#this was really hard because i do love all my fics

[womenwoso]

Thank you so much for the kind words on my last fic. It's really appreciated. Thank you to @helen-with-an-a for being amazing and proofreading. Hope you enjoy and requests are open. Please send in ideas.

Hard questions

Mapí León was perched on the edge of the sofa, her eyes showing her exhaustion after a long day of practice. Fresh from a shower, her damp hair was wrapped in a towel when Clara burst into the room, her little face beaming with excitement.

“Mamí!” Clara exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “I saw a picture of you in your Spain jersey at school today! You looked so happy, like me when I play football with you and all my tias. When do I get to play with them again? Why don’t you play for Spain anymore, do you not love Spain?

Mapí paused, Clara was in the stage of asking questions constantly, but this question hung in the air like a heavy cloud. She had anticipated this moment. Clara was getting old enough to ask tough questions—ones that carried a lot of history, choices, and feelings that Mapí had kept to herself but she hadn’t expected this question just yet.

For a brief moment, Mapí was silent, just gazing at her daughter, who was looking back at her with wide, innocent eyes, eager for a response.

“Clara, honey,” Mapí began gently, pulling her onto her lap, “It’s not that I don’t love playing for Spain anymore. I’ve always loved it. I still do.”

Clara tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “Then why don’t you play with my tias? You’re the best player! Tia Ale plays for Spain, so does Aita, Patri, Jana and Irene. All the girls play for a country there's a lot of countries more than just Spain. It's so cool. ”

Mapí let out a soft laugh, gently pushing a lock of hair away from Clara’s forehead. “You know, being the best doesn’t always cut it. Football is more than just skills—it’s about the teammates, the environment, and how you feel … on the inside.”

Clara looked puzzled, her little brain trying to process the information. “But … but you’re amazing, Mamí! You helped Spain win! Why wouldn’t they want you anymore?”

Mapí felt a weight in her chest. She had kept the real reasons for stepping back from the national team to herself, not wanting to overwhelm Clara with the complicated details. But now, her daughter deserved honesty, even if it was tough to share.

“Sometimes, Clara,” Mapí said, her voice thick with feeling, “sometimes the people in charge don’t treat you the way you should be treated. They don’t do their jobs properly and might end up hurting people. They might not recognise your worth. And when you feel that way for too long, it gets hard to keep going. When something like that happens, iIt hurts. And when something hurts, you have to think about what’s best for you.”

Clara paused, clearly processing everything. Mapí could see the little gears working in her brain. “So... you left … because they were … mean? … to you?”

Mapí gazed into her daughter’s eyes, so similar to her own, feeling a pang in her heart. “Sí carino, something like that. But it’s not just about being nice. It’s about feeling valued and … and being respected. Football is all about teamwork, but it is also based on trust and support. When those things are missing, it gets really tough to keep playing.”

Clara seemed to ponder this for a while, a little crinkle forming in her brow. Finally, she asked, “Are you going to go back?”

Mapí offered a gentle smile, a blend of sadness and hope shining in her eyes. “I’m not sure, nena. Sometimes, people need a little time to heal before they can return to something and sometimes you have to step away so the changes that need to be made can happen. Right now, I’m focusing on Barça and making sure I’m in a good place, where I can be the best version of myself …  the best Mamí I can be for you. I can’t promise I’ll ever play for Spain again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love the game or my country. I do. Always.”

Clara looked up at her mom, her tiny hands resting on Mapí’s arm. “I want you to play for Spain again. I want to see you in the jersey.”

Mapí’s heart warmed, her daughter’s words reminding her of the love that kept her going every day. “Maybe one day, pequeña. Maybe one day.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the heaviness of their talk hanging in the air. Mapi realised that Clara didn’t grasp everything completely, but she could see the love and hope shining in her daughter’s eyes. And honestly, that was enough for now.

With a gentle kiss on Clara’s forehead, Mapí pulled her in for a tight hug. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my biggest supporter. That’s what really counts.”

Clara beamed, resting her head on her mom’s shoulder. “I’ll always cheer for you, Mamí. Forever.”

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been thinking the kind of writing I do and the kind of reactions it gets. Some authors get goofy comics of their works. Me? I just got a comment on my Captain America: Winter Soldier fic that I helped the reader understand 9/11. I am, by the way, delighted by that.

I struggle to describe my own writing style. It's wordy, I know that, and favors a LOT of detail, to its benefit and detriment. I'm indulging this tendency for my current fic because it's fanfic and I am having a lot of fun seeing what details I write that I end up elaborating on, but my number one style goal this year is to work on brevity and a snappier pace. My style is so introspective; characters spend a lot of time reflecting on themselves. I put a lot of work into making my characters complex, even at times contradictory because I think that's true to human nature. And by god, do I think about a story's themes. Do other writers think about themes this much? Sometimes I'm like, hey brain, I'm actually good on themes. Would love to get some plot.

Not to entice all the sapiosexuals out there, but I take a very cerebral approach writing. (This does not btw mean that the fic itself will be particularly intelligent.) I'm not saying this is a good or bad way--it's one way to write. My writing can feel very cold to me. Very same-y as well. That's why writing SQQ pov is so fun, it's such a radically different voice than my usual.

The fic I'm writing now was supposed to be a lighthearted fic that was an excuse for me to practice writing a sex scene. Almost 80k words in, it's so super not that. I just can't resist the thrall of complication. Although you know, as I'm writing this, I'm not exactly sure what an "intellectual approach" to writing even means to me. I use big words? I overuse semi-colons?

Maybe it's the way that I'm so language-forward in my writing. Like, what I love doing is crafting a sentence. Someone described literature to me as writing where the main draw is the author's technical accomplishment in executing their style. I definitely favor authorial voice, to the point where the stories I write that I like least feel like balsa wood gilded over. It looks nice, but you quickly realize it's weak as hell.

There's works that clearly value style over plotting, and vice versa. You need both when you write--all plot with no style reads like a synopsis of itself and all style with no plot is imagery in pursuit of nothing. Both very boring in their own way. It's interesting how totally which one weighs more affects every part of the story. Mrs. Dalloway is not a fast-paced page turner, and a thriller doesn't halt itself so we can read really beautiful, pointless paragraphs about how the color of the sky evokes memories of a long ago time when you were so different.

Maybe what I mean is that my stories tend to evolve out of the ideas that I'm exploring. In the fic I'm writing now, I had this core conceit of misunderstanding: people failing to interpret something without knowing they're doing so. In a way, the entire story is about the hard work of moving from misunderstanding to understanding. Getting information, interpreting it, having that interpretation challenged, exploring what that challenge provokes, moving either closer or further from "the truth". Shen Qingqiu misunderstands basically everything, and basically everyone misunderstands Shen Qingqiu. What situations can I make that center on misunderstandings? I also think a lot about the concept of fault--how have people failed in the past, how are they failing in the present, and how do you make up from what you have done wrong? Do you get to just move forward? Are you always at mercy of whatever you did in the past?

So a lot of the plot of the story stems out of ways that I can bring those ideas to the forefront. When I get stuck, I think of different ways these concepts can manifest. Ming Fan's getting a whole plotline because of this. I like my writing, I do, but I’ve really been thinking about the way I write affects what I write. And then in turn the reactions I get to my writing. And then I wrote this whole post because ao3 was down and I couldn’t post my chapter. And now here we are.

Also general DVD commentary on OOC fic--I hit such a roadblock because we're very close to the point of the story where Big Things are going to happen, and I could not decide on exactly how those things should occur. I had about three ideas that I was excited about. None of them were compatible with the others and each would have very different emotional implications. It's hard to write when you're essentially juggling three different drafts. The only way I got myself to commit to one was promising myself that I could always write AUs of my own fic. I honestly doubt I'll get around to doing that, but who knows. Maybe someday there will be a fic of (spoiler warnings ig for things that aren't going to happen) this fic's version of sqq and lbh in the endless abyss together.

Also you would not imagine the amount of thought I've given which conversation should happen before the abyss and where each character relationship needs to be. I have dithered like crazy. And there's so many relationships I'm working with. I'm keeping track of Shen Qingqiu's relationship with: Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan, Mu Qingfang, Ming Fan, Shen Jiu, Qing Jing Peak as a whole, a couple of OCs, the System, and his concept of self. Mu Qingfang has not been on screen for a minute but it's not because he doesn't haunt my plot outline. Sorry, bud, everyone else just keeps getting more pressing stuff.

[glossykissies]

hi princess! this is my first time sending an ask so i apologize if i mess up but ive been reading all your scott fics and ive been thinking about how scott and kitty would interact. i feel like after a bit of banter he’d get fed up and put her in her place, thank you for feeding us!!

without realising, scott can be rather nonchalant — and that often causes you to act out, skulking around poking and prodding at him until he gives you something, not satisfied until he does.

you’d waited for him all day to get back from work, and once he was back — instead of dropping everything to spend time lounging around with you like you’d hoped, he’s opening up his laptop with that permanent frown of his, not even close to giving you the attention that you need.

you really did try to be patient at first, knowing there was a chance you’d be rewarded for being such a good girl — but it was hard, you were feeling extra needy and emotional, and the whole thing was making you feel neglected.

after an hour, the attitude starts to seep in, continually disturbing him from his work to annoy him, pressing at him with your clawed manicure and whining, kicking your feet into his leg before he’d swat your foot away distractedly, continuing to type.

“god, if you love work so much why don’t you just date your laptop instead of me.” you huff, storming off to the kitchen of scott’s apartment aimlessly where you’d sulk for another ten minutes before finally hearing his slow unbothered footsteps.

you keep your back to him, hoping to feel him wrap his arms around you or even just stroke your lower back as he passes like he does when he’s in a good mood, but instead you hear him busy himself with opening the cupboards to retrieve the ingredients for his coffee. you quietly huff out your nose, pout deepening as you pretend to have great interest in the marbling on the counter top.

“tantrums wont get very far with me, just saying.” scott speaks, and your eyes fill with irritated tears. you just wanted his attention.

“not having a tantrum.” you grit your teeth, refusing to look at him and you just know he shakes his head with an amused smile.

“alright. so that wasn’t you that just cussed me out and stormed off. got it.” he sarks, and you spin around.

“y— you’re being an asshole. did you come in here just to — just —”

“i’m making coffee.” he shrugs, interrupting you and his nonchalance causes you to lose your temper, striding over and lightly hitting his arm. it was pathetic, and you weren’t quite sure why you did it. he pours his drink, unwounded.

“ouch.”

“i hate you.” you clench your fists by your sides. scott’s jaw ticks, losing his patience now as he places his mug down and grapples you by the arm, turning your body so your back was to his chest, wrapping a thick arm over your neck and applying a light pressure.

“you hate me?” he asks firmly and you suck in a shaky breath, body instantly calming at the feeling of his warmth all whilst beginning to release your pent up emotion, a tear streaking the makeup beneath your eye.

“no.” your answer is fast and breathy and you feel him nod.

“say what you really mean.” he commands blankly, voice holding authority with such little effort.

“f—feel neglected.” you whisper, sharp nails lightly scratching at his forearm. he holds the headlock a little longer, letting you feel his chest moving up and down with his slow breathing against your back for a moment — maybe he knew you needed the contact despite his strictness.

“i am doing my work.” he lowers his tone and you whine, so he tightens his grip which tells you to shut up and listen. “you are going to go to the bedroom, and calm down. i don’t want to hear anymore fussing. alright?” you nod, and it’s enough for him to let go and pat you on the ass to scurry off.

you take a few steps before you turn to him, and his cold heart thaws at the sight of you — all upset, snotty, mouth turned down because you’re crying now. “how long?” you wail, and it’s so desperate, scott feels guilty for being so strict. he sighs out his nose, mouth in a straight line and he steps up to you to cup your jaw, making you let out a pathetic little hiccup-sob.

“look at me.” his deep voice rumbles and you force your sticky eyes upwards to him, where he brushes a firm thumb over your cheek. “i’m not gonna be long. go to the room, take some breaths. like i taught you.” he’s sincere, eyes boring into yours and you find yourself nodding, feeling a little more comforted by his demand being directed toward your wellbeing. “you’re okay. go.” he nods to the bedroom and you slide off, with only the urge to be his good girl for the rest of the day.

[xtarmanderx]

Hello! Can I request Jealous Luca & the Buck meets 20 squad fic for the make me write? 😊❤️

Your wish is my command!! Sorry this took so long!

Jealous Luca is up first!

-

“Count us in, too.” Tan says while the rest of their team murmurs their agreements. “Where are we headed? The usual?”

“Can’t do that, Montoya’s retirement party is being held there.” Mumford explains. “Can hit Smitty’s?”

“That place is expensive as hell.” Tan complains immediately. The teams fall into their familiar bickering and Luca chuckles, shouldering his backpack as he falls into step beside Rocker as they leave the locker room.

“You did great in the ring,” he tells him when he’s confident his team has stopped paying them any attention.

“Thanks.” Rocker beams, his smile scrunching his nose and crinkling the skin around his eyes. Luca wants to press kisses to every crease. “Sorry you’re stuck with inventory.”

“At least it’s better than cleaning Black Betty inside and out. I can do it just fine, but no one else loves and respects her like I do.” Luca jokes, throwing in a wistful sigh, and Rocker’s expression turns fond. Luca thinks he does that a lot these days. And look, he’s not a complete idiot. Thanks to Chris and Tan, he’s pretty damn aware of the younger man’s crush on him. He’d be lying to himself if he tried to pretend like he didn’t feel the same way. But no one will understand why he doesn’t want to risk their friendship.

It’s well known that Luca loves the job over everything else. He’s lost plenty of relationships over the years because of it and he hasn’t regretted any of them. Being a S.W.A.T. officer is demanding of his time and energy and he puts all of himself into it. It’s not just about the legacy of his family name, but it’s built into his DNA all the same. He loves what he does and who he works with. And dating someone with the same job as him…there’s no denying it would complicate things, but that isn’t what worries him the most. No, it’s that Rocker has the ability to take away the one thing Luca loves most - his passion for his job.

So he ignores his feelings and pretends like he doesn’t see the way Rocker looks at him. It’s a hell of a lot easier said than done, of course. Luca can’t help himself when he flirts with the younger man, he’s always pleased when he’s the reason for that beautiful blush on Rocker’s cheeks. (And if he wants to see that red spread on other parts of his body, well, who can blame him?)

Time for Buck to meet 20-Squad!

-

“Have you met them all before?” Buck asks, carefully wrapping his brownie pan in tinfoil. He glances across the counter where Tommy is precisely filling their cooler with ice and their preferred drinks, throwing in a couple of boozy slushy packs, too.

“Once,” Tommy answers. He looks up, smiling as he meets Buck’s eyes. “You’ve got nothing to worry about unless they invite you to a game of basketball.” He teases. Buck blushes, ducking his head and squeezing the brownie container. “I think you’ll be just fine, baby.” The pet name sends a shiver down Buck’s spine, just as it always does, and he smiles and looks up again. “You liked Luca, didn’t you?”

“He was great.” Buck really wishes they’d been able to talk more, but he’s hoping they’ll have an opportunity to do that today. If he’s being honest, he’s a little surprised that Rocker had extended the invitation to both of them for the cookout. He doesn’t know how he keeps managing to piss Rocker off, but he’s pretty sure the other man was mad at him when they’d left the same coffee shop a few weeks ago. He’s a hard man to read, that’s for sure. “Do you think I should have made Bobby’s lasagna? I-I know Rocker said they had all the main foods covered, but-“

“Baby,” Tommy interrupts him gently. “Take a deep breath for me. They’re going to love you, okay?” He comes around the counter and rests his broad palms on Buck’s shoulders, sliding them down his arms. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Buck’s nose and his stomach flutters in response. “You ready to go?”

“As ready as I can be,” he says. Tommy nods and kisses him chastely before stepping back so he can grab their cooler. Carrying the brownie pan, Buck takes a deep breath and follows him outside.

-

Tommy has to circle the block twice before he can find a parking spot. He ends up parking a few houses away from the one with a fenced in yard where Buck can see a group of people gathered around Rocker at the grill. He’s nursing a beer, midway through some kind of story when Tommy opens the gate for them to walk through, and stops with a smirk on his face. “About time you made it. Thought I was going to have to send a search party for you.”

“You wouldn’t waste the resources.” Tommy says, rolling his eyes.

“Did you bring my beer?” Rocker asks, squinting at the cooler.

“Maybe.” Tommy dumps the cooler at Rocker’s feet. “Luca inside?”

“Yeah, he’s getting the salad ready.” An Asian man answers. “Victor Tan, you must be Buck.” He offers his hand and Buck nods, shaking it. “Heard a lot about you, man.”

“You-you have?” Buck asks, looking nervously between Tommy and Rocker. They’re locked in some kind of silent argument with their eyes, the tension thickening between them, and then Rocker flushes and ducks his head.

“Who hasn’t heard of you? You’re like a local LAFD legend.” A woman with short hair tells him. “Chris Alonso, call me Chris.”

[boyfridged]

tumblr might’ve eaten my ask in the process of submitting it so i want to send it again just in case but i loved burning money! it was so so so good! something that was interesting to me was mai (and the others’) disgruntlement with the foundation—which makes sense, big corporation encroaching on small community—but it’s the first time i’ve really seen a stance like that in fics? so i was curious about your thoughts on it! mostly because the foundation is usually depicted as doing good and nothing else, which isn’t true, of course, there is more depth to it, and i really liked and thought your depiction was interesting (even if it was intended to be a one-off thing) so i wanted to ask you about it :) if you don’t mind!

it seems it did eat it, so i'm glad you sent it again!

i absolutely do not mind, and i am happy to elaborate on that -- not only in the context of the fanfic, but also in terms what i think of the canon and fanon depiction of the work of the wayne foundation, and bruce's philanthropy.

that scene in burning money is, after all, symptomatic of my own politics. but as i always say, there was also a time when dc attempted to take in-world politics seriously -- leslie is a sign of that! so i do not see why i should not, given batman is an inherently political text, more so than most superhero comics (where the power fantasy elements are not as pronounced in their relation to class and the category of crime). and batman is just impossible to read without a consideration for these elements of discourse.

the love that contemporary comics (and i do think it's much more emphasised nowadays; the editorial seems to feel a need to continuously justify bruce, and there is not an ounce of modesty in how charity is portrayed) and fanon have for the foundation is something i find perturbing; the excitement regarding it even in the more progressive fandom spaces, the willingness to indulge this narrative of saviourism is really hard to ignore. and that is a narrative i have little patience for -- i, personally, like bruce as a multi-dimensional character, his flaws included. and that does not exclude keeping in mind that he is in a position of power.

the wayne foundation is not a grassroots organisation; and as such it is bound to have it's problems at the very core of its mission. the main issue is that it has a huge potential to become an instrument of biopower; that is to say, that people in charge get to say what sort of help the area will 'benefit' from most; and that is often a calculated choice that has little to do with the existing structures and even simply the wishes of people in question. while not directly related to the foundation, this is also something that i wanted to come across in the paragraph about the plan to make the crime alley into the entertainment district (btw, my rundown of the history of east end is by no means a canon one; i took different elements and mentions from comics and even adaptations into it, since it all remains vague otherwise). even when providing the people with a new (albeit limited; there was another bit that i ended up cutting out, about crystal being a nurse and the foundation putting a lot of money into nurse training programmes, since it is productive) range of opportunities, what it often leads to is yanking the populace around according to their latest charitable ideas, rather than providing long-time support.

here is also another thing to consider, that being -- no matter bruce's best intentions, he also cannot control everything that goes on in the foundation (which again, he should not -- but that also means that his 'stellar morals' will not save it from corruption and even just administrative troubles -- like the 'queues' that arlo mentions in burning money).

and about the scene you bring up in particular -- i want to say that this principled (!) reluctance to engage with the foundation it is not supposed to reflect the attitude of the community as a whole, but some part of it. mai, especially, has a personal connection to willis (and jason); this is very much a matter of pride and resentment regarding jason's death.

i have another wip with a scene of a somewhat similar, if not more open, conversation -- that one starring benny harlowe, who mentions that after jason's death the foundation seems to have doubled down in their efforts to 'fix' the alley (a trope somewhat popular in fanon, along with catherine todd/jason todd foundations), and he says: "The whole time I was thinking, why now? What was it, our boy’s trust fund? They murder our kid and then come back with a check?"

while I do not (obv) think the whole crime alley knew Jason (neither as jason nor robin; canon does not give us much reason to think that bruce would approve of robin-era jay venturing into the alley), nor do I subscribe to modern-era exaggeration of bruce's celebrity status, I do think most people in east end would hear about a billionaire adopting a child off the streets and the child dying not that long after; and there is surely some bitterness and distrust to come with that knowledge. is this what they are -- disposable charity cases? this is, needless to say, not true to bruce's feelings -- but what does it matter? there is little dignity to be found in this whole situation (with the system) to begin with.

this got ridiculously long... sorry about that! and thank you for reading!

[queenjunothegreat]

HELLO EVERYONE GUESS WHO'S BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (•̤̀ᗜ•̤́๑) I've got another @pjo-equinox-solstice-exchange fic for you, this time for the darling @lavndvrr who asked for Valgrace, so OBVIOUSLY that's what I went with. We also got a wee lil bit of hurt/comfort in there for some spice. I hope you like it!

The title comes from Paul Laurence Dunbar's poem "Good-Night" because I am clinging to my title of Most Pretentious Bitch In This City with pride.

And with that, here is And ease thy soul with slumber bright.

Piper chewed her bottom lip while she studied him. Eventually, she spoke. “Leo… doesn’t like sleeping.” “I’ve gathered that much,” Jason confessed. “Is there any reason for that? Any way I can help?” “I dunno.” Piper’s gaze drifted over to where Leo was still sitting, enjoying the breeze Jason had called for him. “He doesn’t like being exposed. There’s not really anything you can do, other than wait for him to feel okay around you.” She hiked a challenging eyebrow at him. “You willing to do that? You ready to wait?” For Leo? Anything. Jason shrugged. “Yeah, of course.” *-*-* Leo's not sleeping, and Jason is concerned. Unfortunately, there's only one thing Jason can do to help, and that's to simply love him.

Jason would freely admit that he was more than a little concerned about Leo. Beyond the usual levels of “mother henning�� that Leo and Piper liked to accuse him of, that is. And it was all because he’d been in the middle of a really boring meeting, eyelids heavy, when he realized something unsettling.

Leo didn’t sleep. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He did sleep. Obviously he slept, even if he made it abundantly clear that he would give just about anything to avoid it. But he didn’t do it often, always the first one on the ship awake in the morning and the last one up at night, and Jason could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Leo asleep, and they were all during the quest to save Juno when they’d been stuck together on the back of a giant metal dragon together with nowhere to hide. Since that realization, Jason hadn’t been able to focus on anything but that, and now he was just sitting there staring at Leo with a crease across the middle of his forehead while Leo sat with his legs dangling over the side of the boat, tinkering with some complicated bits of bronze and wires. 

“Are you, like, actually gonna talk to me, or should I go hang out with Hazel instead? She said she could teach me how to paint my nails without making a massive mess. Because as much as I hate painting my nails, it would be better than this.”

Jason blinked in shock and turned to see Piper looking at him with her eyebrows up near her hairline and a half-smirk on her lips. He chuckled softly and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, I was, uh, distracted.”

“You don’t say.” She cocked her head to the side. “What are you thinking about?”

“Leo.”

“Well, you are breathing, so I had assumed that much.”

Jason felt his cheeks flame and he scowled at her. “Shut up.”

Piper didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. “So, what, specifically, are you thinking about Leo?”

Jason sighed and let his eyes trail back over to Leo, who had put away his little project, and was now just staring out over the sea, the sun beaming down on his cheeks. Without thinking about it too hard, Jason called a tiny little breeze to blow over Leo, the wind gently tugging at his curls and making him smile in easy contentment. Jason shook his head and turned back to Piper. “You roomed with Leo at Wilderness, right?”

Piper’s brow puckered, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh, yeah. For, like, three months. Why?”

“Did you ever see him sleep?”

Immediately, Piper stiffened, and she bristled up defensively. It was a stance Jason was more than familiar with, seeing as both Piper and Leo fell into it the instant someone asked a question that touched a little too close to those sensitive parts of their pasts. Jason had learned by now that the best way to handle these moments was to just sit back and let them scowl at him suspiciously. He couldn’t get his feelings hurt and push at them or try to desperately backtrack what he said, he just had to sit there and wait until their hackles went down and they approached him like a hesitant alley cat of their own volition.

As expected, Piper’s shoulders relaxed and her brow smoothed out and she instead went to chewing her bottom lip while she studied him. Eventually, she spoke. “Leo… doesn’t like sleeping.”

“I’ve gathered that much,” Jason confessed. “Is there any reason for that? Any way I can help?”

“I dunno.” Piper’s gaze drifted over to where Leo was still sitting, enjoying the breeze Jason had called for him. “He doesn’t like being exposed. There’s not really anything you can do, other than wait for him to feel okay around you.” She hiked a challenging eyebrow at him. “You willing to do that? You ready to wait?”

For Leo? Anything. Jason shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

“You sure?” Piper asked. “It took, like, two months for him to get comfortable with me and we literally lived together.”

That was a startling revelation. The idea that there had ever been a point in history when Leo didn’t implicitly trust Piper was almost ridiculous. Still, he just shrugged in easy acceptance again. “Yeah, sure. He can take however long he needs. I’m not going anywhere.”

Piper gave him a beaming smile, and Jason knew he’d said the right thing. “You really aren’t, are you?”

Jason quirked his mouth up in a smile, and let his gaze settle comfortably on Leo again. This time, though, Leo glanced over, his eyes bright and his lips curled up lazily. Jason gave a little tiny wave and Leo tipped his head back with a laugh that Jason couldn’t hear, but still made his heart thump heavily in his chest. 

Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.

*-*-*

After that conversation, Jason had somewhat forgotten his observation. Piper had told him to wait for Leo to come to him, and he was more than willing to do just that. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Leo would eventually turn around and see Jason standing there with arms outstretched and allow himself to be wrapped up and squeezed tight. Metaphorically, that is. Literally, Leo was already more than comfortable with Jason’s proclivity for physical contact and his love of proximity, which Jason was glad for. If he hadn’t been allowed to fold his favorite people tight to his chest and give them gentle headbuts and rub their cheeks together, he’s pretty sure he would have started ripping his hair out. 

Piper didn’t exactly love all of Jason’s physical affection. She was happy to receive hugs and she’d hold his hand or press kisses to his cheeks, but she liked to keep it brief. She didn’t like being tangled up and held in place so Jason could show her just how much he appreciated her existence, and that was just fine with him. She still gave him those blinding smiles and spoke to him in that kind tone and would sit in silence at his side for hours at a time. Jason knew Piper loved him, she just needed room to breathe while she loved him.

Leo was an entirely different story, though. For as much as Jason wanted to tuck Leo into that little spot behind his ribs and beside his heart where he knew Leo would be safe forever, Leo seemed just as eager to crawl right under Jason’s skin and live there. There wasn’t a moment where Jason and Leo were relaxing together when Leo wasn’t all but plastering himself to Jason’s side. Not that Jason made it all that easy for him to do anything else, seeing as he was immediately reaching for Leo with grabby hands the moment he’d made himself comfortable on the couch. Piper liked to laugh at them, but Leo would always scoff and accuse her of jealousy from the comfort of his and Jason’s cuddle pile.

They were in the middle of one of those cuddle sessions when Jason was forcibly reminded of his conversation with Piper. The whole crew was piled up in the living room, having a Percy-mandated movie night. Annabeth had pulled the short straw (Jason wasn’t about to accuse anyone of cheating, but he highly suspected it) and she’d chosen Wizard of Oz of all things. Percy had gone completely red and bashful at her choice, which Jason didn’t understand until Piper leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper and told him and Leo that Wizard of Oz was the first movie Annabeth had ever seen, and it was a movie Percy had watched with her. Leo had snickered, but Jason confessed he found the gesture very sweet and more than a little romantic. Leo accused him of being a sap, his gaze soft and his smile fond.

Unfortunately, for as romantic a gesture as the choice was, the movie itself wasn’t exactly entertaining. Percy and Annabeth were obviously enthralled, and Hazel was still fascinated with any and all color film, but Frank was zoned out and playing with a Chinese finger trap, and Piper was actively snoring from her place on the floor in front of Jason and Leo. 

Beside him, Jason heard Leo huff and felt him burrow even closer to Jason’s side. He smiled softly and tugged Leo impossibly closer. “Tired?”

“Bored,” Leo corrected. He shifted around until he could grumpily squish his cheek up against Jason’s chest. “This movie is a snooze fest. Can’t believe this is how Percy introduced Annabeth to cinema. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Jason chuckled and rested his chin in Leo’s dark curls. “Don’t worry about it. If you do fall asleep, I’ll wake you up, if you want.”

Leo went stiff as a board, and Jason cursed himself, furious that he’d gone and drawn attention to the matter. Still, he deliberately kept his breathing slow and even, like he hadn’t said anything at all. Leo didn’t speak, but his fingers were tapping out Morse code messages on Jason’s chest so fast a professional decoder would have trouble keeping up, and Jason was half-certain Leo was going to hop to his feet and flee. 

Yet he remained still. 

“You’ll wake me up?” Leo asked softly. 

“Of course,” Jason promised without a second’s hesitation. “I’ll keep an eye out, make sure nothing interesting happens.”

Leo chuckled and settled back against Jason’s chest. “I’ll hold you to that, Superman.”

Leo never did fall asleep for the rest of the movie, or even the one they put on after. But he remained at Jason’s side, and his breathing was slow and even and his eyes drooped heavily. A sharp tension that Jason had never noticed before was suddenly absent from Leo’s shoulders, and Jason realized that for the first time ever, Leo was completely and totally relaxed. Leo wasn’t asleep, they hadn’t gotten there yet, but this felt important. 

Jason couldn’t help but press his giddy smile into Leo’s curls. Take as long as you need. I’ll be here. 

*-*-*

Jason was on night watch the next time he thought about Leo’s sleep issues. In all honesty, he liked the night watch, especially when the Argo II  was in the air, rather than the water. He liked prowling around the deck, empty other than himself, and getting lost in tracking the way the air flowed around the ship, keeping it aloft with a breathtaking combination of engineering and magic. Leo’s work in bringing the ship to life from nothing but a twelve-year-old crayon drawing had always impressed Jason, but there was something about getting to actually feel the way Leo’s work cut through his element that left him near breathless in wonder. 

Plus, if he was on the night watch, that meant none of his crew members were, and there was a little part of his brain that insisted he take care of them that he couldn’t ignore. If he was on night watch, that meant that all of his friends were safe and asleep in their beds, resting easy with the knowledge that Jason was awake to protect them.

Well, most of his friends were asleep.

“Leo?” Jason called softly. “What are you doing up here?”

Leo jerked upright with a sharp gasp, and he whipped his head around, eyes wide. When he saw that it was Jason looking at him, he sagged in relief and let his eyes slide back shut. “Hey, Jason.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Jason accused, keeping his tone gentle. He lightly stepped into the crow’s nest from where he’d been flying moments before, and took a seat at Leo’s side. He snaked his arm around Leo’s waist and tried not to feel too pleased when Leo slumped into his side and thunked his head down on Jason’s shoulder. “What are you doing up here?”

Instead of answering, Leo fiddled with the hem of Jason’s shirt for a moment. “What are you doing up here?”

“Feeling the air flow,” Jason answered easily. “I can sense it when I’m grounded, but it’s easier up here. If I focus, I can almost see the air currents and the wind moving around the ship.”

“Huh,” Leo said softly. “That’s neat.”

“It is,” Jason confirmed. He smiled over at Leo then. “I know I’ve said it before, but you really did a good job making this thing, Leo.”

Leo shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s not that great. Besides, it’s not like I built it by myself.”

Jason was shaking his head before Leo could even finish speaking. “No, it’s more than that. This ship is yours. Even if other people helped build it, you’re the one who made it, and everyone except you would agree. And it really is that great. I told you I was feeling the air, right? Do you know why I like doing that?”

“I figured it was some Sky Boy thing.”

“It’s not.” Jason closed his eyes and smiled softly, losing himself in the airflow again. “I like it because it lets me feel the ship in a way no one else can. I can feel the way you made it all work. I can feel the way the engine manipulates the air, I can feel the magic that it uses.” He chuckled quietly. “It’s all very Leo.”

“That’s, um–” Jason heard Leo swallow heavily. “That’s neat.”

“It’s amazing,” Jason corrected. “The work you did is amazing, Leo. You’re amazing.” He opened his eyes to see that Leo was already staring at him, cheeks vermilion, and he smiled. “This ship? It’s beautiful, Leo.”

“I-” Leo cut himself off with a choked noise and tucked his face into Jason’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Jason huffed out a quiet laugh and pinched out a few of the tiny flames that had sparked to life in Leo’s curls. “You’re welcome. I mean every word.”

Leo swallowed heavily enough for Jason to hear again. “I know you do.”

Jason hummed, content with Leo’s response and started combing his fingers through Leo’s hair. He curled each lock around his finger before pulling it taught and releasing it to watch it bounce back in place. Every now and then another little fire would spark to life, but he’d smother it just as quickly as it formed, delighting in the way the flame would dance over his fingers for just a moment.

Then, Leo broke the silence. “Do you still wanna know why I’m up here?”

Jason hummed softly, considering. “If you wanna tell me, yeah. If not, I’ll live with not knowing.”

“Okay.” Leo was back to tugging on Jason’s shirt hem, picking at the loose threads with his bitten-off fingernails. Jason said nothing, and just waited until Leo cleared his throat. “I, um, had a nightmare.”

Jason’s attention immediately piqued and he frowned. He wanted to ask so many questions. Was it a nightmare about the quest? Was it a message from a god? Or was it a nightmare not related to any demigod stuff at all? Was he dreaming about his past, or was it a classic teenage nightmare like showing up to school in his underwear? Did he want to talk about it? Was there anything Jason could do to help? Would he be content to sit back and let Jason fix everything that was wrong in his life or would that be too much to ask? 

Instead of any of that, he just nodded in sympathy. “So you come up to the crow’s nest after nightmares? Can’t sleep?”

“Don’t want to, more like,” Leo muttered. “I just– I hate that moment when you wake up, you know? That moment when you’re not in the dream any more, but you realize that you’re still in danger because you were just asleep. Makes me sick. So I come up here to get as far away from everyone as possible.”

Jason didn’t understand that feeling. Not fully, at least, but he doubted Leo expected him to. So, he just hummed softly. “I get it, man. You want some company, or do you wanna be alone?”

Leo’s fingers fisted in Jason’s shirt like he was worried Jason would leave, but his tone was light and teasing when he said, “You know I’ll never say no to your company, Superman.”

“Alright then,” Jason agreed easily, feeling like his chest was going to burst from pride. “You’ve got it for as long as you want it.”

They fell into silence after that, neither of them speaking a word until the sun rose up over the horizon and Piper called them down for breakfast. Leo just stayed curled up next to Jason, playing with his shirt hem and tracing patterns on his chest and tapping out messages Jason had no hope of deciphering. He didn’t sleep, but he did rest, and Jason was more than content to keep watch over him as he did so. 

*-*-*

Jason hadn’t been sleeping well. Not since Percy and Annabeth– Not since Rome. Every night he laid in bed, perfectly still like he’d been called to attention, and with a few practiced deep breaths, he was asleep, just like he’d been trained. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many hours of sleep he got, he woke up the next morning just as exhausted as he had when he’d gone to bed. Every day he woke up and gritted his teeth through whatever the gods threw their way, before collapsing into bed and falling asleep so he could do it all again the next day.

But that wasn’t happening tonight. For some reason, Jason couldn’t sleep. He’d done everything he knew how to do, but there was something keeping him awake. Something gnawing at his consciousness that told him he couldn’t sleep. Something that said he had to stay awake. That there was something he needed to do. 

He growled softly and threw himself out of bed, storming (almost literally) down the silent halls. Coach hadn’t been enforcing the curfew recently, and even if he tried, Jason wasn’t in the mood to listen. He was at the end of his rope. He needed to get rid of this energy. He needed to find one of the training dummies and slash and hack at the thing until it was nothing but a sad pile of straw and Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. He needed to–

He froze suddenly, all the tension and aggression draining from his body in an instant. 

He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there, but he realized he was outside of the engine room door, and he heard something that he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t the sound of tears, but it was careful, even breathing, each inhale and exhale counted and measured out. It wasn’t the sound of tears, but instead the sound of fragile refusal of them. Considering where he was, there was only one person who could be on the other side of that door. 

Jason crept into the engine room, and as expected, Leo was there. He had his back to the door, his forehead pressed to the superheated metal of the main boiler, and he was breathing deeply, counting softly in Spanish with every breath. His hands were clenched in tight fists on either side of his face, and Jason could see the way he was visibly trembling from head to toe. Jason bit his lower lip for a moment before he called out in a hushed whisper, “Leo?”

Leo gave a full-body flinch and spun on his heel, eyes bright with fury. “What the heck, Jason?” he snapped. He roughly scrubbed one of his hands over his face to get rid of his scowl. “Don’t you know not to scare stressed-out demigods? Very good way to get skewered.”

“You don’t carry a weapon.”

“Charbroiled, then.”

Jason didn’t respond, he just furrowed his brow in concern. “Are you okay?”

Leo gave him a look. “Just peachy, dude.”

Jason sucked his teeth for a moment before he spoke. “I know Nico’s been spending a lot of time in the crow’s nest. Is this where you’ve started going after nightmares?”

Leo snorted derisively. “No nightmares here. In fact, I’m the least likely person on this ship to get nightmares.” When Jason made a questioning noise, he got a rueful grin in response. “You gotta sleep to have nightmares.”

Jason’s brow furrowed, and he swallowed around a lump in his throat. He looked at Leo a little closer and realized that the ever-present bags under his eyes were even darker and puffier than usual. “I’m a little scared to ask, but when was the last time you slept?”

Leo shrugged casually. “Rome.”

“Leo,” Jason breathed. He felt sick. “Leo, that was almost two weeks ago. How are you even still alive?”

“So long as I have a project to work on, I physically don’t need sleep,” Leo explained like he was walking Jason through another simple math problem. “It’s a gift from dear old dad.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut and took in a few deep breaths to calm himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to shout or cry, but he knew both would only make things worse. “Why?”

“Hm? Oh, I dunno. I guess since he’s the god of making stuff we get, like, super hyperfocus. I bet you the Athena kids can–”

“No. I mean, why are you doing this?”

Leo’s teeth clicked shut and he looked away from Jason. “Someone’s gotta keep this ship running.”

“You didn’t have to do this before.”

“Things are different now.”

Jason clenched his fists at his sides. “Leo, you need sleep.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t,” Leo snapped, his fury from before returning. “I can’t sleep, Jason! I can try all I want and I’m never going to! It’s just never going to happen! At least this way I’m not being useless! I told you, I don’t need sleep.”

“You said you don’t physically need sleep,” Jason corrected. “Sleep is more than just physical. Everybody needs sleep to function. Good sleep.”

“I bet Percy and Annabeth are getting some really good sleep down in Tartarus.”

The air went tense between them and Jason couldn’t breathe. “Is that what this is about?”

Leo jerked his head away again. “No.”

“Liar,” Jason accused immediately. He stepped forward and gently took one of Leo’s hands in both his own. “Do you… Do you think you don’t deserve sleep? Because of that?”

Leo still wouldn’t meet his eye, but his hand twitched in Jason’s hold until he had his fingers wrapped around Jason’s pinky and he squeezed. “I– No, that’s ridiculous. I just wanna make sure the ship stays in one piece so we can rescue them. That’s all.”

Jason ignored him and stepped closer, staring at Leo’s face as hard as he could to make his point clear. “It wasn’t your fault, Leo.”

Leo squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, it was.”

“It wasn’t,” Jason insisted. “I don’t care what you say. You’ve told me about the cookie already. You did that to save Frank and Hazel. Percy and Annabeth wasn’t your fault any more than it was mine or Piper’s or Nico’s or anyone’s. If it had anything to do with that fortune cookie, then it would be Nemesis's fault. Not yours, Leo. Never yours.”

Leo was shaking like a leaf in winter now, and when he looked up at Jason his eyes were wet with tears. “Jace?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m tired.”

Jason felt his heart shatter right into a million pieces. He dropped Leo’s hand, but only so he could hold open his arms in invitation. “Then sleep, Leo.” Leo stumbled forward the few steps between them before he crumpled into Jason’s chest with a sob. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped Leo up in a hug so tight it made his shoulders ache. He slowly lowered them both to the ground until he was leaning against a wall, and Leo was curled up against his chest in his lap. He pressed his trembling lips to Leo’s forehead. “Just sleep, Leo. I’ll take care of you.”

It took a long time for Leo’s tears to run dry, but eventually they did and his gut-wrenching sobs trailed off into the softest, gentlest snores Jason had ever heard in his life. Jason didn’t sleep at all that night. He stayed awake, arms wrapped securely around Leo and eyes boring holes in the door, daring anyone to come in and disturb the fragile peace that had fallen between them. Jason didn’t sleep that night, but Leo did, and that was all that mattered. 

*-*-*

Jason groaned as he shuffled down the hall, trying desperately to stretch out the ache in his back. He’d slept a little funny the night before, which meant, of course, that his whole body was going to be in pain all day. He once again found himself cursing sixteen-year-old Jason for doing, well, everything that he’d done, leaving thirty-year-old Jason to deal with the mess. Sixteen-year-old Jason may have been the one getting attacked by monsters and nearly dying on a bi-weekly basis, but thirty-year-old Jason was the one with a job, a caffeine addiction, and semi-chronic back pain, so who really had it worse, hmm? 

But for as much as some parts of getting older sucked, Jason couldn’t, and more importantly wouldn’t, say he hated it. He loved getting older, and he was keenly looking forward to every ache and pain and discomfort that came with getting to live the years ahead of him. Getting older meant sorting through junk mail and paying bills and long, frustrating phone calls with his internet service provider, but it also meant home. It meant deep breaths, knowing he was allowed to just be. It meant a house he’d helped pick out and a mattress that needed to be replaced after years of use and a coffee pot given to him for his birthday that was too fancy for him to properly use but still made a fantastic pot every morning. It meant knowing he was safe and happy and loved and that nothing was going to change that. 

It also meant a much more rigorous shaving routine, he thought to himself, scratching at the prickly fuzz on his cheek. He’d have to go to the bathroom and shave as soon as his coffee got started, otherwise he wasn’t going to get kissed.

He was suddenly interrupted by a very sharp nose being pressed hard in between his shoulder blades and thin arms being wrapped around his waist. He chuckled softly and squeezed the hands laced in front of him. “Good morning, Leo.”

“I was sleeping,” Leo complained in his sleep-thick slur, pressing even closer to Jason’s back like he was trying to fuse with his spine. “Woke me up.”

“I did not,” Jason protested. “I was very careful. You stayed asleep the whole time I was getting out of bed. How is this my fault?”

“You left,” Leo said simply. Jason turned around in Leo’s arms and Leo thumped his cheek down on Jason’s chest to scowl up at him. His hair was a mussed up mess, and his eyes were puffy and a little crusty with sleep, and his face was all smooshed up and covered in crease marks from their sheets, and his brow was furrowed in a furious pout. 

He was the single most beautiful thing Jason had ever seen.

“I’m sorry I left you,” Jason teased, stooping over to press their foreheads together. “I promise I was planning on coming back.”

“You better,” Leo mumbled. Jason leaned forward just a bit more to press their lips together and Leo let out a soft sigh of contentment. Then he lifted his hands to cup Jason’s cheeks like he always did, and he suddenly recoiled, flapping his hands around like he’d stuck them in something disgusting. “Bleh! Gross! Go shave your face!”

Jason laughed before he used his hold on Leo’s waist to drag him closer, and he started rubbing his hairy jaw all over Leo’s neck, just to hear him squeal. Once Leo resorted to smacking, Jason relented and just pressed their foreheads together again with a grin, delighting in the blotchy red beard-burn that was already starting to form. “I love you.”

 “Yeah, well, I actually hate you,” Leo informed him with a huff. To prove his point, he pressed a kiss to the tip of Jason’s nose. “Now, come on. I wanna go back to sleep.”

“Oh?” Jason’s eyebrows flew up near his hairline. “Am I allowed back in your bed? I thought you hated me.”

“I’ve decided that I love sleep more than I hate you,” Leo informed him. 

“And you can’t sleep without me?”

“Duh. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Jason chuckled softly, love blooming bright and warm in his chest. He pressed a kiss to Leo’s forehead, ignoring Leo’s gagging at the feel of his stubble. “Okay, I’ll be there. For as long as you want me, yeah?”

Leo grinned then and hugged Jason, eyes shining as he looked up at him. “Get ready for a very long day in bed then, Mr. Valdez.”

“I think I can live with that,” Jason smiled back, running his fingers through Leo’s curls. “You go back to bed and I’ll be there as soon as I get my coffee.”

“Ugh! Fine!” Leo groaned like the most put-upon man on Earth as he slumped out of the kitchen. When he was out of sight, he shouted down the hall, “And get that gross stuff off your face before you come back!”

Jason laughed then, loud and bright and filling the home he’d made with Leo. Still, he dutifully made his way to the bathroom to shave, though he did deliberately miss a tiny little patch under his jaw for Leo to pet and complain about later. Then he filled up his biggest coffee thermos, knowing he wouldn’t be given permission to leave the bed for several hours, and made his way to the bedroom, where he was welcomed in with lazy smiles and jaw-cracking yawns and luxurious, cat-like stretches. 

As always, Leo curled right up against Jason’s chest with a contented sigh. He didn’t fall asleep immediately, but he did completely melt, fiddling with the buttons on Jason’s shirt and tapping out I love you on Jason’s chest, which he returned each time with a kiss to Leo’s hair. But then he did fall asleep, right there in Jason’s arms, pressed right to Jason’s heart. In his sleep, he snored, the sound loud and grating like a chainsaw in need of a tune-up, and he drooled, and his face twisted up in weird expressions, and he managed to pin Jason’s arm in a way that kept him from drinking his coffee and almost immediately made it go numb. 

And he was beautiful. 

[eyra]

fanfic author interview tag game thing

thank you @kaaaaaaarf for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3?

29

What's your total AO3 word count?

412,030 good heavens

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

a brief history of dragons - for how much longer can she retain the top spot? beneath a big blue sky - coming for her crown statten park - ok sure the oldest recipe for parsnip soup - very chic of her to make the top 5 within 12 months sunshine on leith - no stop reading this one please

the rest is under the cut:

Do you respond to comments?

I try to hold myself to replying to any comments fics receive when they're WIPs (I gave myself a pass for the second chapter of Piglet since it was literally christmas day by this point) and then once they're completed, I reply sporadically. would love to reply to more but I have like 14 minutes free time every day.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

the proctor house aka my favourite child

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

most of them! maybe big blue sky

Do you write crossovers?

no, I'm not in any other fandoms so I wouldn't know who to play with

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not hate really. people sometimes say my characters are OOC but I think they a) just don't understand what AUs are or b) are fully ATYD-pilled and beyond rescue. it is what it is.

Do you write smut?

light smut. apart from seventeen hours and statten park which are just... smut.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

someone once took beneath a big blue sky and removed any traces of my name from it and put it in a google drive folder so people could download it for printing/binding, which is something I explicitly ask people not to do. that wasn't cute. oh and then an actual printed book of it appeared online for purchase and I became radicalised x

Have you ever had a fic translated?

no because I want to retain full control of my work (see above) and I can't do this if it's reposted by others, even in other languages

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no sorry I don't enjoy group work please just let me do it by myself

What's your all-time favourite ship?

wolfstar of course

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

see my above note re: sunshine on leith

What are your writing strengths?

descriptive prose (mainly: nature, architecture, and food) and dialogue

What are your writing weaknesses?

any kind of action. it's hard.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have not done it and I don't really have thoughts on it.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'll forever be sad that the marauders fandom doesn't have a single wlw ship that I care about. all my original work is wlw but I just..... I don't know ANY of those marauders girlies. give me someone to ship with Lily and I'll write it. I crave it. but don't say some made up name like Pandora Lovegood or whatever the kids are on about this week. you people are just MAKING STUFF UP I swear. who the hell is even Mary I honestly don't know. wasn't she Peter's absent gf in statten park. I feel like a boomer when I see posts like "omg this is sooooo Marlene McKinnon <3" like is it. is it. do we know her like that

What's your favourite fic you've written?

the proctor house - it's my best writing as far as fanfic goes. finally some good fucking food etc.

tagging anyone who fancies doing this! sorry I'm meant to be working so I'm being lazy sorry x

and also @mayescapade

[urlocalboynoah]

THIS IS NO ONE'S REQUEST, I was just bored as hell honestly, and I seriously think Miko needs more content, especially with her guardian(s). So, here's a little something as an apology for not posting in months (I lost my password..) This is probably terrible, maybe even OOC so I apologize in advance...

This was written while listening to Teenage girl, by Cherry Glazzer. You can listen to it too while reading if you want.

¹ ❥ ☆ Mini Fic²

♰ Transformers Prime³

ˋˋ SFW ☆

Teenage girl ♡

“urrrrrrrgh. “ Miko growled, sitting lazily on the chair. She was in detention again, for two whole hours, and everyone knows that for a girl such as Miko, staying two hours in the same room, doing either homework or nothing, was impossible. As the teacher looked away for a second, she pulled out her phone, sending a text into her guardian’s comms, giggling. He didn’t have to know she was in detention…

>> Class done early. Pick up ? pls

be here in five mins <<

>> thx ur the best xx

A soft smile formed on his faceplate when he read the text.

“ Miko’s done with class. I’ll go pick her up. “

Everyone either nodded or hummed in agreement, the big mech then proceeded to transform and make his way to Miko’s school. When he finally arrived in front, she was already here. He sighed softly and unlocked the door, allowing the human to jump in. As he asked how her day went and waited for her answer, he noticed the usual behavior she would have when she was hiding something from him.

Buckling her belt and making herself comfortable, knowing the ride would miraculously take way longer than the way to school, just because Bulkhead would take all kinds of “shortcuts” that would actually make the ride longer. He loved spending time with Miko, seeing her rocking her head at the songs playing. He had her playlist of favorite songs already registered. The big mech considered her family, like a sparkling he had to take care of. He’d never admit that, though.

The young girl was now waiting for the big engine to start, which never happened. She raised an eyebrow, kind of concerned something went wrong.

“Bulk ? Is your engine broken or something ? “

“ There’s something you want to tell me, but you’re not going to. “

She huffed, taking the words as an attack. But, it was actually just that she didn’t expect him to be able to read her like an open book.

“ what ?? Do you not trust me ? You know I tell you everything ! “

“ Apparently not. Did you get in trouble ? Did someone annoy you ? Who do I need to fight ?”

She stopped him right in his tracks when she heard he was ready to get in trouble just to protect her.

“ No, no no. None of that… I’m not in trouble, and you’re not fighting anyone. Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t have already anyway ! No… It’s that, uhh… I was in detention.”

The green mech sighed. He had a sneaky feeling it was something around those lines. But as he was about to give her a gentle lecture on how she should be respectful, pay attention in class and all that usual blah-blah she probably heard hundreds of times by her host parents, he decided to do the opposite. Bulkhead remembered very well how low Miko has been feeling for the past week. She’d exhaust herself on her homeworks, even ask for help if she was struggling, and not even sneaking out of the base anymore. Very unusual Miko behavior, which gave it away to her guardian. She really did try to get better, but her past got the better of her once again. Bulkhead knew old habits die hard, and sometimes, they just came back to give you a good slap as a reminder it’s not always going to be easy. He felt like this was what was happening to the poor girl at this moment. The silence being long enough, he finally spoke up.

“ You know what ? Let’s watch your show once we’re back to base.”

Too stunned to say a word, Miko stayed silent. She was expecting him to give her a whole speech about how it can’t keep on going, or she’ll fail her whole life, so that answer definitely surprised her. She just smirked and nodded softly, feeling the heavy weight on her chest drastically making it easier to breathe. As the loud sound of the starting engine finally resonated, she heard a small melody coming out of the radio. It was calm and slow, not something she’ll usually listen to.

“Erm, Bulk, what is that song? I’m practically falling asleep ! “

“ It reminds me of you. “

Miko raised an eyebrow, surprised by that answer. It sounded like such a boring song at first. When the volume went up, she listened to the lyrics. Bulkhead opened the windows, allowing the soft breeze of air to come inside and caress the girl’s hair. She relaxed her head back on the seat, and enjoyed it.

That song wasn’t all too bad after all…

EXTRA BECAUSE IM NOT SATISFIED WITH THIS END :

Hopping off of her chair the second the bell rang, the pink haired girl grabbed her bags and left, rushing through the stairs. Bulkhead being on a mission, someone else was coming to pick her up today. Someone special. She looked at every car in the parking lot, giggling when she saw him. She ran towards the car, waving, as if he could wave back. She instantly opened the door and jumped on the passenger seat. Her smile was full of joy.

“ Hey, kid. Been a while, hasn’t it ? “

“ Wheeljack ! It has ! I didn’t expect you here, I’m so happy to see you again. “

“ By the way you almost tripped while running, I could tell.”

She softly giggled, wiggling on the seat as a sign of excitement. The engine revved and they sped up on the road back to base, Miko already imagining a ton of things they could do together.

When she heard the radio turn on, she audibly gasped, her eyes glowing bright with happiness, and her smile only growing wider. The bot looked at her in the rear mirror, giggling in satisfaction. Looks like he hit right on the middle of the target. She rocked her body from side to side, and opened the window, and obviously turning the volume of the radio all the way up.

“ TEENAGE GIRL !!! “

. . . Written by Noah . . .ᐟ ☆

[leonastarry]

Hello, hello, and hello!

I got into Tumblr because of Sung Jin Woo and am now requesting for him for the first time!!

Can I request a fic where the reader is also an S-rank but still feels that Cha Hae in is better than her as she is more popular and liked by others more? Jinwoo, being her boyfriend, started to hang around Cha a bit more than usual, so she gets so upset and has a huge argument with him, going to an S-rank mission, and gets injured so badly that she goes unconscious for a week or two. Jinwoo freaks out and then showers her with kisses, hugs, and gifts, and even does not let her do any household work when she wakes up.

Sorry if this is i big ask, I just go overboard a lot. Please do delete if you do not like iit,and have a good day! <3

[ Req 12 ] Fear. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x reader

You’ve always known Cha Hae-In to be extraordinary. The famous S-rank Hunter is graceful, strong, and undeniably beautiful. People love her, admire her, and respect her in ways that make you feel like a shadow in comparison.

Even though you’re an S-rank yourself, a force to be reckoned with, doubts have been gnawing at your confidence. And lately, those doubts have turned into something darker, something you can’t ignore—because Jinwoo, your Jinwoo, has been spending more time with her.

'It’s nothing,' you tell yourself over and over again. 'They’re just working together.'

But the way he laughs at her jokes or the way she smiles at him hurts you in ways you can’t explain.

✧˖*°࿐

"Do you even realize how much time you're spending with her?" You ask, your voice hard with anger.

"I told you, she and I are just co-workers, why don't you understand?"

"Why do co-workers spend most of their time together during the week? Do you notice how unusual this is? Do you care about my feelings?"

He makes a face and his voice is annoyed. "We're just working on important missions together. It's not personal."

"It's personal!" You argue, "If you like working with her so much, why don't you just date her. She's better than me, she's the type of person everyone thinks you'd be with."

"You're right, maybe she really is better than you!" He snaps and walks out the door, slamming it shut.

✧˖*°࿐

After the argument that day, Jinwoo did not return home. You also became sad and depressed. You decided to go raid the dungeon to relieve your stress.

The S-Rank gate you took over was supposed to be simple. But things quickly spiraled out of control. A swarm of high-level monsters caught your party off guard, and despite your best efforts, you were overwhelmed.

Pain shot through your side as the claws tore through you, and you barely managed to activate your healing skill before darkness enveloped you.

Receiving news of your condition from the shadow soldier he left in your shadow, Jinwoo became dazed and frightened as he quickly used 'Shadow Exchange' to come to your location.

What he saw was you lying on the ground, bleeding from your side, while your party was still fighting the monsters. Fear and anger filled him, Jinwoo ordered his soldiers to kill all the monsters, and he quickly carried you onto Kaisel and flew as fast as he could towards the hospital.

✧˖*°࿐

When you woke up, the sterile smell of the hospital room flooded your senses. Your body felt heavy, your side wrapped in thick bandages.

"[Name]," a familiar voice called, shaking with emotion.

You turned your head to see Jinwoo sitting next to you, his hair disheveled and his eyes red. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

"You’re awake," he whispered, leaning closer, his hand clutching yours. "I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you."

His words hit you like a tsunami, and tears welled up in your eyes. "Jinwoo…"

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice choked. "I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I shouldn’t have said Cha Hae-in was better than you, I didn’t mean it. I’m a terrible idiot."

You shook your head, your voice hoarse. "I wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have doubted you."

"No," he said firmly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "You have every right to feel that way. I should have known how much this hurts you."

He leaned down, kissing your forehead, then your cheek, then your hand. "You mean everything to me, Y/N. No one else matters. Not Cha Hae-In, not anyone. Only you."

The intensity of his voice made your heart ache. "I was so scared," you admitted, tears falling freely.

"I will never let this happen again," he vowed, his grey eyes filled with determination. "I will always protect you. But more than that, I will make sure you never feel like you’re not enough. You mean everything to me, [Name]. Always." ✧˖*°࿐

After that.

For the next two weeks, Jinwoo barely left your side.

"You're going to lift a finger," he declared one morning as you tried to stand up. "I mean it."

"Jinwoo, I'm fine," you insisted, but he wouldn't have it. "No, you're still weak, rest more."

He handed you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his shadow soldiers bustling behind him, cleaning and preparing food. Gifts were piled in the corner of the room—everything from your favorite snacks to expensive jewelry.

"At this rate, I'm going to be a cripple, Jinwoo," you whined. "You're spoiling me."

"Whatever, I still love you when you're spoiled. The more spoiled the better, you're too nice to me, you should scold and hit me more."

Sorry if you wait long for your request.

And ignore the title 'cause I don't know how to name this. ._.

Hope you like this. 💗

[ctimenefic]

may i, by any chance, bribe you into some triple crown talks on this fine evening? <3 i hope you have a lovely day!

oh, Triple Crown Anon, we're really in it now

I want to give you a name, TCA, and then I want to put that name in the fic because you have been so kind to remember this project and so generous in not mentioning that time I promised it'd be done by Christmas.

I tend to hit a wall somewhere around 18k on most longer fics I attempt. Triple Crown is at 19k and I am struggling to get going on it. It's not that I don't have the plot - I do! I have the plot for the sequel, almost. But for whatever reason, crossing that 20k line is proving very hard, and there's quite a lot left to go.

However, nothing is quite as motivating as when you pop up in my inbox, TCA. I'll do some work on it this week, I swear.

Have the first scene in full (if, alas, not fully edited):

George's letter said he would be with them at noon. By quarter past eleven Alex is tired of Zoe giggling at his fidgeting and he makes a break for the stables, saddles up Prema. The ride to the end of the drive clears the tightness in his chest, and it's an easy choice to take the lanes towards Newmarket, where George will have to swap from the stage to a hired coach. 

It's not ten minutes before he hears the rattle of wheels and hooves on the dirt, and a moment later they swing round the corner into view; the smart two seater from the Old King’s Inn, a handsome bay trotting obediently, and on the seat beside the driver-

"George!" Alex calls, waving his hat as he stands in the stirrups, and perhaps he should be embarrassed at acting the schoolboy, but even at a hundred paces he can see the grin that spreads across George’s face, matching his own. 

“Albono!” comes the reply, George’s Italian accent as exaggerated as ever to Alex’s ear. 

He brings Prema round in a wide circle to fall into step beside the gig, and then he’s face to face with George, and two years of separation fall away in an instant.

That’s not to say there’s been no change in George. He’s tanned nut brown; his curls, uncropped, spill out from under the brim of his hat; and his coat, cut to what must be the latest London fashion, hugs broader shoulders than Alex remembers. But the same eyes are glinting with mirth, and his voice is still rich with muddy East Anglian vowels. 

“You didn’t say you were riding out to meet me! Were you worried I’d forgotten the way?”

“Well, you somehow spent three months longer than expected in Vienna, heavens knows how long you could have whiled away in Newmarket without some prompting,” Alex responds, careful to keep his tone teasing.

“God’s own turf, tis true,” George vows, hand to his heart. “But I’d hope after twenty years of faithful devotion, it won’t begrudge me three months.” He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, swipes it with the very tip of his tongue, a nervous gesture so familiar Alex must have seen it a thousand times. 

“I’m sure Newmarket will forgive you everything if you promise to lose another fortune at Craven’s meet,” he teases, grin widening at the way George’s flush rises through his tan. He has to race on to avoid the old riposte to that particular jab. “I wasn’t riding out to meet you, as it happens. Prema’s been penned up since foaling, she needed a run to stretch her legs.”

It’s a lie, of course, but suddenly the idea he couldn’t have waited another half an hour after so long seems profoundly embarrassing.

“Is she one of your racers?” Bless him, for all George can pledge his troth to Newmarket, it’s a miracle he knows one end of a horse from another. As if Alex would have a racehorse in foal so close to the season. On George’s other side, he sees the gig driver’s cheek twitch before he settles back into deaf stoicism. 

“Used to be, half a dozen years back.” Not a winner of any note, but capable of a fine run in the right conditions. 

“Good, you’ll need a fast ride.”

“Why?”

George leans across the foot of space that separates them, grin impossibly wide. “Because your mother will have your head if you’re not there to receive me as man of the household, and we just passed the mile marker.”

The cad’s laugh chases him down the lane. A gallop barely gets him to the stables before the gig is through the gates; there’s certainly no time to change. He has to settle for slinging his jacket over his arm in a bid to cool down and stop the sweat springing around the line of his cravat. Even so, when he turns the corner from the stables to the front of the house, George is already delivering a neat bow to his mother and sisters, arranged like dolls on the steps to the door. 

At the sight of him every trace of the gracious hostess drops from Lady Albon’s face. “Alexander!”

“Mama,” he offers, trying to ignore how George’s mouth has twisted to keep from laughing. 

If anything her glare gets sharper. “You will offer your apologies to our guest.”

Still on the steps, Bitbit has broken, laughing helplessly into her wrist.

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Mama, it’s George!” But in a battle of wills against his mother, Alex has no hope. He heaves a sigh and offers George an obsequious bow. “Mr Russell, please excuse my poor manners. I can only attribute it to the absence of better influences in my formative years.” 

It’s worth the smack to the back of the head to watch George snort. 

“It is wonderful to have you with us again, Mr Russell. I hope once you have fully rested from your travels, we may see you here again in time for the racing? Then you shall have to stay a month at least, instead of a single night. So much travel, but then you young men have a great deal more energy-”

Alex expects George to panic as his mama captures his arm with the firm grip of a society diamond and propels him into the house. That's how it's always been with George, too conscious that he comes from Norwich trade, and not whatever line of Crusading knights ended up plonking the Albon name on this small patch of Suffolk. 

But there’s no forced grin, no darting glance his way. Instead, George is the perfect, confident gentleman, nodding graciously, humming a note of agreement. Alex feels wrongfooted, watching them go, arm in arm.

"Don't worry, Lex, she'll have to let him go eventually, you'll have plenty of time to run off and play at highwaymen." Alicia takes his arm with a knowing smile and Zoe pens him in on the other side. "But first: has he brought presents?"

“You'd have to ask hi-” And they're off, all pretence of genteel manners forgotten as they scamper towards the drawing room. Alex hasn't the heart to point out all of George's luggage is still in the gig. 

Once he follows, he finds George practically pinned to the mantelpiece by all the eyes on him.

“You have to tell us all about Rome, Mr Russell-”

“But Venice first. Lord Byron was in Venice. Did you see him? Is he truly mad? Is he as handsome as they say? He doesn’t look handsome in the latest editions, but Alicia thought perhaps the engraver held a grudge-”

“What about Vienna? The court there is the height of elegance, I heard. Are they recovered from the wars? We were so anxious that you were on the Continent when Napoleon took the field again, Zoe was sure you would be killed-”

“I was not, Mr Russell, I had every confidence in you-

“Even though Alex assured us you were in Rome by then, it is not so far from France as we would have liked. And it was cruel of you to write only to Alex when we were all of us so concerned.”

It’s news to Alex that his sisters were quite as worried as that - he remembers Alicia and Zoe spending most of Spring 1815 mutinous about the sudden departure of every dashing officer in the south of England. Bitbit and Luca had, at least, listened when Alex read George’s well wishes to the family at the breakfast table. 

Still, he’s not going to contradict them when George is flushing with pleased bashfulness at the attention. “I was perfectly safe, I assure you. I can only apologise for not writing more, but I included my good wishes for each of you in every letter to your brother.”

“And I was a faithful messenger, I promise. Come on, at least let the man have luncheon before you interrogate him on every detail of the last two years.” 

His mama starts, as though the meal she’s been thinking about for two days straight (“Alex, do you think young George might have lost his appetite for sweetpeas on the Continent? They have such strange habits there”) had slipped her mind. 

She bustles them through to the dining room in short order, and for all she might have started calling him ‘Mr Russell’, like one of Zoe’s hapless suitors, it’s clear Alex’s mama still remembers little Georgie. Lunch is a spread of all his favourites, and Alex catches the way George’s polite smile softens as he realises, colour creeping up from under his collar. When he meets Alex’s eyes across the table, there’s the faintest sheen to them. 

Alex has to hide his fond smile back in his wineglass.

[creetchure]

maybe kind of a hot take but like. you guys have GOT to become normal about addicts right now. both in real life and in fiction by the way.

if you can read about the effects of kidnapping/dehumanisation/medical abuse/what have you for your whump fic, you can damn right read some first person accounts of addicts talking about their shit online and do the bare minimum of research into the topic. you guys are way too comfortable going around slinging words and using this shit for angst points, in a way that i really don't see much with any other topic. i don't know, maybe i don't read the right kind of fic in the right kind of fandom, but it really feels like you guys take withdrawal, maybe a little bit of the original hurt, and that's it. if you're gonna mention it off handedly once in what you're writing, fine. but you can't make it the center of your fic without a modicum of research, and a modicum of respect for the real people going through it.

contrary to what seems to be popular belief, most addicts don't just do drugs for shits and giggles and there's a difference between recreational drug use and addiction. a wild fucking difference. smoking a couple of joints of popping a couple of party pills for fun is not the same. you guys know that right?

anyway, if you're gonna write about addiction. at least. at least bother looking at the most common side effects of an addiction, yeah? just for you, i'll write some down here (disclaimer, this is written in one go, is not in the least comprehensive, and doesn't account for the variety of the human experience) (this isn't a guide):

financial jeaopardy: drugs are expensive. sometimes you'll pick drugs over food. sometimes youll pick drugs over shelter.

your social life might take a blow, even if people don't notice you have an addiction. you might blow off plans to get high, might isolate yourself either out of shame or out of annoyance.

your physical health takes a toll regardless of the drugs effect on the body. chances are your sleeping and eating habits will take a blow

this one seems obvious, but there's a real dependence. not just physically either, but an emotional one as well. especially when taken from a place of mental unrest, drugs become an emotional crutch. getting sober is dealing with more than physical symptoms i can't stress this enough

there's also financial stress. will you be able to pay for your next dose? how about the one that comes after that? what will you even do if you can't pay? etcetc. this comes with financial jeopardy, but it's not the same, there's a very real fear that can lead people to do many things in order to assage it.

this is not necessarily something that goes away as soon as you get sober either btw. you might carry that fear, even subconsiouly, in the "what if i need a dose some day" folder of your brain for a long while

a lot of people don't quit cold turkey, or don't quit entirely. often just going off the stuff isn't an option, whether that be because physical symptoms are too bad and dangerous or because it would do too much psychological harm. going from hard drugs to smoking a pack a day is a huge win.

even when sober some shit might trigger you. shoutout to people who've gotten sober once and never relapsed but that's not everyone. depending on why you got addicted in the first place, it'll happen more or less often, and people will be able to cope with trigger better or worse, but a relapse is not the end of the line. at all.

there's a lot of other shit i can't think of at the top of my head. there's some stuff about how friends and families might react that i don't feel like talking about. there's shit about the recovery process that you can look at yourself. but please for the love of god. go look at it.

one last thing. you can't treat all substances the same. the effects on the body and mind aren't the same. you have to figure out what your character's substance of choice is and stick with it. figure out how expensive it is, figure out how safe it is, etc etc. you can't make someone who does acid be the same as someone who takes laughing gaz. not the same substance. and also don't forget that there are MANY things one might take for a high that don't even register in your mind (paint. glue. certain brands of cough syrup. etc.)

[luvismenu]

hey everyone, i want to let you know that i’ve decided to take down my tech bf mini series. it was brought to my attention that it was similar to fics by my friend and fellow writer @muniimyg ,, after discussing it with her, i reflected on the similarities and agreed.

i want to be clear that this was unintentional, i did not plagiarize kimi’s works. i always put my own thoughts and creativity into everything i write, and i have reasonable explanations for all of my stories and ideas. i always try to make my fics different. i feel really terrible for having to take it down, and i’m sorry for any disappointment it may have caused.

however, i also respect my friend because i do see the resemblance now and i take accountability for it and again, i really, really respect & love kimi and her works. i consider her one of my favourite writers and also a great friend, and i don't think i'd ever intentionally hurt her. i never want to make her or anyone feel uncomfortable or disrespected, and i hope this decision shows my sincerity in resolving the situation.

thank you for your understanding and for supporting me as i learn and grow. i’ll continue to work hard to bring you original stories that i can stand behind with pride.

and i might need to take a step back and breathe for a bit. i’ll answer your asks once i’m fully calm and able to respond thoughtfully. and i kindly request you to be a little more civil with your asks.

— luvi

[brostateexam]

ok, im well out of the loop with cassie clare, i havent read one of her books in at least 10 years, but i was big on her as a teenager. did she start off as a fic author? (that wouldn't surprise me) or did she just straight up plagiarise a bunch of shit?

The answer to this question is: both!

I will start off by saying: All of this is to the best of my recollection. This is not a perfect accounting of events. If you really, really want to know, I'm sure there are people who are like actual fandom scholars and archivists who will get it all right, but that is very not me.

And on the offchance that any lawyer is reading this: Please consider all of this as a recollection of events that happened. Not trying to defame anyone here, just talking about events that already occurred. Anything mentioned about the author in question that is not a recollection of past events is speculative and should be taken as such.

Cassie Clare did indeed start off as a fic author. She was decently prolific and wrote a lot for a very big fandom at the time, Harry Potter. She wrote a series (Draco trilogy, had names like Draco Dormiens) that was very, very popular. Presumably many modern readers are now reaching for rotten tomatoes or airsick bags as applicable, but this was circa 2000-2005(ish?), so the attitude toward HP was different back then, to say the least. Her stuff was put up on a fansite that was dedicated to HP only on like a featured page, which was basically reserved for decent writers and big name fans that the fansite runner knew and liked.

All of these people have names and are findable, but I don't remember them because it has been decades.

Draco Dormiens and or the others in the series were at the center of this controversy, and I think that with the benefit of time, it did not age well, but it was very of the time, and people loved the idea of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny as articulate, witty, hot older teens being rich and glamorous and magical and cool. Keep in mind, we gotta rewind the clock here. I remember the plagiarism controversy really gaining steam in early 2003, so at this time about 4 or 5 of the books were out and the main people reading them were teenagers and college kids, not the 30- or 40-somethings going to the theme park that you see on the internet now. So this was wildly popular and it's probably not hard to understand why.

Her popularity took a hit when she began to be accused of plagiarism, and when it didn't immediately recede it become a full on controversy. This was a big accusation to level, because she was very popular and very well-liked, and was friends with a lot of other authors who were also popular and well-liked, who largely speaking had her back. Finally, after the furor grew and grew, she acknowledged the controversy and made a statement that amounted to something like: "Okay, I thought it was pretty clear that I was just making references to popular TV shows by stealing dialog from episodes word for word, but I'll attribute everything I use in this way from now on, and I will also go back and add attribution for everything I used in this way."

This was a very savvy way of dealing with the accusations, because it was true that she was doing this (largely lifting stuff from Buffy and from Babylon 5, as I recall) and it was also true that if you were a fan of either show and read her fics, you could absolutely see that she was doing this and take it as a send-up or reference, not as plagiarism. This gave her friends and fans an out, a way to say to people "okay we get it, she acknowledged it and added attribution, can you shut up now?"

Except that wasn't actually the extent of it. Cassie Clare, well known for her super cool magical concepts she introduced in her Draco trilogy, was lifting those from a then out-of-print fantasy series by Pamela Dean. And it wasn't just ideas that she was lifting wholesale and not bothering to change the names of. She was also copying out whole paragraphs and pages, secure in the knowledge that you couldn't buy the books anymore, so it wasn't like she could get nailed by someone picking up the book at a Barnes & Noble and going "hey, wait a sec."

Except, perhaps not surprisingly, a lot of people who like fanfiction for Harry Potter also like fantasy as a genre, and people absolutely clocked some of her lazier plagiarism, because it was seriously word for word, sometimes for paragraphs.

This ultimately led to her getting banned for plagiarism from fanfic.net lol and the entire Draco trilogy was removed.

I think the lesson she took from this may have been the wrong one, and I fear it may have been that if you copy stuff and are popular enough, you can get away with it for years, so keep copying. Her entire career she's been accused of plagiarism, for both for her YA series and for her new series. I can't say if any of the subsequent allegations were true or not. Personally, I'm inclined to believe the claims simply because she has a history of doing it, doing it shamelessly, and lying about it or at least obscuring the full truth back in her fanfic era.

Anyway, I'd like to conclude this by saying if you really like her stuff and want to keep reading it or whathaveyou, I don't think that has a particular moral valence. I believe people in their 20s mostly know her for Shadowhunters, and from what I've gleaned it's about hot people in their 20s being glamorous and magical and witty and rich, and that's a winning formula now just like it was a generation ago. The person who should bear the burden of not being a plagiarist is the author, not the audience.

Hope this was informative, and thanks for asking!

[rweoutofthewoods]

hiii. This is kinda a uh ridiculous question but i really wanna write a Jegulus fic! And I have the idea for it but I'm scared I don't have the talent? And part of me is thinking to write another fic now and write the one I want later so it can be better and I have like a "practice" fic and part of me just wants to say fuck it because I love the idea I have, but because I love the idea I wanna do it justice. And I'm just wondering if you've ever struggled like that or have any advice 😭

Hi!

So there’s a few things I wanna tell you so stick with me.

1. Fanfic is the one place where there’s zero god given talent or skill required! There’s no standard for your work, there’s no grade you’re working for or levels you have to meet ! You have the freedom to write the silliest least effort thing or put all ur time and effort into crafting something! no judgement! Most people aren’t looking for a professional level piece of workor going to judge you! They just want to read about their fave characters and they’ll appreciate you for putting that time in no matter what.

2. don’t let things as silly as your own perception of your talent scare you away, that’s subjective anyway! And I assure you we’re never subjective when it comes to ourselves, so there’s no use even dwelling on talent, it’s an abstract sort of thing you can’t measure or nail down anyway!

3. In that vein!! If you are worried about your writing skills or experience the only way to gain confidence and comfort with it is by writing!! So don’t hold yourself back, say fuck it and go for it! Write what you’re excited about because that excitement will drive you forward and motivate you to work on it more. And the more you work on it, the more you’ll gain an internal compass for what works and what doesn’t in writing and become more self assured!

Moral of the story, go for it! And don’t set roadblocks for yourself by being too hard on yourself.

There are definitely a few fics of my own like anti-hero or pathological people pleaser that I feel similarly to ur worries. I wasn’t quite skilled enough yet to do them total justice BUT I wouldn’t even feel that way if I hadn’t written them in the first place you know? It’s all a circle. I had to write those things then to get to the writer I am today, and maybe I could do better now, but that’s BECAUSE I had the practice with those fics, and I don’t regret writing them when I did at all. I just have a better toolbox now because of them to do better in everything else I write. every fic grows my expertise and I can be proud of that without regretting or being ashamed of the steps it took to get me here.

Hope this helps a bit!! 🩷

[kaisturntoshine]

OMG I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED WHAT I HAD TO SAY!!

Another thing I forgot to say in my original response is that I am so glad you mentioned Wolfgang's first interaction with Desmond, because it honestly rubbed me off the wrong way even on my first playthrough of the prologue. And in Chapter 1, what he said to Desmond about consulting him first?? Yeah, Lawyerman never trusted him.

I think that interaction also really showcases the idea that Desmond reacts calmly to others' accussations of him, because he can't afford to do anything else, lest he confirms the others' poor impression of him. He was clearly uncomfortable with Wolfgang's suggestion, but couldn't really do much about him. (Plus, like you mentioned, even though he clearly wanted to pick his roomate, he didn't openly object to the others' idea).

Now that you mention it, the Ingrid thing is just?? so true?? I've been thinking since the start that Ingrid, despite being a sweetheart, is also quite dangerous (perhaps even the most dangerous) in terms of her capabilities, but I hadn't made the connection with the hypocrisy of everyone being suspicious of Desmond because of his talent but not her...

To be honest, I'm a little worried for Desmond. I don't think the devs would kill him off so early in the game (perhaps they won't even kill him at all?? I girl can only dream), so it's not so much me being worried about him dying, but moreso about whether the other characters will be more wary of him and how that will affect him (I don't wanna see him sad) (Eloise, better get ready to stand up for your man). I could see someone like Grace giving him a hard time.

I'll be waiting for logos-pathos-ethos analysis, if you do end up writing one!! Rhetorics and their different styles will probably be an important element of the game and story, since Damon is a debater (I wonder if Kai will play a role in this, being an influencer and all... Eh, I don't know. Just one more thing for me to talk about in my >2000 words Kai analysis (I want to finish it soon but writer's block is a pain...)).

Anyways, once again I loved your analysis so much!! It's so hard to find something so well written, moreso for characters like Desmond and Eloise who haven't received the love they deserve yet!

PS: I also read your Desmond x Eloise fics (help what's their ship name :') ) and they actually made me ship them even more (I commented as demima286) <3

The Interweaving of Desmond & Eloise

an analysis on how they have been established as a pair

Collection of all essays so far

At the stage we are currently at, the end of chapter one with around thirteen hours of content to watch and even more outside of direct canon to examine, Desmond and Eloise have established themselves as a pair in a similar vein to Damon and Eva or Mark and Jett. Their pairing feels obviously deliberate and indicative of deeper meaning, which we’ll no doubt see more of as the game proceeds. In this essay I want to cohesively lay out all of my current thoughts on them - developed from TikTok posts I have made (x / x / x) with other newer points from my notes that do not appear in said posts. 

While I personally enjoy their relationship in a romantic context, this is not intended as a ship post, and you are of course free to interpret it how you like. It’s just looking at how they relate to each other as characters and their canon relationship and giving my thoughts on what that means for them! Regardless of how you interpret the context of their relationship, that these two are being set up as close is undeniable.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER ONE AHEAD!

Firstly, I want to establish the significance of pairs in Project: Eden’s Garden overall. So much about the game circles back to pairs: the killing game ‘officially’ ending when only two remain, everyone waking up in pairs, Toshiko being the Ultimate Matchmaker, Tozu and Mara being a pair, bunking in pairs, splitting off into pairs… and much of this can be put down to the theming of the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. With everyone’s animal motifs, another Biblical story in Noah’s Ark comes to mind. The point is that the abundance of pairs is both relevant and very deliberate. 

Fundamental design

From the moment we first see them in the train CG, Desmond and Eloise are together. When we first formally meet them, they are the only ones in the courtyard. They are a pair from the beginning in the same way as Mark and Jett and Wolfgang and Grace. 

And, on first looks and first meetings, I’ll begin my thoughts on how they as individual characters relate to each other as foils with their visual designs and names. Being fictional characters, there was an entire design process filled with intent that went into creating them, and I really think Desmond and Eloise were created with the other in mind to make them both contrast and complement each other. 

Their contrasting colour schemes of blue and black VS red and white immediately relate them to one another and put them in proximity of one another. Through their colour schemes they have been designed to be seen next to each other. 

It is also their colour schemes that give instant insight into how they contrast each other in personality. Desmond’s blue suits his cool, composed disposition, his observant nature and how, although he is more reserved, he still integrates with the group and is a primary contributor. Throughout the situation and throughout all the suspicion he endures based on his talent, Desmond remains calm, in part, I think, because he knows he cannot afford to appear angry lest it confirm people’s biases. Considering how prominent that idea of prejudice has been with Desmond so far, I also heavily doubt him being designed as Black is coincidental or without connotations. Especially when you consider just how irrational the suspicion and assumptions placed upon him are. 

(Desmond’s third Free Time Event, talking about how difficult a confined space like the academy is for him) Damon, internally: And yet, that cool demeanour of his never falters - even when talking about his situation. Is this what he means when he talks about discipline…?

Conversely, Eloise’s red speaks to her being more volatile - prone to outbursts of fear, panic and, notably, rage. It is interesting to me that Eloise’s colour scheme is primarily white/grey, with her reds as secondary and, in her clothing, beneath her uniform. But her eyes, the “windows to the soul”, are red. Eloise at first impression seems only timid, and this leads both characters and audience alike to assume that she is weak, and she is also reserved and rather closed off especially in conversation with the likes of Damon. But Eloise has a strong fortitude that manifests later in chapter one as she gains confidence in the setting - standing up to and threatening Grace, leading the accusations towards Grace in the trial, and her Free Time Events most notably. Her red is closed off until triggered. Damon notes that “the most confident she’s ever sounded” is when she’s expressing her belief that the runners of the killing game should receive the death penalty which so starkly contrasts with Desmond’s focus on resolving things peacefully. Similarly to Desmond being Black, I also heavily doubt that Eloise being designed as fat is without connotations regarding this theme.

The meanings of their names push this even more blatantly. Desmond’s name is of Anglo-Saxon origin and means “Great defender” which adds to how spelled out the theme of guarding, protection, defence becomes in his character during chapter one - notably in relation to himself and Eloise. In his blackmail, which I will go into in more detail later, it explicitly says he “guards the only one he trusts”. This defence finds contrast with offence in Eloise’s name being of French and Teutonic origin meaning “Fierce warrior” which speaks to how assertive she becomes when pushed. Her Free Time Events serve as good indication with how she says outright to Damon that she plans to fight back if targeted for murder and expresses anger when he starts “prying into [her] personal life” in an outburst of “It’s none of your f-fucking business!”. Down to their names they present as foils.

Linking to this talk on personalities and first impressions is how these two contrast in how they are perceived by other characters and audience alike - their shared theme of “judging a book by its cover”. 

While Eloise has a talent centred around combat and wielding a blade, she is not nearly suspected the same way Desmond is due to her appearance as pale and soft in conjunction with her timidity, with the decision to make her fat adding to this as well. She is actually afforded first impressions based on personality, where Desmond is instead defined by potential threat in his marksmanship - the first thing Wolfgang ever says to him is, “With all of those weapons, I must ask…you…haven’t killed anyone, have you?”, and Eva’s belief that everyone is out to get her and have marked her as an easy target merges with preconceived notions about Desmond’s character and talent to lead her to assert that telling Desmond about his blackmail could “put [her] in danger”.  Contrasingly, in building up to their confrontation of Grace, Damon perceives Eloise as “bumbling”, “uncoordinated”, and not of “any help in a verbal shutdown”, and he proceeds to be utterly proven wrong - with the use of “uncoordinated” in reference to the Ultimate Fencer giving great indication of his poor judge of character. This contrast, then, makes it notable how they stick together and understand each other in a way others do not. 

(RE his bunking idea: Eloise understands what Desmond’s intentions are while others assume ill of him) Cassidy: I mean - hey, don’t expose us! That’s unfair! Desmond: Hold on, I’m not trying to expose anyone…! Eloise: Um, I think I get what he’s trying to say. Eloise: You just want everyone to be honest with each other…so we can cover all our bases…right? Desmond: Yeah…that’s right… (During the chapter one investigation as Grace guards Wolfgang’s room and denies everyone entry) Desmond: That’s what I tried telling everyone else, but they pretty much gave up. Jett and Mark went to the dining hall, Diana went to the laundry room, and Toshiko and Ingrid went to the courtyard.  Desmond: Eloise and I, though…we’re not gonna let this slide.

When going through their Free Time Events, it becomes clear that Desmond and Eloise even contrast each other when it comes to their backgrounds and honing of their talents. Desmond comes from a notably wealthy family who have a history of Ultimate Marksmen - that talent being as hereditary as literal genetics. From the start, Desmond has been showered in opportunity - he mentions having an expansive field that puts the academy’s courtyard to shame, a personal shooting range, a personal tennis court, and a personal swimming pool. He used to attend competitions on a local and regional scale until he got the opportunity to compete in the Olympics. 

Comparatively, Eloise had no such influence when it came to getting into fencing and simply joined a club and her honing of her talent was defined by a lack of opportunity. She rose through the ranks via forfeits - her opponents were so afraid they point-blank refused to fight her and so she had to take matters of improving into her own hands by practicing alone or with her teacher. Her lack of opportunity stems from how her family is certainly not as well-off as Desmond’s and she comments on giving her prize money to her mother and sisters. This is a point of similarity between the two - they both disregard the money they have earned through their talent for themselves and instead place focus on their families. Desmond cares more about making his parents proud, and Eloise cares more about giving the money to her family. 

Beyond every aspect in how Desmond and Eloise foil each other is how similar thematically they are in a way that allows them to understand and trust one another in a way they don’t seem to lend to anyone else. They understand that the other is perceived by strangers in a way that doesn’t necessarily align with their fully realised selves, Desmond’s calmness soothes Eloise’s volatility, Eloise’s sword takes the front while Desmond’s guns and bows take the rear - they are an inversion of each other and interwoven as a pair.

To finish off with their fundamental designs, official art for Project: Eden’s Garden is, in my opinion, interesting to look at. Desmond and Eloise are depicted next to or interacting in some way with each other in every piece of official art they share which pushes them further as a ‘pair’. It really emphasises how rarely in-game they’re apart - with the only instances of that being during nighttime, every free-time after the first one, and most prominently the Prologue’s investigation. Otherwise, they are always at least in the proximity of each other. I don’t think official art and seeing which characters appear together the most and how exactly they are interacting is insignificant at all - two sets of Halloween official art stand out to me as entwining Desmond and Eloise by their talents. In one, Desmond is dressed as Link from the Legend of Zelda and wielding a blade and, in the other, Eloise is dressed as Artemis from Greek Mythology - the Goddess of the Hunt who was known for her archery, a choice that becomes especially interesting once you remember that Artemis’ fellow archer brother, Apollo, was heavily associated with swans. 

Blackmail, blackmail

“With his weapons at hand, Desmond guards the only one he trusts.”

Since I posted my initial interpretations of this on TikTok, I’ve seen more discussion on it, and I don’t think it is controversial at all to suggest that the “only one” referred to here is Eloise. The only other options, to me, are this “only one” being someone outside of our main cast or Desmond himself. However, I have found myriad evidence that points towards it being Eloise that I’ve spread across different videos on TikTok but can now relay all in one place here. 

First, what is meant by “weapons”? As the Ultimate Marksman, Desmond has access to guns and bows in the literal meaning of that and this is how Eva, Damon and everyone else interprets it. It is also true - Desmond is always depicted with his quiver slung over his back, so he does indeed have his weapons at hand. However, there is another way of looking at this - Desmond’s “weapons” do not have to be literal. 

During chapter one’s trial, Grace admonishes everyone for “trusting Desmond so easily” after he defends himself from accusations based on the taser gun and Damon has the option of commenting on Desmond’s charisma that persuades people to trust him (or… “charm” as he puts it). Desmond’s “weapons” could refer to his rhetoric, especially with how he utilises the angle of ethos in comparison with Damon’s logos and Diana’s pathos - that being, focusing on getting across and defending his character, something that as previously discussed Desmond is exhaustively used to doing. His “guard” could manifest in him coming to this “only one”’s defence in verbal bouts just as much as it can be taken literally, something that we have in fact already seen if you subscribe to the idea of that person being Eloise.

Next, the meaning of “trusts” should be dug into. It is easy to assume that because Desmond behaves cordially with everyone and seems to possess a vested interest in getting everyone out of the killing game and to safety this means he is openly trusting in the way Diana is, but there is a lot once you start looking that proves otherwise. Desmond does not vehemently deny the possibility of murder like Wolfgang or Diana do but instead accepts the reality of their situation and approaches it with the knowledge of murder in his mind. He is against exploring the Alpha Sanctuary due to whatever Tozu has hidden within it, he takes note of the dangers of the pharmacy and what drugs could possibly be used to murder - even saying that “we should all start paying more attention to our food” - and is the one to come up with the bunk buddies idea due to the broken locks. Desmond does not trust that his peers absolutely will not be tempted by murder. Most illuminating is during his second Free Time Event when Damon tries to use the trustworthiness of the other students as a debate topic and Desmond becomes noticeably uneasy and closed off. 

Damon: How about… we debate the trustworthiness of the other students? Desmond: Huh…? What do you mean? Damon: Isn’t it self-explanatory? You and I argue about whether or not the others are trustworthy. Desmond: Uh… I don’t know, dude. I’m not really comfortable with that. Damon: Why? Desmond: W-what do you mean why? I can’t just say my… (own emphasis) Desmond: I mean, I can’t just throw doubt at people for no reason. 

Despite this, he still wants said peers to trust him. His motivation to escape the killing game and prevent murder, I believe, is genuine - however, he remains beneath the veil of hypocrisy in how he expects everyone to trust him without him trusting them. 

So, how does this link to Eloise? 

From the prologue, the theme of Eloise and Desmond being each other’s alibis and backing each other up is established. Wolfgang asks Desmond to keep a shaken Eloise company and he does so for the duration of all the other introductions. When the fake body of Cara is discovered, Eloise insists that she heard no screaming from the courtyard nor did anyone run out, and calls on Desmond to back her up, which he does. This is the first exchange of trust and reliance between them, and it only strengthens during chapter one. 

The first major instance is in relation to Desmond’s idea of sleeping in pairs. Knowing his distrust towards his peers and that he has this one person he has an interest in protecting, it is notable both that he would be the one to raise concerns about the broken locks and that he would proceed to input that, “As the one who suggested the idea, I’d say we just pick our buddies ourselves-”. Desmond wanted to choose his bunk buddy, ostensibly so he would be able to more readily “guard” them, and this, I think, is crucial as evidence that the “only one he trusts” is someone among the class. While he doesn’t respond outwardly negatively to Toshiko’s desire to be in charge of the pairs and Ingrid’s subsequent assertion that they split by gender, this is easily explained by how intent he is on maintaining a calm disposition. 

Eloise’s behaviour in this scene is equally noteworthy. She defends Desmond from accusations that he’s making people vulnerable and that she harkens to ideas of honesty and understanding Desmond’s intentions speaks to a building closeness between them. Much like Desmond, Eloise appears selective with her trust through how focus is repeatedly placed on her as ways to assign bunk-buddies is discussed, combined with how her character profile notes how she is “always ready to make her escape if anyone gets too close to her”, which I believe can be applied in both a literal-in-regards-to-fencing and figurative sense. We can discern from her Free Time Events that Eloise holds her privacy close to her and that she has certain people that she openly does not trust nor like - she doesn’t want to have a decision like who is going to be with her at her most vulnerable just chosen for her. 

Toshiko: Fear not! In all my infinite wisdom and kindness, I shall pair the rest of you! Eloise: Ah… that’s not really necessary… (...) Ingrid: Strangers’ll usually be more comfortable spending the night with the same gender. Eloise: Then… we’re splitting it by gender…? (...) Wolfgang: We won’t have Ms. Kayura’s help, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Let’s go. Eloise: … 

Furthermore, it does not feel at all coincidental that the scene directly after Desmond’s blackmail is revealed by Eva sees Grace pressuring Eloise to hand over her blackmail and Desmond attempting to defend Eloise before she reassures him. Eloise’s silence after Grace says that she better not have shown anyone speaks volumes - from the map during Free Time and their alibis for the time of Wolfgang’s murder alike we can explicitly see the amount of time these two have been spending around each other in the courtyard.

Grace: That fencer girl has been giving me the side-eye ever since the blackmail was announced. There’s no other explanation! Grace: Give it! Desmond: H-hey, stop that! Eloise: It’s okay…I’ve got it…

On the morning of Wolfgang’s murder, Desmond and Eloise spent all their time together in that courtyard, paralleling their positioning in the prologue. Just as then, they are each other’s alibis and they are the main one backing the other up. They proceed to stay by the other’s side literally throughout the investigation and figuratively throughout the trial. It is notable that textually Grace and Kai underscore how defensive Eloise and Desmond have been of each other throughout chapter one’s investigation and trial to accuse them of working together - ostensibly, Desmond being the murderer and Eloise his accomplice. When the two of them and Damon confront Grace during the investigation, they are largely backing each other up and adding to each other’s points while Damon chips in on his own - even going as far as to threaten Grace, knowing that she was shot at by Mara before.

Eloise: Um…for us to believe that, we need to see it ourselves… Grace: You think I’m lying? Desmond: There’s a chance you could be, unfortunately.  (...) Eloise: Also, um…couldn’t this be considered breaking the rules…? Eloise: Tozu wants this game to be fair, but… being prevented from searching every room doesn’t seem very fair… Grace: …Even if it isn’t, what are you gonna do? Eloise: … Eloise: I’ll…report it to Tozu. Grace: A-ah? Desmond: Nice idea. What do you say we look for him now? Desmond: If Tozu agrees this is sabotage, he might call Mara to help…

In the trial, when Eloise first accuses Grace, Desmond backs her. When Grace’s innocence is proven and Eloise apologises for accusing her, Desmond continues to press Grace when she shouts at Eloise by insisting she “must know something about [Wolfgang’s] last known whereabouts”. When Desmond brings up the golf clothes and equipment in Wolfgang’s room, Eloise backs him. When Mark accuses Desmond of having access to weapons like the taser gun, Eloise reacts before Desmond does. During the nonstop debate about the taser gun, Eloise brings up her and Desmond’s shared alibi as they were together the whole morning. If the player takes the Pathos Route during the trial, it is Eloise’s voicing of her doubts in voting Diana and wanting to hear her side of the story that then leads into Desmond’s own agreement to hear her out. This series of events, I think, proves a degree of trust that has built between the two that they have not extended to anyone else - even during Eva’s execution and Diana’s speech, the two are depicted together. 

The nature of Desmond’s blackmail combined with how he and Eloise are written in this chapter as consistent supporters of each other and consistently shown together leads me to be rather firm in my belief at the moment that Eloise is this “only one” his blackmail refers to. Their relationship is given as much focus as Damon and Kai and Wolfgang and Grace, which indicates the importance of it and really, really doesn’t bode well for their survival. My personal speculation at this current moment sees Eloise killing in self-defence, in which instance we will see Desmond’s ‘guard’ come to fruition. 

Sharks and swans

It can’t be a P:EG analysis without looking at the characters’ animal motifs - especially with how chapter one confirmed their relevance with the focus on Wolfgang, Eva and Diana in particular!

Desmond’s animal motif is a shark as represented by his shark’s tooth earring and this is immediately notable in tying into the dominating theme of prejudice and “judging a book by its cover” that has presented itself in contrasting ways in his and Eloise’s characters. Desmond being instinctively assumed to be dangerous and a ‘threat’ due to his position as the Ultimate Marksman directly correlates to how sharks are perceived in the media and, by extension, society. One way his shark motif is relevant lies in how it conveys this theme of being misunderstood. 

As previously noted, the first thing Wolfgang ever says to Desmond is an interrogative question about whether or not he has killed someone before, it does not take any amount of mental gymnastics for Eva and Damon to agree Desmond’s blackmail makes him dangerous, and it does not take much convincing for the majority during the trial to agree on his likelihood of murdering Wolfgang due to the taser gun originating from his room. Surely, we are instantly reminded of how sharks are similarly misunderstood as obvious killers due to how they have been negatively sensationalised by the media - leading to a general consensus in society to view them as an inherent threat. 

“Sharks have been vilified in human culture for centuries, and negative attitudes toward sharks continue to pervade mass media, perpetuating stereotypes, often conveying inaccurate information [7–11]. One way the public’s fear of sharks, which resonates deeply and viscerally, manifests itself is a pervasive overestimation of the likelihood of being ‘attacked’” (Andrew Nosal et al, 2016, The Effect of Background Music in Shark Documentaries on Viewers' Perceptions of Sharks, p.2)

Eva asserts that Desmond finding out about her having his blackmail could make her a target and, generally, the other characters are quick to assume ill intention from him. For example, him bringing up how everyone’s locks to their dorms are broken raises accusations of him exposing people and him testing people’s locks sparks similar reaction - with Wolfgang even denying him future agency by saying Desmond should go to him first. 

Desmond’s shark motif combines with how his talent is perceived to beg us as viewers to deconstruct assumptions of him being this ticking time bomb waiting to explode - to pick apart preconceived notions, examine what makes you think that way and why. It is simultaneously fascinating and frustrating to see predictions from fans about how the rest of the game will play out position Desmond as an ‘obvious’ killer due to his marksmanship and because his animal motif is an apex predator painted as a “man-eating monster” by the media, ignoring how his talent has been handled thus far and contributing to the dominating narrative about sharks that does not reflect reality. 

The majority of shark attacks on humans are results of curiosity bites on the shark’s end or mistaking humans for, say, seals. In personifying sharks and acting as if they have the same moral decision making as humans and go out of their way to maim and kill, they have become severely endangered themselves. In an article on shark conservation that analysed how sharks are portrayed in American and Australian media, it was identified that there were “four types of risks from sharks and fourteen types of risks to sharks in the articles” and that “Forty-four percent of the articles mentioned elevated public risk perceptions or fear of sharks” (Bret Muter et al, 2012, Australian and U.S. News Media Portrayal of Sharks and Their Conservation, Conservation Biology, Vol.27, No.1, p.190), which is to say that humans are more of a risk to sharks on the whole than sharks are to humans such as through overfishing, finning and habitat destruction and that this can directly parallel the ‘attacks’ on his character that Desmond has endured so far in the story.

In direct contrast in this respect, there is Eloise and her swan motif represented by her hairpin. The dominating cultural perspective on swans is that they are uniquely beautiful and elegant, they are symbols of purity and aristocracy and are a protected species in many countries including the US, UK and across the whole of the European Union. This places them at the utter opposite end of a general consensus scale to sharks and their features in popular culture reflects this from Hans Christian Andersen’s Ugly Duckling fairy tale to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake ballet.

Swan Lake is of particular note to me due to its duality of the white and black swan that can be applied to Eloise’s characterisation. Through her white clothing, fencer-defined elegance, and timid demeanour, Eloise brings to mind Odette the white swan - or the Swan Princess - who was cursed to be a swan by day and woman by night and who is revered for her beauty and purity. Contrastingly we have Odile, who impersonates Odette while she is bound to her swan form and is the ‘black swan’ - more conniving and wicked. Traditionally, Odette and Odile are roles performed by the same ballerina and so represent this idea of duality even more. Now, Eloise is neither conniving nor wicked, but she certainly is not the ‘Odette’ that people perceive her as on a surface level, and has assertive and, really, quite aggressive talons that unsheathe when she deems necessary. 

(Eloise’s first Free Time Event, unprovoked) Eloise: If…if you ever try to do something to me… Eloise: …then…I’m going to fight back.  (...) Eloise: Once, I completely overpowered a person using just a pen… Eloise: And, uh…if you don’t believe me… Eloise: …I…can give you a taste of what that person felt. 

Additionally tied to this is the Medieval moralist view on swans as symbolic of hypocrisy. The idea stems from Hugh of Fouilloy’s Aviarium where he asserts that swans’ white plumage concealing their supposedly black flesh is reflective of a sinner who conceals their sins with a faux pious front…this line of thinking of “white = morality, black = immorality” is notoriously flawed and susceptible to challenge, and this specific idea alluding to black flesh even more obviously so. However, as a spiritual Christian belief, it is relevant when considering Project: Eden’s Garden not least because the game’s religious allusions ask us to question the very concept of Eden and how Western institutions use religious imagery - especially in how they distort it and use it for their own narrative. Every image of nature in the academy being artificial highlights this. Thus, this old idea about swans and hypocrisy may be taken into account… it is not so much direct hypocrisy that relates to Eloise, but the theme of appearance not reflecting reality and a warning to “not to be deceived by outward appearances” (Natalie Jayne Goodison, Introducing the Medieval Swan, p.12). Eloise’s character profile outright tells us to “not be deceived” (by her “size”, but this can apply generally). 

And this neatly leads into the fact that swans themselves, despite their innocent and pure iconography, are fierce - especially when it comes to defending themselves or their nests. As Aristotle puts it in his (outdated by over two millennia yet still incredibly interesting) work The History of Animals, “[swans] will repel the attack and get the better of their assailant, but they are never the first to attack” (Trans. D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson, 9.12) and Eloise explicitly references this in her fight against her own underestimation and to combat the perception of her as weak both in form and fortitude. Despite what Damon believes, I refute the idea that Eloise’s volatility makes her emotionally weak because chapter one’s trial proves otherwise as does chapter one’s investigation that instantly sees Eloise disprove Damon’s idea of her. Speaking of Damon, it is interesting how he comes to respect and almost understand Desmond who is misunderstood as a threat by others much like himself, but cannot extend the same to Eloise whom he has no axis of relatability to. 

“Still, it is significant that the administrative and agricultural experts voiced concern that aesthetic, cultural, and sentimental ideas about swans guide the birds’ protection in a strange or illogical way, and the resources expert agreed that the main—if not the only—value associated with continued protection of the whooper is sentimental value.” (Shauna Laurel Jones, 2018, Feathered majesty in the grainfield? Conflict, conservation, and the whooper swan in Iceland, p.39)

Desmond’s shark motif presenting through a shark tooth earring is not merely an aesthetic choice and instead possesses symbolic connotations. It is the choice in his design of a shark tooth earring that allows us to connect indigenous beliefs about sharks to his characterisation, as in indigenous Hawai’ian culture, shark teeth are traditionally worn as protective talismans, and certain species of sharks in indigenous Hawai’ian culture also relate to the concept of ‘aumakua’ where under certain conditions a deceased person is reincarnated as a shark and acts as a “beneficent guardian spirit” (Leighton R. Taylor, 1993, Sharks of Hawai’i: their biology and cultural significance, p.19) towards their family, both of which link to the increasingly potent theme of “guard[ing]” in Desmond’s character. 

Similarly, we find ideas of “guard[ing]” with the swan, especially the idea of being guarded. Most blatant is the fact that swans are a protected species in many particularly Western countries such as the United Kingdom, the United States, France, Denmark, Germany, and Iceland, meaning it is illegal to kill or injure them. In a literary sense, we have the Finnish national epic Kalevala wherein the hero Lemminkäinen is tasked with killing a swan that swims and sings in the Lake of Tuonela that surrounds the underworld, but instead he is killed - not textually because he has attempted to kill a swan, but the context of swans as a protected species and how they are symbolically viewed certainly influences this narrative.

However, as a point of contrast, while sharks can be associated with life in the sense of survival and their integral position in ecosystems, keeping them intact, swans are associated overwhelmingly with death. Firstly examining the former, it is notable to me that Desmond’s animal motif is one heavily concerned with conservation efforts to protect against endangerment and extinction, conditions that are in no small part due to human impact. When one sees apex predator their mind tends to swipe to violence, to these creatures being bloodthirsty, instead of taking it for what it really is: an animal that plays an indispensable role in regulating ecosystems. Already, Desmond has cemented himself as a secondary contributor in trials alongside the likes of Jean, Ulysses and Wenona, and within the group he assumes a position not the extent of leadership like Wolfgang and Jean but certainly as a prominent initiator. Sharks have lived for millions of years and their survival is integral to the smooth management of marine ecosystems, to remove them would cause a disastrous knock-on effect. In tandem, the condition of its ecosystem is integral to the survival of the shark, which raises the aspect of Desmond’s Free Time Events that has him lament the lack of open space in the academy. 

“As apex predators, sharks play an indispensable role in regulating marine populations, maintaining biodiversity, and preserving the health of our oceans (amongst many other parts they play in the tapestry of life that is below the waves). However, despite having roamed our oceans for millions of years, they currently face a myriad threats that of our own doing, including overfishing, habitat degradation, and climate change.” (Melissa Cristina Marquez, 2024, Exploring the Intersection of Indigenous Knowledge and Shark Science)

Turning to the association between swans and death is the ever-omnipresent swan song. The myth that swans are silent their whole lives until just before they die, when they sing their haunting song. Eloise can be interpreted according to this in how “silence” can be applied to her initially reserved and shy nature, with the more she develops across the story akin to the theme of transformation found in many European folktales and, unfortunately as a result, becomes closer to death her development in becoming more openly confident will be her “song”.

My personal speculation at the moment is that Eloise will become the blackened through killing in self-defence - something I find fitting for her characterisation, predicted character arc, fencing talent, and swan motif all in one - and so her swan’s song will manifest as her final plight during her trial before she is inevitably sent to death. Relatedly, the conclusion of Swan Lake sees Odette, the swan princess, and Siegried, the prince, die together. I view Desmond and Eloise’s relationship to end in one of two ways - either one of them kills/is killed and the other kills/is killed the chapter after, or one of them kills/is killed and the other survives. Either way, they cannot both live. 

The silver Swan who living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat; Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sang her first and last, and sung no more: "Farewell all joys! O death come close mine eyes, More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise." (Unknown author)

And so arrives the final point to wrap this whole essay up in one neat bow: Eloise’s swan motif presents in her unwavering loyalty as a pair with Desmond. This is so unsubtle that it is underscored by Grace and Kai in the chapter one trial, sending accusations of them working together to murder their way. As has been reiterated, the two are seldom not depicted together, react to accusations towards each other with the same intensity were they to be directed at them, and defend each other with a consistency they do not afford any other character, with only Diana coming close in Eloise’s case. Like swans who mate for life, Eloise and Desmond have essentially become pair bonded. This happening so quickly is not necessarily a cause for doubt either in my opinion as that also connects to swans who bond as a pair even before they reach sexual maturity at twenty months despite living for a good two decades, and we know Eloise and Desmond’s time is far shorter than that. 

“Someone has to leave first.  This is a very old story.  There is no other version of this story.” (Richard Siken, War of the Foxes)

With everything we have of them so far, regardless of how Desmond and Eloise’s individual stories play out, they will be in one way or another entwined. 

Thank you for reading, and I would love to know your thoughts!

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

Aristotle, Thompson D. W.,The History of Animals

Goodison N. J., 2023, Introducing the Medieval Swan

Hugh, 1172, Aviarium

Jones S. L., 2018, Feathered majesty in the grainfield? Conflict, conservation, and the whooper swan in Iceland

Lönnrot E., 1835, The Kalewala

Marquez M. C., 2024, Exploring the Intersection of Indigenous Knowledge and Shark Science

Muter B. et al., 2012, Conservation Biology, Australian and U.S. News Media Portrayal of Sharks and Their Conservation, Vol. 27, No. 1

Nosal A. et al., 2016, The Effect of Background Music in Shark Documentaries on Viewers' Perceptions of Sharks

Taylor L. R., 1993, Sharks of Hawai’i: their biology and cultural significance

Tchaikovsky P. I., The Swan Lake Ballet

[sixlane]

fic authors self rec

when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at lease five other writers. spread the self-love

thank you @velanavis @ecstarry @carniferous for the tags <3

january finds us here - bartylily | M

She’s been carpooling with Barty to work for a month now. He’d offered to start giving her rides if she didn’t want to keep biking through the sub-zero temperatures in their Upstate New York hometown. He says her house is on the way. She’s not sure how true that is, but she figured she’d take the wins where she could get them. Or, Barty and Lily work a shift at the bowling alley together and Lily can't catch a break.

2. and we keep going - bartylily | E

Now Barty is 19 and he likes to measure his life in stupid decisions. Likes to chase the metallic tang of blood running into his mouth when a fist fits itself perfectly against his nose. Likes to dull the pain with a joint and the heat of another body sliding against his. And that, he tries to convince himself, is what’s going on with him and Lily Evans.

3. you live in me - rosier twins | T

For as long as Pandora can remember, she and Evan have shared all the same clothes. Cut their hair the same length. Slept in the same bed. They would not have it any other way. Sometimes, late at night, if Pandora focuses, she thinks she can feel her brother’s heart beating in her own chest, right where hers should be, but sometimes when she wakes she feels nothing at all.

4. get him back - jegulus | E

Regulus only has eyes for James. He can’t stop staring at him across the room, like maybe James will feel the heat of his gaze across the back of his neck and finally pay attention. He wants James to feel jealous, wants him to finish what he started. Or at least try to. Regulus would love nothing more than to turn him down when he’s begging.

5. i know heaven's a thing (i go there when you touch me) - jegulus | E

Regulus huffs a laugh. “Oh so you do listen when I speak. Could’ve fooled me.” He has no idea that James has been hanging off his every word since the first time they met. Not that James can let him know. This game is how he keeps things fun. Fucking the artistic director of the dance company you’re in becomes much more complicated when things like that are spoken out loud. Or, Regulus gives James a chance to make up for his bad behavior.

open tag because i'm kinda late and i feel like everyone has done this!