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haddonfieldhalloween · 4 years

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some happy Myers family au headcanons

because I have a weak spot for this and I can’t draw atm my first time writing out my headcanons and working up the guts to post them, hooray me

Laurie is referred to as Cynthia in this since that is her given name in the sibling timeline

Judith' birth is more or less an accident and not at all planned, Peter and Edith Myers were married, sure but hadn't settled in a nice house of their own yet, and weren’t even close to thinking about children (they are in their early twenties after all and living in a small, cheap flat, too many problems of their own to take care of a baby)

they live there for a while after Judith’s birth, because money is hard to come by but they start to eye nice neighbourhoods for the future (Edith really wants to move into a place where everyone knows one another, houses in a row, calm and secure streets)

Judith is a loud baby, she wails when she wants to be picked up and she giggles and giggles when her father hides and reveals his face to her

Edith always feels she's happier with having a child than Peter is, which is not to say that he doesn’t love Judith, but he's gone a lot to work and when he comes home he's often too exhausted to spend time with his daughter

Judith grows up just a little lonely and for a while she wishes, desperately for a sibling

It takes 10 years until Peter and Edith have another child and now they are in their 30s, settled in their jobs and in all honesty, this is probably the time they should've had Judith

They move to Haddonfield before Michael is born and it's all bits the small community that Edith imagined when Judith was born

On the day of Michaels birth, Peter is late. Judith (10 years old with springing blond curls and terribly excited to meet her sibling) calls for him all over the house before she finds him in what is to be Michaels room, setting up a crib he build in the hours he has after his job (He never knew he was a crafty person, but they still have to buy a proper bed in the end, mainly because Michael grows incredibly fast)

Peter and Edith feared Michael to be just as loud as Judith had been so Edith worries terribly when Michael does not make a sound when he’s born He's a very quiet baby, the doctors reassure them that their child is perfectly healthy but Edith catches herself waiting for Michael to cry (he doesn't, not when he falls and scrapes his knees, not when he's refused a piece of candy after dinner, he remains oddly quiet)

Michael doesn't talk a lot, he can but he doesn't, something that does not change all through his life

When Michael is 4, Edith is pregnant again. He doesn't really understand what's going on but he observes carefully and when his Mother holds Laurie (Cynthia, tiny and cooing softly, not a worry in the world), he gets on his tiptoes to see her better

Michael loves his sister right from when she's born and Cynthia will always be the most important to him out of the family (much to Judith’s dismay later in life. she jokes about it and talks it away with the large age difference between her and the others, but she envies their odd but close bond)

Edith and Peter work quite a lot so until Judith is 16 they hire a nanny to take care of their children when they are gone. It happens a little less in Cynthia’s first year after being born but they start working normally again when she turns 2

Judith has a lot better things to do than watch over her 6 year old brother and her baby sister, she’s thinking about her boyfriend, her two best friends, the new film in the cinema and that one set of paint she saw in the store the other day that would be so nice to work with if only her allowance would be a little bigger It’s a lot lot so find more under the read more (because I do not want people to have to scroll past such a long post when they look through the tags)

she's the first to be annoyed by it and try to get something out of it but her parents won't have any of it, it's her duty as the eldest after all

Michael feels like she neglects them when she is on the phone with her boyfriend the entire evening rather than reading a story to Cynthia or watching over him

If she'd at least leave the living room he could watch TV, he’s seen snippets of a horror movie when his father was changing channels one Saturday and has been wanting to get more of that ever since

It doesn't change until one evening, it’s a Halloween night, Michael stands in front of her, in a costume, refusing to take the mask that came with it off, holding out the bag he's dug up from one of the kitchen cabinets, silent demand she go trick or treating with him Judith is ready to tell him off but her boyfriend is quicker and he makes fun of Michael, Judith's weird, crazy little brother. She doesn't let that stand, she's the only one allowed to be annoyed by her siblings, and no one's going to get away saying something like this Her boyfriend doesn't return after that night, only once attempting to pass her a note in class that she ripped apart right away A bit out of spite and in part to make Michael happy, she takes him out that night. With Cynthia in one arm (she debated leaving her at home, after all Halloween isn't the holiday for a baby, but she also can't leave a 2-year-old alone, what if a murderer gets into their house) and Michael trailing along at her side, they walk the neighbourhood. Much to Judith' surprise, Cynthia coos happily and points at all the funky costumes that people dressed up in, seemingly enjoying herself quite a bit. In one yard, Michael finds one of those fake skeletons and rips of its boney hand (Judith is torn between laughing at the sight of a small clown stealing a plastic hand and telling him not to, it's theft after all) She doesn't really understand why he did such a thing until he gives the hand to Cynthia, who plays with the fingers, childish glee and interest written over her face Their parents find them late that night on the couch, all asleep. Judith in the middle with Michael leaned at her side, candy wrapping on his lap and a full bag of sweets to his feet, and Cynthia on her chest, drooling on Judith' shirt, holding a skeleton hand by the middle finger.

as they grow up and Michael is in school longer, it becomes evident that he doesn't care to make friends, he rather spends his breaks alone than engage with the other children

he isn't stupid, quite the contrary, his teachers attest to the fact that if only he would raise his hand more and participate in class, his grades were to show how talented he truly was

his best subjects are biology and art and these are the classes for which he actually works

Cynthia on the other hand loves learning, she’s way ahead of her classmates and sometimes she peaks into Michaels school books and falls asleep over text that Michael most likely never had even looked at

he just can't be bothered with a lot of things

he likes art however and its one of the things he and Judith have in common, even if their subjects are different (she likes landscapes, impressionism and Michael well...he makes these inexplainable drawings, often dark looking. And he likes making Masks)

Masks are one of Michaels odd little fascinations, earlier in his life he would demand Halloween costumes that came with them but soon enough those masks weren't good enough anymore. They just looked too cheap, or too boring or just not scary enough. So he went to make his own. The first ones were crude, paper mâché and painted with colours stolen from Judith (she grew terribly mad when she saw he’d used her expensive paint for this). But over time they became more and more complex and well crafted Sometimes he would put some on (he has his favourites, particularly one painted white, almost humanly shaped face with dark hair) and simply lay in bed, looking at the ceiling through the eyeholes

Another one of Michaels favourite pastimes became walking the neighbourhood out at night. He never did anything in particular or went any special location. He'd just go outside after nightfall, when most everyone was inside already and wander the streets of Haddonfield. Sometimes he'd stop by a well-lit window and stand just a few seconds watching the people inside, having dinner or sitting on the couch together.

Judith has moved out at age 22, to the city, she's never been too much of a small-town kind of girl, but she comes over almost every weekend It's not like their parents are up to anything special, they don't spend too much time with their children really but Judith likes to sit with Cynthia as she paints her nails and tells her about whatever it is she's learned last in school She can handle Michael better now that she's older, she feels like she understands him better now, even though she feels no one really understand Michael, not even Michael himself They don't do a lot of talking, most of the time she brings a painting she' working on and they sit in Michaels room in silence, both doing art

Michael is just as blond as his sisters when he is young, just as his mother once was, but he's the first one to go brown (Judith follows very slowly, her hair darkens more and more the older she gets)

He's also the tallest in the family, easily (his father claims it because Michaels grandfather was very tall as well). Early on in puberty he simply started growing more and more until at age 15 he had outgrown even his father

Michael doesn't explain himself, it’s a big part of who is: He never feels like other people have to understand why he acts a certain way. He does what he feels is right, what he wants to do and others are presented with his choices, to take them or leave them but never to understand, not by his explanation at least. After years of that, his family has gotten used to it, and accepted it for the most part.

his parents used to take him to therapists, they always felt his behaviour was a little off, but they had given up on it after a while, because Michael had refused to speak to the doctors, often not even allowing to be taken to see them For the most part they meet him once and suggest more sessions to Edith (she takes him every time, Peter has given up after the 3rd therapist), but nothing comes of it Even if Michael is dragged to another session, they cannot get anything out of him. It's hardly any use if your child does not want to be treated, Edith would hear a lot She thinks these people are all idiots but she is overwhelmed by exhaustion and worry until her husbands’ words get to her and she stops making new appointments

that is until Dr. Samuel Loomis comes into the picture Until this day everyone is convinced it's been Cynthia who finally convinced Michael to go by his own will. It's a rocky relationship for sure, Michael is 16 when they first meet and his parents had no knowledge of Michaels visit to the man, Cynthia dragging his hand Loomis is confused alright, at the sight of it but he can't well refuse to see Michael when his sister continuously shakes her head at him telling her he has to talk to their parents first (later, later, she says and when he calls the Myers house after the session, Edith is surprised to hear about what happened. It's a back and forth between Peter and her on whether they should pay for another therapist. Peter is sure Michael will blow it up again but Edith convinces him in the end. They do want the best for their child after all)

It's a hard task, for both Michael and Loomis, and there are hours of Loomis talking with Michael sitting in silence but it seems Loomis has Michaels interest enough for the teen to come in again (true to himself he never explains why, but Cynthia grows more and more certain it’s because in some way Loomis understands Michael in a way nobody does. And while it infuriates Michael it also is oddly calming to him. The world is hard to control and it’s even harder to interact with people that refuse to understand the way he works.)

When Michael is almost 17, his father attempts to teach him how to drive, but like with most things in his life it feels like Michael doesn't really care so Peter feels it's lost on his son It is only a few months later that he asks Cynthia if he should pick her up from a school trip, when she tells him Michael has already offered to drive her home, that he learns his son has a driver's license

Michael is very particular when it comes to contact with others. He doesn't like being close with people, there's something about it that's both uncomfortable and unnecessary to him. He knows he has desires, he knows he feels attractions sometimes, but he doesn't act on it for the most part. It's just too much most of the time.

Michael spends a lot of energy on controlling his emotions (he gets better at it the longer he is in therapy with Loomis, but it'll always remain hard, a challenge in itself that most people cannot understand). It is why he can't bother to indulge in anything like this, it’s not a priority Most people are just, too annoying, too much, they ask so many questions, he can't stand it (relating to other doesn’t come to him very easily)

He knows he's gay, not that he cares much for a word to describe himself (he doesn’t like to be pinned like that, in any way). He never feels the need to come out, tell anyone about it (like all things he doesn't explain any part of him), unlike Cynthia, who tells him she's bisexual one day (behind strong stance and steady voice he notices her fingers shaking, nervous)

Michael shows no intentions of moving out, even past age 18 and one evening when they lay in bed, Edith tells Peter that Michael should get the house. He tells her she's crazy, where are they supposed to go Somewhere warm and nice, Edith says, they are older now after all and Peter has gotten quite a few transferal offers. It's not supposed to happen immediately after all, but think about it, she asks of her husband. He turns around, not fathoming how his wife could suggest something like this (In the end they will move. When Laurie has moved out and they've found a nice new place, they leave Haddonfield and Michael stays in the old house in Lumpkin Lane. He never moves away. It's a constant he needs in his life. One of those things that he can't have change)

Cynthia is the only one allowed to poke fun at Michael. Really, she's the only one that can get away with about anything when it comes to Michael. Neither of them recall how they started but at one point they begin fighting one another. Michael is physically stronger than Cynthia but she is quicker and they both are excellent at reading what the other plans to do so most if not all their fights end up with them equal Cynthia likes the exercise of it, growing stronger as she gets older, and she believes there is some part of Michael that needs this, in a way that she can't understand Once Michael came to a fight wearing one of his masks and only that one time there is something frightening about him, and only this once she walks away with her shirt torn apart and one cut made by a knife he carried (its against the rules and he never brings one again but Cynthia doesn’t forget this moment ever again)

Michael eats whatever he can find first, he hardly has any preferences and often he doesn't care enough to cook himself anything (why put the effort into all of that when some toast and sausage works just as well, or that plate of spaghetti Cynthia has prepared herself). He likes sweet things though, a fact that both Judith and Cynthia know how to use to their advantages (it’s so hard to get Michael to do anything he doesn’t already want to do himself)

As always: Art and Writing/Headcanon requests are open!

#Michael Myers #Halloween #laurie strode #halloween movie #slasher #slashers #slasher movies #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #michael myers headcanons #michael myers imagine #judith myers #michael myers au #halloween au #The Shape #dbd michael myers #myers family #halloween 1978 #haddonfieldhalloween.txt

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datheetjoella · 4 years

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Fantober 2020, Day 5: Sleepover

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 5/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,115 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, New Relationship, Fluff Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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Usually, taking a shower or bath anywhere but in his bathroom would be a great source of stress for Haruka. The spray of the showerhead would be either too weak or too strong, the temperature of the water came in options freezing or boiling, and the soap and shampoo were often weirdly-scented. But Makoto’s bathtub was free of these issues and felt like a second home, so he could relax here like few other places. It was what came after he got out of the bath that made him feel like he was in a hotel room the night before an important competition.

Part of it felt mundane to him, because he had stayed over at Makoto’s place countless times prior, but another part of him felt hesitant. This was their first sleepover since they voiced their feelings for each other and that made it different. Exciting, but different. And whenever something changed in Haruka’s life, he had to have a moment to adjust, to get used to the new situation. He didn’t want things to be awkward between Makoto and him, he couldn’t even imagine feeling uncomfortable around Makoto, but these inexplicable nerves in his stomach made him question everything he knew.

When the water turned so cold he began to tremble, he finally got out. He dried himself slowly to stretch out as much time as he could, but when he picked apart the stack of clothes Makoto had given him, he smiled.

The grey sweatpants were nothing special, but the shirt was; it was the orange and yellow t-shirt he often wore when he was over at Makoto’s place because it was his favourite. Not only was it very comfy, but it also looked great on Makoto, which was why he wore it a lot too. All of his clothes smelled like him, but something about wearing that specific shirt made Haruka feel like he was constantly in Makoto’s arms.

Soothed by the familiarity, Haruka went to brush his teeth without further delay. When he left the bathroom and was greeted by Makoto’s sweet smile, all the worries that plagued his mind vanished.

He’d feared things would be a bit weird or foreign between them, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Nothing had changed. One look confirmed that. They were still Makoto and Haruka, childhood friends who loved each other wholeheartedly. Rather than changing, their relationship had evolved into something it was always meant to become. Something so natural could never be strange.

“Did you have a nice bath?” Makoto asked and he automatically grabbed the towel from Haruka’s neck to dry his hair, knowing Haruka couldn’t be bothered.

“Hm.” Haruka’s eyes almost fell shut in delight as Makoto massaged his scalp. Although he’d been dawdling before, there was nothing he wanted more now than to get into bed with Makoto.

As if on cue, Makoto said, “I guess I don’t have to lay out the futon now, do I?”

“No. Unless you’d rather sleep in it.”

“Preferably not,” Makoto chuckled and he pulled the towel from Haruka’s head in a swift motion. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he placed a light but sweet kiss on Haruka's lips, a promise for more later. It left a smile in its wake.

While Makoto went into the bathroom, Haruka grabbed his phone from his bag and lied down on Makoto’s bed. They hadn’t shared a bed in years, but it felt nice to bury himself beneath the striped grey duvet. Like he finally reclaimed his rightful spot.

After he set his alarm, Haruka played a mobile game to stay awake while he waited for Makoto to finish up. It would be a shame if he fell asleep during their first night together without at least cuddling and exchanging a couple more kisses. His eyelids were rather heavy, so he’d appreciate it if Makoto could hurry a bit.

Thankfully, Makoto never disappointed. Before long, he returned in his salmon-coloured shirt and a pair of black shorts, smelling like his lemongrass deodorant. Haruka put his phone on the headboard and rolled over until his back hit the wall to give Makoto more space.

Once Makoto settled himself on the mattress, he opened his arms and Haruka scooted closer to snuggle up with him. Their noses nearly touched and the joy Haruka felt in his chest twinkled in Makoto’s eyes. He raised his hand and carded his fingers through his brown locks, only to find his roots were still damp.

“You always pester me about drying my hair properly, yet you can’t even practice what you preach.”

“You’re right, sorry,” Makoto said with a snort of amusement, “I just wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.”

Butterflies fluttered in Haruka’s stomach and to keep himself from smiling too widely, he pressed his lips to Makoto’s. The kiss was reciprocated fervently. When Haruka pulled back, Makoto was grinning at him like an idiot.

“What?”

“Nothing, just,” Makoto said, a cute, rosy tinge dusting his cheekbones, “I’m happy. I’ve always been happy to be with you, but it’s like I feel extra happy now. It sounds silly, I know.”

“It doesn’t,” Haruka said, shaking his head, “I feel the same.”

“I love you,” Makoto murmured, tightening his arm around Haruka’s back.

Haruka leaned in to kiss him again, but before their mouths touched, he said, “I love you too.”

They shared a few pleasant, loving kisses when Haruka suddenly pulled back to stifle a yawn.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Makoto said, studying the space between the back of Haruka’s head and the wall. “I should probably get a bigger bed, though.”

“Don’t bother. We’ll get a double bed when we move in together.”

The words left him spontaneously, without consideration, because it seemed like the most obvious solution to him. Now their relationship was official, living together was the next logical step. Then they’d be able to see each other every day regardless of their busy schedules, and they’d save up on rent too. Until then, he didn’t mind having to curl up against Makoto’s chest during every sleepover. Getting two double beds for such a short amount of time would be a waste of money. But maybe Makoto didn’t see it that way.

To his relief, Makoto said, “You’re right.” They were always on the same page, so Haruka had no reason to doubt it now. “It’s getting late though, so let’s talk more about this tomorrow.”

Haruka nodded and with a final kiss goodnight, he nuzzled his face against Makoto’s neck. Makoto whispered a wish for pleasant dreams, but Haruka drifted off before he could respond.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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What Are Friends For || Morgan & Lydia

After Morgan accidentally strikes a bargain with Lydia, she is invited over to make good on her word. What are friends for, after all?

@inspirationdivine

Morgan was eager to make a better impression on Lydia than she had at the beach. She brought one of the few bottles of wine she hadn’t wrecked in the house, assuming that whatever was good enough for Deirdre’s luxuriant tastes would suit Lydia as well. She put on a bright floral dress that was hanging in the closet from her old things, too attention-seeking with its sweetheart bust and bright pink belt to do for her everyday ‘don’t look at me I’m dead and depressed’ chic. Which meant it was clean and, mostly, unwrinkled. She did her hair. She checked herself, however self-consciously before the door to the rather intimidatingly large house. When Lydia answered the door, Morgan held out her gift bag automatically. “I brought this for you!” If she had any blood flow to her face she would have blushed. No hi? No how are you? Seriously? “It’s good see you,” she tried. “I thought you’d like this. And, um, there’s a rose quartz plate. I don’t know if you like it, but it is one of the nicer things I made.” It was part of an unfinished commission the buyer only wanted a refund for, but even Morgan wasn’t so frazzled as to mention that.

Lydia smiled as she opened the door, humans kept busy upstairs so as to not disturb them. Almost immediately Morgan was pushing a gift bag into her hands, which Lydia peaked into curiously. “Thank you, darling, it’s good to see you too,” she stepped aside, leading Morgan into the kitchen of her home. Large windows filled the room with spring skies, and a view over her garden. “Look at that, you did put on your Sunday best after all. You look good.”

Morgan stepped carefully into the house, minding not to scuff the tile as she walked in. Windows lined every wall that wasn’t adorned with bright paintings or strange sculptures that seemed to draw Morgan towards them. It put her in mind of an art gallery, or a home in a movie: some mysterious billionaire with a shark tank in the basement. “Have you collected all of this in only four months?” She asked, staring wide-eyed around her. So entranced and distracted, she nearly tripped on her way to the kitchen. “I did!” She said, summoning as much brightness as she had in her. Not much, but enough to sound pleasant. “I like to think I clean up good. Your home is amazing,” she said. “Almost like a museum.”

“No, I’ve had much of it for years. Every time I move, I choose my favourite pieces to bring to the new residence. I change it reasonably frequently.” Lydia looked around, smiling at her collection. For each piece, she could name the Leanan who had inspired it. Some of them distant friends or siblings that Lydia could see in the art itself. Either directly, the planes of their chests carefully etched into wood, or in the colour pallettes of the beautiful baroque scenery. “You do clean up well. I also hope this means you feel the slightest bit better relative to the last time we met.”

“Oh. Sh--stars,” Morgan corrected herself quickly. “It really is like a museum. That’s incredible. And when you say years, do you mean--” She hesitated, wondering if it was impolite to ask about age. Morgan didn’t even know what kind of fae Lydia was. If she was a banshee, she would have more skulls, right? And Deirdre wouldn’t be so lonely. She probably wasn’t like Jeff, Morgan would have noticed that too. “Well, just how many, I guess, if that’s polite to ask.” But, in case that wasn’t-- “I am feeling better, though. Thank you for asking. Still not, you know,” she fidgeted on the counter, “Kickin’ that well. But, better than last time. Haven’t almost drowned anyone since.”

“I’m over seventy years old, although I haven’t been collecting art for quite that long,” Lydia replied, preening herself under Morgan’s compliments. “Are you an art connoisseur, or do you just enjoy seeing it?” There wasn’t any judgment in her tone, for once. It was simply a question to find out whether they could talk art, or simply enjoy it together. “I would be more concerned if you were suddenly completely fine. Although, if pranks become part of your new lifestyle, that remains a good choice for a prank. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“Seventy?” Morgan balked with surprise before she could stop herself. Did this mean she and Deirdre would look this good at seventy? Her mind struggled to go in five different directions at once. “I don’t know if that’s especially old for fae, if your family treats you like a kid about it or not, but at least you don’t seem cynical or tired after all this time,” she said, trying to get back on course. “I’ve, um, I’ve taken a couple courses in art history. Came in handy when I was alive, a little, with curse research and the sacred geometry that goes into alchemy. But mostly I just think it’s pretty. I um...I mostly have a weak spot for anything with a dramatic enough emotional statement. There’s a chapel Rothko designed, in Houston? I would go there to think some times, as a weird treat for myself.” She scanned their surroundings again. The house was so open she could see all the way to the entrance still. “That one,” she pointed, “Is that an original baroque or something in the style?” She gave a hapless smile, this is as far as my knowledge goes, but I’m trying. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having. Or water,” she said, to be polite. At least water had never really tasted like anything in the first place.

“It doesn’t directly translate to either of those. I have a lot of life left to live, but seventy years is no short length of time for anyone.” Lydia replied, smiling. “Why would I become cynical or tired of it? The world has so much to experience and live for.” She sat on a stool by her kitchen table, as Morgan described her education. “Yes, I know the chapel. It’s incredibly beautiful.” Lydia looked down the hall and nodded. “It’s a Reubens. I do love the Baroque style.” She smiled, letting Morgan go from the discussion. “Water it is,” Lydia acquiesced, pouring Morgan a glass. “Now, shall we discuss that little deal of ours?”

“Oh,” Morgan said, chewing on the thought. “I guess, just because…” Life sucks and then you die. And sometimes you come back for even more hurt. She was able to think better of the statement and after a few moments of mouthing awkwardly in silence, “Humans do. Get cynical and tired. It doesn’t even take seventy years for most of them. I used to get crap for not being more...bitter, cautious, whatever. I was tired a lot, but maybe energy is different for fae.” She didn’t try to flex what little art factoids she had. Lydia was being nice and, fuck it, she’d let her be. Morgan had given her offerings, she made an effort, and despite Lydia’s airs of propriety, there was something about her that invited Morgan to drop her own pretensions and be herself. She gave a smaller, though more sincere smile and nodded gratefully. “Right! I said I’d do something for you. What kind of thing did you have in mind?”

“There are days that are terrible. Sometimes weeks or even years. To let that colour my entire life would be...wasteful.” Lydia replied, but knew it probably wasn’t what Morgan needed to hear right now. Losing another wasn’t the same as losing your own sense of self. Even if Morgan hadn’t lost her life, Lydia understood she currently felt like it. So she smiled, matching Morgan’s. “Yes. This is really… more of a heads up, if you will. I’m sure Deirdre is very careful with these things, with you. But if you’re to date a fae, you need to be aware that not all of us are as sweet as Deirdre or I, and that you might need to watch your words more carefully.” Lydia clasped her hands. “As for what I had in mind. I was thinking a small painting. I can offer you as much inspiration as you like. I don’t care if you paint the whole canvas blue, or if you throw the paint at it, or if you take rests. All of that is up to you. You could even take a knife to the canvas, for all I mind. Just create something, for me. That’s all I ask to end the promise.”

“Wait--what?” Morgan sputtered with confusion. She thought that Lydia was kidding. She had to be. A head’s up? “We’re always intentional with our promises, yeah,” Morgan said, straightening with a little pride. Their promises were better than any cheesy ring or one-time declaration any other couple might make. They were their trust, their fidelity, something that could stay true and real, even when Morgan could barely get out of bed. They never had to pull on the thread because they meant what they said. It only existed for something sudden, some hypothetical emergency or some time when the compulsion would be a comfort. What else would promises be good for, besides a proof of trust? Her expression wrinkled, confused and scrutinizing as she waited for some other punchline. Then her body began to ache, her insides burning and twisting. That was...weird. “Uh…” Her stomach tightened, and Morgan clenched her jaw to keep from dry heaving in front of Lydia. “Oh-kay.” She gripped the countertop to keep from doubling over. Was this--something fae let happen on purpose? “Canvas?” She asked, voice strained. “Can you, um, show me where, a-and paint, crayola crayons, whatever? Please?”

“Already set up,” Lydia replied smoothly, stepping over to help Morgan. “Darling, there’s no rush.” That would at least ease the ache that had Morgan keeling over, her jaw tight. Lydia tried to feel bad about it. She really did. It was the fae in her, that couldn’t stand to avoid taking advantage of such things. Perhaps it was a bit of a compulsion. She would have done it to anyone, really, and would expect it in return. “Come along here, and I’ll bring you something you can really taste.” Lydia lead Morgan to a pre-set up canvas and paints. It was a small canvas, A4 sized. If Morgan wanted to, she could cover the whole thing in a couple minutes flat. “There you go. As I said, darling, no rush, take the rests you want, paint what you like.”

Morgan’s insides unclenched at Lydia’s words. She let out a deep gasp, bracing herself again, just so she didn’t go to the floor in relief. She looked up at Lydia, bewildered by how quickly this had turned around into something...not at all like what she shared with Deirdre. Was this the ‘heads up’? The lesson she was supposed to get out of this. “T-thank you,” she said quietly, averting her gaze. She followed her at a distance, still feeling a little clammy, or maybe just shaken. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she asked the universe to help her feel again. She looked between Lydia and the canvas and back again. It was all...waiting for her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Okay. What I like. I can do that.” She tried to smile again, but she was too shaken to feel at ease just yet.

She lifted a drafting pencil and began to sketch out the bones of...whatever this was going to be. Why was this so hard? Of course she liked things. Morgan sectioned off the canvas for a close up landscape and set aside a circle for what she wanted to put in it. She had started on a base coat (she remembered that much from the extra curricular lectures she’d attended) when she worked up the nerve to ask, “So, can I ask--? When you say that other fae are not as sweet, do you mean...that they do this on purpose? For...what, exactly? I just...would like to understand better.”

“I mean that the kind of promise you made could be used for something much crueler than a simple painting.” Lydia sat down a few feet away from Morgan, watching her paint the base. She sat back, her wings fading into view as she considered the question. “We do it in part because it is our culture. To us, there is little more valuable than our word. That everyone else gives it so thoughtlessly is infuriating. There should be consequences for such things.” She turned her gaze back to Morgan. “When I was attacked by that vampire, when I was done being terrified, I was enraged. Not just because he’d turned me into a toy, or because he’d tried to kill me. What made me most angry was that we’d made a deal, and he went right against it. That made me more angry than the manner by which he did it.” Lydia shook her head to clear her mind. “I suppose though, perhaps what I want to warn you of, is that many fae don’t like other fae to date other species at all. That a commitment like the one you made to me could have been used to end the relationship between the two of you.”

Morgan could understand, a little, what it must be like to see everyone take for granted what was so essential to you. She still hadn’t been by to see the coven despite saying that she would, she needed to. It was too painful, too infuriating, to witness magic as if it were a matter of course when her power had died in the street with her heartbeat. She switched to a different brush and began to cover the canvas in blue before taking up another and layering a wide swath of green over it for grass. It was more of a clumsy child’s dreamscape than the spot in the woods by the river she had hoped to represent, but Lydia hadn’t asked her for the artistic value of her work. She paused, turning solemn as Lydia recounted the worst parts of her story to her. Morgan shook her head with dismay. “Vampires are the fucking worst,” she grumbled quietly. Then, with a little more poise she said louder, “He should never have done that. He should have to pay, pay to someone for being cruel in that way. I’m sorry, Lydia.”

At the suggestion that Morgan could be promise-tricked into deserting Deirdre, she put her brush down. “They might hate me, for being with her. I’m aware of that much,” she said solemnly. “But...we promised each other first. All she ever has to do is ask for me to come to her, and I will. Wherever she is, whatever else happens between us. Doesn’t that promise matter too?” They were careful. They still didn’t go shouting from the rooftops that they were together. But if fae could sense each other, it would only take one outing down the wrong street, bumping into the wrong person, for them to guess. “How do I keep that from happening?” She asked. “I didn’t...I was being sincere, Lydia, when I spoke to you about doing something. I just didn’t understand that it was possible to bind yourself without the word ‘promise.’” She picked up her brush again, sighing with dismay as more troubled thoughts floated and circled her brain. “I’m sorry for that too I guess.”

“He will. He made a deal, and now he will pay for it. As he should,” Lydia replied, sneering, before pushing the mysterious vampire out of her mind and out the conversation. Morgan had much more interesting things to say. “You made a promise to Deirdre that you would stay in a relationship with her?” Lydia asked. Deirdre could do Deirdre but… how completely bizarre. She’d have to ask Deirdre about it sometime. “Yes, any such promise has incredible value. There is a separate danger there. When an unstoppable force hits an immovable object, what breaks? Usually, the person who has made two opposing unbreakable promises.” It was rather gruesome, really. It was horrifying. Lydia had seen it happen to a couple humans, but had once seen it happen to a gancanagh she knew, barely eighteen years old. The whole fae population had gone into mourning over it. “You watch your words, carefully. Any time you commit to something, any time you indicate a favour owed. It takes practice. That’s why I wanted you to learn this now.” Lydia leant forward, her eyes softer than the situation should suggest. “I appreciate your apology, darling. I don’t doubt your good nature.”

“Oh, no, that’s--” Morgan couldn’t help but scoff darkly. “That’s definitely not what happened. Not that I would ever fuck with our agency like that in the first place, but Deirdre--” Deirdre had been more livid, more hurt than Morgan had ever seen her before, or since. Everything was vanishing behind one locked door after another. Morgan, with her cursed track record, had feared the worst. All because of some stupid words she hadn’t understood. Morgan couldn’t bring herself to explain the horrible details, the guilt of having caused that kind of hurt still haunted her mind. It rose up, prickling her peace like needles whenever things grew tense between her and Deirdre, and when they were so light and calm, they seemed too good to last. But the unpleasantness of that day in the woods was clear on her face as she stared into the distance before resuming her painting. “She would’ve released me in two seconds if that had been what I was trying. We weren’t in a good place, when I gave her that promise. But I wanted…” What she had really wanted was for all the badness to stop. And for Deirdre to not give up on her own humanity just because Morgan had wounded her by mistake. But Morgan did not know how to tell Lydia any of this, or if she even wanted to.

“I wanted her to know that I would always be there for her,” she said at last. “Even if we never got back to the kind of place we were at before, I would still want to be there for her, if that was something she might...want. Even a little. No relationship conditions, she could have frozen me out for weeks or months, and asked me over for just an hour or a night or a week. When you care about someone enough...when you love them, it shouldn’t matter if you’re in a fight or broken up over some stupid mistake or you haven’t spoken in awhile. If you love them, you want to be there no matter what, as long as they want you to. But that’s hard for people to believe. And not everyone means things like ‘oh, i still wanna be your friend,’ ‘yeah you can still count on me.’ But I meant it. So I gave her a promise. If she ever decided she wanted to see me again, I’d come. She only had to ask for me.”

Morgan began to paint the drop of canvas she’d sectioned off a bright orange. Not at all like the amber fossil kept safely in their bedroom, but close as she could figure from her selections. “We worked things out on our own, eventually. She’s never pulled on that thread, even once. And I’d come without pressing her to take that measure, obviously. But I like knowing it's there. There’s no telling what could happen, and it’s still true, so…” She looked over at Lydia, a little heartened by her softness. She nodded at her words, accepting the gravity of her situation, why she might feel compelled to go to all this trouble. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. You must care about Deirdre a lot, to look out for us.”

Lydia listened. This hadn’t been intended to be a backdoor into Deirdre’s private relationship or private thoughts, but as Morgan explained, Lydia began to relax and ease. Not just because she had for a second believed that Deirdre would have accepted such an ethically questionable promise. She listened attentively as Morgan talked, watching the attention by which Morgan painted. She deliberately wasn’t watching the actual painting, willing it to be a surprise, and to ensure that Morgan wouldn’t feel too imposed on. Beyond the literal imposition, of course. “I’m rather relieved to hear that, I must admit. The alternative would have been alarming. For the both of you.” Lydia settled and rolled her shoulders, stretching wing muscles as she did. “It is still a major commitment, but I’m glad you thought it through with her. I’m glad you were there to help her.” She smiled, softly, at Morgan’s comment. “I do. She’s a wonderful woman. Ultimately, I want her to be happy. Everything else is secondary.”

Morgan painted as best she could, which was, honestly, not very well. She began to add what was meant to be a squirrel picking flowers, caught in the lens of the orange drop, but her inexpert strokes morphed the image into a strange brown blob, almost sinister. “You don’t have to worry about that with me. I love her,” she said simply, setting the brush aside. She stepped back from her work. Not an artistic vision by any means, but it was covered. She gave Lydia a sidelong glance, wincing at just how awful it looked next to the art surrounding her. “I, uh, I tried,” she said. “It’s...well, it’s supposed to be things I like, but you should maybe display it out by the dumpster.”

Love. Morgan had used that word twice now, so that it couldn’t be an accident. Deirdre had said many things, but she had said nothing of love. Lydia looked down to her hands for a moment, at the smooth skin and the burgundy nails she wore today. She wondered if she’d be so kind, if Morgan was still human. She wondered if she would have done this at all, if Morgan never had been. Lydia set those thoughts aside. There was an edge to this kindness, that if asked about, Lydia couldn’t deny. One that perhaps they would forget about in time. Morgan turned the easel, and Lydia raised an eyebrow at the monstrosity that Morgan revealed. “I wouldn’t throw it away, this is a gift. We’ll call it… dadaist modern art, and call it a day. I am very grateful, Morgan. For everything.”

Morgan couldn’t help but notice the silence around her declaration. She wondered if it had to do with her being only recently un-human’d. If she had been dead all along, would Lydia believe her more, would she see it more clearly? Or would it only look right to her with a pair of wings at her back and fae blood in her cold veins? She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself to hide the self-consciousness. Lydia was being kind, but it was the sort of kindness that gritted its teeth against something else. She should probably count herself lucky, she reminded herself, that Lydia was trying at all. That she had, in some spare moments, tried to extend whatever counted as friendship for her kind of fae towards Morgan. “I don’t think I’ve done all that much,” she said, side-eyeing her handiwork again. “But I appreciate you taking this time with me too. I’d like to get to be your friend too. At some point.”

“You made more of an effort than I expected. That has value,” Lydia replied softly. She stood up, smoothing her skirt. “I think I’d like that too, at some point,” Lydia replied in turn. Perhaps not today. Perhaps not in a month. Perhaps not while Remmy was made to hate themselves for saving Morgan from her curse. Some point, though. It was an easy, commitment to make. “I also think I’ve taken up more than enough of your time, as pleasant as it has been to get to know you better.” She smiled, looking at the painting one more time. “I am truly happy for you and Deirdre. I’m glad you have each other.” I hope it stays that way. Deirdre didn’t need more heartbreak. As Lydia showed Morgan to the door, she thought that Deirdre wasn’t the only one like that, either.

#wr lydia #wr chatzy #wr lydia chatzy #wr deirdre #what are friends for

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confinesofpersonalknowledge · 6 years

Text

the m diaries

a series of short fics i wrote for my friend, who I am lucky enough to share a birthday with! this is for you, m, even if it’s late <3

pairings: logicality, background prinxiety

word count: 3667

warnings: i don’t think there are any for this? its the most fluff i’ve ever written. please tell me if i need to tag something!

taglist (general): @romanamongthestars @heir-of-the-founders @anthoscopus @ocotopushugs

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part one - a worthwhile ‘whisk’

It’s not a secret that Patton likes to bake - he does it often, and he does it well, and the others are not hesitant to show their appreciation of Patton’s baked goods. To say that Patton is a lover of food is to underestimate greatly, in Logan’s observations of the other Side.

It’s commonplace to find the other Side in the kitchen, a delicious smell wafting from the room alongside the hum of whatever song Patton was deciding to obsess over that day. Many days, it was a tune from Disney. Roman was quick to join in, happily singing along to whichever song Patton chose, dancing majestically in the dining area - alone, or with a partner. These days, he seemed to enjoy tugging Virgil into his dances, much to the blushing chagrin of the anxious Side.

Sometimes Roman or Virgil are recruited by Patton to help bake. Usually, this is a subtle maneuver from Patton whenever he notices that either is feeling particularly high-strung that day, lashing out more, or simply a bit quicker to give a reaction. And usually, he’s successful in cheering the others up, two flour-covered cheeks stretched in a dimpled simple difficult to ignore even by someone having the worst of days.

He’s yet to invite Logan into such an activity, though Logan supposes that, too, makes sense. Logan is rarely prone to the overly-emotional outbursts of the other three - he finds them frivolous and oftentimes unnecessary to achieving the best possible task. As such, Patton is less likely to notice when Logan is feeling particularly uncharitable, or, as he likes to put it, down in the dumps.

Usually, though, when Logan is feeling in such a way, he finds himself in the Commons, curled with a book he pretends to read as he listens to the consistent, calming noises of Patton rustling about in the kitchen, with his consistent humming. Logan finds comfort in the softness of their home in such moments, the simpleness of simply existing alongside Patton without need of their interaction, and getting along without saying a word. It’s… nice.

So finding Patton curled on one end of the couch, the cardigan Logan gave him fully on, no music or light streaming from the kitchen as the Commons are unusually enveloped in darkness is… surprising to say the least. Patton doesn’t say a word when Logan settles down next to him, barely glancing up at him. Though, in the brief moment where their eyes met, Logan suspects that he spotted a glimpse of bright tears swimming in Patton’s eyes.

Frowning to himself as he stood, Logan quietly made his way to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and ignoring the twing of something deep in his chest at the way Patton sniffled quietly in the Commons. Gathering the ingredients, vessels, and utensils necessary for Patton’s favourite dessert - triple fudge brownies - he began to quietly and gently place them on the counter, hoping they would catch the other Side’s interest.

When it’s been a few minutes and Logan has found himself halfway through the recipe with no sign of gaining Patton’s attention, he decides a more nuanced approach may be appropriate. Wiping his face on his shoulder, unknowingly smearing flour on his face, Logan washes his hands and quickly exits the kitchen, making the short way over to where the huddled form of Patton Sanders continues to sit.

Sitting down gently next to him, Logan waits until Patton spares him a glance to offer him an uncertain smile. When Patton does a double-take, that smile becomes a little more genuine, and surprisingly, a laugh bubbles in Logan’s throat when Patton pulls out of the curled position he had previously assumed - which must have been terrible on the Side’s back - to stare at him in shock. Standing up, offering a hand to help Patton do the same, Logan gently asks, “Would you like to bake with me?”

The beaming, though slightly wet, smile that Patton gives him is answer enough. Hours later, when Roman and Virgil descend the stairs into the Commons, drawn by the housewarming, drool-inducing smell of the triple fudge brownies set to bake in the oven, they find the forms of Patton and Logan in the kitchen, covered in flour and other various ingredients. Both are laughing, faces aglow under the crappy kitchen lights as they steal unknowing glances each other, admiration clear in their gazes. Both are oblivious to the outside world, and the knowing glances that Roman and Virgil slant at them, lost in each other’s eyes and the happiness they find hidden deep inside.

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part two - a four-am snack

See, the problem isn’t really the time; four-am is no stranger to Logan, not with his tendency to go off on late-night binges on Wikipedia, always constantly searching for new information, new things that he hadn’t known before, something to settle the restless itch in his mind that always pushes him to learn more, know more, find out more. It usually ends in badly-hidden dark circles under his eyes, and the slightly disapproving frown Patton slants at him in the mornings, forcing Logan to hide the slight hurt he feels at the look.

That is - being awake at four-am is not something new for Logan. For Patton, however, is another story altogether. The man is the very definition of early mornings and early nights - Logan doesn’t think he’s ever seen the pure embodiment of sunshine stay awake beyond 11pm on any night. And he’s always awake, no matter what, at 6am, in the kitchen happily humming as the delicious smells of breakfast waft through the house.

So, on the rare night in which Logan is actually asleep at four-am, he’s rather surprised to find Patton gently shaking him awake, grin bright and happy under his glasses. It’s far too bright for four in the morning, but Logan finds that he cannot bring himself to truly complain. Not when the full force of the same smile is directed straight at him, even if it is at four in the morning.

Speaking of which.

“Patton… why, exactly, are the two of us awake at four in the morning?” Logan asks, voice heavy with sleep as he pushes himself onto his elbows. Patton doesn’t reply, simply raising an excited finger to his lip in a shushing motion and grabbing Logan’s wrist, warm fingers curling snuggly around it.

Logan is suddenly glad it is too dark for Patton to see the red that crawls up his neck. He lets the shorter Side bounce ahead of him, eyes watching the bounce of soft curls as they head down the stairs.

The Commons are silent, save for the quiet fall of rain in the backyard outside. For once, the TV and the radio are off, silence settling into the Commons in a way that it rarely does when all four of them are awake. Darkness has quietly befallen the Commons, shadows gently reaching sleepy fingers towards the center of the room, where Patton happens to be dragging Logan anyway.

Logan follows the Side, mostly in a sleepy haze of confusion, until Patton is dragging him to sit down on the couch, the blinds having been opened to the outside world. Rain falls heavily and steadily, the world occasionally illuminated by flashing glimpses of lighting far in the distance, thunder rumbling quietly and comfortingly. Patton doesn’t say a word, but aims another one of his blindingly beautiful smiles at Logan, and Logan… understands, suddenly, what Patton wants from him without a single word.

Gently, he relaxes into the couch, feet drawing up underneath him in a comfortable fold as Patton settles in comfortably next to him. Silence curls around them, blanketing the moment in a kind of peace difficult to find in their rushing, energy-filled home during the day. And Logan could understand why Patton awoke him - for this, for a moment such as this, Logan wouldn’t mind waking up a million times.

The peace is a fragile thing, really - easily broken by the slightest of movement or the softest of noise. The background of the falling rain is soothing, a quiet reassurance to busy minds that moments of solitude and recuperation are available. Moments like these are difficult to find and even harder to catch. Some distant part of Logan is unimaginably grateful that Patton invited him to one - and chose to share it with Logan.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes slip close, his head tilting dangerously until he finds himself leaning on Patton. It draws a wide-eyed gaze from Patton, one that is quick to soften into something highly akin to fondness and love. Shifting them slightly into a much more comfortable position, Patton places a gentle kiss at Logan’s dark brow before slipping off both their glasses. Closing his own eyes, Patton allows himself to drift off.

In front of them, rain continues to gently fall. Lightning flashes illuminate both their faces as they sleep, a soft, different kind of peace settling quietly over the sleeping pair.

All is well.

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part three - a field day of flowers

It starts with Roman and Patton, and their overly-enthusiastic love of flowers, gardens, and flower gardens. And Virgil, who apparently spent one Wikipedia-fueled night with Logan on a binge of flower meanings and is unable to say no to Patton’s puppy dog eyes. Not that he has to, with Roman aiming a hopeful smirk at him. Virgil is especially weak to those, as Logan has come to note over the last few weeks.

It ends with Logan’s hair full of flowers, and Patton bounding up to him, grin firmly in place as he shoves bouquets of multi-coloured roses into Logan’s arm. How they end up there is the true story.

Logan finds that Roman has a very unsubtle way of trying to subtly pushing him into asking Patton out. That is - the field they are currently in is absolutely chock full of flowers that symbolize romance, and different forms of love that Logan does not necessarily want to admit that he feels.

They are bright and beautiful, much like Patton, who very much has a fondness of bright and beautiful things. Which means that when Patton goes running off to the fields, hands curling around wild red carnations, Logan cannot help the red flush that travel up his neck. And at the question Patton poses him, curls bouncing as he tilts his head, Logan has to take a moment for himself before he can bring himself to answer. After all, red carnations represent deep romantic love, as well as passion, and Roman is really bad at being subtle.

Logan spots Virgil’s influences when he sees jasmines in the distance, the long-stemmed white flower catching Patton’s eye at the same time it does Logan’s. And Logan remembers a distant conversation, months prior under a starry sky and a nervous Virgil far too anxious about approaching a certain prince in regards to his feelings. Logan had remembered jasmines, then, sitting under the stars with his best friend - remembered that they had a symbol for unconditional and eternal love. Patton comes dashing up with a gentle handful of them, quietly threading them into Logan’s hair as he stands stock-still, a blush alighting both their faces even as they avoid each others’ gazes.

Purple bellflowers are next to join the wild array of flowers in Roman’s field and Logan’s hair. Patton finds them, quietly cooing over how they remind him of Virgil even as he picks them, holding them out gently to Logan. By now, the blush is something far more permanent, stuck on his face as Patton gently tucks two bellflowers behind each of Logan’s ears. He’s not entirely sure that Patton is truly understand the meaning of the flowers he is presenting to Logan like a gift - bellflowers are said to symbolize unwavering love, after all.

It is the similar story with the asters, though Logan is the one to point out the small area where the white-and-yellow flowers grow. He isn’t really sure why he did it, though some instinct drove him to do it, some art of him wondering if Patton would appreciate the flower as he quietly explained the meaning of asters. (They were symbols of love, of trust.)

And that is the story of how they end up here - with Logan and an arrangement of flowers in his hair, each one more romantic in meaning, and Patton running up with more in his hand.

Except these are roses - red and white, together, coming together to represent a union, and red alone to mean true love - and Logan is not sure Patton is fully aware of the meaning his actions hold, of the things he has communicated silently to Logan. And Logan - he cannot bear it, cannot have false hope in the light of things unsaid, not when a large part of his world teeters hopefully on the axis of the brightness in Patton’s eyes, and the pangs of sadness that overcome him when that brightness dulls, even for a moment. Of this, Logan must be sure.

And so he asks, voice quiet and gentle and hopeful despite his every attempt to keep it impassive. To be sure that he is not selling his heart away to someone who does not want, has never wanted it.

Patton only smiles and boops Logan’s nose, smiling as he calls Logan silly, saying that he’s been trying to send a message the entire time.

Logan smiles.

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part four - a midnight wait

It is 5 minutes away from midnight on the night of April 30th, and Logan is suddenly nervous. It’s like every minute has slowed down to a crawl as he awaits the inevitable striking of midnight, and the shift into May - May 1st being, of course, Patton’s day of birth.

He’s likely being irrational about this event in its entirety. It is not, in any shape or form whatsoever, unusual or irrational to stay awake until the moment when a new day is born simply to extend birthday wishes to a friend - Logan has experienced the same from his friends often. But Patton - Patton is not just any other friend. No, he cannot be, not with the giant crush Logan has on him.

4 minutes now, and all Logan can think about is Patton’s bright blue eyes and the way they light up behind his glasses whenever he sees Logan. The rush of happiness Logan gets at seeing the happiness in Patton’s eyes, the way the blue eyes see more, understand more than anyone else Logan has known. Here is the truth, raw and honest, if Logan was to ever give it: Patton is much smarter than others make him out to be, much smarter than he himself makes him out to be. After all, intelligence is not simply a measure of knowledge useful in schools - there are countless kinds of intelligence, and Patton is the most emotionally-intelligent person Logan has ever had the pleasure to know, the pleasure to be friends with. It is all written in his eyes.

3 minutes, and Logan’s thoughts shift to Patton’s smile. It has never failed to draw the attention of people - it’s the biggest compliment Patton gets, that his smile is wide and beautiful. And, seeing it from an absolutely objective viewpoint, it is a beautiful smile - the most beautiful Logan has seen adorning the frankly perfect beautiful face of the most wonderful human Logan has had the privilege of knowing. Patton’s smile is enough to light up a room, enough to bring cheer even to the most of upset of people when all else has failed. It’s one of the most wonderful things about him.

2 minutes, and Logan is suddenly struck with the image of Patton’s freckles. They’re everywhere, adorning most of Patton’s face with their grace and their beauty, and Logan wants to spend every day of his life counting them over and over again, tracing the constellations in them and finding new ones. They’re mini-stars on Patton’s cheek, an universe spreading itself across the bridge of Patton’s nose for Logan to appreciate in the moments when there is quiet and peace across the room - and sometimes in the ones where there is not. He’s often been caught staring at the freckles, mentally counting them, tallying up the counts in his mind and committing them to his memory.

1 minute - Logan is truly nervous now, a strange kind of energy humming in him as his grip tightens around his phone. This birthday feels different somehow, as if it means more than a simple wish on a simple minute. He and Patton have been dancing around each other for awhile now, neither acknowledging their emotions or doing something that would bring their awkward dance to a stop, neither willing to take the initiative if the other isn’t. But of course, each moment is important, and as Logan sits in bed, phone in hand, he knows that this birthday will bring something new into his life, and into Patton’s.

0 minutes.

Me to Patton <3: Happy Birthday, Patton. May all the wishes you may want come true.

Patton <3 to you: Aww, thank you Logan! See you later today! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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part five - dental shenanigans

Logan has a tendency to wear a straight face like a mask - neutrality is his natural state, and oftentimes it is mistakenly misread for displeasure. It’s highly ever the case - Logan is a serious man, and he does not like to display his emotions for everyone to see. He takes them for a sign of weakness - he should be strong enough that he is the only one he needs to deal with, and understand his emotions, in his mind. It’s a mentality Patton works hard to get rid of.

Of course, that is a Logan who is not high on anesthesia following a dental procedure. A Logan who is high on anesthesia is a completely different story, as Patton is about to learn.

It’s like this - a high Logan is one that lowers the boundaries he has, the walls he has built to exclude almost every and isolate himself into a fortress of solitude, as illogical as it may be. Which means he’s no longer suppressing the emotions that rise and fall in his chest like waves.

Patton sees this when he first enters the room, Logan’s eyes immediately jump to Patton, forgetting everything and everyone else in the room as a wide grin splits his lips, Patton’s name tumbling out his mouth in a happy cry. The nurse shook her head fondly in the corner, knowing she’d lost the war for the man’s attention from the moment a nervous-looking Patton had stepped into the room.

Patton, for his part, was no less dramatic. He was quick to run over to Logan’s side, grabbing his hand as he stared in worry at the usually stoic man, not registering that Virgil had ducked into the room behind him, phone ready in his hand as he snickered quietly to himself, video already rolling. He had eyes only for Logan, and it seemed that Logan only had eyes for Patton.

This would be fun to show to Logan when he wasn’t quite as loopy in the morning, but for now, Virgil was going to take as much advantage of this as he could. Nothing like a little bit of blackmail for the man who had piles of blackmail on the others, stored safely away.

Virgil has to bite his lips to stop his laughter when Logan suddenly throws his arms around Patton’s shoulders, loudly declaring him the most perfect of angels, giggling as Patton automatically hugged him back before quietly whispering that Patton gave the best hugs, ever.

Roman was really going to hate that he’d missed this, especially because Virgil was too busy shaking with laughter to really hold the camera steady. It was an experience in-and-of itself to see Logan so… open with his emotions, especially in front of people he wasn’t familiar with in the first place. And for the man to do it so flamboyantly, as well, in a manner that didn’t fail to remind Virgil of Roman’s overly-extravagant way of speaking and acting altogether. It was as if Logan was a whole new man in such a loopy state.

Though it was becoming clearer that Patton didn’t quite know how to handle Logan in such a state, judging by the way that Patton clung to Logan, not allowing him to fall but not really holding him as if he was hugging him. Virgil supposed it was fair enough - none of them had really ever seen Logan so… extra, before.

Before Virgil can do anything, however, Logan pulls away, hands coming up to grab Patton’s face as he gasps, before loudly and suddenly asking, “Oh my god, are you an angel?”

Patton giggles lightly, reaching up and fixing the crooked glasses on Logan’s face before responding, “No, I’m Patton, silly.”

Logan gasps again, hands covering Patton’s own on his face, “But that’s the best thing to be! Patton’s are so cool, and fun, and nice, and sweet, and smart, and funny, and they make the best puns! My Patton is really, really cool! Have you met him?”

Virgil laughs at the blush covering Patton’s entire face, though Patton’s voice is steady as he responds, “Really? You should really tell your Patton you feel this way. I bet he would be really happy if you did.”

Logan smiles sleepily at Patton, eyes blinking slowly as he whispers, “Okay, Patton! If you say so, though no telling him! I want to tell him when I wake up, okay? No telling Patton, you have to pinky promise me.”

Patton pinky-promises Logan, and Logan only smiles again, before succumbing to his own exhaustion and slipping into sleep, hand still holding Patton’s lightly, their pinkies linked. Patton makes no move to unlink them, even as Virgil approaches quietly, ready to tease the hell out of his friend.

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Comments and reblogs are highly, highly appreciated and also lifeblood. Ofc, no forcing. <3 have a good night

#logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders side fic #logicality fluff #so much fluff #background prinxiety #an writes #my writing #AHH PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS ILL LOVE U FOREVER #I CRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE #IM NOT GOOD AT FLUFF BE GENTLE PLS #hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn

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randomisedgaming · 6 years

Text

Steel Strider - Review - Vol 21

Format: Windows PC Publisher: Nyu Media Developer: Astro Port Release year: 2015 Genre: Run & Gun Shooter / Platformer

Randomised Gaming reviewed the Steam digital download version of Steel Strider on a Windows 7 PC.

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To some the words budget title, can conjure the images of some horrible looking cheap and broken game with a cover art that closely resembles a well-known franchise from a more famous company. In other cases it might mean a re-release of a classic game from yesteryear covered in a new unpleasant sliver packaging, designed to taunt the owner that they didn't buy the game when it first came out.

These days, thanks to services like Steam, Xbox Live Arcade, PlayStation Network and the rise and return of small interdependent developers. The price of the game doesn't in the slightest reflect the quality and that budget game you just bought, for £1.99 can be every bit as good as that £49.99, big budget title, if not better.

Which is a good thing, as for us at Randomised Gaming the price of the title means nothing it's what's under the hood that counts. The only factor that really comes into play on cost is the length of a game, as you don't expect a hundred hours epic story adventure if you are paying £4.79 for a title.

The second world has a very sci-fi feel and the look is a real throwback to the days of the Amiga home computer

Steel Strider is a run and gun shooter crossed with a platformer, much like Konami's Contra series, but nowhere as hard. Developed by Astro Port, a studio who has made a name for themselves on producing retro themed arcade games with a modern look and feel. The game itself is a sequel to Astro Port's previous title Gigantic Army with Steel Strider taking place a number of years after Gigantic Army finished. Other nods include the SALADIN mech from the first game appearing as the boss at the end of the first world and the second mission sees you returning to the planet Ramulon from Gigantic Army to stop another outbreak of war. The plot from the third mission is directly linked to another space shooter from Astro Port called SATAZIUS.

As the name would suggest the game is packed full of giant robots, mechs or mechas pending which name you prefer. It's also packed with lots of guns too, as you will be blasting just about everything in sight. Added to that you have a nice Gundam / Star Wars inspired beam saber just in case anything gets to close for comfort.

That description may well conquer up images of Masaya's Assault Suit/s series (Target Earth / Cybernator for us in the west) in your head and you would be spot on. As Steel Strider clearly homages these games. This is a perfect example of a modern shooter and when you're not gunning down the rank and file infantry. Which come in all shapes and sizes, from small bomb carrying droids to large walker with mount rockets and laser cannons. You can expect to see plenty of full screen world destroying boss units.

Huge boss battles really are one of Steel Strider's highlights

Steel Strider is fast and frantic, for skilled run and gun player's like myself I was able to finish the game on normal in around two and a half hours. Steel Strider offers four difficulties and if you want to see everything the game has to offer, then you will have to at least finish the game on hard or insane, to see the true final boss. The higher difficulties also change up some of the enemies seen in each level.

Steel Strider is about 80% shooting mixed with about 20% platforming. Most of the shooting action is very much point, click and fire. There isn't a huge amount of tactics involved as most of the standard units can be blasted anywhere. They also normally attack in huge numbers, so it's best just to clear the enemies as quickly as you can. There's the odd shielded enemy and some of the bosses have to be damaged via a weak point, but most of them can be damaged anywhere.

Much of the gameplay involves picking your favourite gun and blast anything in slight while dodging their fire, nice and simple. You have full 360 degree fire control so you can shoot enemies from any angle you choose. Speaking of guns there's eight different weapons to find over the course of the game. While the default handgun is designed as a last resort weapon, owning to having unlimited ammo, its damage is very weak.

A shotgun down a narrow corridor, is a sure way to clear robot mobs

You will be quickly looking to use alternative weapons like the assault rifle or shotgun, later weapons include rockets and the all powerful railgun. Each weapon performs differently and learning in which situation to use each weapon is a vital skill. The shotgun is great for hitting rapidly moving enemies, while the rocket launcher is perfect for dealing high damage to bosses.

Limited ammo for these weapons, however, means they should be used sparingly as you don't want to walk into a boss fight with just the beam sword and handgun, unless you're testing your gaming skills. Later stages include upgrades to the various weapons, but these upgrades don't change the balance much and as you are given them wholesale as the game progresses, they don't really feel like a reward for good performance or exploring a level.

The game supports both mouse & keyboard and joypad options, the controls themselves are very straightforward and easy to learn. While normally I would prefer to use a joypad for this type of game, I found the joypad controls on Steel Strider rather twitchy and a bit unresponsive, when using an official Xbox 360 pad. In the end I found the game easier to control with the mouse & keyboard. As this set up controlled faster and was more responsive, even if this wasn't my preferred choice of controls.

The opening section of stage 3 sees you taking to the skies

Steel Strider included four unique worlds, each made up of a number of stages. Each world has its own setting the first is on a mountain planet, second a yellow mining world, you have a green gas world for the third and an urban city for the final one. The art direction of Steel Strider is one of the weaker areas of the game as the interior stages all look the same and largely the colour scheme uses far too many grey textures. Making the game very bland looking and it subtracts from the great design work done for some of the mech units in game. On the whole the mech sprite are far more colourful and very contrasting with the background, perhaps this was intended so you could easily see the incoming enemy fire clearly. It ends up making the game feel rather drab as you explore each world.

The level design in part managed to make up for this, as each stage has its own theme. World two adds in a few stealth sections and includes an impressive chase along a train. While world three sees you boosting through the clouds to board a stolen cruiser. These add a nice touch to each of the worlds. However, these extra sections are often over a bit too quickly and then it's back to shooting robots down a long corridor. Still nothing in this game lasts that long and you quickly move from stage to stage. While the level design isn't quite to the quality of Cybernator / Assault Suits Valken, Steel Strider's design is well paced with enough new twists along the way to keep you playing until the end.

Even this train doesn’t stand a chance against this giant circular saw robot, don’t stop moving

When you're not shooting, there's a fair amount of jumping nothing too taxing, in part due to the huge jetpack mounted on your back, which allows you to hover and glide over platforms. There are few bottomless pits to watch out for that kill you instantly, but with checkpoint at every section, you rarely have to replay more than a minute or two. The main use of the jetpack is to primarily time your jumps to avoid the onslaught of enemy fire directed your way. The odd saying “anything you can do, I can do better” springs to mind, as for every weapon you have, the enemies have, a fast, longer and bigger version. So expect to jump, duck and dive, out of the way of rockets, bombs, missiles, lasers and much much more. Just remember hazard pay isn't included.

Story wise there's not a huge amount apart from the mission briefings you encounter before and during each level. Asides from a few very short in-game cutscenes. It mainly boils down to the fact you are a special force unit, guided by an operator, running shadow operations to prevent wars. There's a slightly interesting moral twist at the end of the game, but that's for you the reader to discover. However, the quality of the English script and text, leaves a lot to be desired. It's functional, but doesn't flow at all well.

These bland mission briefings are pretty much it for the story

The music fits the steel theme of the game nice, with a nice section of techno music perhaps a nod to the music from the 16bit era. Nice to listen too as you play, but very forgettable stuff and nor is it going to rouse emotions like the superb soundtrack for Front Mission on Super Nintendo. A decent soundtrack, but not a great one.

Audio wise the sound effects are what you expect in this type of game with mechanical noises and explosions going off everywhere. Which more than suffices, as you don't really need to listen to detailed affects, when you're constantly blowing up everything in sight.

There is a scoring system included and Steel Strider also keeps a record of your playthrough time, if you decide you want to improve on your personal best time. The scoring system did seem fairly basic and the highest score awards seemed to be for just finishing a stage without take a hit.

The final forth mission gets very hectic in places

That just about covers everything there is to say, performance on out test unit was perfect and the game has fairly low minimum specs for modern PC titles. Option are very limited and the game only has 640x480 and 1024x768 resolution support. There is a wide screen aspect option, but this didn't work for me and just put the game into a tiny window. The lack of options was somewhat of a let down as most gamers would expect at least 1440x1080 support in-game and ideally 1920x1080p.

Unstoppable robot soldier or twisted and broken scrape metal?

Taken as a whole the gameplay of Steel Strider is fairly standard for the genre, it's a run and gun and these games always tend to get pretty repetitive at times. While Steel Strider is far from the best example of the genre it does a good job of capturing the spirit of more well-known games, if not quite putting it altogether correctly. The bland nature of some of the levels is ultimately what stops Steel Strider from reaching greater heights.

Even in some of the boss battles, you have to watch your footing to avoid falling off!

As a veteran of the genre, it kept me playing all the way to the end, even if it did only take two hours to finish. While it might not offer a huge amount of replay value you can't complain at the budget price it was launched at and there's at least enough to keep you coming back for a second playthrough on hard to see the true final boss. Even the great classic that is Cybernator / Assault Suits Valken wasn't exactly a long game to finish either.

Is Steel Strider as good as the big classics like Contra, Metal Slug, Metal Warriors, Front Mission Gun Hazard, Assault Suits Valken & Leynos 1 and 2. Short answer is no, is it worth your money, however, well yes! Both Steel Strider and its prequel Gigantic Army can be found in a bundle with most of Astro Port's other games on Steam, at a very reasonable price, well worth the cost of admission.

While picking up original copies of games like Cybernator aren't that cheap, digital options are available. (time of writing Virtual Console is still up on Wii & Wii U, just) Where as Metal Warriors on SNES is very hard to find these days and very expensive. The Metal Slug series on the other hand is available on just about every post mid 90s console going.

The Trafalgar from SATAZIUS helping out the player, in a cameo role

It's fair to say, you should aim to purchase and plays the mentioned titles first, before looking at Astro Port's offerings. If you have played all the latter games and want something new to try out, then these budget games by Astro Port should be right up your street. You can certainly pay a lot more for far worse, Contra: Legacy of War or Scud: The Disposable Assassin, anyone?

Minimum Spec on Steam: OS: Windows 2000, XP, 7, or 8 Processor: Pentium 4 1.4GHz or better Memory: 512 MB RAM Graphics: NDIVIA Geforce series, AMD(ATI) Radeon series Storage: 100 MB available space Sound Card: DirectSound-compatible Sound Card

Astro Port Official website: http://www.interq.or.jp/saturn/takuhama/dhc.html Nyu Media website: http://nyu-media.com/category/astro-port/

Review by Random Gamer Riven.

Twitter: RDGamerRiven

Email: [email protected]

Follow Randomised Gaming on Tumblr, for video game, art, reviews, features, videos and more. You can also follow us on twitter and subscribe to us on YouTube for even more Randomised Gaming content.

#Steel Strider #PC #Windows #Nyu Media #Astro Port #Steam #review #reviews

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sveasauvageon · 4 years

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On pleure mais on survit quand même C'est la beauté du requiem || HSWW

☾♔; February 22, 2018 ☾♔; sotd: X-Files Theme (by Mark Snow, I think) ☾♔; cotd: DANA MOTHERFCKING SCULLY ☾♔; Plotting + Relationships ☾♔; {G} https://goo.gl/PnjH23 ☾♔; Mod(s): @.miky94

Title: lyrics from Requiem by Alma

Svea Sauvageon is FINALLY open for plotting.

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Audition: https://goo.gl/9JRWrR Aesthetics and Such: https://goo.gl/qDJazT Svea's Playlist: https://goo.gl/vaSFwA Svea x Henry Playlist: https://goo.gl/Wwgx4s Wardrobe: https://goo.gl/g8rBdV Sauvageon Family Aesthetics: [placeholder] All Sets: https://goo.gl/5HG1rA

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Format credit to @.natasha-maree13, @.themadmonarchist, and @.lady-stoneheart because I somehow managed to mix together (rip off) all three of you.

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Plotting Rules and Guidelines: I. Please put some thought and effort into your suggestions, I'm going to ignore anything that says something to the effect of "I dunno, here's my set, what do you think." That's just lazy and rude. I won't straight up ignore something that just says "friends" with no explanation, but I would appreciate more effort that that. It's doesn't have to be a George R. R. Martin book, but at least a sentence or two. Please and thank you.

II. If I say nyet to something, I don't just mean nyet forever, stay away from my baby. I just may not like the idea or it may not work with my character, and I will usually offer a counterproposal, but if I'm out of ideas, I'll let you know, and we can bounce around different ideas until we're both satisfied. S III. Please remember to attach your plotting sets. XD

☆──════♦basics♦════──☆

| full name: Svea Richelle Estelle Sauvageon

| nicknames: Vea (Vay-ah), V, the Swede, Stella (by her Grandmama), my moon and stars (Grandpapa), Richelle (her mother), princess (papa)

| age: 17 (or 16 if we're starting the group in September, but she'd turn 17 in 3 months)

| gender: female

| sexuality: heterosexual

| birth date: November 23

| blood status: pure-blood (though, not the purest. Her mother's family is a straight-up blood-purist type family, but her father's is far more open, and if you trace back 5 generations, there's a muggle-born, as well as muggles and etc further back. So technically, she is a "pure" blood, since that term is generally applied to someone whose ancestors up to their grandparents have no muggle or muggle-born blood, but there are numerous muggles and muggle-borns if you go back beyond that, on her father's side. Her mother's is as inbreed as the royal families of the real world.)

| place of birth: Enköping, Sweden

| accent: alternates between Swedish and Posh English, usually depending on her level of anger/passion

| pet: a tiger patterned kitten, super smol and super cute, but has been a "kitten" for a suspiciously long time. It's been tiny and like a baby since she first got it in her fourth year, though she simply claims that it's a rare Swedish breed. She named it Vhagar.

| patronus: dragon (Swedish Short-Snout)

| wand: Acacia wood with a dragon heartstring core, 11 ¾" in length and rather inflexible

| residence: Hogwarts Castle (September through May), Prince Estate, located near Cornwall (rest of the year, and more legally speaking, than physically, rarely spends more than two weeks there), Sauvageon Estate, located in Enköping, Sweden (generally where she spends her holidays)

☆──════♦hogwarts stats♦════──☆

| house: Slytherin

| year: seven

| best class: Arithmancy and History of Magic (honestly, she's great at all of her classes, but those two are her highest scores)

| worst class: none

| favourite class: care of magical creatures

| o.w.l.s: outstanding in all subjects

| extracurriculars: Quidditch (Slytherin Chaser)

☆──════♦appearance♦════──☆

| overall: she's quite physically attractive (and she's aware of it), she tends to draw stares where ever she goes, and that's not including her extravagant style and taste in friends. Alongside being generally super beautiful, she's also physically fit (having been a chaser for years), has high cheekbones, and an overall very gorgeous, European look.

| hair colour: blonde, sometimes magically died platinum/silvery-gold (because she's a nerd)

| hair style: long, and generally tied into a different style everyday; ponytails, elaborate braids, etc. When's she's feeling lazy, she'll just leave it free, yet it always ends perfectly straight without any effort on her part.

| eye colour: light blue

| body: slim and athletic

| ethnicity: caucasian (Swedish/British with French ancestry)

| height: 1.73m/5'7"(ish)

| style: erratic, she wears numerous styles, and doesn't really have one exactly, though if you wanted to summarize her closet in a single word; expensive would be that word. She prefers clothes of silk, cashmere, or leather, and tends towards gem embellished things.

| faceclaim: Cara Delevingne

☆──════♦persona♦════──☆

| personality: Svea is an "odd" Slytherin, as she does not prescribe to the concept of blood purity in the least, nor is she an active bully. She's Swedish (half), they're an amazingly liberal and socialist country, and she's quite proud of that. However, that doesn't mean she's not an arrogant, full of herself, elitist arsehole, because she absolutely is. In fact, one could argue that she's more arrogant and elitist than the average Slytherin, since she feels she's earned her arrogance. She's an extremely dedicated, hardworking, and ambitious person, going above and beyond for everything she attempts. She's a high-achieving, type-a sort of person, she believes that if you want something, you need to work to earn it, a line of thinking which sometimes alienates her own housemates, but if you don't have any skills of note, you're not worthy enough to chill with her. She's extremely opinionated, and passionate, and generally walks around like she owns the place. However, despite being one of the biggest elitist arseholes around, she's also, contradictorily, extremely liberal. The most clear example of her liberalism being her hatred of the concept of blood purity. She was raised on Swedish ideals, a very liberal and socialist nation where blood purity or "impurity" was irrelevant, blood is blood, move the fck on. Discrimination on things like blood status or socio-economic status, she will not allow because that's stupid af and Slytherin is not a house for morons. Despite her elitism, when she's your friend, she's heavily involved, from studying to hanging out, whatever. She cares deeply when she cares and will not tolerate any harm coming to those for whom she cares, hexing such people with barely a second thought.

Svea is someone who tends to internalize her own problems, she's highly self-aware and when genuinely hurt by something or someone, she tends to just walk away and brood silently in a dark corner. She sees herself as a leader and leader's can't go around showing weakness, so she struggles to open up about that side to even her closest friends (also most of her friends are probably arseholes, Slytherins, so that's not the best idea anyway). Having said that, she's always around to give (unsolicited) advice/offer to hex someone. She's not a very loose or "go with the flow" type of person, she hates such thinking, like, no, think about what you want to do. Fun is best when it's planned well in advance. She's mildly OCD, it's not obsession, it's the correct way of doing things. She won't throw a tantrum (generally), but will move her things back into place. However she's not what we would call neat, she leaves her things all over, though she claims that's it's "controlled chaos", and she does always seem to immediately find whatever she was looking for. Svea is rather independent, and goes about her business with little care for what others think about it. She is a little vain, but like, look at her, why shouldn't she be? And has zero trouble using her beauty to manipulate people into doing what she wants. She's somewhat aggressive and rather commanding, generally speaking to elders and fellow students with the same tone of mild to moderate superiority, but contradictorily, is quite helpful and nice to first years (what, she has a soft spot for smol, cute things).

Despite all her elitism, and superiority complex, Svea is a passionate and hardworking individual who puts her all into work and friendship. She cares deeply when she cares, and generally has an attitude of "if you want respect, earn it."

| likes: stupid puns, muggle space exploration science, quidditch (Vrastra Vultures forever btches!), winter, snow, muggle technology, EUROVISION (hey, she's a European, and a Swede, they love the Eurovision), Melodifestivalen, muggle EuroPop music, football (aka soccer, but she European, she call it by its proper name. Also, ARSENAL FOREVER BÌTCHES), Aaron Ramsey, muggle history, magical history, the stars, the night sky, a song of ice and fire (of course), Dragons, Sweden, magic, her wand (precious), Tolkien's Middle-Earth, Vhagar (precious baby), muggle comedy panel shows, herself (ya seen her? She's real pretty), emeralds, satin, muggle drinks (vodka and ice coffee with caramel are delicious, she will fight you), firewhiskey, rain, kittens, dragons, magic

| dislikes: rude people (there's a difference between being full of yourself and having manners), Hogwarts magic interfering with her muggle shít, her housemates making fun of her muggle shít (like, excuse me, but can your old af radio playing all 1000+ Eurovision songs at any time of day? That's what I thought), "woman" being used as an insult (she is a woman, and better than you, so fúck off), bertie botts every flavour bean (it's the "every" flavour that repulses her), idioticy, unearned elitism (if you wanna act superior, fine, but at least have something that makes you superior, and blood is not one of those things), Cornwall, camomile tea (it's disgusting), corduroy, roses, her things being moved

| hobbies: reading, learning, football, just hanging out with her friends (forcing them to watch Eurovision)

| habits: - eye rolling (so much eye rolling) - tends to tune out her entire environment when she's in "the zone" (no longer walks and reads because she has run into and fallen off of stuff) - twirls her hair with her wand when she's thinking (like how we use fingers) - Swears a lot - hums Eurovision songs around 90% of the time

| talents: - multilingual (English, Swedish, French, Russian, German, and Danish) - magic (she has yet to encounter a form of magic she does not immediately excel at) - memory (it's not really eidetic or photographic, because it's not instant, but after 3 reads of a thing, she can rattle off the whole thing word for word) - making references (that's a talent right? Because otherwise, I am screwed) - emotional manipulation/acting (works best on people that don't know her, she can still manipulate other people, but it takes a little more effort and time) - obsessing (again, totally a talent right because otherwise I have literally no skills)

| boggart: her mother

| amortentia smells: fresh coffee (though the taste disgusts her, hence she pumps caramel into her ice coffee), newly laundered clothes, and petrichor (the scent of wet earth after a recent rain fall)

☆──════♦family and such♦════──☆

| Petter Albrecht Alvar Sauvageon Father || FC: Colin Firth Svea was very close to her father, and inherited his love of the muggle world. Her fondest memory is attending a Eurovision Song Contest Grand finale with him as a child before being forced to move to Britain. Petter was a rather Swedish fellow, charming, pretty, very liberal, socialist, feminist. When Svea was 13, and Lili 8, he disappeared whilst he, some colleagues and magical law enforcement were hunting a dragon dealer by the Sea of Azov. He attended Durmstrang and did not like it there. Svea and Lili called him "Papa".

| Diana Elizabeth Charlotte Prince Mother || FC: Rachel Weisz Svea and her mother have a ... complicated to say the least. Well, to be honest, Svea doesn't like her very much and they do not get along. Svea dislikes her maternal family, personality-wise, she is similar to them, she's an elitist arsehole just like them, but feels they do not have the merits to walk around like they own England. When Svea was first born, Diana simply preferred to believe she didn't exist, and considers her a mistake, though as the 10th anniversary of her mistake approached, her father convinced her to bring the child to Britain to attend Hogwarts as no blood of his would attend an inferior, foreign school. Diana is a traditional pureblood, and makes clear her deep resentment and disappointment of Svea for being a blood traitor. Despite their dislike of each other, however, the mother and daughter are rather alike, both being ambitious, high-achieving type-a people. Although they maintain a strict distance from each other, her mother's opinion and lack of maternal love does bother Svea, though she stubborn refuses to talk about it and tends to shove those feelings between 60 layers of anger and bitterness. Svea calls her "Mother" with about 397 layers of salt and sarcasm in her tone.

:: Sauvageon Family ::

The Sauvageon's are a very family old wizarding family, they were originally French, and later immigrated to Sweden in the late 1700's. Unlike most ancient wizarding families (particularly the British ones), they have never shied away from breeding with muggles and muggleborns, often gaining the label of "blood traitor" from the British families, but they're Swedish, and blood density is irrelevant there. There are as liberal and socialist as their country. Despite being loathed by the blood purist-type families, they are still approached very few generations for marital matches, as they are exceedingly wealthy and when the aforementioned house runs out of options.

| Ludvig Danel Freyr Sauvageon Paternal Grandfather || FC: Sir Patrick Stewart Cutie patootie grandpa, called Grandpapa by Svea and Lili, he's super dorky and a massive nerd, easily amused and genuinely a happy fellow. His anger, said to be rare, is apparently a sight to behold.

| Linnéa Nathalie Petra Sauvageon née Magnusdotter Paternal Grandmother || FC: Dame Judi Dench Boss as.s b.tch aka Grandmama, she's generally the person in charge. Super class and elegant af, commanding, witty, and super awesome. One of Svea's role models and basically # life goals.

| Brigitta Camilla Vanja Sauvageon Paternal Aunt || FC: Gillian Anderson Classy, straightforward, elegant, and badas.s, has an unclear high-ranking role in the Swedish Ministry of Magic.

| Kåre Lukas Alexander Sauvageon Paternal Uncle || FC: James D'Arcy Pretencious, but fundamentally good hearted. He's an art collector, of both muggle and magical artists.

| Iliana Vyacheslavovichna Drubetskaya Step-mother || FC: Lena Headey Svea gets along rather well with her step-mother, and admires her quite a bit. Iliana and her father married when Svea was 4, so she's known her for quite a while, and share a rather maternal bond. She was also the person who taught Svea Russian and the two used it to tease and joke about her father in front him (because he couldn't speak it). She played for the national Russian Quidditch team, but retired 10 years ago because of injury. She now writes about Quidditch matches and players in a sports column for the local Swedish Wizarding Paper, and occasionally does commentary.

| Lena "Lili" Petterovna Sauvageon Younger Half-sister || FC: Dafne Keen Just began her second year at Koldovstoretz, the Russian Wizarding school. She's precious and adoring, and like a tiny Svea, though much nicer and less elitist, and sends Svea a letter by owl nearly daily (receiving one in return at the same consistency). They write their letters in Swedish since it's unlikely for any of their fellow students to be able to read them. They're super attached and close, and adorable af!

:: Prince Family ::

An old English, pure-blood wizarding family, they are fervent purportors of the concept of blood supremacy and purity, and proud Slytherins. Having all been sorted into the House dating back to Salazar Slytherin himself (or so they claim). Due to centuries of inbreeding with other pureblood families (who are all cousins at this point), the Princes tend to have the following traits; violent tendencies, mental instability, and some are enfeebled (though the family goes to great lengths to hide and eliminate such members). Additionally, due to their close genetics, the family additionally has trouble conceiving, generally ending up with only one child born per generation.

| Marcius Titus Polaris Prince Maternal Grandfather || FC: Sir Michael Caine Svea does not like her grandfather in the least, nor does he particularly like her, they define incompatibility between generations. She's considers him a relic of a dying time, and he considers her an uppity, idiotic child not worthy to have a drop of his blood running her veins.

:: other ::

| Lara Coburg Muggle Childhood Best Friend || FC: Holliday Grainger A muggle Svea met when enrolled in muggle schools as a child, and thick as thieves, regularly write to each other (though Lara asks the Sauvageon's to send her letters to Svea, and Svea has her owl send them to the family estate instead of Lara's home), and hang out whenever they can. She's aware of the magical world, and has been sworn to secrecy by the magical and non-magical Swedish governments (which was cool 'cause she got to meet the then PM - the muggle one).

☆──════♦biography♦════──☆

Svea is half-Swedish, half-British, her father was Swedish wizard and renown dragonologist; Petter Sauvageon, her mother; Diana Prince, is an accomplished and revered employee at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Her parent's never married, her being the result of a liaison, which the Swedish part of her family couldn't give less of a fck about, but the British half are extremely embarrassed by. She was born in semi-secrecy, the Prince's very much wanted to pretend she did not exist, and tried to hide Diana's pregnancy in England, claiming she was taking a long earned, and extensive year long holiday abroad. The Sauvageon's, however, did not give a sht, and happily excitedly told their friends about their first grandchild (but they kept the identity of the mother a secret because they're not arseholes, and found her constant reminders to be a nuisance). She was born in the Sauvageon Estate in Enköping (estate is a really nice way of saying small castle, really), and remained in Sweden until she was 10, as the Prince's willingly and happily gave up custody of her.

From the age of 2-5, Svea was enrolled in Förskola and when aged 6, she attended Förskoleklass, school for muggle children in Sweden (both are optional for Swedish kids, "Förskola" is preschool, available to children from ages 1-5, and "Förskoleklass" is preschool class, which I guess is effectively a year of kindergarten, for children aged 6). She made numerous muggle friends, including her lifelong childhood best friend, Lara Coburg, to whom she still regularly writes, and visits when back in Sweden, and to whom she revealed her magic. She attended 4 years of the muggle compulsory school in Sweden (which is for ages 7-16, and basically the north American equivalent of elementary through to high school), with the plan being that she would "transfer" to private, boarding school once she reached the age for magical schooling. However, when she was 10, her mother and maternal grandfather came to Sweden to claim custody and make her a British citizen, to meet the residential requirements to attend Hogwarts. The Sauvageon's initially refused, but as they loathe their local home school, Drumstrang (a very non-Swedish Scandinavian school, because Sweden is liberal af and Drumstrang is magic racist af), they agreed.

Svea spent a year living with her mother and maternal grandfather before being admitted into Hogwarts and did not like it in the least. They were horrified and appalled by the rambunctious, muggle-friendly, aggressively European child she was (and tbh, still is), and spent the year trying to force it out of her. They kept her isolated and cut off all her connections to her father's family, and tried to instruct her in the ways of pureblood, often screaming in frustration and anger when she argued back or simply replied with "so what" or "why". They later took to locking her in rooms, and starving her when she started leaving the estate on her own to mingle with the local muggle population. Eventually, their little war came to a head when they broke her electrical toys from her father's family, and in her fury, she magically set fire to the Prince Estate (on purpose, though they claimed it was an accident to the Improper Use of Magic Office). The fire resembled the Fiendfyre curse, and it was stronger than any fire Svea had produced before. Although no one died, the entire estate became ruins, and took 4 ministry workers plus her mother and grandfather to contain. After the incident, Svea was able to reconnect with her paternal family (crying to the ministry people there about missing her father and worried that her grandfather would say no because he's jealous of her other grandfather, yes she was faking her tears, anyway, they fell for it and informed her Swedish fam who immediately apparated to the Prince Estate). The Sauvageon's offered to pay for the restoration of the Prince Estate, but in exchange, Brigitta Sauvageon would be staying with them until Svea left for Hogwarts. Once that was settled, Svea and her maternal family became akin to strangers living in the same house, with Marcius Prince calling Svea and her aunt "unwelcome guests".

Svea excelled at Hogwarts from the get go, she ran into some trouble with blood purists in her house, but due to her indifferences to the opinions of others for whom she has no respect, and long list of accomplishments, bullying hasn't really been an issue for her, she's really far too confident for bullying to even work though, like what would they say?

Would-be bully: you're ugly. Svea: b!tch, have you seen me?

Would-be bully: your blood is impure and polluted by the filth of muggles Svea: yeah, and so is yours, it's called species propagation.

Would-be bully: you're a worthless blood traitor Svea: *points at all her awards and grades*

Anyway, she's active in school events, has too much pride for school and her house, (also Sweden) and SLYTHERIN IS SO WINNING THAT HOUSE CUP THIS YEAR MOTHERFCKERS!!!

☆──════♦other♦════──☆

‣ her name is poorly made pun, like, "pun" is actually pushing it. "Svea" comes from a personification of Sweden, a derivative of "Svear", the Swedish name for the ancient Germanic tribe; the Swedes. "Svear" also later evolved into "Sverige", the Swedish name for Sweden and means "the realm of the Svear". Her surname, "Sauvageon", is a French form of "Savage", an English word, nickname, and surname meaning wild and uncouth, which was derived from a Middle English form of Old French; "salvage" or "sauvage", which meant untamed. Effectively, her name means Savage Swede, the flip around being a ref to the annoying flip around in the French language with certain terms and/or phrases (also in other languages, but French is the one I got beef with as a Canadian person). Richelle and Estelle are just because I like frenchy names that rhyme, and they're vaguely posh sounding, so I'm assuming her mother picked those ones. I say, assume, I made these characters, she did pick them for Svea.

‣ She could've been a Ravenclaw, but her ambition heavily outweighs her thirst for knowledge

‣ Her muggle electronic devices somewhat function at Hogwarts, working around the magical interferences by having them be powered by magic (so her laptop, phone, etc now never die, and are partially magic, decreasing the interference from all the magic around the castle), however, she is still trying to receive satellite/etc signals which don't work in the school, and she's forced to keep those features off because otherwise her screen goes all wonky. Hurray for having downloaded everything though. Enjoy X-Files and Eurovision Slytherin House. XD

‣ uses a ridiculous array of glitter and nerd-design pens (ink and quills are aesthetically pleasing, but impractical. Come on, the pencil was invented in fcking 1564)

‣ obtained her appariting license earlier than would be possible (because birthday makes her 17 after the usual UK test dates) by applying for it at the Swedish Ministry of magic, which issues Apparition licenses at 16 (completely made that up, but whatever, I don't like half of the few things we know about JKR's Sweden, they're not very Swedish. How is Drumstrang a Scandi school? Scandi's are so liberal, I get it's a German, wwii stereotype, but make it limited to German and Germanic states then, the Scandi's are liberal af. Well, Sweden is, also I think Finland, and probably Denmark).

☆──════♦plotting ideas and notes♦════──☆

[I'll add more as I think of them]

I. She's extremely competitive with Ravenclaw's and loathes that they have the label of being the "smart house", since her house is just as intelligent, and she considers herself above them. Her arrogance and elitist attitude come out at their highest when she's arguing with a Ravenclaw.

II. Your carer; possibly limited to Slytherin house, but she cares so you don't have to. Although, that caring is also limited, there's only so many people she can care about. Everyone doesn't deserve it.

III. Her relationship with Slytherins may be a bit complex depending on where your OC stands on blood purity. Svea's an elitist, yes, but she's not a blood purist, and has plenty of muggle-born and muggle friends, her own mother has labeled her as a "blood traitor", so if you're of the "pure bloods are the bestest, kill everyone else", you may run into some problems.

IV.

☆──════♦plotting♦════──☆

--Slytherin--

↪ Damien Greaves | @.natasha-maree13 House: Slytherin FC: Matthew Daddario Info: One of Svea's best friends, despite his psychopathy. She's able to easily discern between when he's messing around, and when he's being genuine. Both being high-achieving, superiority-complex ridden as.sholes with a shared fondness for certain muggle things, they get along fantastically, despite one of them lacking the major spectrum of human emotions. They have their own little clique, The Slytherin Silver Trio, and it's better than yours will ever be. XP ---> side character plotting: Lyra Greaves ------{FC: Alexandra Daddario, House: Slytherin} -----tbf

↪ Eloise Avery | @.themadmonarchist House: Slytherin FC: Abbey Lee Kershaw Info: Evolved into buddy-buddy friends more recently, and are Eurovision besties! Okay, they have like a close bond and other proper friendship stuff that I'm gonna ramble about, but, clearly, EUROVISION IS THE BEST AND MOST IMPORTANT THING EVER!!! Okay, I'm chill now, mostly. They first met as children, when Svea's family were trying to teach her the "enlightened" ways of pureblood-ism, didn't go well, the Avery's had their precious heir exposed to glitter muggle music for the first time. At Hogwarts, they didn't particularly get along in the beginning, due to Eloise's connection with the dou.che crew (as I call them, basically Blood Purist Bullies), however, they are quite similar later bonding during o.w.l.s and post-Eloise leaving dou.che crew over their similar pasts, passion for muggle stuff, and needing to outstanding on everything. Sliver Trio member numero trois!

↪ Octavia Thygeson | @.melophilia-c House: Slytherin FC: Natalia Dyer Info: Despite Svea's general elitist attitude, they along quite well, Svea showing the newbie around Hogwarts and such, and later bond over their close ties to members of Gryffindor House, who are generally seen as the enemy in Slytherin. ---> side character plotting: Mason Thygeson ------{FC: Hugh Dancy, House: Gryffindor} ------Become friends through Octavia, apparently her "spunk" reminds him of sister. Also friends through Henry. Also, also, Svea aggressively ships him with her bestie, Syn. Ship shop and all.

↪ Loralei Expura | @.thespian-at-large House: Slytherin FC: Dove Cameron Info: Like a little sister to her, Svea is very protective of Loralei, who is prone to being bullied for not being a pureblood in their house. She also convinced Loralei to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, and ensures Loralei takes her pills by enchanting her belongings to constantly remind her until she takes them.

↪ Leida Nelms | @.stackmel House: Slytherin FC: Ashley Benson Info: Friends, more or less. Certainly some American digs on Svea's part, but generally get along being teammates and housemates.

↪ Chanel Black | @.daily-donuts House: Slytherin FC: Ruby McCarthy Info: Svea and Chanel despise one another. The only exception is on the quidditch pitch where they are forced to work together. Chanel saw Svea as the edgy cool girl, but Svea just saw Chanel as an obnoxious immature teen. To be fair, she attempted to be polite with the girl which misled Chanel into believing they were friends because of her bubbly personality. Unfortunately, Svea told her the truth whenever she noticed the teen hanging out with her more and more. Chanel’s hurt grew to her being insecure about herself and a passionate hate to Svea. They compete in quidditch every practice and they both attempt to one up the other. Chanel secretly wants to still be friends with Svea but she knows that will never happen. Even though they are so similar, Svea’s coolness was too much for them to have a positive relationship.* *written by @.daily-donuts

↪ Moses Park Jr. | @.koby House: Slytherin FC: Kim Woo Bin Info: They've been friends since first year, as Svea does not care about blood purity and bonded over their shared love for the muggle sport of football (but Arsenal is better than West Ham)! She's also one his tutors.

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

--Hufflepuff--

↪ Syn Lothbrok | @ghostpastey House: Hufflepuff FC: Zippora Seven Info: SlytherPuff BFFs aka the Scandi's/Scandinavians, they're childhood friends, both being from wealthy influential families in Scandinavia, and they're a solid salty/aggressive duo at Hogwarts, with a penchant for snarky lines and exploding potions *cough* Syn totally makes them explode no matter how closely the instructions were followed *cough*.

↪ Isabel Sanchez | @.polystar10 House: Hufflepuff FC: Ana De armas Info: Sort of friends, they initially interact through Svea's bestie (Damien) messing around and manipulating poor Isabel, Svea never really interfering unless it goes way too far, and even then, it's really only take down a few notches. Their interactions increase due to Isabel's close relationship with Svea's boyfriend (urg, what a lame word, paramour, through her paramour), and end up hanging out more.

↪ Lyrae Mino | @.skyfalll House: Hufflepuff FC: Taissa Farmiga Info: Share a friendly rivalry, but get along well, and have a mutual love of the stars (astronomy).

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

--Gryffindor--

↪ Henry Clark | @.lady-stoneheart House: Gryffindor FC: Ben Barnes Info: SlytherDor power couple, began dating in their 6th year, bonding over their shared love of muggle sports team; Arsenal FC. Generally speaking, they've always got along, Svea has always been against the stupidity of blood purity, which many of her Housemates buy into, and which Henry abhors, however, she has bully friends, and is somewhat complicit in their behaviour since she doesn't really step in unless it's the aforementioned friend is being stupid (aka going "mudblood"), or is going too far, so they have been on opposite sides of (metaphorical) battles numerous times. They're also extremely competitive with each other, mostly arising from their Quidditch teams (the ones they play on and support), as well as Svea's general refusal to ever lose. ---> side character plotting: Xander Carlyle ------{FC: Jacob Tremblay, House: Gryffindor} ------share a sibling like relationship, having bonded closely over the holidays, with Xander immediately running to Svea for help with homework and all other problems, inciting a small amount of sibling-like jealousy in Henry (Henry, at some point: he's my sort of brother, get your own).

↪ Isadora Franks | @.agentdanascully House: Gryffindor FC: Lily James Info: Share a friendly rivalry, initially instigated by Isadora. Generally politely competitive, though they've had nicer moments, mainly due to mutual hatred for blood elitists, though Svea unintentionally makes Isadora feel insecure around her, plus stubborness gets in the way of a deeper friendship.

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

--Ravenclaw--

↪ Kenton Prewett | @.miky94 House: Ravenclaw FC: Dylan Sprayberry Info: They are acquaintances that run into each other during events and on campus, but nothing more.

↪ Minah Delacroix | @.maybones House: Ravenclaw FC: Kim Doyeon Info: tbf ---> side character plotting: Tyler Lee ------{FC: Jeon Jungkook, House: Slytherin} ------tbf

↪ oc name | @ oc owner House: FC: Info:

☆──group members──☆ Gryffindor: @/know-my-value || @/short-infinities || @.lady-stoneheart || @/snazzy-k33 || @/juliefel || @/novitious || @/forver-young0001 || @/fandomgirlofficial || @/crythin || @/ekaterina33-01 Hufflepuff: @/followyourbliss || @.ghostpastey || @/iristaha || @.skyfalll || @.polystar10 || @/hxmiltrxsh || @/violetrose74 || @/moon-child-dreams || @/me-myself-and-survival || @/dashingpirate Slytherin: @.drownedinmoonlight || @/lightyears-away || @.themadmonarchist || @.natasha-maree13 || @.melophilia-c || @.koby || @.thespian-at-large || @.stackmel || @.daily-donuts || @.little-miss-sociopath Ravenclaw: @/buffykdh || @/monkeymanda22 || @/maybones || @/the-fault-in-our-paper-towns || @/general-sux || @/fandom-fashion || @/chrissykinz || @/hear-my-plea || @/oohlalyla ||

#polyvore #squarezy layout #mine #svea sauvageon #plotting #hsww

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