#ignore the context but *whistles*

[prismuffin]

The MW2 boys reaction to you calling them pretty boy

w/ Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy

warnings?: swearing, mentions of drinking

*gn reader ( can be read as any gender ! )

!-!more under the cut!-!

John Price:

—You calling him pretty boy would definitely catch him off guard.

—Honestly he thinks it's a dare

—Depending on how well he knows you he might let it slide, unless you're in public or around other members of 141, then he'll reprimand you for it.

—Secretly enjoys it but tries not to show any reaction

"Drinking all by yourself pretty boy?"

John's head snapped in your direction, seeing you leaning against the counter. He was currently at the bar having a drink though your presence completely caught him off guard. He eyed you up and down before taking another sip of his drink, already sensing the headache inducing conversation ahead. "Pretty boy?" He questioned, his body jolting in a silent laugh, though it was more out of disbelief than anything. "Never call me that again Sergeant." "Yes sir."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

—Did he hear you right?

—Is honestly super flustered but is very happy with the new nickname, he's still very confused at the suddenness of it though.

—He's super smiley all day afterwards like it's all he can think about. Price had to ask him what was had happened to make him so happy.

Gaz was going through a routine pre-workout stretch in the training room. He had more of a lean build compared to some of his mates and though that doesn't make him any less capable it still made him feel as though he has to keep up sometimes. "Nice arms you got there pretty boy!" He turned his head in your direction, his eyebrows raised as he watched you wink at him before disappearing into the hallway. He beamed, feeling a bit more energized than before. He completed his workout with a confidence boost, nobody could tear Gaz down that day. He knew he was getting questioning looks from Price about his smiley attitude but he didn't care.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

—He's so confused? Like did you really just say that to him of all people?? The guy wearing the mask all the time???

—Like Price, he thinks it's a dare or a joke you got forced into by Soap or something

—Doesn't know how to take random genuine compliments that have no context so please bare with him

—Might just fully ignore you honestly, especially if its early mornings

Ghost sighed as he walked into the common room. Soap and Gaz were talking about something in the corner of the room while Price seemed to be sat reviewing some files, you standing over his shoulder. You noticed him first, your eyes catching his as he stood in the doorway. You nodded your head at him, "Morning pretty boy." He blinked at you, seeing if you were serious. It wasn't something he had expected to leave your mouth and he didn't know how to react, he was thankful for his mask at times like these. Noticing your greeting, Price had turned and nodded to him as well before the both of you went back to looking at the files. He mumbled a "Fuckin' 'ell" as he walked deeper into the room. He just hoped that nickname wouldn't stick.

John "Soap" MacTavish:

—He easily accepts the new nickname with a smirk

—Two can play that game 'cause he'll definitely flirt back a little to be honest

—You're just adding fuel to his ego ya know

—Like Gaz he's just a big ole happy boy after you call him pretty boy

Soap was with Ghost in the locker room on base. He was chatting with Ghost, though it was more like he was talking while Ghost was listening, only giving input when he felt necessary. You'd walked in when Soap had just taken off his tactical vest, leaving him in nothing but a tight black shirt. A whistle cut through the air, catching the attention of both men. "Looking good pretty boy." Soap's expression morphed from confusion to that of an amused one. A smirk rested on his lips as he crossed his arms. "Not lookin' too bad yourself there la' " He winked before hearing Ghost groan about how you two were being gross.

Alejandro Vargas:

—It catches him off guard much like Price but he quickly gets over his shock

—Like Soap he's more than likely to flirt back with you

—Finds it funny, especially if it comes from nowhere

—Will tease you to hide his own flustered state

You were currently occupying yourself by cleaning off one of your favorite submachine guns. It was then that Alejandro had walked in with Rodolfo. They were both coated in sweat after a morning run which Rudy had immediately left to wash off. You would have joined them both had you not been minorly injured on one of the recent expeditions. You weren't complaining though, you got to rest all day and take in sights like this. A smirk found its way onto your face as your eyes scanned over Alejandro's form. "Welcome back pretty boy." Alejandro shook his head, a smile resting on his face. "Ten cuidado amigo/a, falling for me can be dangerous." (Be careful, friend)

Rodolfo Parra:

—He's flattered to say the least, he definitely wasn't expecting it but he's not mad at all

—Like Gaz and Soap he's very smiley afterwards

—You made his day with such a simple compliment and he secretly hopes the nickname will stick cause it makes his heart flutter.

Rodolfo was currently training some new recruits for Los Vaqueros, yelling semi-threatening words of encouragement as he watched them run the track. The yelling along with the heat had made him a bit lightheaded though he fought against the feeling. He jolted when a hand clapped his back, turning to see your face greeting him with a smile. "You doing alright pretty boy?" If you asked Rudy later he'd definitely blame the blush rising in his cheeks on the heat. "S-Sí, I'm ok." You tilted your head, unhooking your hip flask from your belt. You held it out to him "Cuídate Rudy." (Take care of yourself) He nodded, grabbing the flask from your hand and taking a big sip before handing it back to you. "Gracias." "De nada."

----!----

( first time writing for COD men I hope it turned out ok !! )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN but you can still send me messages to see if I'm close to opening them again!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x you #cod mw2 headcanons #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #mw2 imagine #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #prismuffin #fanfiction #cod mw2 imagines #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod men #cod mw2 fic #cod mw2 fluff #x gn reader #x reader

[hedgehog-moss]

Update on May 1st protests and how the french goverment handled them?

^ The May 1st protests were pretty violent esp. in Paris; two cops were set on fire (they're ok, one has 2nd degree burns), lots of destruction in city streets, and hundreds of injured protesters. The French gov is sticking to its M.O. of denying any police violence against protesters, emphasising protesters' violence and portraying it as mindless anti-democratic savagery rather than the result of their own anti-democratic policies.

There were more people protesting in the streets on Monday than at any other May Day protest in the past 20 years (by a large margin—7 to 10x more people than usual.) And the numbers are still impressive in terms of this current social movement—there were about 1.2 million people at the first protest against the pension reform in January, 900K at one of the February protests, around 1.1M on March 7 and I think 1.2M on March 23rd... We're in May and there were 800K people in the streets on Monday (using the police's probably low estimate). The first marches earlier this year were peaceful; people started destroying shit in March after the 49.3 (=the gov not letting elected representatives vote on the reform); in the following weeks we saw a brutal escalation of police violence + suppression of just about any means of non-violent protest, which results in more violence.

The vast majority of protesters are still peaceful, but in terms of providing context for the increased violence, well—people protested peacefully, peaceful protests got banned. People banged pots and pans, pots and pans got banned and confiscated. People started a petition on the National Assembly website which got a record number of signatures, the petition was closed before its deadline and ignored. MPs asked (twice!) for a national referendum on the reform to be held, their requests were denied. Electricity unionists cut power in buildings Macron was visiting, now he travels around with a portable generator. Unions tried to distribute whistles and red cards (penalty cards) to football supporters before the French Cup finale last week, so the ones who wanted could use them if Macron showed up (he ended up hiding and greeting the footballers indoors rather than publicly on the stadium lawn); the police prefecture tried banning union members from gathering outside the stadium to distribute these items (although the ban was struck down by the judiciary as it was illegal, like most bans these days...)

Confiscating saucepans was already so absurd it felt like a gratuitous fuck you, but now they're trying to prevent the distribution of pieces of red paper. Cancelling petitions that would have had no real impact anyway. Prosecuting people for insulting Macron. Arbitrarily arresting hundreds of nonviolent protesters to intimidate them out of protesting (guess who's left then?). The French gov is systematically repressing democratic or nonviolent means of making your opinion heard, and when people get more violent they're like "This is unacceptable, don't these terrorists know there are other means of expressing dissent??" Where? This week a 77-year-old man was summoned to the police station and will be forced to take a "citizenship course" for having a banner outside his house that read "Macron fuck you" (Macron on t'emmerde). Note that he would have been arrested (like the woman who was arrested at her home and spent a night in police custody for calling Macron "garbage" on Facebook) but they decided not to only because of his age.

So that's where we're at; on Monday two cops caught on fire (well, their fireproof suit did) after protesters threw a Molotov cocktail at them. (The street medic who tried to help them with their burns ended up getting shot by a cop's riot gun a few seconds later—with French police no good deed goes unpunished!) The media talked a lot more about this incident than about the fact that the cop who got most severely injured on that day (broken vertebrae) was injured by an explosive grenade that a colleague of his meant to throw at protesters (you can see it at the end of the video below). If police with all their protective gear get so badly injured by their own weapons, no wonder the worst injuries have been on the protesters' side. (nearly 600 injured protesters on May 1st, 120 severely, according to street medics.) I'm not including images of these incidents in the video but on May 1st a protester had his hand mutilated by a police grenade + a 17 year old girl was hit in the eye by a grenade fragment, may end up losing it (during the Yellow Vests protests, Macron's first attempt at repressing a social movement, 38 protesters lost an eye or a hand).

What you see in the video: cops charging the front of a march to tear a banner off people's hands then retreating and drowning the street in tear gas when protesters throw paint bombs at them (protesters have umbrellas because of police drones); at 0:30, a journalist saying "They're not even arresting him, just kicking him when he's down—they kicked him right in the face!" then police spraying with tear gas protesters who try to fend them off; at 0:46 when a protester being arrested asks a journalist if he's filming and starts reading out loud a cop's ID number, another cop shoves the journalist and throws him to the ground; at 0:54, an Irish journalist runs away from the police tear gas grenades that you hear going off, at 01:08, the incident mentioned above when a cop drops a grenade he tried to throw, which explodes in his group, breaking another cop's vertebrae. There's a lot more I'm not including, like how CNN said "there's so much tear gas in Paris, our foreign correspondent can barely breathe", how another journalist was hit by a sting-ball grenade (he was also bludgeoned on the head so hard it broke his helmet—even though cops know the people wearing helmets are journalists...), and yet another journalist who was calling out a cop for aiming at people's heads with his riot gun (which is illegal) ended up having the guy aim the riot gun at his head from 2 metres away (getting shot with this "less lethal weapon" from that distance would be lethal.)

All of these videos are from May 1st (most of them from this account monitoring police violence.)

So yeah, nonviolent protests followed by violent police repression and bans of nonviolent means of protesting result in more violent protests. The French government responds by a) pikachu surpris, b) condemning violent protesters and praising violent police to the skies, c) continuing to ban everything they can think of. Confiscating saucepans didn't work but confiscating pieces of red paper will do the trick! Let's prosecute people for bashing or burning an effigy of Macron, because banning symbolic violence always works to prevent actual violence! And this week after the May 1st protests we learnt that the gov is thinking of making street barricades illegal, because that'll definitely solve everything. It's going to be interesting for history teachers to teach students about the 1789 revolution that allowed us to take down an absolutist regime and become a republic, under a government that banned barricades because they see them as terrorist anti-republican structures.

^ Statue symbolising the French Republic (on Place de la République in Paris) dressed with a 'Macron resign' shirt by protesters on May 1st.

#ask #frpol #left-wing MPs this week asked to hold a debate in the Assembly about the repression of this social movement #the Minister of the Interior (in charge of police) didn't come but sent his delegate instead #the delegate refused to admit to any problem with law enforcement and at some point walked out as a MP was asking a question #this happened 1 day after the UN Human Rights Council condemned the French gov's violent & racist law enforcement #god there's so much infuriating shit happening every single day

[miya-akiko]

A DATE?!

context : reader is asl sister and dating a certain dark haired man

warning : there's curse words lol + a brief mention of zolu + mention of sex

you look at yourself in the mirror and then let out a satisfied whistle, "look so damn good."

looking to your left, there's your sling bag that your beloved boyfriend bought for you for your birthday made a smile bloomed on your face.

you quickly took your phone, tucking it inside of your bag and took the new heels that you just got for tonight's date and walk downstairs.

"sabo, you dont have to cook extra today. i won't be home for dinner." you said to your older brother that are reading his book and he just hummed to acknowledge you while your eldest brother raise his eyebrows but still not looking at you since he's still playing a game on the tv, "where are ya going, y/n?"

"a date."

you pretty sure you heard someone's neck crack because of how fast ace and sabo turn their their heads towards you and finally noticing that you're all dressed up.

luffy also look at you before he bluntly asked "are you going out with traffy?"

"traffy?!" sabo and ace asked loudly. ace walk towards you fast, "young lady, you ain't going out with him! he got a tattoos on his body and.. and.. and.. he got a goatee!"

sabo nodded and he took your heels away from you, "and he's literally older than me and ace! why would you date an old man?!"

you look at your overprotective brothers with a tired sigh. "first of all, im an adult. i can do whatever i want, date whoever i want. second of all, ace you also have a tattoo."

ace frowned when you pointed that out and grumbles something you can't hear under his breath angrily.

"sabo, he's only 2 years older than you. our dad is 10 years older than mom so why does that matters?" you asked them with an annoyed look on your face.

"traffy is a good guy, don't worry!" luffy smiled and give a thumbs up to his brothers and immediately got ignored making him pout and focusing back on his game.

"how long have you been dating him?" sabo asked after few minutes of silence. you sigh in relief when he finally relaxed. "almost a year now. today is our first anniversary." you mutter nervously, looking down on your feet to ignore ace's glares.

"why didn't you tell us about this?" this time ace is the one that asked and you immediately gulped, your eldest brother is too scary.

"luffy knows and um i didn't tell you guys because i was not ready."

ace and sabo immediately look at the youngest and luffy didn't even act like he cares as he munch on his chips. "what? traffy said he gonna take care of her and i trust traffy."

"have you guys ever had sex?" sabo asked seriously and you immediately choked on your spit making you cough loudly.

"y/n!" ace immediately pat your back gently. "calm down you idiot."

after drinking water thanks to sabo sprinting to the kitchen you calmed down. "no we haven't.. done that yet."

"okay good. make sure you use protection if you.. do that" sabo pat your head before he share a look with ace.

".. have you two kissed?"

well now that's a dumb question. who would ask that to their sister who has been dating a guy for a year?

"are you dumb?" luffy asked before you can even say anything and god it made you cackled so loud.

after few seconds there's knocks on the door, you were about to open the door when sabo stopped you and let ace open the door instead.

and there were your handsome boyfriend standing perfectly with a bouquet on his hand, he look a bit confused before realizing that your brothers finally found out about the relationship.

"..hello, im here to pick up y/n." law said to ace and sabo calmly and silently nod at luffy to greet him making the younger one waved happily. "HI TRAFFY!"

"hi babe" you smiled as you walk to your boyfriend. "dont mind them, they're just being dumb." you said as you kissed his cheek and law feel like sabo and ace glares can literally set him on fire.

"im going now, dont follow us you shitheads!" you warned your brothers before wearing your heels and dragging your man yes YOUR MAN away from your house.

"LANGUAGE!" you heard your brothers shouted.

after finally getting a moment to be alone with him in the car, you sighed and held his hand, "sorry about that. you know.. how crazy they are when they found out luffy was dating zoro too."

law just shook his head and gently caress your face, "don't worry about it. now shall we go? because i can see your brothers staring at us from the bushes"

you rolled your eyes with a laugh, "yes let's just hope those idiots won't interrupt us the way they interrupt luffy's date."

#one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #sabo one piece #portgas d ace #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fluff #ace x reader #sabo x reader #luffy x reader

[violet-lavender-fem]

Don't mind me just dropping receipts of JK Rowling engaging in holocaust denial~ Tee hee! :3

https://youtu.be/whJJGqVtkEk?si=aN1HXEfuR7BgxmgY

so i’m 1 minute and 16 seconds into the video and this man is saying that the fact jkr is expressing shock in the first tweet is due to the nazis burning books abt sex reassignment / gender

and not due to being basically called a nazi for being a feminist

let’s continue shall we

okay 5 minutes in and he still hasn’t proven that she was denying nazi book burning and not just ,, balking at being called a nazi, which is a serious fucking accusation

no sir (5:30) the “only good faith reading” of this tweet isn’t that she’s ignorant it’s that she’s taking offense to someone saying she follows nazi beliefs

(6:28) being opposed to the medical experimentation being performed on gnc people is not “being aligned with nazis” it’s called a nuanced issue that people come to separate conclusions on for different reasons. feminists are anti-porn bc we see it as rape on tape. conservatives hate porn bc they think women should never have sex. vaguely similar conclusions, completely different motivations and arguments.

(7:12) simply calling lgb alliance an “anti trans lobbying group” is a bit disingenuous lol

(7:59) y’all are abt to downplay eugenics and sexual inversion theory aren’t u

(8:35) yep

(8:52) still haven’t convinced me she said the book burning never happened

(9:45) a quick dig at the guy’s appearance, great, totally normal

(10:16) has this man never heard of paraphrasing as a way of making a statement more concise. jesus fucking christ

(10:30) ok the smallest possible acquiescence to paraphrasing as a concept

(12:00) yea he was definitely racist and a eugenicist :/ we’re not gonna dwell on that tho <3

(12:45) actually we’re actively going to downplay it <3 let’s just call him vaguely “problematic”

(13:32) or because he believed gay people were “born in the wrong body” — that lesbians were secretly part male (hence the searching for sperm), and the opposite for gay men

(14:09) so ur telling us what he ACTUALLY meant. like owowowoow it’s a dog whistle don’t listen i did all the thinking for u type shit

(14:51) is vaginoplasty not a form of sterilization. ur cutting the patient’s balls off aren’t u. so like. ? but i do concede to this one minor point.

(15:27) “yea he was a horrific torturing nazi. but like. not in the way u specifically said so this is all wrong.” so he was the guys coworker and he was a nazi doctor. just not this exact fucking way so it’s all moot??

(15:58) and now he’s directly comparing jkr to a real life nazi again. for making tweets he doesn’t like.

(16:40) STILL not convinced that she was referring to the book burnings as the fever dream

(17:17) THATS NOT SHIFTING THE GOALPOSTS THATS SOMEONE ELSE TRYING TO CONTINUE THE ARGUMENT AND FAILING BRUHHHHH sry someone pulled an argument out of their ass and jkr responded to that nonsense instead of the exact tweet u still seem to wanna talk abt. sorry conversations continue without u. someone ELSE shifted the goalposts FOR u.

quick timeline for ur benefit

> someone: ur basically a nazi

> jkr: what fever dream did u get that from

> someone else: yea trans ppl were literally the first victims of the nazis and every single piece of info on trans ppl was burned

> jkr: what

> someone ELSE: books on transsexuality were burned (something she didn’t deny, just put into historical context that y’all don’t like)

> jkr: are u not gonna mention the person that is doing actual holocaust revisionism here

> malcom: agreed?

(18:37) tweet didn’t say “this book burning was the first act against transsexuals” it said “trans ppl were the FIRST VICTIMS of the nazis” that’s u shifting the goalposts babygirl

(18:50) now ur claiming she said dora never died girl she wasn’t even brought UP in the CONVO

(19:21) but it is the view that this one specific person, whom jkr is specifically rebuking, holds

(19:47) girl this is what i’ve been saying this whole time. normal ppl don’t like when u call them nazis. they may even call ur logic a “fever dream.” weird huh

this is pissing me off fr how dare u call someone an actual nazi holocaust denier based on ur sickeningly bad-faith reading of their fucking TWEETS

(21:05) literally what ur doing right now

also can i point out that the reading of the tweets in such a pissy contemptuous tone of voice is of course going to make someone’s arguments sound stupid. half of ur “proof” here is her tone and what you think she’s saying, not her actual written words.

(21:31) nice actual nazi dog whistle

(21:33) i don’t trust eli erlick bc he is a rapist. he rapes fellow trans people. but carry on i guess.

(21:37) much of what ur referencing is compiled by someone who has raped trans people. great.

(21:50) transvestites are not the same as todays trans people. but carry on i guess.

this is wearing me out man

(24:47) yes absolutely visibly gender nonconforming people were persecuted and tortured and even murdered. a number of them likely experienced dysphoria and may have undergone surgery. does that mean all of those people would identify as transgender if they had that terminology? the citation continues to refer to these people as both transvestites and transgender, as if those are equivalent interchangeable terms. i don’t remember what source this is from. was this passage written by eli erlick, or by an actual holocaust historian?

(26:38) so now we’re actively equating the terms transvestite and transgender. this youtuber simply claimed that the two are the same without proof. i call presentism.

(28:47) gay men were referred to as homosexual. “Homosexuell” (“homosexual”) which is a direct synonym of gay. “transvestite” is not a direct synonym of transgender.

(29:16) miriam ezagui is an orthodox jew who describes her life and her jewishness. she has addressed the role of goblins in jkr’s works, saying that the history of them in folklore may be rooted in antisemitism, but jkr’s characters are goblins. not jews. she describes it better than i do idk find her account.

30 minutes in and we’re defining holocaust revisionism and denial. ok man

(31:32) is that a feminist or just a random dipshit on the internet

(31:43) is that a feminist or just a random dipshit on the internet

(31:46) is that a feminist or just a random dipshit on the internet

(32:27) yep

all done

not convinced. calling someone a holocaust denier is a serious accusation, and this entire video is all either actively choosing to believe she is saying something that she didn’t or taking offense at history being complicated and not fitting into your current worldview.

the nazis targeted jewish people, people of color, the romani, homosexual men, political dissidents, and people who were transvestites. likely more groups of people that i forgot to list. would some of those people identify as trans today? maybe. but you cannot decide that for them.

nazis committed disgusting atrocities at a scale that’s practically unimaginable. and to call a woman a nazi or a holocaust denier because of the way you read her tweets is sick.

#it’s 1am so if this is hard to follow that’s why

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Consider this quote that has launched a thousand ships...

“Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world. Some are thin and weak, others long and dark. You should look behind you, Lord Snow. The moon has kissed you and etched your shadow upon the ice twenty feet tall.”

(Jon VI, ADWD)

This is one of those quotes that has a lot of hidden meanings, depending on the leans through which the reader interprets it.

I often see it used as shipping fodder - understandably so, given Jon's connection to both Arya and Daenerys. But I would argue that it really has a lot of symbolic significance to Jon, kings, and dragons.

For instance, Mel talking of men casting shadows upon the world and then immediately mentioning that Jon's own shadow looms large over one of the greatest wonders of the world reminds me of several quotes about Tyrion:

“Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are.” He favored Jon with a rueful grin. “Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs.” And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king.

(Jon I, AGOT)

“Oh, I think that Lord Tyrion is quite a large man,” Maester Aemon said from the far end of the table. He spoke softly, yet the high officers of the Night’s Watch all fell quiet, the better to hear what the ancient had to say. “I think he is a giant come among us, here at the end of the world.”

(Tyrion III, AGOT)

Tyrion has often been likened to a small man who casts a giant-like shadow - often within the context of him wielding some sort of power/influence, as we can see with Vary's remarks. It's quite remarkable that Jon, a mere boy, is also equated with casting a giant-like shadow, especially within the context of him wielding innate magical power. I also find it difficult to ignore that Tyrion's shadow is said to stand as tall as a king, especially if we add the context of Jon comparing their heights earlier in that chapter.

We thus have shadows likened to kings. So where do the dragons come in?

“A trader from Qarth once told me that dragons came from the moon,” blond Doreah said as she warmed a towel over the fire. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father’s khalasar. Doreah was older, almost twenty. Magister Illyrio had found her in a pleasure house in Lys. Silvery-wet hair tumbled across her eyes as Dany turned her head, curious. “The moon?” “He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi,” the Lysene girl said. “Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.”

(Daenerys III, AGOT)

It's said that dragons are birthed from the moon. Daenerys' herself is presented as some sort of moon maid often in the text - which makes it all the more believable that she's the moon kissing Jon in Mel's quote.

But we must also consider Mel's quote within the larger context of the book in which it appears. For Jon, ADWD is full of symbolism regarding death, (re)birth, kings, Azor Ahai's legend, and dragons waking from stone.

Burning dead children had ceased to trouble Jon Snow; live ones were another matter. Two kings to wake the dragon. The father first and then the son, so both die kings. The words had been murmured by one of the queen’s men as Maester Aemon had cleaned his wounds. Jon had tried to dismiss them as his fever talking. Aemon had demurred. “There is power in a king’s blood,” the old maester had warned, “and better men than Stannis have done worse things than this.” The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames.

(Jon I, ADWD)

A repeated motif with the faith of R'hllor, especially as it pertains to Mel and her attempts to bring about Azor Ahai, is the idea of human sacrifice. Especially the sacrifice of king's blood. How curious that this line is repeated several times in the Wall plot? And how curious that we end the book with Jon's assassination.....

Throughout ADWD, Mel sees Jon in her visions, especially as she looks for Azor Ahai. Val later reminds him that there is some significance to what Mel sees

“His milk name. I had to call him something. See that he stays safe and warm. For his mother’s sake, and mine. And keep him away from the red woman. She knows who he is. She sees things in her fires.” Arya, he thought, hoping it was so. “Ashes and cinders.” “Kings and dragons.”

(Jon VIII, ADWD)

There irony here is that they're right. Mel sees Snow in her visions (though Jon is thinking of lowercase 's'). But only Val equates this to kings and dragons. We know that Jon is both.

“Pyp should learn to hold his tongue. I have heard the same from others. King’s blood, to wake a dragon. Where Melisandre thinks to find a sleeping dragon, no one is quite sure. It’s nonsense. Mance’s blood is no more royal than mine own. He has never worn a crown nor sat a throne. He’s a brigand, nothing more. There’s no power in brigand’s blood.”

(Sam I, AFFC)

There is a deep irony to this quote. We know that Jon is dead (or near death) by the end of ADWD. And if we consider R+L=J, then it seems that Melisandre has just found her sleeping dragon, whether she knows it or not. This could create a very interesting parallel to the Tragedy at Summerhall. which was intended to birth dragons but instead brought about a metaphorical dragon in Prince Rhaegar....who happens to be Jon's father, and who was initially thought to be Azor Ahai/TPTWP. Thus, there is an intended parallel of a Targaryen princeling mimicking dragons waking from stone with both Rhaegar and Jon.

Not only that but according to prophecy, Azor Ahai has been credited with having birthed dragons

“He is not dead. Stannis is the Lord’s chosen, destined to lead the fight against the dark. I have seen it in the flames, read of it in ancient prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt.”

(Jon X, ADWD)

But we have what seems to be a different interpretation of prophecy that has Azor Ahai forging Lightbringer, and there is the mention of a moon....

“A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife. ‘Nissa Nissa,’ he said to her, for that was her name, ‘bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.’ She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.

(Davos I, ACOK)

So all in all, we're told that dragons (allegedly) came from the moon, and that Azor Ahai's forging of Lightbringer caused a crack in the moon (which sounds very similar to the crack that brought forth dragons).

Side Note: Are these two different prophesies? Different interpretations of one prophecy? The second one talks of a very literal flaming sword, but did the crack in the moon also bring forth dragons? In that case, are there supposed to be two Lightbringers (a sword and dragons)?

When we consider all of these things, Jon is placed in a rather peculiar position. He could be the dragon being born from the moon....but what if he is the sun itself? (Or as close to the sun as he possible can be?)

Let's take a step back and consider again how Daenerys fits into all of this.

Dany pressed her heels into her silver and rode closer. “My lord,” she said softly. “Drogo. My sun-and-stars.”

(Daenerys VIII, AGOT)

Khal Drogo looked down at her. His face was a copper mask, yet under the long black mustache, drooping beneath the weight of its gold rings, she thought she glimpsed the shadow of a smile. “Is good name, Dan Ares wife, moon of my life,” he said.

(Daenerys V, AGOT)

As stated earlier, Daenerys has always been presented as a moon maid. In her interactions with Khal Drogo, he often called her the moon and she equated him with the sun; which makes for a very interesting comparison later on when Drogo's life is exchanged for dragons, and Dany kisses him sometime prior.

There aren't many similarities between Jon and Drogo, but Dany's House of the Undying visions place them both as her husbands.

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness.… mother of dragons, bride of fire …

(Daenerys IV, ACOK)

Then we have the matter of Azor Ahai and his flaming sword, Lightbringer.

ADWD hints at the possibility that Jon will be the one (not Stannis) to successfully forge this legendary sword.

Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. 

(Jon XII, ADWD)

What's interesting about Lightbringer is that it's not just an ordinary flaming sword. There's more to say on the properties of Lightbringer but based on textual clues, we can assume that it must meet two conditions:

It must give off heat

It must be bright...as bright as the sun (Jon's ADWD dream indicates that his sword is giving off a light that encompasses the world around him: "his blade burned red in his fist...The world dissolved into a red mist."

Lightbringer being a stand in for the sun often comes up in relation to Stannis' false sword.

“Now he comes north humbled, with his tail between his legs. Why should I give him any aid? Answer me that.” Because he is your rightful king, Davos thought. Because he is a strong man and a just one, the only man who can restore the realm and defend it against the peril that gathers in the north. Because he has a magic sword that glows with the light of the sun. 

(Davos I, ADWD)

Stannis Baratheon drew Lightbringer. The sword glowed red and yellow and orange, alive with light. Jon had seen the show before … but not like this, never before like this. Lightbringer was the sun made steel.  [...] “Westeros has but one king,” said Stannis. His voice rang harsh, with none of Melisandre’s music. “With this sword I defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. Bend the knee, and I promise you food, land, and justice. Kneel and live. Or go and die. The choice is yours.” He slipped Lightbringer into its scabbard, and the world darkened once again, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. “Open the gates.”

(Jon III, ADWD)

This brings up a very interesting question for the reader to consider. If Jon is the one to successfully forge the true Lightbringer, then he becomes one who would wield the sun itself; which is undoubtedly going to be very important in the upcoming war for the dawn when all of Westeros will be covered by never ending darkness.

Jon himself is never directly linked to having the countenance of the sun, or being golden like the sun, but it must mean something if he is the one to harness the sun.

So going back to Mel's quote, it's a bit of a mental exercise to try and tease out what role Jon plays in this. The moon (which birthed dragons) has embraced him. But is Jon the dragon to be brought forth by the moon's actions? Is he the sun? Or maybe a hybrid of both?

#jon snow #prophesies and visions #azor ahai #lightbringer #dragons #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my stuff

[hannahmanderr]

For @scarletsaphire's ask in response to this ask game. Prompt was #19 for Gray Ghost.

important blob ghost context here lol

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Danny, I swear there’d better be a good answer to why you brought me to the freaking dumpster behind the Nasty Burger at two in the morning.”

He turned back to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Aw, come on Val, I know how to show a girl a good time.” 

That earned him a thwack on the back of his head.

“Ow! Okay, okay, lesson learned,” he grumbled, rubbing where she’d hit him. 

“I’m still serious about having a good answer,” she said. She hugged herself tightly. “And thanks for warning me to bring a jacket by the way. Why can’t I put my suit on again?”

“You’ll scare them off.”

Valerie stopped in her tracks. “Them? Oh my God, do not tell me you brought me here to a dumpster to see ghosts!”

“Hey, you already established the dumpster thing!” he said, still wearing his goofy grin. “And I won’t tell you I brought you here to see ghosts, ‘cause I brought you here to meet ghosts.”

“... You are about three seconds away from getting shoved into your own thermos, ghost boy. Human or not.”

He finally dropped the grin. “Right. Sorry. Serious mode. But, uh, I am being serious about meeting a few ghosts.”

She frowned. “I thought we talked about this.”

“I know, I know. And I promise I’m not trying to change your mind or anything, I just… wanted to show you.”

He watched her carefully, trying to read her poker face. He hoped she believed him about not wanting to try and influence her. She’d made him promise, after all, and he didn’t break his promises.

Especially to someone like her.

Even if she was so close, yet still so far.

When she didn’t respond, he ventured further. “Think of it like evidence or something. Or - or when you go into a safari and you just watch animals do their thing in their natural habitat.”

“Isn’t their natural habitat the Ghost Zone?”

“Eh, sort of? There’s enough ambient ectoplasm around Amity for them to sustain themselves, I think. Plus I kinda get the feeling I’m like a magnet for the stuff, and since I’m always here…”

He tried not to shy away under her piercing gaze, as pretty as it was.

No. Bad Fenton. Friend.

Finally, she sighed heavily. “Alright. Show me what you got. But only because you already dragged me out here in the middle of the night, okay? This isn’t gonna be a regular thing.”

“Yes!” he said with a fist pump. He realized how stupid he probably looked, but he was too excited to care.

He turned toward the dumpster, trying to ignore the odor drifting out from the one opened side. Taking a deep breath, he put his fingers to his mouth, and with a little bit of energy from his core fused into his breath, he whistled soundlessly.

Soundlessly to humans, anyway.

Valerie tilted her head. “... What the heck are you doing?”

He shot her a grin. “Consider it the dinner bell.”

The first one faded into visibility right in front of Valerie’s face. She squeaked in very uncharacteristic surprise, and Danny didn’t miss how her hand twitched up to her bag, where he knew she stowed a spare blaster or two. To his relief, she didn’t move her hand any further and instead let the ghost drift towards him with a wary glare.

The little blob ghost was round, bright green and about the size of a grapefruit. Actually a pretty decent size for a blob ghost like this. Its core glimmered brightly from within its fluid body.

It floated towards him with curiosity brimming in its red, beady eyes. “Brrrp?” it ‘said’ as it bumped against Danny’s cheek. The sound could only be described as the perfect midpoint between a chirp and a purr.

He smiled widely and used one finger to scratch the underside of the blob. “Heya Jeff,” he said, making sure to pour as much affection as he could into his voice. In return, Jeff chirped again and nuzzled against his neck contentedly.

Valerie seemed to be frozen in place, not sure whether to be upset, disturbed, or endeared. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the blob sitting on Danny’s shoulder and Danny himself. “... You named a blob ghost Jeff?”

“Not me. Uh, Kat I think her name is. The cashier? In the year above us?”

Her eyebrows lifted at the name. “That’s who she’s been going on and on about? I thought she was talking about a puppy or something!”

“Mmm, nope. Probably this Jeff. I’m assuming anyway.” He scratched Jeff again. “Where’s everyone else?” he murmured, this time in ghost speak.

He didn’t really like having to speak ghost in front of Valerie, especially as she was still getting used to all his weirdness, but the blob ghosts didn’t really understand much beyond the common ghost language. Through some trial and error, he and Tucker and Sam had found that they seemed to understand human languages if there was enough emotion behind whatever was being said, but it had to be a pretty strong emotion, and even then it was hit or miss. They still always responded to Danny best, anyway.

Blob ghost communication aside, he couldn’t help but wince just slightly when he saw her troubled reaction to the ghost speak. Her face exploded with surprise before melting back into a guarded caution.

Jeff chirped a response before floating off his shoulder and zooming inside the dumpster. “Where’s he going?” Valerie asked quietly.

“Getting the rest of his family.”

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Jeff emerged from the open dumpster lid, followed closely by a dozen or so more blob ghosts, each of varying size and transparency, but all sharing the same green color. They all swarmed Danny, rubbing up against his face and shoulders and arms and brrrping happily.

He laughed at the ticklish sensation. “Alright, alright, cut it out guys!”

They in fact did not cut it out. If anything, they just cuddled up to him more. Excitement radiated from their tiny little auras.

Even through the bombardment of affection, he managed to catch a glimpse of Valerie’s face soften into slight amusement, even trying to stifle a laugh herself.

That alone made his heart and core soar far higher than any attention the blob ghosts could give him.

“Red, I’d like to formally introduce you to the Nasty clan,” he said proudly, attempting (and somehow failing) to gesture to the ghosts around him.

She pulled a bit of a face, but Danny didn’t sense any increase in hostility or wariness. “That’s not very nice.”

“I mean that’s what everyone calls them.”

“... Everyone?” Her eyes followed a particularly excited blob, only about the size of a grape, zipping around Danny’s head. 

“Yeah. A bunch of employees kind of took up naming them all, since they’re always hanging around here.” He glanced at her. “Honestly, I thought you would’ve known about them by now. Especially with your trackers and all.”

She scowled. “Daddy made me promise to keep them off during shifts after I got written up for ditching to help stop that one ghost who was tearing up the boardwalk.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that guy! You should’ve seen me trying to get off the Tilt-a-Whirl after they emergency stopped it so I could find a place to change. I just kept crashing into things.”

“Isn’t that what you normally do anyway?” she teased, a genuine laugh bursting from her lips. It sent Danny blushing deep red for more reasons than one.

Sticking out his lip in a pretend pout, he plopped down right onto the cement and folded his legs underneath him. “You hear that?” he asked the blobs, not caring that they probably didn’t understand a word of what either of them were saying. “She’s being mean to me.”

“Hey, you asked for it, bringing me out here in the middle of the night.” She knelt in front of him, nearly touching her knees to his. His heart skipped a beat as he realized how close she was.

No! We’re not doing this! Think of something else!

“They have a real name too,” he blurted in a desperate attempt to immediately derail this train, abort, abort -

“A real name?”

He cleared his throat as Jeff settled into his lap. His hands instinctively wrapped around him gently and began petting. “Well, like, an actual name. A ghost name.”

She watched as Jeff began to purr contentedly and flatten himself against Danny’s legs. “Will you tell me?” she asked quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.

Crap. Of course he didn’t think this through. Of course. “I - well, um, the thing is, there’s - there’s not exactly an English equivalent…”

“... Tell me anyway.”

His eyes jerked up to see her staring intently, a complete contrast to how she’d just been moments ago. The light of the blob ghosts’ glows cast a glimmer in her gorgeous green eyes, making him swallow thickly.

“Vakrot,” he whispered in ghost speech. “I… it kind of means ‘potato’? But not exactly? Ancients, I don’t know how to explain this…”

“Potato,” she repeated with a smile of disbelief. She shook her head. “Figures. They’re kind of shaped like potatoes anyway.”

He tried to calm his heart as another blob - this one nicknamed Pepsi, for some reason - nestled into his hair. They were way too tuned into emotions, and agitating them wasn’t going to do any favors. “I guess I never thought of that. I always assumed it’s because they like french fries so much? But now that I think about it, it’s not like there’s exactly a ghost equivalent of french fries - well, I did have these things one time at this little stand out past the Carnivorous Canyon, and they tasted a lot like fries, but they were in little balls, and Tucker -”

He blushed again when she held up a hand to stop his babbling. “Is that why you had me bring these?” she asked, pulling a paper bag out of her own.

He grinned. “Yeah. I thought you might like to try and feed them.”

“Feed them?” She raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that kind of go against the idea of it just being observation?”

Two of the blob ghosts were trying to squeeze themselves into the bag already. He snatched it away and held it shut tightly. Those things could be slippery when they wanted to be. “It’s fiiine,” he said with a drawl. “People do it all the time. It’s like feeding the ducks at the park or something.”

“You know that’s bad for the ducks, right? And wildlife experts are always having to tell people to quit feeding animals.”

He dropped his hands into his lap, bag and all, nearly squishing Jeff. “Killjoy.”

Now it was Valerie’s turn to grin sheepishly, though hers seemed far more timid. “Look, someone’s gotta keep you in check, Fenton. You may be trying to babysit Amity Park, but you need a babysitter of your own half the time.”

Hmm. He did not know how he should feel about her calling herself his babysitter.

Trying to shove those thoughts away too, he offered the bag out to her. “Come on,” he said, as if he were coaxing a puppy. “You know you want to.”

She stared at the bag, then at him. Then at the bag again. His heart thrummed faster despite himself.

After nearly a minute of contemplation, she slowly took the bag and opened it. The blob ghosts immediately caught a whiff of its greasy contents and drifted over, chirping and purring. Danny noticed how her muscles tensed ever so slightly, and he gulped.

He was worried for the blob ghosts, thank you very much. He was absolutely not thinking about how well-defined her arms looked in the pale glow.

Nope.

Valerie, with a look of trepidation, took a single fry from the bag and held it out gingerly towards the tiny grape ghost that had been racing around Danny’s head. It didn’t need any more invitation before it simply stuck the end of the fry through its body, nearly running into its teeny core. 

Danny couldn’t help but grin wildly as Valerie’s face morphed into one of fascination. The best thing about blob ghosts was their translucent exterior, which gave them a perfect view of how the little ghost - Pipp, if he remembered correctly - swam its ectoplasm around the portion of fry it had absorbed. The little portion of fry dissolved away and funneled into its core, causing it to glow the slightest bit brighter.

His felt like his face was going to split open as her wide eyes found his. “Cool, right?” he asked eagerly.

She was already holding the fry out to Pipp again. “I… I never knew they could eat,” she whispered. “I never knew it could be so beautiful.”

If only you knew how beautiful you really are.

His stomach started doing somersaults. 

He was so, absolutely, 100 percent screwed.

He forced himself to swallow and grab a fry for himself, offering it to Jeff, who immediately absorbed the entire thing in one go. Much like Pipp’s, Jeff’s glow radiated stronger.

“These guys are the best kind of ghosts for converting stuff into ectoplasmic energy,” he explained. Was his voice really shaking that badly, or was it just his anxiety talking? ��That’s why there’s so many of them. They can keep themselves going on practically anything. And then they like to kind of put themselves right around ambient ectoplasm and help feed back into it.”

“Like a weird, unalive version of a tree.” Her voice was breathy. “A tree that likes french fries.”

He couldn’t help but giggle. “That’s… surprisingly accurate?” he said as he made a grab for a few more fries.

They spent the next few minutes slowly feeding fries to the blob ghost clan, laughing as one named Bingus (God, that name cracked him up) nearly absorbed Pepsi in a rush to get to a fry first, cooing with pity at the ones who got left out, and chatting back and forth about ectoplasm and ghost biology.

That last one made his core sing with just how genuinely fascinated she was with the science of it all.

Soon enough, they were surrounded by brightly glowing blob ghosts, lighting up the area like tiny green fairy lights. Pepsi had nestled herself back into Danny’s hair again, and Bingus perched on Valerie’s shoulder. Each of them held a blob in their lap, and other than one that had randomly decided to stick itself to Danny’s elbow, the rest drifted around the two of them in a lazy, post-french fry bliss.

Danny offered his last fry to Pepsi as he watched Valerie gently stroke Jeff in her lap. His stomach was still doing somersaults, and the urge to say something - anything - to her was becoming impossible to resist.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Thank the Ancients he could do without a little less oxygen, because he was pretty sure he was breathing way too shallowly. “I… I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him in confusion. “For what?”

Breathe in, Fenton. “I promised you I wouldn’t try and push you. Back when we - when I finally told you the truth.” Breathe out. “You said you wanted time to figure things out for yourself, and you didn’t want to be rushed. And - and then I go and do something like this…”

She didn’t break her gaze on him. “I’m guessing… this isn’t just about the ghosts, is it?” she said with a quiver in her own voice.

He didn’t know how it happened. He couldn’t feel his own limbs. All he knew was he felt himself lean forward and she leaned forward just a split second later and her lips were on his and his lips were on hers and they were sharing the most tender, soft kiss he’d ever experienced under the warm glow of all the little blob ghosts.

He wanted to leap. He wanted to fly. He wanted to dive to the ground and pull himself up at the last second and laugh at the thrill it left in his stomach.

None of it would compare to the thrill he felt kissing her.

And yet…

Something in the back of his mind desperately tried to pull on the reins. This isn’t right. 

You’re still pushing her.

You’re taking advantage of her.

That had him crashing back down to Earth.

Shaking, his heart and core aching, Danny opened his eyes and pulled back just far enough to take his lips off hers. Valerie’s eyes flew open as she felt his warm kiss disappear.

Their foreheads were still close enough to touch. Desperately trying not to break down, he rested his against hers and gently grabbed one of her hands. 

“I… I don’t…” he whispered, struggling to find the words through the haze of his panging heart. “Are you… do you… really want to do this?”

He had to ask.

Even if the answer broke his heart.

For a few impossibly long seconds, her green eyes bore into his blue, and another pang rippled through him as he drank in the tiny galaxies he could see behind her gaze.

And then she had her hands on his cheeks and her lips on his again, kissing him with an insatiable fervor. He found himself too stunned to do anything at first, and as soon as he could comprehend the situation, he was reciprocating just as longingly, holding her waist as if his half-life depended on it.

If he had been flying before, he had shot beyond the stars now.

Something flickered behind his closed eyelids, but it was the farthest thing from his mind. This moment, right here right now, this was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that existed. The only thing he could ever want and need, filling his heart and core with a love he couldn’t put into words.

And if her kiss was any indication of how she felt, if the emotion radiating from her entire being was true, then she felt the exact same love in that moment.

This time when the kiss broke, it was mutual. They stayed there on their knees, foreheads pressed to one another, both catching their breath and trying to calm their fluttering hearts.

He kept his eyes closed. He wanted to savor this. Memorize every detail. Memorize the feeling of her mouth on his. Memorize each feeling soaring through him at top speed.

“Um, Danny?”

His eyes popped open. “Wha- oh.”

So that’s what the flicker had been.

The blob ghosts hadn’t moved, but now instead of their normal green, their cores shone in a glittery gold, piercing through their translucent skin and casting the two in a soft, golden glow.

He lifted his head as he stared at them in wonder. “Oh Ancients, of course.”

“What? What happened to them?” she asked. A distant part in the back of his mind trilled happily at how concern for the little ghosts filled her voice.

He grinned shyly. “Okay, so um… you know how I said blob ghosts can take like, almost anything and turn it into energy?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah…?”

“I think, um… I think they might’ve felt our emotion? Since it was so strong? And converted it into energy?”

Red tinged her cheeks. “And what the heck did we do that made it turn gold?”

Well.

He was pretty sure he knew the answer. If the pull in his heart was anything to go by.

Instead, he let his grin widen. She was so going to hate him for this. “I mean, those fries came from McDonald’s right? The golden arches?”

As expected, her fist landed right on his bicep, forceful enough to startle the blob ghost latched onto his elbow but not strong enough to hurt. “Okay, yeah, I deserved that.”

Valerie shook her head with a blinding smile. “You’re such an idiot.”

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him again in the light of the warm, gold glow.

#danny phantom #gray ghost #valerie gray #dp #danny fenton #blob ghost #grey ghost #danny phantom fanfic #hannah writes #and that's another smooch for kad to draw hehe

[houlebubo]

One day I'll probably do a 40-minute video essay on this topic, but the internet's misinterpretation of "Death of the Author" is just a real shame.

I frequently see the concept brought up in relation to a certain terf author. People attempt to 'separate the work and the author', but that is frankly not how it is intended to be used.

"Death of the Author" is supposed to be a tool for literary analysis. That's all it is. It is not a theory by itself, nor a political stance or a way to judge morality.

It is a tool to encourage readers to interpret the content of a text authentically, but you should use it critically, and be aware of why, how and when it is relevant. It is not an excuse to ignore context or paratext, as both of those should also be considered in a proper analysis.

The tool was developed during a time when the discourse was more favourable towards an author's intention rather than a reader's interpretation. People used intention to dismiss other readers' analysis of texts, using diary entries or letters by dead authors to counter less mainstream takes of canon texts. It was a period where the 'goal' of literary analysis was to uncover a text's true meaning. The original essay was a short controversial counterargument but the conversations it sparked over the following decades have led to the scale tipping more in favour of interpretation. It has also led to a 180 of the original problem.

Killing the author has the potential of empowering readers and encouraging deeper. Maybe even uncovering biases the author wasn't even aware of! However, (mostly outside of academic circles but not always) people are misusing the concept and use it to dismiss context and racist dog-whistles as well as discourage readings that rely more on subtext.

In simple terms we have gone from a mentality saying "AHA, I have evidence and it said you are wrong" to "AHA, it doesn't matter and therefore you are wrong". Neither is constructive in a conversation about art.

If you use the death of the author effectively while acknowledging intention and context you actually add a lot of nuance to your analysis, and doing so can demonstrate your analytical abilities. You will be able to distinguish what the text is saying plainly, what is said between the lines, and if the narrative effectively handles what it originally claimed. It is an effective 1-2 punch. Let me give you an ultra-short example:

On the surface level, '50 Shades of Grey' tells you that it is a sexy BDSM story. Throughout interviews and promotional material, E. L. James frames her story as a female-empowering book. But by critically examining how the books handle themes of consent, privacy, agency etc. we can argue that the narrative doesn't live up to proper BDSM conduct and that the protagonist is not empowered, and is instead displaying an unhealthy relationship. If we take the analysis further we could make an argument about what this says about society at large. Does it normalise boundary-breaking behaviour? Could it make someone romanticise stalking? The thesis statement is all up to you. (disclaimer I have not actually read these books, don't come for me, this is an example)

Here is what we just did: I presented a surface reading of a text. I presented the most likely intention of the author. I then argued for my interpretation by looking at literary themes and context. I used the conflict between Jame's intention, and my interpretation to illustrate a conflict. 1-2 punch. I am not killing James, I consider her opinion and intention to strengthen my argument, but I don't let her word of god determine or dismiss my reading. In just 3 simple sentences I use a variety of resources from my toolbox.

When people weaponise the author's intention it can look like this:

"Well, E. L. James said it is a female power fantasy, you're just reading too much into it" <- dismissing context and subtext by using 'word of god'. Weighing intention above interpretation.

"Does it really matter that E. L. James didn't research BDSM before publishing, can't it just be a sexy book?" <- dismissing context, subtext as well as author intention and accountability. Weighing their own interpretation and subtly killing the author

Simply exclaiming "I believe in death of the author" (which I have heard in Lit classes) means nothing. It's nothing. Except that you want to ignore context and only indulge in the parts of the text that you find enjoyable.

In the plainest way I can put it, the death of the author is supposed to make you say: "the author probably meant A, but the text and the context is saying B, therefore I conclude C". Don't just repeat what the author says. Don't just ignore context. And allow the feelings the text invokes in you to be there and let them be something you reflect on. The details you pick up on will be completely unique to you, the meaning you get will be just your own. You can do all of these things at once, I promise it doesn't have to be one or the other.

There has to be a balance. Intention matters. Interpretation matter. Watch out and pay attention. Are you only claiming the author is dead or alive when it serves your own narrative?

When you want to ignore an author ask why

When you don't want to read a book because you don't condone the actions of the author ask why

Examine how you dismiss arguments and how you further conversations.

#literature #lit #uni #death of the author #i don't write long tumblr posts what the fuck is this #i take constructive criticism but be nice about it #English is not my first language there are probably a ton of mistakes and weird things in this #analysis #i'll probably delete this thing #but i'll post it for now i guess because I have been writing on it for too long

[thesmpisonfire]

I do think this whole thing has turned into more of an issue of ego, it feels like lea has taken her role as initial whistle-blower to mean she has to break the news and spill the beans on every single thing to do with the server that she's aware of, be it hearsay, leaks, or just out of context add ons. Of course, there is a level of fear in a situation like this that the admins face in which the others may not want to be as outspoken, but with her words being the gospel it really does nothing but stir up more panic and questions which won't get answered as long as the known legal case within the qsmp is ongoing.

I don't agree with how Quackity has handled a fair chunk of everything, and I think perhaps his own ego as a cc had a hand in everything leading so astray in how overworked the admins ended up being due to his ignorance, but she is phrasing everything he does as a personal attack on all of them. It's such a delicate situation where wording is everything. As for the framing of him speaking his mother tongue in that regard... It seems so unnecessary and tinged with xenophobia. It's important that the french community are finally listened to in regards to all they've had to sit through but there's a fine line of entitlement that has been gained now that she does have the mic here that I feel is wavering.

(sorry for this rant, it's been making me think a lot)

Oh yeah definitely, she feels like she's a martyr

#qadmin situation

[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard Part 4

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, rivals to lovers. Drama. Skinny dipping. Minors DNI

It’s that dream again.

That dream where everything’s perfect.

It’s a sunny day. Everything’s in slow motion, but the sounds are in real time. Everyone is whooping and cheering. Children laugh and run past him. In the distance they zipline and play games. Counselors smile as they wave at him. Everyone is happy. Everything is perfect.

But there’s one thing missing. Skylar. It’s often in these dreams she’d walk past him and smile, giving a coy wave and a wink. She’s dressed in her loose counselors’ tee and jean shorts. Her blonde hair that catches in the sun flows behind her and her blue eyes sparkle. She’s perfect. But she’s nowhere to be seen. 

He hears the distant shrill of the lifeguards’ whistle. The water is still and perfect. There’s no one at the lake but you. You’re in the lifeguards’ bright red leotard and wearing shades. Sunlight glints off your perfect legs. You lie back in your chair, a sigh of pleasure echoes as you soak up the suns’ rays. Then you look at him and the sounds of laughter are drowned out. You smile perfect whites and blow him a kiss.

---

After a week, the camp had put out a missing persons’ flier for Skylar, Ian, and Bill. There was really nothing Jack could do to protest on the basis he’d look suspicious. It made him feel awful once local parents caught wind that people were going missing and decided to pull most of their kids from the camp. He couldn’t have imagined how much of the experience had been ruined for them, and he even had to hold back some tears of his own as he watched the smaller ones scream and cry to stay but to no avail.

But no, he reasoned, it was better this way. Less kids at the camp meant less of the likelihood that they’d go wandering past campgrounds. And that was less people to keep track of going near the shed, which after that fateful night with Bill he’d made certain no one else had ventured near it. And in the meantime, he’d kept himself occupied… a little side project you might say. He planted flowers. 

He planted them behind the shed, on top of the mound where they’d been buried. He hadn’t even known where he’d gotten the idea. But one day he’d simply ran up to the local convenience store, found some seeds and started planting. They were scorpion grasses - “forget-me-nots”. He grimaced at the implications. It didn’t take long for the other counselors’ to start noticing them in the distance. So of course they questioned him.

“Oh that?” Jack asked, “That’s sort of a… garden I’m starting.” That earned him a few narrowed glances and side eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, using the flush of guilt to play it up like he was embarrassed. “I… haven’t been able to really sleep much since Skylar disappeared so… I just started without thinking.” At the very least, the words were true. And a half truth is always good to sell in the right context. Finally he said, “I figured maybe… If I planted these they might see them. They might want to come back. I dunno…”

They ate it right up. Their looks of suspicion turned somber and apologetic. They muttered sorrows and walked past him giving pats on the back. All except you, who sucked your teeth at the explanation. You shook your head, “They ain’t coming back.”

All eyes were on you now. Another counselor named Olivia folded her arms and raised a brow, “And… why is that Y/N?” She asked.

“Because they’re guilty.” You replied matter-of-factly. Jack gave you a pleading look, which you aptly ignored.

Olivia pressed, “Of?”

“Being slimy, trifling, no-good adulterers.” Your statement was met with scoffs and mumbles of disbelief. You simply shrugged, “You heard me, they were creepin’.” You then proceeded to spill everything you heard from Jack that night, though you were sure not to mention his name. Still, it made the mascot visibly wilt. And now it looks to everyone like he was pining after a “bad girl” who acted like a “good girl” and led him on. Where that last part came from he hadn’t known. But apparently everyone knew at some point he liked Skylar.

People weren’t so sympathetic towards you however. You’d been cheated on, that much was certain. They had no reason to dispute you, and it would explain your shit attitude the week before. But your apparent hostility towards the whole thing had made other counselors grow wary of you and they began to talk.

“She’s not even joining in on searches for them!”

“Yeah, that was still her boyfriend and best friend. You’d think she’d be a little more caring about the whole thing...”

And then things got on the more insidious side.

“I know she can be a bitch sometimes but this is too far.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out she had something to do with their disappearance.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. The thought that anyone would be accusing you of murder… It rubbed him the wrong way. The more ruthless part of him thought this was likely the best case scenario. You hadn’t mentioned his name and suspicions were already on you. You weren’t exactly what came to mind for blood thirsty ax-murderer but looks could be deceiving. He could always just relocate the bodies, adjust some wounds and… He shook his head clear of the incriminating thoughts. That wasn’t who he was. The goal was discretion and scarcity. There was no need to make things more complicated. Aside from that, there were things that needed clearing up…

You were on lifeguard duty as usual, and while there weren’t as many kids to manage, it was all the more reason to stay vigilant of them. Some counselors left due to stress but it was more you hung around to stave off boredom. You lie back in your chair, soaking up the sun’s rays, absentmindedly chewing gum. Jack shuddered, remembering his dream.

He got it again when he walked to your high chair and knocked on the stilts. Without even looking down you hop from your chair and take off your shades. You grin, “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“We need to talk.” Jack said.

“You always wanna talk,” You then turn to the kids in the lake and tell them to take a hike. They all groan, disappointed their fun was interrupted. Nevertheless, they obey and go to dry off.

“I think they may hate me more than they did a week ago.” You said casually.

“I want to talk about what happened earlier this week.” Jack said.

“What about it?”

Jack sighed, “Don’t play dumb. You made such an unnecessary scene back there.”

“Sorry.” You said unapologetically.

 “I mean it. People are starting to talk.” Jack briefly glances around, “They think you have something to do with Ian and Sky’s disappearance.”

Your eyebrow furrows, “Where’d they get that from?”

“You’re bitter. You don’t help with searches. You’re just generally-”

“A bitch?” You interrupted.

“... Uncompromising.” Jack corrected.

“Oh yeah sure...” You said. “You know what? Let ‘em talk, Jack. I don’t have anything to hide! I couldn’t give less of a damn if they were found or gone forever. If they’re found – goodie. Whooptie fucking do. If they’re gone? Also good because I don’t wanna see their sorry asses anyway!”

You go to march off the docks but he sidesteps you.

“Hey- Y/N, stop.” He said.

“Bye Jack.” You bumped past him.

“Y/N-”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, heading back to the main campgrounds.

---

It’s nightfall.

The other groups of counselors have just come back from a fruitless search. The kids have been resigned to their cabins since seven in the evening, now having a curfew to prevent further disappearances. You, however, stay right where you are. You pull out another stick of gum and pop it in your mouth. The sugar sweetness turns bitter when your fellow counselors cast scornful looks your way. Even Shaun, whom you’d grown to be good buddies with since summer started, avoided your gaze. 

They aren’t even a few feet away from you when Shaun decides now is the best time to boost morale. “We’ve had a long day… what do you guys say to a movie night?” He said, a good natured lilt in his voice.

The counselors clamor around him, humming in agreement. You don’t miss the wary glances casted your way and hushed whispers about what to do about you, as if not getting an invitation would cause you to drop in and ruin their good time. Which in all honesty, wasn’t a bad idea.

“We aren’t going to invite her, right?”

“It’d be alright to ask,”

“But do we have to?!”

Exaggeratedly, you checked your nails and attempted to drown out their whispers by chewing your gum harshly. Before you knew it though, someone came up beside you. Nick Hererras. Oh boy.

Nick was an emo guy who had some kind of influencer page on Twitch or Youtube. He had an obvious crush on you and while he was cute in his own right, his sullen and heartsick vibe around you was somewhat of a downer, especially in contrast to how easygoing he’d be around others.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey…” 

“Hey,” You replied casually.

“...It was kind of a long search today.”

“You must be tired.”

“Yeah,” He chuckled softly, “I-it was a lot.” You hum curtly. He wets his lips, picking up that he’s losing your attention before even getting it. “We- we’re having a movie night! Shaun’s hosting so… typical horror bullshit. Slashers and all… Maybe you’d like to come… a-and join us?”

You look past him and at the group of counselors. Many of them shift uncomfortably and scrunch their faces up in discomfort, obviously displeased Nick went to invite you. The fact that they don’t even hide their disdain makes your ears burn hot. You shoot up from the steps and start towards the docks, “Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the invitation.” You bite out.

Nick’s weak protests could be heard. Some of the counselors sighed in relief.

“Thank God.”

“Well, we tried.”

---

“Goddamn…motherfucking-”

You roughly shucked off your pants and pulled off your shirt. The force of their removal from your body could have very well ripped them but you didn’t care. Your skin was burning with anger, embarrassment, and everything in between. With added frustration you hurriedly tore off your underclothes before taking a running start across the docks. The wind blew through your hair, though it did nothing to cool your skin; you wouldn’t be pacified until you were in the water.

Upon reaching the edge of the dock, you leapt off the wood as easily as you would a catapult. You flew through the air hands out before pulling them in along with your feet, the aerodynamics of your form caused you to flip over twice and land in the water with a big splash. The force of your dive pushed out the surrounding water, shooting it up around you. It fell in droplets on your skin as you rose to the surface. 

You sigh, wading on your back and letting the water carry you for a while.

These past few weeks have been hell. Nevermind the ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend eloping to god-knows-where, or that the head counselor had suddenly gone AWOL – but to think you were actually being suspected of murder? Jack might’ve not said those exact words but it was obvious enough what he was implying.

Your mood sours when the mascot comes to mind; even more so when you remember the garden behind the shed. 

“He’s so stupid…” You hiss. He so obviously still harbored feelings for Skylars’ trifling ass. And why that made you so ornery you couldn’t figure it out; it’s not like he owes you his allyship due to Skylars’ actions. But you didn’t understand how anyone could still like someone willing to do something so shitty. But then again, you often had your own well-being in mind and if someone proved a threat to that, it was pretty easy for you to cut them from your life completely. You’ve lost a lot of potential friends in the past because of that, and you assumed Ian would’ve been different. But in the long run he proved to be no different than the rest…

Snap.

Your head shot up as you peered out into the darkness. “Hello?” You called out. The woods responded with silence. Thinking it was the kids you called out, “If there’s any campers out there, go back to the cabins – it’s past curfew!”

Silence. Then the subtle crunch of branches beneath footwear.

“Y/N?” Jack’s soft voice called out to you before he emerged from the trees. He wasn’t in his usual costume of the big blue foamy jacket and brown pants with garish primary colored shoes. He now wore a tight white tee that hugged his muscular frame, with a pair of gym shorts. He still had on the makeup, though, probably having forgotten to wash it off.

Your ears burned hot as you realized he’d be one of the first to see you like this: swimming in the buck. Subconsciously, you folded your arms over your chest as he approached the lake.

“Y/N, why are you all the way out here?” Jack asked, “It’s not smart to separate yourself from the other counselors.”

Your initial shyness depletes when he mentions the other counselors. “You should tell them that, they’re the ones separating themselves.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Shaun’s hosting some stupid movie night and no one wants me there.” You said.

Jack blinked in surprise, “Shaun? But he’s one of the nicest counselors here.”

“Well, Nick tried… to extend the invitation, I guess. But it’s not like I wanted to go anyway. Horror movies…” You scoffed, “they’re so dumb. And it’s all Shaun watches!”

Jack sighs, “Still, you should stay close to the camp. I dunno what I’d do if another counselor went missing…”

A smirk broke out on your face as you swam up to the boardwalk, placing your hands on the wooden edge as you looked up at him. “Oh? And what would you do, Jack?”

Your sudden change in demeanor caused him to blush bright red, “I-It’s not like that!” He exclaimed, “I mean, I just want you to be safe!”

“Aww. Look at you, worried about lil’ ol’ me!” You cooed.

“Y/N, you-” He paused, finally getting a better look at you in the moonlight. It shone off your wet skin and hair, giving you the feel of some kind of siren, especially with that seductive look on your face. His eyes were drawn to your neck and shoulders, which seemed not to be covered by anything. And then he spotted your clothes…

“God, Y/N! Are you seriously skinny dipping right now?!” Jack exclaimed. 

You immediately clutched your shoulders, but you start cackling, not really finding it in you to feel guilty like before.

“Eeeyup! Care to join me?”

____

Hiii! Sorry this took awhile. This shit is hard to write my guy. It was intended to be longer but I've hit my limit...

Don't fret however, there's more to come!!

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #sunny day jack fanfiction #sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack x you #sdj x reader #sdj x you #summer camp au #camp counselor au #slasher au #horror #the lifeguard #my fics

[hero-israel]

This is something that happened rather recently and it’s kind of a stupid event so I don’t blame you for not talking about it but

What do you think about Greta Thunberg (climate change activist) getting backlash for posting an “I stand with Gaza” pic with an octopus plushie behind her? People got really mad because they thought this round plushie was a dog whistle for an antisemetic cartoon portraying Jews as wrapping tentacles around the earth. She had to clarify she wasn’t anti-semetic but it was a lot of backlash. Personally I really don’t get it and I feel like if a round circular octopus plushie is antisemetic then I don’t know what is

The octopus has been used as a symbol of antisemitic conspiracies since at least 1906 and probably longer. From a racism perspective, it's like "fried chicken" - something needing to be judged by the context rather than dismissed out of hand.

I am quite sure Greta Thunberg didn't know this, and her use of the symbol accidental, because she is ignorant and has no exposure to Jewish or Middle Eastern history. What's much more important is that her post was exclusively "stand with Gaza, free Palestine," now, after everything that happened. She couldn't find it in her heart to be sad about a fascist death squad massacring Jewish teenagers. Her exclusion of care for Jewish people - THAT was deliberate. And her unaccomplished, totemic, slam-poetry efforts at climate activism don't excuse her for it.

More thoughts from an Israeli who, unlike Thunberg, actually works to protect the environment.

#Greta thunberg #antisemitism #European antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #Israel #Palestine #jumblr

[merakiui]

Ahhh, I'm so excited when I write this… >\\\\< I would really like to get a flower bouquet for Rook from the miscellaneous menu, as well as red bean mochi and banana pudding from the midnight menu. Oh, and if possible, a female reader. Thank you very much for creating such an event! >\\\\<

yandere!rook hunt x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, kidnapping, captivity, restraints, rook being rook (keep this man away from the mirror store) note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

There were a plethora of sinister omens that foretold an inevitable danger, looming and lurking like an unshakable shadow. Sudden camera clicks and flashes in your peripheral, sweets and flower arrangements left at your doorstep or in your mailbox, an absurd amount of typed love letters pasted to your door, footsteps trailing you at night—only to vanish when you turned around in search of the one responsible. You reported each morbid affection, yet nothing could be done to help you. Though it was clearly evidence of a stalker, the police argued that this individual had not yet broken into your home or attempted to hurt you. These gifts, though insistent and a breach of your comfort, were harmless. The most the authorities could do was offer suggestions so that you could keep yourself safe: lock your doors, shut your windows, notify trusted friends or family members of your location, don’t walk alone, carry a self-defense tool like pepper spray, an alarm, or a whistle, stay within crowds, et cetera.

You had managed to convince yourself that this situation wasn’t so bad. It could be worse. But then wasn’t it already terrible enough? Weren’t you already terrified of leaving your house to run simple errands that were mere minutes from your neighborhood? And all of this because some person believed themselves entitled to your privacy.

Madness reached new heights when a pristine, leather-bound diary found itself snuggled within your mail like a maggot boring into flesh. You knew it was going to be bad the minute you opened it and leafed through its pages, but you weren’t expecting to be overwhelmed with so much rotten disgust and horror the more you read on. Every entry began with a date, the weather, and a description of what you had been wearing that day. Most entries were mild and almost innocently romantic if you could ignore the context, simply detailing how much this person adored you and how you were always out of reach. But not for long because, according to them, they would soon have you.

Other entries were not nearly as sweet. There was filth of all kinds strewn throughout—promises and vows inscribed within, each telling you of all the things your stalker wished to do to you. They wrote of the dreams they had of you—dreams in which the both of you were together forever and that there would be no need to fret over life’s daily inconveniences because your stalker would take care of everything. You weren’t sure if they truly loved you as they claimed in their flowery, poetic prose because you would turn a few pages and find depraved lust scrawled throughout.

One page had been written in blood. In fact, it was the final page in the journal. A single ominous line had been shakily streaked in crimson that had since dried: Wait for me, mon amour.

Like hell you were going to wait.

You had received the diary yesterday, and you had intended to deliver it as soon the police station opened its doors that following morning. This was a huge piece of evidence. Now you had handwriting samples that could be used for comparisons! Perhaps you’d finally be able to end this nightmare. 

Your shadow caught up to you in the early hours of dawn, overtaking you completely, and you were swallowed whole.

Which now brings you to the present, where you wake clad in just your bra and panties, gagged, and bound against a metal pole—you think you’re in someone’s basement—and mirrors of all shapes and sizes surround you, showcasing your frightened expression from different angles. Beyond that, photographs are pasted to stone walls and strung up on clotheslines. You can't see most of them because of the poor lighting, but deep in your heart you know you’re the subject of each picture.

If you could vomit, you would. But you swallow the the urge to do so, not very partial to the idea of acidic bile soaking into the cloth that’s tied around your head and stuffed into your mouth. Instead, you struggle against your bindings with the hope that you might be able to break free.

A door opens from above. You halt your frantic movements and crane your neck towards the staircase, where a figure descends slowly, one careful step at a time, and your heart leaps into your throat. You can’t see them in the darkness, but you know they’re in the room with you, watching from where they stand like a predator observing prey.

Gloved fingers curl around one of the mirrors—a dated chunk of carved mahogany on wheels—and then brilliant eyes peek through the sliver of space, so vividly green you find yourself looking into a forest with no end in sight. You inhale a series of panicked breaths, pressing yourself against the metal pole as if you intend to sink into it, but it does nothing to soothe your electrified nerves.

“Aah, mon amour, there is beauty in patience, yet it is the heart-wrenching pain of separation that leaves me yearning so...” The person—you now know it’s a man from his deep intonation—steps past the circle of mirrors into the light, bathed in sickly hues of pale yellow, and he presses his hand to his forehead, emulating a dramatic pose of woe. “In the months leading up to this precious moment, I had caught myself wishing the most grotesque things! But what is true love if not the grotesque and the glorious all at once?”

He kneels down to your height and you jerk away so fast that your head knocks into the pole. The man smiles at you, perfectly white teeth aligned and set into a perfectly pale face. He’s handsome, but in this crisp light he is a portrait of the most devilish fiend. His hand cups your face, holding it so fondly, and he eyes you with nothing but the purest admiration. 

“I had thought that, if I couldn’t wait just one more month, I’d find a way to crawl inside you so that I may make a home within your lungs, listen to the melodies your heart would sing for me, and breathe the very blood that rushes through your veins. I had thought, foolishly so, that that might fulfill my desire to have you. But alas! Even in death, as beautiful as you would most certainly be, I would be left without your voice, your life, your little heartbeats... And those are treasures I would never dream of forsaking just to quell impatient urges. Therefore, I waited for you, ma chérie. Waited until you were ready.”

You know you’re crying when he swipes your tears away with his thumb, cooing at you as if you’re a particularly lonesome child in need of attention. But what else can you do in this moment? You’re trapped, and he’s won. 

The man rises to his feet and spreads his arms to gesture at the many mirrors that surround you in one fluid sweeping motion. “And to think you would call such perfect anatomy flawed! You are beautiful in every way, at every angle, down to the cellular level. These mirrors display the truth you cannot yet see, mon amour.”

You’ve never known insanity before, but you’re almost certain you’re staring him in the face. And he looks right back, ill with infatuation. 

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook hunt x reader #yandere rook #yandere rook x reader #lunar love hotel 2023

[haveihitanerve]

What the Batfam says to the press when they question their injuries-

Press: How did you break your arm? Bruce: *always uses his kids as an excuse. Always. Doesn't matter for what injury. ALWAYS*oh. Well you see dick decided it would be funny to try and do a backflip off of the chandelier…… He didn't succeed.  Press: … okay but how does that explain your arm? Bruce: *shrugs* ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Dick: *kinda tells the truth but always overdramatizes it. The press just accepts this* oh well i was doing parkour over Gotham rooftops when all of a sudden this elephant exploded out of a chimney and challenged me to a duel so i had to fight and i won but it managed to grab my arm and pull with its trunk and yeah. *shrugs* ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Jason: *he says exactly what happens but without any context. Was fighting joker? Oh yeah no* Yeah i was thrown into a wall. Landed on my arm weird. *shrugs* Press: …o-okay. ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Cass: *will just like nod* yes. Press:w-... what? Cass: yes. *smiles and shrugs. Backflips away* ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Barbara: *always has a lie ready* oh, well me and dick did some rollerskating over the weekend as a date night and *laughs a little* it turns out im not the best roller skater *shrugs* (this is such a fucking lie by the way. I don't know why, but part of bruces training is learning how to rollerskate. He wont tell them why but one time when he was starting out one of the silver villains was racing away and he had to chase them on rollerskates. Always be prepared) Press: haha. Okay. ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Tim: *forgets he broke his arm so he forgets to come up with a lie. Just comes up with shit on the spot* oh well you see it was game night yesterday and Jason is kinda competitive and i won so he threw me out the window. *nods confidently* Press: *horrified wide eyed stare* Tim: *smiles, unbothered* yeah. *shrugs, walks away whistling* (also forgets that legally jason is dead) ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Damian: *tells the truth with a completely straight face but no one believes him. Bruce had started to panic though so damian just tells them its his mother* Oh. My arm. Yes Mother visited yesterday.*shrugs* I guess my A+ was not a good enough grade for her. *walks away* Press: *drops pencil. Is horrified.* (clark actually did this interview and demanded bruce tell him the truth later so he doesn't go and kill talia) ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Steph: *just ignores the injury* What? Press: *gestures to cast* how did you break your arm? Steph: what arm?  Press: the- the arm- i- what? Steph: I don't have any arms. Or legs. Press: *is flabbergasted* Steph: *grins* Bye! *cartwheels away* ~ Press: How did you break your arm? Alfred: *completely fucks with the press. He loves it* Oh well as you know my ward is Batman so naturally i have to protect our home. Press: i-what? Alfred: oh you didn't know? *tsks* well that's a shame. I won't be doing your job for you. *walks away with all the power of a british butler*

#batfam #batman and co #batkids #they live for fucking with the press

[kryptonitejelly]

When the realisation that you just got married hits | A Flyboy Blurb

Jake Seresin x Reader | Top Gun Maverick

Inspired by this (found this stuck in my drafts, which I just never posted apparently)

Context: Flyboy (readable with or without)

Jake feels your arms around his neck, your fingertips brushing against the collar of his suit jacket. He can feel your skin, and the fabric of your dress against his arms, his hands, his fingers, as he engulfs you into him, pulling you against his body, as if you were a part of him that he would never let go.

Your lips are turned up in the familiar smile he has known, and loved, since the day he met you, and Jake can feel your smile against his own, equally beatific, and he kisses you deeply, passionately, as if his life depended on it. He can hear the roar of the crowd that is present - family, Navy, friends, cheering, whistling - it is deafening, but all Jake can focus on is you. He loosens his arms reluctantly, knowing that as much as he wishes, the time to kiss you forever is not now, and he feels you pull away, reluctantly, your hands loosening themselves from around his neck first, before both your lips finally disconnect.

“I love you,” he murmurs, face still close to yours, soft enough that only you are able to hear and Jake is rewarded by your face splitting into a megawatt smile. He feels you squeeze his hands in yours and Jake laces your fingers with his as you turn to face the crowd.

You both take a few steps forward when it happens. Jake’s eyes lock with yours and it hits you both at the exact same time. He watches as you laugh, your teeth showing, body doubling over in joy, and it makes him laugh as well. Jake reaches out to catch you, tugging you close to him again, only to press his lips on the side of your head; ignoring the cheering crowd.

“We bloody did it baby,” his lips graze the top of your ear, his voice triumphant, content, the little gold circle on his fourth finger a reminder of his newly minted status.

“We bloody did,” is what he hears you say, your voice airy; Jake feels as giddy as you feel, as you turn to press a kiss against his jaw.

#flyboy #flyboy drabble #flyboy universe #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #not cm

[frogletscribe]

Until It Doesn't Hurt

Chapter 1 - Oh, To See Without My Eyes

Summary: 20 years since the RDA was pushed off of the moon of Pandora, they are back once more. The RDA thinks their only problem is the traitor Jake Sully and his family, but as it turns out, Jake wasn’t the only ‘problem’ left behind 20 years ago. Anthe was a child soldier, stolen from their home and forced to learn the ways of the humans, erasing any of their connections to the Na’vi from before. Finally free from the RDA’s hold after being trapped in cryosleep, and they're about to make themselves everyone's problem.

---

Neteyam sees something he cant stop thinking about.

_____________________________________________

Pairing: Aged Up!Neteyam X Nonbinary!Na'vi!Reader/OC (OC and Neteyam are both around 20)

Warnings: Mentions of Past Violence, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mild Claustrophobia, No Use of Y/N, Perspective swapping, Angst

WC: 2493 words AO3 Link Here

A/N: Okay now we are getting into it! Prologue is mostly for context on Anthe, but now we get to the meat and potatoes of this thing~

{ } indicate speaking in Na'vi

Masterlist

Previous Next

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For the last year Neteyam’s father had been leading his clan to war against the RDA’s return to Pandora. The Olo’eyktan had been hesitant to let his two son’s participate in the war efforts. Neteyam had long since passed his final rights, earning his status as a warrior and an adult, still his father babied him. A few years ago, Neteyam could have understood his fathers resistance to letting him fight, but now, when Neteyam was an adult even by the sky peoples standards, and it was beginning to frustrate him. It took a lot of convincing, or arguing in Lo’ak’s case, to get Jake to agree to allowing his sons to participate in the raids. That had led to the agreement that Lo’ak and Neteyam would be spotters only. They would keep an eye out for hostels from a distance and would absolutely not join the battle directly. Those conditions had frustrated the boys, but Neteyam knew better than to argue with the Olo’eyktan when it came to danger, unlike Lo’ak who seemed to make it his job to frustrate their father with his shenanigans. Still, it was Neteyam’s job as the older brother to keep an eye out for his little bro, so when Lo’ak insisted the pair land to pick up their own rifles in the raid, Neteyam had no choice but to follow.

“{Lo’ak!}” Neteyam hissed, following the younger boy closely through the chaos on the ground. “{We aren't supposed to be down here!}” 

“{Relax bro!}” Lo’ak grinned back. “{Dad won’t even know.}”

“{That’s not the point!}” Neteyam argued, trying to remain on alert as his brother grabbed a rifle. “{Do you even know how to use that?}” 

“{Dad showed me.}” Lo’ak continued grinning as he held the large gun up, making the older brother scowl further. He was about to protest further, urge his brother back to their Ikran, but he was cut off.

There was a high pitched whistle, a long and clear note quickly followed by a second shorter one. It wasn’t a call Neteyam recognized, not one used by the Na’vi. Then he spotted the two Sampson Helicopters headed their way. Neteyam grabbed his brother and started running, calling out warnings as he went. The first missile hit, and the ground beneath the boys shook with the impact, making them stumble and Lo’ak drop his newly acquired gun. Neteyam dragged the two of them back to their feet, hauling his little brother with him.

“{My gun!}” Lo’ak tried to protest, but Neteyam ignored him

“{Leave it!}” Neteyam hissed back, not letting up as he dragged Lo’ak away. The second missile hit as they reached the waiting Ikran, landing right where the pair had only just been and throwing the young warriors into the dirt. Neteyam heaved as the wind was knocked from him, struggling to catch his breath. He could hear shouting all around him, registering distantly the sound of his father scolding Lo’ak, then a distinct bang from somewhere behind him. He watched the two approaching Sampsons, the windshield of one suddenly shattered before the whole craft listed heavily to one side, smashing its hull into the propeller of the other. Together, the helicopters began to smoke and spin violently to the ground, crashing with another explosion that shook the ground. Neteyam pulled himself up, shaking himself out of his daze as his father reached him.

“{Neteyam! Are you hurt?}” Jake questioned.

“{I’m ok, sir.}” Neteyam nodded as his father helped him to stand, trying and failing to hide his wince. He had been thrown quite a distance and landed hard, something was bound to be bruised.

“{What the hell were you thinking!? I told you to be lookouts!}” 

“{I’m sorry, sir.}” Neteyam grimaced. This is exactly the thing he was trying to avoid.

“{Just get out of here, we are calling the retreat.}” Jake growled, pushing his sons toward their Ikran. Obediently, the brothers mounted and took off on their Ikran as the olo’eyktan called a retreat to the rest of the war party. Neteyam shook his head, trying to sort out everything that had just happened when he caught a flash of something shiny in his periphery. He turned, just barely catching the figure in the trees as he ascended. Blue skin, tattered clothes of the sky people, dirt stained face, and the largest gun Neteyam had ever seen. But what caught the Na’vi warriors' warning call in his throat was the figure's eyes, piercing and bright gold boring directly into him, through him. And then they were gone, dropping from the branch they had been crouched on and into the foliage below and out of sight.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Neteyam sat uncomfortably as his grandmother tended to his scratches and bruises. He sat quietly, save for the occasional hiss of pain and displeasure as the Tsahik’s healing ointment occasionally stung a fresh scrape. He had not stopped thinking of the stranger in the trees, unable to figure out what to make of them. They had been dressed in the clothes of the enemy, but had made no move to attack when he had spotted them. They had held his gaze and it had stirred something within him, though he had no idea what. Neteyam hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything about it to anyone, his father quickly storming off after giving his sons an earful about how badly they had messed up. 

“{What troubles you, ma’itan?}” Neytiri’s voice spoke, resting a hand on his shoulder and pulling her son from his internal spiraling. Neteyam shifted, finally looking up at the rest of the room. Lo’ak sat brooding in the corner, Kiri close to him quietly weaving something. Tuk sat curled in their mother’s lap, peering up at him with her large eyes full of concern. Finally Jake sat quietly at the entrance to their home, cleaning one of his rifles. Neteyam swallowed, unsure of himself.

“{I saw something.}” he said finally. “{As we were leaving, I saw someone in the trees.}” 

“{One of ours?}” the Olo’eyktan asked, ears perking up at the admission.

“{I dont think so. They looked Na’vi, but wore clothes like the sky people. I thought they might be an Avatar, but I couldn't tell. They had a gun bigger than any I’ve ever seen.}”

“{Why didn’t you say something before?}” Jake scowled, looking alarmed.

“{I’m sorry sir, everything happened so quickly}” Neteyaam cringed. Both in pain and embarrassment. “{I don’t think they are with the RDA, though. I think they were the one that made that warning sound, and that gun was so big, they might have brought the Sampsons down too.}” Jake’s brow furrowed, contemplating his son's words. Half the flight back to High Camp had been Jake questioning the other warriors about who had whistled the warning and shot down the Sampsons. No one had seen or claimed the actions as their own.

“{Could they have been one of the dreamwalkers? From the Science team?}” The Tsahik mused, breaking her silence and moving from behind Neteyam as she finally finished treating his injuries.

“{I don't think so, I think I would have recognized them.}” Neteyam shook his head. They had looked young, closer to his 19 years, than the 30-40 year old Avatars that made up the Science team. Mo’at simply hummed in response, recollecting her things into a small pouch. 

“{Now is the time for rest,}” The Tsahik said finally, “{Do not let this worry you just yet, olo’eyktan. I will meditate on this stranger, perhaps Eywa has a plan for them that is not yet clear to us.}” Jake nodded, thanking the elder as she left.

“{You’re grandmother is right. Everyone get some rest, there's a lot of work to be done.}”

Neteyam lay awake for some time after that, mind filled only with those piercing golden eyes. There had been something about them, something in how they had watched him, seen him and seen through him that kept bringing him back to their eyes. The intense unreadable expression on a face just too far away for him to decipher. He wanted - No - needed to know who they were, if he ever even saw them again that is. Eywa’eveng was a big place, her forests vast and oftentimes mazelike. The stranger could be anywhere, especially if they had a pa’li or Ikran. Or perhaps Neteyam had hit his head harder than he had thought, and had hallucinated the whole thing. Perhaps there was no stranger at all. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Anthe had not meant to get into the sudden fire fight that had broken out around them, they were just out hunting for supplies. Usually Anthe got to the scene after the Na’vi raids on RDA shipments were already over, scavenging for anything left behind by the Na’vi war party before reinforcements from the RDA arrived for clean up and retrieval. More than a few times, they had had to sneak through while the Na’vi were still there, thankfully going unnoticed, though Anthe wasn’t entirely sure how or why. 

The past ten or so months since they woke up from cryosleep had not been particularly kind to them. They had lost their RDA issue boots and shirt, left only with their increasingly tattered camo pants and a black tank top that desperately needed a wash. They had managed to somewhat braid their wild tangle of hair back, but it still picked up twigs and leaves like a magnet. They were thin, and likely malnourished trying to live off of plants and whatever they could catch with half baked traps. Anthe felt wrong hunting with their rifle. It was loud and their bullets were increasingly limited. 

This raid, however, had been different. Anthe had stumbled into it entirely by accident, stalking their way towards a waterhole when the fighting broke out around them. They'd immediately climbed to higher ground, more keen to watch and wait than get caught in the middle. When Anthe found a good vantage point, out of view from anyone on the ground, they hunkered down, being careful not to catch the eye of any Banshee riders with the Na’vi. 

Most dismounted and joined the fight, or where far enough away Anthe didn’t think they had to worry, but there were two that did neither. Anthe watched the pair anxiously, trying to gauge the strategy of their movements. They had to be look outs of some sort, but only one of them seemed to actually be doing any looking. The riders seemed to argue before one dove to the ground, the other seeming frustrated even from a distance, before quickly following the first. This alarmed Anthe greatly as they realized that left a huge gap in the Na’vi’s ability to see incoming threats. Almost unconsciously, Anthe took to scanning the horizon, the Na’vi getting taken unawares by human forces was the last thing they wanted. 

It wasn’t long before they saw the sampsons coming, and the lookouts were still on the ground, unable to warn anyone of the coming danger. The whistle was out of their lips before Anthe had even thought about it. It was a warning signal, one they’d learned in training for the RDA, so there was a decent chance the Na’vi would register it as the enemy, but hopefully it was enough to warn the people without giving away their position in the trees. Anthe watched with a grimace as the first missile hit, throwing one of the train carts on its side and a plume of dirt and dust into the air. They heard people scream. Anthe readied their rifle, no longer caring if they gave themselves away. The Na’vi were not moving fast enough, they needed time, and Anthe could give them that. They took aim at one of the sampsons just as the second missile launched. Anthe lined up the shot, finding the tiny human pilot in their sights. The missile hit, there were more screams, and Anthe pulled the trigger. They watched through their sight as the bullet found its way home in the pilot's throat, shattering the helicopter's windshield as it went. The pilot's body went limp to one side, and took the rest of the aircraft with it, straight into the propeller of the other. Both crafts went down in flames, a far better outcome than Anthe had anticipated. Anthe lowered their gun, scanning to see if anyone had clocked their location as they watched the Na’’vi retreat on their Banshee. Their eyes met with someone else's suddenly, and Anthe froze. A warrior stared back at them from the back of a green Banshee, his braids blowing in the wind as he flew. For a moment, Anthe thought he would call out, but he didn’t, instead just staring back at them with his big yellow eyes. The moment felt like an eternity, but just as suddenly as he was there, he was gone, flying away as Anthe slipped from their perch back to the forest floor. 

There was little to be scavenged from the raid, most being taken by the Na’vi or destroyed in the various explosions. Anthe sat on the bank of a small creek trying to wash their tired face and hands before finding somewhere safe to sleep. Their mind wandered back to the warrior, who might have been one of the lookouts, the frustrated one, when they thought about it. Anthe wondered why he hadn’t called out. It wouldn’t have been to Anthe’s benefit if he had, they more than likely would have been assumed to be an enemy. But he had stayed quiet, he had let them go. Maybe he had spotted them after their warning call and seen Anthe take the shot on the Sampson. 

Either way, Anthe was glad not to be confronted by the Na’vi. They didn’t belong with the people anymore, not after everything they had been through, everything that had been taken from them. No clan would accept them after learning they had been raised to harm other Na’vi, even if that wasn’t their intention now. It was a small glow floating from just above the water that pulled Anthe from their thoughts. Before them was the tiny bobbing form of an atokirina’. It swayed lightly in the air before them, as if waiting for something. Hesitantly, Anthe held out a palm, unsure of what they should do in this situation. They vaguely remembered old stories of the tree spirits, but little else. The tree spirit landed softly in their outstretched hand, spinning softly in place for a moment before lifting into the air again and away, further into the forest. Anthe watched it, chewing their lip with a pointed canine. Atokirina’ were supposed to be omens, from what they could remember, or guides. The tree spirit stilled, as if waiting for something, and Anthe took that as the closest thing they were going to get to a ‘come on!’. They rose, gathering their belongings, and followed.

#atwow #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar way of water #avatar frontiers of pandora #james cameron avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam x oc #loak sully #atwow fanfiction #froglet writes fics

[roadhogsbigbelly]

can you see where she says “private”? private sexual activities, between consenting adults? like being private in their own homes, like you said?

and the abuse you’re talking about ISNT “part of the package”, there is literally no reason to normalize it in this way, you are implying there is a ~dangerous slippery slide~ between kink and abuse like a republican where there fucking isn’t. i think those kinks ““stop”” there because thats where they go from something between two consenting parties and abuse. risk aware consent matters first and foremost, which isn’t possible in an abusive situation.

and as for why she reblogged it, if you were looking around that time, you would’ve noticed it was in the midst of another trans woman getting pedojacketed and called out for bullshit! kind of crazy, but she reblogged the post for the reasons she described on it, instead of your fanfiction headcanon that casts her as a pedophile apologist.

this is the last ask i'm going to repond to and than i'm going to block you because it's very clear nothing i'm going to do or say is going to change your mind and my mutuals are genuinely concerned for my mental health. so yes the post did not say "pedophilia is good" most posts don't, most posts also don't say "transphobia is good" or "antisemintism is good" or "zionism is good" or "racism is good" must people use dogwhiles of language that's seem reasonable but with context of how the person is and they're other beliefs makes the post bad or even rethinks why you liked the original post at all.

you yourself have called out people for a reblogging a post that used transmisogynistic dog whistles. as you should, but people could use the exact same defenses you and her are using to dismiss criticism of the post. "what am i expected to do a background check on every post i reblog" and "i never said anything bad about trans women so why are you lumping me in with the person i reblogged" and like no not the inherently harmless ones but the one's that discuss gender politics or kinks or race, yeah you kind of have to AT least be able to spot dogwhistles, and when you're informed what the post actually means and you ignore it, that doesn't help your case.

they're are many posts that seem feminist and perfectly accurate but than when you find out when op talks about "men" they're actually talking about trans woman that obviously should make you reevaluate the post. very often i'll see people being like "a terf wrote this post so i stole it and it's transmisogynistic but with "terfs dni' added onto it.

the post isn't just bad BECAUSE a pedophile wrote, but the fact that it was SHOULD make you reavulate the post and the message it's sending. again this wasn't a post about pancakes or waffles or whatever it was a post about ageplay and incest kink written by someone who has a lot of reason for people to agree with them. this actually matters.

[inafieldofdaisies]

What Would Your OC Sing At Karaoke Night? Tag + (WIP) Music Whenever | Sabrina's | A continuation of @g0dspeeed's tag 🤍

If your OC was at a karaoke night, what would be their go-to song? Would they even partake? Bonus points for a little story.

I'm a bit late to the Music Monday tag, but alas this song so screams Jacob x Mercedes to me.

Now this is a part two to Sabrina's snippet, where Mercedes is feeling a bit down at the absence of a certain ginger as the night progresses. Would she choose something more provocative had he been at the table with the rest of the group, just to get a rise out of him... absolutely. But this song just feels like something she'd pick in the context of the snippet. 🤍

I smell sex and candy here Who's that lounging in my chair? And who's that casting devious stares in my direction? Mama this surely is a dream Yeah, yeah, this surely is a dream

Mercedes wrapped up her song, ignoring the hollering from around the bar, instead focusing on the table where John and Sabrina were close to giving everyone in the Spread Eagle a show. Their happiness was another pesky reminder Jacob had declined time and time again to go out with her and pretty much refused to hang out with the people who had become important to her over the last couple of months. "A girl of many talents, Mer.", Calahan whistled when she sat back down across from him. She forced a smile as she ran her index finger over the edge of her glass mindlessly, contemplating heading home first for once with her mood souring by the minute. "You okay?", Sabrina asked from John's lap, who finally seemed relaxed after spending a full hour looking like he was about to sneak out the second they shifted their eyes away from him. "Yeah.", Mercedes mumbled and got back up, "I'm gonna catch some fresh air." The second she pushed the bar's door open and another song started, she heard Hartley call out after her, "Wait up." They sat in silence, taking in the cool air outside as Hartley took a drag after drag from his cigarette before he eventually spoke up, "You know, he's gonna come around." "Who?", she retorted absently. "Jacob, the bastard who has you all mopey. Who else?" "It's nothing like that." "You can talk to us, Mer. No need to act fake happy." She sighed, "Fine. I wish he'd swallow his pride and come. But he wouldn't ever. I'm trying… to accept it." Calahan raised an eyebrow and finished his cigarette, "John did." "They ain't the same, Cal." "They're brothers.", was all he muttered before heading inside.

Hours passed in a blur where she tried her hardest to have fun, ignoring Jacob's absence until the party crowd began to thin out and John and Sabrina announced they're leaving, she turned down their offer for a ride to the ranch, choosing to stay a little longer. The two said their goodbyes, leaving the table empty with Calahan popping out for a smoke again just then and Leslie conversing with fellow Resistance members at the bar. Mercedes pushed back her chair with a frown, aiming for the ladies' room with even strides, a part of her regretting the idea to stay. Get yourself together. He's missing out. The second she was past the doorway leading to the toilets, a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her sideways into a secluded corner. "Hands off, asshole.", she said in a stern tone, fully prepared to deal with some drunken patron, instead blue eyes stared at her in amusement. "Having fun?", Jacob chirped, quirking up a smile her way. "You're here.", she retorted, feeling disbelief at his appearance. "Where else would I be?" "You said-" He interrupted her swiftly as his hands gripped her waist and brought her closer into his body, "I heard you sing. Was the song for me?" "Maybe. What did you think?", she tried to keep the giddiness in her voice at bay, but his presence and the fact he had been there a while made it almost impossible. "Loved it, sweetheart." "Yeah?" Jacob's lips brushed over hers as he whispered, "Let me drive you home and show you how much." She gripped onto his shirt, already wishing they were all alone, "Home?" "The ranch. You're staying there, aren't you? Or should I say, we are, now?" Mercedes nodded, "I need to say goodbye to Cal and Leslie." He dipped down for a brief kiss, thumb running over her cheek when he replied, "Go on then. I will be waiting." Progress. She knew it was indeed that, that the fact he had showed up at a bar in a different region held a promise, Calahan's words came back to her as she left him to lurk in the shadows.

Tagging @josephseedismyfather @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @euryalex @detectivelokis @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @madparadoxum @trench-rot @josephslittledeputy @dumbassdep @theelderhazelnut @purplehairsecretlair @neonneurons @shegetsburned @clicheantagonist @poisonedtruth @cassietrn @wrathfulrook @voidika @harmonyowl @schoute @jacobsneed @detectivelokis @strangefable @strafethesesinners and anyone that would like to do the tag(s) <3

#Finally got inspo for Mercedes' part 🤍 #Look at Calahan being a supportive lad 👏🥺 #He might he chaotic af but damn if he doesn't pull himself together when he's needed 😄 #oc: mercedes “mercy” sibley #oc: calahan hartley #jacob x mercedes #jacob seed x mercedes sibley #jacob seed x oc #fc5 ocs #fc5 deputy #far cry 5 oc #snippet #oc karaoke night song #oc karaoke tag #song lyrics #favorite songs #oc character #oc aesthetic #oc reference #character reference #ship dynamics #ocs #original characters #snippets #wip: in hope of tomorrow