#saderposting

would evelyn still be bitter and resentful here. i think probably? there would be a lot of people disparaging her and looking down on her for the crime of not being a son. august might still be seen as a better alternative.

their respective talents - i think evelyn can keep her butterflies, as some kind of frantic desire to know the present as well as the future. to know more than what she's given. and august can lean into the part that isn't covered, which is the past! iirc he does have a specifically history-related talent, agatha realises this when she first opens a student's history of the woods

Not many people attend the funeral.

A few of Professor Sader's former students do, which is surprising. They're all historians and academics and authors, and they burn miniature copies of their books for him, raised dots shining on the paper. Some of them are familiar with the School for Good's vast grounds; some, those who were Never students, are not. But they close ranks like it doesn't matter at all.

Agatha learns, from Professor Dovey, that Professor Sader was a much more involved teacher before them. To Evers and Nevers alike. He'd distanced himself from their year; probably because he knew what was coming next. She sniffles a little as she says it.

Professor Sader's two older brothers are both there; both must be seventy at the least. The oldest, January, burns drawing paper and fine sets of paint, his face desolate. He speaks of Professor Sader like he raised his younger brother, and from what Professor Dovey says he practically did. How it must hurt, for your brother to leave you behind one final time.

His husband Matthew drops a stack of notes into the flames, the familiar dots glittering on the surface. He'll place a hand on Agatha's shoulder, later, and thank her for coming; tell her that Professor Sader was waiting for her, all this while. January will turn away, so Agatha doesn't have to see him cry.

July is the second brother, and he lingers a distance away from the casket. He doesn't burn anything, but he does step closer— just for a second— and whisper something Agatha doesn't want to hear.

Professor Sader has a sister, too. A half-sister. Her name is Evelyn, and Professor Dovey speaks of her with a quiet exhaustion. She taught at the School once. She doesn't return: not to see her brothers, not to say goodbye.

But one of her sons does. Rhian, he says softly when Professor Dovey asks. He looks very much like Professor Sader did; maybe that's why the adults can't bear to look at him, at the Sader who still has his whole life ahead of him. He never knew his uncle. January sent them the invitation anyway. His twin brother Japeth hadn't seen the need to go; but Rhian had always wanted a family.

The Sader brothers are kind to him. But they don't look at him. He goes to stand next to Agatha instead, like some odd pair of cousins. She doesn't object.

Who else? Not even the faculty attend. Most of them made no secret that they thought him insane. There's Professor Dovey, of course, and Lady Lesso by her side, for once silent. They each burn little paper models of houses: Professor Dovey's is a model of his rooms in the School, and Lady Lesso's is a replica of the Library of Virtue.

Then there's Callis. Agatha hadn't even known they knew each other. But she received an invitation from January, along with Agatha's, and their whole twisting story had come out. Their mutual respect, as researchers, as academics. Their friendship. The way Professor Sader had saved Callis' life, given her a way out of the Woods, just as he'd saved Agatha's. Just as he'd saved the School. Callis burns him paper clovers, the smoke reflecting in her gaze, curling up into the distant sky.

And Agatha rounds it off. She hadn't known Professor Sader, not really. But he'd known her. He'd cared.

He might have been something like a father to her, in some other life.

Just not this one.

She burns her copy of The Tale of Sophie and Agatha for him. She'd transcribed it, with Callis' help, into those patterns of raised dots. Professor Sader had never gotten to read it. He'd given his life for it. She thinks he's owed at least this much.

and yes, in the school for good and evil, it must be important to learn the practical skills: how to use magic and conduct yourself and stay alive. but what about critical thinking?

ANYWAY. this is my segway into the AU where august sader starts teaching media literacy, gets the students to question the stories, the system & the school master [basically what sophie & agatha do in the first book. good and evil as friends; as equals. but done by an Actual Adult], and overturns the underlying beliefs that govern the world of SGE.

also: inclusive education. i have a lot of thoughts about sader as a blind student during his school days, and how that shapes his teaching philosophy.

GREAT question i love talking about these two! actually my idea of august&lesso relationship is one built by proxy, in the absence of any care between the two of them themselves. two lines in parallel, so to speak. i.e. in my timeline, clarissa is august's friend & classmate, and also lesso's equal (loaded but beloved); evelyn is august's sister and lesso's personal nightmare, the person who ruined her life. i like to think that there's a lot of resentment/bitterness on lesso's part for the evelyn fiasco, especially.

more personally - if i remember right, lesso canonically thinks august is crazy (the "it is his gallery" scene), to me that translates to wariness, to never being willing to get to know him, despite clarissa vouching for him. wow, she's a hater. august is the Seer, of course, which comes with its own set of baggage - he knows what will happen to her. he knows how she'll die. he knows all these things but he doesn't know her at all, and it would probably he less painful not to. (this is part of my ongoing thesis on how Seers shouldn't have interpersonal relationships but do anyway)

“Your turn,” Agatha says. Someone raises their voice from the room below— high, piercing, ugly. It’s probably Rhian’s mother. Who thought Sader family reunions were a good idea?

“Hurry up, Rhian,” Japeth snaps. He’s in a bad mood today. Understandable, but so is Rhian, and he’s not taking it out on anyone.

He fumbles with his cards anyway. Agatha has just put down a yellow reverse card, throwing the direction of play right back at him; he puts down a yellow five, leaving Japeth to groan as he snatches a card from the draw pile.

“I’ll get you back for that,” he grumbles. It’s hard to tell whether he’s being serious. It’s been getting harder and harder these days.

“You can try,” Rhian retorts anyway, and Japeth snorts something like a half-laugh. A joke, then. It wasn’t very funny.

It’s Agatha’s turn, again. “Uno,” she says, as she slaps down a blue five, brandishing her one last card triumphantly. “I’m going to win.”

Rhian eyes his own hand of ten cards, then Japeth’s with twelve after Agatha had hit him with a double plus four. “It’s not like you have very steep competition,” he points out.

“Not all of us listened to everything Mom told us to do, Rhian,” Japeth says, rolling his eyes. “I played Uno with my friends in primary school. You’re the only first-time player here.”

“Your friend,” Rhian coughs. He gets an elbow to the stomach and a dark scowl for the trouble. Not his fault it’s true. But he’s going to have a bruise on his ribs for a good few days.

“Like you’re any better,” Japeth hisses. “You and Kei.”

“Yeah, but Kei isn’t crazy,” Rhian mutters.

“Okay, I get that this is very much not my area of expertise,” Agatha intervenes, “or my business, but if you guys are going to kill each other, can you wait until we finish playing? Because I want to win.”

“You’re weirdly chill about this,” Rhian says, even as Japeth subsides into an angry silence.

“My best friend tried to ruin my life in first year,” Agatha offers. “I know a lot about crazy friends. Or, you know. Only having one friend. Not to rush you, but it’s your turn again.”

No blue cards, no fives. Rhian shrugs and picks another card off the draw pile. Plus two. Nice. “Right. Nice talking with you.”

“Good talk,” Agatha agrees. Japeth slaps a blue skip card onto the pile, and it’s back to Rhian again, who takes another card in due resignation.

“I’m going to catch up,” Japeth mutters, “just you wait,” and puts another blue card down.

There’s the sound of something breaking downstairs. Agatha pauses, hand halfway towards the draw pile, and Rhian and Japeth exchange tense looks. Again, with feeling: who thought a Sader family reunion was a good idea?

Uncle August, that’s who. Rhian has nothing against the man; he’s likeable, and he’s kind. Definitely kinder than Rhian’s mother is. But he has such terrible ideas sometimes.

“This is why Uncle July doesn’t come to family dinner, isn’t it,” he mutters.

“He doesn’t come to family dinner with us because he hates our mother,” Japeth says, deadpan. “He goes to family dinner with Agatha.” He says this matter-of-factly. Rhian doesn’t really want to know how he found out. It probably wasn’t pretty.

“He does, yeah,” Agatha sighs. “It’s really awkward, though, because his kids are closer to my dad’s age than they are to mine, and then I end up sitting there with no one to talk to.”

“Still better than whatever’s going on down there,” Rhian says gloomily. He’s ninety percent sure his mother threw something at someone. Only a little less sure that it was at Uncle August.

“I don’t know why your dad tries,” Japeth says to Agatha, bitter. “Mom’s not going to like him anytime soon.”

“He’s gotta try,” Agatha says quietly. “Sucks to give up on family.”

“I’d give up on her in a heartbeat,” Rhian volunteers.

Japeth turns to him, mouth drawn up in a half-snarl, and for a second Rhian really, truly believes that Japeth is going to— what? Jump him? Bite him? He’s done it all before. But Agatha’s there, so he doesn’t. All he says is, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Alright, fine,” Rhian mutters. They don’t agree on her. It’s fine. They don’t talk about it, and that’s why Rhian can still tolerate talking to his brother. And the other way around.

They’re each other’s closest friend, unfortunately. They know everything about each other. Sure, there’s Aric, and there’s Kei— sweet, serious Kei. But they came later.

It’s been Rhian and Japeth against the world all their lives.

And it sucks massively.

Because Japeth is screwed up in the head. Because Rhian is supposed to be normal, and he can hardly go around being normal when his brother is half-insane. Rebellious one moment, mommy’s boy the next.

Because maybe, just maybe, that’s all Rhian is ever going to get. To deserve.

“Your turn, Rhian,” Agatha interrupts. She says it gently; with no bite behind it. Quite unlike Rhian’s brother. He puts down a card absently. Japeth rolls his eyes as he takes another from the draw pile.

What Rhian wouldn’t give to be Agatha’s brother, instead. August Sader’s son. They seem happy. Normal.

The door slams open. It’s their mother. Of course it is.

“We’re leaving,” she snaps. She doesn’t even acknowledge Agatha before she storms out.

Rhian drops his cards. He fumbles to sweep them up, but it’s too late, they’re all face up for Agatha and Japeth to see. Can’t even get this right. Can’t even play a game right.

Mother never allowed games. Said they had to focus on their schoolwork, and their extracurriculars, and their portfolios, and Rhian did, he did, so why is everything still so screwed up—?

His hands are shaking. That’s not good.

“Hey,” Agatha says, alarmed. “Hey, it’s just a game. It’s okay. We can play again sometime, we’ll see each other in school anyway— well.” She winces.

Rhian goes to school with Agatha, because he got out of Arbed on scholarship. Japeth is still there.

“Whatever,” Japeth says dismissively. It’s entirely possible that he genuinely doesn’t care. Rhian sometimes wonders whether he has feelings at all. “Rhian. Let’s go.” He's already dropped his cards, reaching for the rest of his things. It’s easier not to argue, when she’s angry, and they both know it.

“Yeah, okay,” Rhian says, softer.

The door opens, again, nudged open by the end of a cane. “Dad,” Agatha says. “Hey. Are we going home, too?”

“Agatha,” Uncle August acknowledges, warmth diffusing through his voice. He’s always much more open around her. “We can if you want, since Rhian and Japeth are leaving. But it’s your choice. Also— hello, you two. I’m sorry about all that.”

“It’s okay,” Rhian says. Their mother has never apologised for anything, so this is already a step up in his books.

Uncle August sighs. “I don’t think it's the last you'll be hearing of it.”

“What did you do that pissed her off so bad?” Japeth asks carelessly, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Ah,” Uncle August says delicately. He’s definitely stalling.

“Dad?” Agatha asks, voice tilting into a question. Great. Rhian wasn’t about to point it out.

“It has to do with their father,” Uncle August answers.

Their father? Rafal hasn’t talked to them in months. He normally just pretends they don't exist. Unless he’s been talking to their mother again?

“We’d know if he did anything,” Japeth snaps. “Mom would be yelling at us about it for weeks. Saying we’re just like him. I’m just like him.” He gets defensive about their father, too. The name gave him a bit of a complex. RJ. Rhian is glad it wasn’t him.

But the Saders aren't supposed to know who their father is. Their mother never told anyone. Never tells anyone a thing about him. Rhian and Japeth don’t talk about him either. No exceptions.

“What is going on,” he says.

Uncle August hesitates, still. His fingers twist up and down the head of his cane.

“You’re not supposed to know about him!” Japeth seethes. Took him long enough.

“I did not, no,” Uncle August says thinly, “until tonight.”

“Stop talking in riddles,” Agatha pipes up. “Just tell it to them straight, Dad.” Her eyes are bright with curiosity, and worry. She’s probably dying to know, too.

“He’s seeing your father, that’s what he wants to say,” someone else says. It’s Uncle January, the eldest brother, suddenly appearing at his youngest sibling’s shoulder.

“He’s what?” Rhian demands.

“Seeing your father,” Uncle January repeats.

“No, I heard you the first time, what the fuck,” he spits. Uncle August has the decency to look slightly apologetic— no, he doesn’t even have anything to apologise for, he didn’t even know. Didn’t know Rafal was their father, the father who left them with Evelyn Sader as their only trusted adult, the father who left, full stop. That only makes Rhian angrier. How dare he feel sorry. He doesn’t even know—

Japeth snatches up his bag and storms out of the room, shoving past their two uncles; Uncle January slips away to follow him with a worried crease of his eyebrows. Clearly he’s having trouble processing. Rhian is too. But he’s just sitting there, numb, so he’s not really doing any better. Never mind.

“Um,” Agatha says, with polite disbelief. “Sorry, what? The man from the university, with the silver hair. That’s Rhian’s dad?”

“Yes,” Rhian mumbles, “fuck, he teaches at the university, he dyes his hair because he thinks it looks nice.” He presses his head between his knees. This cannot be happening. This actually cannot be happening.

“I don’t intend to let it continue,” Uncle August says, somewhat like a promise.

“No,” Rhian says, with feeling. “I mean— don’t do that on our behalf. Yeah, he left and everything, but honestly. Who wouldn't leave our mother? Have you met her? She’s crazy.”

“Rhian,” Uncle August says quietly.

“No, she’s actually crazy,” Rhian assures him. “She didn’t let me have a phone until I was fifteen because she was scared it would stunt my learning. She doesn’t let me talk to Kei outside of school. She doesn’t care that Japeth is screwed in the head. I’m telling you, anyone who left her was definitely making the right choice.”

“Be it as it may,” Uncle August says, “I don't want her to take it out on you.”

“She does that anyway,” Rhian says. “Might as well be of some use.”

Uncle August exhales. “You’re just a child,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t have to think of these things.”

“Tell that to our mother. Oh wait, you probably did,” Rhian says, a little hysterical. “S’why she hates you. She hates that you're always so good. So upright. Things always go your way. You’re too good, Uncle August. You’re not the same as we are.”

“We’re family, Rhian,” Uncle August says, low and tired.

“It’s gotta count for something,” Agatha says, finally. “That we’re family.”

Rhian wants to ask her: what does it count for, exactly? There’s no point. Everyone hates their little branch of the family. Their nonexistent— well, existent now— father, their crazy mother, the two of them, equally screwed up in their own ways, just that Rhian is more considerate about it. Everyone else is normal. Happy.

“Maybe it does,” he says, “for you.”

“Man,” Agatha says. She turns away from him to collect the fallen Uno cards, shove them in the box and hand them to Rhian. “Look, this is what it counts for, okay? You take those, play with Kei or whoever, with Japeth. The next time we see each other in school, we’re playing and I’m kicking your ass, and you’re giving that back to me. That's what this means.”

Rhian blinks, reflexively taking the box of cards she drops in his lap. “Come again?”

“You’re not just turning away from me like that,” Agatha says, quieter. “From us.” Uncle August nods in the hallway, mouth curling in gentle, fatherly pride. Rhian’s heart wrenches for a second. Flings itself off-beat. It would be so easy to turn away. It’s how he’s lived all this while. No one but Japeth; no one but himself.

But he wants this. He’s never wanted anything more.

“Your turn, next,” he says, finally, and Agatha smiles.