#and then had graduated in that time before an appointment was available :):
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accomplishment: emailed a place to ask about adhd assessment. only took me about 6 years. they should just give me the diagnosis for that alone imho
#actually that's not exactly right I also successfully emailed someone at my uni and had a pre-screen a month before end of school year#and then had graduated in that time before an appointment was available :):#I've contacted the same psychiatrist lol. she happens to be running a practice near me now and is contracted with my medical aid#anyways should probably also monitor my meds and shit#and either a confirmation or denial of the tentative bipolar would be useful#if officially diagnosed I can get additional coverage. maybe include my meds#m
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The director of special education did not show up to our IEP this week. It made the meeting a whole lot less contentious. It didn’t hurt that they assigned a much more experienced teacher to DS and our advocate showed up and kept everyone in line. Should it take that much work/effort/stress? Absolutely not! I will never understand how anyone is getting services if we cannot with all of the privileges we have personally been afforded.
DH and I talked to Ms. 6 this week. It could be worse, but it’s not great. She bought herself a car or someone else did, but it seems no one cares if she has insurance (legally required). I told her to call and get some quotes. She has not.
She has a boyfriend she met online that no one has vetted. He’s older (no idea how much older) as he has his own place. He lives three hours away in a neighboring state, but Ms. 6 couldn’t remember which city he lives in. She goes to see him on the weekends despite the fact that no one has met him or vetted him. It’s killing me! She was very vague on the details regarding what he does for a living.
Her car seems some basic repairs. Her grandpa has been a semi truck driver for decades. Hasn’t helped her with the repairs. Boyfriend is maybe some kind of mechanic but is unable to help with repairs. Mom is driving Ms. 6’s uninsured car and teaching Ms. 6 how to do donuts in it.
Ms. 6 said she applied to a PA program. When I pointed out that the PA program she applied for is a masters program (aren’t they all?) that cost $109k for the 28 month program, she seemed shocked and unimpressed. I did do a conference call with her and the high school this week to try to sort out her graduation.
Ms. 6 had knee surgery last week. I offered to be available and make the three hour drive to take her. She said her mom was taking her. The night before surgery her mom said she had to work and couldn’t take her. Grandma said she couldn’t take her because she had already take a sick day that week. Mom’s BF drove her, but apparently doesn’t like hospitals so he didn’t sit in the room and wait for Ms. 6 to be taken back to surgery. Surgery was pushed back several hours. Now mom doesn’t want to take her to the post-op appointment because the dogs have a vet appointment.
Post surgery, Ms. 6 was prescribed narcotics. Mom is an addict. Is she currently using? I have no idea but she used for at least a decade and has a conviction for cooking meth with the intent to sell. Kids were removed for many reasons including heroin use. Ms. 6 said the “oxy” isn’t managing her pain so she asked the nurse for something else AND an oxy refill. The pharmacist wouldn’t give both to mom. Mom told Ms. 6 it’s because they don’t have the same last name. I pointed out that I also don’t share the same last name as anyone in our family, and we were also recently denied a narcotic at the pharmacy. It is clear that no one that she has contact with lives in their thinking brains—they are all convinced that they are victims of one system or another.
Ms. 6 also quit her job. She said it was because they were making her do too much work.
Ms. 6 really wants contact with the other kids, particularly NB at this point. We have withheld that so far but can’t really articulate why. I think because it doesn’t feel healthy or good, and things don’t necessarily feel stable with her between DH and myself and her. I’ve talked to her a handful of times in the past month which are the first times I’ve spoken to her since she left in August. Anyone have experience in this area? Is it wrong for us to feel it out as parents before we open that relationship back up to siblings? It’s not my intention to use them as pawns, but it probably feels that way to Ms. 6. The kids here have not asked to see her, and DS and DD are actively continuing to say that they don’t want to have contact.
I’m trying to be something for her but that all feels very temporary and complicated right now. I sent her a small care package today via mail and am going to offer up some services for her like connecting her with colleges, but am trying to hold tight to a lot of boundaries at this point.
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Masters of None
A Role Reversal AU
This fic is also available on Wattpad, if you would prefer to read it there.
Summary:
What if Rhian and Rafal were young, kidnapped, Reader students and Sophie and Agatha were School Masters?
For centuries, just as it’s gone every four years on the eleventh night of the eleventh month, Sophie kidnapped two Readers, one Good, one Evil, to maintain the balance with her sister Agatha. Except this time, complications arise. The Readers in question are twin brothers, Rhian and Rafal, forcibly uprooted from their home in Gavaldon, and once at the Schools, they prove to be… rather exceptional students.
Enamored with his School placement, Rhian longs for top marks at Good. Unfortunately, his meddling brother gets in the way, plotting against their kidnappers with an aim beyond ascending to the status of Class Captain. No, Rafal connives to depose the twin School Masters and install Rhian and himself before they so much as graduate with absolutely no regard for the Pen.
Worse still, the School Masters themselves contend with their own quarrel as the Evil School Master attempts to flirt with her new Reader, uses the boy for espionage, and invites the Nevers to the Evers’ Snow Ball, all while her sister disapproves of her ploys.
Note:
This fic is not 100% chronological, but there’s a reason for that, you’ll see. Considering that I’m juggling two pairs of twins this time, nonlinear storytelling seems to work better, but you can be the judge of that.
Also, this fic is set in an AU and has a role reversal premise, so don’t expect everything to comply with canon. To align with the brothers’ original characterizations in Rise, I’ve decided to keep Rhian Good and Rafal Evil. Being Good simply fits Rhian’s initial True Love goal better.
⸻
The petty spat between Good and Evil begins.
Two sisters.
One Good.
One Evil.
Twin School Masters, Sophie and Agatha, appointed centuries ago.
Together they watch over the Endless Woods.
Together they choose the students for the School for Good and Evil.
Together they train them, teach them, prepare them for their fate.
Then, something happens.
Something unexpected.
Something powerful.
They are met with two exceptional students, twin Reader brothers, Rhian and Rafal, who hail from beyond the Woods.
Two, whose prophesied arrival in their world promises to overturn everything they know and bring about their downfall.
Yes, they’ll need to keep a close eye on them. A very close eye indeed.
That is, if the brothers aren’t already watching them, waiting to strike.
Little do they know, the twin Reader brothers they kidnapped plot to overthrow them.
Or, one in particular does.
Who will survive?
Who will rule the School?
⸻
The School Masters’ Tower, Post-Kidnapping:
A shadow flitted through the balcony balustrades of the School Masters’ tower and congealed into a blonde girl’s slight, cloaked form. She sidled up next to her twin and unclipped her cloak, letting it drop to the floor, and the two School Masters watched their incoming students rain down from the sky.
“Agatha! I had that Stymph landing pad constructed for a reason!” Sophie mewled.
Agatha continued to scrawl on sheaves of paper as she leant on the railing over the balustrades, poring over her speech. “It’s funnier when they drop into the moat,” she grouched. “Anyway, your students don’t care for cleanliness as much as you do. No one does.”
Sophie shook her head with distaste as she watched a white-haired boy get dumped into the sludgy moat. “What a shame, he looked better dry without all the dirt and grime.”
She couldn’t see his brother across the bay, but she knew they made quite the pair. “Oh, aren't they a-dor-able, Aggie?” she cooed.
Agatha shrugged without looking up. “Don’t care. They look like trouble to me. A set of Good and Evil twins is never good news. They always turn out murderous.”
“Oh, pish posh! It was one time two centuries ago. And you ruined my fur coat.”
Agatha just stared at her twin.
“Sorry. I really didn’t mean it. And you lived!” Sophie appealed.
“You didn’t mean murder,” said Agatha doubtfully.
Sophie forged ahead, avoiding the subject, “But they are rather handsome, aren't they…”
Agatha raised a brow. “They’re students.”
“So? When has that ever stopped one of my conquests?”
Agatha groaned. “Sure, go ahead. I can’t stop you. When has your love life ever gone wrong?”
“Well, I suppose the one with the vampiric accent was rather too burlesque, even for me. Not to mention that he was appallingly disgusting by the end of it,” Sophie crooned.
Agatha shook her head. When would Sophie ever learn?
“I’m glad I murdered that one though, aren’t you? He could never get my name right, the absolute creep! Always called me Sofelia or Sophonisba or Sforza. Or just lapochka when he couldn’t even be bothered to try remembering my name! I almost suspected that he preferred men with his total disinterest until, well, you know. And the red wine stench! That whole affair was catastrophic!”
“Well, I’d just appreciate it if you could drag you and the Schools out of the smoldering ruins of your romances unscathed and in one piece. That would be enough for me. And maybe, never date again, for good measure,” Agatha spoke.
“Oh, balderdash! You and your ‘Good,’” Sophie dismissed.
“I am Good,” Agatha said firmly.
“Which is code for boring,” Sophie wisped.
Agatha let the insult slide off her back like water to a duck. Sophie could be a handful oftentimes.
“Besides, that tragicomedy was ages ago. I'm over it,” Sophie maintained.
She most certainly was not.
“And yet you still hold a grudge,” Agatha pointed out.
“Well, I am Evil, aren’t I, Aggie?”
“Jury’s still out on that one.”
“What's a spot of homicide here and there? The man deserved it,” Sophie blithered on blithely.
“Sometimes, I think you still act like a venomous teenager.”
“We are teenagers. We have been for centuries. My skin is ageless. Can’t say the same about yours. You really do need to look into a proper skincare routine for that ashen complexion of yours, darling. Perhaps, I could find you a cream to remedy it.”
Agatha rolled her eyes.
“Say, what was his name?” Sophie inquired.
“Does it matter?”
“What was his name?” Sophie daintily tapped a long, taloned, bloodred nail on her delicate, dish plate-fine chin. “Ah, Vulcan!” she proclaimed triumphantly.
“That's the one,” Agatha assented. “The cad.”
“Impossible, that man! To think I ever liked him! What could I ever have seen in such a roué?”
“I don’t know. Ask the girl who built the impractical glass castle back then.”
“Natural white lighting is key to Beautification, and you’d know that if I didn’t have to teach your classes.”
Losing patience, Agatha didn’t respond and only half-listened to her twin.
Sophie prattled on, “I entered the white-haired boy’s dream the other night. His brother, the blond one, hosted a stunning masque.”
“Entered?” Agatha scoffed. “More like you invaded his dream.”
“He wore a silver mask. I danced with him in a great hall at that ball. At first, he refused to dance, and stood in the corner. I swear, he’s allergic to fun, Aggie. Nevertheless, I approached him, and convinced him to dance. He finally gave in, and I think he liked me. He kept tugging at his collar nervously.”
“How could he like you? You kidnapped him!”
“Pshaw, as if that ever stopped the best of romances!” Sophie trilled.
“For the last time, the Storian tends to exaggerate in tales!” Agatha rebuked. “And you’re delusional,” she muttered under her breath.
“Well, the Saders seem to say otherwise. And so too does The Rot.” Sophie lorded the prophecy over Agatha every chance she got.
“And you believe that insanity? That crackpot rubbish? Great. Guess I’m the only sane one left.” Agatha slunk off into another chamber, to her personal study, grumbling as she stormed off.
“It’s the free press, Agatha!” Sophie called after her. “Silver is an awfully neutral color. Maybe we could wear masks like the ones in the boy’s dream one day, if the need ever arose,” Sophie mused.
“Not another one of your hare-brained ideas…” Agatha excoriated from afar.
“Albeit, his mask was rather austere. I could have mine done up like a Fabergé egg, like it’s Carnival! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Prophecy or no, I refuse! No disguises, and no duplicity,” Agatha objected crossly.
⸻
Gavaldon, Kidnapping Night:
Rafal perched on the edge of his writing desk, swinging his legs as his brother preened in their wall mirror, fixing his hair. “How childish you are, Rhian. You can’t seriously believe in that storybook drivel?”
Rhian threw a balled-up handkerchief at Rafal which lightly thwapped Rafal in the head before it floated to the ground like a parachute. “Liars go to Hell, brother. And, I know you read them too.”
“Sure. Evil’s tales. Not the soppy ones you like.”
In truth, Rafal would never admit that the storybooks appealed to him too. Imagine the fame and glory, the absolute power he’d gain. He’d be rid of this loathsome town. If only it were true.
If he had magic in his blood, he’d train to be the greatest sorcerer of them all, of all time. If he had magic coursing through his veins, real magic, what he could do. Just imagine what he could do. Be feared. And be respected for once. Wouldn’t that be a cause for celebration?
Tyranny would suit him well. No matter if he ended up in a shallow grave by the end of it. He’d last through at least several revolts before that ever happened. Finally he’d get a chance to enjoy himself without sniveling Rhians in his way. What was the point of living if not the pursuit of power?
Rhian turned away from the mirror to confront Rafal directly. “What about Rapunzel? You seem to like her,” he posed the question abruptly. “You might have a type: fair-haired girls who inhabit towers. I’ve seen you stare at her illustrations in our storybooks.”
“I like the tower. Great architectural landmark. Would make an exceptional living space. Spartan, clean, bare. None of your fussiness. Optimal lighting for reading, if there were multiple windows. Quiet. No enemies, no threats of being burned at the stake. High security. Complete safety. Self-sufficiency. I’d trust no one. No one would ever disturb me. Don’t know why she ever wanted to leave.”
Rhian sighed. “Trust you to turn a tale of chivalric romance into another rant about why you detest all human life.”
“Not you. Yet,” Rafal clipped.
Resigned, Rhian sighed again, and said, “That’s rather reassuring. Thank you, brother. I’m honored to be in your good graces.”
Rafal looked away.
“Your marked disdain for human life, it gets sickening to live with after a while, you know,” Rhian complained. “Why, what a marvel. I’ve awoken the great Rafal’s disdain for human life. Yet again. As if it ever laid dormant. Yes, he knows he’s better than that. That’s he’s made for immortality, like all the great sorcerers. Have I guessed right?”
“You know me too well. It’s unsettling,” Rafal conceded.
Rhian stared wistfully out the window, into the starless, clouded night and the treeline beyond the edge of the village. “I just know I’m meant for a greater life. I can’t rot here any longer. My soul hungers for True Love. I was made for another world, one in which everyone finds a True Love. We’re nearly eighteen and I’ve never been kissed!”
“Not this foolish nonsense again. Magic schools of all things? Sounds like a nursery rhyme,” Rafal mocked. “I highly doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for in a fairy tale. And, if you think you will, you’re more of a simpleton than I thought. All those princes you moon over already have girls. Who’d want you?”
Rhian inhaled, hurt, trying to compose himself.
Rafal turned his back to Rhian and spoke again, this time more sincerely, quietly, “And, isn’t my love enough for you?”
Rhian did not hear him. “Just forget it,” he carped and waved a hand at Rafal dismissively. “Don’t bother. To try and understand,” he said in a raw voice, like he was about to cry. “You’ll never understand what it’s like to want more, to crave love with your very soul, in your heart of hearts. You’ll always be alone. So what does it matter?”
“Glad I’m not a weakling like you then. Spares me the pain. You’re always reliant on others, waiting for some mysterious figure to swoop in to your rescue and spirit you away,” Rafal derided Rhian expressionlessly.
In reality, Rafal’s chest pained him. His own heart and Rhian’s words bore down on him like Rhian had carved up his guts and left him, had hung him out to dry.
Maybe the Elders would have him hanged, drawn and quartered if Rhian disappeared into the Woods with no plausible explanation, gone, kidnapped. That would be the end of it. All the mawkish displays and rampant emotionalism. All the doltish crushes and puerile daydreams. Good riddance. Yet did he want his brother gone? Whisked off to Good alone, to Woods rife with death traps? Apart from Rhian’s ridiculous feelings, he was fond of him.
Rafal tried to dismiss the cutting remarks. But they persisted, echoing and echoing in his mind.
You’ll always be alone.
Rafal wished he could pluck his heart out of his body while he were still living and be done with it. No heart would be good. If he were dead, at least he’d get the chance to rest. No heart while he was still alive would be better.
Rhian broke him out of his trance. “When we wake up tomorrow morning in our own beds, in this miserable, pedestrian town, just, please don’t gloat about how you’re right like you always do, Rafal,” he managed to choke out. “It’s more than I can bear,” he admitted softly.
“I promise. It’d be my honor,” Rafal vowed
Rhian smiled at him with watery eyes and got into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.
A magical school wouldn’t be that torturous, Rafal supposed. He amended the mental image in his thoughts. It was better than being burned at the stake as a heretic before he had the chance to turn forty, or with this place’s superstitions and small minds, a demon sent straight up from the deepest, most foul depths of Hell to terrorize the townspeople.
⸻
The School for Good and Evil, Overhead at Daybreak:
Rhian dangled loosely from the skeletal bird’s talons as he lost his favorite slippers to the wooded terrain below. “I knew it, Rafal! I was right!” he crowed jubilantly, dressing gown streaming behind him.
“Yes, you’re right, but at what cost?” Rafal lashed back as the wind battered his black tunic and pajama bottoms.
The Stymph swooped downward, risking the brothers’ life and limb.
Rhian screamed as he fell into the mist.
Rafal did not.
⸻
The School Masters’ Tower, Post-Kidnapping:
Sophie glided over to her dresser and slung on a heavy, layered necklace of saltwater pearls which dipped from her collarbone to her sternum. She studied herself in the mirror as she fastened the back of the necklace, examining how it draped. “This attire needs more panache. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Quiet, Sophie. I’ve got to finish my Welcoming address,” Agatha scolded.
“Even you should update your Welcoming attire. That midnight blue cloak and riding jacket are becoming a bit passé. Look at how your coattails are fraying.”
“I just bought it a mere three decades ago!”
“Exactly. It’s tired and positively worn out. What about a nicely embroidered, paneled vest? It’d enhance your figure,” Sophie prompted with a lilt.
“Enough. I’m trying to work.”
Sophie smoothed the front of her structured, black gown, and clasped a garnet choker around her pale neck that matched her garnet-drop earrings, glinting like drops of blood to complete the look. “Would the Evil brother like this look? Does it say, come hither, prithee?”
“You’ve got to stop reading those sensationalist bodice-rippers, Sophie. They’re rotting your brain.”
“I’m not a child, Aggie.” Sophie slipped on a slight headpiece, set with faceted, jet stones. It was crowned with a single black ostrich plume that waved archly.
“You act like one at times.”
“Well, it’s not my fault that every old man wants to ravish me from my tower and ravage me. But, I think I’d stand a chance with the young man. Now, what do you think?” She struck a pose.
Agatha suppressed a sigh at Sophie’s dramatics, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. She remembered “the incident” like it was yesterday.
From what Sophie had tearfully recounted, as ever the superior raconteur despite her trauma, Vulcan had forcibly attempted to kiss Sophie and she had ended him with one, lethal, hot pink bolt to the heart.
These days, Agatha was vigilant watching over her sister, and usually acted as an escort to and fro the Schools, from one shopping destination to another, or as chaperone if it came to it and Sophie had an actual date. It was exhausting, but she was always treated as Sophie’s eternal plus-one as a return favor whenever Sophie acquired expensive restaurant reservations that promised sumptuous food. The creamy pasta dishes contented her well enough to put up with her twin’s frivolity.
“Sure, it’s very… comely,” Agatha said flatly. “But, you can’t know what’s really in his heart.”
“Nonsense! He’s Evil and princely, what more do I need to know? And Agatha?”
“Yes?” Agatha groused.
“Be a dear and fetch me a few bobby pins and my black, pearl-inlaid, swan brooch. And don’t forget to pin yours to your lapel.”
Agatha groaned this time and lackadaisically flicked a wrist to float the hair pins and brooch over to Sophie with her sorcery.
“Thank you, darling.” Sophie expertly pinned up her hair halfway and let the rest cascade down her back. Then, she sauntered over to her closet about to grab a hanger and hesitated.
“I promise I won’t spill anything on your new, fur coat this time,” Agatha reassured her.
“You'd better not.”
“Or else what? You’d have me executed?”
“I could have that arranged. It’s a designer label, Madame Zarashin, first class, white ermine. But, it’s too balmy for it today anyway.”
Agatha laughed to herself out of Sophie’s sightline.
“Oh, and do remove that tarred, screaming mandrake root you’ve stuffed beneath my mattress. It is not conducive to proper beauty sleep.” She went on primping, applying a bloodred lipstick.
“How do you know your mattress isn’t just lumpy?” Agatha retorted.
“Because, luxury brand, swan down mattresses do not screech blue murder in the small hours of the night! You could've killed me!”
“As if you haven’t tried to kill me!”
Sophie smiled thinly. “But I’m the witch! You’re not supposed to. You’re not your mother. Just toss it.”
“It was a prank! We’re immortal! I knew the worst it’d cause you is a splitting headache” Agatha griped.
“And I don’t suppose you expect me to thank you for it? Mark my words: you don’t get to disturb my sleep and vex me without getting your own comeuppance.”
“And it’d do you good to remember: no salvation for sinners,” Agatha smirked. She clomped over to Sophie’s bed, stuck a hand under the mattress, and fished out the drippy, vinegary mandrake root.
Without looking, she flung it out the window without any fuss. So much for a practical joke. Then, Agatha hurried to the sink to run her hands under the water before the chemical burn set in.
The mandrake root landed in Evil’s murky moat with a plop and its last distorted scream, splashing the white-haired boy in the eyes before it sank into the depths of the muck.
The current swept the boy under again, submerging him for another minute or two. When he broke the surface, he raged and cursed.
“What’s that?” Agatha commented, grinning. “It sounds like your students are rioting.”
“Oh, botheration! My leadership is impeccable, I’ll have you know,” Sophie huffed. “And, you’ve already forgiven me for my peccadillos. Quit hounding me and I’ll refrain from turning your life into a living Hell.”
“Too late for empty promises,” Agatha quipped. “You’d better not approach that poor boy. He’s your kidnapping victim and for all we know, he thinks the School is holding him hostage.”
Sophie blotted her lipstick. “O, la-di-da, I’ll do whatever I want.” Her teeth gleamed in the mirror.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
⸻
Evil’s Moat:
Rafal treaded the moat’s roiling waters furiously, trying to stay afloat and keep his head above it, but something nearly smacked him in the face.
He thrust the tangly, knotty thing off, and it sank with a garbled, human-like scream. It seemed to have flown out a window, deposited directly into Evil’s moat, splashing cloudy, grey water and flecks of acrid tar into his eyes.
He roared in agony and cursed the Woods, blinded by the muck that stung his eyes. His shirt adhered to his torso as he was sucked under.
Again and again, he came up, yet the turgid waters kept towing him under, by some invisible, churning current that seemed to want to swallow him whole.
Somehow, the mandrake root had risen to the surface. There it floated, washed bare, bobbing up and down as if it were taunting him.
Finally, he found his footing amidst the shallows, near the moat’s bank, and kneeled for a moment to catch his breath.
A doughy lug of a boy got ahold of his neck from behind and held him underwater.
Rafal tried to not expel all the air in his lungs in that instant as he struggled against the other boy’s grip, but it was no use. He punched blindly, knocking the boy in the teeth, casting him backwards, and gasped for breath as he surfaced.
He sloshed through the stygian waters, out onto dry shore. Heart still pounding, he collapsed in a heap of pale limbs and black clothes, sopping wet and grim.
⸻
The Theater of Tales, The Welcoming:
Dripping dingy, grey water, Rafal sat imperiously on a hard, bare bench as if he owned the place, and did not let a flicker of fear cross his features. He stared across the aisle worriedly. The Good pews were empty, save for the girls.
Had Rhian survived the fall?
The great doors flung open.
Rafal’s heart swelled.
It wasn’t Rhian. It was the twin School Masters.
His heart shriveled and sank.
The dark-haired School Master looked to be shuffling note cards of her address as she strode down the aisle with long steps.
The blonde one was peering at herself in a compact mirror as she strutted down the aisle with much aplomb, the train of her black gown skimming the floor behind her.
Rafal ignored them and kept his eyes pinned on the door. He and Rhian would be on the first Stymph out of here. Then, they could travel the Woods. If escape failed, he’d start a coup among the other students and rule the Schools himself.
Just then, Rafal felt as if he were being watched. He turned and met the piercing green eyes of the Evil School Master.
She flashed him a winning smile.
He glared back accusingly as if to say, you did this to me, and turned away brusquely.
She quickly looked away, her face scalding.
He couldn’t drop the tension in his shoulders. Where was Rhian?
The doors banged open a second time, and Rhian waltzed in with other boys, chatting up the future princes at his sides, seemingly flirting. And he was nervous by the look of it, judging by how he wrung his hands and how his face burned uncontrollably.
Rafal exhaled in relief. Rhian was alive. Hopefully, the fall out of the sky hadn’t rendered him even more of a numbskull than he already was.
Euphorically, Rhian waved at Rafal as he seated himself, and beamed beatifically.
Rafal steeled himself and forced out a crooked smile back.
Then, Rhian frowned in return. There were fingerprint-shaped bruises ringing his brother’s neck. Had some brute roughed him up?
⸻
Several Weeks Later in the Clearing, Lunchtime:
Rafal had a plan. When did he not? He just had to warn Rhian, and wring a promise out of him to not interfere, even if it had to be done under duress.
He could probably rely on Rhian to lie for him, to cover for him, if anything went wrong.
“What have you observed?” Rafal began. “We need intel on them, so we can determine their weaknesses. My plan to usurp them may not work otherwise."
“I thought you said you could be the subject of my homework,” Rhian whinged.
“Rhian. Just tell me.”
“My School Master doesn’t seem to care for appearances. At all. She doesn’t put any stock into how she looks herself. She’s very unlike her students, but oddly, it’s refreshing, I must say. It’s Good Deeds that she favors the most. She told us to Help someone in need for our homework in practicing the Rules.”
“Right then, we can kill two birds with one stone. You Help me, I benefit, and you get your blasted homework done.”
“I don’t think being an accessory to Evil counts for this assignment,” Rhian jabbed sarcastically. “Something about your warped logic isn’t holding up.”
“Come now, is Helping your own brother really so treacherous?”
“It is when he’s planning a coup,” Rhian hissed loudly.
Rafal disregarded his brother. “I think the Evil School Master seems listless, and if not listless, restless. She’s confined in her tower all day whenever she’s not teaching. Yesterday, she had floor-to-ceiling mirrors installed in every hall and complained about the ‘pestilence.’”
Rhian shuddered.
“Really, it ruins the dark, dusty atmosphere. I think she means to sterilize everything with boiling water if she can’t burn it all to the ground,” he ridiculed. “I mean, it’s not exactly what I imagined actual Evil to be like. But it’s tolerable, I guess. So, if I end up a bloated, boiled corpse, floating out in a moat dyed hot pink, you know who to blame and how to avenge me. And, disfigure her face while you’re at it.”
Rhian gaped at Rafal in abject horror.
“That was a joke,” Rafal clarified. “Or it halfway was…”
“Oh. Can’t always tell with you,” said Rhian numbly.
“Apologies, brother mine.”
Rhian sighed. “Between you and the Snow Ball, I’m at a total loss.”
“Apparently, the Nevers were invited too. New edict. I have to say I don’t know why. Yet, I’ll tell you off the record.”
Rhian restrained a laugh. “What? Imagine that. You, dancing at a ball? With a girl?”
“Yes, but the School Master gave me a task on behalf of Evil and needed an excuse when she enlisted me as a spy. She wants me to infiltrate the ball and keep tabs on her sister’s best students before the Circus.”
“You can’t be serious!”
Rafal set his jaw. “Unfortunately, I am. From her monologues, I got the gist that she does want to unify the Schools, according to the Good School Master’s plans for reducing the death rate on School grounds and lessening student-on-student hostilities. But, in doing so and appeasing her sister, she seeks to grant Evil an advantage. And, she promised to save me a dance,” he muttered.
“Isn’t that cheating?” fretted Rhian.
“Not if I don’t do my job,” Rafal said slyly.
“You’re going to defy a School Master? Rafal! Are you insane? A decision like that could cost you your life. You’ll get yourself killed!”
“Not if I kill those School Masters first. I was thinking: how would you feel if I installed us as the next School Masters?” Rafal mused pridefully.
“B-b-but, what about the Pen?” Rhian jittered. “Nonononono. You’re insane. This School is turning you insane.”
“What about the Pen? It can’t possibly be that powerful. It's a sliver of metal. And how am I any different from before? I haven’t changed,” he said simply. “You have.”
Rhian gaped, speechless for a moment. “No! I forbid you,” he flared.
“You can’t forbid me from doing anything,” Rafal seared back as he stalked off to his barren side of the Clearing, leaving Rhian bristling with unease and anger of his own.
Rhian feared he was too late to dissuade Rafal. Once his brother made up his mind, it was set and nothing could ever sway him.
He couldn’t let Rafal’s Evil ambitions carry him off to his death. There was no chance that Rafal could succeed in replacing the two most powerful beings in these Woods. But what more could he have said?
⸻
The Outskirts of the Blue Forest:
Ordinarily, Surviving Fairy Tales wouldn’t have been the worst challenge of the year, but the brothers had now failed the class for a second time. Three times and they’d suffer a fate worse than death.
Every time they had the class, Rafal had thrust himself directly in harm’s way to save Rhian, each and every time. So, naturally, he’d ended up sustaining the brunt of the Stymph scratches and procured the nineteenth spot amongst the rankings for himself.
Fervently, Rhian had insisted he could handle himself, yet Rafal had denied him the right to Defend himself because he was allegedly “incapable” and would get in the way more than he could Help by stumbling into mortal peril. Or, that’s what Rafal believed, that his brother bungled up everything he so much as touched. Thereby meaning the only solution in his mind was to not let Rhian do anything, earning his brother the twentieth rank by Rhian’s inaction, which landed Rhian in last place.
Thus, Rafal stunted Rhian’s performance and ability to cope with danger himself, and while Rhian continually ended up doing nothing, Rafal kept getting injured in the line of fire, when usually, he wouldn’t, effectively stunting his own performance at Evil as well.
Therefore, it was no surprise whatsoever to the Good School Master that she’d find them arguing on the forest floor, covered in dust, and in uniforms viciously torn to shreds, much like she and her sister did when they were young. She clearly had a lot on her hands and had to intervene before their quarrels escalated any further.
Rafal attempted to get off the ground, but found he couldn’t. His side pulsed and swole immensely due to the Stymph’s last blow. Had the impact cracked his ribs? No punctured lungs, luckily.
Meanwhile, Rhian lay across from him and gasped in pain, straining to form words.
“These accursed Schools!” Rafal spat, blood trickling down his neck.
Rhian wheezed weakly. “It’s really not that bad!” he spluttered.
“Not that bad. Not that bad! You think being attacked by a Stymph is not that bad!” Rafal flamed.
“Well, it’s typical fairy tale fare, that I could’ve handled, isn’t it?”
Rafal sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” he reproached Rhian. “Sometimes, I think I should murder you myself, so no one else can get to you.”
Rhian frowned.
A shadow loomed over them. The Good School Master.
“My office, tomorrow, one o’clock sharp. Understood?”
Obediently, the brothers nodded.
⸻
Outside the Good School Master’s Door, A Quarter to One in the Afternoon:
Anxiety constricted Rafal’s throat as he waited for Rhian.
His brother was always punctual, claimed punctuality was an integral keystone to etiquette and that arriving early signified respect for the person you were meeting with. The irony did not escape Rafal, and it struck him that Rhian may have been spurting hot air like all the rest of the Evers. And, here he was, trying to play by Rules that weren’t even relevant to his side in the least, all so he could spare them both an egregious punishment. Then again, how likely was it that the Good School Master would punish them?
It was unlike Rhian to not arrive early for their appointment. In fact, Rafal was surprised that he’d arrived first, and he’d had to slog over from Evil, and endure a lengthy conversation, in truth, more of an overblown monologue, with the Evil School Master just to secure her permission to cross Halfway Bridge. It’d taken ages to convince her to unseal the barrier.
Had something befallen Rhian on the way? Rafal narrowed his eyes at the crystal grandfather clock, which now read 12:50. Five minutes late at being early. What was the state of the Woods coming to?
Then, a blur of white swan feathers, wild, golden locks and heavy cologne bounded up to Rafal, squashing him in a hug, assaulting his senses. “Rafal!” Rhian sang joyously without letting go. “You’re here! At Good!” Rhian looked to be all mended, as good as new, Rafal thought tartly.
Rafal patted Rhian’s back stiffly, feeling exposed as he squinted at the light streaming down from the ceiling, which was entirely a skylight. The vise-like pressure on his recovering ribs was not doing them any favors. “Yes, so I am.”
Undeterred, Rhian took his brother’s lackluster response in stride. “My tailor friend sewed this doublet for me after I did him a favor! Isn’t it just spiffing? Like something a real prince would wear!”
“Sure,” Rafal crabbed. He looked all about whilst in Rhian’s grasp, fearing for his well-earned reputation. Fortunately, the halls outside the School Master’s door were vacant.
“If we have the chance, why don’t you visit the dorms with me? You could meet my Good roommates! Also, maybe you could scare Pavel of Pifflepaff Hills into giving me back my scabbard. I lent it to him weeks ago.”
“No,” Rafal said shortly, seeming exhausted. “I’ve had enough people and chatter and pomp and circumstance for one day. Or this decade. Regardless, I’d take fire and brimstone over another conversation at this point.”
“Oh… that’s fine,” Rhian said in a small voice.
Rhian seemed to have wilted at Rafal’s refusal to visit. Perhaps, he’d been too harsh.
Then, Rhian gasped and pulled back. “You’ve lost weight! I can feel your ribs! What have you been subsisting on?”
“The blood and vital organs of small children and the elderly,” Rafal rebuffed snidely.
“We’re circling back to this issue later,” Rhian pronounced firmly, taking Rafal’s cold hand in his. “No, wait, I’ll take seconds whenever I can, to bring you, and I’ll give you half of all my meals whenever I can’t.”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to feed me, Rhian,” Rafal snapped. “I can provide for myself and I’m capable of doing everything alone. Just look at how I’m topping the rankings. Though, I wouldn’t put it past my School Master to poison my food if she were merely upset with me, or slip in a love potion if she actually is dead set on winning me over, not that she ever will. I’ve had to lie low since yesterday, so I wouldn’t incur her wrath when I asked to be allowed to cross the bridge, so I could get to Good on time to see your School Master. And that’s much less than what my classmates want to do to me—they resent me for my rankings as I’m on track to becoming Class Captain, so there’s no point in trusting them either. Indeed, it may be more accurate to say they resent me for the simple fact that I’m still breathing. You of all people should know by now that, as always, it’s easier to live paranoid than anything else because anything else could bring on death. Actually, as a whole, there’s no point in depending on my damn, Storian-forsaken School at all. If I don’t end up with the run of the place, the second I graduate, I’m washing my hands of this institution.”
Rhian stilled. “Rafal! Why didn’t you tell me all this sooner? This is no laughing matter—”
“Ha,” Rafal deadpanned brazenly.
Rhian’s brother was ever the contrarian. That was one constant that would never change. Hence, he resorted to shouting. “Have you no shame? Just look at you. You’re a dead man walking. You’re half-starved. Your face is gaunt. When did you last sleep? Between taking care of me, which you don’t have to do, and nursing your School takeover plan, it’s a wonder you’re not dead! You will accept my Help when you need it.”
“Fine,” said Rafal sharply just to shut Rhian down. He had no intention of accepting Rhian’s Help. Then he caught sight of a fresh, white chrysanthemum pinned to the breast of Rhian’s immaculate, white doublet.
His own flaccid, black, Nevers’ uniform was sorely lacking and the dark shadows beneath his eyes made him look all the more funereal. “Is that a token I spy?”
Rhian nodded. “No luck though. It was a girl that gave it to me. I’ve no prospective Snow Ball dates. Not one.”
“Not even your tailor?”
“No,” Rhian moped. “He’s not that sort of fellow. Thought he was like me and got humiliated by the other boys when I asked him out. We’re still friends though.”
“You might have to take a girl then, for practicality’s sake. But don’t worry, we’ll graduate soon enough, and then you’ll have a whole Woods full of boys to chase after,” Rafal paused, “If the School Master we’re about to see doesn’t turn us into trees or rodents. And assuming that we don’t die imminently.”
“How optimistic.”
Rafal leered. “Yes, it really is my forte, isn’t it?”
Rhian grinned and shook his head. “We’re disasters.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Rhian released Rafal’s hand and took in a quavering breath.
Rafal had to get his plot back on track as soon as he could after this colossal waste of time. He turned from Rhian, who looked a bit too soppy to be all right, but they had things to do and needed to move on, so Rafal swallowed his guilt before raising a fist to knock at the School Master’s door.
BONG, the grandfather clock echoed, frightening Rhian so much as to make him jump behind Rafal.
The coward appears, Rafal thought to himself sourly.
At that exact moment, the School Master’s door swung open.
The Good School Master stood in the doorframe, raimented in golden lighting, looking as if she’d slept in her office the night prior. Her raven hair was mussed up and stuck out unbrushed and she was in the same royal blue and gold gown she’d worn the day before.
⸻
The Good School Master’s Office:
Rhian surveyed the items clustered on the Good School Master’s unfathomably, appallingly untidy desk with great curiosity and mild revulsion.
A crystal ball gleamed on a stand, set beside a high stack of unopened letters embossed with Camelot’s blue-and-gold, waxen seal. There was a golden fountain pen, a matching inkwell, a basket of candied plums, supported by a stack of the selfsame horror novels Rafal was inclined to laugh at, which Rhian never had the guts nor the mettle to read himself, a miniature oil painting of a hideous, bald, Sphinx cat, another silver-framed portrait, with the Evil School Master’s roseleaf likeness, an abundant bouquet of pink hydrangeas wrapped in satiny paper, lain on its side, and a large, glass fishbowl of Wish Fish that swirled like dappled moonlight in the clear water.
The Good School Master clicked the door shut behind the brothers, plopped down on her cushioned chair behind her desk, which was upholstered with midnight blue velvet, and swung her clump-clad feet up on top of her desk.
Rhian tried not to look aghast at this blatant breach of hosting etiquette, but his facial expression was quite telling.
Agatha smiled knowingly, plucked a candied plum out of the basket, and tossed it into her mouth, chomping on it loudly. “Care for a plum?” she asked the brothers, entirely unfazed by her Good student.
Dazed, Rhian picked one up gingerly so as not to offend the Good School Master. But, when he bit into its splendid, succulent flesh, he found that he rather liked it.
At first, Rafal resisted taking one, then he gave into his baser impulses and snatched one from the basket as well. Upon eating it, he had to admit this was the first decent food he’d had in months. And the first time he hadn’t had to worry about lead plates, poison, love potions, acid, splinters, maggots, or mold.
Perhaps, he’d have to revise his plan. It could prove advantageous not to kill this School Master.
He grabbed several more handfuls and shoved the plums into his spacious tunic pockets.
Rhian’s eyes widened and opened his mouth, about to reprimand his brother, but he decided to keep quiet, remembering their talk from earlier.
Let Rafal do what he needed to do so he could feel in control, he reminded himself.
And, again, Agatha turned a blind eye, fiddling with a letter opener, and then slicing up one of the hefty, cream-colored, Camelot envelopes with a miniature model cutlass, and at last, tossing the scraps into the wastepaper basket by her desk.
The two Evers played along to spare the young Never’s dignity.
Then, the School Master spoke first. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here today.”
Rhian smiled genteelly and nodded, trying his best to appear polite and impress the School Master.
Rafal looked vaguely unimpressed, as if the School Master were wasting his time.
“Of course, School Master Agatha. Is it because we’re awful at Surviving Fairy Tales? I fully trust that you shall deal with us mercifully, and I swear under the open heaven that I will do my utmost to improve myself and my performance in class in an upstanding manner,” Rhian piped up before Rafal could clamp his mouth shut, speaking openly with honor, lowering his head in deference to the authority in the room.
Rafal banged his head on the desk. Idiot. Who in their right mind would admit to their faults or misdeeds while not under threat of death? His own gullible dunce of a brother who was too upright for his own self-preservation, apparently.
Agatha looked surprised for a moment. “Er, well, yes.”
Head throbbing and without any other options for a more confidential discussion, Rafal spun to Rhian irritably to berate him. “Rhian! What did I tell you about obscuring our weaknesses from strangers? Now, it’s too late to put up a united front! Like all things, we were supposed to approach this appointment strategically!”
“Sorry,” Rhian mumbled, blushing. “But surely, we can trust the School Master. I believe she wouldn’t condemn us.”
“Indeed, you can. Good is nothing if not trusting and champion of the truth,” Agatha assuaged Rhian gently. “And, it’s all right. We all make mistakes.” Agatha eyed Rafal at that.
Rhian looked down at his tall, black boots, polished to a mirror-like sheen. “Yes. Thank you, School Master.”
Agatha smiled. She next appraised Rafal for a moment. “So you’re the rational one, yes?”
Wary of a trick, Rafal nodded carefully without a word.
“I’ll let you in on a secret, young Never. I know what it’s like to be in your position,” the Good School Master told Rafal. “My sister, even these days, still damsels herself whenever the mood strikes. Well, when she’s not flown into a murderous rage. So, trust me, I know. Sometimes, you have to let Rhian rely on himself. As hard as this is to hear, you can’t save him from everything.”
Rafal stared at her skeptically.
“In truth, I understand your selfless instinct although it’s rather atypical in a Never. I won’t tell you to break that streak though. That’s not in my power, even if your School beats it out of you. It’s redemptive if nothing else, and even if you choose to hone your Evil and resourcefulness, I hope you’ll retain it as I believe love can serve Evil as well as it does Good, the way it does my sister and I, even if it doesn’t always look that way. Love is a worthy cause to fight for, whatever your means may be.”
Rafal’s gaze softened and he turned his attention to the bowl of Wish Fish.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, lads, I have an interrogation I must to get to, and a sibling I must corner and lecture to about proper conduct and professionalism. And put on probation for the time being.”
The School Master picked up the bouquet of pink, cerebrum-esque hydrangeas from her desk, gathered them into her arms, and made to leave.
She raised the window sash, held her palm out, and murmured an incantation. A warm, golden glow radiated from her hand, lighting the lattice of veins down her forearm, filling the room, enveloping herself in the pure aura.
Then, delicately, she lifted one silver Wish Fish out of the bowl, away from its brothers, and stepped off the window ledge as an enormous, iridescent bubble formed around her as her mode of transport back to her tower.
But before she swept away, midnight blue cloak and all, she nodded at Rafal and glanced back at Rhian as she left, “I hope yours isn't too much trouble, Rafal. Look ahead and don’t look back. Even if you’re not on my side, I expect great deeds from you.”
And, for once Rafal smiled at someone that wasn’t Rhian.
⸻
Note:
So, I haven’t mentioned this before, but I love the trope of role reversals in general, so when I first conceived this idea, I just had to write it down in some form. Though, I didn’t want to commit to another actual longfic, apart from TOTSMOV41 at the same time, so this piece instead turned into a oneshot I banged out from the outline, and I wrote all the scenes I had in mind.
Rafal took on Midas’ role in this AU, haha! A taste of his own medicine. Serves him right. Still love him though.
And, if anyone was at all worried, there wasn’t really a true rivalry between Sophie and Agatha. Rafal just became their source of external conflict.
Thank you for reading! I’d love to get any feedback and hear your thoughts, feelings, reactions, etc., and feel free to ask any questions or tell me your concerns. I’m also willing to answer questions about what’s already written and about the future since I’m aware I exited the story rather abruptly.
Also, I’m curious: what was your favorite line(s), scene, or part?
Lastly, I try to edit with a fine-toothed comb and a sieve, usually, but if you catch any errors, please alert me to their presence!
⸻
Songs I think capture the mood:
“No Love in LA” - Palaye Royale
This song is more for a general vibe, but some lyrics do fit.
“Two Young Hearts” - Sabrina Carpenter
Seriously, this song fits so ridiculously, insanely well for Rhian and Rafal as long as it is NOT taken romantically. Actually, at some points in the lyrics, it arguably fits better with canon than with this fic.
#school for good and evil#rise of the school for good and evil#rafal#rafal mistral#rhian#rhian mistral#agatha of woods beyond#sophie of woods beyond#sge#sfgae#the school for good and evil#tsfgae#rotsge#rotsfgae#my post#my fics#my writing#narrative parallels#my aus#role reversal au#masters of none#mon
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Just a little OS i wrote based on the "Lucky Charms" theme for a discord server i'm on :)
I don't like to use "MC" or "YN" so the character is named Deirdre and she is not the HL Mc, just a normal Hogwarts student.
TW : none, it's just cuteness
"What are you doing?"
Deirdre jumped, surprised. She had been so focused on her search she had not heard Sebastian join her.
The sun was setting, she did not have a lot of time left.
"Searching for something," she answered, still focused on her task. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack but she had to find it.
Sebastian came closer and started looking. He had no idea what he was looking for, but still.
"And what are we searching for exactly?" He curiously asked.
"A clover," Deirdre simply answered, getting on her knees to take a better look at the grass.
Sebastian raised a suspicious eyebrow.
"You are looking for a clover?"
"Yep."
"And you're having trouble finding one?"
"Uh-huh"
"In a...clover field?" Sebastian was known for being quite bright and quick but he had to admit, he was kind of lost right now.
Deirdre got up, dusting her skirt before going to another patch of grass.
"It's not just any clover, I need a 4-leaf one," she explained, and she had spent her last
afternoon in Hogwarts looking for one, to no avail.
"What do you need a 4-leaf clover for?" The young man asked, now intrigued.
"Because it brings luck !" She answered him, almost annoyed he would ask such an obvious question.
The Slytherin looked at her, surprised.
"Wait, are you trying to tell me that...grass can bring you luck?" In all the books he had read over the years, he had never heard something like that, even in the dustiest volumes of the Restricted Section. "Oh wait, is this one of your "Mugglery" again?" He added.
It would make sense that Muggles and Wizards would have some differences in folklore, after all.
Deirdre looked at him, confused.
"Wait, you wizards don't believe in lucky charms?" She was back on her knees, searching.
"Of course we do," the Slytherin answered, trying to not look at his friend's skirt moving with the wind, showing her calves.
Over the 7 years they had known each other, he had seen how pretty she had become, coming from a small girl to a pretty young woman with long red hairs and freckles almost matching his.
Of course he did not imagine himself courting his best friend, ever, especially now that they had graduated yet, he… remained a man...with eyes…and she was really pretty after all…
"Unicorn hair for safe travel, golden foot mushrooms to bring wealth, these kinds of things” he recited to try and focus his mind on something else that wasn’t Deirdre crawling on all four. “But I did not know Muggles were into weed," he said with a little chuckle to tease her. "What do you even need luck for? The exams are over and you graduated with flying colors!"
"I....I have a very important appointment tomorrow and I...I'll feel better with it that's all" she tried to brush it off in a casual tone.
An important appointment? She had not told him anything about that and they shared...everything...
"Wait, does it have something to do with you asking to stay at my place tonight ?"
After the passing of his uncle and his sister a year later, Sebastian had inherited both Solomon's small home and his late parent's house in Hogsmeade.While he had started renting his uncle's house for some extra cash, he had planned to live in the family home although the thought of going back there on his own was painful. So, of
course, when Deirdre asked if she could spend a couple of days with him, he had accepted right away, not even wondering about the reasons.
In his mind, she just...did not have anywhere to go now that her parents had made it clear she was not welcome anymore since she was an adult and a witch.
On the other hand, while the house was just a 2 bedroom place, Sebastian had plenty of room to share.
"What big appointment?" He asked, looking at her a bit worriedly. It must have been quite something for her to keep it secret.
"No....nothing important," she lied.
He stopped searching for a clover and looked at her seriously.
"Come on Deirdre, it's either an important appointment or nothing, can't be both"
The young woman sighed before facing him, clearly uncomfortable.
"I....I have a job...well, rather an apprenticeship interview" she said, looking away.
"Really? Where?" The young man asked, now curious and rather excited. It was in Hogsmeade for sure, or at least in the region, which would explain the need for accommodation but there were several possibilities.
"...der..." she muttered.
"What?"
"Ollivander!" She said louder, turning red as a tomato.
Sebastian looked at her for a moment, clearly flabbergasted.
"You're...Merlin, you're serious?!"
"Yes..." Deirdre answered shyly before being smashed into a bear hug.
For the past 2 years
Sebastian had played as a Beater in the Slytherin Quidditch team and had some issues realizing how strong he had become thanks to the hours of training.
"Deirdre this....this is fucking awesome! Mr Ollivander never takes an apprentice and he chose you?! When?! How?!"
"Not...not yet!" The young woman said, trying to wiggle her way out of her friend's embrace in vain.
He was strong, but also quite heavy.
“Re…remember when we had to bring your wand there to fix it?”
“After Ominis sliced it in half…yeah…” it was still a hot topic, even two years after.
“Well Mr Ollivander said…the wands in the shop…liked me?” Sebastian looked at her, puzzled. It was well known most wands had a mind of their own but…preferences? Feelings? That was new.
“Like they wanted to see me around more often so…he offered a potential position to start as a baby wand maker”
"So this is why you want your lucky grass? To pass the interview? You don't need that, you're a brilliant witch! The old Ollivander would be crazy not to train you!"
Deirdre sighed. She knew she was a good student but this...this was a once in a lifetime chance.
"I....I can't fail that interview, Seb. It's...it's my best opportunity so far...'' She looked desperate and ready to burst into tears from the pressure she was putting on her own shoulders.
Sebastian took her hand, patting it gently."Sweetheart, you don't need a magic dandelion..."
"Clover."
"Clover to get that position." He got up, still holding her hand to help her up. "Look, how about we go to my home and you settle down and get your things ready for the interview while I prepare us a good dinner?" He suggested
"Seb, no. You have quite the big day tomorrow, you need rest!"
“Come on, it's just orientation day at St Mungos. They'll have us visit the place, give us some generic books to read before the classes start in September, nothing fancy” he said, pushing her gently back towards Hogsmeade by her shoulder "You, on the other hand, need calm, rest, and a good evening with an even better company to relax for your ‘not so big appointment’," he added with a smile. "Spending your night out looking for grass won't help, let me just take care of you tonight"
Reluctantly, she followed him.
As promised, the evening was exquisite, just like the food. She felt really relaxed after spending the evening talking about how she was planning on researching muggle's folklore to see if she might come up with new applications for wand crafting.
“No wonder…how did you say it again? The wands like you? They’re probably into weed too,” he teased her as they were doing the dishes, earning a pinch in the stomach before Deirdre kissed Sebastian's cheek on her way to Anne's old room for a good night of sleep.
When she woke up the next morning, Sebastian was already gone to Saint Mungo's but he had left her breakfast and a note on the kitchen table.
You got this! Don't forget your lucky weed.
See you tonight - S
Deirdre let out a small chuckle when she saw, right next to his signature, a small 4-leaf clover
#harry potter#hogwarts#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy game#sebastian sallow#slytherin boys#hogwarts legacy sebastian#hogwarts legacy fanfic#hogwarts legacy mc
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This is the second time our temp therapist cancelled on us.
For reference, the therapist we've been seeing was an intern who just graduated. December they did grad stuff & then had to reapply & do onboarding again. That means we had to see another intern in the meantime. We'll just use initials for privacy so let's call normal therapist K and temp therapist C.
C (she/her) is amazing at helping with depression, when she shows up. She has a lot of training on how depression is actually a trauma disorder and blew our mind when she changed our perspective on why depression does what it does. It's something one of our littles brought up in less sophisticated words. That's something for another post.
K (¿they/she? we're pretty sure & gonna ask when we get the chance) is amazing at helping us process trauma, and is extremely knowledgeable about ADHD and autism. They've been amazing at helping us realize when our disabilities are disabling us. They've also been very open to learning about D.I.D. to help us with it.
C was arranged to check in every week since mid December while K is unable to. The first check in was a phone call— totally fine, & they called us out 10mins in (“you laugh when you're uncomfortable or stressed. it's laugh or cry, ¿right?”). So we arranged an in person appointment (because the house we're in isn't safe so we prefer in person) & went to that one & it went well.
But the past 2 weeks C has called out sick, and we had to call and reschedule, but they're only available Wednesday & Thursday so we keep having to reschedule for Wed.
The problem with that is, we really really need therapy. Depression is at its worst in a while, and C-PTSD is back with a vengeance, and we're having relationship communication needs that we wanna run past a therapist, and...we just really need the fuckin appointments.
To be clear, I'm not angry at C for being sick. I'm upset because our therapy office *has other therapists*. They could assign someone else so we can get the help, and instead they called at 8am like ‘C is out of the office, call her office to reschedule’.
I decided to instead ask if K is back in the office & available. They were supposed to be available by early January. The front desk said they didn't know & sent me to the scheduling department, who didn't pick up. I left message to call me back.
Worst case scenario I have an appointment today to get medication (for ADHD & depression, hopefully) so I'll be physically in the office by 11am & can ask them then if K is back. But also. What the heck. :/
I was actually more worried it was the meds appointment being cancelled, which I had to schedule 2.5 months out. Therapy can be scheduled for the next week. But with the worry of not getting meds gone I'm still frustrated at the office for not being more considerate or helpful when I asked for other options.
I didn't get therapy just because; I really badly need it & not having an appointment every week is making me lose my mind. I have so much to unpack. It's not even that my routine is disrupted anymore. I just need someone professional to talk to before I explode, which was the point I got to before they assigned C (because 2 weeks without therapy does this to us; I'm overflowing and super not okay).
This is mostly just to get the swirling thoughts out of my system. I need to put it somewhere.
~Nico (he/they)
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Hi i'm curious mostly about the pre-surgery side of things: how did you fare with getting the process started? did you encounter any resistance/stalling from healthcare staff? did you feel like you were given adequate control over the process (f.ex. what kind of surgery would be performed and by whom), or just generally did you feel listened to and respected during the whole thing? how much did it end up costing you (i'm presuming public healthcare didn't cover the entire thing &/or you had to go at least partially private?), and what kind of payment plans were available (i.e. did you have to pre-pay or will you be billed later, are the installments reasonable, &c.)?
This is a lot of questions lol sorry, feel free to answer only partially or just whatever bits you feel cool about sharing! And thanks in advance. I can't access trans medical care in my country without going private (which is unreasonably expensive here) so I'm curious if things are any better in iceland (& if I should add 'better healthcare' to the list of reasons to move there since i already have a citizenship)
I would say the process of getting started went very smoothly for me. The first step was to contact Transteymið (the trans team) and ask to be put on a waiting list to get a gender dysphoria diagnosis. You no longer need a referral in order to contact them and can simply email them yourself. About a month after I applied I went in for my first appointment with a therapist. You have to do four appointments over the course of six months, two with a therapist and two with a psychiatrist. Due to the waiting list for hrt being so long at the moment and the fact that I was completely sure in my decision I got lucky though and they graduated me from that program after only four months.
After that they put me on the waiting list for hrt and since I said I wanted top surgery they asked if I was planning on going private or public. There are two surgeons in Iceland that do top surgery, and I knew the public one had a rather long waiting list and I could afford to go private so I opted for that instead. After that I called the private clinic to book a consultation and I got incredibly lucky because I called on a monday and they asked if I could come in to see them that thursday. I had heard from a friend that it generally took about a month or two to get a consultation so I honestly cried with joy over how quickly I was offered an appointment.
At my consultation I was examined and we immediately dicussed surgery options then. My surgeon told me I was eligible for a few different types of surgeries, and we agreed that double incision surgery would be best for me as it had the lowest complication rate and would give me more natural looking results. After checking that my referral was in I was able to book the surgery date that very same day and had no further consultations until the surgery itself, where we decided to not only do a double incision but a keyhole incision as well because I was scared of developing necrosis in case my nipple grafts didn't take. Overall my surgeon was very accommodating and professional, in the period between my consultation and the surgery itself I emailed him multiple times with various questions and he was always quick to answer. Throughout my entire process from contacting the trans team up until the surgery itself I generally did feel respected by the medical professionals treating me.
The surgery ended up costing me 195,000 ISK (~ €1,308 / $1,429 / £1,129), whereas without my referral it would have been something like 600,000 ISK (~ €4,024 / $4,395 / £3,472). I transferred the entire payment over because I could afford to do so, and as far as I'm aware of they don't offer the option to pay in installments (it must be paid in its entirety no later than 20 days before the surgery) but then again I didn't ask.
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There's a new verse going up! I'm doing the announcement and headcanon post in one for this one, so don't expect to see many posts going forward. Why? Because I'm doing this verse by request ONLY.
What does that mean? It means this verse isn't going to get starter calls, or have open starters posted for it. You seriously have to tell me you want me to answer with this AU, or that you want a starter from it, or it's not happening. That's not because I like it less, it's not because I don't want to do it either. It's because I think only a small group of people would even be interested in it in the first place and I don't want to disappoint myself throwing out lines with no bites.
If that changes and you all just eat it up? I'll look at making it generally available.
New Verse: "A Trick of the Light" (earth-65)
Currently affectionatly being called "earth-64" by me. This is going to be pulling from the comics, the spider-verse films, and headcanons. Just like all the other verses here. If you ahve any questions, please ask! So, let's talk about those headcanons...
PLEASE NOTE: this verse is going to deal with the topics of bullying, depression, and severe head injuries. If you cannot handle those topics, you'll want to stay clear.
At the last second, Peter backed out of injecting himself with the lizard serum he made. Feeling defeated, he met with Conners and confided in his teacher some of his problems, along with nearly using it on himself, before leaving the serum there and going home. At senior prom, Peter tried to brush off Harry's concerns after some of the usual bullies tracked him down before the first screams came from the gym. When he looked to see what was happening, he saw a lizard monster lashing out at students, and moments later Spider-Woman fighting it back.
Instead of dying, Peter still tried to get Spider-Woman to stop, but to stop fighting who he knew had to be Conners, as the last person to be around the lizard serum. Wanting to try and talk his teacher back down again. She didn't listen.
During the fight, part of the gym collapsed and Peter was caught under the falling debris, sustaining multiple injuries including severe head trauma. He was rushed to the hospital and was in and out of consciousness for a few days, then spent most of the next month in the hospital recovering. He barely remembers prom night and has no real memory of the week following the accident.
As a direct result of the head trauma, Peter has poor impulse control for his actions, mood swings mirroring those seen in bipolar II patients, severe headaches, can be easily confused or lose track of what's happening if multiple things are going on at once, and is even more drawn in to himself. He was in therapy for six months to try and help hime cope and learn skills to help himself with these changes. The cost of the appointments on top of the hospital bills drove him to stop going, after promising his aunt and uncle he would keep up with his medications and let them know if he thought he needed to go back.
Peter is on a mood stabilizer and a painkiller to help manage the worst of the side effects.
Jameson still uses what happened to Peter as his soap box for why Spider-Woman should be stopped. He hates it.
If anyone asks Peter if he blames Spider-Woman for what happened to him, every time he tells them no. That it was an accident and she shouldn't be blamed for something she couldn't have stopped. And yes, he still looks up to her and sees her as a hero thanks for asking.
Peter knows Gwen is Spider-Woman, he told her so when he was in the hospital.
Due to years of severe bullying, Peter suffered from depression long before the accident. It wasn't diagnosed and treated, and recognized as something he had before the injury, until he was first in therapy.
After graduating high school, Peter enrolled in ESU. He's currently majoring in both biochemistry and photography.
Whenever The Mary Janes perform, Peter goes to the shows to both support his best friend and take pictures. Any shots he gets that are good, he lets the band have to use for social media, posters, whatever they want. He's never charged them for it.
S.I.L.K still obtains the lizard serum and experiments with it, Peter is horrified when he finds out about it. He's unsure if anyone from the group knows he's the one who made it or if they assume Conners did.
Peter knows how to make a cure for the lizard serum(did anyone asked him about it? No, no of course they didn't)
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Consumer Guide / No.119 / Q & A with writer / author Greg Lansdowne, with Mark Watkins.
MW: Teenage Kicks. Tell me about some of the books, comics, records, TV and radio you enjoyed during your teenage years…
GL: The media I consumed, and enjoyed, during my formative years in the 1980s continue to shape my career – so I have a lot to thank them for. My earliest reading material were comics such as; Beano, Dandy, Buster, Whizzer and Chips, and Roy of the Rovers alongside any football magazine going in the children’s sector (Shoot! and Match being the mainstays).
From there, I graduated to publications such as World Soccer, Wisden Cricket Monthly and, when it came out in my late teens, 90 Minutes. I had a voracious appetite for magazines – and still do – so read as much as possible relating to my interests.
As far as records go, the first seven inch single I bought was, Take On Me, by a-ha. My first album was, Hunting High And Low, by a-ha. There’s obviously a pattern evolving there and I have bought every release by a-ha since (not to mention writing a book about them which was published in 2016).
Besides watching any TV coverage of football and cricket (and plenty of other sports in the ‘80s) my favourite programme was Grange Hill – an all-time classic which stands the test of time. It’s one of the few of my childhood loves that I haven’t written about... but there is still plenty of time!
With a lack of live football coverage during the ‘80s (there was far more cricket available to watch) supporters were very reliant on the radio when not attending matches. BBC Radio 2 with voices such as Peter Jones, Bryon Butler and Jimmy Armfield talking you through the games was manna from heaven.
Saturday afternoon broadcasts in London were provided by LBC in the early part of the decade (Jeff Stelling was the host for a period) before Jonathan Pearce, with a stellar list of summarisers including Bobby Moore, Terry Neill and Alan Mullery became required listening on Capital Gold Sport from the 1988-89 season onwards.
MW: What was your first football sticker book? How did this particular love eventually lead to writing three books about collecting?
GL: My first Panini sticker album was Football 79 and so began a lifetime’s love affair with football stickers (especially those by Panini). My brother, Billy, who was a professional footballer with West Ham at the time and had collected FKS stickers as a child, bought me the album and subsequent packets - getting to within one sticker of finishing the album. Although I was a little young to be taking much interest in following scores/a specific team in early 1979 I was fascinated by the badge designs, variously-hued kits and garish haircuts. I became hooked on collecting and football soon after.
MW: What football team do you support? Tell me about your first and last matches...
GL: As I mentioned above, my brother was a professional at West Ham at the time of my first Panini album and my Dad just happened to be reserve team manager - 25 years into his career as player and coach at West Ham. So you’d imagine my answer would be West Ham. Except, just a few weeks into the first season I began to take a real interest in following games (1979-80) my Dad lost his job at West Ham. Out of loyalty to him, I didn’t feel it was appropriate to support West Ham, so I had to find another team. My Mum told me my Dad had supported Arsenal as a boy so there was the solution to my problem! My first game was 4th October 1980 v Leicester (1-0 to the Arsenal!) and I started going regularly with my Dad from the mid-80s until his last game in 2014 (the FA Cup Final v Hull, a good game to finish on). By then, I had three young children to look after and my Dad preferred to follow from his armchair which is generally what I do now, though my kids allow me out to get out to watch a few times a season!
MW: If Brian Clough had been appointed England manager in 1977 instead of Ron Greenwood, what players do you think Clough’s England side would have included?
GL: As ITV4 has been showing The Big Match Revisited from 1979-80 recently it was interesting to note Brian Clough recruited both Charlie George and Stan Bowles at Nottingham Forest for periods during that season. Both were past their best by that stage but Clough was still willing to give them a chance at one of the leading clubs in Europe – no other club of that repute was willing to do the same by then. Therefore, it is likely he would have similarly given those two – and other mercurial talents – a further chance with England had he taken the job in 1977. Judging by his famous comment about Trevor Brooking ahead of the 1980 FA Cup Final (‘floats like a bee, stings like a butterfly’) it might have been less good news for the West Ham midfielder!
MW: What football rules would you like to see changed back and why?
GL: I’m not convinced the removal of the away goals rule in European club competition has been a positive move, but I guess it depends on what end of the result you are on! It can, on occasion, make teams settle for penalties in extra time rather than go for a goal.
I believe the opportunity to use five subs in a Premier League match gives the bigger clubs, with their larger squads, an unfair advantage – as if they didn’t have enough already. Just when one of the smaller clubs think they might have nicked a point, on come another couple of £30m players to potentially impact the game. If a manager can’t change a game with three subs I don’t see why he should get another couple of goes.
MW: Share your thoughts on the recent passing of Dickie Davies and John Motson?
GL: In that ‘70s/’80s era, with comparatively little TV sports coverage compared to now, you are talking about two of the biggest names of The Age.
Saturday afternoons would be spent switching between Grandstand on BBC and Dickie Davies on ITV’s World of Sport.
Then, when it came to football commentary, the three best-known were John Motson, Barry Davies and Brian Moore.
A lot of presenters/commentators these days make it ever more apparent how great the likes of Davies and Motson were at their respective jobs.
MW: What other sports do you like?
GL: In the ‘80s, I was into watching most sports (as well as football and cricket I also watched a lot of snooker, darts and tennis) but once there was wall-to-wall football and cricket available there just wasn’t enough time to devote beyond those two.
Essex CCC is my county so I was lucky to have grown up during an era when they were one of the best county cricket teams around – probably only Middlesex could contest that claim – with Graham Gooch, John Lever, Ken McEwan, Neil Foster, Derek Pringle, Keith Fletcher and many other top cricketers.
I was even luckier to then become Essex’s first ever Communications Manager in 2003, working full-time at the club for six seasons and continuing to edit their Yearbook and other publications for several years after.
I also co-wrote a book about Essex – 60 Classic Essex Matches – in 2011. I enjoyed my time working in cricket – also freelancing for the ICC and the IPL as well as publishing my own cricket magazine, dedicated to Asian cricket, in 2009-10 – and would love to get back into it again in some capacity one day.
I’m still a big fan of Essex and England but am at a stage in my life, with young kids, where it is again mostly viewed from an armchair.
MW: Day at the seaside or a countryside picnic? Pick one and describe the desired experience.
GL: Both sound appealing - but right now the thought of a quiet beach, the radio on Test Match Special and a bit of beach cricket would go down a treat. Obviously the sun is shining at the seaside, England are 300-2 and there’s a nice bottle or two on the go!
MW: Aside from writing books and features, what are your other interests?
GL: Beyond my young family, I love nostalgia – sometimes too much for my wife’s liking! – so that forms a large part of my leisure, as well as work, in terms of researching subject matter for writing books and articles. I have become a proactive part of the retro-football community by selling my books and vintage items at Fairs/Shows. The football card and shirt fan bases have grown exponentially in recent years and I think the nostalgia market in general has a potential for significant growth.
By expanding not only can that be to the financial gain of those looking to sell items but, more importantly, it can also tell the stories of sportsmen and women long forgotten by many but with so much of value to impart. I am also a big advocate of sports nostalgia as a power for good in re-engaging those suffering with dementia, depression or loneliness. Charities do exist in this sphere but there are many more people who would benefit from being integrated.
MW: Where can we find out more about you and your future plans (as currently known)?
GL: My personal website is www.greglansdowne.co.uk and I give regular updates about my current and upcoming projects on Twitter (@Panini_book) and Instagram (@greglansdowne).
Having worked on the Panini UK Football Sticker Collections 1978-85 – The Complete Albums that came out towards the end of last year, I will also be assisting Bloomsbury on the follow-up Panini UK Football Sticker Collections 1986-93 – The Complete Albums, published in October (2023).
I have two other books in the pipeline, including a player autobiography - more of which will be revealed on my social media channels in due course – and also write regularly for publications such as Backpass and Retro Pop.
I will be selling my books and other football-related memorabilia at various Football Fairs over the course of this year and beyond. It’s an exciting time to be in the football nostalgia space.
List and links to Greg Lansdowne’s books:-
Stuck On You: The Rise and Fall…and Rise of Panini Stickers
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Stuck-You-Fall-Panini-Stickers/dp/1785310062/ref=sr_1_1?
Panini Football Stickers: The Official Celebration
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Panini-Football-Stickers-Official-Celebration/dp/1472987772/ref=sr_1_2?
60 Classic Essex Matches
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Classic-Essex-Matches-Tony-Debenham/dp/0956701523/ref=sr_1_3?
Living a Fan's Adventure Tale: A-Ha in the Eyes of the Beholders
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Living-Fans-Adventure-Tale-Ha/dp/1908724382/ref=sr_1_5?
Panini UK Football Sticker Collections 1978-1985
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Panini-Football-Sticker-Collections-1978-1985/dp/1399405225/ref=sr_1_4?
Panini UK Football Sticker Collections 1986-1993 (Volume Two): 2 (Published October 2023)
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Panini-Football-Sticker-Collections-1986-1993/dp/1399405284/ref=sr_1_6?
© Mark Watkins / April 2023
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My Next Life as a Villainess OC List
Doing an OC list of my own to share and honestly, there's a lot of characters that are not particularly related to hamefura that were spawned due to this series. However, this is a list of characters that have appeared. I swear, this list would be a LOT longer if I include characters I made, but haven't written into a posted fic yet. Enjoy.
Sir Gabriel
Captain of the Royal Guard.
Close friends with King Owen and the royal family.
Has adequate Fire Magic.
Acted as the main sword tutor for the princes and Geordo's primary magic tutor.
Lost his family due to a tragic crossfire during the Battle for the Throne.
Treats the princes like his own sons.
Very relaxed and lighthearted despite his role.
Fatherly figure.
Began to tutor Katarina upon request. Due to his amusement at Geordo's reaction to the whole thing.
Used to get into a lot of crazy acts with Owen during their youth.
Note: Is one of the best swordsman in the kingdom and personally sparred with Owen on a multitude of occasions both before and after he ascended the throne. While he treats his sword tutoring to the four princes quite evenly, he has a closer bond to Geordo due to also being his appointed fire magic tutor. Can't help but tease and dote on the prince like he was if he was his own son.
Lady Stella
Head Royal Healer.
An older woman who's been around the castle since King Owen was a child.
Has powerful Light Magic.
Motherly figure, acted as both a healer and a nanny for many of the denizens of the castle.
Beyond graduating from the magic academy, not much is know about her past prior to her hiring as the head healer.
Caring but stern and tired older lady
Everyone in the royal family is still a herd of "kids" she cares for despite their mischief.
King Owen and Gabriel still fear her.
Frequently visited her due to injuries from their antics.
Wants to train Maria, but is unsure if she wants to deal with the royal family.
Has a lot of information and unsure feelings regarding the conflict for the throne, remembering the other candidates quite vividly whether she wanted to or not.
Note: The Royal Healer of the family had been in employment for a very long time, back when Owen was still a boy. She was one of the few women the former king treated with utmost respect and is one of the few light magic users in the kingdom.
Celia
Alan's primary maid.
She plans on leaving the castle sometime after Alan graduates from the magic academy.
She's been Alan's (and Geordo's) primary caretaker when he was younger and eventually ended up being the main caretaker for Geordo when the two began to get along a lot better.
One of the only maids to know about "hidden" areas and "secret" passages in the castle because Alan showed them to her.
Very kind and big sisterly.
Gets along well with Anne and helps her take care of the group when available.
Note: Celia is a talented pianist besides her role as one of the royal maids. She primarily took care of Alan and helped him with his musical talent. She has had offers for marriage before, but wanted to stay with the twins for a bit more time. She is one of the maids that interact with Anne the most whenever Katarina visits the castle.
Master Neptune
Alan's primary magic tutor
Has adequate Water Magic
Partially responsible for keeping an eye on his condition to make sure nothing major happened to him.
Worked with Sir Gabriel in the guard before as a Mage and gets along well with him.
Is more stoic and aloof compared to Gabriel, but is quite protective over his students.
He also tutored Mary when she would visit the castle.
Note: Alan's and Mary's magic tutor, Neptune is quite skilled in his trade and quite serious when it comes to how magic should and shouldn't be used. Sometimes helps Alan remember his manners but takes an additional role of being a "guard" to him and his brothers quite seriously.
Doctor Haledae
Acclaimed doctor researching MME
Well known doctor who tends to care for a lot of nobles who end up ill. Due to his speciality, has been one Alan has been seeing for a bit regarding his unique condition.
Knew a former coworker who was deeply interested in his research, but vanished after a certain incident.
Note: A kind doctor, but does have a tendency to panic whenever something too extreme occurs. However, the panic doesn't last very long. He works with Prince Alan after a certain incident to keep an eye on his condition to make sure his health doesn't sway too drastically. Both in order from Alan as well as his friends.
Doctor Barisol
Head Mortician of Socier’s nobility
Both a skilled mortician and analytic data keeper
Responsible for funerals as well as keeping record on every person who has passed
Has a fascination with dead but doesn’t wish anyone to die before they “lived their lives”
Besides Stella, is the most informed person regarding the Conflict for the Throne as a whole and it’s many “contenders” and their respective deaths.
Can’t help but draw parallels between the current princes and the former “princes” he came across. Some resemblances are more blatant than others in his mind.
Note: Baristol has always been interested in death, but ironically to an extent, hates Dark Magic more than even the royal family. Claims it's a devious deal that only steals and takes with no return.
Quartz
Artificial Human "Automaton".
Build like a ceramic doll with ball joints and hair made out of thin gemstone like fibers.
Was the result of a horrific dark magic experiment years ago.
After the death of her original creator, the rage inside her form is now absent.
Works in the Ministry as both one of Lahna Smith's subordinates as well as a helper for Prince Geoffrey.
Is roughly the size of a child, around 3-4 feet tall.
Her inorganic build is not kept secret, but not openly advertised either.
Very serious and blunt
Sometimes is asked to be an escort (publically or secretly) to Geordo and Alan.
Proficient in magic of almost all types (if element is available)
Katarina slowly tries to help her learn how to laugh.
Note: Quartz has been with the Ministry for a number of years and holds a high loyalty to Prince Geoffrey since he was the one to help her escape the control of her creator. The spirits that once filled her with hatred and desire for revenge vanished after her creator was killed.
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Where's my fucking teenage dream?
summary:
Last part of this series, two years after the events of the previous part. Logan just finished high school while Janus, Remus and Virgil have been renting a house together since they graduated. Logan decides to move in with them, but adjusting isn't so easy. Logan is ace but does feel romantic attraction (for Virgil). He doesn't know he's ace, though, so the story involves some self-questioning.
Read on AO3
Chapter 11 (last)
| First | Previous |
words: 1782
Both adults moved forward and Janus and Virgil stepped aside. They walked and stopped right in front of their son, taking in everything wrong with his appearance.
Logan studied them for a second. “I was participating in a satanic ritual, before you interrupted,” he said with a straight face. His parents weren’t even religious, but they still stared at him with a firm look of displeasure.
“You’re going to watch that attitude of yours,” his father scolded.
“I will not.”
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go home now.”
His mother grabbed him by his arm, but he pulled away. What even was that nickname? Logan had heard more of those come out of Janus’ mouth today than from his parents his whole life.
“I am not leaving.”
“God, this place smells awful. Have you been doing drugs?” His father pulled out his phone. “I think Dr. Henry won’t be available all weekend so we’ll have to wait until Monday to get an appointment for a magnetic resonance and make sure there hasn’t been any significant damage to your brain.”
He put a hand on Logan’s back and began pushing him towards the door, but once again he moved away.
“Stop touching me!”
His father did withdraw his hand but he didn’t seem to have heard Logan.
“Damn phone, I can’t find the number.”
“Hold on, I think I sent a message to him a few days ago.”
“Tell him that it’s urgent.”
“I will.” Logan’s mother was looking through her messages and sighed. “The fumes here are horrible, I am beginning to feel lightheaded,” she said with a dramatic tone that was hardly credible.
“Let’s get out of here, I’ll call the police.”
“What?!” Several of the boys’ voices exclaimed.
Logan snatched both cell phones out of their hands. That finally got them to look at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
It was only the second time the others had heard Logan swear, and the first time for his parents.
His father looked at him incredulously. “Don’t you listen? We’re taking you home.”
“You’re the ones that don’t listen. I said I’m not leaving.”
“It wasn’t a question. You’re not in your senses; those delinquents have had a bad influence on you and we must fix it.”
“‘Those delinquents’ are my friends and you’re going to stay away from them!” Logan barely had to raise his voice. He had never talked back to his parents like this before, except for the night when he left. The anger in his tone by itself was enough to show his determination. “And I am staying here.”
His mother tensed up and looked around the messy house. “After everything we’ve given you, this is how you show gratitude? Abandoning all your privileges for… for this?”
Logan’s tone softened slightly as he looked them in the eyes. “You’ve given me so much; it was thanks to that that I could get into a career I could have only dreamed of.” He looked back down at the floor. “But you wouldn’t have allowed that and I… I needed something else.”
“‘Something else’…” His mother rolled her eyes. “You have everything and you exchange it for what? Geology?”
“It’s Earth Science. The field of natural science related to the plane–”
“I just can’t believe it,” his father scoffed. “I didn’t pay for all those courses in leadership and innovation for you to be sitting your ass around staring at… at freaking dirt all day!”
“That’s not what I’m doing!”
“I don’t care what you’re doing! What are your actual career options? It’s not even an engineering degree, at least with those you can make things.”
His mother muttered to herself, “Natural scientists. I’ve seen those pretentious hippies, thinking that a PhD in fruit flies makes them smarter but they don’t even know how to dress themselves for a formal event. I mean, look at you.” She gestured at Logan. “And, for the love of God, please tell me that thing on your face is fake.”
She couldn’t get her hand close to Logan’s eyebrow piercing before he slapped it away.
“I don’t want to be an engineer. That’s the problem, you have no idea what I want, I–.”
“What you should want,” his father interrupted, “is to not waste your life away on something that won’t bring any benefits.”
“Benefits for whom? For marketing businesses like yours that prey on insecure minds to take advantage of them for money?”
“Oh, so now the problem is my job? The one that brings food to your table?”
“I know you want me to be an accountant or an economist but I can’t, there’s nothing about that system that makes any logical sense other than abusing and–”
“You wouldn’t speak like that if you had heard a single thing I’ve tried to teach you about economy–”
“I’ve listened enough!” Logan silenced his father. “Now you’re going to listen to me.”
Everyone stood still, for a moment it seemed like time had stopped. All Logan could hear was his own breathing. In and out.
“I’ve learned a lot thanks to you, and I appreciate that, so much.” It took a lot of effort to not let his voice crack. “However, I have learned more about discipline, responsibility, independence, and socializing here the past months than I ever did trapped behind a desk my entire childhood.” He took another deep breath. “Look at me.”
Both of his parents looked him in the eye. Logan almost shivered at the intense display of their hard-to-capture attention.
“This is what I want. I only ask one thing of you,” he said with his index finger lifted. “That you trust me… which is to trust yourselves, that you raised me to be intelligent enough to thrive doing whatever makes me happy.” He crossed his arms.
His father’s stern expression faltered. He looked around himself at the house. “And this… dumpster makes you happy?”
Logan nodded.
As he did, his mother took a step closer to him. Logan noticed that her eyes were now glassy. “We didn’t come earlier because we thought you’d get over your tantrum sooner. We called some of the universities that you had mentioned and figured out where you were, but we thought that you were staying in the university’s own residences. My friend Liz, the psychologist, told us we should let you cool off and wait until you came back…”
Logan didn’t dare to speak. He had never seen the stoic woman ever show a trace of emotion, not remotely like this.
“But then we were told that you weren’t at the student residences, you were at some punks’ house away from the campus. The image in my mind was awful, but…” she looked around at the other young men in the house. They all had the same wary look in their eyes her son did when she would reprimand him. They didn’t look like soulless criminals. “I’m sorry.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t think of any words.
“Please,” he whispered, “just believe me.”
“Logan,” his father said with a sneer, “if you want to study dirt and rocks so bad then… We’ll pay for your residence at the university.”
Logan looked down once again and fidgeted with his nails. “I’d like to stay here,” he hesitantly said.
“How about a generous multi-purpose allowance?” Janus suddenly intervened, earning a glare from Virgil. “What? I meant for groceries and stuff…”
“No. I can work as a professor’s assistant starting next semester and they will lighten my other classes’ workload in addition to the payment.” Logan didn’t want his parents to be able to use the money as leverage. It would take a lot more for him to really trust them.
His father shook his head, looking at the floor. “Are you sure you want this?”
“I am.”
“Fine,” he finally said, lifting the heavy weight off Logan’s shoulders. “Give me my phone back.” Seeing Logan’s hesitancy, he added, “I promise I won’t call the police.”
Logan handed it to him, then looked towards his mother.
She rolled her eyes. “I won’t, either.”
With a small smile, he gave her her phone, too.
“Let’s go, I can’t stand in this junkyard for another minute.”
They both turned around to leave. Logan walked behind them.
At the door, his mother told him that he could go back if he ever changed his mind. Logan thanked her politely, though hopefully they both knew that his conviction wouldn’t change.
As they drove off, Logan closed the door and leaned his back on it, feeling like he was about to pass out. He willed himself to stay standing, anyway. He wasn’t going to collapse in this hallway again.
The other three approached him carefully. Janus offered to prepare tea, to which Logan nodded. Virgil laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him towards the living room to sit on the couch. He sat in the middle, with Virgil to his left, Remus to his right, and Janus came to sit on the coffee table in front of them. He had made tea for Logan and himself, and brought coffee for Virgil and Remus, as well.
They stayed quiet for a minute. Virgil took one of Logan’s hands in both of his. His other hand held the warm mug close to his chest.
“Hey,” Janus suddenly broke the silence, “did you check the time?”
Confused, Logan looked at his watch. It read 00:11. December 21st. His expression lightened up with a subtle smile. “It’s past midnight.”
“That’s right, darling,” Janus said, before standing up. “I propose a toast.”
Of course he did.
Everyone stood with him, holding their drinks in front of them.
“To the only real family that I have,” Janus pointed his mug towards Logan, “and its newest legally-adult member.”
“Cheers!” They said, bringing the mugs together.
After taking a sip from his tea, Logan spoke up. “I think that’s been enough interruption. You were in the middle of something.” He nodded towards the instruments in the corner of the room.
Remus grinned. “You heard the birthday boy, let’s rock!” he gulped the last of his coffee and smashed the mug into the floor, then ran towards the drumset.
“I’ll have him clean that later,” Janus winked at Logan.
Logan smiled and put his mug down as the other two got in their positions.
They finished playing their set, then played some more. If Logan had been enjoying the music earlier, now he was reveling in every vibration of the air around him.
He was free, and he was going to do anything in his power to keep it that way.
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thank you so so much for reading!
if you liked it it would be super cool if you'd leave a comment. im just glad you enjoyed it enough to make it to the end <3
#logan sanders#sanders sides#virgil sanders#janus sanders#remus sanders#dukeceit#analogical#ts#lunas writing
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𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐔
* will now be treated as default verse for any modern interpretation.
BEGINNING
Rhea Royce was the second child to Earl and Lord of Runestone, Yorbert Royce. Born into nobility, she formally carries the tile of Lady, and was raised at House Royce's ancient ancestral keep, Burmstone Hall, in the Vale.
As a child, Rhea was thought to be boisterous and out-going, oftentimes will be seen following her older brother by two years, Brahm Royce, around. So curious and energetic she was, Rhea had taken up equestrianism (horse-riding) and hunting very quickly, having joined in on her father's hunting trips as early as she was eight years old.
House Royce, along with the Arryns, are known to spend their holidays at King’s Landing, where young Rhea and Aemma became well acquainted with the royal Targaryen children. Reports varying, though their friendship with the youngest princess of King Jaehaerys and good Queen Alysanne were said to be notably close.¹
At age ten, Brahm Royce passed away from pneumonia, leaving the Royce's siblings reduced to two: then eight-year-old Rhea and four-year-old Jovina "Joy" Royce. Their mother, devastated, followed the fate of her firstborn son two years later. Yorbert Royce remained a widower until his death.
EDUCATION
Rhea was homeschooled in Burmstone Hall until she was eleven years old. Afterwards, she was transferred to Sharra School For Girls, a private and prominent boarding school in the Vale. There, Rhea was known to actively participated in lacrosse, the debate team, chess, and joined many society the school had had to offer.
She later led Sharra School's debate team into several wins, including four on the regional level, and two on nationals. She was also appointed as the Vice Captain and later Captain of the lacrosse team during her two final years, respectively. Her teachers would later describe Lady Rhea as chivalrous, honest, surprisingly rambunctious, but an inquisitive and ambitious student.
In school, Rhea's most notable social role would be her involvement in Sharra's Highwings Club, which held fundraisers and community projects each year. In particular, she was seen leading the club's effort to raise £10,000 for a local rescued horse shelter, and was one of the constant volunteers at homeless shelters and orphan houses, aiding in the kitchen, and accompanying and reading to the children respectively.
Rhea would later graduate the boarding school as one of its top students.
At eighteen, Rhea attended Oldtown University, a prestigious university in Westeros with 16.8% acceptance rate², as opposed to attending Antlers University in the crownlands (where many of her forefathers attended), or University of Myr (where many of her noble peers at that time had attended).
In Oldtown University, the future Lady of Runestone studied politics, history and economics, alongside zoology and animal science (with a particular focus for horse and sheep caring), a personal passion her Lord father would later declare she has always had a particular interest in. In university, Rhea was said to be more academically-focused, as the only athletic involvement she maintained during that period was archery and horse-riding; both, of which, she exercised privately and during her own time.
Reports later came out that she had a brief stint in nearly joining Oldtown's kayak team, though an injury she sustained from earlier training sessions eventually derailed the interest.
Before her inevitable tie-in with the crown, Rhea took a brief summer job at Eagle's Nest Riding Stables, where she became one of the apprentices to the trainers available. Her charitable effort during her University years dwindle slightly to allow the Lady to concentrate in her studies, though she was still reported to be involved in at least one more community project hosted by Sharra's Highwings Club in aiding her sister, Joy, who was one of the Club's newest members at the time. Together, they built twenty new houses for the landslide victims of Marren's Eve, including one temporary school for young children.
Rhea would later graduate with Honors and Highest Distinction.
ENGAGEMENT
At age nineteen, an official letter has been sent by the head of the state, Queen Alysanne, formally asking Rhea to be a candidate for the second prince and heir, Daaemon's, future Duke of Dragonstone, fiancé. Formally invited, Rhea spent the next few months back-and-forth from the palace to consolidate the potential engagement.
The news of the arrangement was somehow leaked. Within a week, Rhea rose from being a generally unknown individual, to the most observed woman in all of Westeros.
Though the attention she received was unexpected, insistent, and sometimes verging on the line of harassment, the Lady was well-received by the public for the graciousness she'd shown, and her known activism in volunteerism. (Read: she had no scandals to speak of.)
It was made very clear however that the engagement (and, if the plot arrives here: the subsequent marriage) was ill-matched for the journalists and tabloids began exposing the prince's mistreatment, and reports of affairs began to circulate³.
Footnotes: ¹ This detail, of course, varies with each interpretation I am writing with; in my defence, I am an advocate that Gael would've loved playing with Aemma and Rhea when they were all children. I do not speak for Viserys and Daemon, though. ² Any school or universities mentioned are not presently real within the book or TV context, and these details are purely headcanon-based. Therefore, this too, is free to be adapted with each portrayal(s) I am writing with. ³ This was meant to be read as an outsider's point-of-view of the royal gossip while skimming Rhea's brief biography. Generally, I will go with the narrative that Rhea was not fully welcomed as the Prince's fiancé by the Prince himself despite her celebrated reputation. But again, this does not have to apply if you are writing Daaemon.
DETAILS
In this verse, the Targaryaens are the royal family of Westeros, a constitutional form of government by which a hereditary sovereign reigns as the head of state. Think: British royal family, but the Westerosi version and, once upon a time ago, they owned dragons. Those do not exist anymore⁴, and the skeletal remains of the dragons are now being well-preserved and studied; a research funded personally and privately by the royal family.
I do have it in my interpretation that Otto was the Prime Minister during Visaerys' early reign, though he was out-voted from the office by Lyonel Strong at certain point.⁵
Footnotes: ⁴ ⁵ All very interchangeable details. Once again, if you have already had a certain interpretation of this modern royalty AU, I am more than willing to adapt to yours!!
please do not reblog!!
#VERSE: MODERN ROYALTY AU.#ok imma change this to my default modern verse now unless someone has a different verse for modern#ALSO DID I SPEND AN HOUR DOING THIS? YES#i cannot for the love of me write wiki-like words dude#it killed me. i swear#and yes. rhea is ? crazy athletic#like i wish i could speak more abt who she is modern-wise#bc shes actually a very quiet person!!!!#but naaaaaaah i dont wanna ramble abt it anymore#maybe some other time!!#long post //
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Wild looking at the difference in Mary from various winters in different boarding situations.
Top photo is from the Jan of 2018 at CBCF, and Mary had been at that farm since Jan 2017. I had moved her from the previous barn, MHF, after she lost a ton of weight and developed quite a few health issues because of how poorly managed the farm was. One of Mary's old pasture mates, Dreamy, owned by the farm owners, essentially starved to death, after they bred her and didn't provide any forage. She wasted away to nothing, and died days after having her foal because she was so malnourished. So I moved Mary to CBCF, and she thrived there for a while. However, that didn't last, as the owners of CBCF had only owned the farm for a few months before I moved Mary there. The farm was well maintained by the previous owners, so the quality pasture was inherited. The second photo is still at CBCF, but in Jan of 2019. By that point, the farm owners had done nothing to maintain the pastures since purchasing the farm, and the grass had been taken over almost entirely by weeds and mud. The hay, when they actually fed it, was low quality and filled with foxtails. I spent months arguing with them, trying to bring in my own hay, move Mary into a better pasture, ect, before I realized any promises from them were empty and there would be no changes. In February of 2019, the farm owner's personal horse died from colic, likely because there was no forage available in her pasture. The horse had been nicknamed Skeletor by the other boarders, because she had continuously lost weight because the owners went days without feeding her.
I moved Mary to TWRD, which was a private farm that was essentially a retired couple's hobby farm. I loved this farm, and Mary's care was excellent. The pastures were mowed and weeded regularly, and they kept a strict ratio of how many horses could be in the pasture so that it wasn't overgrazed. The third photo is from there, taken in Jan of 2020. They didn't feed a lot of hay in the winter, but there was always some amount of grass available, no matter the season, because of how well it was maintained. Mary stayed fat and happy at this barn, and I would probably still have her there to this day if I hadn't moved after graduation. The owners did not have any personal horses, and no horses died while I was there.
Mary and I moved in Jan of 2021 to a new city, and thus a new barn, Ohboro farm. Photo 4 is from Jan 2021, and when Mary had only been at Ohboro for a few days, coming from the very nice TWRD. I've pretty well documented the issues I had with this farm, but like MHF, it was another farm that I was paying to feed my horse, that wasn't and was lying about it the whole time. Photo 5 is March of 2021, and you can tell Mary had lost a significant amount of weight in just those short months. After months of vet appointments trying to figure out what was going on with Mary, I finally caught that farm in the lies about feeding. They had stopped haying in January, and were feeding my supplied grain and hay pellets to their own horses, and not Mary. Since I've left, they've had multiple horses die or almost die. One horse had to have exploratory surgery, and they discovered he had a giant mass of gravel and asphalt in his gut because he had been starved and was eating and anything he possibly could. Another horse died in the pasture for "unknown" reasons, and was only found multiple days later by another boarder, not the barn staff, and had been partially eaten by coyotes at that point.
I had learned my lesson by that point that once you find the red flags, the only option is to get out as soon as possible, so I moved Mary once again, this time to HBFarm. This barn wasn't perfect, but was generally okay. An excellent barn in the summer, there was plenty of grass and the staff was incredibly consistent with grain feedings, Mary did really well there. However, they definitely followed the philosophy of over blanketing to compensate for low amounts of hay in the winter, and just thought you should add fat supplements and up the grain significantly. Mary wasn't terribly skinny in photo 6, taken Jan 2022, but thinner than I would have liked. It made me nervous, that's for sure, but there weren't really any other good boarding options in the area, and there were other aspects I really liked about the care at this barn, so I made due by feeding hay pellets myself as much as I could manage in a week. Horses at this farm definitely developed anxiety behaviors during the winters and lots showed stereotypical signs of ulcers, no deaths or colics though.
I honestly probably would have stayed at that barn and just spent the winters on edge, other than the fact that we finally purchased our own land this past fall. Mary moved to my backyard this November, and had been on free choice grass hay since day 1. I've blanketed her for 2 days total since then, and have only been feeding hay pellets as training treats or on the occasional snow day to increase water intake. She's on the same small grain ration she stays on during the summer. Photo 7 was taken a few days ago, January 2023.
Anyways, this was a giant post to say its wild how much the management styles at different places affected Mary's body shape. It became super obvious which operations were just milking every last drop of profit at the horses expense, those that were doing it out of love and joy for the horses, and those in the middle. TBs are such a mirror of a breed, they show their cards right on the surface.
#names of farms arent real names btw#just what i've previously tagged them as#feed your horses hay you cheapskates#mary#body condition#transformation#MHF#CBCF#TWRD#Ohborofarm#HBfarm#hobby farm
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Pandit Gopabandhu Das was born on 9 October 1877 in Suando village in the district of Puri to Daitari Dash and Swarnamayee Devi. He had his early education in his village school and in Rupdeipur Minor school. Thereafter he went to Puri Zila School where he passed the Entrance examination in 1899. Then he came to Cuttack and took admitted to Ravenshaw College and completed his graduation in 1904. Though he took admitted in both post-graduation and Law in Calcutta, he could not continue his post-graduation but completed the law degree only. He first joined as a headmaster in Nilagiri High School but thereafter came to Cuttack to start his law business there and in Puri. For some time he was also appointed as a pleader for the state of Mayurbhanj but quit the job to make himself available full time for political activities and social work. Considering education to be the potential instrument of national development he wanted to prepare the youths with sterling qualities of head, heart, and hand. He, therefore, started a school in Satyabadi in line with ancient Gurukul tradition which became a National School during the non-cooperation movement. Though his actual goal was a separate state of Odisha he merged that movement with congress’ non-cooperation program. Thus all the members of Satyabadi joined congress which became the hotbed of the non-cooperation movement in Odisha. In fact, the branches of Satyabadi National school were opened in Sambalpur, Chakradharpur, and Bahadagoda where its members Nilakantha Das, Godavarish Mishra, and Krupasindhu Mishra went to spread the message of non-cooperation with the objective of imparting such education which would make the student a complete human being inculcated with the true spirit of nationalism. He was the President of the Orissa Congress Committee from 1920 to 1928. After the suspension of the non-cooperation movement, he was arrested in 1922 and lodged in Hazaribagh jail for two years. But after his release in 1924, he started the campaign to spread the message of charkha and other constructive programs of Congress. At the request of Lala Lajpat Rai, he joined the Servant of Peoples Society and implemented its various programs. With the encouragement and sponsorship of Hindu Mahasabha, he also opened a widow rehabilitation center in Puri, besides campaigning against untouchability in the Hindu Society. Since spreading the message of independence and other constructive programs of Congress were the cardinal objectives of his activities he, therefore, chose the idea of educating the people through journals and newspapers for which he set up a press and introduced the weekly newspapers ‘The Samaj’ and ‘ Satyabadi’ to arouse the people through criticism to government. As a true Gandhian Gopabandhu not only dreamt of an India free from the yoke of the British government but also from the oppression of zamindars and Rajas. He seriously took up the cause of the peasant revolts in Kanika in the twenties against their king and extended his moral support to them for which he earned the wrath of the Raja of Kanika. Devoting his entire life and wealth to the service of the people and the cause of independence he fell ill and died at the age of 51 on 17 June 1928. Before his death, he is a will handed over his press and ‘ The Samaj’ to Servant of Peoples Society and wished its profit to be used for the welfare of the people.
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My fun thanksgiving week:
So, on Thursday, I started noticing pressure sensitive itching ALL over. Which is super cool because scratching makes it INSTANTLY TEN TIMES WORSE.
On Friday I called out of work because I felt not only itchy but also generally awful. Now I don't know if I got exposed to a little virus and that upset my immune system or if my immune system was so upset it just took me out, but either way I was suddenly sick and had to call out of work.
Half an hour later, my boss called to yell at me for calling out with no coverage available and said unless I could get coverage for the next day I had to be there.
So itching everywhere and feeling like death, unwashed and in my sweats and slippers, I drove to the city and made it two hours into my shift Saturday before I felt so awful I couldn't go on and broke down crying and my coworkers sent me home. I went home to try to sleep and the itching was so bad I couldn't even relax and I took myself over to the ER and they gave me some low dose Prednisone and stronger Benadryl.
I went home and spent the next three days mostly in bed itching (like my skin was on FIRE, mind you), and trying to sleep through the itching. I had no appetite and have royally screwed up my SSRIs which is a fun adventure for next week me to deal with.
Here are some fun pictures of my itchy blotchy skin:
A lot of those aren't from scratching, despite looking like it. List from the soft waistband of my pants or...um...air, I guess. 🙄
Anyway, went BACK to urgent care yesterday and got a DIFFERENT antihistamine and a stronger graduated course of prednisone that I started this morning. I managed to eat about 1/4 of a bowl of phô yesterday! AND a few bites of bread!
(I keep wondering why I'm so week and shaky and then remember I basically didn't eat for 4 or 5 days. I lost about 5 pounds between my ER visit on Saturday night and my urgent care appointment Wednesday morning)
This is me this morning before my new high prednisone dose, after a shower - hot water really brings out those histamines but it is NOVEMBER and I am not taking a cool shower.
This is so fun!
Anyway, usually on Thanksgiving, my friends and I do an adventure day but this year I will just be dropping by my mom's friendsgiving, briefly, IF I have the energy.
Anyway, still pretty itchy but I think the steroids ARE kicking in. 🤞🤞🤞🤞
This is so fun
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Good morning from a sunny Bar-sur-Aube, it is currently 15c and we are due 27c so it looks as if some time sitting in the garden is on the cards for today.
Joy of joys, my new cleaner arrived on Monday and I was blown away by the amount of work she got through in the time she was here. This lady ran rings round the lady I had been paying to clean my home. She returned on Thursday to clean the downstairs, she worked really hard washing windows, washing floors etc and ran out of time so the kitchen will be tackled on Monday. She actually moved furniture to clean underneath, unlike the other lady who just mopped around the furniture. I do think this new lady is a god send!
Wednesday saw me out of bed before the birds woke up. I was going to the hospital for my PET scan and it was all completed in two hours but with the hour journey home I was desperate for some food. By the time I ate I was breaking my fast after 16 hours 😳.
I was going a bit “stir crazy” being in my own little bubble. I felt as if I had lost contact with the outside world, so I contacted my nurse at the hospital and I asked if it was ok for me to drive. He said it was fine as long as I didn’t drive too fast. Hey I am that grand-mere and I drive like a grand-mere so no speeding for me. I took the car to the supermarket (not too far away) and I wondered around picking up some different foods. It was great to be back in the land of the living. Yesterday I took the car into town as I needed some medication, I parked up by the river and had a little walk to take the photos on here today.
On Friday it was my appointment with the oncologist. My appointment was 16:15 and I got in to see him at 18:00! The news was good and I go back to see him on the 3rd November. Another day when I was ravenous by the time I arrived home at 20:00.
I was very laid back about my appointment, after all I had the treatment and there was nothing I could do to influence the outcome, I didn’t really give a thought that my sons were anxious for the results. I had promised to let them know as soon as I knew. Imagine my surprise when my youngest son said he had been worried, all day, that the treatment hadn’t worked and that all I had been through since May had been unsuccessful. He was so happy when he knew that it was good news. My eldest son had made sure he was kept busy, firstly visiting his Aunt and then taking his children out for tea, so that he was “occupied” rather than just waiting for my message.
So to this weeks two songs that have touched me in one way or another. Firstly, back to 1979, a song by Elkie Brooks “The Runaway”.
Then to 1994, in my mind a brilliant song by Youssou N’Dour, 7 seconds featuring Neneh Cherry.
As I have said before if you don’t know these songs take time to listen to them in full and see what you think.
This week it has been confirmed that the Tour de France (Men) will include a stage Troyes to Troyes . Stage 9 taking place on July 7 will see the male cyclists coming through the Aube département. It will be 7 years since they last visited the département and I for one will be hoping that they come through Bar-dur-Aube yet again.
My gorgeous grandchildren are spending the weekend with “The Daddy”, they went to an all you can eat buffet and it is such a joy to hear that the two year old was asking for such lovely items to be put on his plate. He got a surprise with Chinese noodles and to be honest he loved them so much.
“The Trainee Solicitor” did some cooking last week, something he is very good at. He made chicken fajitas one evening and meatballs in tomato sauce with spaghetti another evening. “The Ex-Graduate” claims she can’t cook too well but served up a lovely chicken curry one evening. It’s great to hear that they are sharing the cooking and eating well.
As for me, I have got a little of my taste back but I am still dreaming of foods that are not available to me yet 😩.
Monique had been to Paris looking after her grandchildren, Anie returned from her sisters home but hasn’t been to see me as she has bronchitis. Lots of people have messaged me but as I had been rather busy myself last week I didn’t have any visitors.
Oh yes! My “usual” plumber turned up at my house (presumably to service my boiler) I saw him as he was leaving but the following morning he arrived about 9:30. I told him I had arranged for another plumber to do the service. My messages to him asked for an appointment, it’s no good just turning up when he has a spare hour. He was quite surprised but if he hadn’t the decency to ring or message me then what was I supposed to do, just sit and wait hoping he would turn up?
I regularly read that cases of Covid are on the rise again, so take care out there and if you are offered the jab, take it. I can’t have mine until March time but I won’t be putting myself amongst large groups of people for some time to come and people coming to my home need to be masked up.
On that note, I will leave you until next week. Prends soin de toi et à bientôt.
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so i don't forget
072323
was woken up by my brother around 3am-ish because he needed some gcash money. was so out of it but i made it to opening the app then handed it to my brother so he could do it himself. fell asleep again as soon as i gave it to him.
woke up again at around 8:30 in the morning, this time with a throbbing headache. became paranoid as i thought it was a sign of tetanus. (i forgot that i drank a whole glass of calpis sour the night before and wasn't able to drink loads of water when i got home)
messaged wellpoint dasma to ask if they have an anti-tetanus vaccine. they do.
took a bath and went to sm dasma for it only for the receptionist to tell me that there isn't one readily available and that i need to make an appointment for that. besides that, the consultation prior to the shot plus the shot isn't covered by the HMO.
went to eat at OMG, a new greek resto place which i have been wanting to try since a few weeks ago. got calamari with rice, lamb kofta wrap, and hot chips. mmm i think it's a 7/10 for me. there was nothing special about the hot chips and the serving size was so small. calamari with rice is okay, just wish they'd given more sauce. lamb kofta wrap was good. it's lamb that's why i'd understand why it was priced more expensive than the others. again, more sauce. would try more of the food next time. but for now i would say that it isn't something i would crave after a long day at work.
went to withdraw money at a bdo atm machine. money in the bank is at 800+ php na lang. i need to cut off grab expenses na and not indulge myself lagi with food even tho it's one of the only things that make me happy.
went to krispy kreme to buy the barbie donuts. only bought one of each to try then we'll buy half a dozen next time na lang.
went to auntie anne's because i was craving something oily for the hangover headache and aura. i also bought their iced americano and agreed with sugar when they offered if i would want some milk and sugar with it. oily food plus coffee was the cure for today's hangover. could never go wrong with their pepperoni nuggets. the coffee was good initially but then the ice watered it down too much. maybe i could request another espresso shot with it the next time i buy one.
went to kipling to check out the bags. planning to save up for a bag to buy for mom's bday or as a christmas present. there's another bag there which i think is sulit for it's price. there's another one which i fancied hehe.
went back to wellpoint to follow-up with the vaccine. receptionist told me that it would be available next week but the doctor said that i could buy one at the drugstore then they'll be the one to inject it na lang. i had one more inquiry but it was taking so long so i just left my number for the receptionist to contact me. (received a message past 6pm na)
almost forgot to buy clifford's birthday cake otw home so i had my sister park again while i went back to buy his cake.
went home and chilled.
played a bit of minecraft. i was thinking of making an automatic tree cutter as cutting down cherry blossom trees over and over again was getting tiring. need to go mining for some redstone next time.
a notif popped on my screen for a vtuber graduation and i was sad to see that it was mysta. it's hurts but i am at peace with it knowing how much he has achieved for himself and for his mom. i'm so proud of him. thank you mysta.
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