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agatharkn3ss · 1 month ago

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Agatha's info/rumours

I thought I'd pull together all the info we've been shown in ep.6 and add my interpretation to it. I still can't believe that Billy read these short bits and claimed he knew an "egregious" amount about Agatha.

As usual, biased towards Agathario, because I think they are heavily implying Agatha's connection to Death (I mean yes, the writers could just be trying to explain why the internet would be so invested in her identity, but still)

First of all - "333 partial results for Agatha Harkness Ancient Witch". I love yet another allusion to how Agatha is linked with number 3, making her the actual harbinger of doom (I explain this here).

It's interesting that the related questions are all about the immortality of the witches:

Are witches immortal?

Do real witches ever die?

How do you kill a witch?

How old is the oldest witch?

If we didn't have other super-old witches in the show, it would make me wonder if Agatha didn't make some sort of pact with Death (Rio), where she provides "bodies" to her in exchange for her long life. But as it is, we have Lilia as 450+ years old and Jen is also older than a century, but you don't see them trying to kill people (I think).

The very first search result is quite fun:

"The Macabre Wiki – a comprehensive encyclopaedia of all things that only come out after dark. Created by two blood witched from Salem"

No matter what, I will forever believe this is Agatha and Rio's page. (for reasons explained here)

The rest of the search results are not as exciting:

Witchy Resource – Ancient witches and ancient warlocks are not well documented traditionally and usually for good reason…

Witches and Aging – Apparently, witches are able to chose how they age and present themselves to humans. Some withes choose to stop again at a certain point staying roughly 30 years old visually for literally hundreds of years.

Dreadit – Salem Witch Trials – Recently I’ve been researching a ton on the SWT and not many people know this but there are reports of witches that actually survived burning and drowning

The Art of the Ancients – Learn about the secret art of witchcraft and the witches that have [...]

So this suggests Agatha specifically chose her look and age. Neat. Quite empowering really.

Also, another suggestion that some witches can be immortal and survive burning and drowning. I wonder if we will see this in the show - Agatha and Rio having absolute blast at mocking people who were trying to torture/kill Agatha, only to realise she wasn't feeling any pain, she would just raise and shout "Surprise witches!".

Then we go onto the Salem Witch Trials page. This pretty much confirms what we already know about them. I immediately clocked how all the handles only have green or purple colours... Coincidence? I've not tried to decipher the names, but if anyone has any suggestions, let me know!

witchygirlblack: Did any witches survive the Salem witch trials? Are they still alive? Where are they? Witches can live for hundreds of years, so the ones that survived the trials might still be out there [] witchkraft dreadit, you must know of some?

4thlevelwarlock: The Salemites, Evanora Harkness’s coven, were prominent in the area. I’ve heard rumours [...]the young children from the coven escaped

SamSamwitch: @4thlevelwarlock look familiar? [Agatha image link]

BoftheEast: be careful posting about her just saying

Then Billy takes the photo through reverse image search. I know these are tiny, inconsequential details but I still love them:

"Looky" sounds like a little nod to Lilia's "kooky"

The letters “o” have moons inside of them.

Each letter has different colour that seems to align with the witches – light blue (Jan - water trial?), purple (Agatha - spirit), yellow (Lilia - air), dark blue (Billy?), orange (Alice – fire)

This search then leads to a number of events that Agatha has been spotted at. Rather than pull out the quotes, I'm going to put the events in a chronological order and add relevant background info:

Salem Witch Trials (1692-1693) - this was a series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts. More than 200 people were accused. It was the deadliest witch hunt in the history of colonial North America. This is the time where Agatha's mother and her coven try to "punish" her for using "the darkest of magic". Her fingers weren't black, so she's unlikely to have had Darkhold back then. (btw the script for this suggests Agatha was 18 at the time, so she was born ~1675, making her ~351 years old in 2026)

The Eastern Seaboard - Although we don't know the exact dates, there are "unconfirmed reports of Agatha traveling the Eastern Seaboard". This could relate to various areas but this is likely just referring to the US East Coast. The Thirteen Colonies, which formed the United States in 1776 were located on this coast, playing an important role in the development of the United States.

The sinking of the Titanic (1912) - the British ocean liner sank as a result of striking an iceberg on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, to New York City, US. Of the estimated 2,224 passengers and crew aboard, approximately 1,500 died. Agatha is listed as one of the survivors

The Hindenburg disaster (1937) - a German commercial passenger airship caught fire and was destroyed during its attempt to dock at Lakehurst, New Jersey, on its journey from Frankfurt, Germany. The accident caused 35 fatalities among the 97 people on board, and an additional fatality on the ground. The publicity shattered public confidence in the giant, passenger-carrying rigid airship and marked the abrupt end of the airship era. Again, Agatha is spotted as a woman who "survived the explosion then disappeared"

"Jolene" (1972-1973) - The headline states "Does this 1972 Surveillance photo of Dolly Parton show the real Jolene?" and Jac Schaeffer confirmed that yes, Agatha = Jolene. So I had some fun with this, because why not?! I wondered what Agatha's play would've been here. Is she truly after Dolly's "man" - if so, in what way? Or is she after Dolly herself? Note that although the article says 1972, later on we also see statement that Agatha was last seen in Nashville Tennessee, 1973. Now - that year in Nashville, Dolly not only recorded "Jolene" in May, but a month later she also recorded "I will always love you" - a song that is widely understood to be a goodbye song to her business partner because she decided to pursue solo career. In my head this is all a result of Agatha's influence, who showed Dolly her real power.

On that note, I don't think we would be far off assuming that as Agatha kept Dolly (or her man) her company, she would've actually come across Lorna Wu herself? We know it was similar time, because "The Ballad of the Witches Road" record was made in 1978. Alice mentions how she got her tattoo in Colorado as her mum was playing at the Red Rocks amphitheatre. Dolly Parton also performed at the Red Rocks in 1972 (the same year as the camera footage), so Agatha could've been there...

Finally, we get to the "brujapedia" - the encyclopaedia of witches. It's fun to speculate who could be running this page - the whole theme is black and white, with red highlights. There is also an image of a raven - as I discussed it before, it is a symbol of bridging the world of life and death. So it would be fun if it was Death herself maintaining it, as she would be the only one who would truly know who the real witches were. Also it would be a cool census of who is still remaining for her to "collect" their dues.

Another good spot from @chaotic-homoromantic is that "bruja" is a Spanish word for "witch", giving us another hint to Rio.

I couldn't really find any info on any other names other than the top one. Abigail Adams was a founder of the US, wife of John Adams, the second US president and mother of John Quincy Adams, the 6th US president. I'd like to think witches had some input back then.

Also interesting is how Agatha's surname is misspelled - it has two Ks. I wonder why that is - no way it's a mistake, seeing how much detail they've put into this. Maybe it's a subtle suggestion that this information came straight from Agatha herself or as a joke from someone who knows her, since she's known for using wrong words. (or it could just be a suggestion that all of the other names on this list are also misspelled, explaining why we can't find any info on them)

Then we get to some info about her - most of which I already collated into the timeline above. There is also a vague mention of Nicky: "Agatha Harkness. Son. Name unkown, rumours [...]"

But there are also some other bits - hilariously referred to as "FUN" facts:

Fun Facts:

Murdered her entire coven

Possesses succubus powers

Nick name is “witch killer!”

Only known survivor of The Witches Road

Folklore references: It is said certain children’s book make reference to Agatha [...]

Funny how the nickname absolutely includes the exclamation mark. I feel like maybe Jen was the one who submitted this info.

As for the children's book - I feel like it wouldn't be just a single story but more like the Grimm's Fairy Tales. Following Lilia's comment, Agatha probably was the template they used for "evil witches" - poisoning apples and stealing kids and eating children. It's not something she would deny anyway.

Now, the Succubus comment is interesting. In lore they are generally depicted as a sexual being - "a female demon or supernatural entity in folklores who appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity."

But I think in Agatha's case, things are different. Yes, she has the charisma and can probably seduce people quite easily (I mean, she probably seduced Death, didn't she?). But I don't think that's like a magical power. In fact, if it was, it think it would be really unfair to Agatha, erasing the fact that her character had to build and evolve around her experiences and the fact that she had to survive - "in a way that few do". So I think this "fun fact" could be partially coming from someone's snarky comment (Dolly Parton's?), who just wanted to take away Agatha's agency. Or fell for Agatha and then blamed it on her "powers" rather than admitting their own gullibility. Just like women over the centuries were accused of witchcraft and casting curses if things simply didn't go the way someone wanted.

Plus the way she goes about getting her magic from people is absolutely not seductive. She simply finds a way to annoy the heck out of the target!

But of course, that's not all there is to it, because on the other hand Agatha has her syphoning ability - now that could also be described as the "succubus powers" referred to above. In DnD succubus attacks using a "Deadly kiss", basically draining the essence of life and I feel like this is quite a good description:

"The kiss of a succubus is an echo of the emptiness that is the fiend’s longing for a corrupted soul. Likewise, the recipient of the fiend’s kiss gains no satisfaction from it, experiencing only pain and the profound emptiness that the fiend imparts. The kiss is nothing short of an attack, usually delivered as a final farewell before the fiend escapes."

In that magic/soul sucking way, she would have more parallels to Death, explaining their connection. More so, if Agatha can't control her powers - because Death does not really have much control either, she just has to do her job when the time comes.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio vidal #agatha all along spoilers #agathario #agatha x rio

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101suouexpressions · 6 months ago

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Welcome to 101 of Suou Hayato's expressions. Yes, it is sarcasm!

Suou only has like 3 typical expressions (with some exceptions in special situations) in 90 : 10 : 1 ratio, where he smiles softly x 90, is slightly surprised x 10, and is serious x 1.

In any cases, he's always very beautiful.

This blog is only made for fun and isn't a bot. All posts are manually published/scheduled, and are tagged with #101 suou expressions or #101 suo expressions (with and without the 'u'). Analysis/theory posts use the tag #wbk analysis (yeah, I do write those sometimes) and anything else will use #not an expression post.

Since the number of analysis posts is growing, I've opted to list them under the cut for quick access. Have a nice day!

Analysis posts in reverse chronological order:

Symbols of Takiishi and Umemiya in Ch.150

Symbols surrounding Boufuurin's leaders and their meanings

Boufuurin's Four Heavenly Kings and their Buddhism counterpart

Suou, the one who values his words

[Theory] Umemiya was going to train Sugushita to become the next leader

Umemiya fostering Sakura to be his successor

How Umemiya seems to be the epitome of Suou's image of adulthood and a proper teacher/mentor

#suou hayato #wind breaker #wind breaker nii satoru #suo hayato #101 suou expressions #101 suo expressions #not an expression post #wbk

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ladyjenise · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on why Ganondorf makes "that face" in Tears of the Kingdom

I'm several months late, but I didn't want to post spoiler stuff when the game was fresh and, frankly, I had quite a whack summer. So here we are.

Anyway, onto the meta: my thoughts on why Ganondorf makes "that face" in Tears of the Kingdom.

Yes, this face:

One of the first things I want to do is credit some rad metas that helped me along in my thought process:

-Discussion of Ganondorf's facial design from a technical and creative standpoint

-Discussion of Ganondorf's outfit

And now to the actual meta! Will include spoilers for Tears of the Kingdom.

When the screenshots of Ganondorf making "that face" first hit the internet, there was a lot of lol and wtf, which was fair. Most people weren't that far in the game yet. Actually, not sure it was even out yet (there was an early leaked ROM floating around at some point pre-release). I don't want to dwell much on people's initial reactions as I think if you're here reading you've already processed your initial feelings on seeing it. And your initial reaction of LOL WTF is fine. Out of context, it probably made little sense.

But let's talk about context: Ganondorf makes this face after killing Sonia for her Secret Stone. He's literally laughing over her dead body as Zelda calls out vainly to the fallen queen. It's a very heinous, dramatic act. And I think, in context, that confused people even more because his face, on first glance, feels over the top and silly for such a serious moment. However, it's not there because Nintendo's devs don't know what they're doing. At least, that's what I'm trying to argue here.

Let's discuss the build up to this scene in the story chronology: Ganondorf tries to use moldugas to attack the fledgling kingdom of Hyrule. It goes badly because Rauru, alongside Sonia and Zelda, are able to use Secret Stones of the Zonai to fend off the attack. It's a very lopsided victory.

Ganondorf takes a moment to pout before observing the Secret Stones. Ganondorf correctly observes that brute force will not be enough. Not one to sit back on his failures, Ganondorf is clearly already hatching a new plan. End of scene.

We next see Ganondorf at the court of Rauru and Sonia, bending the knee in what we know is a false act of fealty. Of course, this scene is a reference to the plot of Ocarina of Time (where we spy on Ganondorf through a window as he bends the knee to the King of Hyrule, who is out of the shot). it's also a glimpse of Ganondorf the schemer.

If you had not met Ganondorf before playing Tears of the Kingdom, you might actually think Ganondorf is just a mindlessly violent guy (and he is that too, don't get me wrong). You might not have expected this dude to roll up to the court of Hyrule and start playing the political game. His character design looks like the exact kind of guy who could punch your head clean off your body. Just look at him:

He's a brick wall. He looks like a big tough guy, and maybe he's just some big dummy who only understands violence. It's a stereotype Nintendo has subverted again and again with his character. And there Ganondorf is at the court of Rauru serving backhanded compliments like a pro. And while Rauru assures Zelda that he knows Ganondorf is up to shit, he's really got Rauru convinced that he can handle him. As we shall see, Rauru was mistaken. But that's Ganondorf for you. His character is about subverting expectations. This is what makes him so very fun.

Even his costume, with the reversible robe, tells you a lot about who he is. On the outside, a calm, clever, cultured man. On the inside, he's ready to fuck your shit up. I love it.

Back to the scene.

After assuring Rauru he simply wants to play nice and have the protection of Hyrule, Ganondorf serves some cunty lines implying Rauru is an interloper and an outsider etc before leaving. And it's at this point I noticed that when Ganondorf takes his leave, he makes this really flourishing move with his arm that made me stop and think.

You can probably find the scene online somewhere, but here's a screenshot of what I mean:

And note that he also uses his sleeved arm, creating that extra diva flourish as he goes. We also get a real good fast look at how colourful and different his sleeve is. He's turned his back to Rauru and the others after swearing his fealty. His changeable nature is displayed to the player. It's a nice wink and nod to Ganondorf's later betrayal. Only Zelda has a real inkling that he's really, really bad news and probably shouldn't even be there. But if you've played Ocarina of Time, you understand that Zelda isn't listened to until it's too late.

Returning to the flourish itself: Ganondorf didn't have to do this. And Nintendo didn't have to waste animation time having him do this. But they did. And they did it again when he laughs over Sonia's body. And they do it again when he swallows his Secret Stone. They just. keep. doing. it.

Why?

Why do all this extra dramatic animation for Ganondorf?

Those familiar with kabuki (a classical form of Japanese theatre) are probably screaming KABUKI, and I would agree. I didn't immediately get there at first only because my background was in another form of classical theatre: Greek (ask me about my unversity minor lol). I'm not going into a deep dive on either classical Greek theatre nor kabuki because that's a lot, I'm not really an expert or super familiar with the details, and I also think their Wikipedia pages will probably give you a decent summary of what you might want to learn details on. However, classic Greek theatre is old as shit and has a lot of great stories with characters you'll recognize. I recommend.

What I need you, dear reader, to understand about classic and ancient forms of theatre is their emphasis ON emphasis. It's a lot of what we might think of as exaggerated elements, over-the-top forms, and straight up spelling shit out to the audience. Real archaic shit. Because the world we are watching in these memories IS archaic to Link. There's 10,000 years between the memories we see and Link's time. It's like we, as Link, are viewing a kabuki play or a Greek play about stuff that happened then. It makes perfect sense to have Ganondorf act like he's in an ancient play. And that's how you get shit like this:

This is all theatre.

But why is ancient theatre so weird? It's not. We think it looks weird because it's unfamiliar to us. Most of us don't grow up watching ancient plays. Even those of use who read Shakespeare in school are usually sweating through the now-archaic English (it was only 400-ish years ago!) You're not equipped, and that's cool.

And honestly, if you are familiar with Ganondorf, he truly is a creature of theatre. Just look at this castle he builds in Ocarina of Time:

He destroyed Hyrule Castle to build this giant fucking castle levitating over a pit of lava. Like why? Because he CAN. Because he can't do anything in halves.

Also, his outfits. Look at this shit. He can't tone it down. I don't think he could if he tried.

Coming back to Ganondorf's face when he kills Sonia: when Ganondorf's face contorts and he starts to laugh evilly, we are told in very certain terms that he's made a critical choice. If you weren't sure before, you're being told now: He's evil. There's no going back from this. And he's embracing it. There is zero remorse. Killing her was the act he needed to move from man to monster. It's very important that you, the player, understand this. It's a moral thing. And I don't mean like "If you like this character after you are a bad person" type of thing. That's not what I mean here (and what people who have weird obsessions on the internet often misunderstand just so they can start fights over dumb shit). What I mean is that the storytellers need you need to understand your character's motivations for wanting to fight this guy.

And the next scene plainly shows what I'm talking about: Ganondorf takes the Secret Stone and literally turns into a demon king. He's no longer a man. He's this other, immoral being now. Bye bye, human Ganondorf, hello monster Ganondorf! That's it.

Going back to his eating of the Secret Stone, which changes Ganondorf from good ol' demon king to the for realsies demon dragon, he says some lines about giving up his "body" and "mind" and, frankly "everything", just so he can win. But also it's a desperate last attempt at keeping hold of the power that has so horribly blinded him to the truth.

That last part is ironic for Ganondorf, a man who was clever enough to get into the heart of Hyrule, steal their powerful relic, kill the queen and ALMOST become king. Because that's his ultimate failing. He's smart, clever, and his wins get the better of him. His addiction to power means he never stops to consider he might have weaknesses he cannot yet see, or that, as Rauru warns him, his arrogance and blind faith in his own abilities and talents might be his downfall.

In a way, the story is just as much about Link searching for Zelda and Zelda trying to figure out her role in the world as it is about the fall of a powerful man. Is it tragic that Ganondorf let himself become so corrupted by power that it would slowly transform him from man to demon? I guess it depends on who you ask, really. (I think it's fucking cool)

#legend of zelda #ganondorf #tears of the kingdom #spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers

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swordfright · 1 year ago

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any tips for writing c!punz? I'm losing my mind out here

I'm gonna start by referring you to some posts that might be helpful:

elm on c!Punz as a very emotional character

my thoughts on c!Punz's self concept

aidan on c!Punz as an enabler

c!Punz is great at putting on a chill, laid-back demeanor, but underneath that he can be very intense, and if you rewatch some of his key plot-heavy streams chronologically, you can very clearly see him becoming more and more intense as the story progresses. Two things I think a lot of ppl tend to either forget or gloss over are 1) he was there almost from the beginning and presumably remembers the golden past that c!Dream so desperately wants to recover; and 2) he was possessed by the Egg, which would've had a pretty big impact on him vis-a-vis how he views his own autonomy and role/involvement in plot events.

In terms of motivation, I think he can be quite tricky to pin down. He claims his motivation is to "live a life without mystery," but that's in the No Way Home stream when he's angrily berating c!Tommy, and personally I don't see this as a terribly reliable admission. I'm not saying he isn't interested in discovering the secrets of life and death, but if you pay more attention to his actions than his words, I think it's fairly clear that this motivation is second to his desire to help c!Dream. He doesn't just want answers, he wants to help c!Dream get answers. What this tells us is that, in a complete reversal of his "money-motivated hired goon" facade, Punz is actually very discerning when it comes to who he's willing to pursue long-term projects alongside. Will he work FOR anyone? Perhaps (he certainly wants you to think so.) Will he work WITH anyone? Hell no.

Another thing I find really interesting is his relationship with Sapnap and how it informs his relationship with Dream. The two of them have been on opposing sides of various conflicts at various points, but Sapnap seems to continue to see Punz as a friend throughout the story, and Punz plays along even after the staged finale. He helps Sapnap and Karl plan their wedding, Sapnap even says he wants Punz to be a groomsman! The two of them are so interesting in relation to Dream, it's a really under-explored dynamic imo! Former brothers-in-arms vs current brothers-in-arms. I think you could definitely argue that, post-prison, Punz is trying to be Dream's replacement for Sapnap in all ways except one: he isn't going to tell Dream no. He's the yes man Sapnap couldn't be.

Also, I think it's important to remember who he was and what sort of stuff he was up to prior to his involvement in the major plot points. He was a beekeeper! He liked giving gifts, and still does! His sense of humor is goofy and sometimes pretty immature, just like c!Dream's. He wants to be respected by the people he respects. He takes good care of his things. In short, assistant manager at the necromancy store isn't his only occupation.

(Lmk if you want clips for any of these points btw! I’ve done a lot of generalizing in this post but I’m happy to find clips if that’s helpful for you.)

#wanna add that c!punz was also around for a lot of the El Rapids stuff #which imo is...relevant later :))#asks #c!punz #c!dream #c!stagedduo

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zelenbug · 2 months ago

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considering my blog theme (and also running random spore facts) its a wonder i dont spore post more on my main so heres a selection of recent creatures ive made

none of them are on the online sporepedia sorry and i dont think ill give out the pngs

also theyre in reverse chronological order, going from sep 2024 to june 2023

Greenert, Spitty (which i made FOR a spore facts post), Horce

Triridescent, Beptfish, Ciliate

Triangles, Pencil (had to view this one in test drive instead bc the panhears look so bad outside of it), Scarevern

Trumpeter, Dinofishbug, Dubeecated

Centitaur, Melons, Swirlybrow

Femur Saturday, Blooby, Findragon

Segmentpod, Grabbyface, Finny

NormalTailed (no invisible limbs just another bug i found), Virdfish [sic] (yes invisible limbs), Niceymeanybird

Spiraltenna, Onlooker, Birt

Clawmaw, Scalehunter, Glipy

#spore #back to raymanposting after this though of course #by the way absolutely let me know which ones your favorite of these guys

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sancta-seraphina · 27 days ago

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isn't holiest an apocalypse story? why don't you go in chronological order?

Hi Anon,

This can be a little tricky to explain, and the answer to your question is both yes and no. But we need to take a closer look at the apocalypse genres...

Apocalyptic literature is a genre of prophetic text in which information is revealed to someone by a divine messenger. It has been defined this way in particular, and also defined as the information being specifically about the end of the world, although I was taught this was not a requirement of it.

'Apocalypse' itself means 'revelation'—this is why we call the Book of Revelation also as the Revelation of John or the Apocalypse of John. There's also the Apocalypse of Abraham, the Apocalypse of Moses, and so many others... (although the Book of Revelation IS the only canonical apocalyptic text in the New Testament).

But there is also apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction. Which is different, is probably what you're referring to, and is a sub-genre of science fiction dealing with cataclysmic, end-of-the-world scenarios.

Which is what my story is not, especially because I classify it as Biblical Horror (meaning horror related to/inspired specifically by the Bible and related scripture).

But Holiest is absolutely apocalyptic in nature in the first sense discussed, since it has divine entities revealing information to other characters (although Holiest is obviously not scripture and not supposed to be prophecy). And that happens all the time for this set of characters, who are all angels, fallen angels, and demons. It's a part of normal communication for them (but I can talk about Heaven and Hell's dynamic in another post).

The story itself is about what happens when a formerly divine entity can no longer figure out which visions are the commonplace/every day occurrences for him and which aren't. Over the course of his psychosis, he completely loses the ability tell the difference between, for example, his siblings contacting him in their divine ways, and his new and concerning hallucinations that are all based on the Revelation of John... because of this, he interprets his variously correct and incorrect visions as being portents of or even events of the end of the world. And things do get rather 'apocalyptic' in the cataclysmic sense towards the end. And oh yeah that character is the devil, who is kind of an important player in Revelation...

The answer to your second question about chronological order is because I didn't want to do it in order and because no one is stopping me. I wanted to go in reverse. I wanted to write my Revelation-themed mental illness story, and then to show the reader how my character got into that situation (The Harrowing), and then how he got into the situation before that (Heresiarch).

These novels can actually be read in any order, but I like them best in reverse. It was more fun for me that way.

#story: holiest #seraphina.txt #asks #anon #i could talk about the other plans i have but #nah #not yet

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voidcat-senket · 7 months ago

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Cal Kestis Week: Monday - “THAT DOESN’T LOOK GOOD” + A RIGGED GAME + BOGLING

Image by FlamMabel

They climb out of Pyloon’s Saloon in a group, Kata hefted up in Bode’s arms. He does not want to bring his daughter, that much is clear, but he must have decided that leaving her behind would be worse, since he did not attempt to argue. His arms wrap protectively around her, keeping her tucked to his chest, but the girl is curious, her head swiveling as she looks at everything she can sight. “Is that normal?” She asks softly, pointing towards the stable. It is empty and damaged. The fence circling the plot has been wrecked in several places. In some, blood and feathers dot the broken wood. The inner stalls are smashed, the metal dented by large, powerful legs until the nekkos within managed to break out and run free. The earth has been churned, and seems to be moving.

Merrin and Bode fight Cal - or whatever it is that is inside him

Chapter Six of A Spirit Sleeping Somewhere Cold

SUMMARY: When Cal dies at Bode's hand on Tanalorr, Merrin uses her magick to resurrect him. But Tanalorr is more than it seems, and it's been waiting millenia for its chance to escape its prison- and when Merrin invites Cal's spirit to return to his body, it's more than happy to hitch a ride.

TAGS: POV Merrin, Resurrection, resurrection gone wrong, Planet Tanalorr, Eldritch Tanalorr, Haunted Tanalorr, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, BAMF Merrin, Best Big Sister Merrin, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Game(s), Post-Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Happy Ending, Cal/Merrin, Cal/Bode

NOTE: This fic was inspired by the photo mode images taken by @animatedjen and @flammabel on a very specific spot on Tanalorr, find Jen's instructions here!

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mixelation · 8 months ago

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OH MY GOD I forgot about the tag system - do you even know how much I scrolled - holy shit I'm in tears - thank you so much btw

oh my god, YES, please use the tags dsjfdjsh

also i guess i do have an "au round-up" post that's like a baby master post here. it has the tags i use + a link to view them chronologically. if you're new or have months of "catching up," the "chrono" view of the tag is probably what you want!!

i do kind of assume anyone chronically on tumblr enough to be following my silly AUs is pretty good at tag usage? but if you're not: i do try my best to tag all my tori AUs so that you can look at every posted in order. make sure the URL shows "/tagged/" rather than "/search/" and you will see everything in the tag in reverse chronological order, plus you can add /chrono/ to see every post in chronological order. afaik chrono only works if you're using a certain view: you have to do like mixelation.tumblr.com/tagged/reborn au/chrono. and i think chrono might just not be on the app? i also do this bc i imagine some people follow me who do not actually care about seven AUs with one OC and might want to blacklist those tags as spam control.

posting random thoughts on an AU out of order and then only writing random scenes is a chaotic way to do it, but using the tag and the /chrono/ function does reduce the chaos a whole bunch

#adjacent note on tags:#my policy for tagging is that i cannot GUARANTEE tags bc quite frankly im bad at it #so i don't take requests for tags for content/trigger warnings #but i do like being able to track my own AUs so i've been pretty motivated to tag things #toriverse #i might go through a tag EVERYTHING 'toriverse' at some point but i don't like the mass post editor

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liketwoswansinbalance · 11 months ago

Text

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.

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