me a comment or send me a message here or on wattpad :)

i’m willing to do almost anything so if there’s something you’d like to see do please give me a heads up and i’ll see what i can do for you :DD

in the meantime, thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

lots of love,

ezzy

#matilda #matilda 1996 #matilda the musical #matilda 2022 #matilda wormwood #jennifer honey

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

HoneyBear

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Sweet + Sad

Concept Helping

Warnings Depression and self-harm

I was admittedly a little nervous. But I had to do it. I'd been away filming in Australia for about nine months without a break to come home it was amazing as working always is especially doing something this big and honestly this good. Even if I had definitely had a few big waves of homesickness the sort I never had before after all my years in this job.

I guess that was because of y/n.

I'd always had girlfriends of course and a lot of the time they were always who I missed the most. But y/n's different.

We'd been friends for years and eventually after a lot of pushing and nervous dates we became a couple. And I've never been happier, she was everything I wanted and everything I needed. Honestly I wanted to marry her but we haven't even been dating for a year. I imagine everyone would go a little mad if I tried to marry her now.

But I was worried. She's been dealing with alot and I know she hasn't been doing well, she wasn't that great before I left and I made a point to make sure even though I was literally the other side of the planet I wanted to make sure I called, texted her, left her messages and sent her home presents trying to make sure she didn't feel abandoned while I was gone.

Of course now I'm home I wanted nothing else in the world then to see her. Even if Jack had warned me when he picked me up she that she hadn't been good. Apparently there was some issues with her boss and she went down a bit of a depressive spiral while I was gone. It did unfortunately happen to her alot but usually I'd be here to help her or atleast talk her down on the phone if I was away. I felt awful for abandoning her while I was gone but I had cleared my calendar now I'm back so I could see her and hopefully take care of her as best I could.

I didn't know just how bad she would be. I didn't wanna ask and I doubt jack really knew anyway, I know about her boss and about the situation so I wasn't imagining it being good.

I arrived at her little London apartment on the first floor of what was once a basic three floor London town house since it was split by her landline into three one floor apartments. She has the ground floor meaning she also has a small back garden. I went up to her little purple door giving it a firm rhythmic knock holding the strap of my leather bag as I waited on her doorstep. No answer, that's strange? So I knocked again this time a little louder. Perhaps she was in the garden and couldn't hear me, or maybe stood beside her impossibly loud kettle. But still no answer. So I grabbed my phone and called her after about four rings. She answered, sounding quiet and snuffy like she'd been crying "hello?"

"Hey honey I'm outside"

"Ohh I'm coming" she says hanging up the phone I waited a minute more and she pulled open the door, she stood on her door mat in her little bear claw slippers, long blue gingham pj pants that I'm convinced I once owned but clearly not anymore, her extra large pokemon hoodie with snorlax on the front, her hair up in a messy matted bun with one of her usual spotted fabric ties to hold it up. No make up her face red, dirty and a little spotty. But I didn't care I was so happy to see her

"Hi honeybear" I smiled giving her a tight squeeze and a kiss "I've missed you"

"I missed you too Thomas" she says even if she didn't cuddle me back

"Can I come in?" I asked given we had been on her doorstep for a good minute or two now

"Uhhhhh… well I guess" she sighed letting me in shutting the door behind me as I headed into her little apartment.

I did my best not to react. In anyway. As I know that would make her feel worse. The kitchen was full of dishes and cups and bags of trash by the back door. The floor was dirty and dusty with clothes and bags littered across it. A dominos pizza box with God only knows how old half a pizza in it. Her bed unmade things all over her bedroom and bathroom too. Everything dirty, dusty and messy the whole place has a smell of old food and unwashed… everything it actually seemed as if she hadn't even cleaned or hoovered since I left and honestly by the look and smell of her I'm not sure she'd showered either. And even though the place was a tip she just pushed some laundry to the side and sat down on the sofa with a blanket and her little build a Bear brown teddy wearing bee clothes I made her when we first started dating.

"Uuuuuuuhhh… fuck. I uhhh I didn't think it would be this bad"

"Sorry"

"No no it's uhhh" I began sitting in the chair as best I could "y/n? How'd it get like this?"

"I don't know. Just did I guess everything kinda just exploded and I had to stop and… now I don't really know how to start again,"

"Ohh you poor thing. You see that it's bad right?"

"I see it. I just… don't know where to begin"

"Well sitting in all this isn't going to help I know it's hard sometimes physically impossible but in here now. And I promise I'm going to help as much or as little as you want me too" I told her giving her head a kiss "okay?"

"Okay" she nods

"That's my girl" I cooed "first things first trash because trash is easy" I smiled "I'll do that okay, give you some space to breathe"

I got up and began gathering things up and throwing them away or into the washing pile In Front of her machine just giving it a once over to give us some room to focus until I got to the table "I'm going to be brave here. How long has this been here?"

"I don't remember"

"When did you last order pizza?"

"Yesterday"

"This has been here longer the yesterday"

"Three weeks ago"

"Oh my god. Okay," I sighed quickly getting it into a bag without touching or breathing close to it and she began to cry "whoa whoa what's wrong?" I asked giving her a hug as she cried

"I'm sorry"

"What are you sorry for?"

"Your mad at me"

"I'm not mad at you, I'm not angry at your honeybear I promise I'm not. I'm not angry with you I'm worried about you. You could have gotten so sick just from having that in your living room. You could have gotten really sick." I told her

"I'm sorry I don't know how it all got like this"

"It's alright I know how hard it is sometimes. How about you take buzzy and get a little nap okay" I told her handing her the bear

"But that's-"

"Please. Get some rest don't worry your head it'll do you good" I told her she nods and slithered away to her room so I tucked her in and gave her a kiss "have a nice nap my little honeybear I'll take care of you"

I shut her door quietly and waiting till I could hear her sleeping and I cleaned up everything I could throwing away all the trash putting on a few loads of laundry, I dusted and hoovered and even did all her dishes putting them all away for her I even put on one of her nice wax melts to make the place smell nice. Often sneaking into her room to clean around her bed for her. Even setting her blankets and pillows on the sofa with her little bears so we could cuddle later. She was still asleep so I got my phone and ordered some groceries for delivery as she had no food in the house now, filling her fridge and cupboards to the brim with her favorite snacks, her favorite foods, favorite drinks and making sure to put a bunch of her favorite ice pops in the freezer for her. Once all sorted I smiled and went to her bedroom "honeybear? Helloooooo?" I whispered crawling into her bed peppering her and her teddy with kisses "ummmm hello" I smiled as she began to stir

"Hello Thomas" she cracked a small smile

"Did you have a nice nap?"

"I did"

"Hey, how's about I run you a beautiful bubble bath? Hey? I know you love your bubble baths when did you last have one?"

"I can't remember"

"Uhhh not to be rude y/n how long has it been since you had a shower?"

"I honestly don't remember"

"Yeah didn't wanna say anything but… yeah. I can tell you on your period cause of smells right now"

"I'm not"

"Ohh god. Okay I will run you a nice very bubbly bath" I told her"and maybe we wash buzzy?"

"Okay" she sighed handing over the bear which I quickly put in the machine to wash and dry so it would be ready when she got out her bath I went to her bathroom and ran her a nice hot bath with muscle soak, bubble bath, btah salts, bath… potion? Whatever it is it's going in, all of it lavender or flower scented to keep it all in theme, I got her two bath bombs the first an extra large purple lust bath bomb so scented I'm convinced I may have eaten some I tasted so much on my tounge in fact the bath bomb in her bath the wax melt in the living room were having a scent fight. And I also got her a nice lilac love heart that I sat on her little bath bridge with her scrunchie and her favourite fancy body wash she usually only uses for going out, as well as her honey shampoo and conditioner as they always made her smile and of course they were the reason I called her my honey bear as on an early date as we cuddled up her hair smelt so much of honey I was actually convinced she may have put honey on her head and we laughed about it and had some honey on toast ever since I'd called her honeybear. Once the bath was run and perfect I fetched her "come on little bear time for your bath"

"Fine" she sighed slowly coming in

"You get in and relax while I change your bed okay"

"You don't have to-"

"Get in the tub. Or I'll sheep dip you" I warn her

"Noooo" she whines

"Go on then" I told her so she began to get changed admittedly I couldn't help but look at her having missed her so badly while I was gone but i gave her some privacy and headed back to her bedroom stripping off her bed and immediately three the sheets away I'm not going to try and wash them just throw them away I'll buy her new ones. I went back tidied her room for her flipping the mattress and making the bed with her favorite bedding the little duvet cover and pillow cases white on one side with little bees doing loop the loops and the other side dark orange honeycomb pattern making her bed up with her blankets and pillows and a special place for her bear once he was done in the Washing machine. I imagined y/n would be back by now but she hadn't so I went to the bathroom seeing her sat in the water surrounded by bubbles her legs pulled to her chest

"Ohh y/n" I went over getting a little chair and moving to sit beside her tub at first rubbing her skin with the bubbles "would you like some help?" I asked and she nods "okay, take your ribbon out and we'll wash your hair"

"I did" she says handing me the ribbon she had in her hair and yet her hair hadn't moved

"Okay" well that's a problem.

I got her brush and her conditioner as I would definitely be needing it slowly but surely Washing her hair using her nice shampoo and conditioner brushing the matted knots out of her hair it was clear she'd put it up like this just after I left and hadn't done anything with it since. She was often teary but I always have her kisses and reassured her I imagine it likely hurt alot as I brushed and brushed and brushed using pretty much the whole bottle of conditioner. "There we go all beautiful again" I cooed giving her cheek a kiss as I finished with her hair "hey all pretty. Now you can have your nice … well now lukewarm bath" I told her gently and playfully helping her as she slowly came out of this sadness I was stopped however upon seeing her arms and her thighs that she had done her best to keep hidden all this time I didn't mention in even if I knew some where fresh I just held her hand and brought her arm over giving her skin a million kisses

"Are you upset with me?" She asks

"No. No I'm not it's okay. I just wish you'd role me you wh re feeling that bad. Please I don't want things to get this bad again I'm not upset I'm not blaming you. Just please of it gets this bad please tell me. You know if have thrown home months earlier if id known you were feeling this bad"

"I know. I didn't want to be any trouble"

"It's no trouble really. I'd rather you tell me so I can come home and help you rather then… having to clean up the aftermath. I love you you know I do. hey. my little honeybear. I'm not going anywhere not till your better"

"What if I'm never any better"

"Then I'm not going anywhere. Ever again." I told her "your more important that my job. Always." I told her "you enjoy the rest of your bath I'll get you some nice clean clothes and your teddy okay? Then we'll make cheesy pie," I told her giving her one more kiss and heading out

"Thomas?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you"

"Your welcome"

"I love you very much*

"I love you more"

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ritzy-reminiscence · 2 years

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─🏀─ Slam Dunk : sakuragi hanamichi celebrating haruko's birthday

⸝⸝ summary : title says all, a little fanfic about sakuragi giving haruko a homemade (and delicious) birthday present !

⸝⸝ note : t'was my own birthday a week ago ! turned one year older and now my bones are crumbling to dust as we speak /j also, first-ever time writing for him, so i might edit this as time goes on !

poor thing doesn't know what to give haruko at first. he'll try to ask his friends for ideas but to be honest they weren't much help (god forbid hanamichi gifts her cheap jewelry or plain clothing or a dollhouse-). so after the usual distribution of headbutts for such bad suggestions, mito had the brilliant idea to make hanamichi gift her a home-cooked bento.

and of course, hanamichi took that idea as his own and dragged the others into the nearest market for fresh ingredients. they pooled all the money they could find in their pockets and threatened bargained the store owners into letting them buy it for cheap and walked out with a bag full of vegetables and meat.

at home, the five friends got to work, teaching hanamichi how to make the perfect bento - they instructed hanamichi how to boil an egg without burning the stove; they taught hanamichi how to fry sausages without turning his fingers into soot; they helped hanamichi cook the rice without busting the electric cooker.

"the genius doesn't need anyone teaching him how to cook !" - hanamichi, as his pan starts smoking and flames start appearing.

when the practice-bento was finished, everyone crowded around it for the taste test. admittedly, the potatoes were undercooked and the meat still a bit hard to chew, but for hanamichi's first time cooking a full meal, it was a damn good first try.

look, you can't look at me in the eye and tell me hanamichi doesn't live on cupped ramen and packed food from the local convenience store -

tomorrow arrives - haruko’s birthday.

hanamichi is up before the sun even rose, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he watches over the boiling eggs and the rice bubbling on the cooker.

twice he forgot his friends' instructions and panicked (was it two teaspoons of soy sauce or three?), but he still managed to get it cooked and arranged in a neat little bento box.

steaming, shiny rice goes in one corner, sausages and meatballs go into another; boiled potatoes and eggs cluster together in a little square of warmth and homemade sweet-and-sour sauce sits delicately in its own little place.

so he goes off to school, haruko’s bento box wrapped in a thick, red-gingham patterned cloth.

everything that day seems to pass by in a whirlwind - one moment he and the sakuragi squad was laughing and joking on the train, the next the bell was already ringing for the school lunch.

he was out of his seat before anybody else could exit, and found haruko walking out of her own classroom, laughing with matsui and fijii and then smiling as she spots him.

"hi, hanamichi !" she says, and hanamichi's heart melts into a gooey puddle on the floor. "is that your lunch?" she asks, nodding to the bento box he was holding.

"u-uh, no," he says gruffly, and he bows to her with the bento box outstretched in his hands. "it's for you, happy birthday haruko." even when bowing she can see the intense red blush spreading across his cheeks.

haruko beams, and she takes the bento, admiring the warmth it emitted. hanamichi straightens up. "did you cook this yourself?" she asks, a smile playing around her lips. hanamichi nods.

she beams even wider, her smile as bright as the sun, warm enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. "thank you," she says, and she stands on her tiptoes and gives hanamichi a soft peck on the cheek.

streamers and confetti and the loud, celebratory noise of a party popper erupts from the end of the corridor ; matsui and fijii’s jaws dropped.

hanamichi is shocked. he touches the spot where haruko’s lips met his cheek and opens his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sakuragi squad jumps up from behind him, laughing and patting him on the back.

"congratulations, hanamichi !" "so our all-nighter didn't go to waste !" "hey hey, haruko, didn't you know he almost burned the kitchen last night-"

"SHUT UP !" hanamichi manages to shout, and he gives his four friends a strong headbutt. haruko laughs ; she always did love their weird little antics.

"d-do you like it?" hanamichi asks, his demeanor so different from how he was acting just a second earlier. haruko shrugs. "not sure, want to eat lunch with me and know how it tastes?"

sakuragi squad jumps straight up, shouting at hanamichi to go with her amidst laughter. matsui and fijii gasps out loud and giggles.

"alright, then," he says, blushing intensely as she slips her arm around his. he looks back at his friends as the two of them walk, and sends a dashing grin and a thumbs up.

#୨୧ solari-writes ! ₊˚#sakuragi hanamichi #sakuragi hanamichi headcanons #sakuragi hanamichi fanfiction #haruko akagi #akagi haruko #slam dunk anime #slam dunk fanfictions #slam dunk headcanons

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anna-neko · 1 year

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organizing some files, thinking about International Lolita Day and just... fell down a bit of a rabbit hole which then turned into an existential crisis....

mah dudes, it's one thing when joke "have DVDs older than you" but ... but... but... have a Gothic Lolita burando piece that isn't just "older than you been into this fashion" (not condescending, plz keep at it!), *rubs bridge of nose* this was not an EGL Comm Sales nor LaceMarket "vintage"/second-hand buy THIS WAS BOUGHT BRAND-NEW AT ORIGINAL RELEASE (in dark ages when buying direct-from-Japan needed either u knowing this One Girl on LJ who was going on a trip, or jumping 20hoops for a shopping service! (which was just another lady living in Japan at the time) and hoping they'd spot the piece u wanted) This specific brand, bless, deemed us worthy of international shipping BUT ANYWAY rambles are boring, lets look at pretty pictures instead shall we

Meta calls this piece simply "Gingham Check Tiered Skirt" (ギンガムチェックティアードスカート) seasonal collections or pieces getting fancy names that are sometimes absolutely random girl names or bad engrish translation is a fairly new phenomenon, sometimes a literal description is best

✧ 2005 did u think I was kidding about its age was gifted this lovely skirt, and literally just ... pulled whatever was black/white to wear it out immediately! Hilariously, getting the big butt-bow tied was A Challenge: he couldn't do it because boys can't bows, I couldn't because can't see what doing behind me, his mom couldn't help because she didn't raise girls so out of bows-tying practice....

✦ 2006 - Disney trip, of course brought it We did Lilo and Stitch breakfast and Every. Single. Time. Stitch passed me, he'd tug on the skirt's bow *taps hairbow* made it myself to go with the skirt! (using the very proper GosuLoli Sewing patterns mook no less!) and every couple years a friend send me his FB memories snap he took of me with Princess Jasmine in this, and we both cry over the date

an otaku pilgrimage stop on drive back

✷ 2007 ya hear of burando~whores? Well have we got a treat then a full Meta coord: blouse, skirt and headdress!

something something pale vampire

♡ 2008 One Braincell, Much Frills

very smart ladies freezing in the New England snows, send help. Also, as can clearly see, now with a matching gingham headdress (still Metamorphose, this "brand wh0re" business ain't a joke)

and then went on a trip to London and you freakin bet this was packed along! fondest memory was absolutely fangirling over a life-sized DALEK statue in a bookshop, and someone came up to tell me, "your outfit's brilliant"

♪ 2009 how cool are my loli~friends? We dressed up to go play RockBand and mofo at-home DDR! all you kids with your TikToks and ...and... Zooms.... u will never be this cool

Fun fact: that headdress from before? The tiny bows were detachable! So could use them as separate hairclips for other looks

♫ 2010 - do not think anyone comprehends just how FULL this skirt is! It's 3 gathered tiers, and that bottom one is freakin miles of fabric. Plus the waist ties, and full lining with tulle sewn in

♠ 2011 are you tired of this nonsense yet? 'cause it keeps a~goin!

♢2014 oooh bit of a skip! did own a lot of other pretty dresses, skirt was packed away for a bit fun fact: am actually freezing in NYC winter outdoors.... we went to see a play staring Sir Ian McKellen & Sir Patrick Stewart!!

and finally 2022, on the most freakin FREEZING negative-degrees day in January we went out for honeytoast and I was like .. ya know what... oldskool coord!

is my skirt old enough to drive? ... yes... yes it is.... As always, hope everyone enjoyed and for the love of Mana, don't do the math... OMFG plz don't even try to math this one out

Not writing up coord break-down, other "brands" featured are in no particular order: Fan+Friend, Baby the Stars Shine Bright, rando shit from HotTopic and Kohls (or as the kids say "off brand"), LipService, Bodyline, Secret Shop, Innocent World, AnnaHouse and a bunch of cute Etsy jewelry bits

#egl fashion #Gothic Lolita #plusSize Lolita #old school lolita #metamorphose temps de fille #lolita Fashion #GosuLoli #メタモルフォーゼ #ロリータファッション #ゴスロリ #disclaimer: contains me #loli fashion history #coord #frills #Boston Lolita Society #ha! i called us “Fashion Club” back in the day #sure made it easy to explain when randos on street would ask why all the outfits #i miss having hobbies

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mannatea · 1 year

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Break Open the Sky, a Tales of Symphonia ‘fic (Chapter 4)

Current Word Count: 28,360 Summary: What kind of “Hero” of Regeneration would she be to leave an infant to fend for itself? Someone had to have left it here for a reason. The question was, of course, why? But as she lifted the little thing carefully into her arms, the motion reminding her of nights so far in the past, now, the why seemed almost tragically clear: this baby was of mixed blood. Chapter Summary: Raine and the girls make it to Palmacosta. Pairing/Characters: Raine, Original Characters, will also feature Genis, Regal, and Sheena. Endgame is Regal/Raine. Extra Info: This is technically an Accidental Baby Acquisition story, but I liken it more to “Doorstep Baby” literature because it sure ain’t cute. Rating: Mature, for themes. Genre: Eventual romance, gen, family, character study.

The title is the link to Ao3 for Chapter 4! If you read it please feed me a little comment. I love you x4. 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Notes below the cut:

Finally, Genis is here! There might be a little bit more to that Meltokio party than meets the eye, but we'll get there eventually. In the meantime, Genis gets to be the voice of reason—and he is necessary to temper Raine's anxiety.

Not that she can be expected to think super clearly when she's so stressed out and in pain, but she already felt that the incident in Meltokio was her fault and a pretty big deal. Like wow, way to be a terrible friend to someone you actually really respect and value!!

Regal is probably the #1 most eligible bachelor in the world, so maybe Genis is right and something like a good night kiss hardly even fazed him. He gets a lot of attention and another tiny speck of it would be unlikely to make a difference. Plus, if they're still exchanging letters it's doubtful he's holding it against her.

But for Raine it's still that thing where letters are easy and being around someone in person is harder, especially when she worries her presence might remind them of something she did ages ago.

Before anyone can ask, I'm going with brassiere as a term because I feel like it. I imagine Raine isn't the sort to care much for looking pretty and would opt for something functional and plain and probably loose/adjustable.

So here are a couple of things that I had in mind for this two second mention of Raine wearing a brassiere that got me lost in archives online for hours:

Locke Hill Creek & Locke Hill Crossing are here:

Yellow gingham (for anyone who might not be as familiar with the term/pattern):

Something I really like about the game's treatment of Raine is that they allow her to be a terrible cook but never really dig into the (extremely exhausting and rage-inducing) trope of it being funny because she's a woman. They just let it be a problem she has and leave it at that to joke about on its own terms.

They also don't go out of their way to act like she has no domestic skill at all, which is a huge relief.

I think it makes sense that she might be pretty good at sewing, if only because she would have had to get good at it, and I suspect she might have been the one to make the clothes she and Genis wear in-game; they're so specifically elf-styled (to help them blend in/lead credence to their lie) and with no elves out and about in Sylvarant, it only really makes sense that she is the one who made them (as she's the only one with memories of what they should even look like).

Genis references the "My Sister" skit. I recommend watching with the Japanese voice acting here because it's soooo good.

She's obviously very touched by him saying that but doesn't show her feelings outwardly very well.

This becomes more important later, but Raine isn't exactly ignorant that she's not very good at processing emotion or showing her feelings. She still struggles with it, though, and now that she's looking after more children does try to make an effort to be more naturally/casually affectionate out of almost a fear of setting a poor example. (Like the scene where she tries to comfort Lila and Marcie and goes out of her way to touch them.)

Speaking of Genis again, he was a bit tough to get "right" in this chapter due to the large timeskip (five years is a long time for him). He's 17 going on 18 and we missed some of those formative teen years. I like to think he's still a bit of a sassy brat, but has learned how to watch his mouth a little bit and act more maturely.

I also feel a really strong connection to Raine and Genis's relationship due to my own relationship with my youngest (extremely gifted) sibling, whom I helped to educate (early in life) and raise, and who once told me I was like a second mother to her. I sort of modeled Genis's behavior after hers from around that same age, though only in conversational maturity and studiousness. ;)

It's not that he's not surprised at the situation Raine's found herself in because he is; but he's trying to respond to that in a way that won't also encourage Raine to distance herself from him. They did travel together for 3 of the last 5 years, so he's no stranger to her particular behavior quirks.

Also, there's something to be said for...you know...the fact that it's not as if what has happened can be undone. Now he's just gotta roll with it and try to help!

OC ROLLCALL:

Baby (infant left with Raine; not named)

Lila (10 years old, powder blue hair, blue eyes, half-elf, adopted by Raine)

Marcie (8 years old, ash-blonde hair, hazel eyes, half-elf, adopted by Raine)

Cynthia (half-elf in a merchant caravan who assists Raine briefly)

Next time we head to Altamira! On a ship! 🤢 I'm sure Raine will be very excited for it.

Thank you for reading! If you have time please do take a moment to leave a little comment on Ao3! 🤍

#tales of symphonia #raine sage #mannafics

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sabraeal · 2 years

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Keeping Up with the Joneses

[Read on AO3]

Written for @aeroplaneblues for her birthday! When I asked Anne what she would like for her birthday this year, she suggested we do a birthday exchange-- she drew me a wonderful piece for All Pain Turns to Medicine; and in return, she asked me for an AU I’d already been hoping to get an excuse to write: a Spy x Family AU!

Marta doesn’t often take the train, not at her age. Oh no, old women like her are sedentary creatures, staying in their gingham kitchens with their Wedgewood china while they wait for their children to call. Maybe they might get out for a walk, just to the market and back, to get dinner and see what they neighbors were up to. Why only last week, Dita’s youngest fell from a tree and broke his clavicle, and Lotte’s granddaughter eloped with the postman. Not the one from their village, of course; Arnie was seventy if he were a day, and due to work until the hour his poor body gave up the ghost-- probably delivering the post, too.

But today, she was supposed to be on the train. All fine and good for her; it’s been some time since she went into town, and even if she can’t afford any of the fancy frocks on King’s Street-- ah, Chancellor’s Street, now-- then she can at least get a good look at them. All she needs is a few minutes, and she’ll be able to whip them up with her own machine, maybe even make a second for her daughter, if it’s fashionable enough to please her.

The car lurches to a stop, but Marta’s used to the rhythm of it; she hardly drops a stitch. Back when she was a girl, it’d take a town or two for those big steam engines to slow to a stop, creaking and carrying on the entire time, great gouts of steam spewing from their stacks. Now they stop on a dime without so much as a by-your-leave.

She preferred it, to be honest. All these sleek engines were fine enough, but if you were going to ride faster than a horse could gallop, well, there was nothing wrong with a little drama. Well deserved, in her opinion.

Ah, but that’s not what the children like nowadays. No, it’s all clean lines, shiny and chrome, hurtling toward the future without a care for what came first. Why, when she was a young woman--

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Marta glances up from her stitching, expecting the sort that’s usually heading toward the city, all shuttered eyes and wary expressions. Jaded, that’s what they call it, all above the finest suits the continent has to offer. Style over substance.

Instead, she’s met by wide eyes set over a wider smile, the sort of earnest innocence she hasn’t seen since she was a girl, not much older than the one in front of her. Her suit might be cut close and cinched like the ones in town, but put her in a skirt and shirt and she could have walked right off the farm.

“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re working so hard.” One neat hand gestures to the seat across from her. “But may I sit here?”

She should say no; there’s a body she’s waiting for, one supposedly getting on at this very stop. But still, Marta takes in that autumn red twisted above her tweed and tastes crisp in her mouth, the brisk breezes of her youth chapping her cheeks.

“Well,” she says, straightening on the vinyl. There’s plenty of room for another passenger, should one come along. “I don’t see why not.”

Those pretty eyes crinkle at the edges. “You’re too kind, Miss...?”

“Kino.” A lady doesn’t shake hands-- no matter what’s in fashion now-- but Marta does bob her head, a gesture the girl returns with an even sweeter smile. “Are you traveling far--?”

The speakers crackle overhead, a terrible noise. “Next stop,” it announces with a man’s hard voice, “Express to Tanbarun City. End of the line.”

“Ah,” Marta sighs. “I suppose not.”

Humor catches light in her eyes, setting all its facets sparkling. “It’s a long enough ride between these two stops, so I’ve heard. And I’ve already traveled quite a bit already.”

“Is that so?” She’s not in practice of putting down her stitching once she’s started, not even for the people she waits for, but there’s such a becoming flush to the girl’s cheeks, Marta can’t help but find herself drawn in. “What brings you all the way to town? Can’t imagine you’re going for the shopping, the way I am.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s not for anything interesting.” The girl waves a hand, too humble. “Just work.”

“Work?” Marta blinks, taking in that pretty suit again, unassuming with its olive tweed, and retakes her measure. “You might not think that’s remarkable, but when I was your age, a girl wasn’t allowed to have an occupation. Just a baby in each arm and house she kept for her husband. But here you are, going to the city.”

The young lady flushes; it’s not the precise sort of pink that’s considered pretty nowadays, but there’s something honest in it. “Oh, it’s nothing. Really!”

“Now what is it you do?” She has the sort of face that could sell flowers, or maybe cakes straight from the bakery window. School mistress wouldn’t be out of the question, save that the capital’s a long way to travel for that salary. “Keep shop? Oh, but you’re dressed so sharply, you must be a secretary for someone very important.”

Marta’s hardly prepared for the rueful smile she gives. “A doctor, actually. For the hospital at Lilias.”

Her mouth works. “A...a doctor. Oh my. At Lilias?” The foremost hospital in the country didn’t just hire anyone, not when the Chancellor was one of their patients. “That’s very...prestigious. Are you a, ah, pediatrician perhaps? Or maybe one of those, what do they call them? The skin people.”

“Dermatologists,” the young lady corrects, so polite. To think, she’s a doctor. She hardly looks old enough to sit at a bar, let alone save a life. “And no. I’m a gynecologist. And obstetrician, of course.”

“Oh my.” She might as well be a broken record for as much as she’s been saying that lately. “I hear that’s where the Chancellor sends his wife. Maybe you’ll see her, er...”

There’s no delicate way to complete that thought, no way to wish her success that wouldn’t imply something improper. Still, the woman smiles, wider this time, if a bit distracted. “I hope so, Mrs Kino.”

Marta’s hands twitch, reaching for her stitching if only for something to do. Anything to keep her eyes from wandering, to keep her from wondering whatever happened to the one she was supposed to meet, the one from--

“Approaching Tanbarun City. Final Stop, Tanbarun city,” the speaker cracks, loud enough to make her jump. “Please make sure to remove all your luggage before exiting the car.”

“Oh my, do you mind if I take that paper? The one just under your arm-- yes, there.” Two of her slender fingers resting on the paper’s edge, right where it reads TANBARUN CITY TIMES.

“Oh...” Marta stares down, looking at the bright red 14 written at the top, circled twice. “I’m afraid I’m simply...there’s someone...”

“Ah, of course.” Her eyelashes flutter, nervous, but those fingers don’t move. “But you see, I’m looking for an apartment. Do you think there might be one on White Street?”

Marta drags her gaze up, meeting those wide eyes, green as the fields in spring. If the girl hardly looked like a doctor, she looked even less like-- like--

Expect them on the train to Tanbarun City, the message had said yesterday morning, buried in a personal ad about tropical fish. Last stop before the capital. They’ll ask about an apartment on White Street.

“Oh dear.” Her arm lifts, numb. “You better go ahead then. I hear those ones sell like hotcakes the moment they open up.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m starting early.” Her mouth quirks as she takes the paper, more rueful than sly, but when she glances over it’s with genuine interest. “What is it you’ve been working on, Mrs Kino? I haven’t had the chance to take a very good look.”

“Bees,” she says, stilted, tipping the hoop toward her. “I’ve always quite liked them.”

“Bees,” the girl breathes with a nod. “Code B.”

Marta can only stare as she opens the paper, this girl with the face of her childhood, murmuring, “What’s the world come to when girls like you have to do jobs like this?”

Again, her mouth twists, regret in every wrinkle. “The one we live in.”

She flips it to the first page, pressing it flat on the table, and then, then--

“Oh.” The blood drains from her face, eyes glued to the headline. “Oh no.”

It’s only because the cypher gives her an address that Shirayuki has anywhere to go. Any purpose being in this city, since now, it’s clear, she has none. Not when every corner holds a flag at half mast, and over every doorway hangs a swag of black. On the street corner, the paper boys call out the only headline anyone cares to hear: Extra, extra! The First Lady of Tanbarun Has Died!

She nods when the super offers to show her around the apartment, pointing out the extra bedrooms, the extravagant square footage. It had taken months for Clarines Intelligence to hunt down a place like this, humble yet chic, not too run down for a royal physician but also not too grasping, something that wouldn’t draw too much attention with a single woman living in it. To hear Zen talk, the Director had rejected almost fifty flats out of hand before he finally-- reluctantly-- put his stamp on this one. And now the only amenity she cares to hear about is--

“A phone?” Her head whips around. “Did you say there was a phone?”

“Oh, yes.” The super grins, puffed with pride. He’s a larger man, at least in one dimension, looking positively jolly when he tells her, “A private line, too. No need to share with the neighbors! The city just came by to install it a week ago, free of charge.”

The city. She stifles a sigh. The Director’s truly brazen, sending men to impersonate the government.

Still, once she’s finally seen the super out, it’s hard to fault him. It’s never been the plan to speak over the wire, not when it was child’s play-- Kiki’s words, not hers-- to tap one. But there’s still a number scrawled in her address book, filed under “Sampson, Osamu S.” that’s for emergency use. Not something to use on the first day, but, well-- her first day is an emergency.

Making a call like this is already twisting her nerves in knots, but just the thought of making it on a party line, having to twist this situation into something so oblique the nosy ladies in the building can’t find it suspicious enough to report...

Shirayuki grimaces, anxiety building with each turn of the dial. Sometimes one has to be grateful for small miracles. Even if they’re orchestrated by a meddlesome Director.

“Shirayuki?” Her stomach twists at the familiar voice, thick with sleep. It’s only nine, and already this whole mission has fallen to pieces. “Is that you? Are you all--?”

“Darling,” she says, clipping her words to keep them from shaking. “I have bad news.”

“D-dar--?” Zen coughs, feet hitting the floor with a thump. Or at least, she’s hoping its just his feet. “W-what is--?”

“It’s the dishwasher.” Her heels clack as she paces the floor, leashed by the phone’s coiled cord. “It looks like the unit doesn’t have one, even after we paid all that money to have it installed.”

“Dishwasher?” His voice is crisper now, more awake. “What do you--? What’s going on?”

“Super says the dang thing didn’t arrive, can you believe it?” Shirayuki claps her hand over her mouth, stifling the squeak on that last word. She can’t do this; she’s a doctor, not a spy, but still, still--

With a shake, she continues, too bright, “I called the company though, and it’s the damnedest thing. They think it’s gone to the wrong apartment. Do you think you could check the, uh, papers?”

“The...papers?”

“For the address.” Her fingers tangle in the cord, the only thing keeping her grounded. “You know, in case I made a mistake. Silly me.”

His snap is muffled through the phone, but she can make out, “Get me the paper. Tanbarun Times, on my desk, yesterday. There we are. Now--” the line goes utterly, terribly silent, a clear sky before a storm. “Damn. Damn. The First Lady--”

“Oh, yes, it definitely looks like I’m the first lady to live here,” she giggles, tight and nervous. “And those pictures we saw of the bedrooms were certainly generous. Our mattress looks so big in there! Maybe we need to change the scale of things.”

“Right.” Zen’s breath shudders through the line, his distress enough to make even her knees wobble. “Change the scale. I-- I think we can do that. Just let me--” she can just imagine him now, eyes closed, nose pinched between his finger; how between one blink and the next he’d grow steady, a solid place to put her weight upon-- “just hang on, honey. I’ll see this gets all sorted out.”

“Thank you.” Relief radiates down her spine, her limbs trembling. “I don’t know how I would have handled this all myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” This is where he’d lay a hand on her shoulder if she was with him, exuding the sort of easy confidence only man like him can. “It’ll be handled. Just...take care. Until I see you again.”

Her breath catches. “Right, right. Until I see you.”

The line goes dead, silence ringing in her ears. And into it, Shirayuki scowls.

“All right.” She glares down at the dial, hoping it travels through the wire as well as her voice does. “I know you’re there.”

It’s silent for a long moment, just that empty space of a line disconnected, but-- then there’s a laugh.

“Oh, what?” Izana Wisteria, Director of Clarines Intelligence hums. “No darlings for me?”

“You must understand, Ms Lyon,” the Director begins, once she’s taken a seat. She’s found most conversations with him are improved upon by sitting down, preferably with a strong drink. Unfortunate that he didn’t see fit to send her a housewarming gift; she’s missed the wines here, and with his budget, he could afford the best. “We are in a tight spot with regards to Tanbarun.”

It’s impossible to imagine the Director ever being in a tight spot, not unless it was one of his own making. “So there won’t be any rescue.”

“I wasn’t under the impression that you were the sort of woman that needed rescuing.” If she closes her eyes, she can picture his smirk, so self-satisfied and sly where he lounges behind his desk. “This is your dream, isn’t it? A post at the much vaunted Lilias Hospital. The opportunity to work with like-minded colleagues that can keep up with you.”

Her cheeks burn against the receiver. “That was a private conversation. And I believe I said keep pace, not...that.”

“You should know by now, Ms Lyon, but privacy is merely a matter of how many ears you perceive hearing you, not how many there are.” His drawl rankles, but the Director’s not in the habit of leaving her space to reply. Oh no, instead he tells her, “You’ll stay at Lilias for the time being.”

I earned this position myself, she wants to say, I don’t need your permission to keep it.

“I thank you for the opportunity,” she manages instead, words eking through her teeth. “But really, I don’t think this arrangement--”

“I understand that your mission’s parameters have changed.” She can hear his grin as he adds, “You can hardly serve as a private physician without your patient. However, it would take us years to place someone in as trusted position as yours. Very few people can come across the border and have the potential to access to the First Family so quickly.”

“I’m a doctor, Izana.” Her fingers clench white around the cord. “Not one of your assets. I only agreed to this because it was supposed to help--”

“It still will,” he insists. “Just in a different capacity than the one we planned for you. One that won’t interfere with your duties at the hospital.”

“Why me?” It’s the same question she’s been asking since he approached her with this offer. She’s simply a doctor, not some diplomat trained in the ways to keep countries at peace. “Don’t you have anyone else who can--?”

“No.” The word freezes her to the tips of her toes. “Didn’t you read past today’s headline?”

“I...” The paper’s just on the table, within arm’s reach. It only takes two fingers to pull it toward her, a pinch to open it. Print sprays down its columns, tight and concise, and it takes a moment for her eyes to focus, for them to find-- “Oh.”

TANBARUN SECRET SERVICE BUSTS ESPIONAGE RING IN CAPITAL. Beneath it, there’s a picture of three men on the ground, the masked servicemen putting knees into their backs. Clarines corruption ranges far and wide so close to home!

“There are others,” Izana murmurs, softer now. “Positioned well for the game we thought we would be playing. But now it will take time to gain the toehold we lost. You’re our best bet at getting close enough to the Chancellor to make a difference.”

“All right,” she breathes, fingertips brushing over the woman in the corner, sobbing as a serviceman hauls her away. “What do I need to do?”

“That depends.” She can hear his smile as he says, “How do you feel about children?”

This meeting is going on forever. Ren might be getting paid by the hour, but this is ridiculous.

“You think this guy can get on with it?” he huffs, leaning against a pillar. “I know it’s the dream to blow your wad on girls and cigars, but c’mon. It’s been two hours.”

“What?” Jun huffs, his ugly mug getting uglier as he grins. “Jealous he can last that long?”

“Fuck you. They’re just eating or whatever.” He shrugs. “Seems a waste when they’re nickel n’ diming you every minute. Not like it matters to them if they get dinner first.”

Jun’s hulking shoulders lift and split like mountains. “It’s the principle of the thing. You get some girls, you show them a good time, you f--”

Ding.

They both straighten, glaring at the elevator as the arrow settles on 13. This floor. One that the boss had made sure to rent out, all private-like.

“Is there another girl?” Jun asks, getting to his feet.

Ren squints like he might be able to see through the metal if he tried hard enough. “He’s already got four. What’s he gonna do with another? Human body doesn’t even got that many holes.”

The doors slide open, slow like a striptease, and standing there--

It’s some guy. Average height, dark hair, dressed to the nines in some suit Ren knows didn’t come off the rack. Foreign, now that he’s got a good look. Not from around here.

“You think the boss sent for him?” he mutters, but Jun shakes his head. “Hey, you lost, pal?”

“Dunno.” The guy shrugs, tugging at his glove. “This where the party is?”

“Party?” Jun frowns at him. “Don’t think you’re invite--”

He never finishes his sentence. He’s too busy trying to pull the knife from his throat.

“Let’s try this again.” The guy saunters up, hard soles clacking against the marble. With one tug, blood sprays across the floor, spattering onto his cuff. Jun hits the floor. “That’s gonna be hell to get out. Anyway.” He spins toward Ren, knife pointing toward the door. “That where the party is?”

Oh hell, he’s not paid enough for this. “Y-yeah.”

The guy nods. “Brennan?”

“Uh...uh-huh.”

His mouth splits into a grin. “Good. Hate to get the wrong guy.”

The double doors on that room took both him and Jun to open, but this guy flings them wide, standing there like some maestro in front of his ensemble. Like he’s the conductor, and oh boy, is this band gonna play. “Councilman Brennan?”

“Wh-who are you?” the boss cries out, but Ren can’t bear to look. Not when he closes his eyes and all he sees is red. “Get this man out of here.”

“Terribly sorry to interrupt.” Another knife leaps to his hand, the way cards do during a trick, but oh, Ren knows this one won’t shock and amaze. “But may I have the honor of taking your life?”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #spy x family AU #my fic #ans #man i had so much obi & ryuu planned for this one but i had to cut for pacing #next chapter though #gonna get some fun obi stuff #and shirayuki learning just how she feels about kids

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