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verysium · 5 months

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if you had to associate a city from the world w any bllk character of your liking which cities with who and why? sorry for the odd question lmao it just crossed my mind. love ur works btw!💗

i love unconventional questions like these cus then i have to really think hard to come up with a good answer. i will admit i am slightly biased because i feel that the current teams they play for already represent them well, so some of these might be a repeat. also i am not that well-travelled (wish i could if i had the money), so i'm merely going off the reputed description of each city.

rin would be paris. i know it sounds unoriginal, but pxg rin has already grown 10x prettier than he was during the u-20 arc, so something in that city air must be doing him right. also i feel like he just dresses like a stereotypical european lol. the winter coat and scarf combo plus the perpetual scowl on his face. he probably walks super quickly down the metro too. i have this fic in the drafts where rin and reader meet up at his shitty parisian apartment and eat hotpot and smoke cigs on a random sidewalk in winter. rin is also high class. it just comes naturally to him. like if u ever take a walk near place charles de gaulle (the arc de triomphe area), there's this quiet luxury that is prominent in the fancy hotels and brand stores that make up the vicinity. even better if u go during christmas time because they have these intricately detailed light fixtures. i remember seeing this one cartier store with a giant glittering jaguar on the front. not to mention their swarovski christmas tree. rin's like that. i feel like in a few years once he goes fully professional, the media would go wild over his poise and refined grace. he just has that subtly enticing aura, like a silent glamour.

sae would be madrid. not just because it's canon but also because i feel like the city is just the polar opposite of him. madrid is one of the hottest cities in europe, and sae's just perpetually cold. even in the literal sense, i feel like he would have cold hands and feet too. if u see those wes anderson style travel commercials of madrid, it's always some variation of pastel houses, sunshine, and bikini beaches. that is exactly what sae is not like. i also chose this for...*ahem* spoiler reasons in my upcoming fic chapter which i'm not going to delve too much into. but the gist is that the contrast is why sae fits so well in madrid and also why it's a bit tragic to see how drastically he has to change in order to adapt to a new environment. if not spain, i feel like he'd still end up somewhere with a large coastline because of how fundamental the sea is to him throughout his childhood. it's sort of his safe space. if i had the choice to assign two cities, i'd also include his hometown of kamakura since he seems like the type to be secretly sentimental. i picture sae as someone who values his roots even though he constantly says he has bigger and better places to be. like he would tell everyone that he was born in the wrong country but then proceed to sigh melodramatically whenever he actually misses home.

kaiser is a weird mix of munich, new york, and las vegas. i chose munich largely because of his german roots. i also picture him as bavarian. new york and las vegas are mostly attributed to the duality of his character. when we first see kaiser, he's this figure of flamboyance. his entrance was hands-down the most theatrically dramatic one, and there are theatre motifs throughout his dialogue (eg. roles on a stage, rejecting yoichi's script/play). i feel like this would fit well with the extravagant nightlife las vegas is known for and, of course, broadway in NYC. furthermore, kaiser is this prime example of clawing your way to the top. he seems charismatic and welcoming at first, but then we see his internal motives and well...it's something. he is cutthroat when it comes to competition, and he's not afraid of using others in his ascent to the top. i mean...he literally holds people by the hair as if they're mere objects. that seems pretty ruthless and machiavellian to me. i doubt he even humanizes any of his rivals; rather, he views them as opponents to his ideology. there's also a reason why they say if you make it in new york, you can make it anywhere. there's a highly individualistic mindset, and if you really want something, the resources are there for you to achieve it. kaiser is like that in the sense he is willing to put his all into getting something he desires, even up to an obsessive degree.

yukimiya is london. like u know what taylor swift said about the english? that's yukimiya for you. he treats his mother right, sleeps 8 hours a day, and said his first love was when his friend's 16-year-old sister kissed him on the forehead. he cannot be any more perfect. not to mention he's a literal model. like hello? IMG is calling.

shidou is somewhere in ohio. i'm not going to elaborate. the man's just weird.

isagi is somewhere rural. idk why but he strikes me as a country boy. probably helps his parents on the rice farm and bikes long distances to school. i found a lot of parallels between him and hinata shoyo from haikyu mostly because they're both from a smaller, lesser known neighborhood, have a pretty ordinary childhood, and become inspired by this influential role model. my secondary reason is just that isagi doesn't seem like he'd even be familiar with the urban landscape. he's lived his life in humble origins, so i think there might be some culture shock once he actually gets to the city. like...boy was genuinely amazed when he entered that blue lock facility. never seen so much high-end equipment and technology in his life.

ego lives in a sewer. i cannot tell u his precise location just that he probably hasn't washed his hair in 45 days and is still surviving off processed ramen noodles. please pray for him.

barou is los angeles and if not socal, then he's from the bay area. i took one good look at his artificially dyed red hair and the answer was clear. he is not immune to trends guys. it's almost embarrassing. furthermore, i think the general silicon valley area is known to be hardworking, and that encapsulates barou pretty well. he is disciplined to the core, and he knows that success is not going to come to him without him actively trying to reach it. he's also...(let's be real guys)...just a teensy weensy bit arrogant. he calls himself a king, as in a literal monarch. and he says this in the most serious tone too. now he rightfully earned that title, but it doesn't erase the secondhand cringe i felt from reading that dialogue LOL.

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

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From Your Lips

Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone else is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind.

Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Established Relationship. Smut, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

Word Count: 3,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is set during Season 2, Episode 15 (“Revelations”); warnings for themes/plot points from the canon episode - rabid dogs, mentions of JJ being attacked by dogs, mentions of dogs eating/killing a woman (a random woman who is not named here), animal death - mentions of JJ having to shoot the dogs (killing them) in self defence, gun violence, mentions of Reid being kidnapped (no details of that are discussed in this fic), religious themes (in this fic, religious motifs are used to encourage sexual behaviour - spoken about as though God made us to have sex with each other, not to discourage it as the Christian religion does); symptoms of shock/PTSD - JJ waves a gun in the reader’s face because she’s scared; general emotional angst, mentions of JJ blaming herself for Reid being kidnapped; mentions of blood (from JJ’s injuries); the reader is completely gender neutral - there are no identifying pronouns used for the reader (other than the ‘you’ I generally use for fics) and the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way; use of Y/N, mentions of a pre-established sexual relationship between JJ and the reader - it could be a friends with benefits situation, it could be secret lovers, it’s never quite specified; JJ is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, but there is no outright dom/sub relationship; the reader calls JJ 'Jay’, 'sweet girl’, 'sweets’, and 'good girl’; using sex to distract from one’s emotional problems; (technically) semi-public sex because they’re in the bathroom where anyone could walk in on them (but they’re not caught by anyone); kissing/heated making-out; the reader fingers JJ; neck biting/marking (JJ receiving); hair-pulling(JJ receiving); praise kink; clothed/mostly clothed sex; I believe that’s everything.

A/N: This was primarily inspired by the picture of JJ on the right. I saw it and I was like 'damn she fine’ but I knew it was from Revelations so I was like 'damn she fine but I know she’s havin a real bad time rn’ - so I did the thing I do best: smut based off emotional trauma. This is basically the scene where Emily comes to talk to her in the bathroom, but replacing Emily with a reader character and then they fuck. Also the title comes from the phrase 'from your lips to God’s ears’ because religious imagery. I had so much fun with this lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

...

You couldn’t help but to feel bad for JJ.

You knew that everyone was concerned about Reid - rightfully so. Worried about where he was, if he was alive or not. But you were the type of person who preferred to focus on the things you could control - the things right in front of you. JJ was someone you had known for long enough that you knew how to comfort her, and you pushed the ‘what-ifs’ about Reid to the back of your mind in favor of focusing on her.

You knew that she was intensely shaken up by the entire situation. Not only the fact that she had been nearly mauled by a couple of dogs, pieces of her skin torn up and marred. But it was the fact that the team knew for certain that those same dogs had ripped a woman apart only a few days ago. You knew that JJ hated being forced to shoot those dogs. She was someone with a tender heart. You knew that all of this was affecting her.

On top of all that, she was likely blaming herself for Reid being put in danger, even though there was nothing she could have done to save him.

While everyone was gathered in the main room, looking through Hankle’s things for any hint as to where he had taken Reid, you moved toward the back of the house, knowing that JJ had gone to the bathroom to ‘freshen up’. You knew her well enough to easily pick up that it was code for her needing a moment to escape from everyone else in some attempt to calm down.

The door to the bathroom was open just a crack, so you took a peek, not wanting to startle her by knocking.

You could see her hunched over the sink, stress knit through her muscles as she gripped the sides of the porcelain. You felt a twinge of guilt flow through you as the thought occurred to you - even in such a state of duress, she was so beautiful. Painted in agony or pleasure, she was gorgeous.

She looked almost angelic like this, and you hated to believe that torture looked good on someone like her. (Perhaps it was the fact that you had seen her ‘tortured’ before - sweaty and begging, half on the brink of madness as she pleaded to get your tongue between her thighs once again.)

You found your eyes admiring the sliver of skin that peeked out between her white button up and the low waist of her simple black dress pants. You found yourself wanting to actually smack yourself as a form of scolding when you couldn’t help but to admire the gentle dip of her waist and the curve of her ass.

You felt sinful for thinking such carnal thoughts, even when she was so wrought with stress, clearly so wrecked from the night’s events.

Perhaps it was the fact that you had come so close to losing her, and now that urge to possess her bubbled closer to the surface than ever. But you pushed it down as you gently nudged open the bathroom door.

When the creak of the hinges echoed through the room, you certainly did not expect to be greeted with a gun in your face.

JJ had whipped around much faster than you expected, and pointed her Bureau issued glock right at you. Clearly, she expected you to be a threat. The look in her eyes was positively wild - like a frightened animal being cornered by a fierce predator. Which of course, was something that had happened to her only a few hours before.

“JJ.” You called out her name, keeping your voice firm, trying to ground her in this reality.

Her eyes continued darting around, glancing into the hallway behind you as though she was expecting another rabid dog to suddenly appear there.

“JJ, it’s just me.” You told her, reaching up and gently easing the gun down.

She was still incredibly tense, so you reached up with your other hand and massaged along the inner part of her wrist with two fingers, getting her muscles to relax enough that she let go of the gun, dropping it into your hand. You made sure the safety was turned on before you placed the gun on the closed toilet lid. Then you turned and closed the bathroom door behind you, sealing the two of you into a quiet bubble to hopefully give her time to calm down.

JJ let out a harsh breath - a sound that was mostly a sob strangled inside of her chest. She ran her hands through her already wild hair, tears gathering in her eyes once again. She turned to face the wall and you instinctively reached out, running your hands gently across her shoulders.

One of your hands stayed as a comforting grip on her upper arm and the other rubbed an open palm up and down her back. You hoped you could soothe her in some way. You truly hated how she quivered under your touch, how you could feel those sobs trapped inside of her lungs; the echoes of cries she refused to release because she felt that she needed to put up a strong front.

“It’s so stupid.” JJ complained.

Her voice was wet with the unreleased tears as she held her head in her hands, still facing away from you. Her long blonde hair easily created a curtain around her face so that couldn’t properly see her.

“I grew up with dogs! I had dogs! I love dogs, I would never-”

“It’s not your fault, Jay.” You pressed, using your affectionate nickname for her. “When people train animals to attack like that, there’s nothing you can do.” You leaned in, gently resting your cheek on her shoulder, assuring her that you were there before you whispered the next words. “You had to shoot them.”

JJ let out a harsh whimper, clearly struggling even more now with holding back her sobs. You wanted to tell her that it would be okay to cry, but you knew that it would be useless. She was raised as the strong brick wall of a daughter in her family, and she was not used to showing weakness - especially not used to crying.

“I should have stayed with Spencer.” She announced quietly. “I shouldn’t have let him go off without backup. I should have-”

“Jay, that’s not your fault either.” You told her firmly, cutting off whatever self blaming rant she was about to go on.

She muddled in a bitter silence, her arms shaking lightly as she rocked her head back and forth - shaking her head in the negative in response to what you had said.

She had to believe it was her fault. If Spencer didn’t come back from this, her self blame would only be worse.

“JJ, look at me.” You demanded gently. She didn’t move, and you reached over and put a hand on her wrist, attempting to pull her hands away from her face. “JJ, please look at me.”

When your voice warbled out the plea, she finally wavered to your touch, and let you turn her around to face you. You caught a glimpse of the bright red stains soaked into the sleeve of her shirt, splattered up across her front, and you tried to ignore the sickly curl in your gut because of it.

You had the urge to lift her bandaged forearm up and lay a few kisses on it, like you would have kissed a child’s scraped knee - more so for the emotional comfort than any possible health benefits. But you knew that would have been more for you than for her.

So instead, you reached out, brushing past that tangled curtain of blonde to gently cup her face with both your hands. You handled her with an intensely delicate touch as you tilted her gaze up from the ground.

A few tears had managed to escape, and you brushed them away with your thumbs. JJ sniffled quietly, sounding quite small and defeated as she did so. For the first time that night, she felt a slight calm wash over her as the comfort of your presence truly settled in.

She was eternally grateful to have you there with her. She reached up and gripped onto your wrists, keeping you anchored there. She skimmed her thumbs along the top of your hands, enjoying the smooth feeling of your skin as you stared at her broken face - a tearful angel that made your heart ache for her.

You were called by the higher purpose to worship that angel - to turn her pain into pleasure.

Before you could stop yourself, you found yourself drifting toward her, leaning in and planting your lips on hers. It certainly wasn’t the first time you had kissed JJ, but it most definitely wasn’t the most opportune.

She easily returned the kiss, pressing her mouth into yours with a soft neediness. It was when she let out a small moan, the sound vibrating against your lips that you felt that sting of guilty panging at you once again. The fact that lustful heat and your grief for her were colliding so heavily inside of you made you feel like just as much of a monster as the man who had taken Reid and sicked dogs on her.

You pulled away from the kiss sharply, putting only an inch of distance between the two of you, not letting go of her cheeks. She didn’t let go of the hold she had on your wrists either - you wanted to keep her assured of your presence because she did need the comfort during this hard time.

“I’m sorry-” You gasped out an apology for kissing her so inappropriately, but JJ, ever the woman to know exactly what she wanted, didn’t let you finish.

“Don’t apologize.” She ordered sharply. “I need you.”

She kept her eyes closed, her brows tight with anguish as you gently laid your forehead against hers.

You couldn’t help but to question it.

“Now, Jay?” You asked quietly. “Right now?”

“I need to forget.” She whispered, her words so timid that her breath barely ghosted your lips, even with you so close to her.

Your heart ached at her tone, and when you didn’t reply or didn’t move to kiss her again, she continued.

“Every time I close my eyes, I just see… I just see those eyes glowing in the dark. I just hear growling.” She admitted, a few more tears escaping that you rushed to thumb away. “I need to forget it. Please, help me forget.”

“Anything for you, sweets.” You whispered, using another affectionate nickname for her.

You leaned in for another kiss, firmer this time.

You let your instincts take over then - all the lust you had been pushing down rushing to the surface and servicing you well. If she needed to forget, then you would certainly make her. You would make her feel so good that all she would be able to focus on would be the hot blood thrumming through her ears. The medicine that God intended.

You pushed her up against the edge of the sink, keeping one hand on the side of her face and moving the other to her hip. You skimmed your fingers along that tempting strip of skin right above the waistband of her low-rise pants, causing her to shiver at the teasing touch touch.

In a moment, your forceful dominance, the way you handled her easily had her moaning into your mouth again, much louder this time. You moved the hand on her cheek around to comb your fingers through her hair. You dug your knuckles in, setting a powerful grip at the base of her skull that held her exactly where you wanted her. It was a tender pain that had her gasping for you as you shoved your tongue past her lips, now on a very determined mission to fuck every last dreadful thought out of her head.

Your fingertips continued to dance along the waistband of her pants, gently teasing her skin in a great contrast to the forceful movement of your lips. Every single movement was cleverly calculated to make her mind numb. Right down to the way you tugged at her hair and yanked on her bottom lip with your teeth as you pulled away from the kiss, leaving her panting wildly.

Her eyes were closed much more gently this time, her eyelids fluttering lightly, and you hoped that you had already reduced those nightmarish visions to dust as she relaxed into your touch, buttery under your fingers as always.

“Thank you,” JJ breathed out, her voice sweet as ever as you bit a path down her neck. You wanted to leave noticeable marks that would stand out among the scratches and bumps she had acquired that night.

You truly didn’t care if anyone else on the team spotted one of those marks and knew what it was. You were paying tribute to her, leaving your own kind of thank you on her neck as you sucked the soft skin between your teeth. Your fingers finally found the button of her pants and easily popped it open blind, pulling the zipper down in a moment. Without a second of hesitation, you shoved your fingers past the barrier of her simple cotton underwear.

With one last sharp bite, you moved your head back up from the crevice of her neck then, pressing your forehead against hers once again. You kept that tight grip on the back of her hair, a small hinge of pain that grounded her, that assured her you were there.

Your fingers easily found her clit, and you made the bold choice to begin rubbing her without wetting your fingers first. You knew that it would be a pleasurable sting that would certainly push any other thoughts from her mind.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N-”

JJ gasped, arching her hips away from the edge of the sink to meet your touch, her lips falling open beautifully and her eyes still so gently fallen shut. She looked so fucking angelic like this.

More tears kissed her lashes as you pressed harder on her clit, moving your fingers in hard, slow circles. You could assure yourself that these were tears from pleasure, not from anguish or pain. You had rewritten the stony hurt inside her muscles, rethreading the cords tight with the need for an orgasm where they were previously pulled tight with stress.

“Please!” She begged so beautifully when she wanted to.

It felt like its own unique reward to know that you were one of the only people that all powerful Jennifer Jareau ever begged to.

You felt her becoming wetter around your fingers, flooding her underwear in response to your simple touches, and there was only one thing you wanted before you would make her cum.

“Look at me.” You told her, the words quiet on your lips but so utterly full of confident power.

JJ whimpered in response, not yet opening her eyes, and you stopped the movement of your hand altogether. She let out a very displeased sound and you began slowly pulling back, threatening to leave her hanging (which was a very empty threat in this context - not that she had to know that). It was something that immediately caused her eyes to shoot open as she reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. She canted her hips up, desperately trying to get your touch back where she needed you most.

“Please,” She pleaded again, all hot breath and desperation - all for you.

Staring into those blue eyes, lit with a desperate blaze of lust as she panted out humid breaths across your chin, you were only reminded of the fact that everything you did was for her. Everything in your life was a worship in her name, no act too small to dedicate to such a perfect Goddess.

“Good girl.”

You praised her, knowing it was exactly what she needed as you angled your fingers back between her wet folds. You gathered up that wetness, slicking up your fingers before you placed your determined touch right on her throbbing clit. This time, rather than being slow and calculated, you were quick and determined. You made speedy movements that you knew would draw her to the quick finish that would perfectly empty her mind.

“Always so good for me, Jay.”

“Thank you, oh! Oh, fuck!”

She started singing your praises in her own way as your touches sped up, the sound of her wetness just barely muffled by the fabric of her pants and underwear, becoming delightfully sloppy under your fingers. With the way she was unconsciously canting her hips toward you, humping against your hand, you knew she was so close.

You leaned in, and while looking her in the eyes the whole time, you bit down on her bottom lip and roughly pulled it out, letting the skin snap back in a rough possession of her as she panted and moaned the whole time.

“Cum for me.” You demanded in a rough growl, finding yourself comparable to one of those rabid dogs. Though you were consuming her in a way that renewed her life, rather than trying to end it. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

“Fuck!” JJ cried out, an epic prayer as she spiraled into the all consuming pleasure of her orgasm.

Though you wanted nothing more than to listen to those beautiful sounds, you had to silence her most pitiful orgasmic cries by clasping your lips over hers. You didn’t want the others hearing - you wanted to keep those sounds all to yourself. You muffled her noises with a tight suction of your mouth as you continued to work her right through the orgasm, keeping a tight grip on her hair the whole time to show her exactly who she belonged to.

With the crucifix mounted on the bathroom wall, the knowledge of Hankle’s God staring right at you as you did all this - you couldn’t find an ounce of shame inside you. Not now. You could find no better way to honor God than to lovingly dedicate your life to the embodiment of his best work.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind - this is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation of it or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written. I have not written any other fics about JJ at the time of this being posted, but if you like my writing style, definitely feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists.

#sundrop writes #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x gender neutral reader #jennifer jareau x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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spidernuggets · 4 months

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Jason Todd x Reader

Warning: Mentions of suicide attempt

"You're not crazy, Y/n! If anyone thinks so, they're the crazy ones-"

You laugh. "Thanks, Jason. I like being friends with you too."

"Jesus, keep it down, would ya," you say groggily, rubbing your eye as you walk out of your room, utterly confused at the commotion unravelling in the lobby. "The fuck is going on?"

"You people are insane! I'd rather be with Deathstroke than with you assholes..." Jason says, the last statement he claims more quietly. A harsh truth, revealing how little his supposed teammates thinks of him.

"Jason drew crosses all over my mirror after telling me to go get looked at by a fucking priest!" Rachel yells in anger.

You looked over at Jason in confusion.

"Yeah, I told her to get looked at, so what?" Jason yells back. "You almost fucking killed me! And I didn't draw those crosses, I haven't got a fucking clue what you're on about, how many time do I have to say it!"

You stare at the two, still delirious from your interrupted nap. Jason would say some fucked up stuff but drawing crosses? He wouldn't go that far. Barking and yapping is the most he'd do.

"And he put a beer bottle in my room," Hank says.

"And a picture of Elis," Dawn adds.

"And an orange soda bottle," Donna finishes.

The adults list the things Jason presumably planted in their rooms. But for what motif? Just to piss them off? Wait. Jason literally fell from a building like, what? Yesterday? Why the fuck would he pull this shit then..

"Wait, wait, wait. Pause, I can not stress this enough," you say. "I understand Rachel's situation, what the fuck about you guys?" You ask the other adults.

"Jason just put some shit that was deeply connected to our past in our room. If he pulls something like this again, I'll forget what team he's on," Hank replies.

You cross your arms. "Okay, did any of yous tell Jason about this deep shit about your past?"

Rachel and Gar's head turned to the adults as they all looked at each other with doubt.

"Oh my fucking days," You scoffed, aggressively rubbing your temples.

Before you can scold at them, you notice Jason is already gone.

Jeez, maybe I am a shit teammate.

You ram into his room first and instantly run out when you see he's not there. You check the surveillance room, the training room. Not there, either. Finally, you speed up to the roof. And there he was, standing at the edge.

Your heartbeat's pace picked up.

"Jason," you called out. He looked over his shoulder, then looked right ahead of him.

"C'mon, Jason, get down from there. We can work this out," you slowly say, taking small steps towards him.

You see him shake his head. "There's nothing to work out," he says. "I'm just gonna fuck things up again. There's a poison in me. That shit spreads. Hurts even the most healthy people."

You stip at a safe distance where Jason wouldn't make any irrational movements if you'd come any closer, and you lean against the ledge near him.

"Mm, well, what about people who's already unhealthy?"

Jason turns his head to look at you in confusion.

"Jason, all of us here has been through some tough shit. From my experience, this 'poison' you're talking about, it's nothing compared to what I had to face. I'm sorry that they accused you, Jason. I don't even know why they did- they don't even have a good reason to," you explain, making sure he knew that you were not against him, that he wasn't alone.

"I don't know if this makes any difference," you continue, "but I believe that you didn't do any of that."

"You don't?" Jason asks in disbelief, yet still a hint of hope in his voice.

"Of course I don't. You're my teamma... You're my friend, Jason," you reply back, thinking it's safe to step closer to him as you reach a hand out towards him. "Please come down," you pleaded.

Jason stares at your offering hand for a while, then glances the view in front of him before returning his gaze to your hand.

He sighs, taking your hand in his and steoping diwn from the ledge, leaving a gasp of relief from you before you pull him into a tight embrace.

A few seconds later, you push him away, realising you may have crossed some boundaries.

"Sorry.. I- I'm just glad you came down," you admitted as Jason just shrugged in reply.

You sighed as you sat down, your back leaning against the ledge, patting the ground beside you, inviting Jason to sit beside you.

"Jason, you are kind of an asshole. I mean, you did tell Rachel to go get looked at by a priest- I know she almost tried to kill you, but she still needs to get a hold of her powers. I'm not saying it's not a reason to be scared of her! If I was in your place, I'd be freaked out by her, too. Just give her some time. Plus, you did call both her and Rose freaks..." Jason slightly nods at his mistake. "But... you're one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met," you admit as it seemed like Jason's head could've snapped off his neck from how fast he turned.

"Don't let it get to your ego," you say before continuing, "I mean, you can spar blindfolded! You survived being kidnapped by Dr. Light and Deathstroke. Oh... and Jason," you call out to him before you shift yourself to face him properly. "I know you're always saying you're okay after your... fall. But it's not a sign of weakness to ask for help. You don't need to prove yourself to anybody. Not to me, at least," you finish, placing a hand kn his shoulder for assurance.

All Jason does is look at you, probably searching for any sort of trap or lies or whatnot. You believe you've said too much that things got awkward and he probably wants to be alone.

"Yeah.. I've been talking for too long," you agree to his probable thoughts as you try to get up.

But Jason stops you, grabbing a hold of your arm.

"No," he says, "I... Thank you," he confesses as you take your place back on the ground. "Yeah, I guess I am an asshole," he continues, looking at the concrete underneath him. "I don't know... It's just shit I say. Sometimes, I say it without thinking. I say a lot of shit without thinking," he admits his wrongdoings.

"And that's okay," you reply, placing your hand on top of his. "We make mistakes. But we talk it out, and we forgive."

"I didn't put all that shit there or draw the crosses, I swear-"

"Jason, you don't need to try convince me. I told you, I believe you," you reassure him.

"Didn't really believe that you believed me," he shrugged. "The others still probably think I'm insane."

"If they do, I'll just punch some sense into them," you tell him. "Besides, they can't think you're any crazier than me."

Jason's eyebrows scrunched together. "What do you mean?"

"Oh shit," you laughed. "You never knew about how I became a Titan, and how I even met the others,."

Jason shakes his head.

"Well, I was running away from my mom. Criminal, but not one of those well-known ones. Robbed a few jewels here and there, had some of her workers try and catch me. Then, when I lost them, the only place I could think of staying was an alleyway. Luckily, it was on the safe side of town. That's when Dick found me. Brought me back to the tower-"

"He really has a thing for bringing unconscious people back to the tower, huh?" Jason interrupts, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"That sounds horrible without context," you say, then continue, "but yeah. When I woke up, I was absolutely shitting myself. I was my bag, but when I got to the elevator, the passcode wouldn't unlock. That's when everyone came. Hank, Dawn, Donna, Dick, Gar, and Rachel. I was so freaked out. So I threw my homemade bombs at them-"

"I'm sorry, bombs??"

"Calm down. They were just glitter bombs," you say as Jason makes a face in both confusion and amusement.

"Bht my mom taught me a few tricks. Pinned Gar to the wall with a couple of knives. Dawn was stuck to the floor with some knives, too. I think Hank was blinded by some glitter. But yeah, eventually, they got me to calm down," you finish, laughing at the memory.

"Jesus... I still can't get over the glitter bombs. I thought you just made flash and concussion bombs," Jason says.

You shook your head. "Nah, I only learned how to make those later. The glitter bombs were just a hobby. So, I guess you yourself aren't as insane as you think you are. I mean, even when I used to go to school, kids would think that I'm crazy, but I probably am, like, glitter bombs as a hobby? I-"

"You're not crazy, Y/n! If anyone thinks so, they're the crazy ones-"

You laugh. "Thanks, Jason. I like being friends with you too."

Jason's reaction is hesitant, but he smiles and laughs with you.

"C'mon, let's go back down. You need a rest. A long rest. We can even listen to that loud metal music you listen to," you say as you get up, dusting yourself off.

suggestions for part 2?

Jason copies you, getting up and wiping any dirt off from his pants, and a genuine smile on his face as he follows you down back to his room.

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somehowmags · 4 months

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my @mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @onawhimsicot! i decided to go with a pokemon au, explanation of their teams below!

tallulah's team:

galarian weezing: this is a gift from wilbur! it's essentially a service pokemon for tallulah, as galarian weezing purifies the air around it, making it easier for her to breath

chimecho: tallulah's partner pokemon! i like to imagine they met when tallulah was playing some music by phil's house and they've been together ever since

carnivine: on the wiki it said that tallulah had several venus fly traps, so i decided to give her a carnivine! carnivine was one of the first pokemon she caught, with her and chayanne spending a long time staked out in a swamp to find one

eevee: my friend roleb suggested eevee! she really seems like she would have one aksjdfhlaksdf eevee and carnivine get along really well! no idea what it would evolve into though lol

flabebe: i think chayanne and tallulah found this flabebe injured during their journey and immediately got attached while nursing it back to health! more flowers for tallulah askjfhskladf

pumpkaboo: a gift from chayanne! i imagine she hangs out with pumpkaboo when she's feeling lonely

chayanne's team:

lechonk: he has this for technoblade related reasons aklsdfhlkasdfha

capsakid and farfetch'd: these two are together as they're both cooking themed pokemon! i imagine the farfetch'd was a gift from philza and chayanne just woke up one night to capsakid staring him down and was like yeah alright. farfetch'd also evolves into sirfetch'd, which is part of the little knight motif i wanted to have for chayanne

riolu: another suggestion from roleb! this is chayanne's main partner, and he's a very fighty lil guy

charcadet: knight motif part two! charcadet also provides some needed firepower for chayanne's team composition which is something i imagine chayanne is concerned about

absol: this is actually one of phil's pokemon! he sent it along with chayanne and tallulah to keep an eye on them because absol can sense danger

pokemon not pictured but still a part of this au:

phil's rookidee: it's brian! he takes messages between tallulah and chayanne and phil

phil's darkrai: tallulah and chayanne's babysitter when they were little

phil's tatsugiri and dondozo: i nearly gave tallulah and chayanne these two before deciding to keep their teams small and mostly in the baby stage, but i like to think phil let them play with them sometimes

unrelated trivia:

you may be asking "mags, why is chayanne's floatie a ducklett and not a psyduck" i am a dipshit who forgot psyduck existed

you may also be asking "mags, aren't overalls bobby's thing" by the time i remembered that i was already halfway through lineart

the plot of this au is tallulah and chayanne going on their pokemon adventure while dealing with the villainous federation. tallulah is doing concerts while chayanne goes through the gym challenge!

hope you enjoy!

#qsmp #mcyt #mcytblr #fanart #my art #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #pokemon au

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twomiddlefingersforthehaters · 5 months

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_Art Book of Naruto Uzumaki_ Part-5

もう単純に普段と違う絵が描けたのが楽しかった。こそれはもうほとんど、ナルトとサスケを描いた、というよりカエルとタカを描いて喜んでました。

This one was fun simply because I got to draw in a different style. It was great to depict Naruto and Sasuke, or I should say, toad and hawk.

ナルトとサスケが対立していく本編の図式を、一枚の絵で表現したかったんです。共にお互いのことを良く分かっているので、刃を交わしながらも険しさは見せず、表情はむしろ冷静なくらい。ここでわざとらしく表情を露にしてしまったら、冷めてしまうと思うんです。感情を出さない、その静けさが逆に恐いかと。背景にも対立・対比を表現するために、"空と海”という2つのモチーフを入れ込みました。決して交わることのない緑と赤、空と海ですね。

I wanted to express the concept of the main storyline, where Naruto and Sasuke come into conflict, in a single image. Since they know each other so well, they aren't showing hostility even as they cross knives. They look rather calm. I thought that if I gave them obviously antagonistic expressions, it would come off as too deliberate. By hiding their feelings, I hoped the calm atmosphere would seem chilling. I put the two motifs of sky and sea in the background in order to express a sense of the characters' conflict and contrast. The green and red, and the sky and sea, represent things that never mix.

対称をイメージした構図で、ナルトがサスケの背中の上をぐるんと回っています。ふたりとも手足が同じ様なポーズになるようにして、背景に物を印で配置することで全体のバランスをとってます。さらにナルトの巻物が◯印になっていて ...そう、実は◯と×にもなっているんです(笑)。とにかく対称ということで、バランスをすごく意識して描きました。今見るとアニメの影響からか、絵柄が少し変わり始めてるんじゃないかな? 結構お気に入りの一枚です。

I wanted a sense of symmetry in this picture with Naruto rolling over Sasuke's back. I positioned these two with their arms and legs in similar stances, then I balanced the overall composition by putting two crossing scrolls in the background. Also, the scroll Naruto is holding forms a circle...yep, it's an X and an O (laugh). Basically, it was symmetry that kept me focused on the overall balance in this one. Looking at this picture now, it appears that my drawing style has changed a bit since then. Maybe I've been influenced by the anime? This is one I like a lot.

これは好きな絵ですね｡この構図も、左右対称を意識して描きました。鎖と紐... あと腕も対称なんです。こじんまりした絵になっちゃいそうだったので、マントで風を表現して動きを出しました。ナルトとサスケのからみ合っている手足がうまくいったかな、と。

This is one of my favorites. I focused on making a symmetrical composition here too. The symmetrical elements include the chain and the cord, and Naruto and Sasuke's arms. To keep the picture from looking cramped and static, I added the cloaks blowing in the wind. I think Naruto's and Sasuke's tangled limbs turned out nicely.

ジャンプの表紙に載った絵ですね。戦隊モノっぽいものを描いてくれって言われて。戦隊モノって見栄切るじゃないですか。決めポーズですね。で、サスケがキャラ的にそんなポーズをとるものか? と悩んだわけです。でもナルトはノリノリで、サクラも楽しそうにポーズをとっている。じゃあサスケは恥ずかしそうに･･･みたいな感じならOKかな、と。

This was on the front cover of Jump. I got a request to draw something like a superhero team for kids. Those heroes really strike great poses, don't they? This is Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura in hero poses. I wondered if Sasuke's personality would allow him to pose like that. But I knew Naruto would be willing to pose for sure, and so would Sakura, so I thought it'd be okay for Sasuke to strike a pose, if somewhat bashfully.

#masashi kishimoto #naruto #art book #Weekly Shonen Jump 2000 #Weekly Shonen Jump 2011 #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #my stuff

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fuwapower-prettycure · 9 months

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EDIT: Character designs are outdated. Check this post out for their updates looks!

Finally decided to branch out and post my fanseries on places other than discord!

Fuwa Power☆Pretty Cure is my first solo fanseries. The main themes are self-care, loving who you are, and maintaining good habits. Sleep, stars, the moon, clouds, clocks, and wings serve as the primary motifs.

Pictured above are (In order): Series Logo, Maika/Cure Reverie, Kirari/Cure Shine, Kotomi/Cure Lullaby, Sara/Cure Cozy, and the team henshin items. There are five charms because of a 6th ranger who is yet to be introduced.

Mozhizuki Maika / Cure Reverie – Maika is a 13-year old girl starting her first year at Fuwayama Prep. She is somewhat introverted with a passion for anything fantastical or grand. She struggles in school, often getting lost in her daydreams. Despite being very amiable, she has few friends due to her self-isolating tendencies. She wants more than anything to find her place in the world without having to sacrifice her creativity and wonder. After meeting Yumeno, Nighty, and Twyla she becomes Cure Reverie, the Pretty Cure of imagination and dreams. Her theme color is pink.

Hirano Kirari / Cure Shine – Known as ‘Kira-Kirari’ by her growing following, Kirari is a 13-year old first year who spends her free time singing and dancing as a small-time idol. She is hesitant to look at idol agencies because of how much she values creative freedom. Kirari sometimes struggles to separate herself from idol activities, but finds solace in spending time with her friends. Her biggest joy comes from giving anyone who sees her performance a shining light they can always rely on. After meeting Yumeno, Nighty, and Twyla she becomes Cure Shine, the Pretty Cure of guidance and light. Her theme color is yellow.

Asahara Kotomi / Cure Lullaby – Kotomi is a 13-year old who, despite being one of the high ranked first years, is not well known among her peers because of her aloof persona. Behind her air of indifference, though, is a girl who thrives in chaotic situations and cares greatly despite not often showing it. She has a large family with two working parents and 4 younger siblings who she often cares for. Kotomi does her absolute best to provide a good example for her siblings as their loving big sister. After meeting Yumeno, Nighty, and Twyla she becomes Cure Lullaby, the Pretty Cure of care and tenderness. Her theme color is purple.

Nagumo Sara / Cure Cozy – Sara is a 14-year-old second year at Fuwayama Preparatory. She is the president of the Community Club, a group who works to support local businesses and charities the best they can through fundraisers, donation drives, and raising awareness. She is more often than not the voice of reason, but has a hidden mischievous side. When it's time to let loose, she can become the life of the party. Sara is shown to be independent and mature beyond her years despite still having come childlike tendencies. After meeting Yumeno, Nighty, and Twyla she becomes Cure Cozy, the Pretty Cure of comfort and security. Her theme color is green.

#magical girl #precure fanseries #precure #pretty cure #pretty cure fanseries #magical girl oc #oc artwork

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months

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Do you have any headcanons or anything of the sort regarding Precipice Moirai/PreMo? I'd like to hear what your thoughts are about them!

I don't think about Premo a ton (for people who are confused, this is Idia's favorite idol group), but here's how I personally picture them:

They're sisters.

They look youngish (or "ageless") but they're actually a bazillion years old. Don't ask them about how old they are or they'll give you that smile that doesn't fully reach their eyes.

Because they're so old, they've seen sooo much and are thus easily bored. They live for listening in on drama and scandals because those can get so absurd it provides some fleeting entertainment to them.

In interviews and talk shows, they drop very archaic, outdated jokes and have refined manners of speaking. It's an odd mix of how your grandma might talk combined with modern anachronisms (slang). It's very "how do you do, fellow kids" energy.

They get along in public, but they constantly bicker and act overly competitive in private (usually over borrowed items).

They came up with a really complicated and dark “anime-esque” backstory for how their group got together. No one knows if the backstory is really true or if it’s something their marketing team came up with as part of their “lore”.

In some interpretations, the Fates are specified as Clotho (who spins the threads of fate with her spindle), Lachesis (who measures the threads of fate using a measuring tape), and Atropos (who cuts the threads of fate using shears). In other interpretations, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos represent past, present, and future respectively.

I think of each girl as being representative of one place in time. For example, the Fate representative of the present may be a carefree party goer who wants to "live in the moment", without thinking much of the consequences (the future) or her previous mistakes (the past).

I see Premo banking on these themes as motifs or image items for the corresponding idol girl (so one represents the past with her spindle, one represents the present with her measuring tape, etc.). I also headcanon that the idols have their own merch and fandom hand signals which make reference to each Fate's respective task. For example, there may be scissors on a Premo T-shirt or a scissor-like hand shape or cutting motion made to signal that you stan "Atropos" of the Fates.

Eyes are a prominent motif and are more universally associated with the group as a whole rather than an individual member. (This is because the Fates were fighting over a single eyeball in Disney's Hercules.)

It’s implied that the girls wear black, but I headcanon that most of their outfits are monochromatic, save for like maybe a few colorful accessories.

It would be cool if they also incorporated elements of Japanese mythology into their group's theme. More specifically, I love the idea of the three girls wearing a red ribbon or some slash of red on their outfits each time they perform. This would be a reference to the "red thread of fate" which permeates many east Asian cultures. It is said that this "thread of fate" connects you to someone you are destined to meet someday, someone who will change your life in some significant way. Typically this means romantically (which would fit in the culture of Japan promoting idols as "pure" and "avaliable" to their fans), but it can also be interpreted platonically. I think this makes a lot of sense given that the Fates are marketed as "three girls bound by Fate".

They blend traditional dance and attire with modern practices. It's very important to them to retain their history and culture, as well as to share it with a new generation so that they are preserved for the future.

They partner up/collaborate with organizations and programs that seek to educate others about history, such as museums and restoration projects. Again, this is because Premo truly cares about preserving history and teaching it to others.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Idia Shroud #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Premo #notes from the writing raven #question #Precipice Moirai #curiouser and curiouser

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javiddenkins · 10 months

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Javid Denkins is not interested in answering questions.

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across from Denkins in a conference room at the AMC Studios offices. Denkins declined to meet anywhere more personal than this beige and glass room, impersonal Muzak buzzing through the speakers, windows overlooking an empty studio lot. There are posters on the wall but none, strangely, for Blow the Man Down, the runaway hit Denkins conceived, writes, and now showruns.

Blow the Man Down, or BTMD as it's frequently referred to by fans and journalists alike, is a workplace comedy set in the Golden Age of Piracy. This unusual premise would be interesting enough even without the top-tier leads brought on by AMC to play opposing pirate captains Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur—Oscar Issac and John Boyega light up the screen and bring surprising comedy chops to the pirate-filled stage they share with such talents as Michelle Yeoh ("Zheng Yi Sao") and Sam Neill ("Captain Benjamin Hornigold").

But beyond that, BTMD seems to be that rare thing in mainstream media: a slow romance between two middle-aged men finding love for the first time. The first—and so far, only—season ends on a cliffhanger, our heroes separated by an ocean but determined to reach one another, and their love story—if it is one—stays unresolved.

Usually an interview like this—between seasons, after renewal and filming but before advertising—would be the perfect opportunity to delve into the mind behind the magic and attempt to tease out hints about what's to come.

But Denkins seems determined to ignore Hollywood's traditional playbook.

Whether this is the standard conference room used for interviewing reluctant showrunners, or if Denkins picked it especially for the purpose, I'll never find out. I've already been waiting half an hour, uncertain if Denkins intends to join me at all. When he does finally arrive, he makes his position clear.

"I'm only doing this because you agreed to my terms," he says.

I'd describe what he looked like, if he had a coffee or a snack or a smoker's twitching nerves, if he sounded tired or amused or angry—but I can't. If you see a description here, it's because Denkins decided, for whatever reason, to approve it. Otherwise, sharing my impression of Denkins is off the table, one of many terms and conditions my editorial team and I had to agree to before Denkins would accept this meeting.

Denkins doesn't want to make my job easy. Photos of him do exist from the few red carpets he's attended; enthusiastic interviews with the cast, writers, and production team of BTMD definitely paint a picture that belies Denkins's apparent efforts to avoid perception. But here and now, in the oppressive air conditioning of the AMC offices, I am contractually obligated to interview a cipher.

If he can be all business, though, then so can I. I hit a button on my phone's recording app, set it down between us, and ask what made him decide to tell the story of an obscure pair of pirates like Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur.

He shrugs. "Why does anyone write anything? This is my job."

It's not the kind of answer I was expecting. Something must show on my face, because he follows with, "That's unsatisfying, isn't it. No definitive answer."

"It's not what I expected," I hedge.

"What did you want to hear?"

I try to gather my thoughts, but I'm definitely stalling, uncertain that this is what Denkins intends. "I did a little research," I say. "Not as much as I imagine you did, but I found some of Bellamy and Levasseur's history together and, later, apart. Bellamy's ship is the only fully authenticated Golden Age shipwreck in the world, so it makes sense that the wrecking of the Whydah is an important turning point in season one. Levasseur, on the other hand, is best known for the mystery of his encoded treasure map, flung into the crowd at his hanging and only ever partially solved, which you seem to have used as a foundation for the coding and decoding motifs throughout. But for a show that seems determined to discuss the consequences of fame and reputation, it's fascinating that you've chosen two men most casual viewers have never heard of."

"Outside the narrative they built for themselves," Denkins corrects. "Is there a question in there?"

I remember again that Denkins isn't here to make this easy for me. "Why not choose one of the more well-known pirates of the era? Henry Morgan, Captain Kidd, and Blackbeard are all arguably more famous both now and when they were alive. What made you choose Bellamy and Levasseur for this story?"

"I think," Denkins says, "I just answered that. There's a difference between how you perceive yourself, and how the world perceives you. Those famous pirates retained their notoriety even after death. Sam and Ollie did have reputations when they were alive, but if people today know them at all, it's typically for reasons completely unrelated to whatever little fame they achieved in life."

"And that fascinates you?"

Denkins looks irritated. "It doesn't matter what fascinates me. That's the story, that's—look, I don't know how to write a puff piece like this," Denkins says. "I don't know if it would really sound like this, if anyone would bother caring enough about what I want to get this far."

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Do you honestly think," Denkins says, "there's a single journalist out there that would actually agree to these interview conditions? This is a fantasy, a what-if, and it still doesn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," says Denkins, "I didn't even give you a name."

And that's true, I realize. I don't have a name.

"Right," says Denkins, as if hearing my thoughts—and I suppose, in a way, he does. "And you don't know how you got here, and you don't know where you'll go after. I made you up. I made all this up."

I look at my recorder, which isn't a recorder. I look at the room, which isn't a room.

"Okay," I say. "So what did you want to happen?"

Denkins taps my phone's screen to stop the recording. Denkins imagines me noticing that he taps the screen, and so this must have meaning. There is no room for junk words and actions in prose, and even less in television. Whatever's on the page has to have meaning, or it's wasted space, wasted time, a moment that could have been useful now gone and never coming back.

Denkins shoves my phone back to the center of the table and says, "I wanted to see if I could just talk about the story without making it about me."

"But you're part of it," I point out. "You have to be. It came from you. It was something you thought was important, and then you put the effort in to create it. The story exists because of you, in relation to you. That's why people, why fans, want to know more about you. They love the story, and you made it, so they want to love you, too."

"I don't like that," says Denkins. "Rephrase it."

"They love the story," I say, parroting back at my creator, "and you made it. They want to know about you so they can know more about what the story means."

Denkins's chair creaks as he pushes it back, puts his head in his hands. I wonder if he's doing that in the real world, too, in the place where he's imagining this interview that will never exist.

(Except I'm not the one wondering. He is. He's wondering what an interviewer would think of him if he allowed himself to show this weakness. Rephrase. Show this ache. Rephrase. Show this.)

"I'm not a story," Denkins says, face still hidden. The Muzak piped into the room seems too loud, too discordant now. Maybe that's what the world sounds like to him. "I'm not imaginary. I'm not a specimen to study under a microscope until every part of me is uncovered and connected one by one to every part of the show." He drags his hands back down and I think I can say that he looks very, very tired.

"Yes, maybe I put some of myself in Blow the Man Down," he continues. "Maybe I did in season two as well. Maybe I put something in The Gang, and maybe I'll put something into whatever else I make for the next fifty years. And what I put there is—will be—has to be—my choice. All things I chose to share. But this?" He waves a hand at the nonexistent conference room, at nonexistent me. "This isn't a choice. It's a demand. I'm being held hostage for answers, as if me keeping my boundaries somehow ruins the show, ruins the story."

"Because you're not a story," I repeat back, watching for confirmation. "Because what you choose to reveal is the only story the audience should need."

"Yes," says Denkins. "That's it."

That's not it, though. I know this, because I'm him, talking to himself. Thinking all this through.

"So you cut yourself off," I say. "No one can know anything about you, because they're already clawing for what you're not willing to share—so how much worse would it get if you gave them a chance to come closer, right?"

"To take, and get it wrong anyway," he says. "Or get it right, but not like it. Not like me. How I'm perceived might change how the story is perceived. And even skipping over the whole art of it all—this is a business. How the story is perceived affects dozens, if not hundreds of people and careers. And all of it can get destroyed in an instant if there's some aspect of me that the audience decides is wrong."

Denkins pushes back from the table, stands up as if to leave. I'm not done yet, though. He's not done yet.

"Sounds lonely," I say.

"Sounds like something a fan would say," he shoots back, and I shrug.

"Blame yourself for thinking it and making me say it, then. It sounds lonely. It is lonely. It's lonely to think there's no way that you could open yourself up, talk about who you are and what your art means to you, without feeling like someone, everyone, will take advantage of that vulnerability."

I pause, and in that pause I find something to latch onto. "You've imagined me," I say. "You've imagined this scenario, where you stay cut off and oblique and hidden." I pick up my phone from where it's placed between us, and I shut it down completely—not because it exists, but because it's a symbol he understands. "What would happen if you imagined being part of the story?" I ask. Rephrase. "What would happen if you imagined being free?"

We look at each other. The tinny music of this artificial space comes to a sudden halt.

Denkins leaves the room.

I am—

Denkins comes back. He sits down. He looks at me.

Time doesn't exist in the beige and glass room. But behind him, now, there is a poster of Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur, a drilled coin on a cord stretched taut between them. And the Muzak hasn't restarted.

Denkins looks different. Or maybe he just feels different. Those things are functionally the same, here.

"You know the old movie trailers?" Denkins starts, not really a question. "The ones that start with 'in a world…'"

I nod.

He smiles a little. "Okay. In a world where Blow the Man Down doesn't exist. Let's say there's something else instead. Let's say it's called Our Flag Means Death. It's a workplace comedy, it's the Golden Age of Piracy, the works. They even manage to kiss in the first season, though the cliffhanger is worse. And in that world, there's a different guy who runs it, a guy named David Jenkins, who seems nicer and more outgoing and shares a lot more of himself than I do. And I think it goes mostly okay for him, except he has to scrub his social media, delete most of his Instagram, and never gets to name his wife anywhere in case a fan might notice and start following her around."

"Sounds grim," I say.

He shrugs. "It's another way of handling it. David, in that world, has made a choice to draw the enemy fire toward himself, instead of hiding away and letting it scatter at random. It seems to work okay for him, and maybe it would for me too, but, you know. Maybe that's a little of myself I gave Ollie. Because I also like the idea of testing something first, all the way to destruction."

A little of myself. This—this is personal information. Something that, in the negotiations that never happened, he said he'd never give me.

My phone, with its blackened screen, is right there. I keep my hands still, folded together, decidedly not reaching for the phone. Denkins watches, sees. His shoulders loosen; neither of us, I think, realized how tense he'd been.

"In that world," he says, "there's a second season coming that no one knows anything about and there's a fandom going feral. Echo chambers that feed off their own theories because there's nothing new to add to the pot. Just like our world, right? In the absence of good data, overwrought ideology works just as well.

"And in the middle of this, to provide a distraction, maybe, or to draw that enemy fire like he so often does, David Jenkins says he'll get a Tumblr—you know, one of those not-really-social-media internet places. And maybe he does. He doesn't tell anyone his username, so it's a mystery whether he really did it or not. But someone opens an account. And someone says they're definitely not David Jenkins."

Javid Denkins is holding a cup of coffee. So am I, now. We take sips, mirrors of each other. The coffee tastes like it has seven sugars in it.

Denkins swirls his cup gently, not looking up at me. "When you're trying to figure out something that's terrifying," he says, slow and careful, "and enraging, and so big and so much that it feels like you'll collapse under the weight of it…sometimes you need to find a way to conceptualize it more abstractly. Make it manageable. Put it in bite-sized chunks.

"So instead of me, dealing with all this fame, and these expectations, and these pulls to turn me from a person into a plot point…maybe there's this other guy. In this other universe, with this other pirate show. Another writer, who says he's definitely not David Jenkins. But—he could be. He could be. And either way, there's enough uncertainty that the fandom can't tell right away."

"Schrödinger's showrunner," I say.

Denkins tips his mug at me. "Yeah, that gets pointed out, too. Because either it's really him and the fandom will eat at him—death by a thousand needy bites of demand, and something that feels like connection but by its nature can't be—or it's not him, just a fan pretending to be him, attention-seeking, scamming, stealing unearned laurels to crown a meaningless triumph: successfully mimicking the concept of David Jenkins."

"Pretty binary."

Denkins shrugs. "You saw the first season. I'm a sucker for duality."

He hums and looks out the conference room's window. The AMC lot is gone. More accurately, it was never there. Outside the window is an ocean. The water is green-screen perfect, and there are two tall-masted ships in the distance: Bellamy's Whydah Gally and Levasseur's La Louise. They float angled toward one another, counterpart to their captains on the poster behind Jenkins, missing only the drilled coin between them.

"Except," says Denkins, slow and musing as he watches the distant ships, "in the vast multiverse of imaginable possible outcomes, it turns out that there is the very slimmest possible chance of a third thing happening."

There is another ship floating now between the Whydah and La Louise. It's freshly painted, poorly rigged, and its figurehead is a unicorn. Instead of one flag, it has half a dozen. And I know, because Denkins knows, that instead of gunpowder in its hold, it carries jars and jars of harmless marmalade.

"So," I say, "David Jenkins—"

"Oh, definitely not David Jenkins," says Javid Denkins, amusement lighting up his face. He keeps his eyes on that third ship.

"So the person who is definitely not David Jenkins," I say. "He comes and starts a social media account. He answers questions."

"Sort of. Nothing specific, really. Just…narrative likelihoods. Enough to dangle hope. But the fandom wants more. There's a Richard Siken line he sees, that if he'd chosen to stay anonymous maybe he could've actually posted: 'but monsters are always hungry, darling.' It's like that. So he backs up a little, and considers how to hold off the inevitable. The season two hints are vague? Make them vaguer. Add some smoke and mirrors to hide how little substance they have. There are only so many general pirate tropes around? Stretch out how long it takes to get the ones he has. Add steps. Add puzzles. Make the fandom work for it, and maybe they won't notice how little there is to find. Give them an interesting enough box to open, and they'll ignore the fact that there isn't an answer on the inside, just another, smaller box." He tilts his head and looks at me. The light outside is now luminous pink and yellow, flashing off the water and highlighting his face like a duotone painting. "Then he…" Denkins sighs. Puts down his mug. "Then I sit back and see what happens. I see if it's as bad as I think it would be if I did it here, in the real world."

"And is it?"

Denkins reaches out with one hand, tugging my phone over to his side of the table. He starts fiddling with the buttons, attention on it instead of me. "To start with? Yes. And no. It didn't matter that the one thing I promised was that I wasn't David Jenkins. They—the fandom—found me anyway. They assumed I was him. And I was right, of course I was right, they asked me questions. Hundreds of them. Like that was the only reason I existed, like I couldn't just be a regular person like the rest of them, just on Tumblr to read about the Carpathia and get taken out by the color of the sky."

"For better or for worse, you're a public person," I say. "They think they know what it means when a public person breaks down the barrier between themselves and the fans. Even well-meaning people make assumptions."

The recorder is no longer a phone and app; it's an old cassette player with thick plastic buttons like I, or more accurately Denkins, had as a child. It matches the ones his elementary school classrooms had, which in turn looked like the device Mr. Spock carried at his hip to record and interpret data from strange new worlds.

Denkins, in the here and now, half-presses the play and record buttons, which would trigger the record function if pushed down completely. He holds back. Riding the edge of commitment. Over and over.

"Yeah," he says. "Yes. That's true. And I could've been completely anonymous if I wanted to be left alone entirely. I suppose I wanted to prove that everything I believe—everything I'm afraid of—is true, and that I'm justified in hiding away, refusing to be 'known' by anyone I haven't specifically agreed to. Hence the thought exercise. And when I was done, and I had my proof," he says, leaving off the recorder buttons to raise a pointed finger at me, "I wouldn't have to see you again either."

We look at each other. "But here you are," I say.

He laughs. It's rusty, but sure. "Here I am," he agrees.

"So what happened?"

"Turns out," he says, "that in that infinite universe of possibilities a writer can dream up, there's a world where, yes, all my worst fears are confirmed…but that's not all that happens."

He stops, and we are both silent for a long, long moment. His fingertips brush over the recorder buttons, repetitive and soothing, like he's calming something feral and unused to human touch.

"Would you believe," he says at last, hushed and small in this glass and beige room floating on a digital sea, "that there is a world where fans—people—don't ask for more than I want to give? Who see the box I'm in, and instead of ripping it open to grasp for whatever good thing they think they can find inside…they give something back.

"I played it all out, you see." He waves his hand over the recorder. Now there are two of them, sitting side by side, each with a row of thick black plastic buttons along the edge: one to play, one to rewind, one to record, and one to pop open its lid so that the cassette can be changed. One of the recorders is a little bigger than the other. "If I can imagine it," he says, "it has to be possible."

He looks at the two recorders; he's quiet now, talking to himself rather than me. I don't think I'm as necessary as I was before. I think maybe this is just him. Just Denkins in this lonely little room. He moves the smaller recorder so that it's lined up with the larger one, like he's lining up Matryoshka dolls as he reveals them.

"It started small," he says. "There were people who saw my puzzles, and made puzzles back for me, just to play along. People who saw my puzzles, and shared what they knew about them, just to help others play too. Small things. Little things. Possible things. I liked it. I didn't expect it. I…wanted to give back, too. Not just in the story, I mean. It was me who wanted it. Wanted to add to a world, to a community, where that sort of giving could happen. So I went further. I didn't just try to hint at common story beats this other show might hit—I started listening, following, asking what would be most welcome, and then gave that instead. And it grew. It grew until it wasn't really just an experiment anymore. It stopped being an adversarial proof. It started being…something else."

Denkins reaches out, and now there are three recorders on the table. The newest one is the smallest. He lines it up with the others.

"I'd already made David Jenkins," he says, "and in turn he'd made his own Javid Denkins. So why not do it again? This other Javid Denkins, this me who's me but not me, goes deeper. He uses the tools at his disposal. Our Flag Means Death has pirates named Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet. OFMD has a fandom like BTMD does, where people write stories about the characters, for themselves and—for others. Fan fiction. A thing that can be a gift, if you want it to be. So I started to write one."

One by one, Denkins hits the 'play' button on each of the recorders. The cassettes whir, a steady background hum. Each starts playing a part of some orchestral piece. Not the individual instruments, but something stranger. It's as if each cassette contains the whole work, but with fragments missing that the others complete. There are still some gaps in the playback.

Denkins waves his hand over the collection again, and a fourth recorder, smallest of all, appears. He presses play on it too, and the music fills in. It's a pretty little melody. Simple, if you know how to hear it.

Denkins hums a little of it before looking up, seeing me again. "That was it, really. That's what finally made all this small enough for me to understand. Made it small enough, far enough away from my actual world that I could finally let myself feel it. In this story that I'm telling, here is Edward Teach." Denkins touches the smallest recorder very, very gently. "Teach lives in a world where he's not the main character; he's just a fan of a gay pirate romcom called Blow the Man Down. He's tired, and he's angry, and he doesn't know how to deal with the world the way it is, with the fandom as he perceives it. He makes a Twitter account, anonymously, to prove that what he fears is real."

Denkins covers the recorder with both hands, only muffling the music a little. "Here's Edward Teach, made up of all my fears and saying them out loud."

He raises his hands, and now there are two little recorders, the same size, both playing the same parts together. He touches the new recorder with his fingertip, as if it's a bubble that could too easily break. "Here's Stede Bonnet," he says, "made up of all my fears coming true. And then having to live through it anyway." He stares down at this new recorder; the same as the Edward Teach one, but evidently special in some way to Denkins. He says, to me, to it, to the room: "It's a hell of a thing, to need to go so far away just to see what you've been carrying on your back the whole time."

After a moment, he looks back up at me. "In my story," he says, "Stede survives the disaster. My disaster. He survives it, because he has Ed—a love interest, yes, but not just that. He's someone he opened up to. And more than that, I saw—because I could imagine it, and so it must be possible, it has to actually be possible—I saw the fandom become…people."

With both hands, Denkins presses a button on each of these two small recorders.

Their lids pop open.

And from the walls, from the ceiling, from the glass windows and the limitless sea, there comes a multiverse of music.

"These people," says Denkins, tilting his head to listen as the swells of unseen instruments add to the gentle overture of his pocket worlds and turn the piece into something greater than the sum of its parts. "They're not some nameless collective made up of their worst impulses. They're just people. People are complicated. You can never know them completely; they can never know you. All you really get is what they—we—choose to do.

"And I saw people try to help Stede. People, strangers, who didn't know who he was, not really. And they felt compassion anyway."

After a long moment, just taking in the music, Denkins sighs and carefully closes the lids on the two small recorders. The singing universe becomes just a recorded orchestral piece once again—though no less beautiful for it. He gently pushes the two recorders together until they're touching, side by side, and covers them with his hand. He says, "Ed got to see this. He got to know that even if his worst fear happens, he'll be okay on the other side of it. And he won't be alone."

He lifts his hand; the two are now one, still playing its little melody.

Denkins picks up this amalgamated recorder and sets it on top of the next largest. He puts his hand over the stack he's just made. "Move it up a level," Denkins says. "David Jenkins, or someone who is definitely not David Jenkins, runs a Tumblr with games and puzzles and digital tools that stretch the boundaries of the narrative. He sees the reactions to his story. Sees fans who know it isn't real, who know that Stede and Ed are characters in a narrative—and nevertheless, these fans, these people, see that these characters are hurting. They try to help. They don't know who's behind the masks labeled 'Stede' and 'Ed,' not really. But they feel compassion anyway."

He lifts his hand. The little recorder atop the larger is gone. The music is different. Not lessened, but changed. It's come closer.

Once more, Denkins moves the smaller combined recorder onto the last one—or, I suppose, the first of all of them. "So move it up one more time," he says. The music isn't audible in the room now; but I hear it anyway. It's in me. Us. The last little notes coming from the final recorders just a reminder of what the world could sound like.

He covers the top recorder with both hands. His touch is aching and very, very soft. "Here's me. Javid Denkins. I don't know if there's a world where I could open myself up and not have everything burn down in flames. I don't know if it could ever be possible for me to leave this room, open my laptop, and start something, somewhere, called 'definitely not Javid Denkins,' and have it be as beautiful and awe-inspiring as it was in my thought experiment.

"But God," he says, "I want it."

He lifts his hands, and all that's left is the final recorder, the one that was my phone to begin with. The music dissipates completely. But the feeling of it remains. Denkins rests his hands on either side of this solitary recorder. He says, "I don't know if all of that—all of them, my fans, my friends, all of what we made together…I don't know if it already exists for me in the real world. Just waiting for me to be brave enough to look. I don't know. But I think I have to believe that it does. That they do. I have to believe that it's possible not just to imagine that kind of grace, but to live it."

Denkins brushes his thumb over the last recorder's play button. "I think that's what it means to be human," he says. "To try anyway. To unlock yourself despite your fears, and find hope there waiting for you."

He closes his eyes. I close my eyes. We take a deep breath together.

We open our eyes.

After a moment, I smile at Denkins, a little crooked. I've got one last question to ask, and it's one he might even answer.

"Who are you, really?" I ask.

It's something we all have to answer about ourselves eventually, and it seems particularly relevant now.

Denkins shrugs, and his smile mirrors mine. "Does it matter?"

"It feels like it does."

"How about this," he says. "Who are you, really?"

And knowing what I know now…if I'm anyone at all, then I suppose I'm Javid Denkins. An aspect. A reflection. A dream.

And so, in these universes he's imagined, is everyone.

"So," Denkins says. "You think I can start over?"

I smile wider. It feels good. "I'd love that."

He pushes the recorder back to me, and in my heart I hear his laughing request for one last rephrase—

Javid Denkins has been waiting for me.

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across the table from a cheerful enigma. Denkins was already in the room when I arrived, a hot coffee by my seat and a box filled with fresh breakfast pastries and marmalade open and ready to be enjoyed. An advertising standup emblazoned with the unreleased (at time of writing) air date for season two of Denkins's Blow the Man Down takes pride of place at the head of the table. Through the windows opposite, bright sunlight bounces off the buzzing AMC studio lot, and I think I hear a certain pirate romcom's theme music playing quietly over the room's speakers.

Denkins grins at me, and it's easy to see why his actors and writers speak so highly of the experience of working with him. Because I can tell already: this is going to be fun.

It starts when he leans forward, eyes bright, and presses the record button on my phone for me.

"Let's play," he says, and—we do.

#definitely not david jenkins #definitely not javid denkins #btmd #ofmd

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tubborucho · 4 months

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Team Goose – Kill them with kindness, but do kill them

This is kinda surface-level and definitely has mostly q!Tubbo vibes, because it’s only been a day with other characters. But I hope it works well enough! The motifs of this one are Kindness and Hope :D

I specifically chose some pictures to have specs of Blue as a nod to Soulfire 💙

Also this post has such a Ship of Theseus thing going on, because I changed like 75% of the original pictures I put there LMAO

taglist: @pastelvangelion @smallz-o @salineroses @dynamicworms @cindersnows @deadfishisyeq @snyland @missstrawberry @frubbotoxicyuri @haloberry @thecardboardbutterfly @avianchorus @qtubbo @an-egghead @codaattheend @mikaikaika @radio-zephyr @routeriver (<- because you asked)

dm me if you want in or out of taglist

credits:

1. N/A

2. https://pin.it/7dTYtQw

3. https://pin.it/1iOw5mG

4. “Triptych for the Heart” Keaton St. James

5. Sleeping At Last – Light

6. https://pin.it/61Wn5KK

7. “Hercules” Euripides

8. https://twitter.com/pitsakat/status/1734759041706906030?s=21&t=BGINjMLHxxS3OZHVGN81Rg

9. https://pin.it/2gxJwoe

10. Quote by Cheryl Strayed

#liss writes posts #liss does web weaving #qpurgatory 2 #team goose #qpurgatory goose #qsmp tubbo #qsmp aimsey #qsmp malena #qsmp cherryrar #qsmp tiba

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xmencovered · 6 months

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Uncanny X-Men Vol 1 268 / Published: July 1990 / Artist: Jim Lee

#jim lee #t100 #captain america #uncanny xmen #wolverine #black widow #homage #team pictures motif #1990s xmen #crossover

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yuurei20 · 1 year

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Toboso Yana on designing Riddle:

"Riddle's personality was originally the opposite of what it finally became. At first he was a character who had been spoiled growing up, disliked studying, was selfish and always broke promises and rules. But because of his strong magic, he could not be denied…"

"In the end, I was not satisfied with my own scenario and rewrote it, resulting in the current Book 1 story. The development team was surprised to see the 180-degree difference between the setting we had already submitted and Riddle's new personality.

But they accepted it and even said it was an improvement, and the character became what he is today. The fact that he has styled his own uniform for a cuter look is a remnant of how he was in the early stages of the project.

Also, Deuce had long hair, Cater was a beastman, there was a character based on a white rabbit motif, and so on…the Heartslabyul dorm experienced many twists and turns in terms of both design and content."

"One of the earlier designs of Heartslabyul's five students. Drawn on November 29th, 2017, it portrays Riddle with his original, backwards personality and a long-haired Deuce. By this point I had almost decided on the final design for the dorm uniforms.” (upper left)

(The picture above is a screenshot from a video released on the official Disney Games YouTube Channel where Crewel and Jade's VAs introduce the Twst Exhibition, it is not a secret photo from the "no photography" section taken illicitly by a visitor :> )

youtube

#twstguide2020 #twst translations #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #Toboso Yana #Youtube

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skitskatdacat63 · 5 months

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Vettonso x Similar Helmets

SV Germany 2012 x FA Monaco 2013: Gold & Dark Red

I think a lot about Vettonso and their mutual relationship witn gold. They're both golden boys, they're both seen lit gold by the sunshine on many podiums throughout the years, both have worn golden boots, and as you can see here: both have worn golden helmets. The parallels in these particular helmets makes me feel insane. Both are: gold with dark red accents, both have their birthplace's coat of arms(Bergstraße and Asturias), both have team animal motifs, and both have symbols to represent their two championships(You by now know the signifigance of the ones on Fernando's helmet, but I think the ones on Seb's are actually a callback to his Formula BMW days when he used to put the smiley stickers on his car for every win.)

And did you know both of these helmets were designed by the same helmet design company? Yep, both of these are JMD helmets. I know JMD helmets are/were pretty popular, but still, there's something to me about Fernando commissioning the same designer that Seb has been using since he was a literal child. Parallels, am I right?

SV Japan 2010 x FA Japan 2023: White with Black & Red

Haha I remember @protocolseben and I discussing this a bit back in September when Fernando's helmet dropped. I honestly think Seb is such an innovator and trailblazer in terms of helmet design, and you can see his influence in helmet design as recently as this past season. I'm not sure if he was the first ever driver to don a matte white helmet with red accents as a representation of the Japanese flag, but it certainly envoked him in my mind when I saw Fernando's!!

I think Fernando's is pretty similar to all of Seb's 2010-2012 Japan helmets but I like this one the most so! I think if Seb wasn't restrained by the Red Bull logo, he def wouldv'e put the red circle where Nando put his so I think Fernando did a really good job, even if unintentionally, at emulating Seb's sense of design.

SV Singapore 2012 x FA Singapore 2012: Sparkly!

Like I said in the one above, it's crazy how much Seb influenced helmet design. He was pretty much the pioneer of sparkly helmets for Singapore, right? It drives me absolutely insane that there's actually pictures of them together in such similar designed helmets. It's kinda funny actually that even though they're pretty deep in the championship fight at this point, and Seb just got one up on Fernando; Fernando is wearing a helmet that is a direct influence from Seb!!! Is that not insane???

Also, Fernando trying to be camp with trying the now in vogue sparkly Singapore helmet, and Seb accidentally completely blew him out of the water with his outrageous light up LED constellation helmet. But god yeah....to have pics of them in matching helmets from this era particuarly makes me emotional ;;;

SV Hungary 2021 x FA 2022: Pink with Dark Blue

I really could've picked any of Seb's 2021 helmets, but I thought this one matched the best with Fernando's main 2021 helmet(with the color pallet.) Also one thing, it's crazy how much control BWT has as a sponsor, I don't think I've ever seen another sponsor go so hard at having a chokehold on individuality. I like that we got pink liveries and pink helmets, but I don't think they should have that much control.

I'm almost kinda sad there wasn't any Miami GP in 2021, because I think that was the only unique helmet Fernando had in 2022. But these match pretty well! Pretty in pink!! It's crazy that their parallels in the 2020s are ongoing even before Fernando actually takes over Seb's seat. Thanks BWT I guess?

SV Abu Dhabi 2022 x FA Abu Dhabi 2022: Fernando's Seb Tribute Helmet

AND HERE WE HAVE THE PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE!!! The ultimate conclusion, it literally couldn't get better than this!! This is still unbelievable, like how is this an actual thing that happened!? Fernando intentionally branding his helmet, the only symbol of individuality in F1, with his rival's flag colors, HIS FLAG!!!!! Not to mention the literal "Vettono Best Moments" collage he posted alongside it....and the hand-holding....and everything that happened with them at Abu Dhabi 2022....

But god, after years of incidentally making parallel helmet designs, Fernando decided to officially tie the knot of the red string of fate, and make a helmet directly referencing Seb's. I think it's funny because as I said with two of the previously mentioned ones, those Fernando designs are pretty much inspired by Seb's, and here he is openly making one directly inspired by Seb. I don't really have words for how this actually makes me feel because it's just. Yeah. The most open and clear declaration of love and respect and admiration one could ever make. TO ME.

#all of my posts subheading should be: 'its probably not that deep BUT-'#i can't believe ive made two deeply researched and beloved posts in a row one day after the other #posts sponsored by: 12 am red bull consumption. my all-consuming devotion and love for vettonso. and my unwillingness to do schoolwork #i mean i felt a lot of emotions and had fun making it but like. hey. could you put this effort into school?#anyways feeling deeply emotionally affected about helmets and their symbolism #i think in the entirety of f1 seb and fernando are two of the most dedicated and passionate about helmet designs and symbolism?#so this post is very special to me :] helmet fuckers unite <3 #again: they say they aren't friends and don't share any hobbies and im just staring at them like YOU IDIOTS!!!#its just that spongebob meme of him pointing out the trashcans. like guys. be fr rn. you totally share hobbies #both like helmet design. paddel and pingpong. sustainability. cars. racing. european football. THE LIST GOES ON AND ON #well im glad they swapped helmets at some point(i think nando gave seb two pretty old ones as well. now thats dedication!)#if they werent cowards i bet they couldve also had a 5+ hour long discussion about helmet design ;;;;;;#thinking also about how fernando has one of seb's in his museum >:) but if only it were one of the ones on this list. sigh.#normal posts that catie normally makes in a normal fashion #well lmk if theres any other vettonso helmets you think are similar!!! im pretty blind to seb helmets that arent rbr era tbh #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #f1 #formula 1 #vettonso #we do a little bit of f1

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aislingyngaio-games · 2 months

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Junon and Nibelheim Tifa symbolism through Rebirth lore

This tumblr post is actually further expansion from this twitter thread I made on the relationship between Tifa and Junon that I've noticed. Now that Rebirth is out.... hoo boy idk if I'm overthinking this or if the devs are just this big-brained. Spoiler alert for Rebirth, OBVIOUSLY. You have been warned.

Part 1: Phoenix, Deity of Junon Region

So to begin with, I'd like to draw your attention to what actually first attracted my attention to the possibly deliberate symbolism of Junon: the combination of the regional deity (Phoenix) and the regional chocobo (Belle the mountain chocobo).

As is obvious to any Final Fantasy fan by now, Phoenix is the summon of fire and life/rebirth, two themes important to Cloud and Tifa, both of whose childhoods "died" in the Nibelheim fire and massacre five years ago and yet "reborn", or rather survived, from the ashes of their fallen hometown because of their promise and bond with each other. They are each other's proofs they are who they are: Cloud and Tifa from Nibelheim. As a sea-facing town with an underwater reactor (even Under Junon is named "Sea Dragon Square"), wouldn't it have been more thematically appropriate to have Junon worship either the Leviathan (admittedly Leviathan is the guardian deity of Wutai in FF7 lore, but Wutai was pushed to pt3, and it didn't stop Leviathan from being a Chadley-earned summon in Remake either) or Shiva deities (which is the summon you get in OG Junon from Priscilla) instead of Phoenix, unless the switch was a deliberate narrative choice? After all, as I've posted in my original Twitter thread, Junon is the first place Real Cloud truly tries hard to "awaken" SOLDIER Cloud into speaking with Tifa. This is translated in Rebirth into Cloud and Tifa's reconciliation after their falling out at Kalm, and Tifa's relationship wheel being the non-optional, story-mandated dialogue choice in this chapter. The Rebirth-themed summon in the Rebirth-named game being set in the Junon region over all other regions? HMMMMMMMM. (And nobody better forget that Mr Dolphin <-> Tifa's limit break Dolphin Blow parallel either ;) )

Also, OG callback: Phoenix summon was actually obtained from Fort Condor in OG, and guess what huge ass creature immediately appeared the moment the party exited the Junon-side entrance of Mythril Mines? Aye, the Giant Condor. The protorelic sidequest in Junon is also linked to the Fort Condor minigame (a variation of the boardgame from FF7 Remake Intermission) that specifically chose to magick both Cloud and Tifa (as well as Barret) in to do battle. And of course, the "Dreaming of Blue Skies" Tifa-related sidequest in Junon region involves baiting the Giant Condor with bovine meat to take a picture of (and while waiting, they sky-gazed together at the clouds).

(Side Crisis Core tangent: Phoenix's materia is obtained from - guess where - NIBELHEIM WATER TOWER, as the first part of the Seven Wonders of Nibelheim sidequest)

(Side simulation tangent: The Phoenix simulation Chadley makes for the Rebirth team to fight can summon Bombs, which is one of the two bracelet charms Tifa is prominently featured with in the Retrilogy, the other being Chocobo, which usually symbolizes Cloud)

(Side LOVELESS tangent: The summon that Rosa calls to defeat Varvados looks amazingly like the Phoenix summon, and the resultant ending motif - the fiery destruction of Guardia, the mutual protection of Alphreid and Rosa, and the unpromised promise of fidelity and reunion - most resembles the destruction of Nibelheim, the mutual protection between Cloud and Tifa - Cloud as Tifa's physical protector & Tifa [being Cloud's motivation] as Cloud's emotional protector, and the fulfilled yet voluntarily continual fulfillment of the promise at the water tower between them)

Part 2: Odin, Deity of Nibel Region

Now what of the actual place of Cloud and Tifa's births? Well the regional deity is, appropriately, Odin, Norse god of death, while the regional chocobo is Selena Shirena (in JP romaji), the blue ocean chocobo.

Odin in OG is also obtained from Nibelheim (specifically Shinra Mansion), and interestingly, when linked with "Added Effect" materia on an armour piece, can provide immunity to instant death on the wearer, while if the same pair of linked materia is equipped on a weapon, it can cause instant death. This is a most curious and most pertinent symbolism for the birthplace of not only the only two people in the FF7 party to have ever tasted Masamune blade first and survived (rip to the other Nibel villagers though) but also, thematically tragically, the birthplace of Sephiroth, whose destructive powers with said blade are legendary. Not forgetting of course, that central in the stories of Nibelheim is "the other side of the mountain" being a local reference to the mythical/thematic land of the dead (remember which two characters are pictured on the Mt Nibel side of the two Rebirth Nibelheim keyarts?).

Part 3: Junon/Nibel Connection via Regional Chocobo Abilities

From Junon region, we have Belle the grey mountain chocobo (which btw, is a requirement to reach the Phoenix summon crystals that will both weaken the simulation fight and strengthen the summon materia), and a clearer parallel cannot help being drawn to Cloud and Tifa hailing from the village of Nibelheim located at the base of MOUNT NIBEL, where both share memories being on that mountain (once when Tifa was 8 and Cloud 9, and again when Tifa was 15 and Cloud 16 - SEVEN years apart). Similarly, the Nibel region chocobo - required to access the Odin summon crystal - is Shirena the blue ocean chocobo, making both Junon and Nibel chocobo abilities the diametrically opposite elements of their region's most significant landscape/towns - Junon the ocean-facing city with the mountain chocobo, and Nibelheim the mountain-shadowed village with the ocean chocobo.

(Side Costa del Sol tangent: Cloud's blue shirt swimsuit is named "Ocean Chocobo" which makes for it being the Nibel region Chocobo ability seems accidentally on purpose appropriate, as well as being the more "real Cloud" of the two swimsuit options for him imo, while the Wild Surf option seems too... Zack minus the sunflower, so basically the SOLDIER Cloud option)

So, let's now look at the symbolism of Junon and Nibelheim together, as both mirrors and opposites, as parts of a whole.

Junon and Nibelheim

Phoenix and Odin

Life and death

Mountain and ocean

East continent and west continent

Taken together, the bond between Junon and Nibelheim almost looks like the endless cycle of death and life/rebirth, which is very symbolic of how the Lifestream works (those who are born from the Lifestream return to the Lifestream). Just as Phoenix is both life and destruction, just as Odin can be both death and protection, it is the complementary, symbiotic love of Cloud and Tifa, at once opposites yet similar, at once separate but a team, both strong yet each having their own weaknesses that the other balances, that ultimately is most emblematic of the lifecycle of the planet.

It is no wonder then, that Tifa is the one chosen by the planet and the WEAPONs, both in OG when Sapphire Weapon caused the distraction that allowed her to both embody yet subvert her role as the Andromeda of Greek legend by enabling her to save herself from her execution at Junon with the help of friends, and in Rebirth when the Gongaga WEAPON choose to show her the true struggle of the planet that she might reach Final Heaven, and be the heroine who will save and stay by the hero's side till the end.

#ff7 rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #junon #nibelheim #cloti #tifa lockhart #cloud strife

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