Bulleted points, in essence. It's late.
Chapter thirty-three of HP7 = aldkjfalkjfalkjfdlkajflakfja
I love this book.
Sixty pages to go!
The mumsy and me made up over shopping. I have nothing more to say on the matter.
Day, I'm sorry I didn't call you back. I'll see you next week, though!! Miss you!
Am heading upstate for a few days; will be back by Saturday night.
Before then, though, I'll post some fic. This was for kaitodoushi's birthday, erm, last year. I'm so sorry this is so late! The prompt she gave me was Momiji from Fruits Basket and an invisible friend he might have had. Hope you enjoy, Kaito! In spite of the lateness, with any luck!!
Untouchable
There was a little girl that used to come play with him. She’d appear from the shadows in ribbons and lace, and be wearing a smile much cuter than any of her clothes.
She had this little laugh, and she loved all the games he thought up. It was lonely at Papa’s office sometimes, so she kept him company, kept the long hours full of smiles and happiness.
One day Mama came to Papa’s office, and turned her eyes down at him. She wasn’t the Mama he knew, the one that he wanted to know.
Her belly was round.
“Momiji-chan,” she said, resting one hand on her hip, fingers splayed across her stomach. He froze and stared up at her, and a million words he wanted to say found themselves lost in his throat.
“Momiji-chan,” she said again. “What are you doing?”
The answer was immediate, because he couldn’t waste time, not around Mama. She might remember, and that would make everything worse.
“Playing with my invisible friend!” He pasted on a smile, and from beside him, a little girl only he could see looked down, blushing, grinning.
“Ah. I see. And what is your friend’s name?”
He bounced.
“Momo!”
The woman didn’t smile. The woman didn’t laugh. The Mama he knew would have, but it was better like this.
It was better like this.
“I see, then. It was nice talking to you Momiji-chan.”
He deflated as he heard the click-clack of her heels echo from further and further away down the hall.
He still smiled, though.
For her sake.
“Same to you… Mama.”
-
Every time Momiji saw Mama at the office after that, she wasn’t alone. She had a little girl with her, decked in ribbons and lace and shy little movements.
He wondered if she smiled liked he’d always imagined, smiled like Mama, maybe.
He wondered if she had that little laugh his invisible friend use to have, the one that made his life feel happy (so happy).
He wondered if she wanted to come play with him.
He wondered if she was lonely.
And it was hard (so hard) because there were all these games in his head that he wanted to play with her but he couldn’t. There were things he wanted to say, a million of them, that found themselves lost when she turned her eyes toward him.
There was Mama, and that was the hardest of all.
Because Mama, who he wanted so much to be happy, had Momo, named for his invisible friend.
But now that she was here, all ribbons and lace and hoped-for happiness, he knew that he’d predicted wrong.
Momo existed, lived and laughed, and it was him - really him - that was the invisible one.
~
Also, Cheap Seats episodes are on iTunes. My night has thusly been made. By grown men making fun of defenseless children.
Edit: I am such a perv, because I just misread "pennies" as "penises." The context makes it even worse, trust me.
I love this book.
Sixty pages to go!
The mumsy and me made up over shopping. I have nothing more to say on the matter.
Day, I'm sorry I didn't call you back. I'll see you next week, though!! Miss you!
Am heading upstate for a few days; will be back by Saturday night.
Before then, though, I'll post some fic. This was for kaitodoushi's birthday, erm, last year. I'm so sorry this is so late! The prompt she gave me was Momiji from Fruits Basket and an invisible friend he might have had. Hope you enjoy, Kaito! In spite of the lateness, with any luck!!
Untouchable
There was a little girl that used to come play with him. She’d appear from the shadows in ribbons and lace, and be wearing a smile much cuter than any of her clothes.
She had this little laugh, and she loved all the games he thought up. It was lonely at Papa’s office sometimes, so she kept him company, kept the long hours full of smiles and happiness.
One day Mama came to Papa’s office, and turned her eyes down at him. She wasn’t the Mama he knew, the one that he wanted to know.
Her belly was round.
“Momiji-chan,” she said, resting one hand on her hip, fingers splayed across her stomach. He froze and stared up at her, and a million words he wanted to say found themselves lost in his throat.
“Momiji-chan,” she said again. “What are you doing?”
The answer was immediate, because he couldn’t waste time, not around Mama. She might remember, and that would make everything worse.
“Playing with my invisible friend!” He pasted on a smile, and from beside him, a little girl only he could see looked down, blushing, grinning.
“Ah. I see. And what is your friend’s name?”
He bounced.
“Momo!”
The woman didn’t smile. The woman didn’t laugh. The Mama he knew would have, but it was better like this.
It was better like this.
“I see, then. It was nice talking to you Momiji-chan.”
He deflated as he heard the click-clack of her heels echo from further and further away down the hall.
He still smiled, though.
For her sake.
“Same to you… Mama.”
-
Every time Momiji saw Mama at the office after that, she wasn’t alone. She had a little girl with her, decked in ribbons and lace and shy little movements.
He wondered if she smiled liked he’d always imagined, smiled like Mama, maybe.
He wondered if she had that little laugh his invisible friend use to have, the one that made his life feel happy (so happy).
He wondered if she wanted to come play with him.
He wondered if she was lonely.
And it was hard (so hard) because there were all these games in his head that he wanted to play with her but he couldn’t. There were things he wanted to say, a million of them, that found themselves lost when she turned her eyes toward him.
There was Mama, and that was the hardest of all.
Because Mama, who he wanted so much to be happy, had Momo, named for his invisible friend.
But now that she was here, all ribbons and lace and hoped-for happiness, he knew that he’d predicted wrong.
Momo existed, lived and laughed, and it was him - really him - that was the invisible one.
~
Also, Cheap Seats episodes are on iTunes. My night has thusly been made. By grown men making fun of defenseless children.
Edit: I am such a perv, because I just misread "pennies" as "penises." The context makes it even worse, trust me.