#Matilda roald dahl

[thebestnewmctournament]

Who would make the best new main character? (Round 1)

Note: I recommend reading this blog's pinned post that explains what this tournament is about before voting

No propaganda submitted

[maybeimamuppet]

matildamas day 12: christmas eve

hello everyone!! happy christmas eve to all of you who celebrate and welcome to the last chapter of the 12 days of matildamas! it’s been an absolute delight seeing all of your reactions to these each day. thank you so much for all the kind words in your comments and every vote/kudos/like/reblog and all those wonderful things. they’re definitely the best gift i’ll get this christmas :))

tw for

discussion over the reality of santa

mentioned previous abuse

mentioned death

otherwise please enjoy the last day and merry christmas!!

—————

“Mummy?”

“Yes, lamb?” Jenny responds.

“Is Santa Claus real?” Matilda asks softly. Jenny pauses.

“What do you think?” she responds softly before she continues fiddling with the tinsel on the tree. Matilda ponders this.

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t always nice, but I don’t think I ever warranted a spot on the naughty list, and I still never got anything from him. And it doesn’t seem possible for a single person to be able to fly ‘round the whole world in just a night, even if he is magic. And accounting for time zones,” Matilda says. She frowns a bit and adds, “But I did have telekinesis.”

Jenny laughs and sits on the couch, beckoning her over. Matilda sits next to her and leans into her side. Jenny gently rubs up and down Matilda’s arm as she explains.

“You’re right, he’s not real in the way we usually think. There’s no magical man in a red suit who flies around with reindeer. That’s just an old tradition from a few different cultures that we keep going for fun, and to entertain children. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not real.”

“What do you mean?” Matilda asks, looking up at her.

“Well, what does Santa Claus do?” Jenny asks.

“He… delivers gifts to well-behaved children,” Matilda explains. “And eats cookies.”

“Exactly. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think you have to be magical and wear a silly costume to be able to do those things. Santa is all about the spirit of Christmas, and there’s plenty of things you can do that make you the real, live Santa Claus. Giving gifts to friends, enjoying some special holiday treats, being kind to people you meet and spreading joy. Spending time with family. All that is what Santa is about. So whenever you do those things, you’re sort of like Santa Claus, in a way.”

“Oh,” Matilda says with a soft smile. “I like that.”

“I like it too,” Jenny says with a grin. “Now, what do you say we channel our inner Santa and eat some of these cookies we made, hm?”

Matilda nods eagerly and goes rushing off to the kitchen to fetch the container. Jenny chuckles and follows her.

—————

Mrs. Phelps joins them for a lovely Christmas Eve dinner. Mrs. Phelps doesn’t celebrate Christmas herself, and Matilda is delighted to learn all about the Diwali traditions she’s recovering from preparing with her family last month. She invites them to join next year, and Jenny has to admit she’s only slightly less excited than Matilda, who starts dancing in her chair and nearly falls.

“You’re more than welcome to join us for Christmas dinner again next year as well,” Jenny says, selfishly hoping she agrees.

“I’d be delighted,” Mrs. Phelps replies. Jenny smiles sheepishly down at her ham and mashed potatoes, and gives a warning glare in response to Matilda’s smirk across the table.

Once their bellies are all stuffed, Mrs. Phelps very kindly helps with the washing up and gives them their Christmas gifts. Matilda excitedly hands over hers (a very nice new lemonade pitcher) and Jenny’s (some of her favorite books as donations to the library bus) as well.

“Merry Christmas!” Matilda says as they wave Mrs. Phelps goodbye in the cold night. She replies in kind and waves until she’s out of sight.

“Alright, my little elf, bath time for you,” Jenny says, hugging Matilda tight before sending her up the stairs and closing the door to block out the chill.

“Will you help?” Matilda asks quietly from the top. Jenny smiles and follows her upstairs.

“Of course.”

She runs some warm water into the tub and plugs the drain, before adding in some gingerbread scented bubbles and folding Matilda’s towel and pajamas on the counter to wait for her so she won’t get chilly when she gets out. Matilda smiles as she sees the foam rising from the tub and carefully slips off her Christmas dress. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love. I’ll be downstairs, give a shout if you need anything,” Jenny responds, kissing Matilda’s forehead.

“I will,” Matilda says. Jenny smiles and leaves her to her bath in privacy.

—-

Matilda comes downstairs after about an hour, clean and dry in her jammies and smelling absolutely delightful. “All clean?”

Matilda nods happily and plops herself on the ground at Jenny’s feet. Jenny chuckles and reaches for the hairbrush and comb. She pretends to complain, but this is secretly one of her favorite parts of having a daughter. Getting to do this little thing to help the very mature six-year-old care for herself.

She tenderly brushes all the knots out of Matilda’s damp hair and twists it into a braid down her back. Matilda tips her head up once she hears the small rubber band snap into place. “Thank you.”

Jenny chuckles, leaning down to kiss her nose. Matilda scrunches it with a giggle. “You’re very welcome. I’m off for my shower, and then maybe we should get a nice fire going?”

“Oh, yes please,” Matilda says, moving so Jenny can stand.

“Sounds like a plan,” Jenny says. “Just wait ‘til I get back, please.”

“I will!” Matilda says in exasperation, grabbing a book from the shelf to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

“I mean it.”

“I know,” Matilda says. Jenny almost gives her a talking to for the eye roll she uses to accompany the words, but Matilda’s loving smile as she peeks at her over her book undoes anything Jenny was feeling.

“Cheeky. Back in a tick,” she says. Matilda nods and tucks in to her book. Jenny grabs a soft towel from the linen closet and heads into the bathroom herself.

Her hair doesn’t need washing today, so she tucks it delicately beneath a waterproof cap as she slips off her clothes. She turns the water on and waits for it to warm, smelling the lingering aroma of Matilda’s gingerbread bubbles. She hums to herself as she reads the bottle and sees it doubles as body wash. Sold.

She lets out a relieved sigh as she steps in and the hot water runs over her skin, melting all the stresses of the holiday season away with it. She rolls out her shoulders and her neck to get rid of some tension and just stands there for a minute.

Jenny knows she didn’t have to push herself this hard to make Christmas magical for Matilda. She wanted to. She may have gone a little bit overboard, but it is Matilda’s first Christmas. She thinks. She hasn’t actually asked what Christmas was like for Matilda before, but Matilda’s said some things that lead her to believe it was never a very jolly time.

She bought and made tons of presents, enough to spread well away from the tree and a few boxes tall. She wrapped them as neatly as she could manage in pretty paper and shiny bags, with ribbons and bows and glittery tissue paper adorning them.

They’ve made no fewer than six batches of cookies and eaten them all before the day was out, and made handmade decorations. They spent all day playing in the snow together earlier in the month, and had some delicious hot chocolate to warm up afterwards. They put up and decorated the tree together, and made a cracking Christmas Eve dinner, if Jenny does say so herself.

But most of all, they’ve spent the time together. They did everything together. Usually one of them or the other is busy with school or friends or other commitments, and although they make it a priority, they haven’t had this much time to spend just with one another in a very long time.

And it’s been wonderful.

Getting to spend so much time one-on-one with her has reminded Jenny just how bright Matilda truly is. She’s brilliant, and she’s funny, and rambunctious and mischievous and sweet and loving and everything Jenny could possibly want for her daughter to be.

And Matilda is hers.

Jenny scrubs herself clean with the gingerbread body wash and rinses quickly, before toweling herself dry and changing into her own pajamas as quickly as she can so she can rejoin her daughter downstairs.

Matilda looks up at her as she hears her creaking down the stairs, already a solid third of the way through her thick book. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Jenny responds. “How’s the book?”

“It’s different in English,” Matilda responds, sounding neither pleased nor upset about it. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll have to let me know if it’s a good or bad different once you finish it,” Jenny says. Matilda puts Tolstoy to the side and sits up, looking curiously at Jenny.

“Are we making a fire now?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Jenny chuckles. “Little pyromaniac.”

“You brought it up!” Matilda defends. Jenny laughs and beckons her over for a hug.

“I did. It’ll be nice once we get it going, but we have to brave the outdoors to get the wood,” she says. Matilda slumps a bit against her, and Jenny laughs again.

They both put their slippers on and look at each other. Jenny nods, and Matilda undoes the lock and pulls the door open. They run out onto the porch and around to the side of the house where the wood pile sits, squealing at the cold and the damp of the snow. They grab as many logs as they can carry before running back inside and slamming the door shut behind them, bursting into peals of laughter.

They didn’t get much, but they got enough wood to have a nice fire going for at least a few hours. They deposit their logs by the fireplace in the living room. Matilda watches curiously as Jenny stacks them inside, looking to see how she does it.

“Would you like to light the match?” Jenny asks knowingly. Matilda nods happily and scoots closer. Jenny is nearby to prevent a disaster, but she knows she probably would do worse at it than Matilda.

It takes a few tries, some fanning, and some encouraging words, but eventually they have a roaring fire and close the little grate so they can feel the warmth without getting the carpet covered in ash.

They sit back, on the ground and against the sofa, both looking proudly at their creation. Matilda leans against Jenny’s arm and hugs it gently.

It’s quiet for a long moment, the only sounds being the creaking of the house and the peaceful crackling of the fire.

Eventually, Matilda asks softly, “What was Christmas like when you were a kid? When your father was alive?”

“Oh, they were wonderful,” Jenny begins fondly. “We had huge dinners on both Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Big and hearty. And filling, my goodness. My father said they never came out as good as when my mother cooked them, but I always thought they were absolutely delicious.”

Matilda looks up at her. Jenny looks back, leaning her cheek against the top of Matilda’s head, and continues.

“He always put a photo of her up on the mantel, and he hung her stocking in between ours. We decorated the tree together every year. He’d always say he wasn’t tall enough to reach the tippy top, so he’d pick me up and let me put the angel on. He put up streamers and stickers on the windows and lights way up on the roof and tinsel everywhere. He had this ancient Bing Crosby Christmas record that we’d always listen to, and he’d sing along. I always thought his voice sounded like chocolate. Rich and smooth.

“We used to make food for the reindeer. It was just oats and colored sugar, but I thought it was absolutely magical. We’d leave it on the porch and some cookies for Santa on the bench. I always asked to wait for him so I could say hello, so my father would put on his coat and get me all bundled up, and I’d sit outside on his lap and watch for the sleigh in the sky until I fell asleep.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Matilda says softly. Jenny smiles.

“It was,” she replies in a whisper. “And I always, always got to open just one present on Christmas Eve.”

That gets Matilda’s attention. Jenny laughs.

“Would you like to?”

Matilda nods. Jenny sends her over to the packed tree.

“Pick one. Any one,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back to watch. Matilda grabs a small, flattish box wrapped in red plaid paper with a gold bow and looks at her curiously. Jenny nods, so Matilda scoots back over to her and gently tears the paper off.

She carefully opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper inside. She tips her head when she sees what’s inside. “A scarf?”

Jenny smiles, pulling out the white scarf and wrapping it gently around Matilda’s neck. “My mother made this for me when I was still a baby. To match hers. I was always looking at it, even as such a little one. My father said she spent weeks knitting it for me and I never went anywhere without it. I found it in the attic a few weeks ago.”

Matilda gently holds the end of the woven thing in her hand and looks up at her. “You’re giving it to me?”

“Of course,” Jenny says, wiping a tear from Matilda’s cheek. “I have the real thing now. And I know my mother would’ve loved to see it passed down to her grandchild. That’s your own special white scarf, now.”

“I love it,” Matilda says softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Jenny responds, gently patting her cheek. Matilda suddenly stands and goes running off. “Where are you going?”

Matilda thunders up the stairs to her room and back down so quickly Jenny is worried she’ll fall. She returns with a small, neatly wrapped gift. The taping job is a little shoddy, but it’s otherwise very well done. “Here.”

“For me?” Jenny chuckles. Matilda nods.

“Oh, but… it’s all I could get for you,” she says sadly. “If you open it now you won’t have anything to open tomorrow morning.”

“Would you rather I wait?” Jenny asks, resting her hands gently on the gift.

“…No. Unless you want to.”

“I’ll have just as much fun watching you open your things. Let me see what you’ve gotten for me,” Jenny says. She gently undoes the paper and gasps softly as she pulls out… a book. The book.

“Mrs. Phelps helped me,” Matilda says shyly. “But I wrote it myself.”

“This is what you were working on so hard?” Jenny asks with tears brimming in her eyes. “All those drawings?”

Matilda nods. “Yes. Do… do you like it?”

“Oh, darling, I love it,” Jenny says, letting out the softest of sobs as she pulls Matilda right to her. Matilda clings to her neck and rests her head on her shoulder. “I can’t believe you wrote a whole book just for me. I’m so proud of you, your first book.”

“Thank you,” Matilda says, sounding the slightest bit choked with how tight Jenny is hugging her.

“Can I read it?” Jenny asks as she lets her go. Matilda nods.

Jenny rests it carefully on the ground and opens the front cover, lying on her stomach in front of her to read it. Matilda lies next to her and watches both the pages turn and Jenny’s reaction to them.

The Butterfly and the Bird, by Matilda Kate Honey

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful hummingbird. She had green plumage and a blue tail. Her grey wings carried her gracefully between all the flowers in the meadow she called home.

She was also a very special hummingbird. It was her job to teach all the baby hummingbirds how to collect nectar from the flowers, too. She had done this for many years, and was very good at it.

One day, a little blue butterfly fluttered over and landed on the top of her beak. “Hello,” cheeped the hummingbird.

“Oh, Miss Hummingbird, you must help me,” the butterfly pleaded. “I see you teaching all the other hummingbirds how to collect nectar from the flowers. My butterfly parents won’t teach me, and I’m so hungry. Will you please help?”

“Oh,” said the hummingbird. “We are different species. I’ve never taught a butterfly before.”

The butterfly looked defeated and began to flutter away.

Before she could get too far, the hummingbird chirped, “But I’ll try as hard as I can.”

They flew off across the meadow together, pausing at all the best-looking flowers so the butterfly could learn. The hummingbird found out that even though the butterfly didn’t know how to collect food, she knew lots of other things. The butterfly knew the names of all the flowers, and all the grasses that grew in the meadow too. The hummingbird thought this was very interesting.

After that first day, the butterfly came bright and early to join the class of the hummingbirds. The hummingbird smiled every time she saw the butterfly, and let her ride between the blossoms on her head so the butterfly wouldn’t get tired trying to keep up.

But their lessons didn’t go unnoticed.

In the meadow, there was a big, terrible, ugly, mean old hawk. So big and so terrible it could’ve swallowed them both up in a single gobble.

Everyone was afraid of the hawk. The hummingbird was very afraid of the hawk. As a fledgling the hawk had nibbled on her wing and made it too hard to fly. She had been stuck in one place for many, many, many years until her wing had gotten better, but she still flew the slightest bit lopsided.

One day after hummingbird school, the hawk approached the hummingbird. “Hello, Miss Hummingbird.”

“Hello,” the hummingbird replied politely.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the hawk said with a snarl.

“There is a young butterfly across the meadow. I’ve been teaching her how to collect nectar with my other students so she doesn’t starve.”

The hawk tilted her head and sneered at her. “A butterfly? In a hummingbird class?”

“Yes. She’s very smart,” the hummingbird says.

“Ridiculous. Butterflies can’t be smart. They don’t even have brains!” insisted the hawk.

“Of course they do! And this one has a big one,” the hummingbird said bravely.

“Are you calling me a liar?” growled the hawk.

“N-no, of course not,” stuttered the hummingbird.

The hawk took big, slow steps, closer and closer until their beaks were nearly touching. “Then listen when I say. You are forbidden from teaching the butterfly any more. You’d better listen. You know what I can do.”

The hummingbird couldn’t do anything except nod frantically. The hawk got up and flew away to her tree overlooking the whole big meadow.

The next day, the butterfly came flying over for class like always. The hummingbird looked at her sadly as she landed on her beak. “Oh, dear butterfly,” she said. “I’m not sure I can help you anymore.”

“Why not?” the butterfly asked after a moment’s consideration.

“My boss says I can’t teach you anymore,” the hummingbird explains. She apologized and said they would have to figure something else out. “We will have to figure something else out. I won’t give up on you.”

The butterfly smiled and tickled the hummingbird with her antennae in appreciation. Before the hummingbird could respond, the butterfly lifted up and started flying away.

“Where are you going?!” the hummingbird called after her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you tomorrow!” the butterfly replied.

The butterfly came back the very next day. Nothing seemed any different to the hummingbird. “Hello again, little butterfly.”

“Hello,” the butterfly replied.

“What was so important yesterday?” the hummingbird asked.

“Oh, I just had to check something,” the butterfly replied. The hummingbird was suspicious, but she didn’t mention anything. “Has the hawk done anything?”

“Not recently,” the hummingbird replied, flying after the butterfly into the meadow.

“I watch from my bush sometimes. I don’t think the other hummingbirds you teach like her very much either.”

“No, I don’t think they do,” the hummingbird admitted.

Suddenly, they heard a snap of a beak and a snarl from behind them. “Miss Hummingbird.”

They both froze and slowly turned around. “Y-yes?”

“I told you not to see this butterfly ever again,” the hawk said threateningly.

"You did.”

“Then why did you? Do you not fear what I’m capable of?” the hawk growled, stepping closer and closer to them on its terrible legs.

The hummingbird stood fast, trembling from beak to bottom. “I do. But I won’t let this creature suffer because of your rules.”

The hawk leapt at them, snapping its terrible beak and flying after them as fast as it could.

“Run!” yelled the butterfly, and they both took off. They ran and ran, over the meadows and through the woods, as fast as they could, with the hawk chasing them all the way.

Eventually, they made it to a very particular tree. They both landed on a tiny, thin branch way, way up high, too thin to support the hawk’s weight.

To the hummingbird’s surprise, all of her hummingbird students were there too, sitting next to a massive pile of the itchiest pollen the butterfly had gathered during her lessons. Everyone took a clump in their wing, and hurled it at the hawk.

They bonked and bounced and hit the hawk from every angle, but still she persisted. Then, the butterfly took one clump, the last one, in her little wing and threw it as hard as she could. It hit the hawk square up the nose, and she sneezed so hard she flew backwards for miles and miles, and was never seen again.

The hummingbird took over as queen of the meadow, and the butterfly moved into the closest bush. Every day they met for tea, and every night they took turns sleeping in the others nest.

And all the air, and all the land, and even all the water, belonged to them, together.

And they lived happily ever after.

Matilda has been gazing intently at her face the entire time she read, looking for every small little hint of emotion. Jenny carefully flips the last page over and stares down at the back cover. “Did… did you like it? I-it was a lot harder to write the story down instead of just saying it out loud like I usually do, so it… it…”

Jenny slowly sits up and hauls Matilda into her lap, squeezing her tight and burying her face in her hair. She tries not to let Matilda see her cry, but she feels a few tears slip out of her closed eyes. “Oh, Matilda. I loved it. This is my favorite book I’ve ever read. And the best present I’ve ever received.”

Matilda wiggles until her face is exposed to air once more and quietly asks, “Really?”

Jenny nods and leaves a lingering kiss on her daughter’s soft little cheek. “Well, the best gift I’ve really ever gotten was you. But it’s definitely the best book in the whole world. I absolutely love it.”

Matilda smiles and cuddles back into her. Jenny holds her close and smiles at the book still resting on the floor.

They’re content to stay like that for quite a while. Jenny gently rocks Matilda from side to side every now and again, but other than that, they’re still and silent for a long time.

“Have I got to go to bed now?” Matilda asks quietly after a while. Jenny chuckles.

“Not tonight, unless you’re tired.”

Matilda shakes her head. Jenny is confused when she pries herself from her grasp and pads over to their bookshelf. Matilda stands on her tiptoes to grab whatever she’s after and comes back. Jenny recognizes it immediately. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. She smiles and pats the ground next to her. Matilda pulls their cushiest blanket off the back of the couch and spreads it on the ground, and their softest one goes on top of them as they lay side by side to read.

“Do you want to read it or shall I?” Jenny asks when they’re all comfortable.

“Oh, wait!” Matilda says, and she’s off again. Jenny sighs affectionately as she hears her making a great cacophony of noise in the kitchen. She runs a hand over the smooth plastic dust jacket protecting the hard cover of the book as she waits.

Matilda comes back after another little while with two mugs of steaming hot tea carefully resting on a tray, and a large pile of the Christmas cookies they made sitting between them.

“Ooh,” Jenny says when she rests the tray on the ground nearby, but far enough away that it won’t get accidentally bumped. “Thank you, love. This is just perfect, now.”

Matilda just nods with a wide smile on her face. She settles back in and pulls the book open. “Let’s switch for each chapter. But you go first.”

“Alright,” Jenny says, sliding the book the slightest bit closer to herself and beginning to read aloud. “Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner.”

Matilda folds her arms and gently rests her head upon them, gazing fondly at Jenny, not that she quite noticed, and the out-of-focus glow of the Christmas tree behind her. The fire crackles in the hearth nearby, and they both sip slowly at their sweet tea and nibble on cookies as they read.

They don’t get too far into the book before they both get quite tired. In fact, the book lies open partway through even as they drift off to sleep just after the clock strikes midnight.

But just before they do, they both listen to the old grandfather clock upstairs chime twelve long times, and they smile the faintest bit at one another.

“Happy Christmas, Matilda,” Jenny whispers, tucking a strand of Matilda’s hair behind her ear and leaving a hand on her cheek.

“Happy Christmas, Mummy.”

And they both drifted off to a sound sleep thinking the same thing.

It’s already the happiest I’ve ever had.

—————

thank you all once again for all the love and all the reads. it means more to me than you know <3

and of course another big thank you to everyone who helped this little series happen. all of you, and especially to @churchoftheconfusedchicken (here and ao3) and @serene-sapphic (here, serenesapphic on ao3). much love to them <3

if you celebrate i hope you had a wonderful holiday season, and if you don’t i hope you had a wonderful few weeks and enjoyed these chapters.

i’ll see you all in the new year!! thank you all for making this very tough year a little bit brighter :)

lots of love,

ezzy

[puzzled-pegasus]

Is Miss Trunchbull from Matilda a queercoded villain?

Discuss :)

[truessences]

Check out my review of Matilda the Musical!

[popcornoncemore]

Roald Dahl's Matilda has always been important to me in all of it's forms. However, I think that as I get older and I start recognizing bullies I never realized were hurting me and I began needing to know how to fight for myself, the story becomes even more important. I may not have magic powers, but I can rewrite my story with bravery, intellect, and most importantly love and friendship. Every time I read or watch a version of Matilda, I feel more empowered to take back my life.

[rococobimbo]

Shoutout to Miss Honey from Matilda fr, gotta be one of my favorite genders

[vento-di-fata]

Did they seriously put a Doctor Who reference in the Matilda musical

[sxnyarostova]

just realised today that the entirety of matilda is just dahl making social commentary on how debilitating and destructive the school system is + how we tamp down on the curiosity and creativity of young children with what we think is “education”

[intrn37]

I think maturing as an asexual is realising what Ms Trunchbull said in Matilda the musical actually makes an eery amount of sense

[space-sheep08]

Hey everyone, if you want to read a good Matilda fanfiction I would really recommend you this one !! It's a His dark materials AU (in the sense of people having dæmons) and it's mainly foccused on Jenny but Matilda is also very sweet. It's kinda sad but there's a very nice ending and it's honnestly one of the best use I've seen of the concept of dæmons ! ^^

[novelist-becca]

Parallels & Differences between Carrie (book and movies) and Matilda (book and movie)

Parallels

Carrie and Matilda have abusive parents

Carrie and Matilda were threatened to be locked in a closet and were locked in said closet later on

Carrie and Matilda have telekinetic powers (duh)

Carrie and Matilda had a motherly figure at school (Carrie had Miss Collins and Matilda had Miss Honey)

Both girls practiced their powers with fascination when they found out they had them

Both girls ended up taking revenge on their enemies (in their own ways of course)

Margaret White and Agatha Trunchbull are both abusive to the title character in their own ways. Both threaten the girls by throwing them in a closet, both claim they are superior, both yell a lot, and both get their karma in the end.

Differences

Matilda had a much happier ending than Carrie, as she gets adopted by Miss Honey and moves into a beautiful new house with her, while Carrie unfortunately dies (or did she) holding her mother as their house collapses on top of them.

Matilda was more confident than Carrie, as she was always happy at her school despite the evil principal.

While Carrie was mercilessly bullied by her peers, Matilda made friends easily, Lavender especially. Lavender even alerted Miss Honey that Matilda was in the Chokey (closet), getting her out of there much faster.

Carrie was locked in the closet until the next morning, and Matilda was eventually gotten out of the Chokey by Miss Honey.

Nobody dies in Matilda

Matilda doesn’t use her powers to kill (she’s only 6 1/2, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t), instead she uses them like Carrie did in the beginning, just to move things and close doors and stuff.

The only people Matilda are bullied by are her parents, her brother, and the principal.

Matilda doesn’t have any remakes (however I am curious as to what a Matilda remake would look like)

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

I always forget Matilda has telekenetic powers

She has so many other traits that it’s hard to remember that sometimes

[maybeimamuppet]

matildamas day 11: making special breakfast

hi everyone!! welcome welcome to day eleven and your dose of a tiny bit of holiday angst!

tw for

repercussions of child abuse/trauma

enjoy!!

————

Jenny is awoken in the wee hours of the morning by sounds in the hallway outside her room.

Frowning in confusion, she puts on her slippers and cracks the door, listening to what must be Matilda in the hall, creaking down it and down the stairs. Jenny opens her door the rest of the way and steps out. The clock against the far wall reads 3:45 a.m. What is she doing awake?

She follows her curiously down the stairs and finds her in the living room, with the lights to the Christmas tree turned on. Otherwise the room is pitch dark. Matilda sits on her knees facing it, almost unmoving.

“Matilda?” Jenny murmurs. Matilda jumps and whirls around to see her, surreptitiously wiping some tears from her eyes with the back of her sleeve and sniffling quietly. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m sorry,” Matilda whispers shakily.

Jenny frowns and goes to kneel beside her daughter. Matilda sobs quietly as Jenny wraps an arm around her shoulders. Jenny frowns in concern and pulls her close, rubbing her hand gently up and down Matilda’s arm. “It’s alright, firefly. Why are you so upset, now?”

Matilda is quiet for a long, long time, her tears twinkling in her eyes and as they fall down her cheeks, reflecting the white lights shining on the Christmas tree.

Her voice trembles when her lips part and she softly says, “E-every year, there would be so-so many gifts under the tree they spread out from beneath it for a meter on-on every side.”

Jenny turns to look at her, and just listens.

“And every year on-on Christmas Eve, I’d sneak out of bed and go downstairs and I’d check all of them. Every single one. To see if it-it had my name,” Matilda continues. “And none… none of them ever did. Every one was for Mum, or Michael, or for Dad. Every one. I never saw my name on any. I never had a stocking.”

Jenny is almost in tears listening to the child explain.

“I-I’m… thrilled, to live here. It’s so wonderful. But… I think about them every day. In science there’s always a reason for why things happen. And in stories you almost always find out why things happen, too. And I just-I just don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Oh, darling,” Jenny says as Matilda’s voice breaks at the end of the sentence and she breaks down sobbing, face towards the floor. She’s limp and molds willingly to her body when Jenny picks her up and cradles her in her lap.

“Why did they love Michael and not me? Why-why didn’t they want me? Ever, even though I tried so-so hard?! Why didn’t… why didn’t they love me?!”

She starts crying so hard she’s hyperventilating, and Jenny is a little worried she’ll be sick. She squeezes her child even tighter to her and rocks her, squeezes her, holds her, cries right along with her.

She knows Matilda isn’t able to take in information in her state, at least not now. Even still, she gently hushes her, murmurs, “I know, darling, I know, let it out. I’m here, I’ve got you. Shhh, I know.”

Matilda cries for at least an hour. Sometimes her sobs slow only to pick right up again, but for the most part, she just releases those heavy, deep, heart-wrenching, stomach-aching sobs that wrack her whole little body and send millions of teardrops soaking into Jenny’s pajama top. They both just sit there and cry together, in the brisk, dark, early hours of the morning.

Eventually, finally, Matilda quiets and sniffles a final sniffle against Jenny’s shoulder. Jenny immediately cups her small face between her hands and dries her tears with her thumb, before she presses a lingering kiss right between Matilda’s eyebrows.

“I love you,” is the first thing she says.

Matilda sniffles again, but her arms tighten the slightest bit around Jenny’s neck.

“I… I don’t know why they didn’t. I wish more than anything I could at least explain in a satisfying way why they behaved the way they did. I wish I could take this pain from you, my lamb. If I thought it would do any good I’d hunt them down in Spain and demand answers from them, but… sometimes we just have to let the past ache for a while. We may never get that closure, and I’m so sorry for that.”

Matilda sniffles again, looking intently at her.

“I wish you had never had to even meet them, sometimes. They caused you so much undue heartache,” Jenny continues. “So much strife and misery. I truly don’t understand how someone can look a little girl as beautiful and wonderful as you in those precious eyes and still choose to be so horrible. I’ll never understand.

“But I can absolutely promise you, with all my heart, that it is entirely on them. It was never, ever your fault, my firefly. You didn’t ask to be born at all, especially to them. They made some despicable choices that hurt a lot of people, but most especially you. And those are their choices. You didn’t deserve that in the slightest. And it was absolutely not caused by anything you did.

“And as much as I wish they hadn’t, you have come out of that family such an amazing child. Even if someday your body catches up to your mind, which I doubt, mind you, but even if it does, you’re so wonderful, Matilda. You’re bright and giggly and kind and sweet and caring and beautiful. And you’re you. And I absolutely love getting to have you and to love you. It’s by far and away the best thing ever to happen to me. I wouldn’t trade getting to raise you for all the money and gold and silver in the entire world.”

“I love you,” Matilda replies shakily. It may be many fewer words than Jenny said, but she knows they’re just as profound, carry just as much meaning behind them. Jenny smiles sadly and gently strokes her thumb across her cheek once more.

“I love you too.” She tries to keep the quiver from her voice as she says the words. Matilda wraps herself back around her and rests her cheek on her shoulder, her face outwards and towards the tree. “You won’t have to do that this year, I promise. All the presents will have your name. And you saw me knit your stocking myself. You’ll never have to go back to being treated that way.”

She feels Matilda smile faintly against her shoulder, and she smiles in return as she gently noses against Matilda’s hair.

“Feeling any better?” she murmurs. Matilda nods gently. “Good.”

Neither of them are entirely sure how long they stay like that. Jenny goes back to gently rocking her daughter and gazing at nothing. Matilda stares peacefully at the tree and lets herself be cuddled close.

They both jump a little when the large grandfather clock at the top of the stairs chimes six a.m. Matilda sighs a little as she relaxes again. Jenny does too, taking another deep inhale to try to get her breathing back into a normal rhythm.

“I’m hungry,” Matilda whispers after a while, like it’s some terribly shameful secret. Jenny can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“Shall we go work on breakfast? I don’t see much sense in trying to go back to sleep now.”

Matilda nods, and Jenny can feel her yawn.

She pauses for a moment before she asks, “What’s your very favorite breakfast? If you could have anything in the world to eat right now, what would it be?”

Matilda mulls this over for a good while. Jenny wants to do her very best to turn this morning around for the both of them, so she’s content to do whatever Matilda says. Within reason, of course. Matilda did ask if they could add gold leaf to their pork chops one evening, just to see what it was like. Jenny respectfully turned down that idea in rather a hurry.

But, this time, Matilda simply replies, “Pancakes.”

“Just pancakes?” Jenny asks. They’re not exactly a common breakfast for them, but they’re not a hot or rare commodity, either. But Matilda nods. “Then let’s go make pancakes.”

Matilda lifts her head off her shoulder and smiles at her. Jenny smiles back and helps her up. Matilda helps her in return. Ordinarily she’d go rushing off to the kitchen and already be halfway done with the pancakes by the time Jenny made it, but today they go hand in hand. Matilda seems to need Jenny’s solid presence nearby. Jenny is more than content to oblige.

It’s an oddly silent breakfast-making morning, though neither of them see it as a negative thing. Matilda needs time to process and recover from the deep, heavy, soul-altering emotions of the morning; along with her lack of sleep. Jenny simply doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence today.

They decide to spoil themselves a bit by making their pancakes from scratch instead of a box mix. They work off each other even without speaking. Matilda measures and adds the flour, Jenny adds the baking powder and salt. Matilda does the sugar, Jenny adds the milk and the butter. Matilda cracks in an egg as the last step.

The recipe doesn’t call for mess, but they make one anyway. It always happens, no matter how hard they try to avoid it. But, seeing Matilda grin faintly as she picks up a drop of spilled batter on her finger and sneakily tastes it makes the cloud of flour on the counter and the bit of spilled egg entirely worth it.

“Pick a fruit or two and some protein, please,” Jenny says as she melts some butter on the pan to prepare to cook the pancakes. Matilda nods and heads to root through the refrigerator and the fruit bowl on the counter next to it. To nobody’s surprise, she returns with a package of bacon, a crate of strawberries, and two bananas. Jenny smiles as Matilda rests her bounty on the counter and starts preparing everything.

Jenny focuses on cooking the pancakes. Matilda does like helping with the mixture, but she says Jenny cooks them better and somehow makes them tastier. Jenny is constantly (with no foundation, mind) worried that Matilda will burn herself, and is always happy to step in.

Matilda chops the bananas into pennies, the green tops off the strawberries, and gets another pan going to fry up the bacon. Before long, they have a huge stack of pancakes nearly a foot high, a whole box’s worth of delicious strawberries washed and ready to eat, bananas beautifully sliced up for them, and delectable-smelling bacon just begging to be piled onto plates and gobbled up.

Jenny gets down their fancy china, usually reserved for parties and the like, from the cabinet, along with their personal teacups. Matilda smiles when she sees all the festive dishware out and ready to be used.

Matilda ducks out to use the restroom just before they sit down to eat. Jenny takes the opportunity to prepare her a special plate of their delicious breakfast.

She takes one of the more lopsided pancakes and uses it as the base for her masterpiece. She places another, much smaller and more round, one at the bottom, and then two of the banana slices to be eyeballs. They look a bit incomplete, so she takes two blueberries from a crate in the fridge and sticks them in the middle of the bananas. A strawberry for a nose, and bacon carefully slid haphazardly beneath the pancakes. Jenny chuckles proudly to herself when she sees the pancake Rudolph she’s left with. It’s ever so slightly creepy, but mostly very cute. Matilda will love it, and more importantly, will eat it.

Matilda returns from the bathroom drying her still-damp hands on her nightgown. She takes a seat at the kitchen table and yawns with her head resting in her little hand. Jenny slides the reindeer breakfast in front of her, and watches the smile spread across her entire face. Matilda looks up at her with sheer joy and a touch of gratitude in her eyes. She does a little happy dance and smiles back down at her breakfast before popping the strawberry nose into her mouth.

Jenny plates up her own pancakes and sits across from her, smiling as Matilda methodically eats away her reindeer.

Between the two of them, they just manage to finish almost all the food. They don’t quite manage to polish it all off, but neither of them mind. They’re both absolutely stuffed, and Matilda is smiling. That’s all that matters. The bacon can be made into sandwiches for lunch, the pancakes will keep well wrapped up for a few more days of tasty breakfast, and the fruit will make a nutritious thing for them to nibble on when they get peckish throughout the day.

They wash the dishes side by side. Jenny scrubs, Matilda dries and puts the clean ones in the rack. With both working, it takes no time at all.

Matilda gives a remarkable yawn as soon as the dish towel is hung to dry on the cabinet. Jenny can’t quite contain a chuckle.

“Do you want to go back to bed for a bit? That yawn was strong enough to wake the dead,” she hums. “You must be tired.”

Matilda nods. She had a very emotionally taxing morning, and a good cry, all on top of being up at four in the morning. Her eyes are heavy, and she keeps rubbing at them with a little fist. Jenny can almost see how much energy it takes her just to say, “Yes please.”

Jenny nods. “Go on then. I’ll get you up in a couple hours.”

Matilda pads slowly towards the staircase, yawning again and stretching as she goes. Her hand wraps around the stair post, and she pauses as she touches the worn, dark wood. “Will you tuck me in?”

Jenny chuckles again. “Tuck you in for a nap?” she says. Matilda nods shyly. “Of course. Come on, up you get.”

Matilda smiles faintly and walks up the stairs. Jenny follows closely and trails behind her into Matilda’s bedroom.

Matilda crawls into bed and gets into a comfortable position. Jenny carefully fluffs out her blankets and lays them over her, and hands her her stuffed worm to snuggle with while she rests. Matilda smiles as she gently cups her face and leans down to kiss her forehead. She inhales a bit and asks, “Will you stay?”

Jenny pauses briefly.

“Please?” Matilda asks quietly. Jenny nods. How can she say no?

“Of course. Budge up,” she says. Matilda scoots over to make room for Jenny beneath the covers and latches back to her side as soon as she’s comfortable. Matilda grabs and holds tightly to her arm, as if trying to tether her to the bed. Jenny smooths a hand through her hair and kisses her forehead again. “Go to sleep. You need some more rest.”

Matilda nods and rests her head on her shoulder. Jenny looks at the ceiling peacefully as she listens to Matilda’s breathing grow steadily more slow and even. Just before she drifts off completely, Matilda’s lips part and she whispers, “Thank you.”

Jenny smiles and cuddles her a little closer. “Always, my firefly.”

————-

i hope you enjoyed!! see you tomorrow for the final day !!

[magicalgrandson]

Maggots

[space-sheep08]

Here have some Matilda fanarts !

I created my own designs based on the book descriptions.

I created few of the children of the third drawing

(I don't really like the first drawing but I wanted to post it because it's miss Honey and that I love her 😳)

[andsosingmetosleep]

The books transported her into new worlds and introduced her to amazing people who lived exciting lives. She went on olden-day sailing ships with Joseph Conrad. She went to Africa with Ernest Hemingway and to India with Rudyard Kipling. She travelled all over the world while sitting in her little room in an English village.

Matilda - Roald Dahl