#and then had graduated in that time before an appointment was available :):

[autogeneity]

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

[sugugasm]

. ༉‧₊ 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄

✧ synopsis : after almost a decade of a healthy marriage, four kids, and a stressful bakery opening, you and toji have learned to take your alone time very seriously.

✧ tags : firefighter! toji + baker! reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, blk fem reader ofc, mentions of alcohol, public sex ?? in the car, mentions of vaginal penetration, cowgirl, pet names like bby, love, pretty, mama bc yall already know etc, excuse any errors. i wrote this in a few different povs at first so — 𝟓.𝟖𝐊 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 smiles as he pulls into his driveway, the familiar cacophony of squeals and thuds greeting him before he’d even opened the door - the kiddos must’ve been riding the after dinner sugar high. cheerfully shaking his head, he braced himself for the chaos and noise that awaited inside your now shared, cozy little place the two of you have grown to call home.

it’d been nearly six years since that fateful summer when you’d quite literally swept into his life like a swirl of sunshine and baked goods. six years of dizzying ups and downs, laughter and tears, the most intense love he’d ever known to face. sometimes it still didn’t feel real, even now - this life you’d built from the spark of simple flirting over sweets n’ crème brulee.

so much had happened in that span of adventures : you, graduating at the top of your culinary class, your desserts and pastries that you’d stressed so hard about being the toast of the competition circuit. toji retiring as lieutenant of the fire department after over a decade of service, not daring to miss out on any more milestones as the two of you started your family. not to mention the whirlwind of wedding plans, and then the magical day itself where you vowed forever to each other in front of family and friends.

then the true blessings had come along, one right after the other - megumi, who was still adjusting to the new family dynamic of it all, but was yet so proud of his father. little rascally rose, a firecracker just like her mama with the same bright eyes and full curls. goofy, tender-hearted kenji who practically worshipped his big brother and sister, wanting nothing more than to mimic their every move and be just like his papa. and finally malachai, the happy surprise baby who seemed to have inherited the best of both his parents’ feisty personalities.

toji wouldn’t trade this beautiful chaos for anything in the world. but he’d be lying if he said the constant juggling act of family life wasn’t difficult - for the both of you. it was rare for you guys to get a real moment alone together, just the two of you. your intimacy had cooled down amidst all the lovely distractions, as had the simple art of conversation beyond trading information about grocery lists and pediatrician appointments.

date nights had become a long forgotten luxury, almost seemingly impossible to coordinate when your trusted babysitters were your siblings with families of their own. but tonight, uncle satoru had stepped up and volunteered his services, giving toji and you a well overdue opportunity to reconnect.

toji unbuckles his seatbelt and exited the truck, tamping down a flutter of nerves. what if the easy rhythm and sizzling chemistry you’d once shared was gone for good? a victim of sleep deprivation and chicken nugget overdoses? what if it was too late to rekindle that spark?

pushing open the front door, he was immediately swamped by a tiny army of squirming, chattering bodies. “papa, papa, papa!” rose seized his hand and tugged insistently. “you gotta’ see the cool fort we built! kenji made it super big this time!”

“we’ll show ya, dad!” kenji crowed, already streaking towards the living room, malachai hot on his heels with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“hold up there, you lil’ tornados,” toji called in vain, being unceremoniously dragged by his giggling daughter into the chaos. every available pillow, cushion, and blanket had been appropriated to create an elaborate tent city surrounded by toys and stuffed animals . . and gojo sat smack in the middle of it all, long legs splayed out as he played some kind of intricate make believe game with the two boys.

“baby, you’re home!” you swept in from the kitchen, wisps of hair escaping your messy bun and face flushed from exertion. you were wearing a cute pink sundress that struck a nostalgic chord in toji’s memory - you’ve had it for years, one of his favorite things to slowly peel off of your shoulders after a night out to be exact. “thank goodness. i was startin’ to think i’d have to call backup.”

you stand on your tippy toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, and just like that, his weariness evaporated as if by magic. your familiar floral scent, your soft warmth, the kids’ laughter surrounding him - this moment of serenipity in the midst of routinely chaos bringing a lump to his throat.

“not a chance,” he rumbled, sliding an arm around your waist. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world.” downy goosebumps erupted down your arms at his words, flustering deeply. awe, his voice still got you going after all this time. good to know. very good to know. “y’all holdin’ down the fort?”

“y’know how it is,” you reply with a gentle squeeze of his hand, watching in fond exasperation as rose ordered poor gojo to lie down so kenji could perform his ‘very important surgery.’ “satoru took his role a lil’ too seriously this time and got lost in their games.”

you stood together watching for a few moments, the kids pausing just long enough to acknowledge toji’s presence again before diving back into their shenanigans. it was all so beautifully vibrant and alive, the little people you created and who brought such joy, such richness and meaning to your lives. but still . . . toji felt the undeniable tug of wanting you all to himself. just for a few hours at least. he wanted to bask in your undivided attention. to remember what it felt like to not share you with anyone else.

you must have picked up on his restlessness, your eyelids drifting shut as he stroked the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “soon as we get back, m’ cravin’ some peace n’ quiet. maybe a hot soak in the tub after all this madness.” your tone was light and casual, but the smoldering undertone was unmistakable.

toji found himself swallowing reflexively as his skin prickled with awakening interest. “is that a promise, mama?” he murmured gruffly, not even trying to hide the roughness in his voice.

you peeked up at him through long lashes, a smile curving on your lips. “mm . . . you should know this by now. m’ a girl who keeps her promises.” burying any further suggestive replies, you cleared your throat and turned to gojo, who’d been buried under a pile of stuffed teddy bears. “alright babies, mama n’ daddy gotta’ go for a bit. gumi’s at a friend’s place, and there’s dinner in the fridge if you guys get hungry — so pretty please be good for your uncle gojo, y’hear?”

a chorus of whines follow after your words, but the kids were quickly distracted again by the siren song of more roughhousing. rose blew toji an exaggerated kiss while kenji and malachai paid both of you absolutely no mind whatsoever, already wrestling in a tangle of small limbs. gojo simply shot you a weary thumbs up from beneath his plush prison, glasses askew and hair wild as toji fought the urge to chuckle, “have fun you two. keep me posted, and please for the love of god - quit knockin’ her up, toji. i’m being attacked by three little rascals and it’s just absolutely absurd,” he jokes.

“i don’t make promises i can’t keep, satoru.”

you fished your purse and sweater from the hall closet while toji hovered close, drinking in every detail of you. suddenly he was struck by the profound urge to pull you in close and just breathe nothing but you, to lose himself in the familiar softness and strength of your embrace. but he restrained himself with an effort. all too soon they’d be able to indulge that craving for closeness, he reminded himself as you linked your fingers through his.

with a final wave to the kids and fond shake of his head at gojo’s predicament, toji guided you to the car. the simple act of opening your door and helping you in was enough to set his pulse racing, anticipation crackling in the air as your fingers tangled briefly together. electric from even the most innocent of contact.

by the time he’d slid behind the wheel, he felt ten years younger, energized by the promise of this evening alone with the woman he loved. as toji pulled out of the driveway, you were already reaching for the radio to cue up one of your old playlists, humming along contentedly as warm twilight spilled through the windows. toji cuts you an affectionate glance and reaches over to squeeze your knee - a brief, cherished moment before the magic began.

he couldn’t wait to see where it all would lead.

“so where we headed, hot stuff?” you asked, eyes sparkling with mischief as she toyed with the ends of her hair. “hopefully somewhere without a soft play area and a kids meal if y’know what i mean.”

toji snorted, distracted for a second by the way the skirt of her sundress rode up her thighs as she shifted in the passenger seat. “nah, no funzones tonight. but i can think of a few things i’d like to play with though.”

his suggestive drawl was rewarded with a scandalized laugh and playful swat to his shoulder. “you’re so gross, babe.” your eyes twinkle with amusement before flickering to the darkening sky outside. “seriously though . . . surprise me? i wanna’ be wooed. s’ been too long since you’ve had the chance to take me out. we used to do it all the time.”

kissing away the pout on your lips and squeezing your knee again, toji grinned crookedly. “i know, baby. tonight will be one to remember - i swear.”

true to his word, he bypassed all the usual dining spots they frequented as a family, instead guiding you to a cozy trattoria tucked away on a quiet cobblestone street you didn’t even know existed. he pulled up in front and turned to gauge your reaction, smile widening at the look of surprise and delight on your lovely face.

“bambolino’s?” you exclaimed, craning your neck to peer through the warmly lit windows. “toji, this place is famous! i swear geto raves about their stuffed shells every time he comes over . . like they’re life changing or something!”

“nothin’s better than your cookin’ so we’ll see. m’ a tough crowd to please.” chuckling, he cut the engine and climbed out to open your door, and you hopped out with a charming little shimmy of your hips, curls bouncing around your shoulders now. toji quite literally had to bite back a groan as images of sweeping you up onto the hood and hiking that dress up around your waist flooded his mind unbidden.

jesus, dude. maybe he felt a little too hot n’ bothered. this was a night to reconnect emotionally, not just physically. ‘keep it together, man,’ he mumbles to himself.

threading your arm through his, you allowed him to lead you to the heavy oak door. “well well, aren’t you just the sweetest.”

toji leaned over to murmur in her ear, voice low and intimate. “like i said . . . a night to remember. and m’ just gettin’ started, lovely.” he felt you shiver and had to quickly resist the urge to press an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind you ear — the spot he knew drove you crazy. but he reined himself in, offering you his arm instead. you slanted him an arch look from beneath your lashes as you took his elbow, well aware of the charged energy in the room. “you’re such smooth talker,” you teased. “but m’ callin’ you out - you gotta’ keep deliverin’ now.”

the inside of the restaurant was every bit as quaint and charming as the exterior, all warm golden lighting and rustic decor like something plucked from a cozy little italian village. your table of choice nestled in a babylon themed area, made for discreet intimacy. along with linen napkins and sparkling wine already waiting along with a single garden rose in a low vase.

as toji held out your chair for you, you leaned up to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “this lovely, t,” you murmured, fingers trailing over the pristine white tablecloth. “really, baby . . . jus’ lovely.”

he hummed, momentarily distracted by the alluring fragrance of your signature perfume mixed with the lingering scent of baked goodies in your hair from a hectic day’s work at the bakery. “you deserve it,” he rumbled once he’d found his voice again. “. . . i know how crazy swamped you been with the kids and workin’ on side projects for the shop. tonight is strictly about you, mama. no responsibilities, no worries. just you n’ me enjoyin’ each other. like we used to do.”

your smile softened at the corners as you regarded him with open adoration. “when did all your charm come back?” you teased gently, though . . that tone was genuine. “feels like we haven’t had a moment alone in ages. hard to remember the last time you wooed me like this.”

“tonight’s special. couldn’t let another moment go by without remindin’ you exactly why you chose to put up with me.”

your expression turned impish once more. “coulda’ fooled me - i seem to recall it was you who was pushin’ lil’ ol’ me away, no?”

he formed his features into his best look of faux offense, tone full of lofty dignity. “can a man not get nervous anymore? you were stunning i was terrified — as megumi would say, your aura was just . . .” beneath the table, you could start to feel him sliding his foot forward to glide his ankle over yours, naughtiness giving him away even before your muffled squeak of surprise. toji just grinned that stupid grin at you innocently, as though not at all aware of the toe he was trailing up the delicate skin of your inner calf, “out of this world, sweetheart.”

you had to clear your throat before replying, voice husky with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “oh shut up. jus’ admit you loved me before you even knew it yet.” but despite the humor, you lashes had lowered invitingly as you let your calves part further, granting him unrestricted access.

his gaze snagged on the glimpse of your skin revealed as his foot inched higher and higher to skim the sensitive crease behind your knee. already, his blood was pounding with renewed interest, awakened by the heady combination of your pheromones and just being within your space. hmph. it was like suddenly the intimate, flickering candles and red wine he'd scoffed at earlier as a cheesy cliche seemed perfectly fitting, matching the frisson of sexual heat enkindling within him.

you spent the first part of dinner treading familiar ground - teasing n’ flirting, punctuated by conversations and easy silences that felt almost novel in your peacefulness these days. there was an ease to it, a bond between you both that couldn’t be so easily broken by the stress of soccer practices, ballet recitals or piles of laundry.

an intimacy beyond the aspects of physical that toji clung to . . . even as his vixen urges stirred elsewhere.

once appetizers had been polished off and the main courses brought out, toji leaned back in his chair and leveled you with a heavy lidded stare. slowly, he scooped up his cloth napkin and tossed it onto the table as though throwing down a gauntlet. your eyebrows rose in polite question even as a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.

“y’know . .” toji began, voice pitched low and rough like buttered rum. “you look absolutely stunning tonight, yn. i couldn’t be more proud of the woman you are n’ i jus’ uh . .” he pauses for a moment. wow, even after six years you still found a way to steal the words right out of his mouth, “i jus’ love you — you’re the mother of my children, my heart, my everyth - ”

your breath caught audibly, lashes fluttering as you struggled not to squirm under the potent weight of his stare. still, you rallied with a sassy arch of one brow. “if we weren’t already married, i’d say you were attempting at proposing to me right now, toji.”

“aye, m’ tryin’ t’be sentimental here, lady,” toji chuckled, the sound impossibly intimate amidst the hushed ambiance of the cozy trattoria. reaching across the table, he traced a feather-light path along your forearm with the very tips of his fingers, feeling the fine hairs there rise in gooseflesh, “y’know i’d marry you a thousand times over.”

the sleek black car purred through the dim streets, a monotonous swish of the windshield wipers being the only sound breaking the heavy silence within. in the passenger seat, you gazed out the rain streaked window, city lights smearing across your face in streaks of red and gold and neon blue. the night had been magical - champagne and oysters at bambolino’s, after that there was slow dancing cheek to cheek to smoky jazz at the club down the street, and last but not least — chocolate lava cake shared and savored at the tiny candle lit dessert boutique. all the romance and luxury toji knew his beautiful wife deserved.

but now, cocooned together in the warm confines of the car, the mood had shifted into something . . . more carnal. not sure how it couldn’t have become carnal with toji’s eyes constantly flicking away from the road to steal glimpses of you. in the dim glow of the dash, he drank in the way your clingy pink dress embraced every mouthwatering curve you had, the deep v neckline offering a tantalizing view of your collarbones. and oh, the silky chestnut curls tumbled over your bare shoulders, toji’s fingers itched to suken into them, to pull her close and breathe in the familiar sweet vanilla of her shampoo as he cruised.

he inhaled subtly, your delicate floral perfume underlaid with the warm, sleep-rumpled scent of your skin filling his head with sense memories. lazy sunlit mornings tangled in egyptian cotton sheets, your hair spilled across the pillow. sweaty afternoons grappling on the living room rug like lovestruck college kids. languid twilight baths with your slippery curves pressed back against his chest. he shifted in his seat as his blood began to simmer.

as if she could read his increasingly lurid thoughts, yn turned to meet his gaze. in the shadows, her eyes glittered like black diamonds, dark and fathomless, brimming with wicked promises. slowly, deliberately, she dragged her pink tongue across her bottom lip, leaving the glossed flesh glistening temptingly. toji swallowed hard.

suddenly, the air of the car felt suffocating, the rain misted air unbearably thick and hot. toji cranked the ac, but it did little to cool his overheated skin. he stared deadahead at the surging blades, trying to ignore the rising pressure in his groin.

without a word, you lifted a hand from your lap and slid it across the center console. toji sucked in a sharp breath as your palm skated up his thigh to rest just south of dangerous territory. even through the crisp fabric of his tailored slacks, her touch burned like a brand. as your nimble fingers began to trace idle whorls and spirals, you notice toji’s hands flex around the steering wheel.

“you better get us home safe, mr. we have kids to feed,” you purred, your dulcet voice flooding the charged air between them. “wouldn’t wanna’ have an accident now, would we?” your tone was pure filthy innuendo.

toji risked a glance sideways and instantly regretted it. you looked like a temptation, the old school femme fatale, all dangerous curves and scarlet lips and come-hither eyes. he could practically hear the harps and horns of the kill bill sirens blaring in his brain as he dragged his gaze forward again, locking it on the taillights winking mockingly through the rain smeared glass.

it would be so easy to pull the car over, to say fuck it to propriety and yank you into his lap. to ruck that sinful dress up around your waist and lose himself in your pussy until the windows were disgustingly fogged. so easy to let the inferno building in his veins consume you both right there in the goddamn car.

but toji prided himself on his discipline, his ironclad restraint. you couldn’t be a firefighter without grit, without the ability to stay focused and clear headed no matter what temptations beckoned. he knew that all too well. so he kept his ass planted firmly in the leather seat, even as his body screamed for more of his wife’s wicked touch.

even if his cock throbbed persistently against his fly, inflamed and aching.

you, however, seemed to have no such compunctions about maintaining composure. heedless of toji’s grip on the wheel, you unbuckled your seatbelt and twisted in your seat to face him. in a move that nearly short circuited his brain, you drew one endless leg up onto the seat, making the hem of your dress ride up to reveal the lacy edge of a sheer white thigh high.

toji’s mouth went dust dry. “what’re you doin’?”

“gettin’ comfortable,” you replied airly, but the devilish quirk of your painted lips gave away the game. slowly, you trailed a fingertip along the inside of your thigh, the back of your hand just barely grazing the tent in toji’s slacks as you did so — making him hiss out a breath between his teeth.

“quit playin’ wit’ me, yeah?”

you hummed, unconcerned, and continued her leisurely exploration, tracing idle patterns on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. “i’d rather you play with somethin’ else — i mean, you said it yourself.”

toji’s foot pressed down on the accelerator as if by it’s own volition, the car surging forward through the fuzzy soft darkness. toji's heart beat in time, a primal drum urging him to get the fuck home, where he could strip his vixen of a wife bare and remind you where teasin’ got you.

remind you how good he could make you burn.

your throaty chuckle broke him from his reverie. he glanced over to see you still caressing your own thighs, a wry twist to your lips. “you’re thinkin’ about fuckin’ me, aren’t you?” you mused casually, as if remarking on the weather. “how bad you wanna’ pull this car over, bend me over the hood n’ fuck me like i know you want to.”

liquid heat rolled down toji’s spine to pool in his groin, his cock jerking ravenously in the confines of his straining zipper. “goddammit,” he bit out, knuckles gone bloodless on the steering wheel.

you bit your lip on a smirk, shaky satisfaction in your exhale. “c’mon, daddy,” you coaxed, voice husky and sex-soaked. “i can feel you thinkin’ about it . . . those big hands spreading me open jus’ f’you?”

toji couldn't choke back his groan, pressure building to a rolling boil in his veins. his whole world narrowed down to the flex of his thighs, the strain of keeping the car on the road, and the siren song of your body, your scent, your dirty fuckin’ mouth.

“i’ve been so wet all night, t . .” you continued blithely, as if remarking on the weather. “since the second you walked in from work.” you reached over to smooth a proprietary hand along his thigh, thumb still skating dangerously close to his crotch. “i jus’ wanted to drop to my knees and worship you with my mouth right then n’ there.”

toji nearly swallowed his tongue, vivid images of your plush lips stretching around his cock flooding his brain. “c’mon, baby . .”

“ — but i was such a good girl,” you singsonged. “i was patient. i kept my hands to myself through dinner, even though all i could think about was how good you’d feel inside me.” your fingers creep higher to graze his zipper, “how deep i could take this big dick in my pretty little cunt.”

“don’t make me stop this car n’ —“

“pull over,” you murmured, voice molten and dark with promise. “anywhere. i don’t give a fuck - jus’ fuck me, toji. please . . s’ been too fuckin’ long.”

your words shot through him like an electric charge, heat searing down his spine to pool gravid and pulsing in his groin. “shit’,” he bit out, dizzy, nearly delirious with the force of his want. “ well, i know better than to argue with you. go ahead n’ tell me where, baby.”

“over there,” you pointed through the smeared windshield at an empty parking lot on the right, a black gulf set back from the glistening street. “that lot. pull in.” nearly shaking with the effort of holding himself in check, toji wrenched the wheel to the right, tires juddering over wet asphalt as he whipped into the vacant lot. the moment he threw the car into park, you were scrambling into his lap, sinuous as a snake, that tight dress rucking up around your hips completely now.

toji groaned gutturally as the heat of you settled over him, the damp crotch of your panties grinding right against his aching cock. you were like a furnace through the thin satin, searing him, branding him. he bucked helplessly under the pressure, too far gone for finesse.

“shit,” panted against the shell of his ear, nipping at the sensitive skin. your little hands scrabbling at his belt, desperate, graceless. “wan’ you s’bad. been drippin’ — it hurts, daddy . .”

toji made a wounded sound as you finally freed his straining erection, wrapping slim fingers around the thick root and pumping once, slowly. you let out a broken moan at the heavy heat of him pulsing in your grip, the way he jerked and kicked against the palm, already leaking from the flushed tip.

“look at you,” you purred, running a thumb through the slippery bead of precum. you brought the digit to your mouth, sucking it clean with a low hum that vibrated straight through him. “mm, so fuckin’ hard f’me.” toji’s hands flew to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight, a drowning man clutching a lifeline. the flimsy lace of your panties was no barrier - he ripped them aside, baring the slick folds of your cunt to the humid air. need pounded behind his eyes, turned his blood to quicksilver, his bones to molten steel.

“i missed you, mama,” he rasped, throat tight, voice scraped raw. “missed you so much.” his calloused hands roam your tummy, waist, and then chest — stopping when his palms grope the full plumpness of your titties, “awe baby . . they’re so heavy. have they gotten bigger?” the casual rubbing is soon interrupted when he pulls them out from their comfortable position in your sundress, your breasts flopping out in the prettiest way.

nipples hard n’ ready to just be absolutely tended to.

“i think so,” you reply, running your hands up and down his chest, “ever since i had rose . . they’ve gotten more n’ more swollen.” it was true. that girl had been your most painful birth ever — and keep in mind, this was coming from a mother of four. your back ached, you felt uncomfortable everywhere, and your tits well . . . let’s just say it felt like carrying around bags of sand attached to your sore chest.

but you’d do it again. anything for your sweet baby girl.

“do they hurt?”

“a little bit,” and on your word, toji leans forward, taking one of your exposed nipples into his mouth as he teased the other with his fingers. you could only moan as he sucked softly, almost as if he were trying to pry somethin’ out of em’, “aah — mmph! s’ sensitive, daddy . . so sensitive.”

with a needy cry, you wasted to time to pull your panties to the side and tap the tip of him against your slit, “put it in, t . . please,” you don’t even wait for his approval to notch the broad head of his cock against your opening as he worked. he didn’t mind - not one bit. if anything, he was more eager than you. you then wrap around him, gently sinking down, sheathing him in tight, and clinging on. his head cracked back against the headrest after letting go of your nipple with a pop! - fireworks exploding behind his eyes as your silky walls enveloped him, gripped him, fluttered sweetly around his aching length like you’d been waiting for his return.

“oh my god,” you whimpered, lip caught harshly between your teeth. you looked nearly pained, brow pinched, lashes fluttering as you fought to adjust to the invasion. after all, it’s been a while. “i missed you stretchin’ me out, daddy . . missed y’re dick s-so much.”

toji panted shallowly through his nose, every tendon in his body pulled bowstring tight as he fought the feral urge to surge up into you, to seize and take and claim. his fingers flexed convulsively on your hips, blunt nails biting into the plump flesh of your ass.

“i know, i know. i feel you mama. m’ so sorry, daddy’s been neglectin’ this pussy, huh? keep makin’ yourself f-feel good,” he encouraged gutturally, thumbs sweeping over the delicate skin of her inner thighs, smearing her arousal into the creases. “mm, tryin’ to take it all i see . . always so eager to make me proud, ain’t ya’?”

with a keening mewl as a reply, you began to move, rocking shallowly, finding a rhythm. your hands braced on his broad shoulders, using the leverage to grind down, to swivel your hips in maddening figure eights. pleasure sparkled up toji’s spine, gathered in his heavy balls, pulling them up tight and throbbing against his body.

“s-shit, yeah,” he hissed, head swimming, drowning in sensation. “that pussy’s fuckin’ good, yn — always so fuckin’ good. ride that dick jus’ like that.”

you made a desperate sound, head lolling on your neck, lush mouth falling open. each drag of your warm walls had his nerve endings sparking, a livewire of ecstasy. he could feel every clench, every ripple of your ass around him, could feel you growing wetter, slicker, easing the way for faster, harder thrusts.

soon enough you were bouncing feverishly in his lap, shameless, transported. your nails bit into his shoulders through his shirt as you slammed yourself down, the wet smack of sticky flesh and her breathless cries fogging the windows. each downstroke punched the breath from his lungs, until he was dizzy with it, drunk on the feel of you, the sweat and sex musk and some dark energy radiating off of you.

“c’mon,” he growled, palming your ass, spreading you open lewdly so he could watch himself disappear into your gleaming folds, over n’ over, creamy n’ noisy. “gonna’ nut on this dick, hm? gonna’ soak daddy with this greedy lil’ cunt? my greedy fuckin’ cunt — all mine, isn’t it? say that shit.”

“y-yess, s’ all yours, d-daddy,” you panted, back arching sharply as his pelvis pressed just right against your swollen clit. that and the feeling of his hardened head nuzzling against your gummy cervix was just enough to — “m’ close . . m’ so close, baby!” he could feel you starting to tighten, starting to talk and pulse around his hammering cock. with a choked off curse, he gripped the globes of your ass and slammed you down, grinding his hips in deep, filthy circles that had your voice breaking on a sob.

“cum on that dick,” he commanded, holding her steady even as she thrashed and writhed, impaled to the root on his steel-hard length. “give it to daddy — m-make a mess on me, nasty fuckin’ slut.”

he punctuated the words with one brutal thrust, and you had no choice but to cum with a ragged wail, clenching down on him so tight he lost his vision. your cunt rippled and gushed, rhythmic waves gracefully and sloppily milking his pulsing cock as ecstasy whited out behind your eyes.

“fuck, fuck, baby, i can’t — m’ bout to cum, m’ cummin’ - aw fuck!” he choked out, and then his own orgasm was crashing through him, a tidal wave of rapture searing through his veins. he spurted long and hard, painting your trembling walls with scorching ropes of cum that had you shuddering through the aftershocks.

for long moments they stayed locked together, panting into the thick air, pulses gradually slowing. finally you shifted with a shuddery exhale, and toji groaned low in his chest as he slipped free of you in a hot gush. she collapsed bonelessly against his chest, sweat cooling on your skin, looking thoroughly debauched.

toji caught your face between his palms, tipped it up to meet her blissed-out gaze. “holy fuck i love you,” he rasped, thumbs sweeping over your tear stained cheeks, “so fuckin’ much, man - fuck.”

“me too . . l-love you too, babe.” you finished, voice a satisfied husk. a slow grin spread over your face, catlike and smug. “i can’t believe you fucked me in a parking lot.”

“you didn’t give me much choice,” he growled playfully, nipping at your jaw once, twice, three times. “my lil’ cum bunny jus’ couldn’t wait till’ we got home.”

you shivered, squirming against the twitch of renewed interest between his legs. “guess we better head back then,” you murmured. “round two in our nice comfy bed sounds pretty perfect right about now.”

toji made a low sound of agreement, already envisioning peeling her out of that sinful dress and worshipping every inch of her properly. “i can make a thirty minute drive a fifteen — that work for you?”

“y’know you didn’t have to ask that.” you clambered off his lap and they hastily rearranged your clothing, giggling like you were being caught by some mall cop patrolling the area. and then, toji reversed, pulled back onto the glistening streets, one hand resting possessively high on your thigh as the lights of the city streaked by.

soon you were pulling into your familiar driveway. toji killed the engine and dashed around to open your door, ever the gentleman as usual even after tiring you and himself out so thoroughly. hand in hand, giddy and eager, you made you way up the front walk, your heels clicking on the wet concrete.

the door swung open on a scene of perfect domestic tranquility. there on the oversized couch lay satoru, sprawled out and snoring softly, the little ones curled up safe and sound on his chest. the sight filling toji’s heart with indescribable warmth.

gingerly, you both crept closer, not wanting to wake your peaceful babies. toji gazed down at their somber faces, so innocent in sleep, and felt his throat tighten with emotion. you then settled against his side and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“we made some damn cute kids,” you whispered with a contented sigh.

“absolutely we did,” toji agreed gruffly. he turned and pressed a kiss to your hair, soft and sweet. “i love our little family so much. and you . . i say it all the time, but god, i love you more than anything, yn. i wouldn’t have them without you.”

you tilted your face up to his, eyes liquid and luminous in the low light. “take me to bed n’ show me just how much you love me, lieutenant,” you murmured against his lips.

grinning, toji swept her into a bridal carry, careful not to jostle satoru and the kids. “roger that,” he whispered back playfully. “let’s go complete operation ‘welcome home.’”

and with that, he carried his gorgeous, giggling wife down the hall to their bedroom, ready to spend the rest of the night making good on the promise that had been building between them all evening long — a promise of passion, devotion, and a love that could set the whole world on fire.

[t-tomuras]

keigo x f!reader

warnings: slight manga spoilers, rimming, ass eating, handjob, spit, semi submissive keigo, office sex. 1.9k

for my dearly beloved @pastelle-rabbit

Keigo has always had a tendency to take it as easy as he can, with fierce wings that was never a problem for him. A speed unmatched that allowed him to, even with constant fires to put out and criminals to stop, have a decent amount of free time on his hands. 

Now he always seemed buried in paperwork and endless phone calls and text messages. Ever a man to take too much on his shoulders and he no longer possesses the ability to take to the freedom of the sky. 

Now more than ever he seems like a bird trapped in a cage. You just want to relieve his stress, give him a moment of reprieve at the very least. 

You heave a bereft sigh as you ride the elevator up the freshly repaired HPSC building. Tapping your foot against the expensive and unreasonable marble flooring of the lift, arms folded over your chest before the melodic ding signals your arrival. 

Steel doors opening up to the pitiful sight of Keigo cradling his head in his hand as his elbow rests on the too big ornately designed dark oak desk. Piles of paperwork littering either side of his desk, the out part of the pile stacked high but still it pales to the size of the documents yet to be reviewed. 

Budget expenditures, new agency applications, construction permits, zoning and rezoning requests, applications for new heroes and sidekicks from fresh UA graduates and preparing the provisional license exams for the first years for multiple hero academies.  

Worst of all is Keigo is more than aware he could lighten his load if he had the time to find the replacements for the new board of directors he’s yet to appoint, Best Jeanist can only help so much in the interim. Keigo is also hellbent on never letting the association revert back to the system it was, the corruption and abuse it facilitated to new generations of heroes. 

Determined to never let another person suffer the way Nagant and himself had. Extending his desires to the villains because Hawks would be remiss not to acknowledge that the association of the past had an equal if not greater hand as the individual heroes and civilians in creating the villains that spearheaded the war they’d won.

He doesn’t want anyone to suffer anymore, he doesn’t want to make child soldiers, that legacy dies with him. 

“Angel,” you call with the affectionate pet name, figuring he’s visited so often by a range of employees that the bell is hardly a call for attention anymore. Tone a soft singsong that visibly brightens your fiancé. 

Shoulders no longer sagging and his focus melts into delight at the sight of you. Broad smile spreads on handsome features that force the new scars on his face to stretch giving a sort of rugged look to him. He looks older beyond his years, you hope you can lighten the load. 

“Hey dove, you didn’t tell me you were stopping by,” breezy as he pats at his pockets and lifts papers in search of his phone just in case you had and he’d missed the text. He's been slightly less readily available to you than he appreciates. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” you close the gap just as he stands from his plush leather chair, rounding the corner as he pivots to receive you. “I can’t have you working yourself to death after surviving a war now can I?” 

He chuckles at that, arms snaking around your waist as yours loop over his shoulders, both giving a chaste kiss in greeting. Keigo continues to hold you even after the fleeting contact, stealing one or two more before he sighs, “there’s a mountain of paperwork that would give Fuji an inferiority complex.” 

You giggle over his playfully pettish tone, tinkling sound bleeding into boisterous laughter that’s music to his ears when you turn your head to see him petulantly push at the precarious stack. Precious pout on pretty lips you can’t resist as you steal another kiss of your own, cupping his face as you let this one linger. 

Your free hand sliding over the short hairs of his undercut for your nails to scrape pleasantly at his scalp. Eliciting a moan and making his shoulders fall slack 

“You need to relax more, Kei,” uttered against his lips as you move to the corner. Dotting affections along his cheek to his jawline before nipping at his pierced lobe, draping against him as your lips find the shell of ear to whisper hotly. 

“Let me be the first to help you then,” tone taking on a sultry lilt as you litter his throat with slow brushes of your lips. Following the outline of the snaking scar that disappears beneath the collar of his suit. Nipping teasingly as you unfasten the first three buttons of his crisp dress shirt before sliding your hands into his jacket from his shoulders. Pushing the material down until Keigo shrugs it off his arms to crumple on the floor before you kick it away. 

“You’ve been so tense lately Kei,” cooing softly as each touch continues to grow more heated between you both. You sigh when he hums lowly in response, pretty smile finding your lips as your palms smooth over his chest, “I hate to see you so wound up.” 

Keigo is inherently receptive to your touch, chin tilting upwards to grant you better access to him as his fingers press into the small of your back in a bid to have you closer to him. His hand gently cups the slope of your shoulder for your attention, tucking his chin to take you for another kiss. Tongue swiping over the seam of your lips before you open your mouth to him, encouraging to press forward. 

Pinning you slightly as his free hand moves to slide lower, pawing at the curve of your ass to the back of your thigh with intent to pull up your skirt and bunch it at your hips before you untangle from him to grasp at his wrists without breaking the kiss. 

Keigo blinks blearily, somewhat confused and disoriented when you remove yourself from him as you caress his cheek tenderly. Gaze softening when he leans into your palm, “this is about you honey, not me.” 

He takes care of you and everyone else enough, you think he’s more than owed a moment of selfishness. 

Easily arranging him to reverse your positions, silently encouraging him to place his palms flat onto the table top as your hands find their perch on his hips. Pulling him towards you slightly before they slide forward on his pelvis. Stopping at his belt buckle as you undo it with ease, loosening it enough to dangle against his thighs before snapping the clasp of his slacks. Teasingly sliding the zipper down agonizingly slowly while your free hand slips beneath the band of his boxer briefs. 

Simply feeling along the taut flesh before your other hand slips in on the other side. Working both his pants and underwear down while your cheek rests against his mid back, enjoying the way his torso expands with greater births of deep inhales. Reveling in the way he breathes when he’s relaxed but with a tinge of anticipation. It’s been so long since he’s treated himself to even a can of his favorite coffee, let alone an indulgence like this that’s sure to loosen every tense muscle in his weathered body. 

You kick your leg out behind you while you palm over his steadily hardening length, cupping him gently while your foot hooks his chair. Pulling it to you until it hits the backs of your knees before you perch at the edge of the seat. 

Deft digits encircling his semihard cock as you find a slow rhythm, pumping leisurely as you push his bottoms down until they pool at his ankles. Kissing the base of his spine as soft sighs hiss from his parted lips, supporting his weight on one arm as he tosses a glance over his shoulder at you. 

Giggling to yourself when you press your thumb into his cheek to spread him slightly and he holds his breath when you lean forward. Golden gaze meeting your unwavering one as you lean forward, playfully sinking your teeth into the pliant muscle adjacent to the one your fingers massage at as he groans at the feel. A slight frustration to his anticipation but you won’t withhold from him any longer. 

Tongue tracing teasingly around the puckered hole as your thumb messily spreads the pre that leaks from his tip already. Holding Keigo in place when he tenses at the sudden sensation despite how divine it already feels. Eyes rolling as he slumps slightly while you take care of your favorite hero. 

Humming coyly before you lean forward, lips pursed as saliva gathers on your tongue before you push it forward past your teeth. Letting the glob fall as your thumbs hold him open for you before you chase your spit. Lewdly slurping as a pleased hum rumbles in your chest when Keigo slumps forward on his desk to submit to the pleasure you generously.  

Papers scattering as he completely bends himself over the desk now, ass lifting slightly higher as his fingers grip at the edge of it before he bites a curled knuckle to stifle a moan. 

“The walls aren’t s—shit— soundproof honey.” 

You only hum in feigned concern as you continue to pump your fist down his twitching cock and lap lasciviously at him to force sinful sounds from the love of your life. 

Working him easily and he truly must’ve been so much more wound up than you thought with how quickly he’s putty in your hands. Whole bodied trembles wracking through him as his hips buck helplessly into your fist. 

Shuddering breathing increasing as you twist your wrist and your tongue delves past the tight ring of his ass. Enjoying how he steadily becomes unable to quiet himself, growing more vocal and desperate for release with every swipe and curl of your tongue. 

Dual sensations nearly making him teary as the coil in the pit of his stomach winds tightly before it snaps all together. Throaty groan rumbling in his chest before it rips from his throat, body tensing as waves of white hot pleasure wash over him and still you work him through it.  

Focusing more on tasting him than making sure he made a mess of your hand. Sticky ropes of pearly white dripping onto the floor beneath his desk while Keigo bucks helplessly into your fist until his gently takes your wrist. 

Moving to stand up before the threat of overstimulation makes him oversensitive despite knowing that’s just what you want. 

“Too much sweet dove,” voice tight as you relent to him, standing to drape against him and kiss his collarbones. Grinning at his heavy exhale as he pulls his pants up, groaning slightly when he sees the small puddle between his polished black wingtips. 

“Ah, that’s an unfortunate mess,” though he chuckles about it as he buttons his pants and redoes his belt.  

You glance downward to see what he means before you hiss on your inhale at the sight, glancing back up at him sheepishly with a cute shrug of your shoulders.

“Well.. you were saying you hated the carpet in here,” while Keigo lovingly swipes away spit from the corner of your lips as he chuckles. 

“When you’re right you’re right dove,” kissing your forehead first as he pulls you closer, pressing you to his chest before his finger curls beneath your chin to give a lingering affectionate kiss, “let's head home. I’ll take a half day today.” 

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 94: Getting to Know You

The day of her 2nd trimester appointment, Luigi and Noemi began doing the “homework” suggested at their therapy session. Beau was covering for him at practice as they headed to Magnolia Promenade after class to visit the maternity shop near the hospital.

It was an expansion of the paternity boutique Steven and Peachy had sworn by during their pregnancies. A big-name maternity retailer had opened a branch of their store next door so that sims of all genders and shapes could find comfortable clothing for pregnancy in a little conjoined mini-mall.

Luigi was doing his best to win smiles from his glum girlfriend, even going so far as to pull a couple items from the paternity section to “model” over a “baby bump” pillow that the shop had available for sims to get a sense of how something would fit at a later stage of gestation.

In the end it was mission accomplished! Noemi left the store in a much better of frame of mind than she’d entered it, wearing a comfortable and stylish new maternity ensemble that fit (and looked!) much better than Luigi’s old t-shirt and sweatpants had.

Their next stop was a nearby baby supply emporium. They didn’t plan to setup the nursery until after graduation, when they moved to the island, but they could still follow Dr. Velasquez’s advice by picking out some things and making plans.

They did manage to select one small toy for the baby before they left for Noemi’s prenatal appointment.

She was shocked when Luigi was drawn to blue options instead of his usual green, but he just shrugged. To date each heir in his family had loved a unique color; and just as dada Peachy had been stuck on “green themed” name ideas, he figured he was being guided towards the right hue for his future little one.

Luigi was feeling unsettled as they arrived at the hospital. Shopping for the baby had made his child feel more “real”, but he had quickly realized that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He wanted to want his child, but thinking about the future with a little one in it was still a struggle for him.

Noemi’s midwives worked with a medical OB, and this visit she was scheduled with him for some bloodwork. After that was finished the exam proceeded as usual, with a listen to the babies' nice strong heartbeat and some measurements to ensure their growth was on target. Everything seemed to be progressing well and Noemi was instructed to come back one final time once she entered her third trimester.

When the check-up was done their provider sent them down the hall for the ultrasound that would give them their first glimpse at the baby.

Luigi lagged a little bit behind as they headed in, texting Denton as an excuse to keep his head down. His anxiety was through the roof – if looking at cribs and diapers had been hard how was he going to feel seeing his son or daughter “in living color”!?

The tech introduced themselves, instructed Noemi to lie back on the table, and in no time their child was visible on the screen. Noemi asked right away if they could tell the babies sex, and with a quick adjustment of the wand the technician confirmed they were having a boy.

Luigi was reeling as Noemi got redressed, but pasted on a smile that he hoped came close to matching her ecstatic grin as he helped her to her feet.

When she told him “come say hello to your son” Luigi hesitated for only a moment before leaning down and directing a shy wave towards Noemi’s belly along with a quick “nice to meet you”.

He was glad to let Noemi babble on as they headed towards the exit. He had known what the pregnancy test, the therapy, and Noemi’s growing belly meant, but seeing his little boy on the monitor had brought the weight of reality crashing down in a whole new way that he was still trying to process.

Rather than following her into the teleporter station that would take them home Luigi hung back, claiming that he wanted to grab some finger food for dinner so they could both dive right into their homework without distraction.

Noemi, quite tired out from the long day, didn’t argue, giving him a kiss and requesting “something from that Mediterranean place – your baby wants some hummus!” before continuing on her way.

The shiny jewelry on display in the stall Luigi headed towards once she teleported out of sight declared that it didn’t sell Mediterranean food.

Seeing his son had unsettled him, but it had also made him even more sure that he wanted to ask his girlfriend to become his wife.

He didn’t doubt they would have gotten there without a baby in the mix, he’d loved her for ages, but he needed her to know he was in this for the long haul, and what better way to show his devotion than asking her to spend the rest of her life with him?

It was time to take the next step in their relationship, if she was willing, and unlike parenthood it was a journey he was ready and eager to begin.

Yes, of course they are having a boy 🤭, and no, I didn’t do anything to influence this outcome (but I’m not mad about it)!

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[theworldoffostering]

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.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

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.

[cordidy]

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

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

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)

[lindira]

I'm going through A Thing right now, and while I feel I'm mentally better off for it, my financial anxiety is through the roof right now.

My sister-in-law was my boss. It worked great for a while (over 2 years) because even though she's an incredibly difficult person and paid me less than I'm worth ($16 an hour, part time), I could work from home and determine my own schedule, which was great for someone like me, who 1) has tons of medical appointments I have to go to on a regular basis, and 2) has kids and can't rely on anyone else to pick them up from school. I could also work around school events, which was also amazing because I want to be present for the things my kids feel are important. Also, she's in California and I'm in Texas, so I didn't have to deal with her very often.

Anyway, SIL found a service where she could hire people from the Philippines for $9.50 an hour. At the same time, she took on patients from another practice that was closing, so she had 2-3 times as many appointments each day. Meaning I started working more hours. At around that time, she asked me to transition from entering her charts to taking phone calls. But it was summer break, my kids were home, and my youngest is loud and demanding. I told her I couldn't because it wouldn't be professional to have my kid yelling for me through the door while talking to her patients. Moreover, at least half of her patients are Spanish-speaking, and I haven't used Spanish at all in the 24 years since I graduated high school. Instead of finding those points reasonable, she kept badgering and badgering me, even trying to go around my "no" by having my brother (her husband) ask my mom to ask me. I still said no.

Summer was ending and she asked when I could start on phones again. I gave her a date that was a week after the kids returned to school, and she agreed. But then she said weird things like, "only work the hours you would be working on the phone" and started training one of the people she found in the Philippines in some of the tasks that I did.

Last Monday, she demanded I start on phones that Wednesday, a whole week and a half earlier than we agreed upon. It was also the last week of summer vacation and there were a ton of things I had to do for the kids. I planned on working around the events I had to attend, but I couldn't start something new and with a specific schedule. I told her I could start on Monday (today) at the earliest, but she came back saying that I should enjoy my days off for the rest of the week until I could start on phones on Monday. She accused me of making her staff and patients "suffer" with my unreasonable availability.

I was livid. She was retaliating by taking away my hours for most of the week. She sure as fuck wasn't paying me for my time off. And my husband and I had suspected that she was giving my duties to the person in the Philippines, but I realized she wanted to limit my hours too by demanding I only work during the few hours I told her I could commit to working the phones. Basically, I started working 25-30 hours a week instead of 12-15 hours, so my SIL gave my job to someone she could pay less than California's minimum wage.

After a full day of being intensely angry, I confronted her about all of it: the badgering, the disrespect of going through my mom to get to me, springing new duties on me a day and a half before she wanted me to start and well before the agreed upon date I was to start, giving away my job so she could pay someone $6.50 less an hour, limiting my hours, and most of all for hurting me and my family by taking away almost a whole week's worth of wages because I wouldn't do what she wanted. If she wanted to hire someone else and didn't want to keep me on, she should have just told me so. At least then I could make an informed decision about what to do next.

She replied by trying to excuse her behavior as just "running her business" and that I was a burden and ruining her business. She said I was costing her $6760 over the course of the year. She didn't say, but I figured out where that very precise number. It was my wages if I worked 20 hours minus the wages of the person in the Philippines if they also worked 20 hours. I wasn't costing her anything. She wanted to save herself that much money, so she sabotaged my job. She only kept me on to stroke her own damn ego and feel like she was "saving" my family from destitution.

So I quit. Who needs enemies when I have "family" whose "help" is toxic and self-serving? I did really good work for her for over 2 years, and this is how she's going to treat me? Fuck that money-hungry bitch and her cheapskate, unethical bullshit. Fuck her for trying to control me by hurting my family in retaliation. She has alienated literally every one of our extended family, and now she's moved on to immediate family. I tried to tolerate her for my brother's sake. Fuck that now. I don't want to see her ever again.

I expected this from her. I'm angry, but it doesn't hurt so bad to cut her out of my life. I feel relieved, actually. But what really hurts is that my brother must have known what was happening and he didn't fight for me. I don't expect him to choose me over his wife, but he could have told me what she was doing. He could have told her it was shitty for her to give my job away to save what is - to them - pocket change. He didn't. We were "almost twins". He credited me for raising him. But he always chooses her over everything and everyone else. I'm not sure I blame him exactly, but I might never trust him again. And I certainly won't be seeing very much of him if she'll be around.

So now I'm scrambling to find a new job. I lost some dead weight, and I'm truly better off without her in my life. But I've been dealing with this for the past week and I'm still so angry. I'm a little angry at myself too. When I took this job, I knew it probably wouldn't end well working for her because of how much of a bitch she is. But it worked for 2 and a half years. It could've worked for longer. But she didn't value me, as an employee or even as a person.

If you've reached this far, thank you for "listening" to my rant. I find writing out my anger helps as much as yelling it. I'm hopeful that I'll find a new job soon, but if you spot a decent remote office work job an over-educated struggling writer could do, please keep me in mind.

[laufs-very-serious-medical-blog]

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.

[localwebslingers]

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 him 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 (as needed) 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)

[markwatkinsconsumerguide]

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

[sapphireshineauthor]

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. 

[bronzebtch]

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!!

[gallopinggold]

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.

[odishaupdate]

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.