Chapter 21A (Not So) Very Grumpy Birthday28 February 2022Aoife is just gd that the nonsense didn’t start before she’d have a chance to get herself cleaned up in the morning. She’s never been a morning person, and even less so the ungodly hours that count as ‘morning’ at the manor — waking up at 7am is brutal. She didn’t even do that back when she was in secondary school.
Granted, she lived a 5 minute walk away from hers, and rolled out of bed almost straight into csses still looking like a mess. It’s not like she cared about how other people saw her. No one talked to her, and that’s just how she liked it. Living so close to her school also meant she could go home during the lunch breaks. Not to eat, but more to stay away from others.
She doesn’t like people. She doesn’t like attention. She hates presents, and she fucking despises her birthday. It’s lucky, then, that she was born on the 29th — she always had an out. From her 12th birthday onwards, she decided she wouldn’t even pretend to celebrate it unless it was the actual day — and then she skipped out on her 16th and 20th birthdays anyways. There was no one to celebrate with beyond family, and she didn’t really care about celebrating with her parents.
No one at the manor has learned that lesson yet, though— she doesn’t care. It’s not fun. It’s uncomfortable more than anything, really. Having to pretend to be someone she’s not just so others can pretend to care about her when they never have. Having to pretend to be her father’s son and her mother’s dearest little thing when they insisted on taking her out to some local restaurant for dinner, so they could guilt her into actually eating properly for once.
“Stop hiding that pretty little face in your hands, Grumpy.” Jenny sits down at the table next to her.
Aoife immediately feels a little bit guilty for being worse than usual today. “I’m sorry. I hate mornings.”
“It’s a very special morning though.” Her friend tries to put on a bit of a show of being genuinely happy to be there— which Aoife knew is the truth.
“Birthday mornings are the worst mornings.” She spins her spoon around in her bowl of weetabix until she’s created a not very satisfying vortex.
“I know it’s not easy.” Jenny turns to look her in the eyes. “But you know what you promised when you first came here right?”
Of course she did. It’s what she’s been trying and failing to do for the past month or so. “That I would try to be more open to new people and experiences.”
She did actually try for the first few days, at least until Alice decided that she was a horrible person. Not that she cares if Alice thinks that way about her— she would rather not put up with her at all. It’s like she’s always judging her, even when Aoife does her best to stay out of the girl’s way. It doesn’t help that she’s too fragile to be told why she avoids her— Alice is rather too much like Aoife’s mother, really.
“And I’m going to be holding you to that.” Her only friend asserts.
“I’d rather you not— not today.” Aoife sighs.
Jenny boops her on the nose. “Stop being so depressing.”
Aoife stares at her, unsure to respond. She’s never sure how to respond to that.
“Works every time.” The blonde grins. “You’re worse at handling it than Amy was back when she was being all grumpy about things.”
“She probably likes it, though.”
“You say that as if you don’t like it, Fifi. But your blush says otherwise.”
“God, you’re the worst.” Aoife groans.
“I am. That’s why they brought me here and took my balls away. It was horrible. Terrifying. I looked at Rose like the cat in that castration gif.”
“Probably for the best given some of the stories Amy’s told me.”
Jenny, apparently, was exceptionally skilled in ruining her panties and leaving them for others — Amy, according to legends — to clean up. Aoife would call it disgusting if she wasn’t self-aware enough to know what her own room looked and smelled like.
“You can’t just believe everything she says.” Jenny protests.
“She’s not much of a liar, is she?”
“No. But I don’t want you to believe her, so you’re not going to.”
Aoife vaguely hears a door open in the background but ignores it.
“You can’t order me around like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not a bottom.” It’s true. She isn’t.
“That’s what a bottom would say.” Jenny grins. “Speaking of—”
“Morning.” Amy says softly, seemingly much more reserved than usual. Uncharacteristically, she’s wearing her uniform, even more uncharacteristically, she’s carrying a tray filled with breakfast items towards the table.
“She must’ve visited Eira just now.” Jenny stage-whispers. “She always gets like this when that happens.”
Amy blushes. “That’s not always the case. Sometimes I just feel like it.”
“Well then, which was it? Just that horny for a girl, or horny in general?” Jenny teases.
“I’m always horny. You know that. It’s just that sometimes I will feel subby, sometimes I will feel bratty, and other times I’ll feel like dominating someone.” Amy expins whilst pouring Jenny a gss of apple juice. “And then I’ll have like, different retionships with different people. Because I think it works best when the roles are clear.”
“What she’s saying is that she’s Eira’s little sve.”
Aoife stared at Amy in disbelief. “I didn’t think anyone could get her to— you know.”
“She’s pying it up— I’m just a good maid for her. And maybe a loyal assistant. And yes, I will do the whole, protocol thing but that’s because I like it—”
“I once saw her kissing Eira’s boots. Like proper bck leather ones.”
“You liar.” Amy protested, blushing. “She doesn’t even have boots like that.”
“Don’t ask her how she knows about every single shoe the woman owns though.”
“God. You’re the worst.” The submissive echoed, then seemed to remember something. “Oh! Happy birthday, Fifi. Enjoy your peace whilst it sts.
“You say that like it’s a threat.” Aoife mumbles, looking into her untouched weetabix.
“I’m just saying. Elle will have gotten you a present, and the st three ones I got have made me wish for like, divine judgement.” She expins. “And I don’t even want to think about what that one will have gotten you.”
“I’m the worst.” Jenny nods. “Many people have told me this today.”
“Impressive for 8 o’clock.” Amy stands around awkwardly for a second, then continues talking. “I’ve a busy day ahead, so I’ll be getting you your gift right now, if you don’t mind?”
Let’s get it over with. “Yeah, sure.”
It takes a few minutes for Amy to return, during which time Jenny manages to pressure Aoife into eating a few spoonfuls of weetabix and convince her to let Vivienne give her a makeover today. She should be extra pretty for her birthday, after all— and Jenny said a girly birthday might actually be nice, unlike being forced to interact with people who never understood who she really was.
Amy, for some reason, understood her best of all.
“Is that Alice Margatroid?” She asked for confirmation. She knew exactly which fumo it was, but she needed to seem interested and excited— which she kind of was.
“I thought Alice would be a really good fit for you. She doesn’t like talking to people, barely leaves her house, prefers to py with her dolls and she wears an adorable pink dress and blue apron. And that’s so cool! We need more autistic girl representation like her. Sometimes you just wanna do your own thing.”
“Jenny thinks otherwise.” Aoife takes the doll into her arms, a little self-conscious of how girly she’s being.
“Well, it’s, like, her job to think otherwise. Or it’s Rose’s job, but she needs to affirm it. But I’m not bound by those rules.” She grins. “I think you’re plenty cool as you are, even if I do wish you would come out more often.”
“I—” Aoife blushed, realising she was going to say something she often said but never meant. “Thank you. I love her.”
“Happy birthday Fifi.”
***
It struck Gwen how she’d never been in Eira’s office before. It’s not that they weren’t allowed to talk to her at all, but the woman had always kept a certain distance to Alice, Aoife and her that she knows for a fact does not exist for their older sisters. It’s a distance that only started to make sense once she entered the woman’s office— there’s something ominous about it.
The room is barely illuminated, at least at this time of day, with the one light that is turned on being a yellow light in the corner nearest to Eira’s desk. A sheathed longsword hangs on the wall behind the head sponsor. There’s two cabinets in the room: a more antique one for alcohol next to a portrait of Ms. Lambert, a filing cabinet straight across from it, filled with various file holders with each of their names on. There are four for Amy, three for Jenny, two for Faith and one each for the other three. The space between the cabinets is filled by a rather comfortable-looking sofa.
Her desk sits on top of a raised ptform right across from the door. It’s not raised by much, perhaps eight inches, but the effect is noticeable— most of the girls in the building would suddenly find themselves at eye level with the woman, even when she’s sitting down. It doesn’t help that she clearly has a rather tall swivel chair.
The most terrifying thing is that Amy had picked her up in Faith’s room for this meeting and then seemed to almost disappear once they had entered. Gwen knows she hasn’t — Amy is still holding her hand — but she took up an exceptionally docile, almost servile position and silently waited to be noticed.
It feels like she is in serious trouble.
She knows she isn’t. It’s a show maintained for the benefit of the fourth years, a tendency kept up for when she needs to scare that next involuntary intake into submission, or at least respect— but it’s too much.
Eira knows it is and sits down on the sofa in the corner, gesturing for Gwen to join her.
“You really overdid it on the design.” Gwen instinctively giggles in an attempt to soften the nding.
“I did.” Eira ughs with her. “The girls needed a bit of scaring sometimes. Someone has to be the ‘big bad’, so the other sponsors don’t have to be. It’s not a fun job — as much as watching Amy here squirm in her chair may have been amusing — but someone has to do it. The issue is that I can’t exactly renovate between visits. Maybe I could move the sword to be less prominent…”
“I should have expected someone here would be a sword lesbian.” Gwen tries to boost her confidence a little. Eira can’t be as scary as she makes herself out to be— the sponsors love her, as do Faith and Amy.
“Oh, they’re lovely. I did HEMA as a sport before I moved here. This sword in particur is an antique though—” She pauses for a second. “I can’t afford to ramble today. Feel free to visit another time and I’ll tell you all about it, okay?”
“Okay.” Gwen notes glumly. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Very much the opposite. Other people may be, but you are not. I needed to talk to you about something. Kelynen asked you to go talk to Alice yesterday, when Alice was… particurly spiky. You did and ended up quite hurt after that conversation. I want to thank you for what you did, as it might have helped your friend realise a few things about herself. But I must ask you to abstain from doing so in the future— that is, when directed to by a sponsor.”
“I’m sorry.” Gwen whispers. She has to fight her instincts to move away from Eira, or indeed into her arms. These are not helpful reactions to this situation.
“You don’t have to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. I know you’re still learning to stand up for yourself. Many of our girls are. It’s hard to say no sometimes— but you’ll have to learn how to. That it is okay to do so. You might still do as is requested of you, but it’s important that you know that I’ll always have your back in that.”
“Is— is Lulu in trouble?”
“She’s not. Not more than she’s created for herself, anyhow— her punishment is helping deal with the fallout from the mess that will result from today. I just don’t want any of you to get hurt. You’re here to learn to become the happy girls you always deserved to be, with sisters who love and support you. It’s the opportunity I got— it’s one that I intend to pass on to as many young women as possible. But if things get tough it’s my responsibility to help clean up. Not yours. You’re plenty busy with the manor.”
Gwen couldn’t help but giggle at that.
“If you need anything — anything — just ask Faith or Vivienne and they’ll pass it on to me, okay? Or Amy, I suppose, given she’s my personal assistant or messenger girl or whatever she’s pretending it’s about. Did you know she just slowly started acting like that? She’s read too many M/s stories on AO3 and— nevermind. I’m rambling. This is why I sometimes do the whole scary routine you know. It keeps me focused.”
“Yes… ma’am?” Gwen tried not to giggle.
“That’s my line.” Amy pouts, much to the amusement of Eira.
***
“I can’t believe you’ve all baked me a cake.” Aoife tries to force as much excitement into her voice as she can. It’s not that she isn’t grateful for all the effort that’s been put into her birthday— she’s been somewhat enjoying her day, if only because the girls seem to be respecting her space more than her parents did. But she knows she’s going to be expected to eat some of it.
“It’s the least I could do,” Kelynen tries to justify it, sees Aoife ready to contradict her, and then expins further. “I really love baking.”
That she can’t exactly argue with. A birthday is a prime opportunity to bake a cake. “Thank you so much.”
“You don’t have to—” The sponsor breaks a little. She’s been seeming nervous all day, probably linked to Alice’s disappearance and Amy being busy all day. “I know you don’t like food. You don’t have to have a slice if you don’t want to.”
She’s not going to let someone put this much effort into making her something for her birthday and then reject even trying it. It’d be cruel. “Don’t worry, I’ll have some. I can skip dinner instead.”
Rose eyes her disapprovingly.
“I’ll have a bit less at dinner instead.” Aoife corrects.
Kelynen starts cutting the cake up into ten slices, handing Aoife the first slice before continuing on to the others gathered in the room: Rose, Jenny, Vivienne, Faith and Gwen. She takes one slice for herself, then quickly delivers the remainder to the refrigerator.
They chat a bit whilst eating the cake, but nothing of much importance, not to Aoife anyhow— she’s plenty busy trying to force herself to actually eat the damn thing. It’s not particurly sugary, nor is it fatty. If anything, it seems perfectly healthy for what it is. It’s just something she feels guilty about.
She never wanted to become a big man like her father had become. Not that he’s particurly overweight. He’s just well-built. A former soldier turned roofer with the drinking habits of her grandfather, a mass of muscle, fat and rather too much chest hair he was happy to show off the few times Aoife was dragged along on a beach holiday in Spain or Italy. The idea of ending up like him has been terrifying— no matter how often Jenny insists that she needs to eat plenty if she wants to get ‘an enormous rack’.
Luckily, their attention quickly shifted from the food — which Aoife did finish, if only to avoid further chest-based comments — to the presents each of the girls had gotten for Aoife.
Jenny, naturally, decided she would be the first to go. Hers was the only one to not have been wrapped, seemingly just to stand there in the corner amongst the other gifts and set the scene for what was likely to come next.
“You’re a big girl now.” Jenny grins, handing her the box with the Hitachi Magic Wand. “You need big girl tools.”
Aoife isn’t quite sure how to respond.
“I can see you thinking. But I don’t like masturbating, not down there. I know. You don’t have to masturbate like that— it’s a multi-purpose tool. You don’t even have to use it on yourself.”
“Don’t pretend you’ve ever tried to use yours on someone else.” Rose pulls Jenny’s ear.
“You’re ruining my little show—” Jenny protests, pouting in the corner when Rose picks up her own gift.
It’s a Bhaj. It’s obviously a Bhaj. It’s tightly covered in wrapping paper, of course, because Rose is the kind of person to find that funny. She knows Aoife knows its identity but still leans into the ‘mystery’ angle.
“You think you’ve had it all figured out, but I’m sure you’ll be surprised.” She says, leaving the shark prominently on the magic wand’s box.
As Aoife unwraps the shark, she quickly notices what is so different about her: she’s been recoloured to be pink. She takes it into her arms and gives it a big hug, much to the amusement of everyone present.
“She didn’t quite like it but we made sure she was into all that pink nonsense anyhow. It’s what they’re good at—” Jenny noted, earning herself a ball of wrapping paper in the face from Rose.
“I’ll make Elle get you a pink uniform if you don’t watch out.” She says.
Jenny stuck her tongue out in response.
“Did you recolour her yourself?” Aoife asks.
“With quite a bit of help from Vivienne, yes.” Rose smiles and takes Aoife into her arms for a hug. “I hope you like her.”
“I love her.” She repeats her line for her earlier plushie. It’s no less true, though— she’s always been a fan of them.
It was Faith’s turn next, and she had perhaps the most surprising gift yet— a feather duster in pastel rainbow colours. It’s odd, because they were supposed to have any cleaning tool they’d want avaible to them already.
She recognised her confusion, though. “I know you can just get one from the supply closet. I thought you might like having your own one, though— I have one too. It’s nice to just dust sometimes? Not focusing on speed per se, but just a nice distraction for when you get stuck in your head. It works for me, so it might work for another autistic girl. You can also, like, tease people with it.”
Aoife looked at Faith for a moment. “Am I the only one here who doesn’t think I’m autistic?”
“Statistically likely.” Jenny says. “I would know. I’ve read the papers.”
“What she means is that she’s a chaser for autistic girls.” Rose pys with Jenny’s hair.
“It’d make sense?” Gwen blushes and looks away. “Maybe a few more things.”
“You’re the fourth one they did this to, don’t worry.” Faith giggles. “But you should try it out. It might help with overthinking and such.”
And then it was time for Gwen and Alice’s gift, one the former seems rather nervous giving in the first pce, making sure she closes her eyes as it’s unwrapped for her. It’s hard not to look, if only because she’s used to always being on guard around people due to the risk of being noticed and talked to. She can feel her hair being ruffled and realises just how much trouble she’s in.
She’s then led to a mirror and made to open her eyes. They’re not cat ears.
“Eevee ears? I mean, I love Eevee, they’re so cute—” She pays more attention to them and notices something else: they match her hair colour. “You had them custom made?”
“They had all these pstic ones online but we wanted something fluffy.” Gwen expins. “And we made sure we communicated your exact hair colour to the girl who made them. Do you like them?”
“Gwen—” Aoife pulls her close. “It’s great. I can’t believe you went through all that effort just for me. All of you. I don’t know why, but—”
“Because you’re worth it, Fifi.” Gwen rests her head on Aoife’s shoulder. “I wish we could be closer friends than we are.”
“I’ll try to do better.” Aoife says. “Tomorrow. I want to do it today, but…”
“Too many people?”
“Too many people. All very nice people. But too many of them.”
“Mood.” Gwen nods and takes her hand. “Let’s go for a nap.”