#i have the SECOND desk from the theatres at my dad's house AND his mom's desk

[meyerlansky]

longtime listeners may remember The Desk Dilemma from earlier this year, tl;dr my uncle, who passed away very suddenly in january, inherited this fuckhuge rolltop desk that was my great-grandfather's, and while my dad and his siblings were taking care of the estate i asked if i could have the desk, and my dad, aunt, and uncle were all like "pfft i mean if you can foot the bill to get it to your apartment" and i was debating how much money to spend on getting it here from three states away

WELL GUESS WHAT MOTHERFUCKERS

I FUCKING GOT IT!!!!!!! CAL FOR SCALE!!!

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: talks of spencers major anxiety, parental death tw (not Diana or bob and Linda), trauma talks, computer hacking and new members joining the family...

word count: 4k

from the beginning <3

Taylors biggest surprise that weekend was what she had planned for Amoreena that night.

She set up a fort in the theatre room, they had every snack imaginable and any movie of her choice to watch. Karaoke in the corner, popcorn being popped in a theatre-style machine, and 3 different, matching child and adult, princess dresses for them to choose from.

It was all an elaborate plan to keep her preoccupied until bedtime, which Taylor offered to handle so that her parents could have a little wedding night date alone.

They’re all ready for a wonderful night when Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Spencer answers, sneaking away from the girls so he could hear better.

“Spencer, I am so sorry to interrupt you this late, but we have a situation… it’s not something that should be discussed over the phone. Do you have someone to watch Amoreena while you and Y/N come into the bureau? As soon as you can?”

His stomach drops, he feels instantly sick. “Not until you tell me who’s dead, who’s dying or who’s trying to kill us.”

“No one is, Spencer, it’s not a case or criminal related, it’s… personal, someone is here to see you,” she sounds serious and Spencer is still just as worried.

“I’ll tell the girls,” he responds before hanging up.

Y/N is standing right behind him, listening with wide eyes as she waits to soothe his panic. They worked like a well-oiled machine, she could physically feel his anxiety and in return, something about her just being there made him physically feel better.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks as she appears behind Y/N, Amoreena now off changing into one of the dresses she picked.

“They won't tell me on the phone but they need me and Y/N back at Quantico as soon as possible,” Spencer explained with a pale face, “we can go in the morning.”

“I’m fine watching Amoreena for the night, there’s a hanger down the road with a few of my dad’s planes, I can have someone take you to Virginia within the next hour? It's only 7 pm, I’m sure you can be back before bedtime?” Taylor offered her services for the 100th time that day, “It’s not a problem, really, and they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, they’re the FBI after all.”

With that, they said goodbye to Amoreena and told her they’d be back before she woke up in the morning. If not, she had Y/N’s cellphone for the night to call them before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up, so she won't bother Taylor that early. (Even though Taylor said she wouldn’t mind early morning Amoreena cuddles.)

He was anxious on the drive to the small airport, the old man named Norman, chartering them that night was incredibly kind, they were granted lading access in Quantico and before he could prepare, they were up in the air. He chatted up a storm with Y/N on the headset radio as Spencer overthought the upcoming chat with JJ and stared out at the world below them.

On queue, he jumped from anxious to scared when they land, before getting in the shuttle from the airstrip to the front entrance, but he’s so incredibly terrified when it comes time to actually start the walk to the bullpen.

“Will you come in with me?” His small voice asks as she is pinning a visitors tag on her shirt.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking his hand as they walked into the elevator together.

He grips her hand tighter as the elevator stops, dipping and returning to the right height and making his stomach drop the same way a rollercoaster would. He hated that feeling more than anything, having it alongside the anxiety wasn’t helpful.

He can see JJ and another girl sitting together at his old desk. She’s smiling at whatever JJ says, she looks exactly like Amoreena just with box-dyed black hair that shines purple under the lighting. She’s in all black, she pushes her glasses up her nose with her sweater hiding her hands, Spencer knows she’s a foster kid from just her posture.

“JJ,” Spencer makes their presence clear and the little girl turns to him with a huge smile, running to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hi?”

She’s sobbing ten and he doesn’t know why or even who she is, he lightly holds her with complete shock on his face. He stares at JJ with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he communicates the confusion and terror with his eyes.

“This is Josephine Elliot, or Jo as she likes to be called, her parents passed away a few months ago and she recently found out her biological father was actually a sperm donor and not her moms husband,” JJ explains a little before sighing and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“She hacked into the sperm bank and found your name, and google led her to the FBI and they stopped her at the second gate, the first only let her in thinking she was your other daughter, Amoreena.”

“I’m so sorry,” the poor girl wipes her tears with her sweater sleeves, “I don’t know why I hugged you when you don’t even know me, ew sorry.”

Spencer pulls her back into a hug, “it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about wanting a hug ever again. You can have whatever you need from me.”

She cries more, holding on to his shirt as he holds her, shushing her softly and rubbing his hand over her back. It’s weird how safe she seems this early in their acquaintance with one another, but he understands it. She’s so desperate for someone related to her to love her again, to replace what she was missing from her parents, that she’s already accepted him as a father without thinking it through. Without even know what he would be like to her.

When she finally calmed down enough, Spencer led her towards the briefing room so they could have a moment alone to talk. He wanted to know her, and she needed to know him before she made another big decision. He let her know who he was, what he used to do and the rundown on his relationship with Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you met her at the park and got married a week later because you both have dead exes and somehow through fate, you made a kid together?” She summed it up in a way that made it sound ridiculous.

“Mutual trauma is a great bonding tool, I’m sure you probably listen to rock music or anything sad and angry because you know someone feels the exact same way you do? I was like that when I was a teenager. We've both lost someone we loved and then made Amoreena out of pure luck,” he combated her snarky summary with his own profile of her.

“I actually like Taylor Swift, Paramore, Evanescence and Olivia Rodrigo when I need to scream about being sad, thank you very much,” she teased him, finding a very easy rhythm as they got to know one another.

“You’re going to lose your mind when you find out who’s with Amoreena right now,” Spencer smiles, somehow everything just fits together.

“What?” She looks so confused, scrunching her face the same way he did to push her glasses up without her hands.

“It’s a long story, but essentially we were at Taylor Swift’s house when JJ called, she’s watching Amoreena still,” Spencer explained, watching her jaw drop.

“Who the fuck are you, dude?” She whispered, and it took Spencer by surprise. “Sorry, I’m so used to swearing in front of adults lately to get my point across. But seriously, you’re so interesting…”

“Understandable,” Spencer laughs lightly at her strange compliment. “I have a lot of connections, and I’ll do anything to see the people I love, smile, that includes you now.”

“You barely know me and you’re just ready to accept that I’m your kid? Didn’t this just happen to you last week?” She laughs at the insanity of it all, “you’re going to have a million kids at this rate, dude.”

Again, she calls him dude and he knows she’s just trying to distance her emotions as they grow fonder and fonder. A coping mechanism so that she doesn’t get hurt anymore, she’s lost too much and she’s not going to love him just to lose him too.

“My dad ran out on me when I was a kid, I basically raised myself when my mom’s schizophrenia got bad, I know what it’s like to feel alone even when you’re with people who are supposed to love you,” he makes sure she knows who he is inside.

“I’m sorry,” she reaches a hand out for him, holding it softly. “I never really liked my dad growing up, he always felt off… I can’t explain it, but he was never the same guy twice he was either angry, miserable or scarily happy," she explains him and all Spencer can think is how he sounds like an unsub.

"I do miss my mom a lot, I didn’t know what else to do when I found out they couldn’t have babies together and she went to a Sperm bank without telling him. I know the names of your other kids too, besides Amoreena, I’m really surprised you found her mom without hacking the system too but, yeah, Dylan is 6 and Alice is 10, they’re both in DC with the same 2 mom’s, so if you didn’t want me, I was going to see if they would cause I’m technically their stepdaughter in a weird way and if I spent one more day in that foster home I would have ended it all,” it's a Reid rant, she's his for sure.

It takes him a minute to absorb it all, “wait, Amoreena is mine for sure?”

She nods like it’s a stupid question, “could you not tell my just looking at her? The 3 of us have the same face.”

“No, they wouldn’t tell us at the clinic,” Spencer is still in shock but more so that she got into the database so easily, “how did you do it?”

“It was easy, I had all the information about the sample my mom used so I just encrypted an email to the secretary of the sperm bank so as soon as she clicked the link to read more I’d have access to her computer, they didn’t even know I was in the system, they probably still don’t know I was there,” she explains it exactly how Penelope would.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever not want you,” Spencer holds her hand a little tighter, “I’m not sure what the process will be like trying to get the foster agency to agree to me taking you home with us, but I’ll see what I can do. We have a big house and enough room for you in our hearts if this is where you’d like to be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, you might hate the farm life and the isolation and all the cousins you now have, but you’re a piece of me and I’m not letting you go.”

She uses her free hand to wipe her tears on her sleeve again, “please, I know it’s not going to be the same but I miss having a family so much.”

He wraps her up in his arms, he knows the feeling all too well. One day his mom was there, the next day she was gone and no one prepared him for that. She never had to do this alone, Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

“Y/N is wonderful, you’ll love her and Amoreena. We live on a huge farm and there’s a lot to do during the day and people to spend time with, believe me, you’re going to feel so surrounded by the love you won’t know what to do with it all,” he shares from personal experience.

“Okay,” she hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck as he talked more, feeling the vibrations of his voice on her forehead to know that he was real. That his words were true and she was going to be taken care of.

“Is there anything about yourself that you’d like me to know? Or any questions you have? I’m sure this is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Spencer asked as he pulled away, looking down into her sweet eyes and seeing the hope she was still hanging on to.

“Is Y/N even okay with all of this? It’s her house isn’t it?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she knew I had you and the other 2 out there somewhere, we just never expected to meet you so soon,” he’s as honest as possible, talking to her the same way he would with Henry, she seemed even more mature than him.

“Can she come in here too? I’d like to get to know her as well, see if she’s really as lovely as you say she is,” she smiled, coping with her trauma the same way he and Y/N did, with humour.

Almost like Y/N could feel him thinking about her, she knocked on the door before opening it a crack, “sorry, I have some updates,” she smiled.

Josephine smiled at her, “come in.”

Y/N sat down close to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “my sister is a foster parent, she called her caseworker and they were able to rush the emergency next of kin paperwork, you can stay with us for as long as you would like to.”

“You’re serious? You barely know me?” She kept repeating that as if she convinced herself earlier in the day that they wouldn’t want to know her.

Y/N wrapped her up in a soft hug and Spencer saw all the tension leave Josephines body as she settled against her. It had been a long time since a mother held her, she didn’t realize how much she needed it until she was in her arms.

“You’re half Spencer, so by default you have a portion of my heart now too. I’m not going to love you as an obligation or because I feel like I have to, I love you because you’re part of him and our family,” she whispers into her hair, “I know what it’s like to be alone, you never have to be... unless we’re smothering you then I get it, but you know what I mean.”

She laughed in Y/N’s arms before pulling back. Y/N held her face in her hands and looked at her gently. She ran her fingers through her dyed hair, “you’re going to fit right in with the 4 of us.”

“Four?” She repeats, wondering who else they lived with.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N smiles as Josephine lights up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a big sister,” she cried a little, “my mom named me after Jo from Little Women, she said she always planned to give me lots of sisters.”

“If this one is a girl she’ll be Eleonora like—“

“Like the poem, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourites,” Jo smiled again.

Somehow, without even being there, Amoreena’s mess of glitter glue was able to patch her older sister's broken heart right then and there too.

“I read really fast, my mom said she was going to go bankrupt buying books for me,” she opened up more and more, the hurt of the memories fading as she remembered them with happiness instead of mourning.

Her mom was gone, but the love of a mother filled her space once more. Y/N took her under her wing, keeping her warm and making sure he grew to be as happy healthy and wonderful as all her other babies.

—

They arrive at Taylor's door once again at 11:30. Amoreena is sound asleep in the spare room, not even able to change out of her princess costume or phone them to say goodnight. Taylor said she had a sugar crash and just asked to go to sleep, reminding Taylor that she had the best day ever before closing her tired little eyes.

Jo was very anxious to meet Taylor too, telling her a similar story to Y/N’s from just a few hours prior. Taylor made sure she was comfortable for the night in another spare room, making her a hot chocolate and some snacks from earlier that day at lunch. She was the best host, a wonderful friend and an even better honorary godparent to these girls of Spencer’s.

“Can I have a hug?” She sheepishly asks before she has to turn down the hall to her bedroom for the night.

Spencer answers by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest once more, he wasn’t sure how his heart could hold so much love for these girls, and still have room left to make more one day. It was a dream come true to have a family this big, no one was going to believe that he gained 3 kids and a wife in under a month.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, seeing her smile at the contact let him know it was fine. “Goodnight dad,” she whispers, pressing her lips together awkwardly the same way he did before turning down the hall and disappearing into her room.

She had only a backpack of things currently, not expecting everything to go as smoothly as it did. She had enough clothes to sleep in, and Taylor happily provided some old tour perch to her just in case she needed something new to wear. Something to help her ease to sleep that didn’t feel like she was going back to her old life in the morning.

Amoreena was going to have a field day tomorrow when she met her big sister, the beautiful girl who was busy covering her scars with bandaids provided by Spencer, but it would take a lot of time, effort and care to make her feel truly healed again. It was going to be interesting seeing Amoreena adjust to sharing him so early, especially since he knew Jo would need so much more attention to ease her anxiety moving forward.

Spencer sat on the guest bed beside Y/N, noticing all the rose petals and candles on the dresser and night tables, “oh she really had a lot planned for us.”

“She’s the fairy godmother of our dreams,” Y/N agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind staying up late tonight if you don’t mind leaving on Monday instead?”

“I was going on suggest the same thing,” he smiled at her, leaning in to press their lips together gently for the first time since the wedding that afternoon.

“let's get into our comfy’s and go for a walk on the beach, Taylor left me the keys to lock up when we come back,” she whispered the words against his lips before smiling.

“Can I call Derek before we go? I really need to talk to him,” he’s honest with her as he pulls away, feeling really anxious and shook up at the events of the day. He needed his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ll go check out the rest of the guest house, come find me when you’re done?” She says softly, getting off the bed with a smile and stepping out of the room with a small wave.

He takes his phone out and dials the number, waiting with the phone pressed against his ear as it rings. Again and again, every new hum in his ear making his heart beat faster, “hello?” He’s finally rescued.

“Have you talked to anyone on the team lately?”

“Who died?” It was everyone’s go-to question when they got a phone call like this one.

“No one, quite the opposite actually—“

“She’s pregnant!” Derek shouts, cutting him off and Spencer can hear Savannah asking who from the background.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I'm calling,” Spencer replies only to be met with Derek's laughter.

“Penny and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“She cheated because she knew we were trying,” Spencer takes the fun from him, Penelope always won. “I have another kid.”

“I know man, birth is so cool— well I’m telling him anyway,” Derek is clearly talking to Savannah and him at the same time, “we’re pregnant again too.”

“No, Derek, I’m pregnant and sick as hell while you’re perfectly fine,” she snaps back at him as she takes the phone. “You better be so kind to her Doctor Spencer Reid; rub her feet, make her breakfast, thank every god on earth and the ground she walks on for being willing to make another version of you, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer hold back a laugh, wondering when Y/N would have a hormonal switch like that, “but I didn’t mean the one in her stomach, another fully formed human of my creation walked into the BAU looking for me today.”

There’s a rustling through the phone as Derek takes it back from her, “what the fuck did you just say?”

“Her name is Jo, she’s exactly a month younger than Henry and her parents died 7 months ago,” he continues without even repeating the last part, “Derek I have 3 kids now and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In Taylor Swift's guest house.”

“Spencer, be serious with me, are you doing drugs again?"

“Ask Penelope, she contacted Portia, Rossi’s stepdaughter, who contacted Taylor so I could help Y/N and Amoreena meet her, then JJ called and made us fly all the way to Quantico and now I have 2 children living with me and one on the way. Not to mention, child 1 is extremely jealous about sharing me with people and hasn’t even gotten accustomed to being a big sister, and child 2 is so traumatized she hacked the fucking sperm bank and explained it to me like it was as easy as making a sandwich. I am in over my head here, Derek.”

“Okay, that sounded more like Spencer Reid,” Derek’s calm and happy voice calms him slightly and prompts him to take a deep breath. “If she’s able to hack she’s most likely like Penelope, we can introduce them. She’ll need someone who understands the loss of a parent. Amoreena, on the other hand, you need to spend a day with just her. Take her to the movies, or to see a play or something. Let her know she’s always going to be your little girl no matter how many siblings she gets.”

“Thank you, I needed someone who wasn’t my overly optimistic wife to tell me if I could do it,” he’s overly honest, Derek is his person and will always be his person.

“I get it, thanks for calling me, I’m really glad you’re okay,” he can hear Derek's smile and all he wants is a hug from him. “How was the wedding?”

“Good, we all cried a lot,” he laughs then, “we were supposed to have a big dinner on the beach before we got called into Quantico, so I’m going to go spend time with her now, I love you, Derek,” he rushes the words out so he doesn’t get overly emotional.

“I love you too, Spencer, have a good night,” Derek hands up before they both get too emotional. They always had a knack for making the other cry in times like this.

He lets out a deep sigh before tossing his phone on the bedside table. 3 of his 5 kids were here with him and Y/N now, safe and sound. If anyone else needed him, they could wait.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

[bonjour-rainycity]

Imagine: Being friends with Alice and asking Carlisle for help on your chemistry homework

Characters: Cullen family, female reader

Rating: G

Word count: 2120

Warnings: None

Request by anon: Wait, omg I’m so happy I found a blog that’s updated recently and I’m definitely gonna ✨stalk✨ your blog and read all your writing after hw but if you’re still doing requests, I thought of something that I would just love to see written. And this could be short or something, y’know? It can be whatever you want it to be, but what if the reader is somewhat friends with the Cullens? Reader (maybe like 20 years old?) is invited to their house one weekend after bumping into Alice and becoming friends and from passing conversation, reader knows that Carlisle is a doctor so she asks him if he could help her with her organic chemistry hw cause she’s studying to be a med student? 

A/n Wow I’m so sorry this took me so long! It’s such a cute request and I loved writing it! Thanks for sending it in and for being patient with me :)

Shoot.

Mentally, I groan, stopping my progress towards my car.

I still have chem homework.

I fiddle with the keys in my hand, contemplating. You could go home…lay in bed…maybe with a pint of ice cream…and pass out in a stress and sugar-induced coma.

Oh, how tempting.

But then I remind myself of why I’m putting myself through the hell that is a STEM degree, and turn on my heel, heading back to campus. I know I won’t get any work done if I go home, so the library it is! Thank goodness it’s open twenty-four hours, because it’s creeping up to eleven and I don’t have the heart to return to one of the academic buildings.

Seeing as it’s Friday night, the library isn’t crowded. Still, I push past all the tables on the first floor and head up to my favorite spot on the second. Settling in at my favorite partially secluded table, I pull out my organic chemistry textbook, pop in my earbuds, and get to work.

{***}

A small, pale hand skims over the table near my book, and I look up with a start.

Alice Cullen stands by my desk, clutching a set of books that look too heavy for her thin arms, but she seems to be managing fine. She and I met during the first week of classes, and have been tentative friends ever since. We don’t see much of each other, given our varying degree programs, but she always greets me with a friendly smile and an offer to join her to study. I pull out my headphones, and give her a tired smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good!” She smiles excitedly, somehow keeping her energy levels at—I check the time on my phone—1:12 am! “Have you been here for long?”

I shrug, feeling the weight of the late hour on my shoulders. “Since around eleven. I was going home but then I forgot I have o-chem homework. I don’t think it should be taking me this long, but I’m struggling. Thankfully only half of it is due in the morning. The rest isn’t due until after the weekend.”

Alice peers over to look at my book and the problems I work through in my notebook. “Oh, those do look hard. But you know, my dad is a doctor, and he probably knows this stuff like the back of his hand. He’d be more than happy to help you.”

I blanch. An invitation to the Cullen’s house? And free help on o-chem homework?

But then I remember my manners. “Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t—”

“Please,” she squeaks, balancing her books in one arm and using the other to retrieve her phone. “We’d be happy to have you over! I’ll let my family know. Does tomorrow around lunchtime work?”

“Uh,” I swallow, not sure I’m believing my ears. “That works great, thank you! I can bring the food?”

She shakes her head, waving off the offer. “Don’t worry about it—Mom loves to cook and will be excited to really use the kitchen. Oh! And there’s this new series my sisters and I have been dying to watch. It’s called Broadchurch. Have you heard of it? Maybe we can start it and see if it’s any good!”

I nod dumbly, too tired and relieved for the help to refuse again. “That sounds fun! Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles, shrugging like it’s nothing. “What are friends for?”

My smile softens. She considers us friends. “Do you want to walk out together? It’s pretty late.”

She beams and waits while I collect my stuff.

{***}

I pull up to the front of the massive house.

Alice is waiting for me on the porch. She waves excitedly, and I notice her fiancé standing near the door, looking uncomfortable. I stifle a chuckle. It’s well-known that Jasper, introvert in every sense of the word, fell hard for Alice who is the embodiment of an extravert. I wave, grabbing my backpack and stepping out of the car.

“Welcome,” Alice practically shouts. Jasper gives me a polite nod.

I smile at the two of them, calling out my hello’s and climbing the stairs to the porch. The second Jasper opens the door, I’m greeted by the warm smile of Esme Cullen.

“Hello, Y/n, welcome to our home! We are so happy to have you here.” She extends a warm smile, one I can’t help but return immediately.

Alice leads us straight to the living room, where two of her adoptive siblings, Emmett and Rosalie, lounge. Rosalie sketches something I can’t see, and Emmett yells loudly at the TV, losing at a video game.

“Beat it, Emmett,” Alice chirps, dancing over and taking the controller from his hands. “We’re going to watch Broadchurch.”

Putting his frustration at the game aside, Emmett grins, standing and ruffling Alice’s hair. “Alright, I was getting my ass kicked anyway. Hey, Y/n, good to see you again.”

I return his greeting, familiar with Emmett from an intro to theatre class we had together last semester. The image of his interpretation of Juliet for our final project comes to mind, and I have to stifle a laugh. Emmett goes to leave the room, pulling Jasper with him.

“Send Bella down, would you,” Alice calls after them, already settling on the couch. “Rose, you know Y/n, right?”

Rosalie looks up from her sketching. She smiles briefly at me, then returns to her task. I sit awkwardly next to Alice, waiting for Bella so we can start the show.

“There aren’t many women in STEM.”

My head shoots up, wide eyes turning in Rosalie’s direction. She doesn’t look up from her work, but I know she’s addressing me—Alice is studying fashion merchandising and design.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer. Alice’s older sister is just so intimidating. Well-spoken, obviously intelligent, tall, prettier than anyone I’ve ever met, and top of her law class. She’s not exactly warm either, like her mother or sister—even now, there’s a cold bite to her tone. But the edges of her lips quirk up, and I can tell she’s being nice.

“Don’t let the guys push you around. What you’re doing is important, and you’re probably smarter than them. What do you want to do with your degree?”

The answer, always on my heart and mind, is automatic. “I want to be a doctor. So, med school is next.”

She nods once. “Good.”

And apparently that’s the end of our conversation.

I try to hide my smile by rummaging around in my backpack for my water bottle. It’s nice to feel supported.

Bella comes gliding down the stairs and twists into the living room, folding herself easily onto the love seat. She greets me, and then tosses me the throw over the back of her couch. Alice nods as if forgetting something, then reaches into a basket hidden between our couch and Rosalie’s chair and produces three more blankets, throwing two to her sisters and keeping one for herself. She shoots me a grin as each of us, even the serious Rosalie, snuggles up.

Alice stands, turning off the lights and then wraps back in her blanket and scoots near me on the couch. “I hope this is good!” With a grin, she opens Netflix and plays the first episode.

{***}

Broadchurch does not disappoint. Before I know it, we’re halfway through the second episode, eyes glued to the screen. Bella, who was definitely reading a book under her blanket at the start, has put it to the side, leaning forward and watching the show intently.

The front door creaks, then clicks closed, and Alice smiles, pressing pause on the remote. “Dad’s home.”

Before long, the famed local doctor comes in to say hi to the girls and to greet me. He’s just as welcoming as his wife!

“Alice told me you are having trouble with some organic chemistry homework?”

I nod, hoping it’s not too much to ask for his help. “I got a good start on some of the problems last night, but I keep messing up. I’m not really sure where I’m going wrong—there’s no answer key so I can’t work backwards through the problems.”

He nods, casually resting his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “I remember o-chem homework quite well.” He grins conspiratorially. “It is the bane of many a med student’s existence. Why don’t you girls finish up your episode and then join Esme and me in the kitchen for lunch? I can take a look at your homework if you like.”

Relief washes over me. “That would be great, thank you so much.”

He smiles warmly. “Of course. Now, if you all will excuse me….” With a twinkle in his eye, he leaves us to rejoin his wife.

This family is so nice! I wonder why they get so much flack at school?

Alice resumes the episode, and soon my musings are washed away as I try to piece together the mystery of the murder before the detectives can.

{***}

Esme is a wonderful cook. Carlisle sings her praises but doesn’t fix a plate for himself, saying he ate plenty as she was cooking. We all sit down at the table, though I’m the only one who eats in earnest — Bella claims to be filled up on snacks, Rose says she’s on a diet, and Alice takes a small helping for herself, every now and then poking the chicken in mild disgust. I don’t see what the problem is, the food is fantastic!

Carlisle sits down next to me, and I slide my textbook and notebook in his direction. He smiles, looking almost nostalgic. “I remember these. The good news is, as a doctor, you won’t be doing much of this in day-to-day life, if at all. But it is important for some courses you will take in medical school, so it’s best to master the concepts now. See, on number nineteen, you start the problem correctly, but get lost once you have to balance the equation to continue. Instead of waiting until the middle to balance, I would do that first, that way, you have a solid base before moving on to solve the rest of the problem.”

I nod, peering over at the paper intently. I hadn’t tried that strategy before.

Carlisle takes out a pen, and begins scratching out an equation. Then, he grins, shaking his head, and crosses it out, starting again in much neater handwriting. “Forgive my penmanship. Though, if you decide to continue and become a practicing doctor, your handwriting will soon be indecipherable, too.”

From across the table, Rosalie snorts, and I can’t help but laugh along. It seems almost a rite of passage for a doctor to have horrendous handwriting.

In clearer script, Carlisle continues working out the problem, then slides the paper over for me to see. He explains what he did at each step, and I nod along, trying to commit as much of it to memory as possible. He works out another problem in the same way, then asks me to try on my own. I smile tentatively as I go, hesitant to accept that I actually know how to do the problem now.

But I do.

It takes concentration to work through the steps, but I can, which is a far cry from where I was last night. Carlisle waves off my thanks, saying I just needed to try a different approach, but I had it within me all along. I bring up another section I had issues with—structures of the elements—and Carlisle teaches me a better strategy for memorizing a few and then figuring out the rest. By the time Esme and Bella have put the food away, my homework is done—in a fourth of the time it would have taken me struggling through it on my own.

“Seriously, Dr. Cullen, thank you so much.”

He smiles pleasantly, handing me back my textbook. “Of course. If you need help again, just come on over. I know the girls love having the company, and my wife and I enjoyed the opportunity to meet you as well.”

Esme appears behind her husband, laying her hands affectionately on his shoulders. “Absolutely, Y/n. Please come over any time.”

I pack up my homework and thank them once again for lunch and for the help. Alice darts to my side, grinning. “Ready to finish the episode?”

I feel so much lighter now that my homework is done, and I don’t feel guilty at all for spending time with my new friends. In fact, I may even indulge in that ice cream when I get home.

“Absolutely.”

A/n Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, here’s the link to my masterlist :)

[dadsbongos]

Not Now

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Five Hargreeves/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: none? Summary: Five reunites with his favorite sister after decades apart. ~~~

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Five muttered, finally taking notice of his sister’s absence now that he wasn’t busy making a fluffer-nutter sandwich. Great, he comes back to fix the timeline, and one of the reasons he comes to fix it isn’t even there for their father’s funeral.

Vanya was the first to pitch in, “At work, I think…”

“Well,” he stressed out the first consonant, “where is that?”

“Griddy’s,” just as the time-traveler was going to thank his brother, Diego continued with a small smirk, “Do you need a ride?”

Forcing on a plastic smile, Five declined, “I think I’ll be fine, Kraken. Thanks.”

~~

(Y/n) heaved a sigh, ready to throw her exhausted body onto her bed after a rather boring shift at work. At least there was Agnes, an endlessly sweet woman with an affinity for anyone that walked through her donut shop doors. She sluggishly shoved her own closed once inside, kicking off her shoes before going to untie her apron. All without noticing the intruder sitting on her favorite chair.

Five rolled his eyes, hoping his sister hadn’t magically become a ditz since he disappeared. If he was a murderer, she surely would’ve been crafted into mincemeat by now. He leaned over, pulling on the string light to a side table lamp, causing the woman to jump.

Her eyes widened at the familiar face, “Five? It- it can’t…”

Nodding, the boy gestured to his own body, “I may have made a tiny miscalculation in my jump back home.”

“How did you know where I lived?”

“You always said this was your dream house, no?”

“Well, yes but… how did you know I was already living in this house?”

Oh, after I saw our siblings’ corpses at the manor in the Apocalypse I was trapped in, I went looking for you and found you in the wreckage of where this house is. You looked terrified and in pain and I can only hope you were at peace in the afterlife because there was no way I could rewind and fix it until some forty-five years later in which I never spent a second not thinking about you and the rest of our family. You can never understand how worried I was that I would never be able to see any of you again.

He shrugged, “Call it a lucky guess.”

Placing a hand over her heart, (Y/n) turned towards the staircase, peeking up at the second floor before sitting across from her brother, “You probably shouldn’t just show up like this, what if my family found you?”

Eyebrows shot into his hairline, “You have a kid? That wasn’t in Vanya’s book.”

“Two, actually,” she smiled brightly, as if just the mention of them elated her, “I asked her to keep them out of the book.”

“Oh,” they weren’t in the rubble when the Apocalypse hit, “what’re their names?”

“Ben and Harley,” (Y/n) reached over to give her brother a small pat, “I would’ve named Harley Five but I didn’t want him to get bullied.”

“Understandable,” Five chuckled lightly, looking around and finding no pictures of any sort of co-parent, “Is there a dad? Mom? Another parent?”

Nodding, she gestured to the ceiling of the first floor, “My ex, they’ll be having custody time in just a few days now.”

Great, he comes back to find out that not only does he have a niece but also two nephews that he can’t get to know before the Apocalypse. Anytime he’s hoping to spend with the boys can be cut in half, if he’s lucky - because he still has to stop the very thing that will be the end of them.

“You can take my bed if you need a place to stay,” (Y/n) offered, “If you’re not staying at the Academy, anyway.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” he immediately refused, standing up from the chair, “Can I… see them? Ben and Harley?”

“Of course,” the woman nodded, standing as well and beginning to lead her brother upstairs. Coming up to the first room, she pressed a finger to her lips before quietly and carefully sliding the door open so they could both enter, “This is Ben.”

Glow-in-the-dark stickers illuminated the ceiling and some of the actual room. Dark blue walls cornered in a messy, cluttered room with the ground littered with plastic race cars and Legos. Even with his shoes on, Five could practically feel the fuzzy green rug under his feet. A rather large mahogany desk was pushed into the farthest wall, looking out a window. It was coated with clunky books and paper piles with a new pen every few inches. The boy himself had ink-black hair as if Ben Hargreeves was trying to peek through from beyond the grave.

Harley’s room, however, was much different. Short brown carpet paired with black walls, an abyss of dirtied clothes and torn pieces of paper strewn throughout the room. Makeup was scattered across every flat surface, markers and colored pencils being no better. A canvas to the right of the bed, post-it notes marking over every inch with ideas and plans to make the blank white material into a masterpiece he’d look back on in five years and gag. Posters for various bands and movies lined the walls in a crooked, chaotic fashion. Similarly to his brother, Harley’s hair was black as the night sky.

“Reminds me of Klaus,” (Y/n) muttered once they were out of the room, “Not how I pictured he’d turn out, but not unwelcome.”

Five stuffed his hands into his shorts’ pockets as he went back down the stairs, “They’re cute.”

“They’re about your age.”

“Fifty-eight?” he shook his head before looking down and remembering, “Thirteen, right. Wait,” turning, he looked at his sister, “thirteen?”

 She scratched at the back of her neck, “Allison and Diego already gave me hell. Pulled the ‘what would Five think’ card a few times.”

“I’m sure,” Five sighed quietly before taking the moment to make sure she was secure, “You know I’m not judging you, right? You were young, are young, but you’re a great mother.”

“You haven’t even been here while they’re awake.”

“Don’t need to be,” he shrugged, “I should get back to the Academy, but I’ll come around tomorrow. I want to meet my nephews that I didn’t know I had until now.”

“Oh, wait,” rushing back to her apron, (Y/n) pulled out a small bag before handing it over to her brother, “they’re probably not the best, but I can’t let you walk out of here without some food. Agnes lets me bring home a couple after my shifts.”

Five peeked into the bag, a few donuts that she took from Griddy’s, he rolled the top up before awkwardly nodding in gratitude, “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The door was useless as he teleported out of the house and onto the street. He wouldn’t tell (Y/n) then, not when she already had two kids to worry over. Only when it was necessary, would he say something. Five hoped that day wouldn’t come.

Not that he planned on jumping between Icarus theatre and her home, but he knew he wouldn’t do it differently if it meant his sister wouldn’t die.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 2: Roceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 2: There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate

Content warning: vague neglectful/bad home life mentions, liquor store mention (no drinking), implied past parental death.

Word count: 2.6k

When they first met, they didn’t like each other. Would they go so far as to say they hated each other? Probably not. But it was no secret that Roman and Janus didn’t get along, even if they traveled in a mutual friend group. If the two interacted at all, it was in snide remarks and gripes that had everyone else in the group groaning in annoyance. They just wanted five minutes of peace, that’s all. Just five minutes.

Roman was too preppy, Janus said. He was loud and abrasive and presumptuous and arrogant, an annoying theatre boy with too much energy. Other’s feelings came second to his dramatic and overplayed grievances. 

Janus was too self centered, Roman retorted. He was untrustworthy and creepy and a compulsive liar, a loner with a mysterious backstory. Everything about him was kept hidden under a mask of indifference.

These things were true to some extent, but the group still loved them both too much to reject either one. So they both stayed, bothered by the other’s presence and unwilling to admit that maybe they disliked the other because they were so similar. They were both extravagant and theatrical and burdened with concealed insecurities, points that all of the rest of the group brought up regularly and they both vehemently denied. 

It all changed one morning during school, on a regular Wednesday with average weather after an uneventful English class, when Roman got overly excited at the cast list for the newest show being put up and dropped his art bag. Without a second of hesitation, Janus crouched to help him collect the supplies that had flown across the hallway. That was when Roman’s sleeve slid up, as he was reaching for a paint pen that had rolled up against a locker, and Janus nearly choked.

00:00

He blurted out his accusation before he could stop himself.

“You said you haven’t met your soulmate! And you call me secretive?”

Roman snarled almost animalistically, covering his completed timer back up and grabbing the now full bag off the ground.

“If you must know, my timer’s always been like that. I don’t know when it ran out; too young to remember. I don’t even know if it was ever counting down in the first place. Defective.” He flicked the numbers on his wrist.

“Does anyone else know?”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the uncharacteristic sympathy in Janus’ voice. “Just Remus.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Why all the questions, Fibber on the Roof? Since when do you care about anything I do?”

Janus was quiet, breathing out a frustrated breath before folding down the bottom of his gloves, the same gloves that Roman taunted daily for making him look like every single Disney villain, the same gloves that made Roman turn to the rest of the group and insist that the guy was hiding something. Turns out he was right.

“My timer’s out too. I was too young to remember as well.”

Roman wasn’t able to respond, and Janus was surprisingly relieved. The silent solidarity in the other’s eyes was enough of an olive branch, just another thing they had in common. It was a pain the others didn’t understand, a frustration that couldn’t be fixed. So if from that point on, the bickering lessened and they finally allowed their shared interests to overlap, they surely wouldn’t be the ones to bring it up.  

That’s how they found themselves, almost half a year later, sitting on the swings of a musty playground near Janus’ house, watching the sunset in an unspoken agreement to put off going back until absolutely necessary. It was just another thing they had in common; shitty home life. They didn’t talk about it much, because they knew how much it sucked to discuss, so they let the facts stand at the forefront and the nitty gritty emotions and smaller mental repercussions stay healthily buried. What did it matter? Their parents were awful, ‘nuff said. 

“I just think it’s ridiculous, the amount of time he spent writing it.”

“He wrote and composed an entire play single handedly, J! Not a single word of it is dialogue, and it all rhymes! You try doing that in seven years.”

“I’m just saying, doesn’t it come to the point where you have to admit it’s too much work? Did he even know for a fact it would be successful?”

“He made it work, didn’t he? That’s what faith is for.”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s what makes Lin Manuel Miranda a god, and you, a worm.” 

Janus gasped and raised a mock hand to his chest, drawing a loud laugh from Roman. While the shorter of the two still wore his gloves daily, the other had slowly gained the confidence to wear short sleeves and display his empty timer, though god help the fool who asked him anything about it. The conversation with the group had gone well, though Jan hadn’t admitted that his situation was the same. They hadn’t known him as long, and they both agreed that it was a sensitive topic. Roman didn’t push him. 

“The sun’s setting.”

“I had no idea,” Janus smirked, although the implications of the fast approaching darkness made a pit settle in his stomach.

“We don’t have to leave yet. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I don’t really get in trouble that often,” The shorter murmured, kicking his feet in the dust under him, “She’s more just... forgetful. Ignorant. I’m not even sure she fully knows I exist all the time.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at the first bit of information he’d learned about Janus’ home life, besides knowing it was just ‘bad’. He was debating between quietly prodding him to continue or to just let it sit when Janus made the choice for him.

“The other day she asked me to go to the liquor store for her and literally didn’t believe me when I said I’m only eighteen. Then again, she’s forgotten my birthday for the last, what, ten years? So I guess she just lost track, got ahead of herself. I don’t know.”

“When’s your birthday?” It was the only response Roman could think of. 

“August seventh,” He whispered, almost like it was a dark secret he was scared to admit.

“Wait, actually?”

Janus turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah?”

“You’re joking. This is a joke, right?”

“I can probably find my birth certificate if you need proof. Why are you losing your shit?”

“That’s my birthday too!” 

Janus matched Roman’s face splitting grin with one of his own, his worries slipping away. They’d all been irrational anyways, so good riddance. He quickly settled his face into a more neutral one, the unusual expression hurting his cheeks. A calm air settled between them as their eyes locked, almost in a trance, before Janus snapped out of it and turned his attention to the pink hues of the dimming sky.

“What are the chances?”

There was a lot Roman didn’t know about the newest member of the friend group, he realized after dropping Janus off at home and starting the walk back to his. Usually he’d pop in his earbuds, taking the longest back roads and detours to put off arriving even more, but today his head was lost in his thoughts. What else didn’t he know about the blond boy he was so infatuated with?

Two weeks later, Janus edged the front door of his house open, calling out a tentative “Mom?” before pushing it open all the way and pulling Roman in. There was no answer through the empty halls so he yanked the taller boy upstairs, praying that his mom wasn’t home instead of just ignoring his call. It wasn’t until he shut his bedroom door and leaned heavily against it did he remember to breathe, meeting Roman’s eyes shakily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Parent’s are…”

“Yeah. It’s better if she doesn’t know you’re here.”

Roman nodded, finally looking around the room. One wall was completely adorned with old records, some cracked in places or missing pieces entirely. He found himself drawn to it, running a finger down the closest one to him as Janus collapsed on his bed, ruffling the yellow blanket beneath him. He took a moment to pull off his gloves, revealing his soulmark, a secret that only Roman had the honor of seeing. An old jukebox stood proudly in the corner, covered in a fine layer of dust.

“You definitely have an aesthetic,” Roman hummed, taking notes on the implications of the dust and not approaching the old machine. If Janus didn’t touch it, neither should he. Instead he sat down at the other’s desk, spinning himself lazily in the chair.

“It was all my dad’s old stuff. He loved music and antiques a lot. The record player was his, too.” 

He followed Janus’ gaze and nodded, overly tempted to take one of the records from the wall and trying to play it, but knowing that would only end badly. The record player was covered in the same thin sheet of dust. 

“Holy Hera, is that a baby picture of you?” His mind, apparently unable to stay on one topic for more than ten seconds, had decided to focus on the framed picture on the bedside table. He crossed the room and sat next to Janus on the bed, leaning closer to the photo but not daring to touch it. He inspected the woman, who could only be Janus’ mother, holding the tiny bundle and smiling weakly at the camera, her eyes tired and hair tied in a messy bun.

“Yeah,” Janus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “That’s the only picture I have with her. She hates cameras, always said she was self conscious and shit. It sucks that the only one I have, I don’t even remember taking.”

Roman knew he should respond to the surprisingly vulnerable statement, but his eyes had zeroed onto the still slightly slimy, wrinkly baby in the photo. Its little fists were tucked against his face, eyes closed peacefully, a moment of bliss that time forgot. That’s not what caught his attention, though. He squinted, edging just that much closer to the photo.

“You were born at Jacob Banks Memorial Hospital? I thought you lived in Chicago before you moved out here.” The tiny golden embroidery in the edge of the blanket was just focused enough to make out, as if he didn’t have an identical blanket at home, stashed under his bed in a box of other memories that were too special to throw away. He’d run his finger over the stitching a hundred times, reread the words and committed the blanket to memory, just for that high of simple childhood. And now, here was Janus as a baby, swaddled in the same blanket.

From the same hospital.

From the same day.

“Yeah. My parents were visiting relatives in town when my mom went into early labor. We didn’t end up actually moving here until a couple years ago.” Janus didn’t seem to notice the gears turning in Roman’s head as he reached forward, plucking the picture off the table and bringing it closer to his face. He tapped the glass, just above baby Janus’ arms.

“Right there, my timer. It’s just a few minutes left. I met my soulmate as a baby and no one cared enough to check who it was.”

“Janus.”

“I called the hospital as soon as I was old enough to comprehend, but they said they couldn’t help me. Didn’t have a record of anything to do with soulmates. Some help, huh.”

“Janus!”

“What? I’m trying to be melodramatic, Roman.”

“That’s the same hospital I was born in.”

“Okay? It’s the only one in town, I’m not overly surprised-” The lightbulb went off, and his head jerked up. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

They both were quiet for a moment, like the whole house was holding it’s breath, before Janus finally spoke, his voice a choked whisper. “Imagine with me, if you will,” he murmured, taking the picture and inspecting it closely. Not so much for sake of searching for details he wouldn’t have missed the hundreds of hours he spent inspecting the photo, more so just to avoid looking at the person beside him. “Two babies, born in the same place on the same day, put into the same small hospital nursery. They see each other, and click, their timers are out. Except both their parents don’t give a flying rat’s ass-”

“And so they never realize they met, and live their entire lives shrouded in mystery,” Roman finished quietly, suddenly terrified of the new ice they were walking on. 

“Hypothetically, of course.”

His head snapped up and the spell was broken, meeting Janus’ pale eyes and jumping to his feet, flapping his hands to dispel his nervous energy. “Okay. Okay! That could… that could make sense! All signs point that way, right?” He began to pace the length of Janus’ room, head tilted towards the ceiling, “And I mean, god, I’ve liked you for how long now? So I’m definitely not upset!”

“You’ve what?”

“Alright, so we can call the hospital, or go there, or something! I’m sure they can tell us how many babies were born that day, that doesn’t seem like confidential information, right? And if it was just us three, you, me, and Remus, then that’ll settle it!”

“Wait, no, Roman, stop!”

Janus launched himself at Roman before he could click the call button on the Google search of the hospital, already dedicated to his plan. He ripped the phone from his grasp and tossed it onto the bed after pressing the power button, grabbing Roman’s hands tightly.

“Jan, what the hell? That’s the only way we’re going to know for sure if we’re-”

“But what if we’re not?!”

The two settled into silence after the outburst, searching each other’s faces intently. They both shared scared expressions, eyes wide with excitement and nervousness, the possibility of years worth of questions finally being answered. The promise that their two soulmarks weren’t dysfunctional, weren’t broken, and fate that had led them together one way or another. 

But what if they weren’t?

“What if it’s a coincidence? What if you find out that your mom checked out before mine even got there, or our paths never could have crossed, or there were twenty babies born that day and there’s no sure way to know that we are each other’s soulmates? What if you find out that your soulmark said two years and mine ran out with someone else completely?”

“You’re starting to sound like Virgil,” Roman said quietly, almost fondly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“Roman, if you’re my soulmate, I’d be elated,” Janus’ hushed tone matched his, “But I don’t know what I’ll do if I build my hope and then find out it’s not true.” They were quiet again, and Janus was suddenly hyper aware that he was still holding Roman’s hands, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. He fought the urge to look away, look anywhere other than Roman’s bright eyes, because this was the closest they’d ever been and he was scared one flinch might break the charm they were in. 

“We don’t have to check,” the taller whispered, “If you are, I’m content just… believing it.”

“You always were a cheesy romantic.” The phrase was meant to be cutting, but the uncontainable grin across his face greatly lessened its impact.

“I’m a Disney lover, what can I say?”

Janus snorted, dropping his head on to Roman’s shoulder, his heart nearly stopping altogether when the taller boy wrapped his arms around him and pulled them a step closer together. “So we’re agreeing on this? That we’re soulmates?” His voice was muffled against Roman’s shirt.

“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Fuck the system, right?”

“Overthrow the government. Commit arson in the name of anarchy. Society is a prison.”

“Dramatic, and that’s coming from me,” Roman drawled, rocking them back and forth slowly, dancing to unheard music, “Hey, Janus?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

[cinephilediary]

A Memory

by: Kila Gallo

Sitting on a soft minimalist chair with a backrest, sipping on an iced white mocha-caramel coffee with some tiramisu on the side of the table, tied my long soft ash-brown-balayage hair in a clean bun with some baby hair strands on the side. Instead of the country side music, I prefer to listen and notice the loud breeze outside, while people come and go as they receive their cup of coffee. I am just here, silently typing on my keyboard, specs on, looking at my laptop’s screen; doing some work related stuff. Its been five years now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if… if I could see you or even just have the opportunity to glance at you, here, again.

“I’m going to school now Mom, bye!” I kissed on her cheek then walked through my way out of the house, still biting a piece of bread. It is 7:00 in the morning and I have to hurry for my first class. Dad is now waiting for me inside the black sedan car together with my little brother to drive us to school. Oh! I haven’t introduced myself yet, my name is Shi Gutierrez, a typical grade nine student.

“Shi! Faster! Mrs. Data is almost here!” Hazel shouted at me when she’s on the second floor and I am still at the school grounds. By that time, I started running upstairs in order for me not to get late and receive a punishment. Our school is definitely strict in terms of time thus I really have to run. I catch my breath as I sit down on my chair, I gasp and sigh heavily knowing that there's still no teacher yet, and fortunately, after minutes, Mrs. Data, our English teacher, entered the room and announced something that would be the start of something. “Good morning class! Since this week is the start of the English Month Celebration, I am tasking you to execute a stage play of the novel, Romeo and Juliet” she smiled angelically. Everyone were shocked that only our Class president answered, “When is it ma’am?”

“In the coming month, I still have no idea for the final and exact date but be ready! Any questions?” the room filled with silence. 

“Okay class, I want you to prepare for it because this is going to be a competition! Anyway, we will not have our classes starting today. I want you to focus on the preparation for your stage play! I am expecting so much from you since you are the first section, okay? See you!”

After leaving, the room was filled with noise of excitements. Then, my group of friends started teasing me to be part of the stage play because they knew I had some experiences. Time flies so fast, I, and my girl group of friends are now about to go to the school canteen to buy our lunch. We are seven girls in total and our classmates often call us as “girl group” because we would always gather to stick together and talks too loud. In the group, I am the one whose not easy to read, sometimes I would go silent and there are days wherein I would start the noise. People would always described me as a “social butterfly” and I kind of agree to the thought of it because I kind of know everyone here in our school, down from the school helpers, school guards to the higher positions. When we went back to our room, holding our drinks, everyone is occupied with their own businesses. Then without any hesitations, our class president stood up in front of the class, calling everyone’s attention. He discussed the agenda of finding who are the people who will act to be the characters of the play. While I am listening, the girls still pushes me to join, it was all fun until he, Mr. Class President looked directly at my way.

“Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” Yes, they appointed me to act as Juliet in the coming English month stage play competition. I did not even had the opportunity to decline because no one wants to do it either. We are now at the school grounds, amid the scorching sun, rehearsing our lines in our coming play. I already have prepared my costumes, props and other needed stuff. Everyone is participating since this is a whole-section project, thus, those who are not assigned as an actor or actresses are tasked for the making of props, backdrops, costumes, music and other tasks. By the way, the man who will act as the Romeo in our section, is our class president.

Everyone is currently occupied with their own tasks that keeps them bustle. I am at the backstage, fully prepared, wearing my first attire for the first act, a long beautiful dress, my hair is curled tied in a high bun. This is the day we have long prepared for.

“My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late!”

 After our section’s performance, our director told us to stay and watch the presentation of other sections. I was definitely excited to watch, to see the other perspectives of the play but when the third section finished, I asked my girl group to accompany me to the restroom to change because I don’t feel comfortable with my costume anymore. But, when we are approaching the door to go inside the school hallways, where the nearest restroom is located, my friends approached this boy, lone with his bag and used-props. “He’s the Romeo of the last stage play” I mumbled on myself. I know no one even heard me because when I looked at him again, he is now surrounded by the girls. They are asking him something, and when I went nearer, he looks more serious, still in his Romeo-outfit, fixing his necktie, smoothly removing his vest and folding some props made of paper to fit on his small paper bag. Then my friend, Rose started teasing him and I was in awe because I don’t know him, yet these girls act like they knew him. “Can I have that sword?”, “The flower is nice, give it to me!” they are forcing him to give them his things and I was just there watching him really give the things the girls asked to. Then, Rose looked at me, and that’s the signal that it is now my turn to ask him, “I want your necklace!” without any hesitations, I proudly told him. I don’t even know what to get and ask from him because I’m not interested with his props and the only thing I saw that is something useful, is the necklace suspended on his neck; a silver one with a small rectangular pendant looking good with his outfit. Then, he paused for a while, looking at me intently. I thought he’s going to give it to me, just like how easy it is for him to give his other belongings to the girls. But, he continued fixing his things and didn’t bother to mind me. After the deafening silence, finally, the girls forbid their goodbyes to that Romeo-boy, I don’t know what to feel, I am not ashamed of what have happened, I admit that it is weird at some point because we don’t know each other. All I really want to do is to change my clothes! “Its okay Shi, don’t be sad” Rose said when we went inside the restroom. What? “Yes Shi, maybe he was tired since he played the character of Romeo. Actually, he was really good! He’s better with our section’s Romeo!” Ann declared, then they all laughed.

Since every section made an amazing presentation during the English month stage play competition, Mrs. Data promised us to be rewarded with good and fair grades. Its been three weeks since that event happened, and now while everyone thought that it will be rest days next week, our class president together with the vice president, entered the room with some news to disseminate. “Okay listen! Next Friday there will be a Seminar Workshop in Filipino in line with the celebration of Filipino Month. Everyone must attend because this is going to be our attendance.”

“A celebration for the Filipino Month” Rose red the tarpaulin outside our school gate. It is 8:00 in the morning and we are currently waiting in line to enter the audio visual room where the event will take place. When we reached the door, our class president gave each one of us a name tag with a lanyard. He said that we are supposed to wear it the whole day. Since we are the first section, we had the opportunity to sit in front. The event started and the flow of the program went light, there are guest speakers who used to be theatre actors and now teaches Filipino subject and acting. Since it is a workshop, other guest speakers call some representative from each sections to participate. Then, lunch time came. We are about to go to the school canteen when he, our class president called me. He gave me a bottle of watermelon shake and a biscuit. “Why?” I asked him. He just stood there, smiling, wearing his eye glasses, unable to talk.

And finally, the event ended, it lasted for many hours! Its time for the photo opportunity with the guest speakers. We are the first one to take photos with them and can go home after. The section two is now ready for the photo opportunity thus I went back on my seat and started fixing my stuff, when I am ready to go, my friends ask me to wait for them. So, I sat on the arm desk of the chair, feet still on the ground, to prevent losing control and balance. I was watching the other students taking pictures with the guests until a pair of arms wrapped around my neck blocking my view, I stiffened from my position and unable to move. He move backwards after putting a necklace on me, then that's when I knew, the Romeo boy! I wasn’t able to speak, looking intently at him and he smiled. “Sorry its late”, What? What’s late? Why are you just talking to yourself be mad at him! He invaded your personal space! “And sorry for almost touching you, but I didn’t” he said in his low voice. What now? Do you hear me? “Honestly, I cant give you this” he holds his silver necklace suspended on his neck just like when I first saw him “my father gave it to me, so I bought a new one for you. Hope you like it.” Oh. Whats happening? Why I couldn’t utter any words right now. Then he smiled and turn his back on me. Leaving me in awe, unable to move nor speak. What was that? My heart beats so fast. Its a foreign feeling, something I only feel towards him.

“Hot Americano for Rald!” the counter called for the customer. Then I was stiffened from my seat. I looked down, forcefully closing my eyes, “Don’t look!” I mumbled on myself. But the heart made the final judgment, I looked at the counter, meters away from me. No one is taking the coffee. I glanced on the other direction, there, I saw him, wearing a white fitted polo that compliments his masculinity, paired with a black trousers and a pair of black leather shoes. A luster from his necklace caught my attention, it is the same necklace before. A smooth swift of the chair then he stand proudly and walked towards his way to the counter, eyes on his silver watch, looks like he need to hurry. The romantic background music from the cafe makes me lose my track, my heart keeps beating so fast, with one hand, he gently holds his cup of coffee, with no emotion on his eyes, then, he suddenly turned his gaze directly at me. I stiffened from my position, can not able to look away. Those brown eyes I used to gladly stare at, are the same pair of eyes I’ve long forgotten. He looked away. Turned his back at me and went out of the cafe. I can now barely see him. I thought he’s not going to be here today, just like the past years. Now that he glanced at me, I can tell, that he don’t recognized me. Do people really can forget someone they’ve spent years with? Do they really forget everything through the years? Maybe people really forget things and people they chose to forget. But, I hope its a different matter in my case. According to his doctor, there are high chances of obsolete lose remembrance on his case, after the heart operation. Does the heart really forgets?

Maybe,

I should come here again, 

more often.

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (IV)

Part 4: How You Became Lambkin

 Here we go for a new chapter! This is cute, but also, an important chapter for many reasons! The plot is now starting to unfold!!

No warnings of any kind to apply here, really, it's just rather innocent and cute. I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 3911

I

Holmes Chapel, 2007

 Shakespeare was a pain.

Maybe it was still relevant if you went to the theatre and saw professionals actually perform the play, but from the point of view of two 13 years old who had to read the plays for school… it was a pain.

Besides the language being old, there was also the fact that tons of the words on the page had just been made up. Or at least, it sounded that way. Because Harry had most certainly never heard any of those being used before and he had better things to do with his time than try and guess the meaning of these words. Playing football was one of them. And there was no way his mother would let him out of the house before he would have finished his homework.

There was only one way he could get to the pitch on time to play tonight with his friends. He had to ask for the help of the brightest mind he knew.

He got up from his bed where he was lying down with his copy of Henry V covering his face. He let the book fall on his bed while he reached for the piece of red glass that rested on the side of his window. He aimed at the sun, until the reflection of the light on the glass would dance over your own window. The perks of having his best friend living in the house right next to his: it was easy to reach you.

And indeed, it took you less than a minute to appear before you would appear on the other side of your own window. He couldn't help but grin at the sight.

Harry grabbed a piece of cardboard from behind his desk, that he had already prepared. One of the messages that you often used and both had kept, ready, just in case you would need them.

Help with homework?

He saw you laughing and shaking your head, but you grabbed your own cardboard, large enough to hide you completely behind it.

My place?

He merely nodded with a big goofy grin on his face, before grabbing his bag, his book and heading to the living room.

"Mum!" he called, thumping through the hall.

"Yes, I am not deaf," Anne laughed at her son.

"Can I go over to Y/N's to do my homework with her?"

"To do your homework or play videogames?"

"I have a match tonight."

"Ha… so it's really for homework then! Sure, you can go. Bring some snacks if you want, I bought some cookies, the ones she likes."

"Thanks mum! I'll go directly to the field when I'm done…"

"No, you won't. You're going to come back here to drop off your stuff and to get changed and then you'll go to the field."

He heaved a sigh, but complied without arguing.

"Okay. Bye!"

"Love you!"

But Harry was already slamming the front door shut and sprinting towards your house. Your mother was waiting for him with her door open and an amused smile on her face.

"Hello, Harry! How are you today?"

"Great! Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N!"

"Y/N's in her bedroom. Do you want to bring up some snacks?"

"I've brought some cookies my mum bought today."

"How nice! Well, go ahead then!"

"Thanks!"

He took off his shoes, placing them in the space that was saved for him in the hall, before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

He closed the door behind him.

"Hey! Thanks, I'm struggling with this bloody play!"

You merely chuckled, resting your back against your wall as you sat on your bed.

"It's alright, I haven't started that one yet."

"Have you done maths already?"

"Yep! Just finished."

"Me too. But that English stuff… ugh…"

He climbed on your bed by your side, dragging behind him his notebook, pencils and his Shakespearean play.

Harry gave you some time to catch up with him on the assignment, although he hadn't done much yet. You then spent some time trying to analyse the text and answer the questions on your assignment about the scene.

Harry was annoyed to say the least.

"What are these words, even…" he groaned.

"Come on… some are cute… 'lambkin', that's cute!"

"Lambkin?! You think calling your girlfriend lambkin is cute?"

"I do. It's sweet!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Alright, then, I'll call you that from now on. We'll see for how long you find it cute."

You exploded in laughter, the sound enough to erase his grumpy frown.

"That's not fair! I would be the only one with a ridiculous nickname like that!" you protested.

"You are not calling me lambkin. Ever."

"Alright," you shook your head at his silly remark. "After we're done with this, we'll look for a nickname for you."

"I'm going to the field after, I'm playing with the guys."

"That just means I'll choose whatever I want to laugh at you!"

"Wow… scary… lambkin."

You narrowed your eyes at each other, and you considered his banter as a challenge.

"You're gonna regret that, Styles."

"Oh, am I, lambkin?"

But you could only keep up the serious act for a few more seconds, before you both let go and were lost in a fit of laughter.

You did manage to finish your homework on time for Harry to go play football with the guys. You spent the rest of your allowed time before a screen looking for old and ridiculous nicknames to use against Harry on your computer.

You eventually found the perfect one.

His phone beeped after he was back home, about to go to bed. He had changed in his pyjamas and was about to turn off the lights for the night when the sound rang through the room.

"Harry! Go to bed, you have school tomorrow," Anne ordered, as she was passing by in the corridor right at that moment.

"I am going to bed! It's Y/N!"

"If you're not in bed in five minutes…"

"I am going!"

He checked your text all the same.

Y/N: I've found your nickname. You are chuckaboo.

He snorted, answering once he was buried under his blankets.

Harry: What does that even mean?

He put his phone on silence to avoid his mother hearing your response.

Y/N: It's a term of endearment to call a friend. Fits just right. Plus, I think it suits you, chuckaboo.

Harry: You'd better not call me like that at school.

Y/N: Oh, I will :)

He laughed, despite feigning anger in his next response. You merely replied with another smiley face, and wished him good night.

He went to sleep with an amused smile on his face.

It was just a joke, it would last for a few days before you would both grow tired of it. Stupid nicknames that would make you laugh for a while. Or so he thought, at least.

Lambkin and Chuckaboo.

What a ridiculous pair…

II

Loch Lomond, 2020

Harry kept on holding your hand as you settled around the large table that had been set for your family. The atmosphere was more relaxed as you waited for Amy and her family to join all of you over dinner. Your mom and you sat between your father and Harry, a protection of some sort against the nasty glances that your dad kept on throwing at your fake boyfriend. Dinner was merry, and Amy's family provided a nice distraction for your own family members to focus on. Harry spent most of the evening lost in a deep conversation with Amy's grandfather about 'the music back then', and he seemed to blend in just fine, not that you had ever had any doubt that he would.

One chair though had been left empty. In the large hall decorated with flickering lights, the view upon the loch growing darker and darker as the hours passed, until there was nothing left to see but the stary sky, there was one empty spot. It was for one of Amy's cousins, who had to work late at the hospital in Glasgow, where he worked as a nurse, apparently. Patrick, was his name, and he was set to sit right opposite you. It's only when you were waiting for dessert that he appeared.

And you struggled quite a bit to hide your reaction.

Because Patrick was handsome. Patrick was very handsome. Patrick was also 1000% your type.

And Patrick was set right across from you around the long, rectangular table.

He gave a kiss to his family, was introduced properly by an Amy that was on her way to getting from tipsy to drunk, and he seemed a little embarrassed by her antiques as she praised him for his work in medicine and called all who were single around the table to 'give him a ring'. And you found it cute.

You decided it was your duty, as you were the person sitting across from him, to make some small talk. Anyway, your parents were entertaining a conversation of their own that you weren't particularly interested in, and Harry and Amy's grandfather were lost in a vivid argument about Carole King's best song on Tapestry.

"I'm Y/N!" you introduced yourself with a welcoming smile. "Cassie's cousin."

"Oh, so we're the cousins then! Nice to meet you!" he greeted you with a warm smile as well.

And he had a nice smile. Very nice smile, indeed…

"So… you're a nurse then!"

He ran a hand in his hair, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry about her rant, I think she's had too much to drink."

"It's her wedding, I reckon she has the right to have a little fun."

"I guess. And what do you do for a living?"

You were interrupted by the dessert arriving, and you waited for the waiters to have left to answer.

"I'm studying for a PhD in history."

"Oh, wow."

He seemed genuinely impressed, which was always nice to hear. You waited for the next question to strike what do you do with a PhD in history, but it didn't come. Instead he asked another question, seeming genuinely interested.

"What is your thesis about?"

"The influence and impact of the XIXth century international exchanges and relations on modern politics."

"Wow."

"It's a mouthful," you joked, nodding your head.

"No, no! It sounds very interesting! Where do you study."

"California. But before that I got my degree in Oxford."

"Dear God… I'm sitting in front of the next Nobel Prize."

You laughed, shying away.

"No, absolutely not. Besides, I don't even think there is one to congratulate historians."

"A shame. I would have bet on you."

You did notice the way he shot you a shy smile. And you did notice the way he didn't look away, and didn't look for another conversation to settle into. He was focused on you while you ate your dessert, and you did the same.

Your conversation went on when the coffees and teas were served. And you had to admit that you liked it that way. He was charming, with a cute Scottish accent, and eyes that glimmered in the yellowish light of the room.

It's only when your cup of coffee was empty that Harry took your hand in his again, planting your feet right back to Earth, and reminding you of what you were here for in the first place.

He gave you a smile, before guiding your hand up to his lips to place a kiss over your knuckles, surprising you with the tender gesture and making your heart rush a little more as he looked at you with the tenderest of gazes.

"Are you tired, babe? Or would you like to take a walk with me? I could use some fresh air."

Your heart stumbled a little at the pet name, and you didn't like it. You didn't like it one bit, so you forced the organ to stop its little dance.

"Sure."

You bid everyone a good night -and did notice the disappointed look Patrick gave you as you abruptly ended your conversation in order to leave with Harry - and some other people retreated to their rooms at the same time as you, while you followed Harry outside.

It was cold outside, a heavy wind sweeping skeleton leaves to gather at your feet. You could hear the shushed rumble of conversations on the other side of the windows and the wind caught in the branches and lifting the water of the loch in clapping waves. Harry offered you his arm, and as you noticed that you could still be seen from the table inside, you took it with a grateful smile.

You walked along the shore in silence for a few minutes, your gaze distracted from the dark path by the shining lights above your head, but you weren't worried about falling, not when you were holding Harry's arm. He would catch you before you could fall.

He finally heaved a sigh.

"Well, that wasn't a complete disaster. It went better later on, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I reckon that once the shock had passed, it was alright," you nodded.

"Except for you father, of course. Judging by the way he was eyeing me all night, he probably will try to cut off my balls before the end of the week."

You laughed at that, the sound clear and joyful, luminous over the dark scenery that surrounded you. But the reflexions of the stars over the water was lovely all the same. They seemed brighter to Harry as your laughter echoed a little longer around both of you.

"He's not so fond of the idea. Don't know why."

Harry shrugged.

"Must think I'm not good enough for you."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

"Anyway… I think we're getting away with it."

"Getting the hang of it, babe?"

"Oh, shut up, chuckaboo."

"Ha, here you are again, back to your normal self. Will you start punching me next?"

"I've never punched you!"

"But you've threatened to do so dozens of times."

"I am very good at boxing."

His smile grew more tender, a little melancholic as well, but you attributed it to the quiet of the place that surrounded you. You were away from the lodge now, enough so for voices to have disappeared. It was only you, Harry, and the whisper of autumn leaves now.

"You're good at everything, Y/N."

There was a moment of silence, while you stared at him. But then, his expression grew a little mischievous, and he faked to be lost in thought.

"Except at cooking, and singing, and playing guitar, and most definitely climbing, and gymnastics, and…"

"Yeah, okay, I get it, you jerk!" you stopped him, punching his arm, although your gesture wasn't violent enough to hurt. Still, Harry dramatically held his arm as if you had thrown him your stronger uppercut.

"See, I knew it! Knew you would end up doing it for real, instead of only threatening me with your punches!"

"Well, you should shut up before I do it again."

"You're so cruel, lambkin," he tried to sound convincing, but the goofy smile upon his lips betrayed his thoughts.

You shook your head at him, wheezing.

You walked in silence for a little longer, before deciding to go back to the lodge. You were still holding Harry's arm, even if no one was around to see the two of you pretend. None of you acknowledge the fact, merely choosing to act as if you weren't. Maybe, a voice in your mind explained it by acting in case someone would bump into the two of you. You knew it wasn't the truth though, but you pretended that it was for the few minutes more that the gesture lasted while you walked on the edge of the water and under the tall trees.

"So… Patrick?" Harry asked after a long silence.

"He's nice!" you answered with a smile. "He's a nice chap!"

"Hmm," Harry nodded. "You did seem to have fun with him tonight. Even thought that maybe you didn't need my services anymore."

"Pfft! Don't be ridiculous! I've just talked with him for 5 minutes."

"Almost an hour, actually."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You counted?"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"I just noticed it was a long conversation."

"Hmm…"

"You know, we can still tell the truth to everyone, and you can take your shot with Patrick."

You didn't know how to describe the tone he used to say the man's name, but it wasn't oozing with fondness, that was for certain. You looked at him suspiciously, a smirk creeping its way to your lips.

"Are you… jealous?"

"Jealous? Me?"

"You're the jealous type, don't deny it."

"And don't flatter yourself. We're not really together, remember? Why would I be jealous."

"I don't know, but you sound like you are."

"I'm not jealous."

"Good."

"But do you like him?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know. I think he's attractive. I think he's nice. So…"

"You like him."

"He's alright so far. And he is my type."

Harry raised an eyebrow, before his features molded into a frown instead. His mind couldn't help but compare himself to Patrick, and point out everything that was different between them.

"Am I your type?" he asked after a long silence.

You laughed, taken aback.

"What kind of question is that?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. Just wondering. I'm playing your boyfriend for a week, but… would I be your type? Had I not met you when we were five and crashed your ice-cream into your face… had you met me tonight instead of Patrick… would you have thought that I was your type?"

You looked away, finally letting go of his arm, and the lack of contact between your two bodies made Harry regret his question.

"I don't know," you lied, before finding back your composure, and shooting him a smile. "But you're my boyfriend for this week. So for the next seven days, you are most definitely my type, honey."

He laughed, shaking his head. You had walked back to the lodge, and he opened the door for you, dramatically bowing before you to let you through first.

"After you, my love."

Harry went first to take a shower, and then it was your turn. Some warm water was just what your tired muscles needed to relax after your busy day. When you walked out of the bathroom, a little bit of fog following you through the door, Harry was lying on the bed, atop the blankets, scrolling on his phone.

He had changed into a comfortable jumper and a pair or pyjama pants that seemed warmed and soft. His curls were still damped, wetting his pillow, but he didn't seem to mind it at all.

He looked up when you stepped out of the bathroom though, and you didn't fail to notice the way his eyes settled on your legs before hurrying to your face while his cheeks blushed.

Your pyjama shorts weren't that short at all, stopping right above your knees. Still, it seemed enough to make Harry's cheekbones and ears turn crimson. You wore an old Treat People With Kindness jumper too, matching his grey hoodie.

"You're alright, Harry?" you asked, rather puzzled by his reaction.

"Sure, why?"

"You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You weren't convinced, but chose to drop the subject, your own fatigue weighing on you. So you shrugged instead, finishing to get ready for bed.

You slipped under the covers and heaved a sigh as your head hit the pillow.

"Tired?" he asked, and you could only hum and nod in response.

He hesitated for a second, while you closed your eyes.

"There's an extra blanket. I can sleep on top of the covers, and you under them, if you want."

You opened your eyes again to look at him.

"Would that make you feel more comfortable?"

He considered your question, and shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"I don't really care. But… maybe for tonight, you can do that. Won't you be cold though?"

"It's quite warm in here. And the blanket looks cosy."

"Alright, but don't hesitate to get under the covers if you're too cold. I don't mind if you do."

"Okay," he nodded, before getting up to get the blanket.

He lied down by your side again, getting comfortable, before he would turn off the lamp on his nightstand, and you did the same, letting darkness take over every inch of the room, looking darker than it really was as your eyes got used to the shadows.

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You turned to your side, trying to get comfortable too, and your foot gently bumped into his through the layers of sheets and blankets as you moved.

"Sorry," you quipped, moving your foot away.

"'S okay," he replied, his voice lower than usual.

You let silence settle for a while, but it felt strange. Awkward. There was something unspoken hovering above the two of you, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel weird."

"Weird? You mean sick?" he asked with worry in his tone now.

"No, I mean… it's a little weird sleeping next to you. Why though? We've done that since we were six."

He shrugged, but couldn't deny that he was feeling the same. His heart was beating so fast, he was worried you would hear it in the silent night.

"Maybe it's because we're not children anymore," he whispered.

You hummed in response.

"And we haven't done it in a long time too," you added, and he heard you nodding, your cheek brushing against your pillow.

He took a deep breath before speaking again, his tone hesitant.

"Do you… would you feel better if I took the couch?"

You considered his offer, but shook your head.

"No, I… I don't feel uncomfortable. It's just… strange."

It was his turn to hum.

"Would you feel better on the couch?" you asked him.

"No, it's… it's a nice weird."

"Yeah, it is."

"I'm just… it makes me a little nervous."

"Nervous?"

He made a face, that you couldn't see, but you would have found it adorable if you had.

"I'm afraid I'll wake you up with my snoring. Or speak some nonsense in my sleep. Or you wake up tomorrow morning and see me drooling, with saliva all over my face."

You laughed at him, reaching in the dark to touch his arm. You patted the muscles tenderly.

"Don't worry, chuckaboo. I've seen worse! Seen you throwing up a fair amount of time. Also, I'll just punch you again to wake you up if you start snoring too much."

He laughed, and both of your laughter mingling through the room made most of the tension in the room disappear.

"You're right. Besides, maybe you'll be the one waking me up because of your snoring!" Harry went on.

"I don't snore!" you snorted.

"You do. I've heard you before."

"Well, then, you can wake me up if I do."

You moved your fingers away from his arm, but they lingered on the mattress near him all the same, in the little space between the two of you.

"Sleep well, lambkin," Harry whispered, closing his eyes, and when you answered, you had the same smile on your lips as the one that he wore.

"You too, chuckaboo."

************************************

Taglist : @emcchi​​ @fishstick-knows​​​ @eldahae​​​​ @just-damn-bored​​ @retrouvailessx​​​ @marvelstudies2020​​​ @boxofteenageideas​​@ponycake27​​​​​​​ @horsesreign​​​​​​​ @xinyourdreamsx​​​​​​ @jbluevelvet​​​​​@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​​​​​ @stuckupstucky​​​​​​@snek-shit​​​​​​ @suchatinyinfinity​​​​​​@i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​​​​​​​@jigsawlover10​​​​​​ @emyyjemyy​​​​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​​​​​​​​ @staringmoony​​​​​​​@madamrogers​​ @cronias13​​​ @stylesfics-xx​​​​ @mellamolayla​​​​ @mariaenchanted​

[aleksandermorozovaa]

Over cookies?

Charlie Barber x Reader

Summary: Charlie comes home after a long day of work and is greeted by his two favourite people. But a nice night is apparently the last thing the universe has in store for him. 

Warnings: Angst? over the top drama? 

A/N - My first time writing for Charlie, and I love this man more than anything. I’m posting this since I’ve been sitting on it for a while now and I’m hoping ya’ll can encourage me to continue? We shall see.

AO3 link: XX

Part 2: XX

Tags: @commanderbensolo​

The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house, bringing a smile to Charlie’s face as he closed the door behind him and hung his keys on the little hook on the wall. A hook that you’d insisted on putting there after he’d forgotten his key three times last month, causing you to leave work early to let him into the house. At the time he’d argued that it was a one-time mistake, a lapse of memory as he rushed out of the house to get to rehearsal or a meeting. But he’d not forgotten them since the hook had been installed, a fact he could tell you’d been dying to point out. 

Charlie shrugged off his coat and hung it between yours and Henry’s new favourite bright green coat that he’d insisted on getting because it reminded him of some cartoon character that he couldn’t name. Nicole would know, you probably would too, not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things, but he felt guilty that the name kept escaping him.

“Dad!” Henry called running towards him with a look of glee on his face. Henry paused to quickly hug him but before Charlie could move his hand to ruffle his hair as he usually did Henry pulled away and bounded towards the kitchen. “No time! Gotta move!” He called.

“You’re home early.” You said as you came down the stairs, folding your cardigan over body. It was getting colder out, not terribly so but enough that you couldn’t leave the house without a coat.

Call it his director’s brain, but he couldn’t help but think you looked angelic standing there, as if you were descending from the heavens to bless humanity. If he was in the theatre, if this was one of his plays, he’d make sure to have the lights dimed and have one singular spotlight on you, lighting you up so that everyone’s attention was forced to be on you, so they couldn’t look away. It was what someone as amazing as you deserved, not that you’d like that. You shied away from the spotlight. Something he failed to understand.

“Finished rehearsal early. Everyone’s in a foul mood, no point continuing so I called it.” Charlie explained as he toed off his shoes and pushed them against the wall. It wasn’t their proper place, and he’d rectify that later but right now he wanted you in his arms.

“Everyone seemed in a fine enough mood at lunch when we visited.” You said with a small frown as you made your way down the last few steps, pausing on the bottom one, leaving you almost eye level with him. A habit you had, stepping on anything you could to make the height difference between the two of you smaller. “I just think you missed me.” You said reaching out to him, your fingers hooking around his belt loops, tugging forward. Not forcefully, but enough for him to get the picture, enough for him to get excited.

He let out a hum as he moved towards her wrapping his arms around her pulling her tight, breathing her in. She smelt of coffee and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“There might be some truth to that.” Charlie said pressing a kiss onto the top of her hair. In reality, he had been the one in a foul mood, after the two of them left at lunch to go to the park he’d been disappointed he had to stay behind. She of course had to keep sending him photos of Henry having a great time causing him to be completely unfocused and instead constantly checking his phone for more. One photo of him climbing a tree which at first had his parental instincts going wild but then he saw how close he was to the ground and he calmed down. There had been one with Henry holding a rabbit at some pop-up petting zoo and finally a selfie of the two of them, Henry covered in cream from the hot chocolate in his hands. He’d saved that one as his lock screen.

In the end Wallace had suggested they call it a day, which Charlie didn’t try to argue against. Instead he’d nodded and packed his things up in record time to get home to his favourite people.

“Y/N!” Henry called running back towards them, he held something in his hands, an egg timer Charlie noticed. Y/N turned her head which had been buried in Charlie’s shirt. “Stop being gross and come help me! They’re going to burn!” Henry’s bouncing up and down trying to express the urgency of the situation.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the pair as he allowed Y/N to disentangle herself from him. Henry promptly took her hand in his as he dragged her towards the kitchen.  He followed of course; his curiosity peeked.

Charlie settled against the kitchen counter folding his arms. He watched the pair of them crowding around the oven. Y/n gestured to Henry to move back so she could open the oven. Charlie took the chance to grab him by the shoulders and pull him back against him. “What have you two been up to.” He asked his son, ruffling his hair as he had attempted to do just minutes before.

“We made cookies.” Henry said looking up at his father with a grin. “I wanted to add gummy bears but Y/N said that it might be a disaster and you’d be upset that we wasted your secret stash.”

It was true he always made sure to have a packet of Haribo’s in the house and in his desk at the theatre, it was a guilty pleasure for him. When he was writing or planning or working on something practically tricky. The chewy texture and sugar rush did wonders to help his creative juices flow. He wasn’t sure why he hid them, other than Nicole had always given him hell for having them. Claiming it was encouraging Henry to have unhealthy habits, and he suppose it had stuck.

“You know about-“

“We know about your stash, honestly honey just because you’re built like a fridge and the only one able to see the top of it but that doesn’t mean you should hide things there.” Y/n said as she placed the tray filled with possibly the worst cookies he’d ever seen. They looked slightly over cooked and had melted into wonky uneven shapes, but he knew he’d still eat as many as he could get away with stealing.

“They’re burnt!” Henry whines looking at the cookies disappointed.

“Only a little!” Y/n said quickly in response. “Besides we have the other half of the dough ready to go in, and we know not to put them in for as long.” She added taking her oven gloves off and draping them over her shoulder.

“Maybe if you and dad didn’t spend so much time being gross we’d have two batches of good cookies!” Henry pouted and stepped out of Charlies arms. Clearly in a huff. Charlie looked up catching Y/N’s eye, she seemed hurt by Henry’s outburst.

“Hey now kid, don’t be like that.” Charlie said pulling Henry back into his reach, he gripped his waist and lifted him so he was sitting on the counter. Charlie’s arms on either side to stop him wriggling out as he predicted he would try to do.

“It’s the truth!” Henry protests, but it sounded more like tooth than truth, he’d lost his front teeth a week ago and his new ones were still growing in.

“Henry, sweetie it’s okay, we can make some more.” You say taking a step closer.

“Mom wouldn’t have burnt them. I wish mom was here.” Henry snaps and Charlie’s breath hitches. Giving Henry a chance to break from Charlie’s body prison and run. He didn’t even try to catch his son as he bounded away and up the stairs to his room. “I hate you!” Henry shouts before slamming his bedroom door.

Instead he turns his attention to you. You’d never experienced one of Henry’s outbursts, or at least not one aimed at you. You’d been there for him whenever Henry had screamed at him, it had hurt at the time fresh after the divorce. It had taken Henry a good year to get over his “mommy phase” as Nicole called it. Meaning he seemed to hate every second he spent with Charlie, and had no problem being vocal about it.

You’d held as he wept one night in bed after a particularly bad day. He’d clutched your waist and pressed his head into your chest, your shirt was soaked with his tears but you didn’t care. You’d ran you’d fingers through his hair and told him Henry didn’t mean it, that he was still processing the separation.

He wanted to do that for you now. To be that solid rock. 

“Sweetheart.” He starts seeing the hurt on your face. He wanted to reach out to you. 

“No, it’s okay Charlie.” You force a smile and move to go past him and he stops you, instead taking you into his arms.

“you know he didn’t mean it, don’t you?” he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips hovering just above your skin.

“I do. You should go check on him. I’m going to go for a walk.” You pull away pausing to cup his cheek allowing him to press a soft kiss to your palm.

“Stay. Please.” He all but begs, it was getting late and he didn’t want you walking the streets when you were clearly upset.

“I just need a break, honey. I won’t be long. I promise.”

“Okay.” He knew better than to try and stop you when your mind was set on something.Instead he watched as you slipped on your shoes and coat before leaving. You didn’t let the door slam behind you like he normally did, everything you did seemed gentle like that. 

He waited until you’d made it to the bottom of the garden before turning away. Then he turned to the stairs and took them two at a time. 

“Henry.” he called as he stopped outside his door, he raised his hand to knock twice. 

“Go away.” Henry shouts back, Charlie knows by the wave in his voice that he’s crying. He’s torn between wanting to let Henry have his tantrum and wanting to deal with it now. He tried the door handle but Henry had clearly locked the door. Nicole’s voice plagued him then, berating him for letting Henry be able to lock his door. 

What if there was a fire? What if he hurt himself and was trapped. You’re so irresponsible. 

Fuck Nicole for being right, even if it was his made up version that did nothing but critisise his parenting. He took a step back, his back hitting against the wall with a thump. How had it all gone wrong so quickly? 

He’d been looking forward to coming home all day, to your smiling face and Henry’s excited chatter about dinosaurs or space or whatever else took his fancy that day. He’d spent all day recounting the ingredients in the fridge thinking about what him and Henry could make for dinner while you folded laundry or hoovered or just sat and relaxed. But here he was, you’d left and Henry was seemingly distraught. 

All this, over cookies.

[fandammit]

Look how long this love can hold its breath (1/4)

Part Ben Gross character study, part slowburn adolescent romance. 

*******

I’ve hoarded

your name in my mouth for months. My throat

is a beehive pitched in the river. Look!

Look how long this love can hold its breath.

-Sierra DeMulder, “Your Love Finds Its Way Back”

The first assignment of their Freshman year Honors English class is to write a letter to themselves. 

“I want us to capture this very moment -- who we are, what we love, what we hate, what we want,” Mrs. Allen announces with a grand flourish, and he thinks that maybe she would be better suited for drama kids in Theatre than for neurotic, type-A students of this Honors class. “I want us to trap it in amber -- preserve it so that in four years, I can give you back those very same letters and we can marvel at who we were!”

He sneaks a glance over at Devi and can immediately see they’re both thinking the same thing -- it's ridiculous and cheesy, but they’re both willing to go along with it without any fuss.

English teachers tend to have some kind of corny getting-to-know you activity, and despite this overly sentimental first assignment, he’s only heard good things about Mrs. Allen’s class.

So, that night he loads up his printer with his 32 pound bond paper (to show that he takes this assignment seriously) and goes to work trying to capture this moment of his life in amber.

Even saying it in his head makes him want to roll his eyes (he thinks Devi must be thinking the same thing, then immediately thinks about how he can make his letter better than hers).

He knows what Mrs. Allen said -- that this isn’t really an assignment inasmuch as it is a time capsule; that it isn’t a resume, but just a friendly letter so she can get to know them.

But Ben Gross hasn’t gotten this far with his GPA and academic transcript because he’s taken teachers at face value.

He doesn’t lie  -- he honestly doesn’t need to, really. His list of extracurriculars and hobbies take up nearly half a page on their own, and his write-up about his pathway to becoming a diplomat is incredibly detailed and specific.

It’s only when he gets to the final question that he hesitates.

What’s one aspect of your life that you think would make a fun movie and why? Describe it to me!

He re-reads the question, then re-reads his letter and frowns. He clearly comes across as competent and confident -- which is what he was going for -- but also a little dry. This question is obviously designed to see if he has some personality.

Which, you know, of course he does. He’s just not sure how to put that on paper so that Mrs. Allen will see that he’s a well-rounded, intelligent but not overwhelmingly dull honors student.

He thinks about writing about his Bar Mitzvah and Blake Griffin -- that would be pretty cool to see in a movie -- but a voice that sounds suspiciously like Devi’s pops into his mind and calls him lame. He thinks about the time he sat next to Drake in first class on the way to Toronto with his dad, and this time an image of Devi rolling her eyes pops into his head.

He leans back in his chair and wonders what Devi is writing about. She probably has half a dozen stories to choose from, each one more exciting and endearing than the last, and each one bursting with the kind of personality that teachers -- for the most part -- seem to find charming rather than obnoxious (which is what it is).

He’ll never admit it out loud, but even though he knows that he can be charming when he needs to be, there’s an easy charisma to Devi that he’s never been quite able to replicate.  

He frowns at that thought, then scowls at the rather wide tangent his thought process has taken.

The cursor blinks at him as an idea slowly takes shape in his mind. He writes about the long rivalry between him and Devi -- the back and forth exchanges in class that became back and forth exchanges of first prize and first place and ‘best of’ certificates. The sixth grade disaster of their competing Oregon Trail projects, which almost got them both suspended and lead to a long enough truce for them to divide up any extracurricular and project they might ever take part in.

By the time he’s done with his fictional movie, it’s overtaken his letter; the answer to that one question as long as all the rest of his answers combined.

He reads over it and edits a word here and there, rearranges a couple sentences. Not to toot his own horn, but there’s now a buttload of personality in this letter in addition to proof of his competence, confidence and intelligence.

He ignores the smug-sounding voice of Devi in the back of his mind telling him that he couldn’t have done it without her.

*******

Mrs. Allen takes all their letters with a smile on her face and gathers them close to her chest.

“I can’t wait to get to know you better! Reading these letters is the best way to start my year, and in four years, you guys are going to love reading them back to yourselves.”

She turns and puts the letters in a filing cabinet, which gives him the chance to roll his eyes without her seeing.

She turns back to the class and claps her hands together.

“Now this second one -- it’s not everyone’s favorite, but I personally love it because it lets me see everyone in a different light.”

He groans inwardly, basically sure that she’s going to announce some kind of partner or group project, which he absolutely loathes. It’s way too early for someone to dull his shine in this class (or, in the case of Devi, threaten to eclipse him).

Unfortunately, the second assignment is much, much worse than a group project.

“This assignment isn’t for you,” Mrs. Allen says as she starts to hand out the assignment sheet. “It’s for your parents!”

Anxiety gnaws at the pit of his stomach the minute she says it.

“For homework, I need your a parent or guardian or uncle or aunt or grandparent to write a letter about you to me. It doesn’t really matter who specifically it is, it just should be someone who has helped raise you and shape you to become the person you are today. I give suggestions on that sheet about what I’d like them to write about, but really, those are just suggestions.” She smiles brightly at the class. “Basically, I want to see a different perspective on you. This helps me get to know you better and whoever takes care of you at the same time.”

The anxiety has eaten through his stomach and is now going to town on his liver.

“And I know that your parents are busy people, so they have until the end of the week to complete it.”

He slinks as far down in his chair without seeming disrespectful, trying to figure out a way to keep his anxiety from ravaging his lungs.

“What’s wrong, Gross,” Devi asks to the right of him. “Afraid your dad won’t be able to write anything nice about you?”

He shoots up in his chair and glares at her.

“More like I’m trying to figure out how to make sure my dad doesn’t go over the page limit because I’m so awesome.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to talk to Fabiola, as he turns his attention back to the paper on his desk.

His parents are both out of town until Friday -- his mom’s at some kind of rejuvenation spa and his father is brokering a deal with some artist named Clairo -- so he knows he won’t be able to ask either of them. It makes sense -- they’re busy and this assignment is stupid, and he should really argue about it except that Devi doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest and has already put the assignment sheet in her binder.

Putting up a fight about it would admit to a weakness -- his only one, really -- and he’d rather drop out of the class or fail than admit that to her. Er. To anyone.

For just a moment, he considers asking Patti, who does meet all the criteria -- she is someone who’s helped raise him and shape him to be the person that he is. He dismisses the idea in the next moment, because even if she technically fits the parameters, he can only imagine the kind of pity he’d get from Mrs. Allen when she reads a letter written by his house manager. He needs Mrs. Allen to be impressed by him, not feel sorry for him.

He thinks about that letter over the next few days and finally comes up with a compromise -- he writes it himself, but from the perspective of his dad.

He then emails it to his dad, who signs it, scans it and sends it back as an attachment with an email that says Couldn’t have written better myself! You’re so smart! Love you!

He takes that as confirmation that all those things he said about himself as his dad were true, and tries to tell himself it feels just as good as if his dad had actually written them.

*******

The following Monday, he overhears Mrs. Allen tell Devi that her father’s letter was so beautiful and heartfelt that it made her cry.

He doesn’t hear what Devi says in return -- some just-right mixture of pride and genuine gratitude, he’s sure -- just turns away and pretends to rifle through his backpack.

There’s a pang in his heart that he tells himself isn’t jealousy, and an odd sense of relief when Mrs. Allen passes by his desk without saying anything at all.

*******

That assignment is the second thing he thinks about when he hears about Devi’s dad and the orchestra concert (the first thought is something that can’t be put into words -- a kind of bottomless sadness shot through with a concern he doesn’t know what to do with).

He wonders if Mrs. Allen will give that letter back to Devi. If doing so would be an unbearable kindness or an unspeakable cruelty. If Devi would even open it if she did.

Mostly he wonders if Devi is ok, and what would make her feel better.

After hours of thinking about it, he realizes he doesn’t know. It makes him feel sad -- or useless, maybe -- that even though he’s known her for almost his entire life, all he knows is how to piss her off.

He briefly thinks about deliberately tanking a test this week to make her feel better, then realizes that he:

A. Is so smart that he probably wouldn’t be able to tank a test, even if he tried.

and

B. Devi would know -- she always knows when he’s up to something -- and it would do nothing but piss her off even more.

So he studies his ass off and gets a higher grade than she does on their Biology test. Her nostrils flare when she sees the grade on his test, and for a moment he really does feel bad -- maybe he should’ve tried to tank the test after all.

But then her eyes flash with something that isn’t sadness for the first time in weeks, and he’s so absurdly happy to see it that he doesn’t even come up with an insult when she lobs one in his direction.

He tells himself it’s because having a nemesis who’s all in makes him a better student, but when she gives a full-on victory cry in class a week later because she’s beaten him on their English test by half a point, that same absurd kind of glee is back with it.

A small part of him thinks maybe he’s just happy that she’s happy, in whatever small way she can be right now. The larger part of him ignores that, and studies twice as hard for their upcoming Algebra test.

*******

He thinks about that letter again on the way home from the Model U.N. trip, as he watches her freeze the moment an ambulance comes shrieking down the street.  

His mind is a jumbled mess of emotion -- anger at the way the conference ended, confusion at the way things have seemingly ended between him and Devi -- but all that fades away in a wave of concern as he sees Devi force herself to take steady breaths.

He almost wants to ask if she’s ok, but in the next moment she catches him looking at her and snaps a question, and he’s so mixed up and off-balance that he falls back on what the two of them do best -- insults and sarcasm.

It’s comfortable, but it doesn’t settle him, and for the first time (maybe not for the first time) he wishes he could be good at something that isn’t a way to hurt her.

*******

He thinks about that again when he’s sitting across the dinner table from Devi, her insults still ringing in his ears.

Now would be the perfect time to hurt her the way she hurt him, to make her as miserable as he feels right this moment.

But then he remembers that letter, thinks about the girl whose dad loved her so much that talking about her made a stranger cry, about the look of misery on her face as the ambulance went by and how awful it must feel every time she hears a siren.

He remembers the feeling of wanting to be good at something that isn’t supposed to hurt her.

So he swallows his bitterness at the way the Model UN Conference ended and swerves away from hurting her, makes some charming jokes about how good she is at diplomacy instead.

She smiles at him from across the table, and later even laughs when he tells her about his awkward pizza encounter (he won’t say it makes him feel better than he has in the last 24 hours, but something loosens in his chest at the sound of it).

It doesn’t take away the loneliness of the day completely or soothe all his disappointment, but even though the day still stings, at least he knows that he can be alright -- maybe even good -- at something more than just hurting Devi.

*******

He knows he’s had more grandma juice than is advisable when he finds himself staring at his reflection and telling himself that he didn’t throw this party just so Devi would come to his house.  

It’s his birthday, he reasons, and people throw parties on their birthday. It’s what his parents wanted when they left him, and he’s nothing if not a dutiful son. Plus, he has the house for it, and the money for it, and the friends --.

Well, he’s still not drunk enough to say -- even to himself -- that he has the friends for it.

But having parties is what cool kids do on their birthdays, and even if he can admit that he isn’t one of them, he’s at least adjacent enough to cool kids to be able to emulate their behavior.

So, yeah. That’s why he threw this party -- to be cool. Not because Devi asked him about throwing one. Not because seeing Devi look at Paxton like he was a goddamn chiseled marble statue come to life in the style of Pygmalion set off a hot spark of something that felt like jealousy in the center of his chest. His throwing this party had nothing to do with Devi, at all, in any way, shape or form.

He tells himself that a half dozen times as he looks at his blurry reflection in the mirror, as he splashes his face with water in the hopes that it’ll miraculously clear his vision, as he walks down the stairs holding his fourth cup of grandma juice.

Then he sees her come through the door and it’s like his vision clears up completely (if momentarily, because apparently emotions do not supersede biology) and he feels a warmth in his veins that has nothing to do with the alcohol currently coursing through it because Devi is in his house and she actually looks genuinely happy to see him.

He takes her on a tour of the house, pointing out the memorabilia from all his dad clients, showing her the game room and the gym and the two indoor pools (one chlorinated, one a saltwater pool), and she’s complimenting it all without even the slightest bit of sarcasm and laughing at his jokes and mocking him without the usual hard edge to her and he honestly can’t remember the last time he was this happy and --

Oh, fuck.

He totally threw this entire party just to invite Devi over to his house.

[anxious-logic]

Love the Color of the Sky

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 26: You can’t see shades of your soulmate’s eye color until you meet and look into each other’s eyes for the first time.

Ship: Moxiety (Patton/Virgil)

Warnings: Food mention, Virgil swears once

Word count: 1,062

A/N: The title is not a reference to the tumblr post. I thought of the title, and then remembered the post, but I’m sticking with it.

Summary: Gray is a perfectly pretty color. But Patton’s a little tired of seeing it everywhere - who decided that blue was going to be part of so many colors, anyway?

Patton sighed as he looked around his room. It was colorful, yes, but there was also an overwhelming amount of gray – washed-out colors that weren’t complete, or colors that he just couldn’t see at all.

His soulmate had blue eyes. Unfortunately, when Patton had picked out decorations with his parents, many of the items he liked had only been available in shades of blue. He was fine with it – gray was a perfectly pretty color! – but he wished he could see more.

He picked up his phone (the case was apparently purple, but it just looked like a washed-out red) and unlocked it, opening his texts to the family chat. He saw a message from Roman, his younger brother.

I’m probably going to have a study buddy over today, is it ok if they stay for supper too?

Patton smiled slightly as he saw one of his Patton-ted terms on the screen. He’d coined “study buddy” when he was in elementary school, as a term for a person who would help with homework but was also someone to be considered a friend. The phrase had stuck in the house.

Sure, Dad replied. Any allergens or anything?

Nope, Roman replied quickly.

Sounds good.

Patton put his phone down, sighing as he stared at the ceiling. Roman was at theatre practice right now, and Patton’s parents were at work; he was the only one in the house right now, and he was bored.

He laid on the bed, drifting in and out of a light sleep. Suddenly, he was woken by the door of the house opening and two sets of voices chattering on top of each other.

“But, like, it’s not fair! Because it’s not like he can help it-”

“Sure, he can’t help the general situation, but he absolutely could help his reactions, because those were shit-”

The first voice was Roman, and the second must have been his study buddy. He heard Roman’s bedroom door close, and the voices cut out.

Patton swung his legs over the edge of his bed, stretching his arms above his head and sitting at his desk to start working on his homework. It wasn’t much – just an APUSH DBQ and a few algebra problems he hadn’t gotten to in class – but it was enough that he wasn’t really excited about doing it.

He’d just finished his DBQ when his phone vibrated with a text from his mom. Supper’s ready, just cooling down a bit. 5-10 minute warning.

He sat back in his chair, letting out a breath at the feeling of having a little bit of a break. He pulled out his phone, setting a timer and pulling up YouTube.

When his phone went off saying that it was time for supper, Patton pulled out his earbuds and set his phone down. He could hear Roman and the other person talking and laughing in the kitchen.

He walked out of his room, going down the stairs and into the kitchen. His Pop was in the kitchen putting a salad together, along with Roman and a person who must have been the study buddy. They were wearing a black hoodie, with patches colored the washed-out red that meant it was purple.

“Hey there! My name’s Patton, he/him pronouns! I’m Roman’s older brother, how about you?”

They turned around, not quite meeting his eyes. “Virgil, they/them. I’m in Roman’s Geography class, we’re working on a project together.”

“That’s awesome, kiddo!”

Patton gently squeezed past Roman to get to the drawer behind him, getting out six sets of silverware. He hummed to himself as he put them down on the table, making sure that everything was even.

His mom and pop brought the supper – hamburgers, mushroom burgers, condiments, various kinds of potato chips, and salad – onto the table. Everybody sat down, Virgil hesitating slightly.

“You can sit next to me!” Patton offered, gesturing to the empty chair. Virgil nodded, quietly slipping into the chair.

“Now, Virgil,” Patton’s dad said. “We have a tradition of saying one thing that went well about the day before supper. You can join in if you want, or you can just say ‘pass’ and there’ll be absolutely no judgement from us. It’s something that we like to do, to help us look at the positives of our day, even if it’s been a bad one.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, his hands fidgeting in his hoodie pocket. Quiet clicks echoed through the room, probably from something in the pocket.

“Roman?” Mom prompted, looking to where he was sitting.

“Well, I got to work with Virgil today! They’re a really great friend and an awesome project partner,” Roman gushed, his face bright and happy. “Dad?”

“Well, I had a very productive meeting at work today. Sarah?”

Mom smiled. “I made plans with a friend to meet up to chat soon. We haven’t talked in way too long, I’m looking forward to it. Patton?”

Patton bit the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out what his positive would be. “Um… I finished a DBQ in time for the first time. Pop?”

“I get to try a new dressing on my salad tonight, it looks quite good. Virgil, would you like to go?”

Virgil looked up, their face a little startled. They looked around the table as if for reassurance. When they met Patton’s eyes, they both gasped.

Patton’s world suddenly looked more… alive. The colors were more vibrant, no more washed-out reds or yellows or too many grays; everything was fuller, more… complete.

“I found my soulmate,” Virgil breathed.

Patton knew that his family was probably making noise, trying to talk to him, being excited. But Patton wasn’t really aware of anything outside of the colors he could see now – the purple on Virgil’s jacket. The green of the grass. The blue of his shirt. The glimmering burgundy of the plates.

He glanced out the window, and almost stopped breathing at the color of the sky. It was a color impossible to describe - not white, there was more depth to it, but it seemed so intricate.

He’d heard the colors described before, he’d seen them without the blue added in. But now… the actual thing was so, so much better.

He met Virgil’s icy blue eyes again, grinning widely.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” he said shyly. Virgil gave him a small smile back.

“So are yours.”

[wafflebloggies]

Second Contact

[more of this]

They were building next door, again. Alan didn’t have any more idea what they were building than he’d had when they’d moved in, but the shuddering noises kept on and on and on, from behind the tall, bleak, green-painted steel wall around the perimeter of the place where the house next door had been. Alan lay awake and stared up at the ceiling, watching the lampshade sway in the pale slant of moonlight, jerking with each percussive thud. The noise usually stopped by midnight. His parents seemed to be able to sleep through it.

The lampshade jumped like a salmon. Alan jolted upright with a gasp. That one hadn’t even sounded like it came from next door. It sounded like something dropping onto the roof of their house, directly over his head.

He told himself to calm down, made himself lie down again. His imagination, it was just his imagination. It had to be. Nothing could-

The window creaked.

Alan was suddenly very aware of the space in the room, the night breeze stirring the curtains, the empty floor, every single hair that was trying to crawl right off his arms and the back of his neck. He'd never felt more awake in his life- he was pretty sure no other ten-year-old in the history of the world had ever been this awake, ever.

 His eyes were riveted on the window, where the moon shining against the curtains made a perfect backlit shadow theatre. The shape of Something- a slow, long, spidery, distorted Something- eased up the sash, and slid into the pool of shade under the window.

Into his room.

Alan wasn’t quite sure how he ended up out of bed, but he did it. Before the dark mass under the window started to move again, he had slipped out from under his bedclothes and into the recess between the bed and the wall. Directly in front of him, the tall obelisk of his wardrobe blocked the way. It was the biggest thing in the room- too big, really, for a room this small. It was right between him and the door.

The Something moved across the room. Flattened against the floor by the baseboard, all Alan could make out was the soft pad of footsteps on the rug under his ear. He couldn’t tell how many feet. He couldn’t even hear breathing. Very slowly, praying nothing would catch or shift or creak, he pushed out with his bare foot, felt with his toes under the wardrobe’s nearest corner for the heavy wooden knob of its front leg. The frail one, with the twist- the one his dad kept meaning to fix.

The Something stepped into the moonlight, into the centre of the room. Alan held his breath, shut his eyes tight, and kicked.

The wardrobe moved, but not much. At the horrible shifting creak it made, the Something turned suddenly, and Alan caught the flash of an eye and something else- something unearthly and inhuman that glinted like metal. He kicked again, terror giving an edge to his strength, and flung his shoulder against the back edge of the wardrobe. It was just enough.

The wardrobe toppled, the lower drawers sliding out as it went, thudding into the rug like a handful of giant’s dominoes. The Something let out a single shocked squawk before the whole thing went over, and before the heavy front had even slammed into the floor, Alan was moving, diving across the room for the torch in his desk drawer. He grabbed it and pumped it up, the whirring of the battery loud in the wake of the wardrobe’s settling crash. The strengthening beam of light swung wildly across the room, and Alan scrambled across the bed and peered down at the floor.

“Ow,” whined the Something. “That actually really hurt.”

---8---

“I mean you no harm,” said the alien.

It was a strange thing to say, considering. Most of the alien was sandwiched, firmly, under the bulk of the wardrobe. Alan, who was sitting on top of the wardrobe with his bare feet drawn up, to put as much weight on it as possible, shifted his grip on the mosquito whacker in his hands. He didn’t feel too confident, facing down an alien-robot-monster-thing with nothing but a two-dollar electrified tennis racket, but at least he wasn’t the one pinned to the floor.

He wasn’t entirely convinced by the thing’s delivery, either. The words were ‘I mean you no harm,’ but the way they were said sounded more like ‘you just wait.’

“Who are you?” he said, shakily. “What are you? What are you doing in my bedroom?”

He could feel it trying to pull itself free. It was hard to believe that the floor-shaking crash the wardrobe had made as it tipped had failed to wake either of his parents, but then, the three of them had been dealing with the horrendous construction noise from across the street every night since they’d moved in. Probably, by this point, his parents could have slept through an earthquake with very little disturbance. Alan didn’t dare get down off the wardrobe to fetch them, just in case his own relatively insignificant weight was the only thing preventing the thing’s escape.

The alien squirmed a bit, but seemed to realise it was well and truly stuck. It let out a long, impatient sigh. “Don’t freak out, okay,” it said, “but… I’m not from this planet.”

Alan stared. “Well, yeah,” he said, at last. “You’re an alien robot, I heard you landing on the roof.”

“I’m not a robot- you’re actually being very rude right now, you know? Just because parts of me happen to be inorganic-”

“Rude? You broke into my room!”

“The window was open!”

They stared at each other. The bedside lamp had been knocked over in the initial scuffle, and in the crooked slant of light Alan could see the alien’s eyes, very vivid emerald green and slightly reflective in its metallic face. It wasn’t a big creature. Given that most of it was under the wardrobe, it was maybe about the same size as he was.

“You know, this wasn’t the sort of welcome I was expecting at all,” said the alien. Its voice was loaded with accusation. “It took me a really, really long time to get here, I had a lot of majorly cool plans, and all that’s happened since I arrived is, people yelling at me, and refusing to listen, and now you actually attacked me, and I don’t- I don’t feel like you people are even taking me seriously at all! What do I have to do? Literally, what do you want from me, I’m the first contact you humans have ever had with an interstellar species, exponentially more advanced than your own, would it kill you to show me a little respect? I- I have a ship and everything! I… I…”

It stumbled over its words, and stopped. The silence dragged out for a little bit, and Alan was about to speak when to his astonishment and embarrassment he heard the alien make a noise like a stifled sniffle.

“Are- are you… crying?”

“No,” said the alien, furiously and damply.

Alan arrived at a decision. He put down the mosquito whacker and climbed down off the wardrobe, ready to dash back at any moment if the thing tried to make a move. He padded over to his school coat, hanging on the back of the door, went through the pockets and brought the alien a crumpled tissue, which after some hesitation it took, and blew its nose on.

“My name’s Alan,” he offered, sitting down on the rug by the alien’s side, against the wardrobe. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

It made a sound halfway between a hiccup and an incredulous sniff. “Hurt me? It’d take more than this stupid, flimsy little… uh…”

“Wardrobe.”

“…wardrobe, to hurt me. I mean, it’s kind of squashing me into the floor, but that’s no biggie.” Another nose-blow.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m- uh- well, my name is way too complex to translate into your primitive phonology. You can just call me, uh… the Captain.”

He posed, dramatically, or at least as much as he could, squished as he was between the wardrobe and the floor. He really didn’t look very comfortable.

---8---

“Cool! That’s great, Alan. Maybe you can start by getting this thing off me, how does that sound?”

Alan sat back on his heels.

“Actually, um, I’m not sure I can,” he admitted. “I don’t think I can move this thing by myself. Dad had to ask the guy next door to help us get it up the stairs. Mom says it’s genuine oak.”

“That’s nice,’ said the alien. ‘I’m glad I’m not having my spine crushed by some cheap knockoff.”

They tried, anyway. Alan braced his feet on the wall and pushed until he saw flashing lights, and the alien made a lot of straining noises without appearing to actually help much, but the wardrobe didn’t budge an inch. Giving it up as a bad job, Alan pushed his sweaty curls out of his face and tried to think.

“In movies,” he said, slowly, “kids always try to keep stuff like this a secret.”

“Which never works,” the alien pointed out.

“Yeah, it never- wait, how do you know?”

“Oh, I know movies,” said the alien, shifting under the wardrobe enough to rest his chin on his hands. “I’ve watched all of them.”

Alan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was just beginning to say ‘what do you mean, all of them?’ when a sound from the direction of his parents’ room down the hall brought him sharply back to the problem in hand.

“I’m going to get Mom and Dad,” he said, standing up. “Don’t worry, they’re… uh… don’t worry, okay? Just try to look… harmless.”

The small alien-robot-kid stuck half-under his wardrobe gave him a look that was at the same time both overly patient and quite unreasonably exasperated.

“I’ll try,” he said.

---8---

Alan knew his ground.

“We can't just call the police, Mom,” he said. “We can't. We don't know what they might do to him. What if NASA decides to, to experiment on him?”

His parents looked dazedly at him, the alien, and each other. They had the shellshocked faces of two sensible, rational adults who really weren’t prepared to be dealing with this sort of thing at 3AM.

“Alan-”

“There's this thing they showed us in class that they can do to monkeys, where they cut it open and put its brain in a sort of dish of chemicals, and it's still alive, and they poke it and make the monkey react, and its body is still twitching around even though its brain is gone! What if they do that to him?”

“Alan,” said his dad, after a rather queasy sort of pause, “it's not our-”

“It IS our responsibility, Dad! Look at him! He's not going to hurt anybody! What if they torture him? What if they kill him, and next week, his whole family shows up and atomizes the planet? We don't know! We're the only people who can do anything now, while his brain's still on the inside!”

The alien had listened to all this with the aloof, dignified expression of somebody who didn't understand a single word. Alan's mother put a hand on his dad's arm, and drew him across the room to the window, where they started to talk in urgent, grown-up whispers. There was a lot of pointing and waving, mostly from his dad, who talked with his hands. Alan watched them, trying to make out what they were saying, but after a minute the alien poked him in the leg.

“What did you tell them?”

“Um,” said Alan. “Just, er, that you're very important and it'd be good for Earth if they helped you, probably.”

The alien nodded. “Very diplomatic,” he said, approvingly. “Tell them they can start by getting this wardrobe off me.”

[hms-chill]

Coming Home

It's been years since either Alex or Henry has had a place that they can really settle into and call 'home'. Luckily, Henry has just bought the perfect one.

Kensington has never felt much like a place Henry lives. It feels like a hotel, a beautifully impersonal place to stay for a few nights before moving on. When Alex visits, he sees more of himself in the warren of rooms than he ever sees of Henry (though that may be due to their differing levels of cleanliness). Henry appears in the little things, in his journals and books and that damn copy of Le Monde that makes Alex feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but even the bedroom still feels like a hotel until Alex plops a bag into an ancient chair and lets his shoes fall haphazardly on the antique rug. He leaves things scattered around the room, and Henry asks if he's trying to spread his manifest destiny to his former ruler.

Alex doesn't say anything, and he certainly doesn't tell Henry that Bea occasionally sends him pictures of Henry wearing the sweatshirts and pajama pants he leaves behind. Those are saved in a special folder on his phone, and the way Henry looks in his clothes, everything a bit too short, is one of the best things he can imagine. Kensington may not look or feel like Henry's home, but it is still a place he can relax. It's a place where he can wear clothes that don't fit quite right but remind him that he's loved, wholly and unconditionally.

Alex especially doesn't tell Henry that he's printed a photo from Bea of Henry and David curled up in an antique chair, Henry wearing Alex's old lacrosse t-shirt and reading his copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban, or that the photo is framed on his desk. He just keeps leaving dirty clothes and battered paperbacks and color coded notes around Henry's rooms as if to scream that someone lives there. Someone lives in these staged rooms, and someone uses this museum furniture, and that someone is dating a queer brown American. Centuries of racist, homophobic monarchy can deal.

The White House bedroom is a bit more Alex's than Kensington is Henry's, but it's not really his, either. The White House is, after all, America's house. His family are essentially long-term renters, and no matter how much he tries to settle in, it's still a borrowed space. In four years, some other first child will come along. They'll find the message behind the wallpaper and the few unsealed windows, and maybe they'll paint over his walls like he painted over Sasha's. Hopefully they'll replace the ugly dog painting in the hallway.

He doesn't have quite the warren Henry does, and Henry doesn't settle into spaces the way Alex does in Kensington, but that doesn't mean he doesn't show up in the White House bedroom. He's in the V&A map hanging beside the congressional schedule and in the stacks of classics beside the Hamilton biography on Alex's bookshelf. When he visits, he doesn't stay in Alex's room, but Alex accumulates more and more little pieces of Henry every time. There's the Smithsonian guide book Henry bought and left, the tickets from their trip up the Washington Monument, and the 'emergency jumper' that Henry stores in Alex's closet and Alex absolutely does not study in. He is far too dignified to cozy up in his boyfriend's sweater and let the too-big sleeves flop over his hands (he doesn't know it, but Henry has a framed photo of him working in the jumper and his glasses, courtesy of June). Still, every time Alex hangs something on a wall or moves something in, it's with the knowledge that he will have to move it out in a few years.

The bedroom in the house in Texas that he'd move it to, though, isn't really Alex's anymore, either. It's the bedroom of the person Alex used to be, before he met the love of his life, found out he was bi, caused an international sex scandal, and learned to stop living ten years down the road. It's the bedroom of a boy who refused to look anywhere but dead ahead, and it shows. For years, there was a family photo on the desk, but he'd shoved it into the back of a drawer sometime during the divorce and never bothered to unearth it. There is a photo of him with June and Nora hanging on a bulletin board, but it's surrounded by old to do lists, tutoring schedules, an out of date calendar, and plans for 2016 campaign stops. The walls are decorated with memorabilia from Ravael Luna's and his mom's first campaigns, nearly covering a lacrosse team poster. It's the bedroom of a boy whose only goal was politics, now foreign and slightly dusty from disuse, and a part of Alex cringes every time he sees it. He wasn't happy when he lived in the room as it is now, not really.

Henry says it's good he doesn't fit the room anymore; it means he's grown in the four years since he lived there. That doesn't mean it's not strange to go home to a place that raised him, but no longer feels like home.

His dad's house out in California is the same way, though it never felt like home. Alex has a room there, but it's never really been his, no matter how many campaign posters he hung on the wall or lists he hid between the matress and the box spring. The lake house is the only place from his childhood that remains unchanged, and it's somewhere indescribably special to him, but it was never fully home. It's a place to relax and recharge, a great vacation home, but it's not somewhere he ever fully moved into.

In short, when Ellen Claremont-Diaz is re-elected, neither Alex nor Henry have a place that truly feels like home. Luckily, Henry's bought one. He's bought a four-bedroom Brooklyn brownstone where they can live together, and when he shows Alex the listing, Alex nearly smothers him in affection. They spend election night curled up in a bed that used to be Alex's, looking through floor plans and photos until they fall asleep.

-

When he crosses the threshold of the brownstone for the first time, Henry's hand in his, Alex can't help but imagine what it will be. They'll paint the walls and furnish it themselves, and everything in it will be theirs, al theirs. No more beds bought by dead people, no ugly paintings as political gestures, no jumping through hoops to put a nail in the wall and hang one picture. Henry tugs him forward, leading the way through the house they get to settle into together. Sure, another family may have lived here before, but it feels refreshingly new after their old homes. There are no ghosts in these walls, no centuries of previous owners to contend with. It's a new place for their new life together.

Hand in hand, they explore the living room, deciding where to put the TV and how big of a sectional they can fit in the space. They decide which bedroom to share, and Alex calls dibs on an office, and they plan out a decorating scheme for the guest bedroom that all of their friends and family will be comfortable with. They pick paint colors and enlist the help of June, Nora, and as many secret service and PPOs as they can, and by the end of the day, they're sleeping on the floor of a well-painted house.

The next morning, they take their regular fleet of security vans and spend the morning at Ikea, making final furniture decisions over meatballs and enlisting Cash and Amy to help carry boxes. The photo Henry takes of the living room two hours later shows Amy sitting on the couch she's built and Nora leaning against a bookshelf she put together while Alex and Cash are surrounded by a pile of boards and screws that should be an entertainment center. Eventually, a pizza dinner happens on the coffee table, with paper plates, the first card games in the new house, and lots of laughter. That night, they've moved their sleeping bags to a mattress that should go on a bed they haven't built yet.

They take the building and move in process slowly, interspersing it with walks around their new neighborhood and coffee runs to new shops nearby. They've dedicated the second day to their individual offices, but by noon, Alex has spent as much time in Henry's office as he has in his own, and the same is true for Henry. Which means that after lunch, they're dragging Henry's desk and bookshelf into Alex's office, re-organizing a bit, and planning another trip to Ikea to furnish a second guest room in what used to be Henry's office. By the third night, they're sleeping in a bed (though it doesn't have sheets yet), and when the moving van arrives on day four, the furniture is finished and it's beginning to feel like a home.

Day four is dedicated to all of the personal belongings left in their respective former homes. Cash and Amy help with the heavy lifting as Henry fills most of their bookshelves, leaving an anthology of queer fairy tales on the coffee table. Alex settles into the kitchen, hanging pots and pans from a rack on the ceiling and adding a command hook for his apron near his beloved coffee machine. Henry hangs a framed, pressed green carnation from Bea beside two of Alex's framed photos: one of a gay couple holding a sign that says "STAY OUT OF MY OUR BEDROOM" and another of a man whose jacket says "IF I DIE OF AIDS- FORGET BURIAL- JUST DROP MY BODY ON THE STEPS OF THE FDA". Nora stops by with a plant and a pair of pride flags for them, and June brings them a photo book of supportive street art from around the world. Shaan buys Henry an 'out of the closet' mug with queer figures from history on it, and Zahra gets Alex one that says 'Dumbest Creature on Earth' as housewarming gifts, and they find a home between the coffee maker and the electric kettle.

David finds his beds scattered around the house, one in nearly every room so he has a place to go if he needs it. By the fifth night in their new home, Alex walks into the bedroom to find Henry cuddled up and reading under the framed issue of Le Monde, wearing one of Alex's t-shirts with David dozing at his feet. He looks content and settled, and it is the most wonderful sight Alex can imagine.

Notes:

Ya girl's back to working in theatre, and since I got into theatre through set that means I'm back to thinking about physical space. I always feel weird writing about settings in prose, because I love the little details but I feel like describing them detracts from the overall mood and plot. Last time I was struggling with something I wrote up a little firstprince study, and y'all were great, so I'd love any feedback on how space is working for you in this. Is there enough of a balance between little details and bigger plot points? Does the space feel real/like it helps develop character? Let me know!

On AO3

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 15 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Thanks to everyone who told me / reported / helped with the plagiarism fiasco on AO3.  It was very much appreciated since I don’t have an active AO3 account.  Please, if you see my work copied anywhere, let me know!  For now, I am only posting this story to Tumblr.  I might decide to post to AO3 in the future, just so this never happens again.  I’ll let you know if/when I do.

Still loving all the Mo/Bee canon questions.  Keep them coming!  And if you haven’t seen, I’ve posted the playlist link for Spotify.  I’m working on the YouTube version.

Anyways, it’s Christmas in June!  Merry Christmas!

Since knowing Angie, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had grown to be Bee’s favourite days.  It wasn’t because of the small gifts her family gave to her, or because she got to stuff her face with amazing food.  It was because Angie’s younger brother, Joshua, would set up board games for the family to play on Christmas Eve before they went to midnight mass at their local Catholic Church, and then he’d put funny IOUs in everybody hand knit stockings (that he knit himself) on the fireplace mantle. ��It was because Angie’s family had a cozy wood-burning fireplace at their house that her dad would roast chestnuts in while her mom opened the tub of ice cream and scooped some out for everyone even after their enormous meal.  It was because their family dog, an old Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Sarah Jessica Barker (yes, really) would curl up on Bee’s lap as the family watched whatever movie was on TV.

Angie’s house, for however much it was not Bee’s home, felt like her natural home.  Besides her old apartment, it was where she felt most at ease, where she could kick her feet up, fall asleep on the couch, go into the fridge whenever she was hungry, and drop in whenever she wanted.  There was always room for her.  There was always space.  

When she arrived with Angie and Mason on the morning of Christmas Eve, Rocco and Clarette welcomed her with open arms and warm hugs.  Their house was decorated with all of Joshua and Angie’s old Christmas artwork from grade school, poinsettia tablecloths, and figurines on Santas, snowmen, penguins, polar bears, and more.  It sort of looked like Christmas threw up, but Bee loved it.  She loved how festive Clarette got and she loved how Rocco just let her decorate the house however she wanted.  

“How are yooooooouuuuuu,” Clarette cooed as she let go of her tight hug, her French Canadian accent music to Bee’s ears.  “I haven’t seen you in such a long time!  Angie told me you finally finished school.”

“I did!”

“And your graduation?  When is your graduation so we can book the day off?”

“Mom, you’re both retired.  You don’t need to book off anything,” Angie deadpanned.  

Bee giggled.  “It’s not until June, Clarette,” she informed her.  “You still have a lot of time.”

“What about jobs now?  Are you going to join Angie at Indigo?” Rocco joined in.  His voice was stern and serious, but Bee knew he was a complete softie who talked to the dog in a baby voice.

“I don’t think they’d allow that.  They’d destroy the place,” Mason piped up.  

“She’s in finance Rocco,” Clarette chastised her husband.  “She’s gonna handle our retirement savings.  Right mignonette?”  

“Sort of.”

“Well come in, come in.  Go drop your stuff off in your room,” Clarette encouraged.  “I’m going to make some tea.  You want your Earl Grey?  Rocco knows how to make a London Fog now.  We got a new machine.  Angie, tell Joshua dad is making London Fogs for everyone.”

Rocco and Clarette’s house was everything that Bee envisioned a family house to be.  It was a side split in the suburbs with three bedrooms on the second floor and a room converted to a fourth bedroom on a split level between the main and the basement.  It was very homey, not ostentatious in any way, although Rocco and Clarette did invest in some upgrades before they retired, like a new kitchen, a fresh paint job, and some new floors and furniture in the main living areas.  It was perfect and modest – what Bee dreamed of when she saw her life ten, fifteen, twenty years from now.  It was everything she could want.  

Her room was always the fourth bedroom.  When Rocco’s father lived with them for two years before he passed away, Bee would just shack up with Angie, but now the room was dedicated to her again.  She threw her weekender bag on the bed and plopped down dramatically, taking in the scent of the freshly washed sheets.  Clarette had even put a little chocolate on the pillow.  She was in heaven.  

A slight knock on her door revealed Josh standing in the doorway with a smile on his face.  At twenty, he was a tall, lanky university undergrad studying theatre at York University.  He wanted to become the next Shakespeare, or at least the next Laurence Olivier.  He even had a prop skull on his bedroom desk.  

“How’s my favourite Angie friend?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe.  

“Your mom’s the best.  You know that, right?”

Joshua chuckled.  “I do.”

“I hope you kiss her every night.”

“When I make it home,” he winked, waltzing into the room.  “Angie told me you’re done with school.”

“I am.”

“So are you going to be able to tell me what a poor starving artist I’ll be once I finish this theatre degree?”

Bee snorted.  “You’re going to marry rich, Josh.  Remember?  You’ll be richer than all of us combined.”

“I don’t think I’ll be richer than everyone,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside her.  “A little birdie told me you’re dating a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

She rose from her position dramatically.  “Your sister’s got a big mouth.”

“I’m sure Mason appreciates it.”

Bee pushed him over.  “You’re fucking gross, Josh.”

“Stop trying to deflect.  She told me it’s Morgan Rielly.”

“It is Morgan Rielly.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fine,” she side-eyed him.  “How’s Patrick?”

“Fine,” he gave her the same side-eye.  “He’s back home in St. Thomas, but we’re seeing each other Boxing Day.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, and she meant it sincerely.  She was glad Joshua found someone that made him happy.  “Are you guys gonna join your sister and I at the Eaton’s Centre?”

“We’re going to have brunch first, then we might, depending if we’re in the mood,” he said.  “Are you…I mean, how are you feeling about everything that happened?”

Bee knew that Angie would have told her family.  She was an extension of the family, so it was only natural.  And it was only natural that Josh was worried, that he cared about her and that he wanted to make sure she was okay, since it only happened a month ago.  “Better now,” she said, giving him a smile.  “I’m living at a new place with a doorman and stuff.  It feels much safer.  I got some new clothes and a new laptop, and everything’s been good.”

“My parents were really torn up about it,” he revealed.  “My dad was ready to hop in the truck and drive down to the Annex.  Angie had to stop him.  Told him it was already being taken care of.”

“Yeah.  Morgan helped a lot,” Bee revealed.  “And, um, you know, some of the other Leafs.”

A grin appeared on Joshua’s face.  “Look at you.  Getting help from the Leafs.”

“Hey kids!  London fogs are ready for you!” Rocco called loudly from the kitchen area.  “Get ‘em while they’re still hot!”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Josh stood up, extending his arm for Bee and pulling her up from the bed.  “Angie told Dad too and he’s gonna interrogate you for the remainder of the day.”

***

Christmas morning was typical of the Favaro household.  At around 8:15am, Bee heard Clarette clanking around in the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast that everyone would eat before they moved on to opening presents.  Soon, she heard Josh’s voice helping her out, probably preparing the pot of coffee.  Every Christmas morning, he was the designated bacon fryer – a job he took very seriously, since bacon was always the first thing to go.

When Bee emerged from her room, still in her pajamas like everyone else, she got a big hug and a kiss from Clarette.  Josh, already too busy with the bacon, pointed at his cheek for her to come over to where he was standing at the stove and kiss him, which she did.  Soon enough, Rocco, Angie, and Mason arrived, and everybody did their part to set the table and plate the scrambled eggs and bacon.  Rocco slapped Josh’s arm for eating a piece of bacon before everyone else could.  Angie almost spilled the entire sugar jar all over the counter.

When breakfast was done, they made their way into the family room to open presents.  Sarah Jessica Barker trotted over to the commotion and jumped up onto the armchair Bee was sitting on, snuggling herself into Bee’s side as Mason passed everybody their presents.  Bee bought Clarette and Rocco gifts every year despite their insistence that she not, and she also usually bought a gift for Josh.  

Clarette and Rocco began unwrapping their gift from Bee at the same time.  She got them both books – for Clarette, Elena Ferrante’s Neopolitan novels in her native French, and for Rocco, Warlight by Michael Ondaatje since he wanted to take up reading now that he was retired.  

“You’re always so thoughtful, Bee,” Rocco said, smiling at her as he read the book sleeve.  “I remember taking Clarette to go see the English Patient when it came out as a movie.”

“I’ve been wanting to read these forever!” Clarette exclaimed as she took the plastic film off.  She elbowed her husband next to her on the couch.  “You know, because they’re in French they’ll be closer to the original Italian.”

Josh opened his gift too – a mug with a packet of David’s Tea.  He drank more tea than the entirety of Britain, so it was only fitting.  Bee’s gift to Angie and Mason, S’well bottles, also went over well.  Josh got her a floral scarf, which she loved, and she threw it over her shoulders dramatically.  Angie and Mason got her a candle and a nice white frame, undoubtedly to put a picture of her and Morgan in for the new apartment.  Clarette and Rocco gifted Bee a nice cutting board, knowing how much she liked to cook, and also a gnocchi board that she was super excited about.  “From the good Italian supermarket,” Rocco said, nodding his head.  “That was probably made by an old nonna somewhere in Italy.”

“I’m gonna use it next week,” she said, her fingertips feeling the grooves, thinking about Morgan’s return to Toronto and how she cold make him homemade gnocchi now.  When Bee thought all was said and done, she noticed one more box under the tree that nobody had touched.  “What’s this one?” Bee asked, nodding towards the large box.

“Oh honey, that one’s for you,” Rocco said.  “Your man friend dropped it off.”

She froze at the mention.  She looked to Angie, who was actively avoiding her gaze.  “You…you mean Morgan?”

“Mhm,” Rocco nodded his head.  Josh handed her the box.  “Came yesterday afternoon.”

She gulped.  How did he even find the time to drive all the way up to North York to deliver it?  What could he have gotten her?  She…she didn’t get him anything.  She wrote him a nice card and stuffed it into his carry-on as a surprise for him, but she didn’t explicitly buy him a gift for Christmas.  She didn’t think he would for her either.  She should have known better though.  This was Morgan.  

Bee ripped open the sides carefully, and in one long stretch, the wrapping paper was pulled back to reveal ‘Mulberry’ on the box.  She froze again, her hand resting over the letters.  She knew exactly what this was.

She looked up.  The entire Favaro family was looking at her.  She took a deep breath.  She didn’t want to do this in front of them.  “Can I…um…can I…”

“You can go to your room if you need to dear.  I’ll start the hot chocolate,” Clarette nodded her head.  She got up and pointed at all the wrapping paper, then pointed at her husband.  “You.  Clean that up.”

Bee picked up the box, half-wrapped, and scurried into her designated bedroom, plopping the box down on the bed before closing the door.  She took a deep breath before ripping the rest of the paper off.  When she opened the box, she lifted up the dust bag and pulled out the Amberley satchel bag in the most gorgeous and perfect oxblood colour.  She had seen it with Lucy when they had gone shopping, and Bee had commented on how beautiful it was – the most perfect bag in the world besides the Birkin.  Lucy urged her to get it, but there was no way Bee could have justified the purchase after the Chanel bag, the Louis Vuitton bag, and the Yves Saint Laurent bag.  Lucy must have told Morgan, because of course she did. 

As Bee ran her fingertips over the pristine leather, she noticed two square outlines still in the dust bag.  She couldn’t even fully take in the absolute beauty of the bag after noticing them.  She set the satchel down gently and dug into the dust bag, pulling out two identical blue boxes with Birks ribbon wrapped around them.  

Bee gulped.  She had walked by the Birks storefront on Bloor Street West countless times, trying not to ogle the pretty and blindingly shiny diamonds in the window.  Now she was holding two boxes from them in her hands.  She was going to kill Morgan.  Absolutely murder him.

She began to open one, delicately pulling on the ribbon and opening the box to reveal a stunning gold bracelet.  Bee’s cheeks flushed as her fingertips felt the pearl and onyx.  She tried to imagine it on her wrist – and realistically, she could have just taken it out of the box right then and there and put it on – but for some reason, she didn’t.  It didn’t feel real to her; it didn’t feel like it was hers yet.  She didn’t get gifts like this.  She didn’t get expensive jewellery from boys – from anyone – and it didn’t feel like it was meant for her, although she knew Morgan probably scoured the store or the website for hours looking for the perfect gift.  

The second box.  She pulled the ribbon again, opening the box.  What she saw inside made her chest tighten fiercely.  Tears formed in her eyes automatically.  A beautiful, delicate necklace, in matching gold, with a bumblebee medallion.  For her.  Bee.

Morgan’s Bumblebee.

She grabbed her phone and ripped it out of the charging socket before dialling Morgan’s number.  As it rang, she barely registered that it was still only about 6am in Vancouver and he probably wasn’t even awake yet.  

“Mornin’,” he mumbled into the phone, not bothering to say hello.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Morgan…” she began, her voice cracking.  

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone immediately switching.  The last time he got an unexpected phone call from her and she sounded like this, it wasn’t exactly the best.

“I’m fine,” she clarified, wiping a tear from her cheek.  “But what’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You’re nuts, Morgan.  Absolutely nuts,” she continued.  “This is a $1500 dollar bag.  More, I think.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t accept this!”

“Wait, what?  Is it the wrong one?  Lucy said you loved it in the store!” he got worried.

“Morgan…I love it, it’s gorgeous, it’s the most perfect bag ever created aside from the Hermes Birkin, but I cannot accept this as a gift.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a $1500 bag!”

“I feel like we’re going around in circles here,” he admitted.  “That’s the bag you liked, right?  Lucy was adamant that that’s the one you liked.  The colour and everything.”

“Morgan, it is, but --”

“The bag isn’t even the important part,” he interrupted her.  “Did you find the jewellery?”

“Yes,” Bee said, and at the mention of the jewellery, new tears fell down her cheeks.  “Morgan, why are you like this?” she asked, not knowing how to word it in any other way.  

“Briony…”

“Why are you so nice to me?  Why do you buy me nice gifts all the time?” she asked, trying not to let her voice crack.  

“Bumblebee,” he began, his voice sombre.  “How many times do I have to tell you that you deserve it?” he asked rhetorically.  

“You know that you don’t need to like…buy my relationship, right?” she asked.  “I’m not some girl that needs to be bought.  I’d still be with you if you weren’t a rich hockey player.  I’d still like you and still cook for you.  I came from absolutely nothing and I can go back to nothing.  I’d give all that stuff back if I had to.”

“I know Bumblebee, I know.  But I’m gonna keep repeating it until it gets to you.  You deserve nice things.  I want to spoil you because you deserve it, not because I’m trying to buy you or anything.  You.  Deserve.  Nice.  Things.  For.  Once.  In.  Your.  Life.”

Bee tried to take his words to heart, but it was hard.  It was hard to take to heart when she wasn’t used to it.  It was hard to take to heart when growing up, Christmases and birthdays weren’t celebrated because it wasn’t affordable.  It was hard to take to heart when since sixteen years old she had been literally counting pennies to stay afloat.  Most importantly, it was hard to take to heart when her mother told her she didn’t deserve anything.  “Thank you Morgan.  I really…I really love the bumblebee necklace.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away the last of her tears.  “It’s beautiful.  I’m gonna think of you whenever I see it or touch it.”

“Good,” he said.  “My Bumblebee.”

There was a moment of silence.  “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Um, what you got me Friday night was enough,” he said, chuckling slightly.

Thoughts of that night came rushing back to her and she felt a shiver go up her spine.  It was probably the best sex she’d ever had.  Memories of it still flashed through her mind from time to time.  If she got lost in her thoughts, she could still feel Morgan pounding into her or pulling her hair.  She still had the marks on her ass to remind her too.  “Yeah.  That…that was good,” she said quietly, trying not to get too riled up thinking about it.

“When I come back, I wanna fuck you wearing only that necklace,” he said in an equally quiet voice.  His tone sent more shivers down her spine.  “Unless you have some other pieces you’re waiting to surprise me with…”

She smiled.  She thought about some of the other sets of lingerie she bought and wondered how he would react to them.  “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned in response.  She giggled and he groaned some more.  “You’re such a fucking tease.  Fuck.  I woke up hard dreaming about what I’m going to do to you when I get back.”

“This is the Lord’s Day,” she joked.  “I don’t think he appreciates your dirty mind or you getting hard the morning of his birthday.”

He groaned even louder and she let out a heart laugh.  “Don’t remind me.  We still have to go to Church.”

“Will I be able to talk to you later today?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said.  “After my wine drunk nap I take after lunch, I’ll call you.  So maybe three or four my time.”

“Okay,” she agreed.  “Merry Christmas, Morgan.”

“Merry Christmas, Briony.”

She paused before hanging up the phone, wondering if there was anything else to say.

***

The Eaton’s Centre was packed.  Bee tried to get Angie to wake up on time so they could at least get there at mall opening, but Angie was a bitch in the morning and liked to sleep in, so they were late.  It was 10am by the time they arrived, and shoppers were in full swing.  Angie was doing a majority of the shopping anyway; Bee didn’t exactly need anything more.  Maybe she’d pick up a book or two.

But first, coffee.  

As they stood in line in the Starbucks at Indigo, Bee looked down at her phone to field some more messages from another round of bots that seemed to have infiltrated her Instagram.  She began automatically deleting the messages until one message in particular caught her eye.

R u dating morgan rielly?  Do I have ur attention now?  U didn’t answer me last time.

She furrowed her eyebrows.  Who was this person?  She clicked on the profile, but whoever it was had it on private; the only thing Bee could see was a half-face selfie of a girl who looked five years younger than she did with false lashes and lipstick.  She went back to her inbox, deciding not to delete the message.  Instead, she took the opportunity to actually read what was being sent to her.  It became adamantly clear to her these accounts weren’t bots.

If you’re dating Morgan shouldn’t you be prettier and skinnier?  Sent from a girl with a bikini shot as her profile picture.  

are the leafs wags as nice as everyone says? i wanna become one who is single?  Sent from a girl who didn’t look older than 12.

Cut your hair.  It doesn’t look good.

Do you really think Morgan doesn’t cheat on you when they’re on the road?  Hockey guys have bunnies in every city.

Ur just a puckbunny wanting morgan’s money.  stay away from him!!!!!!!!!!

You’re such a slut.  Stay away from Morgan.

Just another puckbunny making her way around the leafs.  You are pathetic.

“Grande caramel macchiato with coconut milk for Briony!”

So u go to u of t and u think ur smart?  Whatever bitch

What does Rielly see in you?  You’re so ugly

“Bee, you should grab your drink before someone else steals it.”

Why don’t u post pics w morgan

Can you please post pics with morgan so we can see

Why are you so close with some of the wags but not with others?

I hope u know morgan prob just keeps you around as a fuckbuddy.  He’s got them all over the city.  There were hundreds of girls before you, and there will be hundreds of girls after you.  Actually, there are prob hundreds of girls DURING you too.

“BRIONY!” Angie’s voice screaming her name pulled her out of her trance.  When she looked up, Angie was holding both their drinks, shoving her caramel macchiato towards her.  “What’s so important on your phone?”

“N-Nothing,” she said, locking her screen and shoving her phone into her jacket pocket.  

“Did Morgan send you a dick pic?”

“Can you not?” Bee slapped the arm of her best friend.  “You’re so crude.  You’re just like your brother.”

“Well, same genes and all.”

“Where are we going first?” Bee changed the subject.

“We need to go to Sephora.  If the Nars Sheer Glow is as good as you say it is then I need to get some.”

As Briony followed Angie around in Sephora, she tried to get rid of the thoughts swirling around her head about the messages from the random girls.  She assumed this is what Morgan meant when he said some Leafs fans could be crazy and obsessive.  But were these fans?  Or did these girls just want to hook up with Morgan?

As Angie chatted with a Sephora consultant about her foundation shade, Bee took out her phone again to see the rest of the messages that were sent to her.  A lot of them were variations of the messages she had read earlier.  Some accounts had even messaged her multiple times.

Can u pls post pics with mo where u show his face pls ppl are wondering if ur dating him and we need to know

Aren’t you a little too fat to be a wag?

What’s stephh lachancee like in person shes so pretty

Ur a puckslut.  Ur only after Mo’s money.  U should be ashamed of urself

Everybody knows you’re dating Morgan so there’s no point in hiding it anymore.  The more you deny it the more we’re gonna message you.  Just post a pic with him already.  Get over yourself.  You’re such an attention seeker by NOT posting a pic with him and it’s honestly ridiculous.  Stop lying and stop trying to play coy.

Bee mostly wondered where these people got the audacity to send her such messages.  She didn’t understand why they were being so hostile, and why they wanted information about something that was so clearly private.  Did they just think she would message them back?  That she’d reveal juicy, salacious details about their relationship?  That she’d send them pictures of Morgan that were on her camera roll?  What exactly did they want?

As she started to delete all the messages, she heard giggles and saw two girls out of the corner of her eye.  They were whispering to each other something Briony couldn’t hear because of all the commotion in Sephora, but then she swore, she swore she heard the iPhone camera shutter sound.  She looked up immediately to see the girls giggling at something on the phone they were looking at.  The phone wasn’t in her direction, but Bee got self-conscious.  When they both looked up from the screen at the same time and noticed Bee staring at them, they stopped giggling.

“Are you taking a picture of me?” she asked.

The one girl, with the phone in her hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  It was her friend that came to her rescue when she piped up, “No no!  We’re not!  We just love your Chanel bag.”

Bee looked down at the bag, the one Morgan had technically paid for, with pearls adorned all over it, the logo still shining against the leather and satin material.  She looked back up at the girls, who were still looking at her.  “Um, thanks?” Bee didn’t know what else to say.

“Where’d you get it?” the one with the phone asked.  These girls weren’t older than sixteen.

Bee gave her a look.  “At Chanel…?” her response came out more as a question than a statement.  Where else would she buy a Chanel bag?  

“Right.  Of course.  Sorry if we…we just really liked your bag,” they scurried away, looking mortified but still smiling at each other as they ran out of Sephora, looking down at the girl’s phone.

“Bee?!  Where’d you go?  I found the shade!” Angie’s voice called from the next aisle, her head slightly above the top shelf.  “Come here!”

Bee returned to the Nars aisle, and saw that the beauty expert had matched her skin tone perfectly.  “That looks amazing, Angie.”

“Where’d you go?” Angie asked, grabbing the foundation from the beauty expert and putting it in her basket.

“I just had teenage girls take a picture of my bag,” Bee said, shaking her head in disbelief still that it had happened.  “That was…I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

Angie shrugged her shoulders.  “It is a nice Chanel bag.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Thirty Four

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

March 15th, 2017

Logan was having problems. Not with his new name, although it was frustrating him that he couldn’t figure out a good middle name that he liked after finding his first name was a snap. No, he was having problems because he realized he still liked guys.

He wasn’t pretending to like them when he thought he was a girl, but now that he knew he was a guy, that attraction was still there and he wasn’t feeling any attraction to any of the girls at his school. He wasn’t sure how his parents felt about transgender people, but he knew they definitely didn’t like gay people.

It was hard, hiding that he was trans and gay. He just hoped one day he’d be around people who didn’t mind either of those things. And, if he was feeling bold, he hoped there was someone out there who would be romantically interested in him despite being trans.

September 23rd, 2019

Logan walked into Jack’s house with a grin. “Thank you for letting me in, Mister President.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mister Vice President,” Jack said with a laugh, closing the door. The two practically ran up to Jack’s room to hang out and get homework out of the way so they could talk about whatever they wanted. “You know my parents don’t mind us talking about more ‘mature’ things around them, right? We don’t have to hide in my room to hang out and talk about things.”

“Neither do mine, now,” Logan said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable doing it.”

“All right, fair point,” Jack conceded, walking into his room and sitting on the lower bunk of his bed, while Logan took Jack’s desk chair as they both pulled out homework.

They worked through Calculus, and History, and Logan finished his English while Jack struggled with his Physics homework. When Logan finished the required reading of the night and Jack was still struggling, Logan came over and sat next to him on the bed, ignoring the flutter in his stomach as he did so. “Here, let me help,” Logan said. “You said yourself that you need to visualize the circuit if you ever want to finish this fast, so I can sketch out the circuit for you here and you can do it on the others.”

Jack wordlessly passed over his homework and pencil and Logan made a small drawing of the circuit in the margins. “There you go,” Logan said, passing it back.

“Thanks, man,” Jack said with a grin.

“It’s not a problem,” Logan shrugged off.

“No, really, Lo. Thank you,” Jack insisted.

Logan smiled even as his heart hammered in his chest. He scratched the back of his neck. “Anytime, Jack.”

Jack finished his physics homework quickly after that and the two clambered into the top bunk of Jack’s bed. When Logan was staying with Jack, he always took the bottom bunk to sleep in. But when they were just hanging out, they’d both regularly squeeze themselves into the top bunk. It was a tight fit, but neither of them minded.

Some time passed, and Jack and Logan were still lying in Jack’s bed, laughing at nothing in particular. Jack was scrolling Tumblr, and Logan was staring up at Jack’s ceiling. His stomach fluttered uncomfortably when he looked at Jack and he didn’t fully understand why. Jack was his best friend, and even if Logan developed feelings for Jack, he didn’t want to mess up what they had.

When Jack touched Logan’s wrist lightly, it felt like electricity shot through Logan’s veins. He looked over at Jack, and Jack offered him a grin. “You’ve been stuck in your head all afternoon,” he teased lightly. “And I know you’re not stressing about homework because we finished it all.”

Logan shrugged and said, “You know how it is. Tests coming up, peers being...well, however they choose to be that day, and with the new school year...it’s all a lot to take in.” Jack chuckled and Logan felt his ears get hot. “Something funny?” he asked, voice cracking in the middle of the question.

“Sometimes...you can be so oblivious,” Jack said. “Not in a bad way, but just...you see, but do not observe.”

Logan propped himself up on one arm, tilting his body towards Jack’s. “What don’t I observe, Sherlock?”

Jack’s hand reached out to touch Logan’s free wrist, and it lingered on his pulse point. “My romantic advances,” Jack said softly.

“Wait. You...you like...boys?” Logan asked, brain stuttering to a halt.

“Boys, meh. Men? Hell yes,” Jack said, voice growing deep and somewhat sultry.

Logan’s eyes flickered over Jack. His tousled brown hair, the way his muscles were growing from doing lacrosse at school, the cocky grin he wore, the lips he had been dreaming about kissing for months. He moved forward in an instant, lips colliding with Jack’s until not only sparks, but an entire forest fire grew between them. Logan didn’t have much experience kissing anyone, let alone his best friend, but Jack. Jack knew how to kiss.

His movements were sure, mouth moving in time with Logan’s. Jack had one hand at the nape of Logan’s neck and Logan had a hand on Jack’s hip. Logan could feel the beginning of stubble on Jack’s upper lip, and he felt a small thrill go through him. This was real, this was happening. Jack liked him. He couldn’t believe it.

When they pulled apart, Logan was panting a little and Jack laughed. “Did you forget to breathe?!” he asked.

“For the first ten seconds, maybe,” Logan said. “Um. Does this mean we’re boyfriends?”

“Do you...want to be boyfriends?” Jack asked, running his hand down Logan’s side.

“Yes,” Logan breathed. “Yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Jack grinned. “Then we’re boyfriends,” he said calmly. Firmly. No room for argument. “But seriously. How did you not know I was into men? I’m the president of the GSA, Lo! You’re my vice!”

“I assumed that you were...not an ally, but maybe bisexual, with more of an interest in girls,” Logan said with a shrug. “After all, a lot of the girls at school fawn over you, especially when you’re practicing lacrosse. And you seem to enjoy their attention.”

“Sure, I like attention, and yeah, girls are cute sometimes, but I prefer guys, Logan,” Jack said. “Why do you think I joined lacrosse? I get to have hot guys surround me every day for an hour after school!”

Logan barked out a laugh. “Fair enough, I suppose. So are you bi? Or pan?”

Jack considered. “Pansexual, I guess,” he said. “Though saying I’m bi is easier to understand for most people, so I generally use that.”

“Cool,” Logan said. “I’m gay, I think, but nonbinary people are cool, too. Occasionally feminine-aligned nonbinary people might catch my eye, but for the most part it’s guys and more...not feminine enbies.”

Jack shrugged. “You could be bi, too. Or you could just say you’re gay. And of course, the label queer is always open for you to use.”

“I’ll probably use queer, honestly,” Logan said with a shrug. “It’s easier for me and everyone else.”

A comfortable silence fell over them. Jack looked at Logan and kissed his nose. “Do your dads know you’re queer?”

Logan paused. “If they didn’t, they’re gonna find out when I get back home and tell Roman that he was right, apparently.”

“About me being your boyfriend?” Jack asked with a grin.

“He knew I liked you before I knew I liked you,” Logan said. “He’s probably going to ask when the wedding is.”

“Tell him it’s after we graduate college, provided we’re still together then,” Jack said.

Logan glanced at him. “You serious?”

“Yeah, man. If we can date for six years and not want to break up by the end of it I’d love to marry you,” Jack said with a shrug. “I mean, I assume I would. That’s how that sort of thing generally works, from what I’m told.”

“As a concept, though, marrying someone feels kinda...hazy,” Logan said.

“Yeah, exactly,” Jack said. “Right now, I’m just happy to have you as my boyfriend.”

Logan could feel his cheeks start burning like a wildfire, and Jack grinned, kissing him on the lips, briefly. “Should we get something to drink and tell my parents the good news?”

As they got down off the top bunk, insecurity flared up in the back of Logan’s mind. “Are you sure they’ll approve?”

“They already see you as a son, Lo,” Jack reassured. “They might make jokes about you becoming a son-in-law, but that’s the worst they’ll do. They’ll love to hear that I decided to do something about my pining.”

Logan laughed a little and let himself be led downstairs into the kitchen. When they got there, Misses Harkness was already pouring two glasses of lemonade. One look at the both of them and she grinned. “Logan, honey, your hair’s a little mussed up, and you have a little bit of stuff on your lower lip. If you don’t want the world to know you made out with my son a few minutes ago, you might want to fix that.”

Logan turned deep red and fixed his hair the best he could without a mirror and wiped the bottom of his lip with his thumb. Jack groaned. “Mom,” he said. “You’re gonna make him regret agreeing to be my boyfriend!”

“Jack, if I can stand you, with all your flirting at everyone, your dorky references to shows that I’ve never seen, and your passion for theatre without any desire to actually do something about it, such as trying out for the play or becoming the head sound tech, then I’m pretty sure I can stand your mom teasing me a little,” Logan informed him quickly.

“Well, if I can stand you, with all your obliviousness to anything romantic being shoved your way, your Doctor Who jokes which never ever stop, and your overall emotional threshold being similar to that of a small child before you get overwhelmed and can’t regulate your responses, then I’m pretty sure I can stand anything you and your family will try to throw at me,” Jack responded smugly.

Logan’s jaw dropped open. “Are you seriously trying to outdo me right now?”

Jack shrugged with a grin, accepting lemonade from his mom. “Maybe so,” he said.

Logan huffed and took his offered lemonade, taking a sip before he responded. “This is a battle you’ll lose, Jack Matthew Harkness, don’t test me.”

“Oh, you used my full name, I’m quaking in my boots!” Jack exclaimed, making an exaggerated terrified face.

Logan rolled his eyes and sipped at his lemonade. “You’re still being an a-hole, Jack, and I stand by that sentiment.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s one of the reasons why you like me,” Jack said with a grin.

“If you two are going to continue to flirt, please do it outside the kitchen, I actually need to start making dinner soon,” Misses Harkness said, shooing them away.

“Come to think of it, your folks are probably gonna pick you up soon,” Jack said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Well, I can grab my things and we can sit on your porch drinking lemonade until it’s time for me to go,” Logan offered.

Jack pointed at him with a grin. “You see, this is why I like you, Lo. You’re always trying to make the best out of any situation.”

Logan turned pink and scurried upstairs to get his things before coming back down and letting Jack lead them both out to the porch. They sat on the top step and took sips of their lemonade, just enjoying the silence between them. “So, I’m assuming we’re exclusive,” Logan said.

“Yeah, we’re both monogamous, so we’d be exclusive,” Jack agreed. “I don’t want to share you.”

“Nor I, you,” Logan said, sipping at his lemonade. “Although, if you’re worried about being out at school, and you want to continue letting girls flirt with you, I understand—”

“Hey, Lo, no,” Jack said, draping an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I don’t care what other people think of me. You go to school every day risking someone getting mad at you, just because you take testosterone and use he and him. Compared to you, I don’t have nearly as big a chance of people insulting me. And if they get offended that I’m dating you, well, it’s their problem. I don’t want us to be a secret if it doesn’t have to be. I want people to know that I love you, and if they have a problem they can come to me and I’ll show them what bigots get when they try to insult either of us.”

Logan smiled softly. “A knuckle sandwich?”

“A knuckle sandwich,” Jack confirmed. “And maybe more, depending on how much they insult you.”

“You don’t have to fight on my account, Jack,” Logan said.

“Maybe not, but I want to,” Jack said. “I want people to know that if they mess with you they’re messing with me.”

Logan smiled and kissed Jack softly, which Jack returned with a little laugh into Logan’s mouth. A moment later they were interrupted by a loud cheer and an, “I knew it!” coming from the driveway.

They jumped apart and Logan turned toward the offender with a glare. “Shut up, Roman! We only started dating today!”

“I knew it! I knew you two would start dating eventually!” Roman crowed. “Come on, Ami’s back home making dinner and I’m sure Dad will want to hear all about your new boyfriend!”

Logan sighed and turned to Jack. “Looks like I have to go.”

“I gathered,” Jack said, giving him a quick peck on the lips and taking his lemonade. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“See you tomorrow,” Logan said with a smile on his face.

When he got in the car along with Roman, Dad was sitting there, smiling at him. “What?” Logan asked.

“I just figured...it’s about time that you and Jack got together. Everyone knew you two were pining except for the two of you,” Dad said.

Logan leaned back in his chair and groaned. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Okay,” Dad said. “Do I need to tell you and Roman about safe sex practices?”

“No!” Logan and Roman exclaimed at once.

Dad laughed the whole way home.

[wiggly-blue-shite]

Chapter 11 The Bell Doesn’t Dismiss You (Tedgens)

"Yes I would!" Ted smiles brightly. His smile is adorable. I really love his smile. He's a sweetheart.

But I'm mad at him. Yeah. He's at my house without permission.

I side step to let him get past. Ted steps past me. He seems almost in awe of my house. He's studying it.

"You're house is so nice." He seems genuinely impressed. My house is very averagely suburban. I can't imagine how this place could be impressive to anyone.

"Thanks I guess," I throw myself in the couch. I'm not going to act any differently just because he decided to show up at my house.

I expect Ted to take my general sluggishness as a cue for him to sit down. But he does not sit down. He simply stands there. He looks pretty uncomfortable. I'd be lying if I was said I wasn't enjoying it. It's not everyday you see a guy like him looking so awkward.

"You can sit down, Ted." I can't help myself but to smile. He may be somewhat popular, but he's also a total dork.

"Thank you." Ted sits down across from me. He looks uncomfortable. I don't want to make him uncomfortable, I just... I don't know.

He cane all this way.

"Y'know I'm fine." I don't know that that's true. But he shouldn't worry about me.

"Is that so?" Ted leans forward. Is he trying to play the therapist? I mean that's a bold decision but ok. Yes and, I guess.

"Well I've been better." I feel like this is not the dynamic I want right now. The uncomfortable therapy dynamic is one I tend to avoid. For reasons that are now obvious.

"Now were getting somewhere." He is actually going for the therapy vibe. Wow I hate this. "Do you want to talk about it?" Jesus Christ

Yeah fuck that. Seriously.

"No."

Ted looks a little caught off guard. Did he think that would work? He is a dumbass. A cute dumbass, but nonetheless a dumbass.

"So what do you want to do instead? I drove here, I'm making my trip worth it." Ted's eyes light up, "You know what might cheer you up?"

I'm a little scared for what he might have in store. I don't know him well enough to predict his actions.

"What?" I try not to let my fear show.

"What we're talking about at lunch?" Ted looks giddy with excitement. Wow and people call me a dork.

"The next school show?" I barely remember lunch. It feels like it happened last week. Today has been an eventful day.

"What else?" Wow he really wants me to guess. It's either actually a good idea or he's just a total dumbass dork. It's kind of adorable. He's like a dopey little puppy.

A puppy with an adorable crooked jaw. And intense and beautiful eyes. And strong sexy arms. And...

Stupid fucking hormonal body.

"Teching," I might as well play along and list things, "baseball, makeup, fa-"

"DING DING DING!" He cuts me off.

Makeup? I remember talking about my makeup. What were the specifics?

"I'm sure Henry would love to do your makeup." Fucking Emma.

"You would actually let me to do your makeup?" He's just offering that to be nice. He doesn't actually want me to do it. He'll look dumb.

"Yeah! It'll cheer you up and it also sounds like fun." See he's just doing it to cheer me up. He doesn't have an actual interest.

"I'm not that good at makeup." I'll just make him look like a whore. I don't want to make him look bad.

"Well that's bullshit, because you looked awesome." Ted smiles. His smile is so genuine and sweet.

I feel my face heat up. GOD DAMNIT HORMONES. I wish I could just turn off that part of my brain and just focus on science and theatre.

"Yeah ok." Ok this is happening now.

I stand up and walk over to the stairs. All my makeup is upstairs.

I get halfway up the stairs and I realize that Ted isn't following me. I can just picture him sitting awkwardly on the couch. I can't help but laugh a little.

"You can follow me." I call over my shoulder and start up walking up the stairs again.

Oh shit he's going to see my room. Like my room. Like where I sleep every night. Where most of my stuff is. I haven't cleaned it in a little while. Shit.

I got to get the makeup and try now to focus on him being in my room. I catch a glimpse of him looking around my room. He doesn't look utterly disgusted, so that's good.

"You can sit there." I point at my desk chair. It's the only real place I can have him sit. I'd probably freak out if he even touched my bed.

I set the makeup box on the desk. I kneel down to get a better angle of his face. We are extremely close to each other. Oh god.

Ted blushes. He's blushing. Why is he blushing? Am I making him blush? No, no way that's impossible. He's straight. Yeah and even if he wasn't why would he be into me.

If I keep thinking about this I'll make him look bad. I don't want that.

"Where do I start?" I study his face closely. I try to subside my emotion... and urges. I want him to look good, and for it to fit him. I don't know how to do that. Not yet at least. "What colors do you like?" That's a start.

I catch myself staring at his lips.

"Uhh, green, purple, and red." I wouldn't expect purple. I like that for him though.

"Green, Purple, and Red! What a beautifully disgusting mix of color." That is a nightmare to color theory, "Pick one of those three."

I'm really hoping he picks purple. I don't know. I just really love that color for him. It's the last one I'd expect.

"Purple." Ted nods. I can't help but to smile. He might now be the smartest but he can still make a good decision.

"Good choice."

Ted smiled back. My heart flutters. He's very attractive and I'm not ok with it.

"Why thank you." His smile is so sweet. Focus on makeup! Ahhh.

I rummage through my makeup to see if I got some any cool purple things. Oh my god! I forgot I bought that.

"Ok are you cool with purple lipstick?" Even if he says no, I'll probably put it on him anyway. Because seriously it's so good.

"Go for it. You're in charge here."

Yes! Oh he's going to look great. I'm a little too excited about this. I can't believe it but this is actually working. He's actually cheering me up.

After some trial and error I have finally hit the look I think looks best for him. His eyeshadow fade of multiple shades of purple and magenta. I couldn't help myself but do a little eyeliner, biting extravagant. Deep purple lipstick that he rocks a little to well. I did a little bit of contouring and oh boy cheekbones.

Well time to show him what he looks like. I pull out my little mirror.

"Ok." I turn the mirror to him, "What do you think?"

The suspense is killing me. I really really hope he likes it.

"Oh my god!" Ted's face lights up, "I look fucking awesome." I can't believe he likes it! I really can't. I can't help but smile like a dork.

"I'm so glad you like it!" I feel my face heat up. I kind of wish I didn't take off my makeup earlier.

"How could I not like it?" God he looks good, "Do you feel any better?"

I nod because I'm just to upbeat for words.

"Good." His smile kills me.

My phone starts buzzing. I look over at it. I'm expecting Emma to be calling me. Except it's not Emma, it's my mom.

"One sec." I grab my phone and leave the room. I kind of know what they're going to say but it's fine.

"Hey mom"

"Hey sweetie." She pauses for a split second, "Listen, Dad and I have to leave town for a couple of day." I know what's coming, "it's grandma."

I've avoided grandma since I came out. She's extremely conservative. I don't want to deal with that.

"Ok I get it."

"You'll be ok right?" I've been home alone enough times.

"Yeah, I will."

"Ok I got to go, bye! I love you."

"I love you too." And she hangs up.

I put my phone back in my pocket and enters the room again.

"Is everything alright?" Ted looks genuinely concerned.

"Yeah my parents are just out of town." I start to put makeup away. "So what do you want to do now?"  I plop myself down on my bed and look across to him. For some reason I don't want him to leave.

"Well I need to get a photo of myself like this." Ted takes out his phone out. He stands up and sit next to me on the bed. He takes a quick selfie of himself, with me just kinda in the corner of it. "Seriously though this is awesome."

He sitting next to me, on my bed. Oh Jesus Christ. I know my face must be bright red. My palms are sweaty and my heart rate is going crazy.

"Why are you here, Ted? We don't know each other that well." I genuinely want to know. My imagination could have a field day with all the different possibilities.

Ted shifts his body weight to face me. He takes a deep breath. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

"In all honestly, I care about you. I don't really know why, but I do." Ted's eyes trail down to my lips. What the fuck is happening? His eyes snap back up to my eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"Thank you." He went out of his way to be overly nice to me.

"No problem, man." Ted leans forward. My heartbeat gets more intense. He hugs me. This is nice. I wrap my arms around him and hug back him back. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

[veilingofthesun]

Matilda the Musical at Malmö Opera - review

Our review is finally done. We apologise for any spelling and grammar mistakes. English is not our first language and we wrote it down really fast after seeing the production so we wouldn’t forget anything. This is a very long review because there’s so many things that we wanted to include. Still, we didn’t go deep into detail about everything, because then we would never have finished this review. If you have any questions, need clarifications, want us to go more into detail about something or are wondering about something we didn’t mention, just ask. We’d be more than happy to answer your questions.

The layout of the theatre

Malmö Opera has a big and very deep stage, so without the stage feeling crowded or small, they have the orchestra on stage(on a turntable) on a platform. The back of the platform is covered with black fabric, so you don't know that they're there. This orchestra is bigger, at least twice the size. Since the orchestra is not using the orchestra pit,  there's an 'extra' piece of stage on top of it, There's two curtains, one that is only visible before the performance starts. It's placed in the middle of the stage, has different sized 'boxes' and spells out Matilda. Different book titles are projected on it. When the performance is about to start the curtain turns black and there's light shining through the openings between the boxes. The curtain rises and reveals the second curtain that is further back. There's a frame on stage that consists of books stacked on top of each other. The second curtain fits into the frame, it has book stacks in the same light colour as the frame. The 'boxes' are present in this curtain too, with books in between the boxes.

The auditorium is very open and has four aisles (with stairs), two side aisles and two middle aisles, all of them lead up to the stage and are frequently used by the cast. A long row of spotlights hang from the ceiling, this will be important in The Hammer...

The set

Books are very present in this set. Pop up books are used in a very clever way. When Matilda is sent to her room, a huge book appears on stage. When the door is opened, Matilda's room 'pops' up: a loft bed, a desk with a chair and drawings on the wall (drawings that show excerpts from the acrobat and escapologist stories) The wallpaper is blue and has words written on it. The pop up book has pages that Matilda turns. When she turns the page to a hallway, three doors and a huge plant pops up. The same with the bathroom, a mirror, a sink, shelves with bottles and a toilet pops up. Maybe pops up is not the right way to describe them, you could say that they fold themselves up....

Miss Honey's house is a book that is rolled in, laying down. Matilda and Miss Honey open it up, and a bed, a small wooden box that serves as a table, and a tea pot and tea cups(made out of paper) pops up. Miss Honey's wallpaper is a mild yellow and just like Matilda’s, there are words written on it. There's a small window and on the wall hangs drawings that her pupils have drawn for her. For example, a drawing of Miss Honey in her pink dress,surrounded by children.

In When I grow up, there's climbing frames that look like books standing on their sides. They are also used in The smell of rebellion for the pupils to climb over.

The two long benches that are used as school benches are always on stage, if they're not in the classroom, they're placed on each side of the stage. The classroom has a board with a long bench in front of it. The students sit on long benches that are attached to a table each. The benches has books underneath them. The school gate is pulled all the way down at the beginning of School Song. During the school scenes it usually loams above and in the background of the set pieces.

During the library scenes the curtain is behind them and occasionally opens up to reveal the acrobat and the escapologist. When Matilda tells her stories, her drawings of what happens in the stories are projected onto the curtain. The projections sometimes appear to be moving at a fast speed towards the audience. It's really effectfull and beautiful.

Mrs Phelps book cart is quite big, it has three shelves in it and has a big space on top for Mrs Phelps to sit on. Matilda also stands on top of it sometimes during the stories. Other than books, Mrs Phelps also stores a box of biscuits there. The cart also has words on it, similar to Matilda’s and Miss Honey's wallpapers.

The Wormwoods living room, has a huge screen, facing the audience, a couch and an armchair. When the dance competition starts in Loud, the curtain rises, the turntable rotates and the orchestra is visible for the rest of the number.

The lightning is very harsh, black and dark blue most of the time. The exception is Miss Honeys classroom, it's still dark, but a mild yellow light shines on her and spreads throughout the classroom. Miss Honeys house has the same mild and welcoming colouring.

The library is also yellow, but warmer and brighter. During the stories, the lightning is darker. but is broken up by the projections.

Act 1

Miracle

The overture is not the same as in the original. It's hard to explain, it is a short piece that leads into the quiet theme. It's really good though.

It starts with the 'curtain' rising and the bench, with the kids sitting on top of it, being pushed forward. Two kindergarten teachers, a female dressed as a cupcake, and a male dressed as a bunny, enter from the sides. The cupcake welcomes all the parents to the end of the year concert. The parents enter from the stairs(this theatre has four aisles/stairs) calling out for their kids, waving and taking pictures. The kids stand up on the bench and start playing their instruments, badly. (It's obviously the orchestra playing...it sounds like the start of Miracle, but really out of tune.)The bunny is trying to conduct them, but it doesn't really work. Some of the kids are more interested in waving at their parents and looking over at them. Bruce turns his trumpet upside down, and sticks his face into it and Amanda bangs her cymbals together right in front of one of the other kids face.

The parents are now on stage. Eric jumps off the bench and runs to the front of the stage to sing the first line. The other kids join in and start dancing. The choreography has a similar concept to the original. For this number, some of the kids are siblings and most of them match their parents' style. Among the parents, there are one lesbian couple, one gay couple and a single mom.

The cupcake, the bunny and a magician bring out trays with cotton candy and each of the kids grab one. They are incorporated into the choreography and the kids dance while holding on to them for quite some time. Nigel smashes his into the face of the cupcake.

The kids swarm the bunny and Lavender climbs up on his shoulders. The kids tug at him and he stumbles and falls to his knees, Lavender gets off. In this version, Hortensia is the ballerina. Her mum is holding her leg, trying to make her do an arabesque while her dad is taking a photo.

Hospital scene

There are three screens, some nurses and the doctor. Mrs Wormwood sticks her head out from behind the curtain in the middle screen. When she talks about Rudolpho, she says: “I've got a real ace in my fishnet stockings”

The nurses are overly happy and excited, standing in the background with huge smiles and nodding. The doctor is very enthusiastic in this version too... When Mrs W says: “Am I...am I?” He nods happily and beams from ear to ear. When Mrs Wormwood asks if there's something the doctor can do, she grabs his arm,gets really close and up in his face. Another nurse enters with a wheelchair and gives Mrs Wormwood a mask with laughing gas. She wheels her in behind the screen. The other screens turn and reveal two couples with their newborn babies, looking happy. They start dancing while holding the babies. Mrs Wormwood, still behind the screen, actually pushes the nurse, who stumbles back several feet and looks horrified.

Mrs Wormwood is wheeled out from behind the screen, holding baby Matilda uncomfortably.

Mr Wormwood and Michael enter. Michael is awkwardly walking around in the background, looking at the other two couples babies. Two nurses are taking pictures of the parents and their babies. Michael tries to photobomb one of the couples and the nurse and the parents try to stop him.The nurse hands Michael baby Matilda and he carries her around while Mr Wormwood is talking to the doctor. Michael actually looks proud and happy while holding her. Mr Wormwood approaches one of the couples, trying to hand them money and gestures for them to swap their baby for his. They look scared and hurries off stage.

Mr Wormwood has a lot of different names for penis, about five of them. Instead of saying: “A boy with no thingie” He says: “A little boy without a little man” “I can't find his frank and beans” is “Can't find his package”

Mrs Wormwood sits in her wheelchair with an uncomfortable male nurse sitting next to her. He starts dancing with her, spinning the wheelchair around. They added the “Why do bad things happen to good people...” part from the Stratford production. The doctor tries to hand baby Matilda to the Wormwoods, but no one wants to take her. Eventually Mr Wormwood takes her and the Wormwoods leave the stage.

The 'curtain' opens and all the parents, kids and babies appear. The parents have strollers, except for the single mom, who has her expensive brand purse. The kids are jealous of their new siblings and make faces at them. Hortensia tugs at her sibling's legs and tries to tear the baby away from her parents.They try to get their parents attention, but the parents are occupied. The doctor lifts Lavender and twirls her around, at first she looks happy. The doctor puts her down and smiles his characteristic passionate smile. Lavender makes a face, like she's wondering who this weird man is. Everyone leaves and the Wormwoods enter with their couch and TV. There's no big entrance for Matilda, she enters shortly afterwards, carrying her book clutched to her chest. She sings her part as she enters and stands next to the couch. As she enters, Mrs Wormwood (who enters pushing in the TV) shoves her away roughly. The line: “My daddy says I'm a bore” is translated to “Daddy says I lack a penis” When she has finished singing, she sits down to read.

Family scene 1

They have a huge screen as the TV. Mr Wormwood is on the phone while Mrs Wormwood and Michael are eating take away food. Instead of saying: This is all your fault, Mr Wormwood points at Matilda and says: That is your fault.

Mrs W  is talking with her mouth full and holds out her take away box and points her utensils at Mr Wormwood when she says: Dinners don't microwave themselves. When Mrs Wormwood says that she must be the worlds greatest acrobat, she falls over the back of the couch, spilling her food.

Naughty

A large set piece, looking like a closed book (standing up) comes forward. Mr W opens the book, revealing Matilda’s bedroom. It's kind of like a pop-up book, where the furniture pops out of the pages. The room has a loft bed, a bookshelf and a desk with a chair. There are drawings on the walls, depicting scenes from the acrobat stories.

Mr W takes the book from Matilda, spits in it, and mocks her, saying “bookworm, bookworm...”. Matilda climbs up the ladder to her bed, takes another book from her shelf, and starts singing. During the song, she turns a page in the book set, and steps out into the corridor. She sneaks past some doors, and turns yet another page, and enters the bathroom. This room has a sink (with a mirror and a shelves) and a toilet, which also pops out of the pages. When Matilda has picked up the bottles, Mrs W enters, wearing a nightgown and a sleeping mask. She turns on the lights, and Matilda quickly hides under the sink. Mrs W uses the toilet and then leaves the room and turns the light off, she appears to be almost sleepwalking...... Matilda finishes the song with the Matilda pose, mid stage. She then runs to the edge of the stage, grabs a book, and starts reading. She looks out into the audience, smirks and makes a shushing sign (which she will do now and then during the next scene...)

Mr W and Michael enter the bathroom, wearing matching pyjamas. While Mr W is applying his hair tonic, he suddenly appears to be in pain. (Michael repeats Mr W's words and movements) He says “it's not supposed to sting like this” and yells at Michael to give him a towel. Michael picks up the bottle instead, and repeatedly tries to give it to his father. Mr W eventually gets the towel. Mrs W enters, exclaiming “good morning”, to which Wr W responds by singing “good morning, good morning” (in Swedish). The scene plays out similar to the original. Matilda suggests that her father should pretend he's the Hulk, instead of an elf. Mr W and Michael leave Matilda and Mrs W alone, and the book set piece moves out. Matilda and her mom laugh together about Mr W's hair and Matilda looks so hopeful when asking if she wants to hear a story.

Library 1/Story 1

Matilda stands alone center stage. Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey enter together, pulling a book cart. The are talking amongst themselves, and seem very affectionate. They touch the other persons arm/shoulder while they talk. Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey seem to have a very special and deep relationship. Mrs Phelps calls her Jenny...but stops herself and calls her Miss Honey in front of Matilda. Miss Honey walks off to look for a book, climbing up on the book wagon to reach the books. Mrs Phelps notices Matilda, greets her and they hug before sitting down on one of the benches. Their conversation is slightly longer...Matilda adds: “Like, quality time” after her line. After Mrs Phelps says “Good Luck with Tolstoj” she turns to Matilda, explaining, he's a russian author. When Miss Honey leaves the stage, Matilda gets on her feet and runs over to the side of the stage, looking in the direction she left. After the line: “...my teacher” Mrs Phelps smiles and says: “You look happy” Mrs Phelps encourages Matilda to tell her a story by holding her hands and whispering: “Once upon a time...” Matilda repeats the phrase twice before actually starting to tell the story.

When Matilda starts telling the story, the “curtain” opens slightly, and the circus performers appear. The acrobat is up in her aerial silks, doing tricks. Matilda moves around more while telling the story, standing on top of the benches and climbing up on the book cart. Matilda illustrates the name of the trick with her body, doing gestures like crossing her arms in front of her in a hugging motion, when she says “locked in a cage...”  She does this every time she repeats that line. When Matilda says: “slipping her hand into his...”, she takes Mrs Phelps' hand and squeezes it gently with both her hands.

Projections are used a lot for the stories, at one point the acrobat and the escapologists house is projected on the backdrop, it feels like it’s coming straight at the audience.

School song

The “curtain” rises and the school gate is lowered halfway down. The older kids are standing on stage, looking creepy. They're chewing gum, glaring, smoking and twirling their hair around their fingers.There are two 'leaders' of the gang of older kids, one female and one male. They are usually the ones that terrorizes the kids the most and leads the others. They work together a lot too. (The adult ensemble is larger in this production, there are about 15 big kids.) The small kids enter from the stairs/aisles, looking scared. The scene plays out similar up until “why?!” The kids huddle together in the middle of the stage and Matilda joins them. Some of the older kids bring out big books with letters on them that are used for the spelling part. They toss them to each other and pushes some of the books roughly at a few of the kids.  The choreography in this number is fantastic. We thought it would be really hard to do something that would come close to the original, because it's so clever and creative. It's hard to describe choreography, but it's really advanced and physical and it looks really good with a lot of people.

This must have been a challenge to translate, since the Swedish language has three more letters. Some things had to be adapted and changed to work rhythmically, but it works really well. At one point, the older kids grab the small kids by their backpacks and pull them towards the gate. Towards the end of the song, two long school benches are pushed onto the stage. The kids are pushed down on them and the benches are spun around by some of the big kids. The other big kids are also sitting on the benches.The chalkboard and Miss Honey appears and the older kids leave.

Classroom scene 1

The kids are sitting on two benches, one in front of the other. They're still looking very scared. But Miss Honey is happy and welcoming. She writes her name on the board. The counting sequence isn't that different from the original. Miss Honey writes I can now read words on the board and the kids excitedly raise their hands. Nigel gets up on the bench in front of the board, where miss Honey usually stands. He looks at the board, turns around and looks at his classmates, confused and scared. Then he turns back to the board and gets into position. Nigel can actually read a few letters. (Mostly consonants, for some reason) He starts off with the first letter and Miss Honey nods  and smiles to encourage him. He then jumps to the next consonant and goes back and forth a few times, adding another letter every time, going faster and faster. He moves along the board pointing to each letter he says. It's really hilarious. Miss Honey has to stop him, comfort him and lead him back to his seat. After Lavendel says “Yes!”, Miss Honey repeats what she said and makes a gesture.

Miss Honey looks very touched, as if she is about to cry, when Matilda starts listing all the books she has read. Some of the titles have been changed to Swedish books and books that are more known here. When the bell rings, the kids skip and jump out whilst talking among themselves.

Pathetic

Miss Honey starts out in the front of the stage, when she turns to walk out, she starts walking up the stairs/aisles. She sings the “this little girl” part still standing in the aisle. Then determinately walks back on stage. It's mostly similar to the original.

The hammer

Trunch is pushed in sitting her 'tennis judge' chair, with her hammer in hand. When Trunch says: “Thank you for suggesting it...” she turns in her chair so that her back is facing the audience. Miss Honey starts climbing up the ladder on the chair. Trunch then turns back violently and Miss Honey ducks and quickly climbs back down. Trunch climbs down from her chair and when she says: “So can I” she bangs her hammer on the floor. Miss Honey replies: “Ehh...yes....” patiently, like she is talking to a child. They walk up to the front of the stage and Trunch blows her whistle. The kids come running in. The big kids bring out a prize podium and a shelf with Trunch's trophies and balances it on the heads of some of the small kids. A couple of the small kids polish the trophies, which wobble as if they're about to fall. The kids have to jump and lift each other to reach the shelf. Trunch swings the hammer over her head and everyone follows the motion with their upper bodies to avoid getting hit. Trunch “throws” the hammer out into the audience. While it sails through the air, she says the: “no,no,no...”part. The hammer hits something that hangs from the ceiling and there's a loud crashing noise. Trunch exclaims: “Yes!” before saying a final no. The Trunch gets up on top of the podium and two of the big kids hang gold medals around her neck. One of them drops a medal on the ground and looks so terrified, as does his friend. Trunch glares at them both. After they have put all the medals around her neck they lift her off. When Trunch says: “Sing, children!” all kids run and stand on straight lines, singing the chorus. When Miss Honey joins in, she and the kids start marching on the spot. Trunch climbs up on her chair again, and says: “get out!” Everyone leaves the stage and Miss Honey walks out to one of the aisles and says her line and exits through the stairs.

Family scene 2

Mr W mocks Matilda, again, by repeating her line about the book. When he rips the pages out of the book, he scrunches them into balls and throws them at Matilda. He also puts some in his mouth. He jumps on the book multiple times, jumping on one leg, posing for a while and then starting again. Finally he throws himself on the floor, on top of the book. Mrs W and Michael clap their hands. The three of them leave the stage and Matilda goes to get the superglue from the bookshelf at the back of the stage. While applying the glue, she notices Mr W's cap laying on the floor, and a smirk spreads on her face. Mr W enters, looking for his cap. He turns the cushion in the armchair. When he puts on the cap, you hear a squishing sound. You can actually hear that the cap is full of glue.  

Playground scene

All the kids enter. The big kids are bullying the younger kids, making them carry their jackets and polish their shoes. Lavender approaches Matilda. she lifts Matilda’s hair, like she's checking to see if her brains are coming out of her ears. Nigel enters from the back, screaming. He squeezes himself between Matilda and Lavender, crouching. Instead of saying her knickers stayed stuck to the seat” he says “there was a hole in her underpants”. Two of the big kids walk over. One of the big kids grab Nigel by the hair and pretends to swing him around like a hammer. When the chokey chant starts, Lavender takes Matilda's hand, and they run to the bench, where the other small kids are hiding. Matilda and Lavender huddle close together on the bench. When the chant is over, Matilda runs over to Nigel to comfort him. Only the small kids take off their jackets and cover Nigel, they then stand in a circle around him. Nigel says “please don't tell her I'm here”. The big kids (and Amanda who starts running towards Nigel, but doesn't make it and has to run back) stand further back. Trunch enters, wearing a map wrapped around her waist, holding it with one hand. The small kids get scared and run for cover under the bench. Nigel stands up and bows when he spots Trunch. After the Nigel sequence, Trunch turns around to walk away. Two of the big kids are whispering something and points to Amanda. They push Amanda forward, laughing. Trunch spots her, and yells. She walks over to Amanda, and grabs her. Amanda pushes Trunch, escapes and run for cover behind the big kids. Trunch pulls her back and grabs her by the pigtails (Amanda is now a doll). She spins her around and throws her into the wings. Some of the big kids run up one of the aisles to catch Amanda, and two of the boys carry her back on stage on their shoulders. Everyone chants Amanda! Amanda!. When Trunch turns to leave, you can see her hairy butt through the large hole in her skirt and underpants. Lavender throws her arms around Matilda and they hug as she says her line. All the kids leave the stage laughing.

Phonecall scene

After Mr Wormwoods phonecall with Sergei, the mechanic does a thing where he takes off his cap, twists it and puts it back on. Mr W tries to do the same, but obviously, he can't. After trying multiple times to get the cap off, the mechanic tries to help him. When that doesn't work, the mechanic puts his knee against Mr W's back and Mr W braces himself against him as he tries to get the cap off.

Loud

Miss Honey walks down the aisle and up the stairs and knocks at the Wormwoods door. Mrs W and Rudolpho are on the couch. Mrs W is on top of Rudolpho, stretching his leg. Mrs W calls Miss Honey a couple of different names, including Miss Horny.  After Mrs W says: “You choose books, I choose looks” she adds: “You're sinking, and I'm floating...On top...” Rudolpho says “calculate this!” and does a back handspring into the splits. During Miss Honey's and Mrs Wormwoods conversation, Rudolpho is going all out in the background. Even more than in the original. He has the whole audience laughing out loud at what he is doing.

Mrs W is wearing her nightgown on top of her ballroom dress. The first time she says loud, she dramatically pulls the gown off. She throws the gown at Miss Honey, who stumbles back into the armchair. Mrs W and Rudolpho start dancing with Miss Honey much earlier. Rudolpho also dances alone with Miss Honey, making her very uncomfortable. Her body language and facial expressions here are fantastic. During their dance, Miss Honey repeatedly points towards the direction she came from, as if she's trying to leave.

When the competition part starts, the curtain rises and the orchestra is visible. There are four couples and some judges. Mrs W and Rudolpho dance in the middle, with the other couples surrounding them. Miss Honey lingers in the back. Towards the end, Miss Honey comes forward and claps her hands, showing with her body language that she wants to continue with their conversation. Mrs W and Rudolpho pulls her into the dance again. The four couples leave the stage, dancing. Mrs W and Rudolpho end the number, leaning against the railing in front of the orchestra.

This little girl

Miss Honey doesn't fall to the floor at the end of Loud. Otherwise, it kind of plays out the same way. This little girl is translated to My little girl, which makes it even more touching. That she already thinks of Matilda as hers. During the last part of the song, Matilda enters and stands in the background looking at Miss Honey.

Library 2/Story 2

Mrs Phelps and Matilda share a moment while Miss Honey leaves. When Matilda talks about the acrobats sister, a silhouette of Trunch is seen on the backdrop. When the escapologist speaks, both he and Matilda do the gestures. When she says: “The audience jumped to their feet....” Matilda takes Mrs Phelps' hands and pulls her up and they spin around. She skips around the stage, clapping her hands and Mrs Phelps joins her. At some performances, they got the audience to start clapping too. When Mrs Phelps has said: “So the story does have a happy ending..” , Matilda sits with her head down, looking sad. When she mentions the trick she doesn't do the gestures, instead she backs up. Because it's Trunch that says the line along with her, she looks angrier and tries to mimic Trunch's intimidating posture. When she screams: “Off to prison you both shall go” she half turns and points aggressively to the wings, the same direction as Mrs Phelps is in.

Bruce

Mrs Phelps exits and all the kids run in. The scene doesn't take place in the classroom, it's in the playground. The big kids continue to bully the smaller ones, in the same way as described earlier. Miss Honey enters and approaches Matilda, who's standing on her own, reading. Matilda looks so happy after Miss Honey has talked to her about the books. With a smile on her face, she throws her arms around Miss Honey. Miss Honey looks really happy too and laughs affectionately. When she says: “You're going to hug all the air out of me...” she talks as if she's squeezed so hard that she actually has trouble breathing because of it. They hug each other for a while, smiling, until Trunch enters and yells at Matilda. Matilda says “I'm here...” and Trunch storms towards her. Miss Honey is being very protective of Matilda, and stands in front of her, trying to cover her with her body. When Miss Honey says that Matilda has been here all morning, Trunch mocks her by imitating her tone and voice. Meanwhile, all the kids stand on each side of the stage, in front of  the benches. While Trunch is yelling at Matilda, Bruce is fidgeting and you can see that he is troubled by what's happening. While Bruce says his monologue, Trunch moves so she's standing in between the benches. When the burp has landed on Trunch, she jumps forward and lands on one knee. The kids scream, looking terrified. The cook enters, rolling a cart with the cake on. Trunch goes to sit in her chair, and the cook sits on the steps of the chair.

The kids start out dancing on the benches, but most of the dancing is done on the ground. The big kids are in this routine too (they join in after a while), a couple of them dance on the benches during the majority of the number. When Bruce has finished the cake, all the kids cheer and celebrate. The big kids lift him up and throw him up in the air. Miss Honey bounces and jumps excitedly towards the end, when she sees that Bruce is going to make it. She screams in a really high pitch.Trunch has stepped down from her chair and is now standing near Miss Honey. Miss Honey celebrates and 'boxes' in the air and she 'happens to hit Trunch in the chest. Both of their facial expressions are hilarious. Trunch looks outraged and Miss Honey looks scared, but also kind of proud and amused.

When Trunch mentions the chokey, her chair is wheeled forward and opened at the side. Inside there's a chokey with spikes in the roof. The cook lifts Bruce and puts him in the chokey, while Bruce says: “I ate the whole cake, I did. Didn't I?” He screams and his screams weakens as the chair with the chokey is wheeled off the stage. Matilda climbs up on one of the benches and screams: “That's not right!”

Act 2

Telly

Before Telly, the orchestra plays an instrumental version of Loud. The orchestra is turned towards the audience, they react to what's going on on stage. Mr Wormwood enters and asks the conductor to get the orchestra to stop playing. They eventually stop and he starts his monologue. He picks someone from the audience and actually runs up the stairs to ask for their name. He says: “Say hello to... everybody” and everyone says hello. Then he proceeds to tease the person in question..   He says the line about evolving from unicorns in an Elvis like voice and gets into an Elvis pose. He has to start over about three times, because he is waiting for Michael to bring in the TV. When Michael enters, pushing the TV, Mrs Wormwood follows him. They stand on each side of the TV, bouncing along to the music. Before the ukulele part Mr Wormwood says: “Film this, this is amazing” Michael looks so proud of himself. Some of the authors that Mr W names has been changed to either Scandinavian authors or authors who's names rhymes on Swedish words. Roald Dahl is one of the authors. It's hard to explain the pun in English though.. During the last refrain, Michael and Mrs Wormwood walk along the edge of the stage, motioning for the audience to shout Telly.

During the matinee performance there was a lot of children in the audience. When he told the audience to not read books, the kids started booing so much that he whole audience joined in. They also booed  when he was teasing the audience member and during the line about how telly is more important than books. He laughed and was a bit taken back by that reaction, and forgot some of the words because of that. He had to read the words off the monitor.

Lavenders monologue

Lavender suddenly appears in one of the aisles, shouting: “Hiiii....”  She walks down the stairs towards the stage. She walks across the stage and into another aisle.When she talks about the newt, she takes out a pencil case from her backpack, opens it, and holds up the newt.  At the end, she jumps up and down and runs out. All three girls do the monologue slightly different. For example, Ella mutters: “What's wrong with me today?” under her breath. They are all spunky and very expressive.

When I grow up

Bruce crawls out from underneath one of 'upturned' books, he sings his part. Meanwhile, Tommy joins him, also crawling out. Tommy picks up a bottle of soap bubbles and starts blowing. Bruce looks very sad, but when he sees the bubbles, he starts to smile a little. He reaches with his hand, as if to catch a bubble. Tommy hands the bottle to Bruce, and they smile at each other. Bruce then proceeds to blow bubbles. Some of the other kids (both small and big) run in and climb up the books. Eric and Hortensia sing the second part.

One of the big kids climbs on top of Bruce’s and Tommy’s book and blows bubbles down on them. Bigger bubbles start falling from the ceiling. Some of the kids sit beneath the books, others on top of them and some are standing on the back side, leaning their arms and heads on/over them. Some of the small kids use the books as a slide.

A couple of the small kids run towards two big kids each and balance on their arms, reaching their arms up to grab the bubbles. The other kids reach their arms up after the bubbles, too.

The kids run to the back, but leave a bottle of soap bubbles on the ground. Miss Honey enters, stops to look at it and picks it up. She starts blowing bubbles before singing her part. Matilda enters about the same time, sits down underneath one of the books, and leans against it whilst reading a book and singing her part. Everyone but Matilda leaves...

Library 3/Story 3

Mrs Phelps enters and asks Matilda how she is doing. When Matilda says: “Not a child actually...” It seems like Mrs Phelps suspects something, because she says: “Matilda...what do you mean?” and is about to say something more, but Matilda interrupts and distracts her by asking if she wants to hear the story. Mrs Phelps gets really excited and she and Matilda 'poses' in the same way a couple of times as the intro music is played. As Matilda starts telling the story, the acrobat and the escapologist appear behind her. The acrobat wraps chains around the escapologist. Projections of a cage and flames appear, surrounding them. The acrobat rises up in the air. The scene really plays out before the audiences eyes. Foam from the fire extinguisher is seen near the acrobat. It's really beautiful, it almost looks like an extension of her costume. Their hands touch, and then she falls. Soon after, the acrobat is laying in the escapologists arms. (During this scene it's an ensemble member who plays the acrobat while she's in the air.) The sound effects are really good here, you can hear the sound of chains rattling and the door to the cage being opened. When Matilda says “the meanest, cruelest, horriblest aunt you can possibly imagine” she walks over to Mrs Phelps, who's sitting on her book cart, taking one step on every beat. She screams the last part in Mrs Phelps face, leaning over the edge of the cart. After Matilda has said “It's just a story...” Mrs Phelps says: “Yes, just a story. A story...that's something we need to remember. Both you and me...”

After Matilda finishes her story, Mrs Phelps takes out a box of cookies from her cart and offers one to Matilda. Matilda sits at the cart, eating her cookie.

Family scene 3/Story 4

The Wormwoods enter with their couch. They all sit down on the couch, Michael listens to music and Mrs W is sharpening her nails. Matilda tries to sit down on the couch next to her mother, but she kicks her away. When Mr W says that he wants his whole family gathered, Matilda happily comes forward and tries to sit down in her mothers lap. Mr W says: “Not you, boy...” and Mrs W pushes her away. Instead, Matilda tries to sit on the armrest of the couch, but once again gets pushed off by Mrs W. Matilda sadly stands next to the couch as Mr W talks. He asks “how do you fix the mileage on the cars?” and looks at Mrs W like he is expecting an answer. Mrs W thinks hard about it for a while. Her face looks blank and she looks really confused. Mr W turns to Michael, puts his arm around Michael's shoulder and explains what he did and how it works. When Mr W opens the bag to reveal the money, he starts throwing money into the air and Mrs W joins him, screaming with joy.  

Mrs W and Michael leave the stage as Mr W forcefully drags Matilda to her room, opens the door and throws her in. Matilda climbs up to her bed and wraps her bedspread around herself, then continues telling the story. She throws down her bedspread when she says the “threw her in a cellar “ line. She climbs down from her bed and continues the story. The escapologist enters dressed in his performance costume. He takes her in his arms and the scene plays out similar to the original for a while.  He gives her the scarf and when she continues with the story she's wearing the scarf.The escapologist doesn't carry Matilda to bed though. Instead she goes to get her bedspread, lays down with her head in his lap, and he tucks her in with the bedspread.  The escapologist throws his cape and runs out after saying his last words. At the same time, a huge silhouette of the Trunch, with her arms outstretched as if to grab the escapologist, appears on the curtain. Again, the projection moves, so it's like she's following the escapologist. When Matilda sadly says: “Because he never came home, ever again”, Miss Honey walks in at the back of stage, carrying two books for Matilda.

Phys Ed

Miss Honey hurries towards Matilda, looking happy and excited. Before she has the chance to give Matilda the books, Miss Trunchbull storms in. Miss Honey puts herself in front of Matilda to protect her. One of the older school girl runs in with a shredder around her neck. Trunch rips the books from Miss Honey's hands and shoves one of them into the shredder. Trunch's chair is in the background and one of the older boys lifts Bruce out of the chokey. Bruce walks over to Trunch, looking very broken down. Trunch gives him the other book and makes him put it into the shredder. Matilda grabs Bruce's hand and they run out together. The girl carrying the shredder runs out in the same direction. Miss Honey sits down and starts picking up the pieces of paper that are left after the books were shredded, then she stands up, holding the pieces to her chest. It's a beautiful parallel to when Matilda picks up the pages of the book earlier.

Trunch blows the whistle, and all the kids(both small and big) except for Matilda and Bruce run in. Lavender runs down the stage and down the aisle to get the jug.

The kids stand on straight lines and start off with stretching. Trunch is in the front showing them what to do. They also do some material arts like moves.Trunch then proceeds to walk around among the children, sniffing at the kids. For example, she sniffs Nigel's arm pits. Bruce comes running in, really out of breath, and takes Lavenders spot. He is panting loudly, Trunch yells: “quiet!” and he closes his mouth, trying to hold his breaths in. Trunch takes out her hair ties and shakes out her hair, so it's in a ponytail. She hands the hair ties to an audience member and tells the person to hold them for her. Around this time Miss Honey leaves the stage.

Trunch continues walking around, lifting and flipping some of the small kids around. She also shoulder presses Bruce. Afterwards, the kids practise boxing in pairs of two, usually one big kid and one small kid. Trunch goes to stand on her podium in the middle and the kids move on to different stations. For example, step ups at the benches and climbing over the 'upturned' books (from When I grow up) army training style. It's circle training, so they rotate between the stations. Some of the big kids are lifting two of the small kids up in the air.This is where Matilda enters (she's not wearing phys ed clothes though, she's wearing her school uniform, but without the jacket.) When the slow part starts roman rings are lowered from the ceiling. Trunch grabs the ropes and positions herself in the rings as they rise up. The students are now laying on the floor and leaning over the 'upturned' books, completely exhausted. Trunch starts doing tricks in the rings, including a full split. After Eric has said his line, Trunch (who is now down on the ground) start running after Eric. The students hurry to stand up, straight in the back, when Trunch comes running. The students run into position and continue with martial arts like movies, but even faster this time. By the end, all of the students are shaking really badly. They slowly fall to the ground, one by one.

Miss Honey enters and sees all the kids laying on the floor, completely out of it. She walks around the room, kneels close to the kids, patting them gently and trying to support them and make sure that they are alright. Lavender appears from the aisle with the jug and the newt in her hands. She holds out the newt and dangles it in front of an audience member, saying: “Look, it's the newt. I've got the newt..” She puts the newt in the jug before she hands it to Trunch, who puts it on the podium. Lavender then sneaks past the audience members on the  front row next to where she stands. She stands on the floor, watching everything play out from there.

The small kids tease Trunch more when she's panicking about the newt. They take turns to say things like:  “It's a snake!” “Watch out, headmistress Agatha!” “It bites!“I bet it's poisonous!” Miss Honey worriedly tells the kids to be quiet. When Matilda screams “You big fat bully” , Miss Honey is nearby, trying to protect Matilda. The other kids run and hide underneath the benches.

Quiet

The whole number is performed standing up. During the first part of the song, she is covering her ears the whole time. It's mostly Trunch that moves around in the background. Miss Honey moves around a bit, to check on the kids, who's hiding underneath the benches during the whole number.

There is a nice nod to Pippi Longstocking in the translation. (Pippi Longstocking is a famous character from a book series by Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. Like Matilda, Pippi is a little girl who takes control of her own destiny.) Pippi always sleeps with her feet on her pillow. So instead of singing: “Like the sound when you lie upside down in your bed.” she sings: ”Laying in bed, like Pippi, with your feet up”

When she sings “people around me” she walks over to the podium and reaches her hand towards the jug of water (as if she is thinking of using it) She walks back to the the spot she came from and finishes the song. The lightning in this number is gorgeous.

She turns towards the podium and focuses on the jug. The kids start to look up and crawl out from underneath the benches when they see that is something is about to happen. The newt lands on Trunch's chest. Trunch runs around, waving her arms and eventually stops next to Miss Honey. Trunch starts pointing and gesturing towards Miss Honey to do something, but she just looks at her, confused. The Trunch runs out and everyone laughs, even Miss Honey. Miss Honey tells everyone that it is best to leave and they run out whilst laughing and mocking Trunch by repeating her words and gestures. Matilda makes the mug tip again. Two of the big kids run past Matilda and Miss Honey, still laughing at Trunch. They take out the podium and jug of water. One of them drops Matilda's jacket on the floor. She picks it up and puts it on before walking away with Miss Honey. In the background, Miss Honeys house is being pushed forward, while Matilda and Miss Honey talk about Matilda's family.

My House

Matilda and Miss Honey open the closed book and it folds up like a pop up book. Matilda and Miss Honey talk and Miss Honey makes tea (not real tea) during their conversation. She then comes back and sits next to Matilda, on the edge of the book. Instead of singing: “On this floor I can stand on my own two feet” she sings: “And a floor, you can stand and dance upon” As she sings dance, she slides back with her legs in front of her, with a smile on her face. Matilda looks at her and a smile appears on her face too. Matilda goes to sit down on the bed while Miss Honey continues to sing. When Miss Honey sings about dreaming, she walks over to the bed and tosses her pillow to Matilda, who holds it against her chest. Miss Honey then sits down on the bed, next to Matilda. The song title is translated to “My own house” and that little extra word has a lot of impact. It's her own house, something that is just hers and that she and only she controls. It's something that the Trunch can't take away from her. The escapologist appears and walks across the stage, behind the opened book. He then stands to the side and never enters the house or approaches Miss Honey. When the Escapologist leaves, he tips his hat towards Miss Honey, as if to say goodbye to her. Matilda finds the scarf (which was hidden under Miss Honey's pillow) in the bed and asks Miss Honey about it. Matilda grabs Miss Honey's hand and drags her out of the house, but Miss Honey pulls away. She turns around, shaking her head, covering her face with her hands.

After Matilda shouts: “Miss Thunchbull!” the book gets pushed out and is replaced by the school benches. While the scene changes, Matilda hands Miss Honey the scarf and they have a sweet moment where Matilda makes sure Miss Honey is ok. Miss Honey puts the scarf around her neck, and she and Matilda join the other small kids, who are now sitting on the benches. Meanwhile, the chalkboard comes forward, with the Trunch standing on the bench in front of it. One of the kids hands Miss Honey a book, and she opens it and start to read to them. The kids all huddle close, pointing and gesturing, and everyone looks happy. It’s a really lovely moment. No one takes notice of Trunch, who's lurking in the back. When she starts talking, all the kids rush to their places, standing with their heads down. When Trunch asks Miss Honey what she's looking at, she replies: “You Agatha”

Spelling test and Revolting Children

Trunch takes out a bunch of papers with the spelling test on, places one bunch on each bench and the kids pass them on. Miss Honey is getting really angry when Trunch accuses Hortensia of cheating. When it's Lavenders turn to spell, Trunch lifts her up and she splashes like a fish. One by one, the kids stand up on the benches and start spelling. They yell: “Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!” in unison. Trunch puts on large earmuffs and takes out a large controller for the chokey. The chokey has a high screeching sound that makes everyone cover their ears. Miss Honey tries to protect the kids and get them to hide. Once they are hidden, she reaches out her hand towards Matilda and beckons for her to join the others. But Matilda doesn't notice what Miss Honey is doing. She stares intently at the board and the chalk start moving. The other kids come out of hiding. They lean over the front bench, reading out loud. Miss Honey stands to the side, she notices quite quickly that it's Matilda who controls the chalk. Emma starts hitting the bench and screams: “Run!” The kids stand up on the benches as they shout “Run!” Miss Honey starts shouting too.

The Bruces have different types of voices. Milton has a really strong voice and belt, Max has more of a souly voice with vibrato, Joel has a more poppy kind of voice.

Bruce tears the test apart when he sings “never again”.  He looks around at the other kids, and gestures for them to join. They tear their tests apart when they sing “never again” . On the last “never again” they crumple the tests to balls and throw them into the audience. Matilda and Miss Honey remain on stage for Revolting Children. Matilda sings and dances with her classmates and Miss Honey remains in the back, looking happy and proud. The big kids start filling in and Miss Honey talks to them and gestures for them to join the smaller kids. They join in, a couple at a time. Some of the big kids pushes the benches to the side. Bruce sings: “She can take her hammer and shove it up her ass” At the end, he covers his mouth with his hand, looking like he can't believe he said that... Miss Honey cheers them on and during R-E-V-O-L-T-I-N-G she claps along. After that she runs to join them and the kids creates a space for her in the middle. She looks so cute and happy when she dances with them. At the end, crumbled spelling tests fall from the ceiling into the midsection of the auditorium.

Ending scene

Mrs Phelps enters and as she starts talking, a letter slowly falls from the ceiling and lands near Miss Honey. She looks surprised as she picks it up and reads it. Matilda sits on a bench and reads. Matilda looks up from her book to say the line: “And a new headmistress took over” After Mrs Phelps has said the line about it being the best school in the entire country, Miss Honey smiles/giggles and waves the compliment away... Miss Honey walks over to Matilda when she says that Matilda can no longer move things with her eyes. She hands her a book and takes the one Matilda was previously reading. It's a nice touch...That Matilda finally gets to read the clever books that Miss Honey wanted to bring her. Miss Honey walks back to he middle of the stage as she talks about Matilda. Mrs Phelps puts her hand on Miss Honeys shoulder as if to comfort her, when she says that perhaps all stories doesn't have happy endings...

The Wormwoods and Rudolpho run in from the side. Mr W is wearing a bast skirt over his suit, Michael has a huge swimming ring (in the shape of a duck) around his waist and wears a sombrero. Mrs W wears a hat and a flamenco inspired dress and Rudolpho is dressed as a matador with a mask. Mr Wormwood grabs Matilda and starts to drag her away. Mrs Phelps cries out: “Matilda!” She sounds really heartbroken about them taking Matilda away. Miss Honey runs after them while saying her line. Matilda lightens up for a moment. The russians appear (there are more of them), entering from the aisles. Sergei has a cane and the others carry different weapons. Some remain in the aisles, glaring at the audience and showing off their weapons. The Wormwoods hide behind the benches and bookcases. Rudolpho slides under the bench, doubled over. Again, Miss Honey is very protective of Matilda. She tries to shield her from the russians and puts her arm protectively around Matilda. When Matilda is talking to Sergei, Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey stand close together, watching Matilda intently. Matilda turns in Mr Wormwoods direction when she says: “ And very, very stupid”. After Sergei says: “backwards”, Michael jumps out from his hiding place shouting: “ backwards dad!” with a huge smile on his face. Mr W gestures for him to go back, and tells him to be quiet. The russians seem to have some extra lines and interact more with each other in this version. Their russian sounds really good, especially Sergei, it sounds so natural. The russians push and shove Mr Wormwood, blow smoke into his face and forcefully grab the bag of money from his hands before leaving.

Mrs W, Rudolpho and Michael run out. Mr W stops and calls: “What are we gonna do with my daughter?” Matilda runs towards Mr W and almost gives him a hug. Mr W looks a bit uncomfortable and Matilda changes her mind and carefully shakes his hand instead. She shakes his hand and kind of squeezes it. It's hard to explain... But when she squeezes his hand, she makes the magic stop. You can tell by the look on Mr W's face that he can feel it. He takes off his cap and puts it on Matildas head before leaving.Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey are now hugging and looking happy. Miss Honey says: “And Matilda leapt into Jenny's arms” Rudolpho runs in, jumps up on the bench, poses, says his line, jumps down in a split jump and runs off again. Mrs Phelps is now standing next to Matilda. Miss Honey says: “Because they had found each other” Mrs Phelps nods and says: “Yes, they had” before Matilda says her line. Both Miss Honey and Mrs Phelps put their arms around Matilda and the three of them walk off together.

Bows:

The big kids run in first, then the acrobat and escapologist in their performance costumes and then the small kids. Rudolpho, Michael and Sergei enter together, Michael remains midstage as the Wormwoods enter. They shove him away before taking their bows. Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey enter, holding hands. All the kids walk in, standing in a V formation. The rest of the cast stand on the sides. The back curtain opens and Trunch enters, carrying her hammer. Matilda enters from the back and takes her bow. Everyone does the end of the Naughty choreography. Trunch walks past and everyone ends in the Matilda pose. The music changes into Revolting Children and the whole ensemble claps and get the audience going. The kids (small and big) do the last chorus of Revolting Children while the other cast members clap along. The back curtain opens all the way, and the orchestra in turned around to face the audience. It ends with all the kids throwing their jackets in the air and the whole ensemble doing a pose of their choice.

Cast list

Matilda:  Anna Heerulff Christiansen, Matilda Gross, Eva Jumatate

Bruce: Milton Felländer, Max Liljedahl, Joel Yebio

Lavender: Thia Skogmar, Ella Strandberg, Tova Toresson

Amanda: Emilia Helm, Alice Jönsson

Nigel: Oliver Palm, Gustav Sonesson

Eric: André Persson Gintner. Melker Wickenberg

Hortensia: Sonja Holm, Molly Johansson

Tommy: Wilmer Franzén, Leon Mentori

Alice: Siri Amundsen, Lisa Birk Pohl

Emma: Miranda Boulton, Wilma Persson

Miss Honey: Linda Olsson

Miss Trunchbull: David Lundqvist

Mrs Phelps: Marianne Mörck

Mrs Wormwood: Åsa Fång

Mr Wormwood: Michael Jansson

Michael Wormwood: Jeff Schjerlund

Rudolpho: Oscar Pierrou Lindén

Escapologist/Entertainer: Denny Lekström

Acrobat: Hanna Carlbrand

Doctor/Sergei: Jonas Schlyter

Adult ensemble: Davio Di, Emmie Asplund, Henric Flodin,Karin Mårtensson, Kitty Chan,Leila Jung, Marcus Elander, Tommy Englund, Emma Kumlien, Kerstin Hilldén, Lotte Ohlander, Nikola Stankovic, Oskar Kongshöj, Sara Lehmann.

Portrayals:

Matilda: The biggest difference between the Swedish Matildas and the RSC Matildas is that they are allowed to smile. Most of the time, they are serious, reserved and and doesn't smile, especially in the family scenes. But, when they spend time with Mrs Phelps, they smile and come out of their shell. Their movements are bigger and they seem more free. It's like the Matilda we see with Mrs Phelps is the person Matilda is deep down inside, and who she could be if she had loving, supporting parents. That makes it even sadder, in a way.  Matilda smiles at Miss Honey during the biggest hug in the world, and also occasionally during My House. When Miss Honey looks happy, Matilda smiles. Matilda seems happy when she is with Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey, you can really tell how much she loves them and that they mean a lot to her.

They're not as loud during the stories as in the RSC production.

All three girls are fantastic Matildas and they each have their own styles and their own portrayals. They're all very different from each other, which made every performance extra exciting to watch, because it was never similar to the previous one. We're not going to go through what each of them did in every scene, because that would be way too long. So this will be more of a summary of their respective portrayals and what kind of Matildas they are.

Anna: Anna is the oldest and the most experienced in acting of the Matildas, which is visible in her performance. Her Matilda is somber and a bit more quiet. Her performance is very nuanced, for example: When she tells the stories she is relaxed and carefree, but as soon as Mrs Phelps asks about her parents, her body language changes. She curls up, hunches forward and her voice gets sadder and lower. That being said, her more cheeky moments are fantastic, too. She has great facials during Naughty. Her facial expression when she shushes and smirks at the audience during the bathroom scene is amazing. Anna uses her hands a lot when she is acting, for example when she's talking to Miss Honey about Trunch and all the cruel things she did, she hits her fist against her hand for every thing she says. She is also very articulate, one reason for that is probably because she is Danish and she wants to make sure that everyone understands what she's saying. She speaks Swedish really well, but with quite a heavy accent. She is a strong and confident singer and it feels like the songs really suits her voice. You can hardly hear her accent when she is singing.

Eva: Eva is an really expressive Matilda, down to her fingertips. She uses her whole body in her performance, especially during the stories. Speaking of stories, hers are really intense. It seems like she enjoys getting strong reactions out of Mrs Phelps. Her Matilda seems like she loves having someone notice her and give her their full attention. She emphasises certain words throughout her performance, which has a lot of impact. She also does that while singing. Eva's voice has a very wide range, it's especially noticeable in Quiet. She starts off very low and uses her full range throughout the song.

Eva's Matilda isn't as scared by her parents and Miss Trunchbull as the others are. She mostly seem to think her parents are stupid, she's rolling her eyes at them and she talks to them very slowly. Eva also smirks when she thinks they're particularly stupid. She is the most angry of the Matildas too... The performance we saw was only Eva's second performance, so her portrayal might have changed a bit since then...

Matilda: Matilda is really perky and feisty and the one who smiles the most. She is the youngest of the Matildas and her Matilda appears younger than the others. There is an air of innocence around her... She seems like she doesn't understand that it's unusual that she reads. It comes as a surprise to her that it's not something that everyone her age does. When she realises that Miss Honey is in awe of her, she looks and sounds proud. She is louder in the stories than the other two girls, and her gestures are bigger. Her expression during the stories is huge, you can't take your eyes off of her.  She is tiny, but she strides forward with big steps and a look of determination on her face. Matilda has a higher pitch than the others and she sort of sings in a staccato manner.

All the girls are really strong dancers too. In this production, Matilda dances much more than in RSC's production. You can tell that the girls really enjoy being a part of that and dancing with all the others. All three of them are really good at speaking russian, it flows really well and sounds natural when they're speaking.

Matilda wears a grey linen dress with a white collar and folds at the front, grey socks and brown shoes. Her hair is let out and slightly curly.

Miss Honey: We may be slightly biased here, because Linda Olsson has been our dream Miss Honey for a couple of years now. She was even better than we had imagined. She has this light about her. Even though she is broken down and, she still finds little things to smile and laugh about. She is not less broken down, but she hides it more from her students. Also, she seems content and happy in her classroom with her beloved students and in the library with Mrs Phelps. It's similar to Matilda, she blossoms when she is doing what she loves, with the people that she loves. She is also trying to be strong for her students. As the story progresses, she slowly gets braver, and tries to stand up to the Trunch and protect them more and more. She often puts herself in between Trunch and the children, to shield them with her body. She has a very big and kind heart and you can really tell when she loves someone, she glows.. She is so supportive, patient and caring when it comes to all of her students. Somehow, despite what she has been through, she still tries to see the good in everyone. Perhaps she is a bit naive... sometimes, when talking to Trunch and Mrs W,  she laughs because she thinks they're not being serious. She is kind of funny too...

Her body language and facial expressions says so much. We haven't talked a lot about Pathethic and This little girl, because they're quite short and it's hard to describe all the little things that's going on. It's much easier describing the 'bigger' scenes... But she conveys everything Miss Honey feels so well in those numbers. It's the way she uses the tone of her voice, clenching of fists, dropping her shoulders... But also determinately straightening up...

A small little rebellious streak that she has from the beginning is that she never calls Trunch Headmistress, she calls her miss. And by the end, when Trunch asks: “What are you looking at?”, she simply says: “You, Agatha” That is really powerful, it's like she's feeling that Miss Trunchbull doesn't own her or control her anymore.

Her voice is so beautiful and so heartfelt.

Miss Honey wears an old pink linen dress with a collar and buttons down to her waist. The dress has slightly puffy shoulders and a fold in the front. She wears a pair of low, darkly coloured full heels.  Her hair is pulled back from her face by a hair clip on one side of her face.

Mrs Phelps: Mrs Phelps is just lovely. She is like a grandmother/fairy godmother. Her and Matilda have a very sweet and special relationship. She seem to be so fond of Matilda and she's very affectionate. Mrs Phelps hugs Matilda and puts her arm around her quite a lot. Phelps is very attentive to Matilda’s mood and the things she says. You can tell that she's a very intuitive person and that she senses that Matilda is troubled. This Mrs Phelps is more quiet and she doesn't react as loudly to the stories. Marianne Mörck is perfect for this Mrs Phelps, it feels like they have shaped the character around her. Her acting is really natural, she never says her lines exactly the same.

Her costume has different shades of beige and yellow and is made of linen and wool. Mrs Phelps is the epitomy of what us Swedes call a kulturtant (cultured lady). It's a lady, usually aged 60 and over, who consumes a lot of culture. She often has a membership to her local theatre or opera house, goes to art exhibitions, visits the library and advocates for culture to be available for everyone. They often dress like Mrs Phelps, in bright and earthy colours, and their clothes are made of linen and wool.

The child ensemble: All the kids are fantastic and they each bring something special to the performance. Their hard work at the Matilda school (they've been practising three days a week for about a year) has really payed off. Both teams are so tight, synched and with great chemistry between all of them. Their singing, dancing and acting is amazing and they have so much joy and energy. Their facials and reactions are fantastic. We can't praise them enough, we're in awe of them all. They have their own little quirks and things they do. They're all really good at staying in character and acting when they're not in focus. We never saw anyone lose focus, even if something unexpected happened.

In this production they don’t really follow the RSC model for the child characters. First of all, they have added another child character, called Emma. (We don’t really know why...probably because they wanted even numbers for the kids)Eric is not played by the smallest boys (so Eric doesn’t crawl around, hide with Bruce and all those things...) The Bruces aren’t always the oldest and tallest boys just as the Amandas aren’t the smallest girls (they are small, but not the smallest..) Some lines (both spoken and sung) have been switched around and given to other characters.

Some of the kids portraits differ more than the others, but we're not going in to details about that, since this is already so long.... They all make the experience so exciting and special with everything they bring. We wish we could have seen the production so many times so that we could focus on each and everyone.

Miracle outfits: Hortensia is dressed as a ballerina, in a pink outfit similar to Lavender's in the RSC production. Lavender wears a black silky dress and big sunglasses. Amanda wears a long,white, fluffy dress with flowers in different colours. Nigel and Tommy wear suits, Nigel has a white one and Tommy a black one. They also wear matching sunglasses (Nigel and Tommy are siblings in this number) Bruce wears a blue, more traditional suit and a crown. Emma (who is his sister in this number) wears a red dress, white stockings and a red diadem. Alice and Eric are also siblings here, and they are dressed in a traditional scottish/british countryside riding style, with grey/brown tweed jackets. Alice wears a skirt and Eric wears puffy pants and checkered socks. Eric wears a cap and Alice a beret.

Hairstyles: In Miracle both Hortensia and Lavender wear big top buns. Amanda has a lower bun, Alice has a braid, Emma's hair is let out and curly. Most of the boys have water combed hair.

For the rest of the show Hortensia wears pony tails, Lavender and Alice both have braids, Emma's hairstyle is similar to her Miracle style. Amanda has pigtails, of course (not a wig).

The kids wears grey school uniforms with a crunchem hall logo (not the same as in the RSC production) The logo is also incorporated in the school gate. The girls all wear the same type of dress and everyone wears white shirts, black ties, white knee high socks and black shoes.

For Phys Ed they wear black shirts with the logo in white and black knee high sports socks. The girls wear skirts and the boys shorts.

The adult ensemble: The adult ensemble play a bigger part in this production. The big school kids are much more involved in the school scenes and the dance routines. We have already mentioned that the adult ensemble is bigger in this production. Sometimes, they're all on stage together and sometimes not all of them are in certain scenes. For example, the ensemble members who play the russians are not a part of Revolting Children (at least no on stage, they sing along backstage)

There are more females than males in the adult ensemble, which you can hear during the songs. Especially in School Song and Chokey Chant. They're all very strong performers and they make a fantastic ensemble with great harmonies and tight and sharp dancing.They have excellent chemistry and really good at playing creepy (both as school kids and as the russians)

They wear almost the same type of uniforms, but the big girls don't wear dresses, they wear skirts instead. The big boys socks are not knee high. Their phys ed outfits are the same as the small kids.

Miss Trunchbull: This Miss Trunchbull is very similar to the RSC one. David is fantastic in the role, especially in the more comedic scenes. His facial expressions are out of this world. He is also a very physical actor, the way he acts with his body in the newt scene is fantastic. Twitching, bending his body in weird angles and running around in panic...  David's Trunch loves mocking Miss Honey and the students, and she repeats what they're saying in a hilarious way. Especially during the spelling test scene. Malmö Opera is located in the Swedish province Skåne and all the kids speak the accent skånska (some more than others) Skånska is a really famous accent here, everyone recognises it and pretty much everyone can speak a bit of fake skånska. One of the Hortensia's has a very strong accent, and after she says: “You can't put us all in chokey” Trunch mocks her by imitating her accent perfectly. (David speaks with another accent as Trunch) This Trunch is also very patronising. When she talks to people or say their names, she talks as if they are really far beneath her and are not worthy of her time at all.

When David speaks he sounds a bit similar to Bertie Carvel.... His singing voice is stunning, so strong and clear. Occasionally, he lets the notes go on for a bit longer. Especially at: “Don't let them take them away” in The smell of rebellion.

Trunch's costumes are very similar to the RSC Trunch in style and colour, but the socks are more of the athletic kind. She does not wear a hoodie for phys ed, but she wears a long sleeved shirt instead of her jacket. The year on the shirt is 1971 instead of 1969 (it has been changed because 1971 fits better with the rhythm of the song) and she wears a belt with medal on it. She has changed out of her heels for phys ed and wears black trainers instead. She also wears a different skirt that isn't as tight. Underneath her skirt she wears big, white underwear with flowers on.

Mr Wormwood: Mr Wormwood is also quite similar to the RSC one. Michael is equally fantastic... It's hard to talk more about Michael's portrayal, because we have mostly focused on the difference from the RSC production... It's not that his portrayal isn't memorable, because it definitely is. He is amazing in this role. We could easily see him play Mr Wormwood in the West End. Just like David, he is also very physical, but in a different way.... When he yells at Matilda, he often comes really close to her and screams in her face. When he mocks Matilda, his voice goes up and sounds squeaky, like he is impersonating her.

Mr Wormwood's outfits is more casual in this production, He wears a light green suit, blue skirt, blue socks and blueish grey loafers with gold chains. Instead of a hat, he has a white cap with “Wormwood's luxury cars” printed on it. He also wears some jewellery, like a necklace and a bracelet.

Mrs Wormwood: Mrs Wormwood  is still mean in this production, but more stupid than mean. She  is quite daft and out of it. She often has a confused look on her face. It seems like Åsa's portrayal is inspired by the participants of housewives reality shows.. She plays her part amazingly and portrays a lot of different moods in the same scene: Confusion, anger, hurt, annoyance, disappointment...to name a few. She doesn't yell/speak as loudly as the RSC's Mrs W. She drawls while speaking, when she is upset her voice is more squeaky. She also seems to dislike her husband even more. She sounds genuinely hurt by some of the things he says to her. She also laughs at and mocks her husband occasionally.

She seems very distant and cold towards Matilda, both mentally and physically. When Matilda tries to come close to her, she shoves her away and there always seem to be quite a lot of space between the two of them. She doesn't seem very fond of Mr Wormwood or Michael either, actually. The only person she seems to like is Rudolpho.

Mrs Wormwood has a lot of different outfits throughout the show. She starts out with a bodysuit with a pink fur jacket on top. During the first family scene she wears a light green dress. For Naughty she puts on a nightgown on top of her dress. The nightgown is used for the beginning of Loud, underneath it she wears a light pink dress with neon green and neon yellow details. For Telly she wears a longer fluffier dress. Later she wears fishnet stockings, a top, panties and her fur jacket on top of it. In this scene she has her hair rolled up under a hair net. She finishes off with a flamenco style dress.

Michael: This Michael is very different from the West End/Broadway Michael. He is more present in this version. Michael sits up in the couch, listens to his parents and interacts with them.

He is mostly in his own little world though, so he might not really understand what's going on. He seems content and kind of happy with that, smiling proudly every time he is acknowledged. Michael  usually has his headphones on and wanders around without direction.

Michaels costumes are based on Mr Wormwoods, he wears the same colour scheme as his dad. Michael wears a polo, shorts with suspenders, a Wormwoods luxury cars cap, (backwards) high socks and loafers.

Rudolpho: Oscar is a fabulous dancer and he can bend and twist his body in so many ways. He is also an amazing performer, his stage presence is something else... He and Åsa have an amazing connection, their chemistry is so good. Oscars Rudolpho is hilarious and a real drama queen... Sure, Rudolpho is very dramatic, but this one is extra dramatic. Everything about him is big, his gestures, movements...

Rudolpo has shorter black hair in this production. He wears a black, tight ballroom costume. For the last scene, he wears black, tight pants and an unzipped matador jacket without a shirt underneath it.

Sergei: There's something very likeable about this Sergei. It's hard to explain exactly what it is though... But we connected much more with this productions Sergei than we've done with the RSC ones. He seems really genuine and you can really see his depth.

Jonas really makes Sergei his own and it's great to see. It's great to watch him with the Matildas and how they interact with him. Sergei is dressed almost completely in black. Black shoes, pants, a mostly black coat (it shimmers a bit in dark blue/grey).  Black sunglasses and a black fur hat. He also carries a black fancy cane. He occasionally uses his cane to emphasize certain words and getting his gang to listen, by banging the cane on the floor.

The biggest difference between the productions is that Malmö opera's version have more moments where the characters are happy, or at least are able to smile and show a happier and more relaxed side of them selves. This gives the show a slightly different feel, but we like it. It makes the transitions between the lighter and darker scenes (and even the moments) even more poignant. This direction lead to a deeper relationship between some of the characters, we especially loved the added moments between Mrs Phelps and Miss Honey. Marianne and Linda have such a wonderful chemistry, you could tell how much they love working together. As we have already mentioned, Mrs Phelps and Matilda have a deeper relationship too. It’s so lovely to see Mrs Phelps together with the Matildas. It’s really clear how much she loves and cares for Matilda, and Matilda loves her back just as much. Seeing them happy together and smiling is both beautiful and heartbreaking. Because when the scene and the mood changes, you just feel so bad for Matilda.

It’s lovely to see all three of them together, interacting and being happy in the ending scene. They’re all so sweet together and you can really feel the love and happiness between the three of them, they really are like a family.

In conclusion, we really loved this production and thought it did justice to the original. Thanks for reading all of this. Again, if you have any questions or want to know more about something, just post your question here or send either of us an ask  @veilingofthesun @askyfullofcomets