#oop & classes & inheritance & shit

[machinavocis]

@ programming gods plz just let the list of remaining job tasks run out before my remaining brain juice reserves do.

[stansthemans]

Yall my fem stan brain rot is so bad rn. I just looked at my wips. 78k for fem Stan. 4k for dude Stan. lol oops anyway here’s some more

Sometimes it feels embarrassing to ask, like she really is still a child. But Ford never denies her, even when he’s really busy with some project or studying for some exam. Stan knows how important those things are to him, and even though she thinks he needs to relax about it—he’s miles ahead of everyone else at school, even the teachers—she doesn’t want to drag him away from it unless one of them really needs it.

Today, it’s her.

Nothing has gone right today. She actually tried her own homework, like really tried, not just half assed it or copied Ford’s. Predictably, she beefed it, and her teacher actually took the time to call her out in front of the entire class. She tripped on the way to English class, bruising her knee and sending all her shit flying. She hadn’t been fast enough gathering it all up, and she got a tardy. One of her gloves busted at boxing practice, and she hasn’t yet had the guts to tell Pa because she knows he’s going to blow a gasket at having to buy a new one. Dinner was an icy affair. Shermie had apparently called and he and Pa got into it about something. Then, cleaning up the kitchen, Ma had taken out her frustration on Stan.

Stan is glad it wasn’t Pa. She’s always glad when it isn’t him and not just because hiding the bruises has recently gotten much harder. But it still doesn’t make it nice when Ma locks a sharp, critical gaze onto Stan and picks apart everything that’s wrong with her. Too loud and opinionated. How is she ever supposed to catch a man if she’s got the crazy idea that she’s allowed to think anyone cares to hear what she has to say? Not to mention her waistline. The extra dough in the middle—she had pinched Stan’s side here—that Stan certainly didn’t inherit from her. And still with the boxing? It really was high time to stop that brutish, unladylike nonsense.

As if she doesn’t know exactly why Stan needs to keep it up, needs the easy excuse to hide behind.

As soon as she’s able, Stan retreats to the bathroom. It takes a good couple of minutes for the water to heat up, so while she waits, Stan strips down and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She isn’t vain, she doesn’t think. She doesn’t wear any makeup, doesn’t do much more to her hair than run a brush through the waves to manage any tangles. She doesn’t care about trendy clothes or the latest styles. A pair of jeans or shorts, depending on the season, a simple t-shirt, and some high tops. That suits her fine.

She isn’t stick skinny like her mother or a lot of girls at school. She isn’t fat either, not even really that chubby. She’s just kind of thicker. And she’s got muscles from boxing. Not much by way of hips.

How are these ever supposed to bear a child? Any nice boy at the temple, any potential mother-in-law worth their salt, they’ll be looking for that. Hips like these, bad figure elsewhere too. She doesn’t have the looks enough for any good husband to overlook all the other things wrong with her.

Stan steps under the stream of water, hoping that it’s warm enough to wash her mother’s words off her skin.

It isn’t. It never is.

Ford is deep into whatever assignment when she comes into their room, deep enough that he doesn’t look up and watch from the corner of his eye while she changes into pajamas. He’s been doing that for a really long time, but he’s been a little more obvious about it the past few months, and every time it sends a thrilling jolt down Stan’s spine. But he isn’t looking right now, and that makes her feel even worse, despite the fact that he doesn’t look every time and that he’s clearly fully immersed in his textbook.

Stan folds her arms over her stomach, leaning up against their dresser as she watches him. He isn’t hunched too badly, despite how into his work he is. She’s glad to see that at least. The way his spine will pop when he stretches out sometimes really isn’t right for a sixteen year old boy. He took a shower while she was still cleaning up after dinner, and his hair, much shorter than hers, looks so soft and puffy in its freshly cleaned state. His eyes are sharply focused on the textbook, even as his pen dances over his notebook in his neat, looping writing.

He’s so deep into his work, but Stan’s heart is aching too much to keep standing there or even to go curl up in her bunk alone. She steps over to the bookcase. Over the years it’s changed a lot. More and more space is taken up with Ford’s textbooks and scientific journals and less and less their treasures found while out exploring or their comics. Still, there is a small section of novels. Stan picks up one of the most worn down and shuffles over to the desk.

“Hey, Sixer,” she asks, and Ford hums in acknowledgment. “I know you’re real busy.”

“Yes,” Ford says, but not dismissively. “I’m writing that proposal to send in to the Rutgers field office. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, hugging the book to her chest. “Big deal if they take it, right? Maybe get this dump cleaned up some.”

“That’s the hope,” Ford says. “And it will make an excellent addition to my academic portfolio.”

“Yeah,” Stan says again. “Yeah, it’ll be real good.”

The pen stops moving on the paper, and Stan presses her lips together as Ford looks up. His eyes flash as he takes her in, and he opens his mouth. Stan can’t have him ask her what’s wrong because she just can’t, so quickly she blurts, “I know you’re busy but—“ And she shoves their battered old copy of The Hobbit in his direction.

Ford leans back in his seat, almost jumping a bit. She isn’t standing close enough that the book would have smacked him in the face, but it is a close thing. He blinks at it and then again up at her. Stan thinks she must cut a very pathetic figure, but she also doesn’t care in that moment.

Ford studies her with a furrowed brow for only a brief moment before he stands up. He takes the book with one hand and lightly touches her cheek with the other. “Sure,” he says. “I’m at a decent stopping point for the night.”

He absolutely isn’t. Stan wouldn’t understand anything about his proposal if she picked it up to read it, but she knows that he’s lying and going along with her, and she’s so grateful for that. Ford neatens up his work while Stan arranges the pillows and blankets on her bunk. He crawls in after her, and they find a comfortable way to lie tangled up together. Ford opens the book and begins to read aloud.

They both loved this book so much as kids. It wasn’t on the ocean, but it was fantastical adventures fill with daring fights and golden treasure. It was odd, out of place, little people who were still heroes in a big, big world. Sometimes, Stan would read too, picking a couple of the characters that she wanted to voice, often sillily to make Ford laugh. But usually, it would just be Ford reading, them lying together just like this, his voice low, breath ghosting over the top of her head.

It’s soothing. It is. The knots in Stan’s stomach are beginning to loosen, but she still feels heavy in an unpleasant way. As the party reaches Rivendell, Stan decides that she needs more than this, and she hopes Ford is willing to give it.

“Ford,” she asks, and he stops. Stan knows that he can tell she’s about to say something important. She really doesn’t use his name very often.

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Can you do me a favor,” she asks.

“Of course,” he says. “What do you need?”

Need. Because this isn’t a want. She needs this, or she thinks she might shake apart, and Ford doesn’t have to know any details to know that much.

Stan shifts against him just a bit, changes the way she’s lying against him just slightly. Then she reaches up for his hand that was scratching lightly at her scalp. She brings it down her body, under her shirt, and lies it over her breast. Despite being a bit bigger in her upper body, Stan really doesn’t have large breasts. Ford’s big hand covers it completely, and the feeling starts to unwind some of the tension that his voice couldn’t cut through.

Under her, Stan can feel his breath pick up a bit. They haven’t done this outside of her periods before. For the past several months, that’s been the excuse. Ford touching her like that is just him helping her through the very real discomfort of what that week puts her through. And if—when—they do other things, well, they’re hormonal teenagers. Hormones can be such crazy things, overwhelming sometimes. Overwhelming enough to forget the very important fact that they are siblings. Twins. And then when the cramps and aches are over, they go back to being normal.

This isn’t normal. This is outside of that very specific set of parameters where they have decided it’s ok for them to act in ways that they never should have even considered. But Ford’s hand is on her now, skin to skin, and it’s warm and it’s safe.

After a moment, Ford squeezes at her, something questioning, and Stan, her hand still over his, squeezes back and says lowly, “No. Just this.”

“You just want me to hold it,” Ford asks, his voice just as low.

Stan nods. “I just—it’s comforting,” she says.

In a whisper, against her hair, Ford says, “I can feel your heart beating. More than usual.”

He doesn’t need to touch her to feel that, just like she doesn’t have to touch him. It’s always there, right alongside hers, has been for their entire lives. Two hearts beating side by side.

Ford sets the book down in his lap. He doesn’t take his hand away from her, doesn’t move it at all, but his other reaches for her cheek, turning her gently to face him. And then he does something that they also have not done outside of her periods. He brings his lips to hers. Stan sighs against him, lightly dragging her fingers over all six of his before curling around his wrist.

Ford pulls back just slightly. “Whatever Ma said, she was wrong,” he says, and Stan could cry, but his hand is resting directly over her heart, and it keeps her grounded. He kisses her again, a sweet, gentle thing, and then he picks up the book and resumes their reading. Stan melts into her brother, and his voice and touch drives away everything bad in the world.

[mermaidsirennikita]

your description of pregnancy plots in historical romance is HILARIOUS I love it, do you have recs?

Lol, thank you!

For "oops fuck shit I'm pregnant" historical romances, I'd recommend:

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin. I just finished this, and the post was really a reaction to this book--it's an incredible read, and the way the pregnancy is played in this book is just... amazing. Like, the moment when the hero finds out that she's pregnant? I Screeched. The thing about his character is that he's a villain hero, and very cold, and has a hard time expressing emotion--and just like. The way that moment upends his entire plan of action is incredible.

The Rakess by Scarlett Peckham. A bit different in that the heroine is an experienced woman and has been pregnant before--but the pregnancy is a major accident (like, they use ye olde condom and everything but it falls off lmao) and she tries to hide it from the hero because they're from different worlds and he's a widowed father who lost his first wife to childbirth. He finds out by accident and it's GREAT.

The Recruit by Monica McCarty. I love this one a lot; it's probably my favorite Highland Guard book thus far. The hero and the heroine (who is a widowed single mother and didn't get to raise her first child) were supposed to be betrothed. But she pretended to be a maid and hooked up with him in a wine cellar or something, and in the afterglow of what was an amazing hookup he mentions that he doesn't plan on being faithful after he marries (because he's SO INTO this random maid lol). So she blows him off, they don't get betrothed, she does get pregnant, and she plans on hiding it from him... Until he meets her a while later and they impetuously make out and he touches her belly and realizes there's A BUMP!!!! The pregnancy is a bit part of this one. Like, if you're not into pregnant sex, don't read it. This dude has her in eeeevery which way.

Suddenly You by Lisa Kleypas has the hero and heroine deal with an oops pregnancy after they began what was was supposed to be a casual affair. They get married as a result, but as a TW, she does miscarry and the latter chunk of the book deals with them figuring out if they can like... be together, or want to be together, without a baby. The heroine was a virgin when they started hooking up, so she does have some of that "fuck shit" denial about being pregnant.

Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night by Stacy Reid has a widowed single mother duchess begin an affair with a lower class self made man. It's all fun and games until she gets knocked up--and he is PISSED when he realizes she's hesitant to marry him lol.

The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt has a (virginal) heiress begin an affair with the steward of these lands she inherited. She gets pregnant, but he's got a lot of damage about their stations in life/admitting he loves her, so he's not immediately jumping to marry her. As such, she decides to get into a marriage of convenience with another guy, which leads to one of my favorite batshit romance moments... ever.

[harleybeaumont]

The Royal Tea Party

A Father’s Day writing prompt One-Shot

Book - TRR AU (from my fic- Love Me The Way I Am)

Pairings - Maxwell x MC (Harley)

Synopsis - Maxwell and Harley’s 4 year old daughter is invited to Princess Eleanor’s royal tea party. When Harley gets sick and is unable to attend, Maxwell is left alone to deal with the antics of his 4 year old mini-me at the party. 

A/N - This is for the Father’s Day writing prompt posted by @txemrn​. I’m setting this in the fic I wrote called Love Me The Way I Am, but waaaay in the future because they currently do not have any children in that story. (If you don’t know my fic, Harley is based off of Riley, and in this AU, Drake and Liam end up together.) This is my first time ever doing a writing prompt, and I’ve never written Max as a dad before so I hope this turned out ok!

Word count - 4,100 (sorry it kinda got away from me!)

Warnings - language, implied sex

The Royal Tea Party

Maxwell checked the post one Saturday evening in Ramsford, noting a baby-pink envelope with gold script, addressed to the littlest Beaumont in the house. He smiled as he made his way up the stairs into his daughter’s room.

Maxwell bowed dramatically as he stood in the doorway. “Rory- I mean Lady Aurora Beaumont, a letter has just arrived for you.”

Aurora giggled, her blue eyes sparkling and her dark brown curls bouncing as she hopped up and made her way over to him. “Daddy, you’re so silly.”

Maxwell winked. “Silly? Me?! Tell me, would a silly person do this?!” Maxwell spun around and moonwalked across the floor before dropping into a handstand. Aurora attempted to copy him, but during the handstand, flopped onto her back. The two of them lay on the floor together snickering, and Aurora reached over and snatched the letter from her father, tearing it completely in half in the process.

“Oops.. I ripped it a little.” 

“Er, that’s fine. We can tape it.” Max helped her stand and read it aloud. “Lady Aurora Beaumont, please do us the honor of attending Princess Eleanor Rys’ first tea party this Saturday, at noon. This will be a live televised event..” Max quirked an eyebrow, re-reading the letter. “Why would they put a kids tea party on TV?”

“Yesss! I love tea parties!” Aurora danced around the room excitedly. “..and TV!”

“First tea party? Is that really a thing?” Harley entered the room, looking over Maxwell’s shoulder at the letter.

Max shrugged. “I guess for a princess? Liam didn’t have any of this shit when we were kids, so I have no-”

“Ohhhh daddddyyyyy”! Aurora gasped. “You said a swear!”

“He did, didn’t he?!” Harley gasped theatrically, throwing her hand over her mouth. “You know what that means, right Rory?”

Aurora nodded, her tight curls bouncing along with her movements as a mischievous smile lit her face. “Tickles!” She ran forward and leapt onto Maxwell, trying to tickle him as he fell to the floor dramatically. 

Maxwell grabbed her as she shrieked and squealed with laughter, before finally escaping and tickling him some more. “I give up! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Maxwell laughed and winked at his wife. “Thanks a lot mommy.” He rolled his eyes teasingly. “Siccing the tickle monster on me.”

“Hey, that’s what you get for cursing!” Harley winked back at him. “Now, it is time for Miss Rory to get herself into bed! We have an early morning tomorrow, remember?”

“Right! Dance class!!” Aurora agreed and ran into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Saturday evenings were one of the rare times their 4 year old went to bed without protest. That was only because she had jazz and tap lessons the next morning. She had definitely inherited her father’s love of dancing and was already at the top of her class. 

Once Maxwell and Harley had tucked their daughter into bed and kissed her goodnight, they made their way into the kitchen for a late night snack. Harley was coughing as she made her and Max some hot tea. 

“You ok, babe?” Max rubbed her back in concern.

She coughed again and shook her head. “Fine.. I’m sure I’m fine. Probably just allergies. You know all that damn pollen from the Dogwood trees gets my allergies going every year.”

“I told you I could get out there and Paul Bunyan those trees down! I’ll even wear a flannel shirt, all sexy and unbuttoned to complete the lumberjack look!”

Harley burst out laughing. “First of all.. No way, they’re too pretty! Second, Rory loves them. And third, I love you, but there is no way in hell I want you out there swinging an ax around! I’ll just suffer.”

“Those.. Are actually all good points. But I don’t want you to have to suffer!”

“Eh.” She waved him off with a smile. “It doesn’t last long. Just a couple more weeks until the pollen subsides. Besides, I just took some allergy meds so I’m sure I’ll be better by morning.” She coughed again, and tried to ignore the chills running all through her body. “So, a fancy royal tea party for kids, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“I can’t even imagine Drake willingly agreed to have this televised.” Harley laughed as she added several spoonfuls of sugar to her cup. 

“Oh, no way in hell.” Max chuckled as he took his cup of tea. “I texted Liam a few minutes ago and he said it was their press secretary's idea. They’re trying to give people a glimpse into the life of the royal heir.. And all the other noble kids too, I guess.”

Harley sat next to Max and leaned against him as they drank their tea together. “Why did I even get tea? I wanted ice cream.”

Max laughed and carried her cup to the sink, while Harley protested. He grabbed her favorite, Rocky Road, and made her a big bowl, complete with m&ms.

“God, I love you.” Harley smiled at him when he sat back down with her bowl. “How did I get so lucky?”

Max leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. “I am definitely the lucky one.”

Their kiss quickly turned heated, and Harley grabbed his hand and the bowl of ice cream as they headed upstairs to their bedroom. Max chuckled once they got inside and closed the door. “Did we need to bring the ice cream?”

Harley bit her bottom lip as her eyes raked over him. “Definitely.” She dabbed a little on her neck and Maxwell’s eyes widened as he finally understood where this was going. 

“Oh, hell yes.” 

Next Saturday, which was the day of the tea party, Harley lay in bed with the flu. She insisted on Maxwell and Aurora staying away so they didn’t get sick. She even forced Maxwell to sleep in another room, which he hated. They hadn’t spent more than a night apart since they got married, and he wanted to be there to take care of his wife. He knew she was right in keeping him away, but he still hated not being able to cuddle with her.

Harley cracked open her bedroom door wearing one of Maxwell's t-shirts, hair tied back in a messy bun, and a tissue stuffed up one nostril. “Max! Don’t forget to put on that dress we had made for her.”

Maxwell chuckled as he walked down the hallway toward his daughter's room. “Ok, but I don’t think it’ll fit me!”

“Good God, your dad joke game has reached its peak..” Harley tried to laugh but it came out as a hacking cough.

Maxwell ran over to her, worriedly. “Do you need anything? More cough med-”

“Stay away!” She held her arms out, keeping him at a distance, as he tried to make his way towards their bedroom. “Somehow you haven’t gotten this yet, and you guys can’t get sick! Not on the day of the freaking royal tea party! The last thing we need is Rory and you hacking all over the princess on national television.”

“Oh ya, I forgot this was going to be live! No wonder Bertrand has Bartie dressed up like a freaking chauffeur.. little hat and all!” Maxwell chuckled, but sobered as Bertrand made his way down the hall, dressed to the nines. “Damn, looking good bro!” Max clapped him on the back and Bertrand frowned, dusting off his shoulder.

“Yes, well it is imperative that the Beaumonts are well represented today. This event will be shown to the nation, nay the world. Everyone will be watching the little princess and all the other noble children closely to look for any slip-ups. Anything to show weakness in the houses.”

“Jeez Bert, they're still just kids. Surely people understand that.” Harley said as she peeked out of the doorway into the hall. She sneezed and Bertrand hopped backwards, frantically trying to get away from her. “Don’t worry, I’m going back to bed. I just wanted to say bye to you guys before you left. Oh, and tell Drake and Liam I’m sorry I couldn’t come.”

Aurora and Max blew kisses to Harley before setting off to the capital for the tea party. Aurora insisted on wearing her Sleeping Beauty costume in the car on the way there, but promised she would change into her tea party dress once they got to the palace. Once they arrived, they headed to the bathroom to get changed.

“I can do it myself!” Aurora insisted, as she carried the dress and a little purse she brought into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Uhh, you sure baby?” Max knew she wanted to do everything herself, but this was the freaking royal tea party. He didn’t want her to accidentally get it dirty or rip it.

“Yeeeessss.” 

After a few minutes Maxwell knocked. “Rory? You need some help with the zipper or anything?” 

“Done, daddy!” Aurora called out from the bathroom.

Maxwell had to stifle a gasp as he entered the room. His sweet, angelic daughter was standing on the toilet wearing her perfect chiffon and lace dress. Only, something was wrong.

“Daddy, do you like it? I did it myself! I look so beautiful!” Aurora beamed as she spun around revealing glittery splatters of paint that covered the otherwise pristine purple tea party dress. “I put my faaaavorite colors.. Pink, green, and black! I bet Ellie is gonna love it!”

Maxwell was torn. Part of him was so proud of his daughter for doing something that she was proud of. And she looked so damn happy. What would Harley do? Shit.. this never would have happened if Harley was here. His mind raced frantically, not wanting to hurt his daughter’s feelings, but also knowing that there was no way she could wear that to the party.

“Oh my god.. It’s amazing!” He smiled at his daughter. “I think we should actually save it until after the party. It just looks.. way too good. If you show up wearing this beautiful dress, everyone will get jealous!”

Aurora frowned at the dress for a moment and smiled. “That’s ok. I can wear my Sleeping Beauty dress to the party and change into this after.”

“Great idea!” Max said, thankful that she wasn’t throwing a fit about it. He helped her out of the messy dress and started trying to wash off the paint that was covering her arms and legs. 

Betrand knocked insistently at the door. “Are you two done? The party is starting in five minutes! They’re about to start announcing everyone!”

“Shit!” Maxwell said as he continued to try and scrub the paint from her body. “The label says washable paint! How is this washable?!”

Aurora gasped. “Daddy you said a swear again!”

“Ah, you’re right.. Let’s do tickle monster after the party though. We need to hurry and-”

Aurora laughed and launched herself toward her father, tickling his sides and smearing fresh hot-pink paint on his white button up shirt. Don’t freak out.. Don't freak out.. Maxwell told himself as his sweet little daughter laughed and tickled him, not realizing that they were both going to be attending a televised royal event looking like a finger painting.

Maxwell took a deep breath. We can fix this.. “Okaaay, well Daddy is going to try and clean his shirt, while you change into your princess dress and then we can head out so Uncle Bert will..” Maxwell raised his voice so it could be heard outside of the door. “..shut up and stop knocking!”

“Ok!” Aurora giggled as she changed into her princess dress. 

Maxwell vigorously rubbed a damp paper towel on his shirt, but of course it was just spreading the paint. Maybe if he pulled his jacket together tightly it wouldn't show. He looked over and Aurora had her dress on and was already headed out the door. He tossed the paper towel in the trash and followed after her.

“We’re gonna have to zoom, ok Rory?” Max took her hand and they walked as fast as they could down the long hallway toward the entrance to the garden. Thankfully they made it in time before the herald announced the Beaumonts. Maxwell and Aurora took their place in line behind Bertrand, Savannah, and Bartie, just as they were announced. Max looked out into the gardens and there were people everywhere. Camera crews and reporters were standing to the side, ready to get a glimpse of all the nobles and their children. Maxwell cringed as he realized his daughter was dressed up as a Disney princess to attend an actual princesses tea party. If that wasn’t a faux pas he didn’t know what was. Oh well.. Harley is right. They're just kids. And since when did he care so much about what people thought? Being an adult sucked sometimes.

Max and Aurora were at the front of the line now about to be announced and he looked down at his daughter, this time unable to stop the gasp from slipping out. She smiled up at him with hot pink sparkly paint all over her mouth and cheeks. She had black paint on her eyebrows, making her look like a muppet, and in any other situation Maxwell would have laughed his ass off.

“I did my makeup just like mommy!” She grinned up at him.

“That’s.. beautiful darling.” Max held in his laughter and looked around to see how they could slip out of the line and wash this off. When did she even have time to do this?!

“Lord Maxwell Beaumont and Lady Aurora Beaumont of Ramsford.” The herald announced, giving Aurora a strange glance.

Oh God. Max took a deep breath. Too late to back out now.. Might as well just own it. He threw off his jacket and rocked his paint streaked shirt as he and his daughter walked across the lawn in front of dozens of nobles and camera crews. Aurora had no idea how much of a spectacle the two of them were, and he wanted to keep it that way. Even though she was a noble, she was still just a 4 year old and she was having the time of her life, strutting around in her princess dress with her “makeup.” Max held his head high, ignoring the astonished and bemused looks from everyone they passed. Once they made it over to the royal family, Maxwell bowed and Aurora curtsied.

Drake had a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh, but Liam reached his hand out and crouched down in front of Aurora. “You look lovely today Lady Aurora. Did you do this makeup all by yourself?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She said sweetly. “And I wore my special princess dress!” She twirled around several times before stumbling and falling over in the grass.

Liam gave Max a discreet wink and smiled. Princess Elenor and Aurora had played together since they were babies, and Liam and Drake knew she was a bit of a wild child. “Well it is lovely. And did you decorate your father’s shirt as well?”

“Well.. that was kinda an accident. I was doing tickle monster because daddy said ‘shit’ and I got some paint on him. But I think his shirt looks better that way.”

Maxwell's eyes widened. The press surely heard that. He glanced over to Bertrand whose face was bright red with either anger or shame.. Probably both.

Liam chuckled. “Well, I think you’re right. It looks much better that way. We saved a seat for you right here next to Ellie.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Aurora giggled and attempted to moon walk over to the seat next to the crown princess. 

Maxwell took his place at a table with Bertrand and Savannah watching the girls giggle together, and he couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. His daughter was wearing a stained, well-worn costume dress with paint smeared all over her arms, mouth, cheeks, and eyebrows, her untamable curls framing her chubby baby cheeks. Seated next to her, was the crown princess of the nation who was wearing a pristine, floral dress and a tiny tiara on her head with her perfectly straight hair pulled back. She even had on white gloves and tiny high heeled shoes. The two girls were a hilarious contrast, but his heart was so full of love as he watched his daughter smile and laugh with her friend. His little girl was so beautiful and he loved her and her mother more than anything in the world.

Once the other noble children had taken their place at the kids table and the adults were seated, the tea party officially started. Bertrand had thoroughly gone over the proper etiquette with Aurora and Bartie in the days prior, and it looked like it was paying off. Max kept sneaking glances over to his daughter and it seemed as if everything was going well. She sipped her tea, looking (almost) every bit the little lady.

Bertrand still looked like he had a stick up his ass and even though they were seated next to one another, Maxwell didn’t dare speak to him. Once the tea party was over, Princess Eleanor stood up thanking everyone for coming, and the children and adults politely clapped. She was amazingly eloquent for a 5 year old. But then again, she was just like Liam- jet black hair, dimples, and all. Savannah had been the egg donor when Drake and Liam decided to have a child, so Ellie inherited the Walker smile.. and a little bit of the snarkiness. Although she knew to hide it well in public, unlike her dad.

Liam stood and thanked the press for coming and the King's Guard began gently escorting them toward the exit. Suddenly, a tiny voice rang out. “That’s shit!”

Everyone froze.. Everyone except the press. The cameras were already out, focused on the littlest Beaumont standing on her chair with a scowl as she pointed to a boy seated across from her. Aurora leaned further over the table and the boy looked terrified.

Maxwell quickly made his way over to his daughter. “What’s wrong Rory?” He said quietly, trying to get her to sit back down and stop making even more of a scene.

“This boy. Is. A. Doodoo head!” She yelled at the top of her lungs and the boy leaned back in his chair, clearly taken aback.

“Ok..” Max chuckled nervously as the press moved in closer with delighted smiles. “Let’s just sit down and talk about why he’s a doodoo head. No more yelling.”

“But..” Aurora looked at her father frantically and back toward the boy's smug face. “But he said some mean things!”

Max gulped and looked around with a nervous smile. “Come on, why don’t we just sit back down and have some of these cookies or cake or something?”

Aurora’s tiny face was turning red. Max had never seen her so angry at someone, so he crouched down next to her. “Hey.” He spoke quietly. “You’ve done so good today and I’m really proud of you. You wanna go home?”

Aurora glanced back at the boy and nodded. “Yes.” 

Max patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Princess Ellie and your friends and we’ll go back inside away from all these people. Then we can talk.”

Max made his way back over to Bertrand and Savannah to let them know they were beyond done and heading back inside. Just as he was returning to his daughter, he heard a group of people gasp and start chattering loudly. Oh shit.

Max hurried over and Aurora had icing covering her tiny hand as she glared at the boy across from her.. Who incidentally had cake smashed all over his face. “Oh my god.” Max gaped at them, frozen in place. “Rory.. why?”

In his peripheral vision he saw a man and woman hurry over to the boy. Oh great.. This was Penelope and Neville’s kid. Aurora calling their kid a doodoo head was probably extremely accurate. Considering who his father was, doodoo heads must run in the family. “What has she done to our baby?!” Penelope wailed before taking out a poodle embroidered handkerchief and wiping the boy’s face.

“I’ve never been so insulted! What sort of things are they teaching in House Beaumont?” Neville raised his voice, clearly putting on a show and trying to make sure the cameras would catch every word.

Maxwell rolled his eyes at him, and crouched down to speak to his daughter. “Rory.. you know that was wrong. Why did you do that?”

Aurora was on the verge of tears. She climbed up on her chair and pointed to the boy again. “He said that just because I didn’t come from my mommy's tummy, that I don’t have a real mommy!”

Max felt those words like a punch to the gut. He and Harley had always been up front with their daughter about how she was carried in someone else’s tummy because mommy’s body couldn’t do it. And they had always told her that there was nothing wrong with it. Now this kid was making her think there was something wrong with her, and Maxwell was not about to stand for it.

Max glared at Penelope and Neville. “Seriously? I wonder where he got that idea!”

Neville stammered. “I- I wouldn’t know.. I mean-”

“You were the one who said it father!” The boy interrupted and Neville gulped. “Just like you said Princess Eleanor was a test tube baby.”

“Yes, well..” Neville cleared his throat and stood tall. “Well it is true, isn’t it? I was only stating the facts. I mean, neither of them were conceived naturally.”

Maxwell glanced over to Liam and Drake who were watching the scene in horror, clearly about to jump in. Max swallowed all the anger that was inside him before turning his gaze back to his daughter. “Rory. There are some grown-ups in this world who are just mean. They say hurtful things that aren't true. But deep down, they are pathetic and miserable, and they like to say things that make people feel the same way.”

“Why?” Her innocent, shining, blue eyes looked up at him on the verge of tears.

“I don’t know.” Max glanced over to Neville who was sneering at him. “But I think you had the right idea.”

Maxwell grabbed a fistful of cake and smashed it into Neville's face, hard. Too hard, if he was being honest, but also not as hard as he really wanted to. There were gasps and a few cheers, and Maxwell took his daughter's messy hand in his as they walked out of the garden and back inside the palace together.

Once the two of them had cleaned up, Maxwell decided he and his daughter would go home in a different car than the rest of the Beaumonts. He wasn’t sure how Bertrand was going to react, but neither of them needed a lecture. Once they settled in the backseat of the car, Maxwell pulled out his phone. “Soooo, should we call mommy? Tell her we’re headed home?”

Aurora nodded and he put the phone on speaker as he phoned his wife.

Harley’s raspy, sick voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi mommy!”

Harley chuckled. “Well if it isn’t my two little hell-raisers!”

“Uh, yaaaa..” Max said hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how Harley was going to react or how much she had seen.

“So, I saw the most interesting thing on live television today..”

“Look, I’m so sorry about that-” Max started, but his wife cut him off.

“I saw the most handsome prince escorting the most beautiful Disney princess to a tea party with Princess Ellie!” Harley said excitedly.

“That was me and daddy, mommy!!”

Harley gasped, “No way! And who did your makeup?”

“I did!” Aurora giggled. “But Daddy washed it off after the party.”

Maxwell felt his heart warm. She wasn’t mad. Of course she wasn’t. Harley was the best person ever. The best wife. The best mom. 

“And I saw that you and daddy ate lots of cake, right?” Harley said teasingly.

“Well..” Aurora glanced up at her father and tried to wink. “Ya we did! We definitely didn’t smush it into anyone's face!”

“Well it sounds like you guys had lots of fun!” Harley chuckled. “And don’t forget tomorrow is Father’s Day, and we have a big surprise planned for daddy!”

“Right!” Aurora giggled, covering her mouth. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with peacocks, daddy!”

“Rory!” Harley laughed, “Shush!”

“What?” Aurora tried to whisper into the phone. “I said it didn’t have to do with peacocks! He won't know!”

Max smiled brightly as he watched his daughter talk to her mother excitedly. He loved his girls more than anything in the world.

[butwhatifidothis]

Fighting someone in that enlightened edelgard comment and they really pulled the "edelgard's war was necessary because crests bad!!" Bruh

Alright so like... why does Edelgard think Crests bad? What is she willing to propose to society as an alternative to Crests that won't similarly be abused by those with money and power? If Hanneman is able to conduct Crest research and is allowed to build his machines that gets rid of the need for Crests on all routes, even on SS and even if Rhea comes back as archbishop, then why did Edelgard need to start the war if that was her real goal? What problems do Crests specifically and uniquely bring to society?

Because Sylvain, Ingrid, Lorenz, anyone else who feels that they're only good for their Crest or need to marry due to their Crest? They'd literally be in the same position without them, because they're still high-end nobles with pretty titles and nice power that commoners would want a piece of or that their families would marry off to others families for more money and power (or any, in Ingrid's case). Crests change nothing, save for Sylvain getting the nice heir title from this unfair inheritance system over Miklan were it the usual "lol I popped outta Mom first" inheritance system.

Mercedes? Ah yes, because incest would never occur in noble families were it not for Crests, think I read that in my history class before.

Dorothea? Her having a Crest would have actually saved her and her mother (or at least her) from a life of poverty, so oops.

Hanneman's sister? Ah yes, right after the section where my history books told me that incest don't real, it says that women were never ever forced to unhealthily bear multiple children until their husband gets one he wants.

The only ones I can think of that were fucked over specifically and only by specifically and only Crests are Edelgard, Lysithea, and Marianne. The first two are so unbelievably unlikely to happen to anyone in the general Crest-bearing populace as to damn near be laughable - fun as Two Crests AU's are, this shit only happens the twice, once for the setup and once with the refinements from the first. This isn't something most, many, some, a few, or really fuckin' anyone has to deal with, this is something extremely specific to Edelgard and Lysithea. And similarly, Marianne, while facing most of her trauma because of uniquely Crests, only does so because she literally just so happens to be born with the literal one Crest in all of Fodlan that is feared and hated.

Like, Crests could have easily actually been a big deal in Fodlan, but like... damn near anything that could rise from specifically Crests gets taken care of pretty easy lol?? Like, Marianne just needs to beat the shit out of Maurice and she's fine(r). Edelgard and Lysithea's shit is reversible and is able to have its the biggest side effect of having two Crests be erased (for Lysithea, cuz as I've said I don't think Edelgard has any problems with the two Crest shit). Balthus' shit where "Ohhh, people will really fuck over Kupala if they find out it has Chevalier Crest bearers!!" gets solved by the Church itself stepping in and keeping it hush hush for Kupala's safety and that making it to where Balthus' more qualified Crest-less brother gets the inheritance (so much for wanting no one but Crest bearers to rule over Fodlan!). Some bitches literally are completely unaffected by Crests (Hilda, Linhardt, Yuri <- as far as I know, I'm sure there are others).

Hilariously enough, very few people in the cast actually benefit from Crests specifically due to Crests - the only ones I can think of off the top of my head are maybe Lambert (if you wanna count him) and Claude (let him prove his right to inheritance).

Like. Before adopting Marianne, Edmund was able to rise to Margrave through good financial and oratory skills - that's a higher position than Count. Y'know. Like Count Gloucester? Ordelia for all we can surmise has no Crest and bears the same title as Gloucester regardless. Count Rowe in the Kingdom is higher than Baron Dominic - Baron's, like, the lowest fuckin' noble title! Even the Empire, shitty as it is, doesn't have this problem! Bergliez, no Crest, House of Military Affairs for an Empire.

People hear Crests and see them packaged as a unique evil specific to Fodlan by the characters who were born and raised in this society and who have little to no reference to the world outside of Fodlan and so wouldn't know that most of this shit literally happens everywhere and they just, fuckin', forget!! That this shit ain't new!! Crests are just First-Born-Noble Syndrome wrapped in pretty shiny wrapping paper. Petra, a royal from Brigid, literally never mentions Crests, and Claude only does so out of curiosity over them - almost like, as nobility outside of Fodlan, Crests are just weird to them and nothing else! They likely know the same shit would happen to these nobles with or without Crests because they know a world without Crests, unlike those of Fodlan!

Getting rid of Crests seems like it will change a lot of Fodlan... until you remember that they're dying out anyway so Fodlan is already in a transition period where they'd become relics of the past, until you remember that, again, most of the shit wrong that comes with Crests actually comes with nobility in general, until you remember that a majority of the characters either don't care about Crests or are otherwise unaffected by them.

And like, we know that Edelgard doesn't actually give a shit about Crests lmao that is damn sure not a major reason why she started the war, she started the war because she wanted to wear the big girl pants and rule over all of Fodlan and also kill the Nabateans. That's it. No shit about Crests, much as she initially posits as much - notice how that shit falls to the wayside soon as the war's actually in action, it's literally said over and over and over again that Edelgard wants to reunite Fodlan, she wants to conquer the Alliance and Kingdom, she wants to boot the Church, she wants to kill Rhea and the Children of the Goddess; Crests are a footnote in her oh so grand plans. Edelgard didn't start war cuz Crests Bad, she did it because Me Want Be Dictator

[plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows]

Part 2 of the frametypes headcanon ramble.

Under a cut this time bc it’s l o n g.

↠ PART ONE : read first otherwise this prob wont make sense lol 

Notes on Groundframes

↠   Light standards are like your basic sedan, they're fuckin everywhere and most people can't tell the subtypes apart. They make up just under 20% of the population on their own, and tend to be thought of as the ‘average Cybertronian’, for better or worse. There are nine subtypes based on location of origin:

Iaconic — tallish, slim, kinda plain otherwise. Very common.

Meridian — tend to be dorito-shaped, with big spoilers or vents. The most common of the subtypes, theyre fuckin everywhere.

Tagani — smaller than the others, compact and flexible design specs, have a reputation for being the 'sportsmecha' of the frametype due to being made for getting around in big honkin mountains. Fairly rare outside of the Tagan rus.

Kaoni — big and stronk for an average sedan, curvy design aesthetic. Common in the southern hemisphere, less so in the north bc having ‘Kaon’ attached to ur name is an instant popularity nerf.

Tarnais — big and often kinda boxy, probably turns into a small ute. Also common in the south and less so in the north.

Praxian — average in every way except for the doorwings. Not actually that common anymore. The 'doorwing' aesthetic originally comes from Praxus but at this point it's present in most of the northern subtypes because Fashion. 

Polyhexi — the northern equivalent of the Kaoni type, generally kinda short and stocky. Super common.

Tyresti — tends to be tall and slim. Design aesthetic leans toward big audial fins, spoilers, generally more flourishes than strictly necessary. Not super common outside of Tyrest.

Tyger Paxi — smallish, often Round. Most notable trait is three-fingered hands, also tend to be enframed with a colorful paintjob. Not common outside of Tyger Pax.

Despite the subtype names being based on locale of origin, they can generally be found all over the planet. There are more of the Polyhexi light standard subtype in Helex than in Polyhex, for example.

Average heights tend to range between 16′ to 20′ or so. Modding for occupation, hobbies, or just plain fashion is very very common and there are a load of different frame blueprints anyway, which makes identifying who’s got what frametype even more difficult. (Functionists hate this.)

↠   Heavy standards are also super common and can be hard to tell apart, though less so because there’s only six subtypes. The Towers subtype is particularly difficult to identify unless you have experience; they can potentially be shorter and weigh less than those aforementioned really large light standards. Heavy standards tend to be more heavyset than light standards, but aside from being slightly larger the main difference between the frametypes is in armor and engine grade  — heavies have heavier armor and more powerful engines; they're made to carry a bigger load.

Hesperidus class — more or less the 'ancestral' type. They tend to be leggier and a bit slimmer than other heavies. Spot a hesperidus mech by the deep chests and the big feet.

Equatorial, Boreal, and Austral types were the result of semi-deliberate selection for large long-distance haulers, in the ages before throttles and dexters. They tend to be boxy, heavyset, probably have a van alt.

Towers class —  was developed much later than the rest, to fit the Second Generation nobility's aesthetic ideals because what's the point of having a capable servant if they don't look good? (Second Generation noble culture, incidentally, is where the seeds of Functionism came from.)

They also tend to be found in lower-ranked castes than the light standards (with two exceptions being the priestly castes and medics, the former because size is a useful visual shorthand for authority and the latter because working on bigger patients is easier if u are also Big). You'll occasionally see them with offroad tyres and utility altmodes, whereas that's very much Frowned Upon for light standards under a Functionist viewpoint.

↠   Throttles came from the same semideliberate selection process as the bigger heavy standard classes. Cybertronian society in the rebuilding years of the First Generation was mostly made up of small frametypes (because the small frametypes were those who found it easiest to hide underground from the Cataclysm!), and so once they emerged from the cavernous underworld, they found they had a great need for larger, stronger mecha capable of going long distances without the need for refueling. (This is also the same process that gave rise to the durus and efficiens system configurations.) Throttles were the largest and heaviest of these mecha, and for a long time they were actively prized - up until supply outstripped demand and they became associated so strongly with the labor castes that as the social value of the labor castes decreased, so did the status of the throttles.

There are two subtypes:

Southern — developed in the First Generation settlement of the Austral rus. They’re Extremely Common in the labor castes due to their size, strength, and physical endurance. Their armor pattern is usually kinda blocky and/or pointy because that was the height of Fashion for ages and ages. Probably turns into a small truck or some other specialised work vehicle.

Northern — developed about the same time in the settlement of the Tagan rus. Much less common as a result, because the Tagan Heights turned out to be a huge pain in the ass to colonise. They’re often Extremely Round and very well-reinforced, could probably fall off a mountain and their reaction would be like “oops my bad.” 

↠   Minibots are the one frametype to have thrived in the Cataclysm. Cybertron's underworld is full of cramped and narrow spaces, so smaller mecha were able to take shelter much deeper and in many more places than larger mecha. The original minibots tended to look like a standard, simply scaled down. Modern frametype subdivisions occurred once Cybertronian society moved out of the underworld into the wide open plains and proto-cities of the First Generation, and suddenly being small in a world of increasingly large mecha was a scarier prospect. 

Compact minibots — selected for resilience and the ability to take a pounding and bounce back as quickly as possible. They’re flexible, with simple internal system design and often end up looking a lot like one another, aside from paintjobs and other personal decorations.

Articulates — selected for agility and the ability to get into spaces other mecha can’t. Often built with non-standard proportions, long limbs and occasionally extra limbs and tails. 

Sylph minibots — selected for speed and the ability to avoid getting hit in the first place. Common as a frametype, especially where space or other resources are at a premium.

It's culturally quite common and accepted for the articulate and sylph types to physically climb all over their larger brethren (provided they have the appropriate relative ranks/social status). This serves the dual purpose of putting the minibot on more or less the same level as their interlocutor, and making sure the minibot is out of the way of getting stepped on or whatever.

↠   Dexters were one result of a deliberate bioengineering project during the Quintesson Wars, at a time when Cybertron was losing the fight and thus was getting desperate enough to throw whatever the heck they could come up with at the invaders. Researchers took code inheritances from heavy standards, throttles, and heavy warbuilds to create a new type of mech, one with the inherent combat capabilities of the warbuilds and the size, strength, and most importantly the endurance and resilience of the large groundframes, which could serve as an all-rounder both in combat and in supply chains and behind-the-lines defense. Unlike some previous attempts at bioengineering, this was a roaring success.

Dexters are also quite common among Towersmecha despite their size and the perception of them as being suited best to labor, hauling and fighting. The Towersmecha are deliberately invoking an older perception of dexters: this is the shit that won us the Quintesson Wars, so put up or shut up.

Aegis dexters — often interestingly lanky in appearance - think TFP Optimus and pre-war Soundwave - and heavily-armored enough that the warbuild inheritance is visible. They are the most common subtype; you'll find them most often in the military and ground freight castes.

Eurus dexters — some of the biggest groundframes, often outstripping the largest heavy warbuilds and coming second only to their dexter cousins, the rayets. They are much more heavyset than the aegis subtype, though again visibly well-armored. They tend to have something of an hourglass shape, and altmodes are basically limited to large haulers, tanks, and guncars.

Rayet dexters — the largest groundbound transforming mecha bar none. They are often tall and leggy, though not to the same extent as aegis dexters, and the vast majority take on rail altmodes and work in rail-based castes. The largest can have difficulty finding accommodation and furniture that's rated for their size. Some absolute madman once had the idea of creating a combiner entirely out of rayet dexters and these guys are now basically the biggest celebrities on Velocitron. (Literally.) 

Notes on Flightframes

↠   Light jets are most of what came through the Cataclysm unharmed; jets have always tended larger than groundbound frames because of their engines (both physical size and the size of the tanks needed to hold enough fuel to keep them going) and also their wings. The frametype subdivisions among light jets are divided by engine grade and how far a jet can fly without needing to be refueled, and therefore size.

Flightframes in general can be easily modded for aquatic altmodes, but it is most common among light jets. This is a fairly comprehensive mod, involving most bodily systems, but it's not considered a reformat because it's not really changing any of the frame's basic architecture (although wing area is usually significantly reduced). By contrast, modding a warframe or a groundframe for a fully-aquatic altmode requires a full reformat.

Super-light jets — the jet equivalent of minibots, fairly common and especially well-suited to city life. Often small and agile enough to fly indoors, and like groundbound minibots are prone to climbing their larger brethren. Flightframes tend to dislike this more than groundframes do, so this subtype has a reputation for being particularly scatterbrained and tactile.

Aurora-class — a little larger, match well to the light and heavy standards in size class. Usually leggy with wide shoulders and dorito torsos, engines often slung on the back between flexible wing-joints. Accounts for probably like 25% of all flightframes because they strike a handy balance of ‘can fly’ with ‘relatively cheap to build’ and ‘won’t drink you out of house and home.’

Comet-class — larger again, roughly dexter-sized. Cuts a striking figure with long wings and legs, but aren’t particularly economic either in enframing costs or fuel intake. Mostly they turn up in rich clades, which then gives them a secondary reputation for being Pretty.

↠   Heavy jets diverged from light jets twice - once during the Dynasty of Primes, and once again after the Cataclysm. The largest Dynastic flightframes were simply too large to take shelter underground as the meteorites began to hit. As such, while light jets are one of the five most common frametypes, heavy jets are much rarer, and tend to be limited in the jobs they do and the castes they occupy. Socially, they’re also limited by their sheer size - a common refrain among the larger flightframes.

Like light jets, the subtypes are divided by engine grade and range, and overall size:

Notos-class — the smallest, but only relative to the other classes. Usually identifiable by not having delta-wings, and a relatively slim v-shaped frame. 

Lipara-class — delta-winged and often built like a flying brick. You can tell they were built for cargo, although these days they’re somewhat outdated. 

Erebus-class — delta-winged, extreme long-distance fliers built for speed and coverage. Often mistaken for smaller shuttles, but generally not capable of spaceflight.

↠   Shuttles diverged from heavy jets relatively late; during the Quintesson Wars, as a product of the increased need for rapid long-distance transport. The smallest shuttles usually look very similar in root-mode to the Erebus-class heavy jets (and even their frame blueprints and code inheritance is extremely similar at a glance), but where heavy jets are limited to atmospheric flight, the shuttles are capable of spaceflight. Consequently the heavy jet >> shuttle reformat is one of the easiest to do.

Delta-class — the vanguard of Cybertron’s moon colonies, designed for local space exploration. Tend to have the classic flightframe dorito shape with large delta wings.

Iota-class — capable of longer-range spaceflight, generally built to be extremely self-sufficient. Usually not an atmospheric flier; wings are small if present at all and tend to get tacked onto unusual places in root mode.

Omega-class — these guys are the biggest transforming Cybertronians, period. Extremely rare, extremely valuable; all those in existence were created by cold-construction in several waves during the Imperial expansion period, explicitly to augment imperial Cybertron's colonial forces. Can be very expensive to maintain, don’t tend to be economically independent in their own right.*

↠   Satellites diverged from heavy jets during the Second Generation, in an experiment which took the lonely high-altitude communications relay hubs and stationed them on the edge of space, orbiting Cybertron like the moons. These first satellites were heavy jets which underwent a fairly simple reformat to make them spaceworthy and give them powerful inbuilt communications hardware. In the early years, these mecha underwent many more mods to make them more efficient at their jobs, and new satellites were designed according to a particular psychological profile - many of those early recruits were simply too social to tolerate extended periods of solitude. Quickly, a new frametype emerged.

Perseid & Lyrid — very similar subtypes originating from Praxus and Tarn respectively. These are common in public, private, and military enterprises alike, and are capable of limited atmospheric flight. They tend to be lanky and full of interesting cables.

Eridanid — rarer, larger, and less maneuverable in atmospheric flight. Most satellites are faceless because why bother? but eridanids take this to an extreme and sometimes lack normal arms or heads entirely. 

Tryptid — the largest, are not capable of atmospheric flight at all beyond what is necessary to reach orbital altitude. Like eridanids, they can be identified by fuckin weird body plans.

Satellites and shuttles both contain base coding that prepares them for long periods of solitude. Satellites especially spend most of their time hooked into various planetary networks and often have lively online presences, but depending on their jobs they may go entire vorn without being in the physical presence of another mech. They have a reputation for being very self-sufficient as a result, and often experience culture shock upon returning to their planetary bases.

↠   Rotaries were created in the same no-holds-barred frenzy of military experimentation that created dexters. These are the odd ducks of the flightframe family, inherently flight-capable but sharing more of their code blueprint with groundframes than with flightframes. Cybertronian rotaries are augmented with adjustable jet engines, increasing their load capabilities and range to an extent. Their specialty is in slow flight and hovering; they were designed essentially as aerial assault platforms. They are heavily-armored, usually have two or three different engine systems, often bristling with gun placements, and most of them are rather large. 

Zephyr-class — smallish, usually angular and winged. Historically less common than their larger counterparts because of their smaller size, but also an unfortunate tendency to be aggressive little fraggers.

Bolide-class — bigger, more common, best defenses of any of the flightframes, primarily because they’re easy targets. Tend to be built like bricks, with about that much subtlety too.

Notes on Warframes

↠   Light warbuilds and heavy warbuilds are primarily distinguished from each other by armor grade and intended combat role, with heavy warbuilds taking on direct combat roles and light warbuilds primarily intended for ancillary roles (though they are perfectly capable of combat if required and do share the combat optimization of the warframe class as a whole). Light warbuilds have a lighter armor grade, and do not get quite as large as heavy warbuilds, but otherwise they can be very hard to tell apart.

Skirmisher class — optimized for ranged combat and awkward terrain. Light and agile with a lot of gun emplacements and highly developed sensory processing with built-in targeting software. Often mistaken for ur average sedan.

Scout class —  optimized for information gathering and being very sneaky. Look like minibots, usually.

Ranger class — combine the two previous types with a focus on long-term missions and endurance. Also tend to look like nothing in particular.

Executive class — are the rarest subtype, with a focus on large-scale data analysis, communications and command. Lots of variation in body type and armor pattern; the internal stuff is what’s characteristic of the subtype.

Heavy warbuilds are divided into three subclasses based on size, armor grade, and intended combat role:

Chevalier class — optimized mainly for speed in close quarters combat. They range across four size classes and account for the largest percentage of the warbuild population. Could be mistaken for an average sedan, but the armor grade tends to be a giveaway.

Reinforcement class — optimized for holding a defensive line; they have the heaviest armor and generally the biggest weapons. Brick-shaped, sometimes wider than they are tall.

Frontliner class — optimized for breaking the other side's defensive line; they have the second biggest weapons and are generally the biggest scariest mecha on the field. Tend to be what others think of when they hear the word 'warframe', despite being relatively uncommon.

↠   Flighted Warbuilds are often called Seekers, a reference to their tendency for target fixation. The nickname caught on in common parlance for being less of a mouthful than the original term. Seekers originated from the same source as dexters and rotaries; their initial code blueprint was a blend of flightframe physical capabilities with warframe armor, weapons systems, and skeletal architecture. Despite having inherent flight capabilities, Seekers are counted among the warframes because they possess all the extra bits that make warframes what they are. They are by far and away the most successful of the warborn frametypes, with a population nine times larger as the dexters and nearly thirty times larger than the rotaries.

Seekers are divided into three subtypes by size, intended combat role, and range. 

Skirmisher class — the smallest, agile in the air and best against aerial opponents, but also have the smallest range. Tend to be slim and leggy in root mode.

Bomber class — the largest, with the longest range, the highest top speed and the biggest guns, but also the least maneuverable. Tend to be solid and heavy-limbed in root mode.

Multirole class — strike an elegant balance between skirmisher and bomber, and are generally considered the archetypal Seeker. Classic long-legged dorito shape in root mode.

↠   Triplechangers also originate from the wartime developmental period, but remain exponentially rarer than the other three warborn frametypes, primarily because of the truly ludicrous cost associated with building a triplechanger frame. If you see a triplechanger, chances are they’re either high-ranking military or out of the Towers.

They are divided into two subtypes by size and potential altmode groups: 

Ouranos class — generally take one large grounded altmode such as a freight hauler and one small jet or aquatic altmode. Roughly brick-shaped.

Atlas class — generally take one very large grounded altmode such as a locomotive or a tank, and one large jet or aquatic altmode. Roughly house-shaped.

Notes on Monophase Frames

↠   The defining characteristic of monophase frames is that they do not transform. They are a product of the Golden Age colonial push, built to sacrifice transformation ability for defensive size and self-sufficiency. The latter means that they are their own transport, accommodation, and energy-production facility. They do require an intermediary to act for them in the physical world of Cybertron, due to being too large to participate in most real-world social environments, but otherwise are entirely independent. This intermediary is called a keynote, drawing from the much older practice of symbiosis between Cybertronians and minicons, wherein the Cybertronian 'host' is referred to as a keynote. (Similarly, the heart of a gestalt network is also referred to as a keynote.)

↠   Sparked ships came first; the logical conclusion of the Omega class shuttle program. The enormous spark of a sparked ship, created by energy drawn from the Well of All Sparks over a full day, allows such ships to support bodies and systems exponentially larger than an Omega class shuttle - large enough that transformation became impossible, and even larger; enough that the loss of transformation capability was worth it. Sparked ships could carry propulsion systems capable of reaching far-flung corners of the galaxy; necessary in the years before the space bridge network, and could monitor and control their own life-support systems, making decisions in extremis and allowing mecha on board to be placed in suspended animation for the length of the journey to ensure that the ship reached its destination with plenty of resources with which to build a colony.

↠   Sparked cities followed soon after, as an extension of the same program. The first sparked city, named Boreas, was placed on Cybertron, becoming a satellite city of Protihex. 

The advantage of sparked cities over traditional cities was that they could be built with extremely limited mobility. Place a sparked city by a rich mineral vein as a convenient residence for all your workers and smelters/refineries, and once the vein runs dry in the future, the city can, over several months, recycle or cast off much of its mass, allowing for efficient transport to the new location and in the process reducing itself to its most fundamental skeleton, at which point it it can simply pick itself up and walk to the next location.

Notes on Unclassified Frames

This is where the mad science happens. :D

↠   Unclassified frames are built from scratch. They might start off from the skeleton of a recognised frametype (most do because it's slightly cheaper) but then be modified past the point of recognition for some reason - usually, to fulfil a task that requires unusual specs. It takes a lot to make such a frame 'unclassified' - you have to change multiple systems in a pervasive manner. One example are the handful of 'living gun emplacements' that were created during Nova Prime's colonial wars, mecha whose entire frames were built around an enormous plasma gun. These mecha did not live long or comfortable lives; the stresses of firing that gun ultimately proved too much and the design was shelved indefinitely.

Red Alert is the only unclassified frame I've thought much about; he has most of the outward features of a standard Cybertronian (he looks like a particularly tall heavy standard) but his 'alt mode' is basically him wiring himself into a very special supercomputer, one of three that monitor the Grid at all times. He's stuffed full of interesting nanocircuits that don't look like anything much until he's in that alt mode form, at which they reveal themselves to be thousands of very small processors geared toward a single purpose - data monitoring. (If you're doing stuff on the Grid, you've got a one in three chance of Red Alert being your own personal FBI agent meme.)

Notes on Other Shit

↠   Economic independence (or lack thereof) is an unfortunate Golden Age construction related to the buying and selling of debts, and the economic exploitation of those subject to said debts. Larger shuttles and satellites, triplechangers, and especially monophase mecha tend to end up in contracts where their entire lives are controlled by whoever’s paying for their basic upkeep. The individual mech cannot be bought and sold - but their creation debt and upkeep costs can be.

As u can imagine, this went down the plughole with Optimus Prime’s accession to the Primacy; he narrowly escaped a similar fate mainly bc the Hall of Records head honchos had slightly too many Morals. Unfortunately, by then the Great War was well underway.

[druedidit]

Drue Wilkes Intro

★ BIRTH DATE / 21 February, 1960 (bro this is my third pisces i am going out of my fucking mind) ★ BLOOD STATUS / Pureblood ★ PRONOUNS & IDENTITY / she/her; cis female ★ FACECLAIM / Reina Hardesty

ACADEMICS & ROOMING

★ PRIMARY SCHOOL / Cornwall County Day School, 1978 ★ ACADEMIC PURSUITS / Social Studies degree, History of Magic cohort ★ HOUSE & YEAR / Slytherin, 2nd Year

TW: mentions of murder, suicide, and gaslighting

POINTS OF INTEREST

★ The Wilkes, unlike most of the families listed as the Sacred 28, did not have much in means of monetary value to fall back and survive on. They were forced to become working class people, after the failure of yet another business idea of Rupert Wilkes. When two children came along, Devin and Drue, it only complicated things further. Thankfully, Lindsey Wilkes was able to salvage a hair dresser’s business in Diagon Alley, with a small flat above. It was much too stuffy for four people and while the adults complained and huffed, it was nothing but normal to their two children. Eventually, they were able to afford another business, just next door. They even had the opportunity to join the two flats above.

★ Owning the Junk Store, which worked like a wizard’s pawn shop, introduced the Wilkes to many opportunities they thought they’d never have. Most of the objects that came through their shop were faulty and Mr. Wilkes would spend hours trying to fix them -- success was 40/60. One day, something came through their shop he couldn’t pass up. A time turner. Months were spent, casting charms and spells to make it function good as new. And what do you know? Rupert Wilkes mended it. It became their family’s sole, greatest possession. The only thing of value to the Wilkes name.

★ Of course, having that much power would eventually lead to some trouble. In 1975, after Rupert refused to turn back time to save the family’s dying pet, Devin took it upon herself to steal the time turner. Fifteen year old Drue was woken from a dead sleep, to the sounds of screams. She always thought in a moment like so, she’d freeze up. But no, Drue ran on to her parent’s bedroom, and found her older sister standing over their limp bodies. Devin said only two words murder, suicide. Her life was now built upon this lie, because her sister refused to go back in time now and had much graver plans.

★ Devin never hid a single murder she committed from her younger sister. Family breakfast became confessional. Gory detail after gory detail, Drue knew if her sister did not slow down soon, she would be caught. Or become notoriously known. Either way, having the advantage of being two places at once seemed to lessen her chances of ever being arrested. But without Drue’s own sharp perception, she does not trust Devin’s sloppy ways and has vowed to assist her sister in her crimes. Drue’s become her own personal bait to lure in victims and participates in crime scene clean up. Now, in 1980, Devin has committed seven murders in the last four years. She believes spacing them out will draw away attention. Drue sincerely hopes so.

Extra HC Shit

She & her sister, Devin, claim their mum was a huge advocate for peace and muggleborns. They’ve even inspired people to start a foundation named after Lindsey Wilkes (who was allegedly murdered at the hands of her husband), which encourages blood unity through muggle sports such as tennis, bowling, and roller blading. They do not care if their pureblood allies believe them to be blood traitors. The end game is much more important -- you must be friends with your enemies.

Has never been too affected by the death of her parents, tbh? And though she lives this uncomfortable paycheck-to-paycheck life, she blames them for all of Devin’s disadvantages in life.

Works part-time at Junk Shop and the hairdressers called Hair Dahlia. There was no large inheritance when her parents died. They were left with more debt than anything and both had to continue working. Devin did not attend Hogwarts and Drue only got in on a scholarship for academics.

Working at the Junk Shop has turned her into a total COLLECTOR OOPS! But, she just collects the cool stuff that looks “artsy”. More so for aesthetic than function. Her dream of all dreams is to open some sort of art history museum in the wizarding world. Of course, the funds make it almost impossible to. She is majoring in History because of this, however. Might as well become rich in knowledge if you can’t with money, right?

Is a large participant in JWL and has never felt the need to exactly prove herself because of her lack of money. She feels her ideas and informative opinions are enough to carry her through. Maybe she’ll be so lucky to become President next year, with a little elbow grease.

Devin, her older sister is 100% a Death Eater. Drue’s in the process of being recruited. Which, she more than accepts. Their message is something she agrees with. Although, she wouldn’t be so messy about it -- it’s why she’s going to join. To reform the Death Eaters and keep her sister out of any crossfire.

Also speaks Japanese, is learning Latin, and is a fan of haiku, unironically.

TRAITS

✓  audacious; accommodating; tough  ✗ gaslighting; extravagant; amoral

yes so p.s. my dears..... while i am not a fan of “mindgames”/intentionally gaslighting people, drue can be that way. it may actually be unintentional sometimes because how often she has done it in the past. anyways, i understand it can be a lot! if you ever, ever, ever need me to tag something as a trigger, let me know!!! <3 trust me bbs, i gotchu!

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

A Call of a Siren - Chapter 2

A/N: As you guys have noticed, I tweaked a few things to fit Delia into the story but please let me know if I missed or messed up something on the storyline. Again, looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested. Chapter three should be up soon along with everyone's favorite angry boy. I don't own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi's masterpiece of a world I'd love to live in.

Chapter One

_____________________________________________________________

“I expect you to all to still work hard on exams even though the end of the school year is in sight!” Her teacher was lecturing them on the importance of tests or something but Cordelia had other things on her mind. 

Nine months ago, she saw the world's greatest hero and a scrawny boy her age on the beach. A day she wouldn’t forget as it was a major part of why she was trying her damndest to get into UA in a month.

She went to the beach mostly everyday on a run and also practiced in her room after her family went out or was asleep. She also tried to incorporate some strength training exercises she got off the internet as she was sure you needed more than cardio to make it in. 

One thing she found herself doing, albeit shamefully, was sort of spying on All Might and Izuku Midoriya train on the beach and park. She didn’t necessarily go out of her way but it was on her training grounds too. No matter how she reasoned it, she still kept her distance and would hide at first sign of being found. It also didn’t help that she felt she had stumbled on a major invasion of privacy as she witnessed the strong and well, mighty, All Might transform to a tall but skinny weaker man. The first time she saw it she thought her eyeballs were for sure going to pop out her skull and fall to the floor with her jaw. She would never tell out of respect for the hero but still...every time he did it was like a mini heart attack especially when he would cough up blood afterwards. Like Jesus man please go see a doctor!

“Miss Bell I hope that dazed look on your face means you are thinking of your study schedule this weekend?” 

Her head turned from the window and faced the teacher, “ Oh, yes of course!” 

“Hmm..so anyways class -” Cordelia went right back to gazing out the window. 

_______________________________________________________

“ FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO DO YOUR STUPID STRETCHES BRAT!” Angry boy yelled at her for the 400th time.

Delia rolled her eyes again but continued her stretches where she was. She was here first anyway. Not that it mattered as she always stretched here because after Angry boy decided it was his workout spot she decided it was hers too. 

“Oi, don’t ignore me! Move your fat ass out of here!” 

“No thanks I’m good. And who are you calling fat ass, big tits?” She laughed as he bristled immediately at her response. He reminded her of a cat, all puffy and angry,  when he got like that which only made her giggle more. She wished to know his name but last time she asked he flipped her off. 

Looking at her watch, she realized she was going to be late for dinner. “Oh crap. Gotta go! Bye Big tits!” 

His water bottle flew right past her head as she ran off while he screamed expletives at her. “Hey!” She scolded. She slowed down enough to pick it up and chucked it with maximum force back at him, “don’t fucking litter!” 

She ran a little quicker when she heard the little pops of his quirk which is when she realized a few months ago that he was getting more pissed. “Goddamn brat!”

________________________________________________________

“Cordelia, you are late! Go wash up.” Her mother scolded her from the kitchen as she walked in the house. 

“Lost track of time! Sorry I’ll be quick!” She hopped up the stairs and nearly ran into her father, wearing his uniform, on the way. “Oops sorry Daddy!”

 Yes, she still called her father ‘Daddy.’

 Her ‘Daddy’ was a 6’4 man with piercing blue eyes that could intimidate anybody which probably helped with his job. Her mother always liked to point out that of course all her children had to inherit his blue eyes and not her brown ones.  

“Hey,” His hand shot out to gently grab her wrist before she could keep going, “What is all this training you doing for?” 

“Nothing in particular. Can’t I have a hobby?” She lied through her teeth before continuing on upstairs. 

“Cordelia…” 

“Dad. Teenage girl who wants to be fit - not rocket science!” 

Hopping in the hot shower, Delia relaxed finally. She was soooo lying to her family but felt it necessary as they stood on opposite ground concerning her dream of becoming a hero. 

She had a dream. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight just because she was alone in it. Deep down she was hoping if she became a good enough hero she could change their minds about the matter. 

She even took many preemptive precautions such as designating herself as the mail person of the house. She got it every day without fail and they would get used to just depending on her to get it. She managed to get a third cordless phone for the house she’d hide in her room to check the number in case of any specific calls coming through. She even created a fake parent email and perfected their signatures if needed. She was good at lying but it never felt easier on her to lie regardless of her reasons. 

“CORDELIA!” 

With a sigh, she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. At least I dry off quickly, she thought amused as she wicked the water off her body and out of her hair. 

__________________________________________________________

It was exam day. 

Delia’s nerves were all over the place as she sat in the auditorium filled with the other hopefuls. They grouped them by class it seemed though she didn’t recognize those sitting near her. Her fault, she was sure, as she didn’t reach out to others during this past year as she just assumed or more like hoped she’d be transferring after the year was up. 

She wondered where Midoriya was as he was the reason she got her butt here in the first place. 

The Pro, Present Mic, continued to shout out to the crowd of potential students but Delia figured everyone was too wound up to join in or even focus enough. He was in the process of explaining their physical test when a loud voice rang out. A boy with cut blue hair and glasses stood suddenly and practically demanded answers of a possible inconsistency regarding the robots before the Pro could probably get to it (impatient much?) and then turned behind him to yell at the very boy she was wondering about for muttering too loudly. 

She wanted to laugh but her nerves were already fraying. As they were announcing the order of tests and people were slowly being shuffled out of the auditorium, Delia took a long breath before marching outside with the others. 

____________________________________________________________

This was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. 

She went on auto pilot as soon as the doors opened. Everyone rushed forward only to be immediately greeted by a bunch of green robots with glowing red eyes. Without thinking, she looked for the nearest water source...yes, a fire hydrant!...and reached her hand outwards to pull the water. A burst of water came rushing out that she quickly sharpened into her normal water whip and sliced out at the first two robots she saw ahead of her, breaking their heads off. 

“Wow that was amazing!” A girl with short brown hair to her left shouted at her before running further down the street. Delia blinked. Holy shit, that was amazing! For a moment, Delia felt she could really do this...until about 10 minutes later.

The robots didn’t give her a minute to think anymore, which considering her extreme anxiety over today was probably a good thing, and she used her whip to maim any robot who came within range. As soon as she was finally racking up a few points, a giant shadow loomed over the street. 

It was the zero points robot. 

Holy shitballs it was huge, Delia thought, shielding her face, as it stomped its way over causing surrounding small buildings and the street itself to explode with force everywhere. 

She was about to run but she heard someone cry out. It was the really nice girl from earlier who was caught under the debris from the zero pointer. 

Everyone was running. 

Then she ran. 

Towards the girl. 

There was water running from a broken pipe so she willed it near her as she skidded to the girl and put her hand up and the water formed a water dome around her the girl as they braced themselves for the next step from the robot but it never came. 

“SMASH!” Midoriya yelled from above them. Through the water she saw him go flying at the face of the robot and hit it so hard the zero pointer was thrown back with a broken face. 

“Oh my god” she whispered. The water fell on them in a whoosh and she snapped back to the girl and pushed the rock up far enough to wiggle her leg out. Looking up, she saw Midoriya start to fall and her heart continued to race as she tried to figure out how to catch him but the girl who was stuck ran, now with a limp, touch a rock and float upwards towards him. She meets him halfway then taps him midair and slowly brings them back to earth. Then promptly throws up off the side of the rock. 

The buzzer goes off. 

Times up. 

Delia felt her shoulder drop in disappointment. She only had 20 points from the smaller robots and barely. That was it. She was stuck at a regular school and wouldn’t be a pro hero. 

The finality of things started to weigh on her and followed her as she shuffled her way home, trying not to cry.

____________________________________________________________

The wait was killing her. 

It’s been days and she’s checked the mail repeatedly. Damn near scared the mailman a few times when she ran up to him a few houses before hers.

By the time it came, she had all but figured she failed so badly that they weren’t gonna waste time with a letter. Yeah, she was being dramatic but still. 

Finally, a small package addressed to her arrived. Delia had to wait until her parents went out to the store with Henry before she could run to her room and play it. After triple checking they left, she set it up on her small desk and internally started to scream. 

“Young Bell, it is me All Might! I am here! To give you your results on your exam to UA!” 

There goes her ability to breathe. 

She started to bite her lip nervously. 

“It says here that you scored 24 points on your practical and did well enough in your written test. BUT” 

She was now on the verge of gnawing her lip off.

“While your scores were alright enough, what really wowed us was your last few minutes of the practical!”

He started a small screen next to him of the girl who was stuck under a rock talking to someone behind the camera. 

“Is it possible to share my points?!” The girl exclaimed to someone behind the camera. 

Delia’s hand went to her chest as the girl, who didn’t know her nor should’ve bothered to do this, wanted to make sure her and Midoryia earned enough points and if not, to give them some of hers. Her lip had to have been bruised by now.

“Did you really think a Hero academy judged solely on the ability to hit a robot? We look at everything! And you, Young Bell, embody just the right person we strive to teach! You went ahead without thinking or caring about anything but the girl and acted- acted heroically! We awarded you 30 more points bringing your total to a whopping 54! So, Young Bell, I want to congratulate you on your acceptance to UA! Welcome, future hero!” 

Delia’s lip was bleeding now but she didn’t care. Tears were rushing down her face before she could stop them.

She thought it was done.

But really- it was just beginning. 

She sent a silent thank you to the boy on the beach and the hero they both looked up to

[antagonistchan]

really long post sorry lol but i have so many thoughts about this that i so desperately need to get out

Something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: Cheating in Transformers.

For some backstory; I’ve vaguely known about Transformers as long as I can remember (I had a bunch of Armada minicons as a little kid, and my Dad liked G1 when he was a kid and told me about it a couple times (and eventually I inherited his old toys)). And then I really got into Transformers myself in 2006 when I was 8 years old, when I started watching Transformers: Cybertron (which was already over halfway done at that point, oops, but still). And then I got REALLY into Transformers myself in 2008, when I truly discovered the Transformers fandom (I discovered tfwiki, and I discovered a couple Transformers youtubers who I actually still follow today, and I realized that I wanted to start collecting Transformers...); ever since then, I’ve been a hardcore Transformers fan. Transformers has consistently been at least one of my biggest fandoms this whole time. And most of the time it’s my absolute biggest, I’ve just had a couple phases here and there of thinking “maybe I care about this other thing just as much as if not more than Transformers” (most notably during my Vocaloid phase from 2015-2018). My favorite video game of all time is the Mass Effect trilogy, and a couple weeks ago I was thinking “there’s probably nothing that could ever top Mass Effect as my all-time favorite game” and then a week later I realized “Actually, no, there’s one thing that could potentially push Mass Effect aside, and that would be my dream Transformers game”.

So, I'm currently 23, I got into Transformers when I was 8, and I’ve been a hardcore fan since I was ten. More than half of my life. Way more than half of my conscious life since the first few years don’t really count.

So, with that context in mind, returning to the point of this post: Cheating.

I don’t like it when Transformers cheat. The robot mode and the altmode are extremely important to me, but ultimately, the most important part of a Transformer is the transformation between the two itself. And when it’s cheating, I feel a little... well, cheated.

Point 1: Bayverse. When I first saw the Bayverse designs, I was immediately put off because I knew that those designs couldn’t translate into toys without cheating. The only toys that even remotely approach movie-accurate transformations are Masterpieces and old Leader-class toys, and even then it’s not fully there. So like, the Bayverse designs feel like they’re missing the point of Transformers. And remember, I was a kid back then. I’m not saying I was a super mature kid or anything; rather, I was put off because of my childlike priorities. I wanted a toy that didn’t lie to me.

The Bumblebee-style designs are a step in the right direction; the characters are all actually recognizable as themselves now. But the whole design philosophy is still wildly out of scale with what’s actually possible in a toy. And god, as I get older, the more and more I do actually understand the appeal of the Bayverse design philosophy. It is a really cool and creative and interesting design philosophy. But it’s a good design philosophy for a movie, NOT for a toy. So even though I actually appreciate the Bayverse style now, it still stings that it doesn’t really understand toys, and the only Bayverse-style toys I’d ever be willing to buy are the insanely expensive ones.

(Also, it’ll always sting at least re: non-Bumblebee designs that the most high-profile part of the brand for so long was one of the least representative, and was so radically different from everything else. To a lot of people, Bayverse is Transformers. If those people are hardcore fans... I don’t mind too much that Bayverse defined Transformers for them. I can’t fully relate, but I do relate a little (these movies have been around and huge for more than half of my life, I definitely have some nostalgia for them), and they clearly have a lot of love for it and that largely placates me. But the fact that Bayverse also defined Transformers to a lot of casual consumers- THAT makes me wildly uncomfortable)

I had a similar initial reaction to Animated’s designs, but then Animated’s designs actually won me over because the designers used some sort of blood magic to make the toys actually work. The toys actually transform the way they do in the show! Incredible! And even at reasonable prices, and looking good in both modes (at worst, there’s some minor kibble and visible robot bits)! They actually did understand the point of Transformers, and I feel ashamed for having ever doubted them! Animated is actually one of the highest points of Transformers, both in media and in the toys! God, I love Animated!

Point 2: Speaking of Animated, we gotta talk about Wreck-Gar.

And by “We gotta talk about Wreck-Gar”, I mean “Wreck-Gar is actually perfectly fine and everyone’s way too harsh on him”. Animated Wreck-Gar is one of the most infamous backpack-formers, and backpack-forming is one of the most infamous methods of cheating.... but honestly, with Wreck-Gar, it doesn’t feel like cheating at all.

Yeah, he’s got most of a dump truck hanging off his back... but it feels like that’s the point. A dump truck is already just a cargo delivery system, so with Wreck-Gar, it just feels like the robot is still just a cargo delivery system. He doesn’t have a backpack because he’s poorly-designed, he has a backpack because he has a backpack.

That’s not to say the backpack-forming doesn’t have any issues. It does still create two problems- that is, it restricts his waist articulation and gives him balance issues. Those are both unfortunate. But it’s not cheating.

Kibble doesn’t feel like cheating if it feels like it’s supposed to be there.

Point 3: Fake kibble.

CHUG toys like to cheat a lot, especially lately.

For instance, PotP Punch/Counterpunch. Counterpunch’s chest is not the actual windows; the real windows are in his feet and slot over Counterpunch’s chest.

This is... kinda clever. It’s still cheating, but the fake thing is just hidden inside the real one, so everything’s kinda in the same place.

But again, it is still cheating, and I feel like cheating misses the point for me.

In this case, they’re clearly cheating because it makes the two modes look better. And they’re right. If the altmode used Counterpunch’s real chest, it’d be too small; and if Counterpunch used the altmode’s real windows, it’d be too big. I get it. But I just don’t think that’s worth the cheating.

But much like actual kibble, sometimes fake kibble doesn’t feel like cheating.

Optimus Prime has had many many toys with fake cheating over the years, because they’ve experimented with so many ways for him to transform but like to keep his design mostly intact (hell, that’s part of why they’ve experimented so much- Floro Dery’s take on his design is really hard to replicate in a toy). And they have varying levels of “does this feel like cheating”.

Classics Voyager Optimus Prime is cool, but his fake kibble is absolutely cheating.

Powermaster Prime doesn’t feel like cheating at all to me. Part of that is because in the Masterforce anime (which I saw before I’d even seen the toy), they don’t hide how he actually transforms in the slightest. They show him transforming, and he transforms like the toy. There, it feels like they just wanted him to transform different, but wanted to keep the iconic details, rather than making him transform different for the sake of the iconic details.

Earthrise Optimus Prime’s fake kibble is mostly cheating, but the way it cheats is actually so interesting that, if I force myself to think of it the way I think of Powermaster Prime- pretend that it admits it transforms funny- I can actually accept it as somewhat not cheating.

But there’s one Optimus Prime that doesn’t use fake kibble at all and still ends up with a Floro Dery-accurate robot mode. I really love the way this Optimus Prime transforms.

It just fucking sucks that this Optimus Prime’s vehicle mode is so bad that even I- who prioritizes the transformation above the vehicle mode- am willing to say “Wow, this toy is garbage”.

I’m speaking of Classics Deluxe Optimus Prime. The robot mode isn’t as good as Earthrise’s, but it was good at the time, and god, that transformation is absolutely beautiful. But jesus, that vehicle mode is ugly as shit. I really wish they’d give Classics Deluxe’s general design another go, have an Optimus that transforms just about the same way but doesn’t have the worst fucking vehicle mode of all time.

Point 4: Partsforming.

I don’t usually like partsforming. I have a hard time accepting Earthrise Cliffjumper even though it’s mostly very good because the partsforming is so much.

But sometimes- and I think you might be noticing a pattern after the kibble and fake kibble bits- partsforming doesn’t feel like cheating for me.

Partsforming typically feels right when it actually gets so egregious that it loops back around to being Really Good, Actually.

For instance, RiD01 Ultra Magnus. His entire vehicle mode basically splits in half, and one half becomes his legs while the other half becomes everything else. The fact that he has to split in half so dramatically and then recombine equally dramatically makes it feel like an inventive and unique transformation instead of a cheat.

[cyle]

time for a rant about software engineering

Now what the hell is software engineering? Software engineering is a thin facade of process around the continuous self-reinforced confusion of adults who spend too much time with computers. Software engineering is just a bunch of well-intentioned buffoons swarming around a collective illusion of control. There are hundreds of thousands of us, bouncing from conference talk to breakout grove at just a few hertz below the alerting threshold.

Go and get 100 software engineers in a room right now and ask them "how do we make Facebook responsible?" and the waves of hand-wringing and contradictory answers could power the Earth for ten years. Every engineer in the room would recede to their blockchain startup or protein-folding side project or machine learning whitepaper or immediate blazing firestorm of Slack messages and emails about whatever is breaking at their job right now. You're throwing an ethics question into the second draft of IETF RFC 3986. Nothing is gonna get wasted here but time and bytes replicated across three datacenter regions.

Not a single software engineer you will ever talk to has any goddamn clue about how their work figures into the bigger picture. They'll spend ten months bikeshedding about how big the picture has to be for it to scale, and what language could handle those theoretical 100k big picture requests per second. The very intention in the last sentence is inherently nonsensical-borderline-paradoxical and the engineers in the room won't figure that out for another ten months after they've cleared innumerable sprints of development. 

Nobody has any idea what they're doing because there aren't any rules anywhere. The infinite space of programming has no discernible boundary: we're going to abstract away everything, forever. The very principles of computer software development are antithetical to humanity. DRY (or “don’t repeat yourself”) has us believe at our core that we can reduce complexity down to small reusable bits, OOP (or “object-oriented programming”) has us believe at our core that everything can be broken down into a taxonomic hierarchy of definitions. Those are two examples out of hundreds -- spending most of your life within these principles makes it very easy to see people as users, as data, as just another variable that requires strict typecasting to make the algorithm efficient.

I should know because I’m one of those software engineers! I’m throwing myself under the bus here! I am the bus! I am the road! I am the action of being thrown! I wrote the software that powers this metaphor! I help write the algorithms to reinterpret and index it!

If you genuinely think that class inheritance (even singular) is probably a bad idea and have seen real evidence of this in multiple pull requests against your monolith, you should stop reading now and go start building a log cabin in the woods as you've always wanted. You've earned it. You have some humanity left in you.

There's a tap-out clause in every human being's contract for that moment when they profoundly feel like they've Seen It All™. Honestly, software engineers tend to skip that clause and just keep drinking instead, missing most of the progress of the 17th and 18th centuries. I’ll return to the subject of drinking within two paragraphs. And I’m not trying to signify that “tap-out clause” as suicide or anything, just the insistence that you can change jobs and go make bread or farm potatoes somewhere. Sometimes the money isn’t worth it, friends.

Most of us stick it out for the money though. Occasionally you'll meet somebody whose title is "senior" engineer. A lot of people mistake "senior" to mean that they have answers. They've been through this shit and know things. They have alcohol at their desk -- donated by other people! They have some design patterns and best practices and documented solutions and real world experiences at scale. Oh, great fodder for a consultant job in your 50s when you're trying to get your kid through college. Honestly, I can't believe you even had a kid. I can’t believe you’re alive at 50!

Like some Buddhist once said, "senior" should really mean someone who knows they don't have any answers, just convoluted opinions. Real senior engineers figure out that there aren't any goddamn senior engineers, just a separation between the folks who have no idea and the other folks who know for sure that they have no fucking idea. Usually people in that second camp begin to prefer gin-based drinks because they figure the botanicals make it more healthy than bourbon. Right? Right? Help me out here, I'm thirsty. (Alcoholism and substance abuse are huge problems in the software engineering community!)

Software engineering is not a real discipline! There is no license to write software! An ethics course is not required! There is no test! There is no balance! There is no anything but the same bullshit privileged opinions reinforcing the privileged! Zuck can sit in front of Congress and say “lol we sell ads, my dude” and nobody does anything about it! There are no mistakes, only lost or misguided opportunities! We need to tell software people when they have fundamentally fucked up!

But it’s not all bad. Sometimes I see interns walking around, being excited, wanting to figure things out, and I think "goddamn they're so much better than me"... and it's not a feeling of shame or loss. It's a feeling of hope and joy. Wow, they've really got it by the horns. Like Yoda said: "we are what they grow beyond". That's a wonderful thing, because back here in senior-land we're flawed and we've failed, so hopefully over enough generations, there'll be one person who actually succeeds. 

That person won't be me! I'll be long dead :rip: ! Real senior means you feel this deep down in your bones, Anakin. It's a liberating self-deprecation, an ultimate collapsing tesseract admission of moral defeat.

But then there's a side-chain around that martyrdom, right as you're tying your own noose with fierce machine-bred philosophical rigor: by understanding your own mistakes, you've realized that the only thing you can really do is empower other people to crash themselves upon these same ragged shores. 

You're goddamn Obi-Wan in Ghost Mode sitting on the log shrugging and thinking “goddamnit” while you're also Luke being confused and at the same time you're old Luke staring at Yoda in Ghost Mode being like "goddamnit". It's fucking inception of "I'm worthless" paired with "they're awesome" folding into "we're all doomed" into "I had hope like them once and hope is powerful". Being senior is a belief in a thing that we know is self-defeating, and that’s utterly beautiful and fine and there’s nothing else to do about it.

Jeez, I have no idea what I'm even talking about. Bottom line: just give me enough money to go live in the woods. Have you ever considered becoming sustenance for the beetles and ants? Have you ever felt a Sponsored Moment ad stretch out into infinity, panning the life and death of generations of human endeavor, summing into a holy grail eCPM of $5? For awhile there, we sure did create some shareholder value. Until all that's left is a barren used-up rock of dust and ash, orbiting a star close to collapse? Stone, and dirt, and worms.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 1

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

---

Thursday

Strictly speaking, shouting- even of a profane nature- coming from her boss’s office was not particularly unusual or noteworthy.  Malcolm Tucker was a passionate individual, who had no issue with speaking his mind and a talent for doing so creatively.

She was long since immune to his acid tongue, never blinking no matter the volume or count of profanity – it helped that he was wise enough to never turn on her, the woman who ruled his life and calendar.  She’d come a long way since she first started fresh out of uni, an absolutely terrified twenty-two-year-old who had been talked into accepting a temporary job as her best friend’s father’s assistant until she figured out what she wanted.

That had been eight years ago.

“Rose!”

Sighing, she slipped her feet back into her pumps and stood, smoothing her dress before grabbing her tablet and stylus.  Rapping perfunctorily on his office door before pushing it open, she entered to find him standing at the window with his hands on his hips, staring out at the London skyline.  Taking a moment to appreciate the spectacular view herself, she drew closer.

When he didn’t move, seemingly paralyzed, she coughed discreetly, finally sparking him back to life.

Shoulders slumping Malcolm turned to her, a familiar expression of frustration that eased slightly at the sight of her, tired eyes brightening.  “Yes?”

Rose raised an eyebrow, curious now at what had him so rattled he’d forgotten he’d called for her in the time it took her to enter.  “You shouted?”

“Right.”  He ran fingers through his hair, and she idly noted that he’d need a haircut soon.  The salt and pepper curls were growing wild and fearsome, much as the rest of him, and while the look personally suited him, it did not befit the Executive Director of a non-profit.  “Sorry. Erm- can you get my attorney on the phone?”

“Dave or Alex?”  She blinked innocently at him, his answer telling about whatever the problem was, praying it would be Dave.  The recent level of profanity suggested it would not be, though, his answer confirming her fear.

“Alex.”

Shit.  What now?  Alexander McHenry specialized in family law, and had been Malcolm’s lawyer since his divorce from Clara’s mum more than twenty-five years earlier.  Missy, the once Mrs. Tucker, showed up often enough to cause trouble that after all this time, the lawyer was still on speed dial.  “Two minutes.”

“Thanks.”  He moved towards his desk chair as Rose headed for the door, stopping her just before she exited.  “Hang on- tell him it’s not about Missy.  This is an inheritance matter.  Me inheriting, I mean, not Clara’s trust or anything.”

“Okay.”  She waited a beat, before offering, “If you want to give me more detail-”

Malcolm’s lips twitched into what, for him, was a smile.  “No, I don’t think so.  Not yet. I need to talk to him first.”

With a sharp nod she left, pulling the door mostly shut behind her before sinking into her desk chair, taking a moment to stare at a framed picture sat next to her desk phone.  It was from a few Christmases before, and showed her, Clara, and Malcolm smiling and laughing in front of the office holiday tree during the annual holiday party.  It was her favorite non-family picture, due in part to the genuine happiness radiating off of her in it.

Dialing the number from memory, she waited for Alex’s assistant to answer the phone.  “Lisa?  Rose. Yeah, does he have a few minutes? Malcolm has an inheritance question- no, nothing with her this time, thankfully, at least at the moment.  Yeah, I’ll hold.”

-

Eight years earlier

“So, what are you going to do now?” Clara asked, passing the champagne bottle over.  Now officially graduated, it would be their last time lying on the roof of their rented flat and watching the world pass.

“Fuck if I know.”  Rose took a generous swig, staring up at the dark sky.  Small lights twinkled overhead, a few airplanes mixing with the multitude of stars, and she tried to lose herself in the peaceful, black abyss as she had so many times before.  “My dad said I can come work for him, if I don’t find anything better.”

Clara hummed, taking back the bottle and sipping at it.  “I’m going to travel until classes for my masters start up.  You could come with me?”

Rose made a face only the night sky could see.  “Thanks, but no.  I need some time without you.”  She nudged her friend, turning her head to wink, and they both burst into giggles.  “I just can’t believe it’s over.  Uni is supposed to be 'the best years of our lives’.  I don’t really feel that way though; do you?”

“Nope.”  The raven-haired girl shrugged, sighing.  “We had fun though, didn’t we?”

“Absolutely.”

They sat in silence, passing the bottle back and forth, Clara draining the last drops before venturing, “You know, my Dad’s assistant Jo is retiring – he needs someone to take over.  What about you?”

“I don’t know if my future lies in being a PA though; no offense, but that’s not what I went to Cambridge for.”

“No, you went for French and Art History.  Have you changed your mind about that job at the Louvre?”

“No.”

“Then what good is it doing you?  Working for my dad’s gotta be at least a little less embarrassing than working for your own.  C’mon, it’ll be a temp thing, just until you find something better.  Give it a try?  For me?”

Rose groaned, easing herself upright, careful of both the alcohol in her system and the sloped roof they lay on.  “Fine.”

“Yay!”  Clara bolted upright, and they watched with wide eyes as the empty champagne bottle rolled right off the roof onto the pavement below, the shattering loud in the otherwise silent night.  “Oops.  Brilliant, so, first thing Monday, like eight- I know, I know, you and mornings- you’ll be great.”

It took Rose’s soused brain a few seconds longer than usual to understand her friend’s meaning.  “Hang on, did you already agree to this for me?”

“Yep!  Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!  And it’s only temporary, you’ll see.”

-

“Rose?”

She yelped, startled out of the memory, and looked up to find Malcolm standing beside her desk, watching her with a concerned expression.  “Hi!”

“All right?”

Rose nodded, tucking hair behind her ears and giving him a bright smile.  “Just thinking.  What’s up?” Biting her lip, she glanced him over and saw his backpack, a sure sign he was leaving for the day.  “Heading out?”

“Can’t get anything by you,” he joked, winking.  “I’m going to Alex’s office to go over a few things, then dinner with Clara tonight.  Do I have the restaurant address?”

“Graham does,” she said, referencing his personal driver, “and I’ll text you half an hour before just to be safe.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Malcolm offered, just as he had every day since the dinner had been arranged a week earlier.  “Come hear about her travels.  She wants you to come too, you know.”  His open expression made it clear both Tuckers would welcome her presence, not that she doubted his sincerity.  In fact, his eyes bordered on pleading, which only served to amuse her.

Rose smiled, shaking her head fondly.  “Thanks, but no.  I’m seeing her Saturday for a girl’s night, I’ll hear all about it then.  Tonight, I am going home, ordering takeaway, and vegging.  It’s been such a week with the upcoming gala, I need a break.”  All of which was technically true, but not the real reason; Missy had a tendency to crash these types of dinners, and Rose went out of her way to avoid the woman whenever possible.  She’d heard enough stories from Malcolm and Clara over the years to give a clear picture of the woman behind the sweet and charming mask Rose saw.  Never mind she’d always had a gut instinct about her.  Sparring with Missy tonight?  No thank you.

Her boss narrowed his eyes, but accepted that.  “Fine, suit yourself. The samples should arrive this afternoon, right?  Bring them by on your way home.  Or stop by later tonight for ice cream sundaes; I bought all the favorites.”

Rose laughed.  “You mean I ordered all the ‘favorites’.  You didn’t do shit.”

“The fuck I didn’t!” he protested.  “I gave you a list!  And my credit card.”

“You’re going to be late.  Get lost,” she ordered, pointing towards the lift.  “I have a lot of work to do, and can’t until you’re gone.  Now shoo.”

“Yes ma’am,” Malcolm mocked, saluting as he backed away.  “As you wish. Have a good night.”

Shaking her head, Rose watched him go until he turned the corner and vanished out of sight, his whistling echoing back to her from the lift bank.

“Blimey, these Tuckers tucker me out!”

And, chortling to herself at the lame pun, she picked up the phone to order her lunch, kicking off her heels in favor of flats.

When the boss is away, the mice will play.

-

Malcolm paced Alex’s office, running his hands over his face and through his hair as he tried to think.  Why would he do this?  What was the point?  “Is this even legal?”

“I’m afraid so,” his old friend said sympathetically, calm and unruffled behind his own desk.  His view out the window wasn’t quite as nice as Malcolm’s, but decent nonetheless, Hyde Park in the distance.  “If you don’t meet the requirements within thirty days of today, then you forfeit the estate and it goes to the Government.  Those are the terms of the will.”

“It’s ludicrous,” he argued, settling his hands on his hips and glaring at the lawyer.  “That money should go directly to the foundation!  I don’t even want it!”

It hadn’t been a secret that his uncle was dying; eighty-five and riddled with cancer, it had only been a matter of time. Malcolm and Clara visited him when they could; even Rose had, on occasion, once they’d been forced to move him to a home, a live-in nurse no longer sufficient.  Apparently, she made quite the impression.  As his only heir, and the administrator of the charity Wallace had set up fifty years earlier, The Thistle Foundation, Malcolm had reasonably expected to be the beneficiary of the estate.  What he hadn’t expected were the strings.  What’re you trying to pull, old man?

“What do I do?”

“Talk to her?” Alex suggested unhelpfully.  “What could it hurt?”

Malcolm threw him a nasty look, before resuming his pacing.  “I can’t do that.  Could I- No.  Shit.”  For a moment, just a moment, he tried to picture that conversation.  Every scenario ended with her either laughing, quitting, or slapping him and then quitting.  “Rose- I can’t lose her,” he confessed, a bit more honestly than he intended.  “I mean- she’s a brilliant assistant.  I don’t have the time or patience to train a new one.”

“All your funding comes from the estate, doesn’t it?” Alex asked quietly, and the horrifying implications of that were enough to make Malcolm sink into a chair.

“Yeah.”  If the estate goes to the government, so does all the money.  The Foundation would dry up in six months, maybe less.  Only thirty percent of our funding comes from outside sources, and Vitex and the Tylers are half of that alone.  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice,” the other man shrugged, “but practically speaking, no, you don’t.  Not if you don’t want to have to go job hunting, or worse, woo new investors.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What’s the timing on this?”

“You have thirty days from today to sign on the dotted line, and need to give notice two weeks before that.  So you need to decide if you’re going to… meet the terms, then you have to do that no later than then days from tomorrow, just to be safe.”

Malcolm hung his head in his hands, wondering if he dared broach the subject with Clara first.  Maybe she can tell Rose?  “And how long-”

“Five years.”

“For fuck’s sake, Alex!”

His friend snorted, coming around the desk to pat his shoulder comfortably.  “I didn’t write the will, you know.  Look, take a few days, think it over, then we can talk again.  All right?”

“Yeah.”  Checking his watch, he realized if he didn’t leave then, he would be late for dinner.  “I’ve got plans with my daughter, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon.”

Trudging out of the office and down to his waiting car, Malcolm lost himself in his thoughts.

What am I going to do?

[jsehq]

HOLLAR it’s ya girl cj, trash for reality tv, rolling up fashionably late bc i was at work all day oops but just wanted to let y’all know how stoked i am to get this going !!! below is a mess of info i slapped together about my boy jesse so enjoy & feel free to hmu / smash that lil heart if you’d like to plot ! 

❛ dacre montgomery, 24, he/him ❜ jesse wilson just got off the ferry! the heteroflexible cismale is supposedly cheeky and rowdy, but who knows if that’s true. i heard they are into d/s + exhibitionism. they are currently coupled up with rosemary kingsley in cabin 5.

inspiration: stephen bear ( the challenge ), dr will kirby ( big brother )

okay so homeboy is a  playboy  and has had it pretty easy his entire life. his dad works relentlessly as chief of neurosurgery in lower manhattan and his step-mom had worked as a prestigious legal practitioner; one of the most sought out lawyers in the state, and later, a socialite. like the infamous philosopher dr justin roberts once said: “six figures, i was only four”, jesse was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. while most would assume he’s a straight up trust fund punk, though, he inherited his father’s impeccable work ethic to a fault.

as an only child and therefore sole heir to the wilson estate, his parents have been on jesse’s ass his entire life to give his absolute best in everything he does. health, school, sports, friendships, relationships, the whole nine yards. his marks were always near the top of his class, he excelled at his two favourite sports; hockey during the winter, baseball during the summer. but it wasn’t until he hit his mid adolescent years, started developing an interest in girls ( whom he once thought were riddled with cooties ), that his focus faltered a wee bit and good lil jesse started being a teenager.

embracing his lavish lifestyle and all the popularity / opportunities it handed him on a silver platter basically, jesse was ho-ing himself around, partying it up with the elite crowd, earning himself a pretty risque rep among his peers. it wasn’t until he met his first actual serious girlfriend that he did his best to tone it tf down. and it worked, for awhile. but !! of course he fucked it all up and even though what’s done is done, he has big regrets. BIG regrets. mainly bc girl went absolutely wild and took a baseball bat to the ferrari his parents had waiting for him for his 16th birthday yikes.

after graduating high school with exemplary marks, instead of taking the opportunity to potentially thrive in the big leagues of the sports world, jesse opted to stick to his roots, following in his dad’s footsteps. he got accepted into nyu as a pre-med student, studying all the biological sciences, and just finished his senior year last spring. his next big plan is to attend harvard to earn his medical degree and get the ball rollin.

in the meantime though, he caught wind of this dream vacation with a bunch of hotties and a cash prize, and obviously jesse was all over it. all he wants to do is have fun and maybe make some of his own $$$ separate from his family’s fortune, buT......... he also isn’t opposed to potentially finding a gal that can keep his interest for longer than a week sdhufgjkdf 

as for personality, jesse is naturally loud af like…. he just has that thunderous voice that projects half a mile, and he likes to joke a lot about anything / everything so his laugh is even worse lmao. kind of a little shit tbh.. he’s all about entertaining / keeping shit interesting, so will probably annoy a few people oop. he’s a rowdy type, loves to party / have fun. will never turn down a drink. get blackout drunk the night before & turn around and be one of the first ones up the next morning, cooking up something greasy to fight off all the hangovers. a natural flirt, he loves giving & receiving attention so much that it’s probably his number one fault bc he can’t just behave / commit himself to one person, he likes having his fun whenever / wherever he wants it with whoever he wants it with, without worrying about upsetting a significant other. long story short he hates the thought of commitment but he loves the thought of romance lmao he’s a MESS bro. 

[mvlcnes]

hey what’s good hunnies, i’m rollin up late but uh !!  my name’s maia, 25 y/o living it up it up in the ast part of the world and uh listen i don’t have discord bc i’m a literal grandma when it comes to keeping up with all the new means of being social lmao so if you would like to chat and/or plot?? just shoot me an im on here — i’m usually always mobile & i obviously love to talk a lot !  and i’m a heaux for dramatic / angst-fuelled plots .. just a little fyi … i’m excited !! so anyway !!!  onto the Idiot of the Hour you’re actually here to read about; my darling malone. i have a pinterest board for him  HERE  , a playlist for him  HERE  , his stats page set up  HERE  , and a connections page  HERE  which as you can see is bare as all hell so let’s plot !

i think i just saw  MALONE SINCLAIR  looking down at their phone in the middle of lecture hall . i wonder if they think that will help them get through their  BIOLOGY  major . i’m sure professor baker doesn’t mind , though , especially since  MAL  can be so  + BODACIOUS . then again ,  HE  can be a little  - EVASIVE , so maybe prof b will mind after all . what do you think is catching their attention all of a sudden ? surely it can’t be more pictures of  LUXURY CARS . hey , you know , sometimes they really remind me of  BOYISH CHARM AMPLIFIED BY A ROGUISH GRIN, SPARSELY SCARRED FINGERS CLAD IN GOLD RINGS, THE LINGERING SCENT OF CLIVE CHRISTIAN NO. 1 , but maybe that’s just me . oh well . i hope their  FOURTH  year is treating them well !

INSPIRATIONS

chad radwell ( scream queens ) 

chuck bass ( gossip girl )

reggie mantle ( riverdale / comics )

sebastian valmont ( cruel intentions )

BACKSTORY

okay so homeboy here has had it pretty easy his entire life. his dad works relentlessly as chief of neurosurgery in lower manhattan and his step-mom had worked as a prestigious legal practitioner; one of the most sought out lawyers in the state, and later, a socialite. like the infamous philosopher dr justin roberts once said: “six figures, i was only four”, malone was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. while most would assume he’s a straight up trust fund punk, though, he inherited his father’s impeccable work ethic to a fault.

as an only child and therefore sole heir to the sinclair estate, his parents have been on mal’s ass his entire life to give his absolute best in everything he does. health, school, sports, friendships, relationships, the whole shebang. his marks were always near the top of his class, he excelled at his two favourite sports; hockey during the winter, baseball during the summer. but it wasn’t until he hit his mid adolescent years, started developing an interest in girls ( whom he once thought were riddled with cooties ), that his focus faltered a wee bit and good lil o’malley boy started being a teenager.

embracing his lavish lifestyle and all the popularity / opportunities it handed him on a silver platter basically, mal was ho-ing himself around, partying it up with the elite crowd, earning himself a pretty risque rep among his peers. it wasn’t until he met his first actual serious girlfriend that he did his best to tone it tf down. and it worked, for awhile. but !! of course he fucked it all up and even though what’s done is done, he has big regrets. BIG regrets. mainly bc girl went absolutely wild and took a baseball bat to his ferrari yikes.

after graduating high school with exemplary marks, instead of taking the opportunity to potentially thrive in the big leagues of the sports world, malone opted to stick to his roots, following in his dad’s footsteps. he got accepted into powell as a pre-med student, studying all the biological sciences, and is finally finishing off his last year as a bonafide senior. his next big plan is to attend harvard to earn his medical degree and get the ball rollin.

FUN FACTS

pitcher for the university’s baseball team, his absolute favourite hobby

future doc in the works, he’s proudly maintaining a 4.0 gpa

distinguishing labels: the casanova, the playboy, the philanthropist

money is no object to him. will relentlessly spoil his current conquests

the second a girl tries to get serious, he ghosts & moves onto the next

fancy social events are his element but he also loves letting loose 

big partier. has gotten mixed up in cocaine & hard liquor many times

his family own several luxury cars, a yacht, have their own private jet

contributes to charitable causes 24/7 but he’s a lowkey narcissist oops 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

1) ok so uh he obviously needs his boy(s), 1 or 2 who he’s pretty close with. they travelled together, were each others’ wingmen at one time or another, always have each others’ backs through thick & thin. 

2) he need him some fwb / hook up type deals, whether they be a regular occurrence or a one time thing. if you’re bored with your man or need help getting back at an ex? that’s his specialty hit him up. 

3) while on that note, maybe a fella who’s shown interest in him & mal’s hit on them while drunk?? nothing too serious, just a lil harmless curiosity. maybe they kissed / made out on a dare or some shit at a wild frat party.

4) ex gfs!! i don’t see him having like… a fuckton of exes bc he tries to stay away from relationships but probably anywhere between 1-3?? whether they be on good terms, bad terms, lingering feelings, etc. i’m cool with whatever. 

5) maybe somebody he tutored?? bc while he gives off mad Big Dick energy and tends to think with that head lmao, mal is actually very intelligent. 

6) how about some enemies tho. like… idk man i’m SURE there are ppl he rubs the wrong way bc he’s kind of narcissistic lmao. or maybe they think he’s fake. or maybe there’s some sports rivalry or classic case of polar opposites or he broke ur bff’s heart?? the possibilities are endless.

[chasholidays]

OKAY. I drove past a roadside fruit stand at the beach labeled "Bellamy Farms" last month and immediately thought of you. Would love a beach romance with hot farmer Bellamy and hippie artist Clarke (could be holiday themed, or not!) 5-10,000 words, obviously with a meet cute & falling in love over veg. Perhaps with some Kabby and Linctavia on the side if it pleases you. TY for this gift!

oops there’s not really a meet cute here sometimes that is how the cookie crumbles etc

When Clarke Griffin is nineteen, her father dies and she drops out of college to move to the beach and become an artist.

It’s not, admittedly, the best reaction, but it’s not as if most people have a good reaction to parental death. Clarke has always done everything right, had been so sure that if she was a good kid who followed rules her life would be good. And then her dad died anyway and college is just moreschool, except that she can’t fit art classes in with her premed course load, which she doesn’t even want, and her father is dead and her mother was somehow involved in his death.

So she packs all her stuff into her car and drives down the east coast with the windows rolled down and music blaring and squats in her dad’s empty beach house for a couple of weeks, drinking cheap booze and generally feeling sorry for herself.

And then, finally, she looks around.

The beach house had been a staple of childhood summers, but it’s late fall now, the off-season, and that’s a new experience for her. It has the feel of being in a mall after closing time, or at a big event doing set up. It’s a secret place, a dress rehearsal, and being a part of that sends a thrill through her.

This is where she wants to be. This is where she belongs.

Abby is frantic when she picks up the phone. “Clarke? Where are you? Where have you been?”

“I’m in South Carolina,” she says. “And I’m going to stay here.”

“What do you mean?”

Clarke leans back. “I want the beach house, and I want however much money Dad left me, and then I won’t tell anyone what I think you had to do with him dying.”

There’s a long pause. “Clarke, you don’t have to blackmail me. And it’s not what you think. What happened to your father was–”

“A tragic accident,” she supplies. Abby said it enough. “I know. I don’t care. I’m not going back to school, I’m not coming back home. I just want the beach house and my inheritance and I’ll be set.”

“Set at what?”

It’s a good question. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

It’s not true, exactly; Clarke can’t imagine casually checking in with her mother for a long time. But Abby will probably call her back, and Clarke won’t lie to her if she’s got a plan.

All she needs is to get a plan.

The town of Arcadia, South Carolina is cute, like something out of a picture book. It’s not the actual beach town, but instead the closest inland town that people come to for non-beach reasons, and therefore the place Clarke might be able to find a job that doesn’t involve working at a restaurant, hotel, or tourist trap.

Granted, it mostly adds antique store, clothing boutique, and art gallery to her options, but all of those seem more in line with her skill set. She likes antiques and art, and she wears clothes.

She ends up getting hired at an upscale shop that sells a variety of goods made by local artists, from pottery to clothing to salvaged beach sculptures. It’s the kind of place that makes people think “this doesn’t look that hard” when they see the prices, and Clarke is no exception. She can’t sew and she doesn’t have access to clay, but she lives on the beach. She could definitely make weird seashell art.

But to her surprise, not only can she make weird seashell art, she likes it and is good at it. Commercial pieces are easy: charms to string on jewelry, small mosaics of sea creatures, just little things to remind tourists of their trips. But there are so many more things she can do, driftwood and sea glass twisting together into broad, conceptual pieces, the kind of stuff galleries might actually want someday.

It’s not a fast process, of course, but the years bleed by easily. The art community around Arcadia isn’t exactly thriving like it would be in a city, but it’s active and passionate, and Clarke slots in like she’s always been there. She dates Lincoln, the sculptor who looks like a bodybuilder, for about half a second before they decide to be friends, then Finn, an artist with a metalworker girlfriend who didn’t know he was seeing someone else, and then Lexa, who has dreams of moving to the city and making it big.

“Which city?” Clarke asks, amused.

“Does it matter? As long as I get out of here.”

The two of them stay together for a while after that, but that’s the moment Clarke knows they’re ultimately doomed. She’s twenty-four, years removes from the complete meltdown that had brought her to South Carolina in the first place, but she’s never had any desire to return to the life her mother had wanted for her. It’s a privilege, she knows, that she can afford to be out here, living in a beach-house year round, working as an artist who doesn’t actually make quite enough to support herself, but she has that privilege. She can afford to have the life she wants, and this is it.

She and Lexa make it another year, and then Lexa goes to Raleigh and Clarke makes a driftwood statue called “September Departure” in her honor.

After that, she can’t help feeling like maybe romance isn’t in the cards, like she might be out of options.

Both Lincoln and Raven tell her she’s being ridiculous.

“That’s the breakup talking,” Raven says. “It always feels like love is dead or some dramatic shit, but that doesn’t last forever.”

“I just feel like I’ve exhausted the local options,” Clarke says, with a sigh. “I’m running out of people to date.”

“And new people do move in,” Lincoln points out. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but the population here isn’t static. Good things could be coming.”

It feels like a prophesy, and Clarke is all primed and ready for it to come true, for Lincoln to have set her up for a meet cute with some new residents some unknown good thing.

Which means, of course, that she completely misses the good thing when she nearly walks right into it.

It’s the first farmer’s market of the summer season and Clarke is setting up. She and Lincoln have a booth together, selling their various works of art, and this is always the most stressful week. It’s the week Clarke is convinced that somehow the tourists won’t come, or won’t like beach trinkets anymore, that something will go wrong and she’ll have to admit this isn’t a real life and go back to her mother. It’s not rational that she puts so much emphasis on the opening week, especially since tourist migrations tend to vary from year-to-year, but if it was rational, it wouldn’t be a superstition.

The Blake Farm booth catches her eye because, despite what Lincoln said, new booths really aren’t that common, and a new farm is noteworthy. Especially the name, Blake Farm, which nags at her brain hard enough she actually walks into Bellamy in her distraction.

“Jesus, princess, can’t you watch where you’re going?” he grumbles. He’s carrying a large basket full of produce, so she can’t really blame him for being annoyed, but she and Bellamy also snipe at each other basically every time they come into contact, so she doubts he’d be any less short if he was empty-handed.

Her brain snaps the pieces together a second after she sees him: Bellamy Blake. Blake Farm.

“Holy shit, did you finally get your own place?”

He ducks his head, not enough to hide the pleased smile on his face. Clarke doesn’t actually hate Bellamy, not really, but it feels as if they’re perpetually on the wrong foot, as if they’re always about to get into a fight whether they want to or not. Getting into fights is just how the two of them communicate.

“Did you not hear about that?”

“I was wondering why you dropped off the face of the earth, but I thought maybe wishes really did come true.”

He snorts. “Dream on, you’re never getting rid of me.”

“Seriously, when did this happen? What happened?”

“Come to the booth if you want me to talk to you, I need to set up.”

Clarke follows him, taking in the produce already on display with a more curious eye, now that she knows it’s Bellamy’s. He’s been a regular face at the farmer’s market for as long as Clarke’s been here, but always selling for Pike’s Produce, the farm where he’s worked for since it was legal for him to work. Clarke knew he wanted a place of his own, but he also knew that it was, in his words, a stupid dream. He was better off not owning, so long as Charles paid him a good wage.

“You remember Miller?”

“Your ex Miller?” she asks, frowning. Bellamy is a couple years older than she is, but still roughly in her demographic, and while he runs with a different crowd than she does, there are only so many places to hang out. When she goes out on Saturday night, she goes to the bar where his little sister works, and he’s usually there too. He’s unavoidable.

“Yeah. He moved to Charleston to start a restaurant with his internet boyfriend.”

“I did hear about that.”

Bellamy hefts a basket up onto the table and Clarke tries not to notice the flex of his muscles. He’s in good shape. That’s just an objective fact. “I was always worried that if I started my own place, I wouldn’t have enough of a customer base to stay open. Most of the local places already have their suppliers, and I didn’t know if I could do enough business on my own. But farm-to-table is really big right now, so Miller and I went in together. He tells me what he needs, I grow it. Charles is doing his meat and dairy too, so he’s not even mad at me for leaving. He always wanted me to be able to make it on my own.”

“That’s amazing,” says Clarke, meaning it. “So you’re selling what Miller doesn’t need?”

“Yeah. It could still blow up in our faces,” he adds, shrugging. “Maybe we’ve got enough dudes selling over-priced produce here, but I figure I might as well try. If I crash and burn, I’m pretty sure Charles will take me back.”

She has to smile. “You can be a little excited. It’s exciting. Don’t jump straight to what could go wrong.”

“Thats rich, coming from you. You’re convinced if you don’t sell enough dolphin moasiacs by noon your entire business is in jeopardy.”

He’s not wrong. “So I’m speaking from experience. Don’t be like me, Bellamy.”

“Trying not to be.”

She smiles; the retort is automatic, and it’s kind of cute. Just a little. “So, any recommendations?”

“For what, exactly?”

“Something I can buy from you that will taste good that doesn’t require cooking.”

“The cherry tomatoes are pretty good. Sweet. I just eat them like candy.”

Clarke examines the cartons, arranged in neat lines on the table and overflowing with bright red fruit. Bellamy picks up a tomato and offers it to her, and when she pops it into her mouth and bites down, it feels like sunshine exploding into her mouth.

“That’s amazing.”

He looks smug, but she can see the pride lurking behind his eyes. “I know.”

“I’ll take two cartons.”

“My first customer,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Definitely not your last.”

She takes the tomatoes back to her own table and finds a piece of paper, writes Try a Blake Farm tomato!! on it and tapes it to the front of the tablecloth, next to the display of rings.

Lincoln does a double take when he sees it, then shakes his head. “So, that’s still happening.”

“They’re good tomatoes.”

“I’m sure they are.”

*

“So, you like wood, right?”

Clarke blinks at Bellamy, who’s come to lean against the bar next to her. His sister, who’s behind the bar working on Clarke’s drink, doesn’t look any more impressed with the statement than Clarke is.

“Your pickup lines need some serious work, Bell.”

“It’s not a pickup line, O,” he shoots back, and then returns his attention to Clarke. “Do you know where the farm is?”

“Not really.” It’s been about a month since she found out Bellamy’s farm existed and she’s gotten almost no new information about it since then. “I tried googling you, but your web presence needs work.”

“I know, Miller’s boyfriend is working on it. It’s not like there’s much to see yet.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I got the old Sinclair place, and they had some trees I needed to clear out. I know it’s not driftwood, but I thought you might want to take a look and see if you could use anything.”

The offer is both completely logical and totally unexpected, one of those things that’s good for both of them but still, well, Bellamy helping her out. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.

“I could definitely come look,” she says. “Lincoln might want some too.”

“Yeah, you can bring him,” Bellamy says, with a shrug. “Maybe when O is around.”

To Clarke’s surprise, Octavia goes beet red, the most embarrassed Clarke has ever seen her. She’s probably a bit young for Lincoln, in an absolute sense, but she’s twenty-three and more than capable of making her own choices, and the two of them might actually be good together. Lincoln’s been single for a while.

“Shut up, Bell.”

“Are you helping out on the farm, Octavia?” Clarke asks, mostly in the hopes that ignoring the Lincoln thing will put Octavia at ease and let her get more information about it later, when her guard is down. Or from Bellamy.

“I’m living there since Bell sold our old place, and he says I can either help out or pay rent, so I’m helping out.”

“Which is a way better deal for you than it is for me.”

“You say that now, but someday I’m going to move out and you’re going to be so sad you have to actually hire people.”

“I’m definitely going to be sad when I have to deal with staff, yeah. You don’t have to come look at the wood,” he adds, to Clarke. “I can just get rid of it. But I figured I’d check in with you first.”

“No, that would be great. I like doing beach stuff but I’ve been thinking of branching out, and this might be a good way to start.”

“No pun intended?” he teases, and at her blank look, elaborates, “Branching out? Because it’s a tree.”

Octavia groans. “Jesus, Bell.”

“Definitely no pun intended,” she says, trying and failing to not be endeared. Bellamy is not only really attractive, but he’s also got this aura of coolness, so it took Clarke to realize that, under all that, he’s a hopeless dork.

She likes him a lot better now that she knows that.

Bellamy rubs the back of his neck, which doesn’t help her situation. “Well, uh, do you have my number? Since our web presence sucks.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Give me your phone and I’ll put it in for you.”

“If this was you picking her up it would be pretty smooth,” Octavia observes, probably vengeance for the Lincoln comment. Clarke can never decide if stuff like that makes her happy or sad to be an only child, but it definitely makes her aware of being an only child.

Of course, as soon as she tells Lincoln about this, he’s definitely going to start dropping hints that it Means Something, so maybe this isn’t an experience she’s totally missed out on. Friends can be nosy assholes too.

Still, it’s a good offer, and one she’s interested in, so she hands over her phone and lets Bellamy give her his number, texts him back so he has hers too.

After almost six years of knowing each other, they can finally get in touch if the need to. There’s a milestone.

“Bellamy has some lumber he thinks we might want,” she tells Lincoln, when she gets back to their table.

“Huh,” says Raven, “I thought he was just hitting on you.”

“Nope, definitely not.” It’s safe to say that now, when he can’t hear. “He just wanted to give us first dibs on supplies.”

“Which is lumber?”

“Yeah, whatever he cut down on the farm to make room for–whatever else he wants on the farm. I said we’d go out there some afternoon soon to check it out.”

“Sorry, you’re going to Bellamy’s farm to check out his wood?” Raven asks. “Just to summarize.”

“With Lincoln.”

“You act like that helps, but Lincoln’s bi too. You’re both into Bellamy’s wood.”

“We’re not sure we’re into Bellamy’s wood,” Lincoln corrects. “That’s why we’re going to the farm. To examine the wood and see if we want it.”

“I can’t wait until he starts growing carrots and cucumbers, this will never get old,” Clarke remarks, dry, but Raven actually looks at her hard.

“Seriously, how come you’ve never gone for Bellamy?”

“I didn’t want hooking up with guys you’ve already slept with to be a thing of mine.” It’s only half a joke. “Come on, half of our conversations end in fights, how would we date?”

“You seem to be getting along pretty well these days,” Lincoln says.

“That’s because he’s been busy with the farm he didn’t even tell me he bought.”

“He didn’t tell me either,” says Raven. “I just knew because Mr. Sinclair mentioned it last time I saw him. I didn’t know you guys didn’t know, I figured it was common knowledge.”

“Octavia told me, but she swore me to secrecy,” Lincoln puts in. “I think he was trying to keep it quiet in case something went wrong. Luna said the sign wasn’t even up until after he went to the farmer’s market.”

It makes Clarke feel a little better, which in turn makes her feel worse, because she doesn’t want to have any feelings about Bellamy, or his farm, or his life in general. She has no interest in justifying why she’s never dated him because the whole premise is flawed. She couldn’t date Bellamy even if she did want to. It’s not a thing.

“I just don’t think he’s my type,” she finally says. “Obviously he’s hot, don’t get me wrong. But that’s not enough. I dated Lincoln because he was hot and look how that turned out.”

“We broke up amicably and now we’re best friends,” Lincoln says, dry. “How awful.”

She has to smile. “You know what I mean.”

Neither of them agrees, but they shut up about it. She’ll take it.

*

Lincoln texts an hour before they’re supposed to go out to the farm to say something came up, so he’ll just go out on his own later. Clarke wants to call it out as the bullshit it so clearly is, but that’s not actually a productive use of her time. She still has to go see Bellamy, unless she cancels too, and then it’s a whole thing.

She can just go check out Bellamy’s wood on her own. No big deal.

Before this, Clarke had known that Mr. Sinclair had died and left the farm to his son–also Mr. Sinclair–who taught physics and autoshop at the high school, which was why he was friends with Raven, who was definitely the star pupil in both classes. Mr. Sinclair the younger had a house of his own and no desire to keep up a property the size of the family farm, even if it hadn’t been a working farm for many years. It’s not the largest property in the area, but it’s well located and well maintained, probably perfect for a young farmer just starting out.

It’s also not on any of Clarke’s regular routes, so she hasn’t seen it in a while. If anyone had asked her, she would have said it was still on the market, but it’s not like she was paying much attention. And even though she came here at nineteen, she’s aware of not being a native. She doesn’t have the complicated network of contacts most people do, especially since the beach house is kind of isolated, away from where most of the actual residents live. She’s alone a lot, and she doesn’t mind, but driving past the new Blake Farm, this place she didn’t even know about, she can’t help regretting it.

She doesn’t know what she would have done if she knew about this sooner, but she wishes she’d had the option to try doing it.

There’s no one in sight when she parks, so she just gets to wander around, looking at the barn, the house, the rows of crops. She wouldn’t have been able to describe what it looked like before, but she knows it looks better now, the fields full and green, the house repainted, everything bright and clean and new.

“Hey,” says Bellamy, jolting her attention from the rows of tomatoes. “Sorry, I heard you come in but I was in the barn.”

She turns and it actually takes her a second to recover from just seeing him. Bellamy is always attractive, obviously and easily, a fact of life. Bellamy looks good; that’s how it is. But he’s usually a kind of buttoned-up guy, especially for someone who ostensibly lives on the beach. He rocks this kind of nerdy professor look, and it’s jarring to see him in jeans and a tank top, a bandanna pushing his hair off his forehead. The only thing missing is his glasses, which would definitely complete the look for her, but she assumes they’re not practical.

And, honestly, she probably couldn’t deal with all of that. It’s just as well he doesn’t have the glasses on top of his huge arms and broad chest and freckles popping off of his skin.

She shakes herself out of it. “No problem. I was just looking around. Lincoln had to cancel,” she adds. “He got a lead on some material he wanted up in North Carolina. So it’s just me.”

“Cool. You want the tour?”

“Sure.”

He shrugs on a light flannel shirt, which pretty much confirms that he’s not going to get less hot during this visit. His shoulders are covered, but he looks like the cover of a romance novel with the unbuttoned flannel and glistening skin. “Okay, so–the barn. I don’t actually need the barn.”

“No?”

“No animals yet.”

“Right, you said Pike was doing the animal produce.”

He nods, holding the barn door open for her. “This is my office for now, until I figure out if I can afford to keep livestock. I just want to grab keys and my glasses, and then I’ll take you around the fields and to the lumber.”

Clarke doesn’t jump him when he finds the glasses, but it’s a close thing. She wouldn’t have said she was avoiding Bellamy, but she’s seen more of him in the last couple weeks since he got the farm than she probably has in the last year before this, and the high concentration of interaction is a lot. Especially since they’ve been getting along.

She should pick a fight, just to remind herself why a literal roll in the hay isn’t an option.

Instead, she just lets him drive her around the farm, explaining what he’s doing now and what he’s still planning to do, pointing out crops that are coming in, doing well, doing poorly, rattling off names of weird hipster vegetables Clarke’s never even heard of.

“You really love this, huh,” she observes.

He glances over at her. “And?”

“It’s just nice. I know a lot of people feel kind of stuck here, like Lexa did. I’m glad this is where you want to be.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind if I left town.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“You too.” He clears his throat. “I honestly never thought you’d stick around. I remember when you showed up and it just felt like–”

“Rich girl burnout?”

“No offense.”

“None taken. If I wasn’t a spoiled rich girl, I probably wouldn’t be here. I couldn’t have afforded to throw everything away. But–” She huffs. “This is going to make me sound like an asshole.”

“I already think you’re an asshole, so go ahead.”

His voice is warm, and she smiles. “I think I needed to be away from pressure. School was just–I was the top of my class, always, because if I wasn’t then I thought I was losing. And I think I would have burned myself out and made myself miserable. It was already starting to happen in college, when I wasn’t the biggest fish in the pond anymore. If I wasn’t the best, I didn’t know what to be.”

“So you’re the biggest fish out here?” He doesn’t sound offended.

“No, I got out of the pond. I’m a total failure judged by any of the standards I used to have, but I’m happy.”

He laughs. “Okay, yeah. I can see how that would make you sound like an asshole. But it’s nice having you here. And it’s not as if you’re not successful. Your art actually sells. I’m pretty sure Lexa’s going to be back with her tail between her legs in a couple years, but if you wanted to leave–”

“I don’t think I could make stuff like this if I left,” she admits. “I think I need to be out here.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen anyone capture the ocean like you do, it’s amazing.” Before Clarke quite has time to process that–Bellamy has seen her art, Bellamy has opinions on her art, Bellamy thinks her art is amazing–he coughs, this awkward clearing of his throat like he realizes it’s kind of a lot too. “This place is clearly good for you.”

He’s not the first person to say it, or something like it. But it means something else, coming from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “I like to think so.”

*

Clarke doesn’t set out to make the branches she took from Bellamy into any kind of gesture or statement. She picked the pieces she liked, these gnarled branches she thinks she can work with, leaves she could preserve in some way, maybe. Bellamy hauled them into his truck, drove her back to her car, and helped her load them, and Clarke left feeling only a little at loose ends.

But as soon as she’s home and really looking at the pieces, all she can see is him. These aren’t old, dried out logs, carried to her by the sea from god knows where. These are Bellamy’s trees from Bellamy’s farm, and when she looks at them, she can’t imagine turning them into anything but what they already are: Blake Farm and Bellamy, his dream finally come true.

So she runs with it. It’s not as abstract as some of her pieces, but Clarke’s past the point in her life where she thinks inscrutability is artistically superior in and of itself. She makes the pieces she wants to make, and it’s easy to just fall into making this one. Clarke goes into a kind of trance when she’s inspired, really inspired; she can make a big, impressive piece more quickly than a bunch of her tourist souvenirs, for all they’re easier, just because she wants the real piece so much more.

She finishes off the Blake Farm piece the morning of the farmer’s market, which is kind of a mixed blessing. Because it is for Bellamy, wholly and undeniably. She couldn’t give it to the boutique to sell or try to get it put on display anywhere, but it feels just as impossible to go up to him and tell him she made him a gift. He’d given her the wood without any expectation of getting it back, and she doesn’t know how to tell him he inspired her without it being a big deal. Because it is a big deal, at least to her.

She’s definitely kind of in love with him. It’s probably been a long time coming.

Lincoln texts her to ask where she is while she’s loading the thing into her car, and she says she’s on her way, but he can take as much of the table as he wants. It’s probably going to be a couple minutes, one way or another.

Clarke usually visits Bellamy’s stall before the market has opened. She picks up some berries or tomatoes to put on her table, since free stuff gets people’s attention, and then she doesn’t see him again until the end of the market. It’s easier than leaving her stuff unattended and fighting her way through crowds, and it feels more causal too. She’s not going out of her way.

Which means this is her first time actually seeing him in action, Octavia at his side, one of her own mosaics on display on the corner of his table with a sign directing fans to her table.

Apparently they’ve got a weird thing going, and she didn’t even realize.

“I didn’t know you were doing advertising for me,” she tells Bellamy. He’s looking at his phone, so he missed her coming in, the ideal scenario. She should be able to get out what she wanted to say.

He startles but recovers, smiling a little. “You’re advertising for me, I figured I should return the favor.” He clears his throat. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it. Thought you might be sick.”

“I don’t think I’m selling. But I could use your help with something, if your sister can watch your booth for a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. O, I’ll be back.”

He probably won’t think it’s weird. They’re his branches, it only makes sense that his farm would inspire her. He might try to pay her. He might not even like it. But I made a mosaic of your farm with your branches as a frame isn’t really an unambiguous gesture, and if she plays it cool, he might not even realize it’s a thing. This is what artists do, right? Totally normal.

“I figured you’d want to see what I did with the stuff I got from you.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback. “You already used it?”

“I was inspired.” She opens up the back of the car, not letting herself ask him to close his eyes or making it a big presentation, but she doesn’t have to. Bellamy stops dead, staring, and Clarke tries to see it through his eyes, the sea glass and shells, the leaves coated to keep them fresh, the branches surrounding a scene of blues and greens and golds.

His farm, rendered in whatever made her think of him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted it, I thought I should give you first dibs, but–”

He kisses her, this quick shock of contact that just lasts a second before he seems to realize what he’s done and he pulls back, eyes wide behind his glasses. He really is, well–Bellamy. A constant background presence in her life that she wants to make much more prominent.

Someone she’s, somehow, very fond of.

“Sorry,” he says, searching her face like he’s trying to figure out if he should be saying that. “It seemed like the right response.”

Clarke winds her arms around his neck. “It was,” she says, and kisses him again.

They don’t make it back to their stalls for a long time.

*

When Clarke Griffin is twenty-six, her boyfriend proposes and she leaves her beach house to move to his farm instead. They convert the barn into a studio and she spends her mornings helping on the farms, her afternoons working on her art, and her nights with Bellamy, always with Bellamy.

It’s not the life she imagined, when she was young, or even when she came to Arcadia for the first time. But somehow, it’s exactly what she wanted.

[soflsms]

   ( sorry  I'm  late  to  the  party  im  in  pst  so  i  was  at  work  til  now  sdkfjl )  ANYWHO  hi  pals  what  the  h*ck  is  up  !!  im  chloe  ,  im  21  ,  i  use  she / her  pronouns  &  im  a  broke  a$$  geography  major  !!   i  am  SO  excited  to  be  her  &  get  to  rp  with  all  y’all  bc  judging  by  your  apps  skdflj  i  fuck  with  u  all  .  anywho  ill  stop  my  rambling  ,  below  the  readmore  is  stuff  about  sofie  &  some  wcs !!  

trigger  warning  !!  sex  work  ,  deportation  ,  neglect  ,  bad  writing  ,  alcoholism  &  substance  abuse

HAILEY BALDWIN  /  SHE/HER  /  TWENTY TWO  /  BILLIE EILISH VC

welcome to los angeles , sofie almeda ! the glitterati has been watching you . rumour has it you made your first mark in the industry two years ago & that your net worth currently stands at  8m . it seems as though you’re enjoying being a  singer since relocating from  harlem , new york city . some might say you’d be a good fit for the glitterati due to your hollywood ranking being a solid  #3, & it helps that fans speak so highly of your  individualistic & assiduous ways . unfortunately , our sources cite that those closest to you aren’t particularly impressed with your  self-destructive & choleric tendencies .

stats

name  :   sofie sydney almeda

nicknames  :   sof

age  :  twenty - two  .

birthday  :  december  eleventh  .

zodiac  :  sagittarius  .

gender  :  cisfemale  (  though  doesn’t  vibe  with  the  idea  of  being  STRICTLY  a  WoMaN  ,  she  finds  labels  restrictive  )  .

pronouns  :  she    &    her  .

height  :  5 ′ 6 ″  .

hometown  :    recife  ,  brazil  &  harlem  ,  new  york  city  .

nationality  :  american  ,  brazilian  .

ethnicity  :  english  ,  portuguese   .

label(s)  :  the  venereal  ,  the  bellwether  ,  the  opulent  ,   the  anaxiphile   .

occupation  :  singer  (  vc  billie  eilish  )  .  

quirks  :  fidgeting  ,  allergic  to  shellfish  ,  walks  quickly  ,  cracks  knuckles  ,  always  wears  her  lucky  ‘  st  christopher  ’  necklace  from  her  grandmother  ,  has  a  weird  ability  to  talk  herself  out  of  trouble  ,  can  tie  a  cherry  stem  in  her  mouth  ,  messy  emotionally  but  on - point  physically  ,  vvv  bad  driver  ,  loves  a  good  theme  party  ,  can’t  get  through  the  day  without  multiple  cups  of  coffee  ,  refuses  to  wear  glasses  in  public  even  though  she’s  quite  far - sighted  ,  always  carries  hand  sanitizer ,  prefers  rain  over  sunshine  .

background

         her  mother  ,  marcia  almeda  ,  was  a  recent  graduate  from  secondary  school  who  packed  a  backpack  and  went  traveling !! before  long  tho  she  ended  up  knocked  up  by  another  backpacker  ,  this  one  american  ,  while  they  were  having  a  fling  in  sydney  (  hence  sofie’s  middle  name  lmao  @  her  mom’s  humor  )  .  she  flew  back  home  when  she  found  out  &  never  told  sofie’s  father  oops !! so  marcia  had  sofie  at  home  in  recife  just  before  her  nineteenth  birthday  ,  and  marcia  was  enthralled  w  little  sofie  .  ofc  she  inherited  her  mother’s  beauty  (  i  hc  marcia  looks  like  alessandra  ambrosio  bc  hello !  )  &  little  sofie  lived  a  happy  early  childhood  life  in  her  grandparents’  home  in  recife.

         brazil  isn’t  the  safest  of  countries  &  marcia  didn’t  want  the  same  dangers  she  experienced  growing  up  for  her  young  daughter  ,  so  around  sofie’s  eighth  birthday  ,  her  &  her  mother  packed  up  and  went  on  a  ‘ trip  ’  to  new  york  city  .  joke’s  on  sofie  ,  though  -  it  wasn’t  actually  a  trip  ,  but  rly  they  were  trying  to  move  there  to  find  sofie’s  father  to  confirm  his  paternity  and  get  sofie  american  citizenship  .  it  was  proving  more  difficult  than  she  thought  ,  &  marcia  was  quickly  running  out  of  money  .  with  a  face  like  hers  ,  though  ,  making  money  wasn’t  too  difficult  ,  but  it  was  time  consuming  .  marcia  found  herself  escorting  older  men  in  order  to  pay  the  bills  ,  all  the  while  leaving  little  sofie  to  fend  for  herself  .  some  of  her  earliest  memories  are  of  strange  men  in  their  tiny  apartment  &  sofie  trying  to  block  out  their  conversations  with  her  lil  cassette  player  hiding  in  the  corner  of  her  room  .  eventually  ,  marcia  was  able  to  contact  the  father  &  they  set  up  a  meeting  .  sofie  had  gotten  her  hopes  up  that  she  would  finally  have  a  dad  (  she  got  dressed  up  in  her  sunday  best  &  everything  bc  reuniting  her  dad  was  a  BIG  deal  ) ,  but  the  meeting  ended  up  being  a  quick  exchange  of  words  ,  a  mouth  swab  and  a  couple  signatures  .  sofie  never  even  learned  his  name  ,  & this  queued  up  a  lifetime  of  daddy  issues  &  distrust  of  men  !!

        while  marcia  was  able  to  stay  in  america  much  longer  than  she  was  legally  supposed  to  ,  eventually  she  was  facing  deportation  ,  which  meant  lil  sofie  ,  with  her  citizenship  finally  confirmed  ,  was  put  into  the  hands  of  her  father  who  sent  off  to  an  american  boarding  school  in  new  york  without  even  contacting  her  .  she  would  spend  the  summers  in  brazil  with  her  mother  or  ,  as  she  got  older  ,  couch - surfing  with  different  friends  throughout  the  months  .  she  started  growing  apart  from  her  mother  as  she  aged  since  she  wasn’t  going  home  every  summer  since  she  didn’t  rly  feel  any  connection  to  brazil  .  her  grandfather  had  passed  away  &  she  only  has  faint  memories  grandmother  ,  plus  the  city  wasn’t  at  all  familiar  to  her  &  she  wasn’t  practicing  her  portuguese  after  her  mother  returned  to  brazil  .

         through  it  all  ,  music  was  proving  to  be  the  one  constant  in  her  life  she  could  use  to  escape  from  reality  .  she  had  never  done  any  training  or  classes  ,  but  she  just  liked  singing  along  to  whatever  was  on  the  radio  & practicing  on  her  own  .  she  also  found  a  passion  for  writing  poetry  which  she  later  would  realize  was  compatible  with  music  .  she  would  spend  HOURS  in  the  school  library  working  on  garage  band  lmfao  bc  she  couldn’t  afford  her  own  laptop  to  produce  music  &  her  dad  sent  just  enough  money  as  he  was  legally  supposed  to  .  but  she  worked  her  lil  tushy  off  &  applied  to  a  music  academy  in  nyc  &  was  rejected  the  first  year  (  DEVASTATING  when  mixed  with  her  impostor  syndrome  &  daddy  issues ) but  she  practiced  more  &  more  &  edned  up  getting  accepted  the  next  year  .  here  ,  she  worked  on  her  vocal  skills  &  music  production  ,  &  started  accumulating  her  own  music  &  selling  songs  to  music  producers  on  the  side  for  some  ca$h  money  .  

          by  the  time  she  was  16  the  state  decided  she  was  old  /  mature  enough  to  live  on  her  own  so  she  got  a  TINY  lil  studio  apartment  in  harlem  where  she’d  grown  up  with  her  mum  &  she  had  friends  who  she’d  grown  up  with  .  while  it  wasn’t  the  safest  neighbourhood  statistically  sofie  felt  safe  &  just  like  one  of  the  neighbourhood  kids  .  it  was  the  first  time  she  genuinely  felt  like  she  belonged .

        she  was  accepted  on  full  scholarship  to  nyu  & majored  in  music  composition  &  vocal  performance  where  she  started  finally  feeling  secure  in  herself  &  released  her  own  music  on  soundcloud  ,  quickly  amassing  a  following  &  becoming  an  ‘ up  &  coming ‘  artist  !!  she  was  contacted  by  a  scooter  braun  type  guy  who  was  interested  in  taking  her  on  under  his  management  so  she  dropped  out  of  uni  in  her  2nd  year  (  bc  tbh  her  grades  in  anything  other  than  her  music  classes  were  v  subpar  )  .  soon  enough  producers  wanted  to  work  with  her  &  she  was  making  enough  that  she  didn’t  have  to  sell  her  songs  which  she  hated  doing  but  had  to  pay  the  bills  u  know  .  oh  &  her  vc  is  billie  eilish  bc  ofc  shes  my  queen  go  stream  when  we  all  fall  asleep  where  do  we  go  on  spotify  u  won’t  be  disappointed  

        she  also  started  getting  into  the  partying  scene  here  yikes  !! it  was  a  method  for  her  to  numb  all  her  pain  from  her  past  &  impostor  syndrome  &  drown  all  that  out  in  pills  or  tequila  .  it  rly  wasn’t  healthy  bc  of  how  she  would  binge  for  a  weekend  then  try  to  stay  sober  throughout  the  week  but  failing  by  about  wednesday when  she  started  to  feel  hollow  .  she  wasn’t  gonna  be  a  one  hit  wonder  &  her  mom  sure   as  hell  didn’t  go  through  all  that  trouble  just  for  sofie  to  be  a  nobody  addict  !! so  she  kept  it  together  enough  to  start  making big  bucks  & well  …….  here  she  is  :~)

personality

        sofie  blames  it  on  her  brazilian  heritage  but  this  bitch  loves  a  party  !!  like  shes  the  one  who  gets  happy drunk  at  the  pre  then  is  the  first  on  the  dance  floor  then  later  falls  out  of  the  club  &  into  some  rando’s  bed !!  in  the  back  of  her  mind  she  knows  her  drug  &  alcohol  use  is  self - destructive  but  she  figures  shes  allowed  to  let  loose  sometimes (  even  if  that  ends  up  being  most  nights  )  ;  rly  she’s  just  in  denial  bc  she  doesn’t  want  to  change  her  ways  &  lose  her  identity  !!

        doesn’t  put  labels  on  her  gender  identity  or  sexual orientation  .  she  finds  them  restrictive  &  useless  for  herself  ,  labels  would  only  be  to  satisfy  others  .  she  doesn’t  see  herself  as  110%  female  either  like  she’s  all about  gender  being  a  social  construct  /  a  spectrum  ;  some  days  she’ll  get  dolled  up  &  wear  heavy  makeup  &  six  inch  heels  ,  some  days  she’ll  walk  around  in  a  bun  &  tracksuit  &  trainers  .  anyone  who  asks  abt  it  will  swiftly  get  2  middle  fingers  in  their  face  !! shes  uncontrollable  i  swear

         puts  up  a  tough  bad - ass  front  like  billie  does aksjdh  like  nah  nothing  can  hurt  me  im  bulletproof  !!  but  is  rly  just  kinda  broken  underneath  .  she  doesn’t  even  let  her  closest  friends  know  how  hurting  she  is  bc  she  doesn’t  wanna  burden  them  .  she  rly  uses  mmusic  as  an  outlet  tho  so  she’ll  act  totally  tough  then   go  to  the  studio  &  record  all  about  her  heartache  .  will  NEVER  let  someone  see  her  cry  no  matter  how  close  she  is  with  them  .  she  rly  sees  it  as  a  sign  of  weakness  &  shes  in  a  much  better  place  than  she  was  5  years  ago  so  she  figures  she’s  not  ALLOWED  to  feel  anything  but  grateful  .  

         this  bitch  overthinks  everything  !! half  the  time  she  isn’t  rly  listenning  to  whoever  bc  she’s  thinking  about  what  they  just  said  &  if  they’re  mad  with  her  .  she’s  that  friend  who  will  ask  u  to  come  over  to  formulate  the  perfect  text  response  &   fuss  over  it  for  hours  .  that  being  said  ,  if  someone  talks  shit  abt  anyone  shes  tight  with  ,  they’re  gonna  get  it  the  next  time   she  sees  them  .  she  isn’t  about  violence  &  would  never  get  into  a  physical  fight  ,  but  she’d  work  behind  the  scenes  to  ruin  their  life  .  but  then  she  pretends  like  she  rly  doesn’t  care  though  its  obvious  to  those  close  to  her  that  she  cares  way  too  much

has  a  very  hard  time  expressing  love  bc  she  didn’t  have  much  practice  w  it  growing  up  .  she  was  on  her  own  most  of  her  young  life  so  even  if  her  mom  would  tell  her   te  amo  she  would  be  like  uh  huh  gtg  bye !!  

tldr ;  poor  bitch  w  abandonment  issues  who  was  able  to  get  out  of  it  by  channeling  her  energy  into  music  &  numbing  the  stress  with  pills  or  alcohol  which  she  def  still overuses  but  she  doesn’t  think its  a  problem  !! yikeroony  !!  loves  partying  & having  a  good  time  ,  puts  up  a  tough  front  but  is  rly  soft  underneath  .

wanted (* = mw)

friends  from  high  school  !! -  people  sof  stayed  with  in  the  summer  bc  she  wasn’t  going  home  to  brazil  .  

friends  from  music  school  !!  -  she  def  felt  like  an  outsider  among  the  music  prodigies  at  this  school  ,  &  maybe  this  person  was  one  of  the  ppl  she  actually  connected  with  . 

come  out  &  play  !!  this  person  acts  as  a  good  influence  to  sofie  .  they’re  level - headed  &  very  grounding  ,  &  sofie  doesn’t  let  it  show  but  they’re  really  important  to  her  .  this  is  the  Softest  billie  song  (  prob  bc  it  was  for  an  ad skdj )  &  they  inspired  it  bc  it’s  how  she  feels  when  shes with  them  .  they  encourage  her  to  be  all  that  she  can  be  &  they  believe  in  her  ,  &  they’re  prob  the  one  person  sofie  trusts  the  most  which  is  SAYING  something  !!

*exes  on  bad  terms  !!  -   ok  this  would  basically  be  based  on  all  the  songs  billie  has  about  a  failed  relationship  /  heartbreak  !! shes  got  a  bunch  .  im  thnking  maybe  she  was  actually  rly  into  them  but  had  a  hard  time  expressing  it  bc  she’s never  been  good  with  emotional  expression  ,  &  it  led  to  the  relationship  feeling ?? unfaithful  /  disconnected  ??  idk  but  she  rly  loved  them  &  is  still  nursing  that  heartbreak  .  (  x  ,  x  ,  x  )

the  paris  to  her  nicole  !!  -  ok  i  f*cking  hate  that  i  said  this  but  she’s  nicole  richie  its  true  !! she  needs  a  messy  gal  pal  exactly  like  how  paris  &  nicole  are  i  stan  them  (  x  ,  x  ,  x  )

roommate  !!  -  bc  of  her  abandonment  issues  she  rly  doesn’t  like  living  alone  so  prob  is  the  roomie  who  will  sleep  in  their  bed  from  time  to  time  bc  she  doesn’t  like  being  totally  alone  .  

*when  the  party’s  over  !!  - these  two have  been  hooking  up  for  a  while  no  strings  attached  but  recently  feelings  have  been  caught  !! &  now  they  still  hook  up  quite  often  but  sofie’s  kinda  harboring  feelings &  pretending  all  is  well  but  she  rly  hopes  they’ll  just  stay  the  night  from  time  to  time  ,  &  gets  secretly  heartbroken  when  she  sees  them  flirting  or  leaving  with  someone  else  . they  can  also  have  feelings  if  u  want  that  angst :~)

fwb  !!  -  sofie  is  pretty  transparent  when  it  comes  to  what  she  wants  &  she’s  got  a  bad  habit  of  replacing  dealing  with  problems  with  getting  laid  !! like  u  know  in  movies  when  the  man  opens  his  wallet  and  a  row  of  like  20  pictures  of  different  women  fall  out  ??  that’s  sof’s  aesthetic  .  she’s  got  a  bunch  of  fwb  of  all  genders  so  bring  me  some  pls

***mutual  dislike  /  copycat  !!  self - explanatory  ,  sofie  thinks  this  person  is  copying  her  in  everything  she  does  &  thinks  its  annoying  af  so  she  wrote  a  song  abt  it  &  hopes  they  indirectly  get  the  message  even  if  she  drops  not  so  subtle  hints  .  skfldjh  itd  be  messy  pls !!

party  buddies  !!  -  someone  who  encourages  sofies  wild  ways  .  when  the  two  get  together  its  usually  to  get  drunk  or  high  &  thats  the  way  they  like  it  .  sofie  doesn’t  feel  judged  by  them  as  she  does  by  others  who  don’t  get  obliterated  at  every  social  event  (  what  an  idea  !!  )  so  she  rly  values  them  ,  even  if  she  doesn’t  express  it

 ** 8 !! - someone  who  kinda  reluctantly  got  into  a  relationship  with  sofie  out  of  maybe  a  desire  to  save  her  from  herself  ??  like  u  know  that  good  girl  bad  boy  trope  where  the  girl  tries  to  save  the  boy  from  whatever  he’s  struggling  with  ?  that’s  them  but  the  roles  are  just  reversed  -  good  guy  ,  bad  girl  .  it  was  kinda  just  filled  w  her  being  self - destructive  &  confiding  in  him  but  not  rly  reciprocating  the  care  so  he  became  kinda  distant  bc  of  it  .  tbh  she  prob  knew  he  was  too  good  for  her  but  had  a sliver  of  hope  he  wouldn’t  leave  her  even  tho  eventually  she  became  too  much  for  him  .  (  lyrics : you said, "don't treat me badly", but you said it so sadly, so I did the best I could, not thinkin' you would have left me gladly. i know you're not sorry, why should you be? 'cause who am I to be in love, when your love never is for me?” )

good influence  !! this  person  can  tell  that  her  beahvior  is  unhealthy  &  are  trying  to  gently  nudge  her  abt  it  .  she  can  tell  what  they’re  doing  but  her  addict  brain  is  telling  her  its  invasive  &  threatening  so  shes  not  the  fondest  of  this  person  ,  but  deep  down  she  really  appreciates  them

music buddies !! these  two  are  both  in  the  music  industry  &  rather  than  it  being  competitive  ,  they’ve  developed  a  friendship  from  it  & enjoy  working  together  .  

* someone  sofie  ghostwrites  for  !! for  whatever  reason  ,  this  muse  doesn’t  write  their  own  songs  & instead  pays  sofie  to  write  them  for  them  .  she  doesn’t  love  it  but  its  a  way  to  make  money  &  give  away  songs  she  doesn’t  feel  attached  to  but  are  worth  something  .  maybe  its  tense  bc  they  claim  the  songs  as  their  own  &  sofie  doesn’t  like  it  ,  this  could  be  ~escandolo~  later  !!

*** my boy ( high school bf ) !! - ok  tea  this  song  is  the  one  that  broke  her  into  the  industry  .  she  produced  it  all  herself  &  just  relased  it  to  her  soundcloud  thinking  it  wouldn’t  rly  go  anyway  but  !!  joke’s  on  yung sofie  .  essentially  he  thought  the  relationship  was  going  well  ,  she’d  met  his  family  &  they  rly  liked  her  but  !! sof  was  feeling  kinda  smothered  &  told  herself  he  was  lying &  cheating  on  her  n  shit  so  she  wrote  a  song  about  it  !! &  once  it  was  starting  to  get  attention  he  was  like  ….. uhhh  what  the  fuck  & she  was  like  haha  sorry  !! so  they  broke  up  &  ever  since  its  been  animosity ,  but  she  realizes  she  fucked  up  but  it  launched  her  career  so  she  doesn’t  know  whether  to  keep  up  the  idgaf  i  hurt  you  or  apologize  .  

* ex - friends  !!  ok  pls  i  have  this  hc  where  sofie  got  way  too  high  one  night  &  slept  with  this  person’s  dad  or  sibling  or  smth !!  u  know  that  line  in  ‘ bad guy ’  where  she  goes  ‘ might  seduce  your  dad  type  ? ’  ya  that’s  got  sofie  written  ALL  over  it  !!   &  now  they’re  not  friends  bc  sofie  can’t  keep  it  in  her  pants  but  both  sides  kinda  misses  the  other  but  are  too  stubborn  to  say  anything  :~(

exes from college / high school  !!  - ok honestly i just love all the exes plots . gimme someone who like maybe they were hooking up & decided to give it a shot dating & it worked for a while but ultimately fell apart bc of sof’s inability to open up. maybe theres still tension or maybe theyre friends now !!

* lovely  !!  -  i  need  a  male  voice  for  khalid’s  part  in  lovely  bc  i  need  this  song  in  my  life  bc  its  a  whole  ass   sofie  mood  ok  .  

i’ve  also  got  a  wanted  connections  tag  linked  HERE  dksfj there's  not  much  in  it  yet  but  feel  free  to  check  it  out  .  ok  i  love  y'all  

[beanmaster-pika]

I ended up getting encouraged to talk about my aus so thank you all for enabling my self-indulgence

Swan Prince AU

This one’s the first one? And it’s more of a royalty AU, actually. Licht vacations in the Servamp kingdom every summer but one day he gets cursed by an evil magician (Touma) to turn into a swan. Hyde, who’s the same age as him and therefore his designated playmate when they were kids, recognizes it’s him and freaks out because if the Jekylland kingdom finds out they let this happen then there could be a war and no one wants that thank you very much.

I’m actually more interested in worldbuilding than the plot so :/ For reasons I have not thought up, there’s the ‘older bunch’ of Servamps (Kuro to Freya) and the ‘younger bunch’ (Hyde to Lily) and there’s like a ten-year age gap between the olders and the youngers, and then there’s Tsubaki, who’s twelve and illegitimate. Kuro inherited the throne at 17 when their dad disappeared and by the time Tsubaki’s mother showed up a couple years after with a baby that had the last king’s eyes, the kingdom had stagnated. However, a baker named Mahiru starts showing up at the castle to petition the king, and he appears so frequently and his words are so sensible (”He’s got to have studied statecraft,” Hugh declared. “There’s no way he hasn’t.”) that Kuro’s siblings up and offer him a job as the king’s advisor. After many arguments and finally a heart-to-heart where Mahiru learns that the last king once allowed Kuro to make a decision that almost led the whole country to war, they start to work towards understanding each other and cooperating and it’s tough, but by the time the present story rolls around the kingdom is flourishing. 

The older bunch all hold a place in court; Hugh is a minister of internal affairs, and he, Kuro, and Mahiru are at the heart of the kingdom’s laws; Jeje is the most knowledgeable about magic, especially curses, and works as both a consultant and investigator, though he’s sent to the Alicein kingdom along with Lily (16 at the time of the story, two years younger than Hyde) to serve as ambassadors and tutors to the king’s sons; and Freya’s the head of the army and the most terrifying person in the kingdom. The people love her. There’s a more even distribution of power than there was before Kuro inherited the throne - Mahiru’s influence and Kuro’s reluctance to be in charge of literally everything see to that - and provincial courts have juries put in place so that people are no longer solely at the mercy of sometimes corrupt judges.

On a different note, Hyde starts out as a sweet kid, but when his friend-and-maybe-crush Princess Ophelia two kingdoms over dies when he’s sixteen he goes wild in his grief and takes up with a group of bandits and starts hurting people. When confronted by his siblings, he declares that if the world is so cruel as to take Ophelia’s life, then his actions are just a drop in the bucket. Now, this is very much wrong and a problem, so Kuro manages to seal him temporarily into hedgehog form for a month (EDIT: yes he can normally transform into a hedgehog, no Licht doesn’t know at first, yes animal transformation is a common ability in their kingdom, and no the sealing is not a common or easy practice. It’s legitimate grounds for Kuro to self-prescribe absolute bed rest in order to recover from the drain on his energy, and he’s stronger than normal mages and had assistance to boot; a month is the very limit he can achieve with that) saying that if he’s lost his grasp on his humanity, then perhaps he’ll find it again in an inhuman form, and then they drop him off at the summer villa reserved for Prince Licht with Guildenstern as a caretaker. Now, unbeknownst to everyone, Licht arrived for vacation even though it’s midwinter, and he is absolutely taken with the hedgehog that’s wandering through the villa (”Oh Shit,” Guildenstern said. Hyde agreed. This was very much an Oh Shit situation.). It turns out that while he hadn’t known Princess Ophelia personally, he’d had mad respect for her for stepping up to enact a change in her kingdom’s politics even though it had ended in her assassination. He and Hyde end up having furious arguments over ideology (Licht still doesn’t know that Hyde’s there, and he doesn’t connect the voice with the hedgehog) and in the end, he helps Hyde regain his humanity - to be human is to desire, to desire is to dream, and to dream is to push your imagination past its very limits and work for it. That ends up breaking the seal prematurely, much to everyone but Licht’s relief. Licht’s pissed that the hedgehog turned out to be Hyde. And when Licht is cursed to be a swan, well, Hyde’s worried about it affecting relations with the Jekylland kingdom, yeah, but he also wants to do for Licht what Licht did for him: make him human again.

ANYWAY HERE’S THE DOODLES

Teacher AU

Because now they’re teachers.

This one has basically nothing in it yet aside from it being fun to consider what subjects they’d teach (Mahiru’s home ec; Kuro’s phys ed; Hugh’s history; Jeje’s art; Freya’s a counselor; Hyde’s literature; World End’s either a history or foreign language teacher; Lily’s a student teacher; Licht’s a piano instructor now; Otogiri’s the school’s doctor) and what everyone else would be (Tsurugi and squad are bodyguards; Iduna’s an engineer; Tsuyuki’s with the government; Sham’s with the government; Higan’s a wandering artist; Sakuya’s a psychologist; Ryuusei and Koyuki haven’t factored in at all oops; everyone else either has their canon profession or they’re college or high school students). One of the tidbits I actually spared thought to is that Kuro took a couple gap years and ended up in the same freshman Psych 101 class as Sakuya (who at present shares an apartment with Mahiru) and they somehow bonded and even after the class ended they became texting buddies (usually of memes) and hung out from time to time, but then Mahiru (after getting fired from his first school for some sort of reckless behavior) gets hired to the school all the Servamps are gathered at and starts out pretty argumentative with Kuro but eventually they gain a mutual understanding and maybe the beginnings of a relationship and Sakuya puts two and two together from conversations with Mahiru and texting with Kuro that the man he’s in love with might be in love with his texting buddy and he doesn’t know how to deal with that and so stops texting Kuro, and Kuro finds out about it from talking to Mahiru and then this happens

Kuro, throwing a chicken nugget at Sakuya’s window: why are u ghosting me Sakuya, opening the window: can u throw another

And they talk and all is well again. A poly ending is absolutely in the stars because Mahiru loves them both and they agree to it.

Also the other thing is this

Pokemon AU

This is the one I like the most right now! I actually have a couple of chapters written for it that I haven’t posted yet but basically the whole Servamp thing remains, but the pokemon that they transform into actually have their own personalities - rather than a transformation, it’s a shared body thing, and the human form is a manifestation of the vampire (formerly human) soul. I haven’t ironed out all the details of why this is happening, but I like the idea of them never being alone, though I haven’t figured out quite how this will change them. Hyde’s gonna be fun and also painful to figure out.

Fate AU

LET’S GET THIS HOLY GRAIL BREAD

Mahiru’s uncle was going to take part in the holy grail war but Mahiru accidentally summoned instead and what he summoned was Kuro, a Lancer. Add to that that Sakuya is still his best friend, was meant to be a pawn of Touma’s but ended up being Master-napped by the Saber he summoned (Tsubaki), and Tsubaki wants vengeance on Kuro, and we’ve got another round of heartbreaks on our hands because Fate is nothing but heartbreaks. The Alicein brothers are also there, summoning the same Servants (Caster and Archer) that their grandfather and Mikuni’s mom summoned, and they know that the Grail is tainted so they’re out to destroy it. Their backstory is a little tweaked with Mikuni just stealing his mom’s command seals to protect Misono instead of killing her, and he grabs Misono and absconds to the Church where they stay until Mikage ensures that Mikuni’s mom can never hurt Misono again after the War. Misono goes home, but Mikuni goes to study at the Clock Tower and comes back just in time for the next war. (There’s more under the pictures)

Tetsu summons Rider, but his sisters are the masterminds of the operation; they’re doing their best to restore their family in an age of declining mana, and Tetsu’s got the best Magic Circuits among them so he’s tasked with summoning, but they’re operating under the strict principle that if any of their lives are endangered, especially Tetsu’s, then they halt the project immediately and seek refuge with the Church. Hugh’s hyped about the whole ‘restoring the family’s magic’ thing.

Licht, on the other hand, comes from a family that’s at the very height of their magical power. He doesn’t believe in an omnipotent wish granter because he feels that it’s cheating, but to win the Grail is the goal of every mage out there so he’s in it for the glory. For a summoning catalyst he uses a bracelet that was supposed to belong to a martyr princess of old (”She gave her life for her goals,” Licht said in awe. “Yep, it’s very impressive. Please do not do the same,” Licht’s mother said.), but it turned out to belong to the other person connected to her legend, a man who was terrible and cruel, uncaring of others after he was driven mad in grief, and so Licht summons a demon of an assassin and Crantz (regular human) is left babysitting these goons while Licht’s parents hold down the fort in Austria.

Now, the Berserker team. I just want you all to know that the ones I was most excited about is the Berserker team. Tsurugi carried out the summoning here, Touma’s other pawn, and he added a madness enhancement, changing Freya’s class from Shielder to Berserker. Tsurugi, unlike Sakuya, is a highly trained operative and adult and one of the Church’s Executors, and he’s also completely under Touma’s thumb so he’s an ideal proxy even though Touma couldn’t snatch Sakuya’s command seals like he intended to. Unfortunately, Freya’s madness has just released her inhibitions and she’s this fucking close to pulling a Tsubaki and Master-napping Tsurugi. She does her best - in her limited capacity - to get Tsurugi away from Touma and it all culminates in Touma deciding she’s too much of a loose cannon and trying to take Tsurugi’s command seals away, but the seals instead go to Iduna somehow (haven’t figured that out yet) and Iduna and Freya spirit Tsurugi away to help him recover. Shortly after Iduna develops a magic item that’ll dampen the effect of the madness enhancement, more or less reverting Freya to her original class.

Now, this Grail War is an absolute clusterfuck by this point, mostly because all the summoned Servants are siblings, so a Ruler comes in - drum roll please - World End! Because who better to solve a sibling squabble than another sibling, even if he is the third youngest. This is mostly because I want World End to be included in stuff. World End’s in my Pokemon AU. I failed to elaborate on that but since that’s the AU I’m actually writing it’s all good. Anyway they’re all gathered in a sort of war council at a family restaurant to work out their intense family issues and then World barges in ‘WHAT’S UP THIS IS A PRETTY AWKWARD REUNION.’

This actually might be one of my favorites on account of being able to have them all be different physical ages but keeping their age hierarchy since Heroic Spirits can be summoned at whichever point of their lives was significant, and also this means that I can just make up lore for them. In ten, twenty years I’m probably going to look back on this and groan but for now I’m going to have fun with it.

For Kuro, he took down an entire army on his own at age eighteen and then retreated from the world. Hugh stopped a war when he was small (this threat of war surfaced again when he was older; this was when Kuro took down a whole army). Jeje became a famous outlaw. Freya overthrew a government in order to protect her soldiers. Hyde served a princess, but she gave her life for peace, and shortly afterwards his older brother killed their father; Hyde turned cold and cruel after that. World End inherited his sister’s kingdom after she died in battle and stood strong against threats from other kingdoms, displaying sharp wisdom despite his brash personality. Snow Lily used his illusions to carry out a large scale rescue operation on a child trafficking ring. And Tsubaki? Tsubaki was but a man who inherited a sword from his father, then vanished into the night when that same father was killed. He could have - should have - been summoned as an avenger, but for the sake of story convenience and keeping the war to the traditional seven classes, I chose saber for him.