#and how you form a deep bond with that audience while also having to be okay with it evolving at any moment

[thebramblewood]

I think one of the hardest things as a writer posting a story serially is accepting that readers come and go naturally over time (if you're lucky enough to have readers in the first place, which is its own uphill battle) and that it's not necessarily a reflection on yourself as a creator. People have lives, and a years-long story is a massive commitment. They might stop reading for any number of totally valid reasons! But it's always a bit bittersweet to see people fade along the way. I still think often about how certain readers might react to certain developments, even if they haven't commented in months. I just hope they know how much I appreciated the time they did spend with it, and I hope they're doing well wherever they are. 💕

[midnight-mourning]

On Your Cue, Starlight

Ever the perfect performer, he'll wait for you~ (probably)

*please click for better quality tumblr nerfed this entire post >_<*

Hi @kibbits!! I was your secret santa this year, made you a lil something with your BAL fella! saw you ALSO enjoy the nutcracker and jumped on making something related to that hehe

I imagined this at a point where they're starting to test the boys out with actual shows, and a form of the nutcracker ballet would be perfect for it! Y/N (slightly nervously) takes the role of a clara-eqsue character, with Sun being the Nutcracker and Moon of course playing the mouse king which leads to, interesting, battle scenes haha,

had a lot of fun sketching ideas for this and making it overall, tried to incorporate a few little things from Sun's coat bc it's SUCH a fun design like asdkfhs (didn't know sun in a big coat was everything i needed in life but APPARENTLY, i was wrong)

also, wrote a brief little synopsis/drabble below to provide a little context ^-^

i hope you enjoy!! merry christmas & happy holidays!!!

(drabble & process pics below the cut)

The lights are bright, and even from here you can feel their warmth. Usually it would be more of a comfort to you, but at this moment it feels almost too much. The music plays from the speakers, having been given a recent touch up after months of begging for improved equipment. There's little chatter from the audience, they're far too invested in the performance, which again would be a great thing if your nerves weren't on fire. 

Your eyes flick back to the animatronic in front of you, not moving even a centimeter out of place, waiting for your cue. Though really, it's the shift in the song, you almost think that regardless of whether you were ready or not he would pull you into the spotlight to complete the scene.

He knows his role, ever the perfect performer, as he was made to be. The role of the Nutcracker is fitting, in a way, for him. While obviously not a prince cursed to take on the role of toy solider, you imagine being locked away in a closet for several years provides a similar experience. 

You take a deep breath, you've been preparing weeks for this. Months really, when you consider how long it's taken to get to this point, to an actual show. You can't let them down, can't let yourself down. All the hard work, the re-imagining, the late nights spent debating, sewing, painting, chatting, maybe even bonding—all of it leads to this. It's amazing how a few seconds can last for hours.

The song lifts, you take his hand. 

And so it begins.

hehehe, anywho, process and such is here for those who care to see it :D

close up & sun only version

lineart & flats

rendering pt 1

background & lineless lol

bonus: version with less hand cropped bc it turned out so beautiful~

[chickentendrsanfries]

Misia and Pampinea's relationship is so toxic but I think it's actually the best portrayal of a trauma bond I've ever seen portrayed in media (and I am referring to the actual definition of trauma bond, meaning "a bond formed between an abuser and their victim", not the common usage meaning "people who bond by experiencing the same traumatic event together")

Like you see Misia's love for Pampinea, and worse, you see why she loves Pampinea. Pampinea uses a very common but very underrepresented form of emotional manipulation to make herself look needy, pathetic, and dependent upon Misia's help. The audience genuinely believes the few moments when Pampinea acts loving and kind towards Misia, and I think sometimes Pampinea actually intends to be genuine, but using Misia is so second-nature at this point that she's, either consciously or subconsciously, always doing it.

Pampinea fluctuates constantly between being Misia's loving friend, holding her, stroking her hair, and then being distant and cruel to her, always with a soft, pitying voice and a smile, to punish and manipulate her into doing whatever Pampinea wants. She makes Misia genuinely believe she (Pampinea) needs, loves, and would be lost without Misia, that for Misia to exit this relationship would kill Pampinea, a person Misia loves. Nobody can take care of Pampinea like Misia can, least of all Pampinea herself. You can really see how emotionally dependant Misia is on Pampinea, especially after her girlfriend dies in the first episode. This story takes place during the fucking P L A G U E. Everyone is losing everyone they love constantly, and for a while Pampinea is all Misia has, to throw her love and energy into. You can see that her forming a relationship with Filomena is the first step to breaking free from this emotional dependence, but even that on it's own isn't enough.

I mean for fuck's sake, Pampinea offers Misia to mourn her dead girlfriend together, she does a whole little funeral with her and offers her support, friendship, and comfort as a noble to Misia, a lowly handmaiden, and you almost think "wow, maybe on some level she really does care about Misia" only to realize she only did it to coerce Misia into murdering someone, an act which traumatizes and wreaks psychological havoc on her already fragile mental state.

It's a portrayal of a kind of abuse that isn't often shown in media, which tends to lean towards the angle of "look at this stupid pathetic sad sack, their (always romantic, usually heterosexual) partner beats them up but they still think they love them because they're so manipulated into thinking they're worthless on their own, and I, the narrative, despite portraying this as a bad thing, am also unintentionally corroborating that by giving them no characterization beyond "Battered Victim in need of rescuing by Other (usually male romantic interest) Protagonist."" Misia has a character outside of her relationship to Pampinea, and more importantly you see why she loves her and why she stays. It's like she says, "Love isn't just one dimension. Love has long claws." Her love has ensnared her in Pampinea's grasp.

When I first watched it, I thought Misia murdering Pampinea was overkill and I was shocked and felt it out of character for her to have done that (especially considering how she did it, fucking WOOF) but upon reconsideration, it's a perfect culmination of everything we've seen of their relationship. Pampinea, for years, convinced Misia that she needed her, that she would die without her. So, when Misia finally decides to sever that relationship, it makes sense that she thinks Pampinea couldn't live without her, so she might as well kill her. Additionally, I think there's an implication that Misia would always be tethered to Pampinea if she were alive, that those claws were sunk so deep she could never guarantee her own emotional safety if Pampinea was around. Further, Pampinea at this point tried to make Misia burn an innocent woman to death in order to kidnap her child and lay claim to her estate, so for Misia to burn her to death instead is poetic in a way, a fitting end. And lastly, Pampinea used Misia's trust and love her whole life, and in her last action, Misia flips the script and uses Pampinea's love and trust to end her life.

"What would I ever do without you?"

"We'll never know, viscontessa."

[highrhulain85]

How Long Has It Been ... 4 Million Years

Words: 3018

Rating: General Audiences

Optimus Prime/Elita One, Chromia/Ironhide

My tribute to the Transformers 40th Anniversary and inspired by the amazing works of Jorge Rivera-Herrans Musical EPIC.

 To "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" of the Ithaca Saga of EPIC: the Musical.

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE MENTIONED SONG, CHARACTERS AND FRANCHISES AND PLEASE, PLEASE LISTEN AND/OR WATCH EPIC: the Musical IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET! ITS AMAZING. The scene written has no set Transformers Fandom, just my own version.

The great war is over and Optimus Prime and many Autobots return to Cybertron with all they had promised. Many welcomed them home with joy, however some have not. Yet, this was not Optimus' concern, he can deal with the negativity from multiple bots, however only one bot's opinion matters to him above all.

After 4 million years Optimus and Elita One would reunite, yet would all that time away have faded their bond and would Elita accept who Optimus had become?

I made a few tweaks in the lyrics to make it more accurate to the characters.

Once you see this "#", you can start playing the song, "Would you Fall in Love with Me Again." Make sure you read the full story first to get an idea of how each scene plays out in the song.

All rejoiced that the war was finally over. All factions could return home to Cybertron, the world they had to abandon. Relations were reforging in many forms, some bad, most are good, and a few are much better. They had praised the Autobots and their Prime for their victory and welcomed them home with gratitude and glory.

Yet, a tension still creeped in the celebrations with the victorious bots.

Cybertron 20XX, Iacon (Currently under restoration.)

The group of returning Autobots drove through the wrecked terrain of their former home world. With Optimus in the lead, his vanguard and staff behind him, and their human companions, Spike and Carly Witwicky, in between them while riding within Bumblebee. They followed the blue warrior and vanguard of the Cybertronian Resistance, Chromia. Each of the Autobots had feelings of longing, regret, fear, and resignation of the chaos that lay before and beyond their sights. Most knew the restoration, since Earth’s discovery of an energon deposit on one of Saturn's moons, had relieved tension of starvation to their planet. However, the scars of war ran deep for both warring factions and would take a very long time to heal. 

A taste of resentment hung in the air despite welcoming celebrations, when the Ark finally returned to Cybertron with the needed energon and reinforcements. This resentment was not just at former Decepticons, Autobots, and Neutrals to each other, but also at the returning Prime who made a promise of said return. Which he did keep, but they felt he had come so late and few felt that he and the promised relief was not needed. A campaign was held by one small group for the Autobots to leave Cybertron and be accountable for the war at the spaceport. One former noble mech tried to take a shot at the visiting humans for being disgusting Organics that took Cybertron’s needed resources from them. It had been broadcasted how humanity was integral to their home world’s revitalization, but many weren’t fully accommodating to it. Only Prime’s orders, and all the strongest bots, had to restrain Bumblebee, Arcee, Hound, and even Prowl from doing anything rash to retaliate.

If Optimus was offended or remorseful at all the negative feedback at him, he didn’t show it. He knew he would face this to some extent when the war was over, the matrix of leadership kept his processor running without the burden of self-doubt and professionalism in his role. Part of the perks of having an ancient artifact filtering emotions and grants wisdom.

He gave a heartfelt speech to the hostile crowd and was able to deescalate the situation from boiling over when Chromia arrived. Seeing the vanguard of the resistance, the protester crowd dispersed not wanting to anger who they considered a “true hero”; Optimus stopped an outraged Hot Rod at that. After getting a debrief of events and planning from Chromia she informed them that Elita One was waiting to speak to Optimus. She stated that it was about how to proceed forward with restorations and try to reestablish relations with all Cybertronians and colonies. Whatever opinions Chromia had of her own about the Autobots and Prime, she kept to herself, especially when Ironhide tried to talk to her. She wasn’t being coarse with him, just setting where their priorities should lie, but she did tell Ironhide she’ll talk to him when appropriate.

Now, the group of returned Autobots followed Chromia down the broken paths of Iacon to an area that Optimus knew very well, the old apartments of the docks. In the short distance, the restored Iacon Archives, where he as Orion would go on his day off and read despite his class level back then. Past memories were quickly repressed by the matrix when the group came to an old ruined single floored building. The luster of its chrome finish lost with time, with walls that had crumbled into rubble, and the entrance door missing one side, but to Optimus, he was finally home. Chromia stopped in front of them and announced they had arrived at their destination and all of them transformed into bot mode, with Bumblebee letting his friends out beforehand.

Optimus wasn’t surprised Elita was here of all places, but the meaning as to why she was didn’t escape his mind. He had kept his promise, but was it worth it for her? Ordering his men to wait outside with the humans, Optimus tentatively approached the door.

“Understand this, Optimus Prime,” said Chromia with no emotion in her voice. Optimus stopped to look at her. “It may have been a few years for you, but it was millennia upon millennia for us.” 

She tightened her grasp on the spear she carried, still looking blankly back at the path they traversed. Of a still ruined city she had witnessed fall, had fought in, and was now seeing real progress of returning life.

“We know that you tried and moved as quickly as possible to return our hope. But it was a long, long, and grueling time for us. For her. Some feelings.” She looked to Ironhide, who had a resigned look on his face. “Can fade with time.” She looked away from her Conjunx Endura back to her Prime with a sad smile. “Yet, despite all we faced she still let out hope of your return. Please, don’t squander it.”

From there, she headed toward the group and stood in front of Ironhide, who gave her the same sad smile back at her. After a few soft words, they walked off together to have their own private talk. The group remained back as their Prime walked forward to the building and opened the only door left wide open. 

This was supposed to be a private meeting, a long awaited reunion, but all those involved wanted everything to be said in the open and out to all present.

When they first arrived Bumblebee gave the humans a short summary of what was going to happen. The Witwicky couple felt unsure they should stay but a kind word from Prowl and Ratchet let them know that they were just as welcomed for this. Feeling awkwardly honored, Carly stood with Spike, holding his hand nervously, as they watched the Prime stop at the door to the building, with an equally nervous looking Bumblebee. They stayed silent as to not add to the tension, yet…

“I keep forgetting,” Spike quietly mentioned. Carly looked at him, his face had a look of sadness and understanding. “They've lived much longer than us. Our perception of time is so different from theirs. Four million years, a long time to us, longer than our species' existence, but how was it for those here on Cybertron? Constantly fighting, forging, and preserving their culture? They've all waited so long for Prime and the others to return home and most of that time Prime was offline after their crash and defending Earth.” Spike lowered his head, his voice trembled slightly. “But for the Bots here, for Elita One, she kept waiting for Prime. How could they–”

“Hey,” Carly interrupted. Her husband looked back at her, and she smiled slightly at him. “Let's just watch and see what happens for right now, because this is something they have to settle themselves. Everything else can come later.” Carly leaned into him, both of them giving each other a one-sided hug. They watched as Prime slowly moved forward.

Before entering, Optimus looked upon his reflection in the tarnished chrome mirror of the door. To him, there was no regal Prime returning home with honor and glory looking back. He saw all the dirt, the grime, the scratched paint, and the scarred metal of his body. He looked into his optics, though they are not like human eyes, he could see the tiredness, the past sorrows, the distress and regrets. More prominently, he saw the age in them. He was not coming in at his best, yet despite his current sorry state, Elita One fought for the home he left behind for far longer. He had no right to compare himself to her. He forced the Matrix of Leadership to release their filter on his inner spark, he will not let repression and old wisdom deny him emotional release. The Prime didn’t know what would be discussed, but he was ready for every harsh full criticism of his choices and mistakes. He will face his comeuppance at the one who fully deserved setting it to him. 

He took one last inhale, and let it go with the name he had thought he would never say with such a hopeful tone again. #

“Elita…” 

The room of his former life, while ruined, still held most of the furniture he had precious memories of. The war had destroyed most of the walls, only a few were still standing while everything else had toppled and left the building fully open to the scenery of all Iacon city levels and the horizon of their home world. The sun of their solar system was already rising.

There she stood, a statue of a fury rose color that contrasts the rising dawn over the far horizon, her back to him. At the moment he said her name, she turned to him with the same tired yet hopeful eyes looking back. At the mech of scuffed red and blue, who she hadn’t seen for 4 million years.

“Is it you?” Elita asks with folded arms across her front, looking at him with judging eyes. 

“Have my prayers been answered? 

Is it really you standing there, 

or am I dreaming once more?”

She looked at the mech, at all his scars and wear. 

“You look different, your optics look tired

Your frame is lighter, your mask torn. 

Is it really you, my love?”

After a moment, Optimus looked down to his hands, at the hands that may have saved many, yet also took away many.

“I am not the mech you fell in love with,

I am not the mech you once adored.”

He looked back up at her with defeat in his voice. 

“I am not your kind and gentle Endura,

And I am not the love you knew before.”

Optimus took a tentative step towards the Conjunx he left behind placing his worn hands upon his frame where his spark lay.

“Would you fall in love with me again,

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change,

Would you love me all the same?

I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love.”

Elita looked at Optimus with an uncertain look and turned away from him, her profile silhouetted by the rising sun. “What kinds of things did you do?”

Optimus knew what words to say and said them without hesitation, letting each sentence form the memory it depicted.

“Left a trail of red on every planet.”

The memories appear of Cybertronians displaying a Decepticon or Autobot sigil littering many battlegrounds as Optimus fought Megatron. Cutting down the tyrant's followers with his energy axe.

“As I traded friends like soldiers I could use.”

Times in before and during the war, Optimus formed great friendships and careful recruiting to the ranks. Sadly, many had faced their death in battle under his orders or from blind loyalty. He never should have involved them, he always mourned.

“Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands.” 

Battles on Earth showed the Prime the true extent of their growing war. Visons of city or rural battles, where Humans tried to run, hide, or even fight against the Decepticons alongside the Autobots when they got caught in the crossfire. Sometimes he dreams of the screams of those he couldn’t save as debris fell.

“But all of that was to bring me back to you.”

He raises his helm to look back at her with surprising strength and voices his longing. He held a hand out to her to take.

“So, tell me.

Would you fall in love with me again,

If you knew all I've done?

The things I can't undo.”

Optimus seemed to wilt with regret.

“I am not the mech you knew,

I know that you've been waiting, waiting.”

Elita’s voice interrupted him as she looked to contemplate his words.

“If that's true, could you do me a favor?” She looked at him with a calm stern look. 

“Just a moment of labor,” she then pointed to her right. “That would bring me some peace.”

Optimus followed the direction, blinking at the sight of a bed made from a Founding Crystal Tree, a special type of living crystal that only grew and formed from right where it was planted. The very one where they had first met long before the war, long before Megatron, when they were only just Ariel and Orion.

“See that bonding bed? Could you carry it over?

Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here.”

Elita threw her hand out toward the exit dismissively.

Optimus looked back at her, shocked at her challenge.

“How could you say this?

I had built that bonding bed with my fuel and mesh.

Carved it into the crystal tree where we first met,

A symbol of our love everlasting.”

His anger started to rise, gesturing at her then to the bed with an angry pointing digit. 

“Do you realize what you have asked me?

The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots.”

Outraged, Optimus turned and started to walk away, refusing the request, knowing by doing so would end with his broken spark.

“Only my Conjunx knew that!”

He froze at her affirming tone.

“So, I guess that makes him you!”

Optimus slowly looked back at Elita, who now stood straight and confident in her claim. He turned shocked at her, his earlier anger gone, and hope filled his unfiltered spark.

“Elita…”

Elita One, leader of the Cybertron resistance, slayer of spark eaters, last beacon of hope on Cybertron, and Conjunx Endura to Optimus Prime looked at him with fierce blue twin pools. She began a slow walk toward him, each step she took added to the affirmation in her reply.

“I will fall in love with you over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when.”

As she got closer, she gestured at him with a stern digit.

“No matter how long it's been, you're mine.

Don't tell me you're not the same person!” 

Elita swept her arm out, throwing his earlier said claim aside. 

The passion in her voice seemed to resonate with their world, their universe, and all other universes in existence, as if to challenge all of them that their love still exists.

“You're always my Conjunx and I've been, 

Waiting…” 

In a universe of origin, a different Optimus and Elita are reaffirming their affection and purpose to each other outside a large dome structure of their home world.

“Waiting…”

In another, two Autonomous Robotic Organisms are fighting their own battles, one decapitating his traitorous mentor, while the other tries to find her purpose.

Optimus' voice joined with hers to slowly match her passion and walked to meet her.

“Elita…”

“Waiting…”

A different Earth with a city called Detroit, a Prime regrettably fights against his former friend, who attacks him with long legs and poisoned fangs. 

“Waiting…” 

A planet of cold victory, a broken Optimus says goodbye to a glowing ethereal ghost of Elita who reassures her love to him.

“Elita…”

“Waiting…”

A different Cybertron, Elita tries to stop Optimus from destroying Earth’s Energon that she tried to steal. Desperately holding his gun as it shakes with his sorrowful choice.

“Waiting…”

A dying Elita comforts a distraught Optimus as he aims a glowing blaster at his former gladiator friend, who laughs mockingly while saying it’s the Prime’s own failure.

“Waiting…Oh!”

On the surface of a Cybertron, Elita One encourages Orion Pax to rescue their people from a false Prime. 

Optimus stood still as Elita stood directly in front of him. She raised her hand to his face as he retracted his mask to show her his scared face and tired loving optics. 

“For…” 

He leaned into her warm hand, as she looked back at him lovingly.

“...you.”

Optimus broke into tears and embraced her, and Elita did the same with equal ferocity. Both wept and tugged at each other letting so many millennia of separation melt with each second.

All that time, all their companions had approached the building entrance and watched their reunion with sad but happy tears. Ratchet, Blur, Arcee, and even Hot Rod, let their tears flow softly. Jazz and Bulkhead wept loudly as the normally stoic Prowl comforted them by patting them on their helms while secretly fighting his own tears. Spike gave Carly her own handkerchief as they both tried to dry their crying tears while they both embraced each other warmly. Simultaneously, Spike patted reassuringly on a bawling Bumblebee’s leg. Ironhide, after having come back from his own conversation with Chromia, was wiping his whole arm across his optics as he wept, complaining how they were all acting like sparklings. Chromia gave him a small teasing bump on his shoulder as she tearfully smiled, relieved of her friend’s happiness.

No one said a word as their two leaders continued their reunion, at one point Optimus lifted Elita up in their hug and twirled her around, her laughing at the absurdity of the action. After a moment, he set her back down and they finally separated just enough to look deeply at each other. 

With all the dirt and grime of years of separation and war, tired, but no longer burdened with a love no longer buried.

Elita looked back at him with a soft smile.

“How long has it been?”

Optimus smiled back.

“4 million years…”

They both settled in their embrace.

“I…I… love...” 

Their helms reached to nuzzle each other, their optics closing.

“You.”

To just enjoy the moment of togetherness at last, not as leaders, not as Optimus Prime and Elita One, or as Orion and Ariel, but two lost sparks finally together as one.

--

'Hands over a tissue box': Need a tissue? Because I needed 60 while listening to the song every time I write, rewrite, edit and re-edit, and review and re-reviewed this story. Primas!

Hope you enjoyed it, and if anyone can recommend an artist or if yourself wants to draw this story as a comic or animatic please leave info in the comments and we could work something out. Thank you. Happy New Year!

Added notes A) Having a filter from the Matrix of Leadership was inspired from another story on Ao3, "Not a Prime Situation" by CarlottaPrime. You should also read it as well, real hard look at what Prime would be like without the Matrix of Leadership.

B) if you want to know the order of scenes-based media in the "waiting part", also it's not in chronological order, its: 1. G1,

2. Bayverse Movies,

3. Animated,

4. War for Cybertron Trilogy,

5. Skybound,

6. TF:Prime (My own Implied Head-canon),

7. Transformers One

[highslover]

Maeve’s storyline but right!

I have always though the Maeve plot line didn’t made sense and recently I read a fic (spencer reid x reader) where reader was a serial killer of serial rword and I thought how much better that could’ve been.

Maeve’s plot line was weak in many ways. My biggest pet peeve is that it was that aggressive from the start and Spencer did nothing, which I don’t find in character. That meaning her stalker (Diane).

Let’s assume his first consult with Maeve was pretty normal, how could he imagine she had a stalker? But in order to keep talking to her they went through using letters first. And maybe Spencer thought it was romantic and interesting, but pseudonyms? That’s a bit much.

Spencer knew all along about her stalker, he tells Hotch that much after she goes missing. So you are telling me Spencer found out this girl he likes isn’t leaving her house, she is not using her phone and is using letters to communicate with pseudonyms to protect herself and didn’t do something? I agree he might’ve been respecting her wishes, but by this time Spencer has been working with the FBI 9 years, he is not naive as he was, he is a social protector, it just doesn’t makes sense he let it go that far.

Again, from the beginning is crucial here because I don’t think he would’ve let it slide just like that. If it had grown progressively while they were together, yes maybe their attachment would’ve clouded his reasoning, but by the time they started talking Diane had made Maeve quit her job and broke up with her fiancé so??? It just doesn’t make sense for HIS character. I believe that at leasttt he would’ve investigated by himself.

But non of that happened so the plot just doesn’t cut it. Instead, if it would’ve been a serial killer? That’s interesting.

Point 1. A serial killer who kills men that are serial rapist is in many ways human. It’s imposible to not like as audience. And Spencer is often the one who empathizes with the criminals (lol beautiful baby 🥺).

Point 2. Her story could’ve been a great episode, we could’ve seen how smart she was (something from Meave’s character) but at the same time how traumatized she was, her story, how evil are the men she kills. She could’ve been the same age as Spence, he could’ve done the interview, connect, blah, blah, blah.

Point 3. I think they could’ve find a way were they didn’t have anything to really hold the case, victims (of the men) not pressing charges and friends who offer alibis for her. So she makes a deal with Spencer because she is also tired and she knows she cannot stop. A letter once a month because she likes his big brain.

Point 4. She is arrested but gets her letter and Spencer gets his, where she is smart and interesting and whatever. Out of nowhere they are writing themselves not just once a month. And they talk every sunday. (Again part of Maeve storyline, everything was there!!!!) (Also I think she could’ve been an assistant for a geneticist and help him with his migraines)

Point 5. And everything is good and they form a bond but Spencer would never admit he likes her and maybe even feels something more, because he is a good guy. But in this time he starts to read every philosopher that has written about good and bad (also talk it with Blake!! best part of the Maeve plot).

Point 6. After this we are only missing her dying and I wish I remember the name of the fic but something similar could happen. In the fic she scapes prison with help and goes to find Spencer because she knows of a human trafficking organization and she wants to liberate them, so she kinda kidnaps Spencer and they go there. Because she wanted to do it, deep down Spencer knows this a suicidal mission for her.

Point 7. They get there, she gets kill by local police but she saves women and children and got to spend her last day or two with Spencer, the only person that made her wished everything she did never happened and maybe she could’ve have a great life.

And ta-da! we traumatized Spencer with an interesting plot that makes sense (at least for me). And far more complex I think, something that maybe even MGG would’ve like. But who knows, is this against copaganda???

[nokillbananashelter]

There is so much implied narrative in breath of the wild that adds richness to what is shown and what isnt.

Like let’s focus on link and his experiences for a second. This link is the most equipped link has ever been. He has the full support of hundreds of people who are teaching and training him prior to the calamity. No link has been raised into being prepared for the journey ahead quite like this one. Link is an impossible flip wizard capable of reflecting lasers as a child. He is a superhero. He can slow down time, either through magic or his own honed perceptions. He has the master sword basically handed to him. He had a family and a community from the jump and is inherently driven to want to protect the Zelda. They have the equivalent of 4 other links who are not only bonded through destiny, but through friendship, and on top of this, it’s clear that no matter how you view their relationship, Link and Zelda have a connection that is cosmically desirous of each others company. On top of this, its somewhat implied that this zelda was BORN into having the triforce. This link was privileged as fuck.

The whole point to all of that is not just to highlight your ability to beat Ganon from the jump if you know how to tap your inner resources, but to absolutely highlight the horrendous power of calamity ganon and how deep the failure goes when link is taken down.

It is catastrophic and absolute. No ganon has been shown to crush link, zelda or hyrule like that. Ever. Like. Calamity is quite literally a force of nature. They gave us on screen proof that link is not always safe or guaranteed to win. That is meteorically unprecedented for a Zelda game sans gameover screens. Majoras mask is the closest we’ve come to this elsewhere. And this failure is directly correlated to the desire to prevent failure by coddling zelda and link and by extension the player.

From there, you spend the entire game dealing with the sense of loss, a melancholy over a dead civilization that is haunted by ghosts, touched with sweetness and fragility. You need to grapple with nature and resolve unfinished business on your own terms and time in order to beat an enemy that is effectively a form of nature.

Just like zelda, This link was too domesticated. He needed time to experience joy and nature and fun and AGENCY. The memories and journal entries speak to links stoicism, while the gameplay highlights what a goofy lil guy he is naturally. This link is supposed to be distracted with whimsy and childlike wonder. This link is supposed to play golf with Gorons. The shieldsurfing for fun is character development for link. He is supposed to connect to the land and love it and see it with gentle eyes and a sense of tenderness. This link needed in time to connect to roots, quite literally. His survival and connection to the wild is the secret sauce other links had that he didn’t. He is supposed to come to his destiny on his own terms- which is also a gift he is given that other links often do not have!

The player learning about nature is parallel to links own learning about nature. Your gameplay is links story to becoming a more complete person on your own terms. That fucking rules and the fact that it doesn’t outright tell you that shows they respect the audience’s intelligence.

And the secrets to beating Ganon don’t lie within temples and dungeons or people telling you what to do. There is no dungeon items in this world- calamity ganon destroyed them. You can search high and low for the old world, and all you’ll find is bones and unanswerable questions. You are supposed to feel sad and horrified when you come upon ruins. You are supposed to feel like something is missing. Link shares your sadness and your disappointment when they do not aid in his journey. There is something about exploring in this world that keeps reminding you that Ganon took so much away from the world, and it’s not right! You find motivation to beat the man every time you stumble upon something empty that used to be full. That realization is only more powerful if you have experienced other Zelda games- which this game is in constant conversation about. This ganon has robbed you of a traditional zelda experience. You need to beat him another way.

But the answer you’re supposed to come to is that you’ve had the power within you all along. The shrines in both botw and totk teach link how to use what he already has. The mechanics link possesses are already there, you just need to experience and discover it.

This ganon took everything but the leaves in the wind and the snow on the mountains. And those are the things this link needed most to tap into his inner resources. He didn’t need someone holding his hand and giving him things. He needed to explore and experience and learn from his own mistakes and find something unkillable & courageous from within.

And the more you/link look at the ruins, the more you realize that there’s a lot of things that have been happening for eons and eons and eons, and the calamity is not the first cataclysm. This is a war that has been waged for time immemorial. The more you stare at the landscapes, the more you realize the sands of time will strip all institutions away, but nature endures. And its worth protecting and still needs someone to fight for it because despite it’s endurance, its not invincible. It needs to be tended to and respected. There is a sense of loving caring sweetness within that lesson of nature’s fragility we don’t often see directly with link. And wrapped up in the middle of that is a lil pissman who wants to ruin everything even worse than that. It makes you want to save the world for nature sake.

And I do think there is something to be said about the fact that a lot of people don’t even ever fight Ganon in their save files. It’s not necessary to get the experience the game wants to give you. You can beat ganon whenever you want to, if you put your mind to it, if youre ready for it, if you even want to at all. It’s not necessary to get the lesson that this game is trying to show you. The choice is yours. The agency is yours. The moment that you feel prepared and wanting to stop him is entirely up to your own inner drive and that catharsis is there for you whenever/ifever you want to experience it. You beat ganon on your own terms.

If you don’t think that that is disgustingly beautiful, deeply tender, and poetically charged, i don’t know what is. And though getting the memories expands on this, the environmental storytelling in this game is strong enough that you can tell that this world was destroyed without a single cut scene. The music describes the emotions it wants you to feel as you pass through this landscape. The broken melodies highlight the fragments and essences that remain despite the damage done. Every lesson you learn as a player is a lesson this link is owning and waking up to as well. The memories do not tell you that. The gameplay does. Every time your eyes rest as you gaze upon the gorgeous vistas is shared with this link.

There are so many wordless things that speak volumes in this game.

[pixiemage]

Do You Believe In Magic?

[Part of the Magebound Universe]

23,458 words Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek Additional Tags: Past Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott Major | Smajor1995, Mage AU, Witch and Familiar AU, Witch TangoTek, Familiar Jimmy Solidarity, Canary Jimmy | Solidarity, Blaze Hybrid TangoTek (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Injury, First Meetings, Soulmates, Witch/Familiar Bonds, Magebonds, Baby Ravagers :3, Hermitshipping Big Bang 2023

[A/N: Hey all! This has been in the works for quite a while by now. For anyone who read the mini Ethubs fic I posted most recently, this story takes place in the same universe (though later in the timeline). I've been itching to share the Ranchers' origin story with you for ages!

Much love to the HSBB server for their inspiration and friendship and support, and even MORE love to the handful of spectacular artists who created artwork for this story! Links to their creations can be found here, as well as in the endnotes.]

@fantasykiri5 [Trapped] [Jimmy] [Tango] @joifee [Feathers] @aviomons [Magic] @setacin [Campire]

{This work can also be found on Archive Of Our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The late afternoon sun filtered down through the trees, the ever-shifting leaves and branches high overhead casting scattered, evolving shadows across the forest floor below. Every so often a stray sunbeam would cross Jimmy’s face…but for how deep in the forest he was, it didn’t happen often. Below the canopy the forest was cool, what little heat from the day that still lingered in the shadows already beginning to lessen with each minute that ticked by.

Jimmy was grateful for the shade, and the breeze, and the barely-there smell of petrichor that still hung around from the rain that had come through earlier that afternoon. It left his walk in the woods with a peaceful sort of feeling hanging over it. He was beginning to think he might have picked the perfect day to attune with his avian side. It had been a while since he’d had the chance, really…not that it was entirely his fault.

(He couldn’t help but think his own actions took more than a little of the blame.)

Jimmy let out a breath, hiking his satchel higher onto his shoulder and doing his best to focus on where he was going.

The Southlands Coven had been a nice escape, after everything. It had been a chaotic whirlwind of magical malpractice and experimentation, a place to just let loose and not worry too much about where he had been before. It helped him to forget about Sc– his former bond, and about whatever he had left behind at that cottage. The Southlanders helped him remember himself, and forget himself, and remember to have fun again.

Not - not that he hadn’t had fun with - with him, and them, but there had been a tension Jimmy hadn’t been willing to endure, and a past that wasn’t his own that needed facing. Jimmy was helping no one by sticking around.

Jimmy’s jaw tensed and he huffed out a breath, pushing the thought aside. He was meant to be focussing on nature, on the natural magic in the earth, and on his familiar form. He was meant to be finding the right place to attune, like Grian and Martyn had both suggested. Not…not agonizing over broken magebonds. It was in the past.

In truth, Jimmy conceded as he clambered over a massive protruding root, he had been with the Southlanders for over a year by the time they disbanded, but even then it wasn’t that long of a span of time in the grand scheme of things. The lingering ache of a severed bond had only fully faded around the seven-month mark, so perhaps he could be forgiven for still missing the feeling of someone else’s magic humming alongside his own.

Sc– his magic had been smooth and graceful and almost cool to the touch, often carefully controlled in a way that Jimmy’s almost never was. Jimmy’s magic was an energetic thing, always moving and buzzing and sparkling at him for attention at the slightest thing. He’d had to reign it in more times than he cared to count, so finding a witch like - like him, a witch who maintained such careful discipline over the way his own magic behaved and who naturally extended that control down the bond to include Jimmy as well? It was - well, it was something. It was stifling, but comforting all the same. It was nice to not feel so scattered all the time…but it wasn’t quite freeing enough for someone like Jimmy whose familiar form was a bird.

Perhaps that was why Jimmy had known from the start that their magic wasn’t meant to be bound forever, and he would have known even without the contract for a temporary bond that he had signed when he’d been hired. The relationship they’d forged in the time they’d been bound, though? Now that was something Jimmy had hoped would last a little longer. But once Jimmy had helped him with his task, once his former magebound was back from wherever she’d been lost to, and his focus shifted to helping to nurse his true familiar back to health - well.

It became all too awkward for Jimmy to hang around when his priorities were no longer on romantic relationships.

And Jimmy understood, he did. He understood the importance of magebonds as well as anyone. He wasn’t surprised that he immediately prioritized her when she needed him most, and he wasn’t surprised that he, Jimmy, got forgotten in the process. Perhaps worse still, it didn’t seem to surprise him when Jimmy said he’d be leaving.

Perhaps it was only ever meant to be short and sweet. Perhaps one day he’d be able to remember it fondly. But at the moment, he just wanted to forget.

Jimmy paused in a small clearing, closing his eyes and using his magic to reach out with delicate tendrils, sensing the natural magic of the forest and trying to follow where it wanted to lead him. He was close. He was very, very close. He took careful steps with his eyes closed, the damp spring grass shushing softly against his shoes. A little…a little left…ah.

A warm vibration of pure, gentle energy danced at his peripherals, making his magic buzz, making his core resonate with a low, silent tune. Slowly, he let his satchel drop to the grass, and he sank down beside it. He pulled off his shoes and shrugged off his overshirt, leaving them piled on his bag and leaving him unencumbered. He listened and he felt and he breathed.

A full familiar transformation was meant to feel as natural as breathing. Once you managed it the first time it was meant to become second nature, as easy to repeat as your own name.

Lately, for Jimmy, that hadn’t been the case. He could summon up a handful of reasons why if asked. There was one he blamed more than the others. But no matter the reason behind it, it was because of this disconnect from his avian side that Grian had all but demanded for Jimmy to take the time to find a peaceful connection point and attune.

He had been absolutely appalled that Jimmy hadn’t attempted to do so sooner, and Martyn had been equally irate about it. So…off Jimmy went.

That had been a week ago.

Now, Jimmy took a slow breath and let his magic sink. He let it melt out of his core and to the very tips of his fingers, to the ends of his hair…let it sit just below the skin. He let it fill him completely, let it greet the natural magic in the air around him, and he let his avian side come to life bit by tiny bit. Tiny golden down feathers prickled at his hairline and down his neck, scattered across his cheeks, soft patterns racing down his spine. A few fanned out around his ears and he listened, the quiet breeze and distant chirping and nearby rustling of crickets and critters meeting him more clearly than before. He rolled his shoulders and bone and muscle shifted seamlessly, painlessly, beneath his shirt, the fabric seemingly unbothered as massive sunglow-dusted wings appeared at his back. He shook them out with the smallest of grimaces, momentarily distracted by some dust and misplaced feathers that were making him itch.

He’d have to have a preening session once this was over.

For now, though, Jimmy just focussed as best he could on the balance between his avian and human halves, letting them merge together to as perfect a point of equilibrium as he could manage. For a few long, quiet minutes, Jimmy just let everything hover at that balance. He let himself exist in silence as both for as long as he was patient enough to endure, and as long as the forest was willing to indulge him. This part was easier. Jimmy wasn’t the best at sitting still or meditating, never had been, but the weight of wings at his back and the tickle of down against his skin was a familiar comfort that felt more natural than his fully human form ever had. It was easy to melt into, like pouring just the right amount of water into a glass. It was a perfect fit.

Time seemed to still, to warp, seconds and minutes ticking by as the mix of magics whispered at the edge of Jimmy’s awareness, as he slowly focussed inward toward the point where his avian side resided.

…it was taking it a step further that was giving Jimmy trouble, was the thing.

He took a slow breath, letting his wings go lax and drape out across the grass behind him. His magic was still swirling just below the surface and he reached for it, drew upon it, let it soak into his skin and settle in his bones.

There was a pull, normally, when Jimmy wanted to shift fully. There was a tug in his gut and a sudden, small inward force and a feeling almost like a startled inward breath - and then he was suddenly a fraction of his size. Normally. Normally, it happened in an instant, so simple to grasp and even easier to maintain.

Right now, Jimmy was having trouble getting to that point. He could feel that tugging sensation lingering just out of reach, a tension just below his ribs, a surge of energy balancing on a precipice and barely threatening to tumble over the edge. He was close, closer to that tipping point than he’d been in over a year. And yet–

An itch cropped up at the base of his right wing, something between his feathers irritating him, making him grimace. He rolled his shoulders, trying to dissipate it without digging through the down to find what was bothering him. It didn’t do much.

Jimmy sighed and scrunched up his nose in discomfort. Yeah, he was definitely preening later, probably before bed if he had the energy. He couldn’t fathom how his wings had become so unkempt. So…neglected.

…no, that was a lie. He knew. He knew full well that he had become lax in taking care of himself after he had left the cottage. He knew that Grian and Martyn - even Impulse and Mumbo - had needed to remind him to eat sometimes during the first few weeks with them, and even after that–

No. No, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. He was meant to be focusing on…on…

…crap.

The swirling haze of flowing magic had begun dissipating drastically once Jimmy’s thoughts had strayed, and at this point he knew it would be exhausting to return to the level of concentration he was at before. With a heavy sigh, Jimmy let his eyes flutter open and he flopped backward against the grass. He ground the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough for stars to pop up in the darkness behind his eyelids and he huffed in mild annoyance.

He’d always struggled with meditation, and any magical practices that required it. His mind was just too…busy, too distractible, and something always inevitably drew his attention away from what he was meant to be focussing on. At least in this instance his distraction was well-warranted. Unpreened and itchy wings were a nightmare and impossible to ignore no matter how well-trained one’s patience was.

Maybe he ought to try again tomorrow once he’d dealt with whatever grit was causing him so much irritation.

It wouldn’t be too hard for Jimmy to find the clearing again. Even if he hadn’t had a fairly good sense of direction thanks to his avian nature, the lingering residual tendrils of magical energy his attunement had left behind were recognizable. It was his magic, after all. He’d know it anywhere. The forest would lead him here again.

The sun was beginning to dip low behind the treeline now, casting an orange tinge across the sky, and when Jimmy sat up to grab for his satchel he could see the way the shadows had already begun to stretch under the canopy of the trees. The glimmer of magic still fading from his skin illuminated the nearby grass, a low but noticeable light that further cemented the fact that it was getting late.

It wasn’t as if Jimmy had anywhere to be, but any forest this dense could become a danger when one was alone in the middle of the night, magical abilities or not. He cast a stray glance around as he shoved his feet back into his sneakers. He hadn’t exactly expected to see anyone, so finding his surroundings quiet and empty wasn’t much of a surprise…but something about it left him feeling wary. The few stray downy feathers at the nape of his neck tickled from a passing breeze, making him shiver, and a quiet anxiety began to pool in his gut.

Maybe he ought to fly back to the inn. He should have enough time to walk back from here - the nearby town wasn’t too far away, and he would probably arrive just before nightfall if he left immediately - but he wasn’t sure he felt as confident in that method of travel now as he had been when he’d left the inn that morning. Jimmy finished tugging on his overshirt - letting his wings phase through with practiced ease - and stood slowly, his satchel strap clutched tightly in one hand.

…yeah. Yeah, maybe he’d fly, just in case.

He tossed the bag’s strap across his body, rolling his shoulders and flexing his wings. He shook them out once, twice, still irked by the itchiness beneath his feathers…but he’d just have to deal with it later. His paranoia was increasing with every second, and he’d rather get out of here before–

Jimmy turned to prepare for a takeoff and went stiff as a statue, coming face to horrifying face with a massive beast. It was staring at him from across the clearing, its beady eyes fixed on him with an intelligent sort of focus that made Jimmy’s skin crawl. The creature was a giant, hulking thing, reminding him of a rather hairy bull but with a wider snout and a stockier build. It was a dark, brownish-gray and a pair of ivory-colored horns curved out from its skull…and those things looked like a quick way to a very painful death. It took Jimmy an embarrassingly long time to remember what it was called - a ravager - and an even longer time to remember that he needed to breathe. He swallowed thickly and took a slow, shaking, measured breath. Right. Right, okay. Right. He took a slow step backward, then another. The ravager was tracking his every move, audible snorting huffs leaving it as it stared him down.

Jimmy could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, could hear the ravager’s breath, could hear his own shaking attempts at regulating his breathing. The eerie silence from before suddenly made much more sense now. If a beast of this size was in the vicinity, why would any creature be making noise that would draw its attention?

It still hadn’t moved yet, Jimmy noticed. He had been creeping ever closer to the trees behind him in an attempt to escape its piercing stare, and all the while it hadn’t moved. Jimmy wanted to count it as a blessing, a small bout of luck that he wasn’t about to take for granted. Maybe if he was quiet enough, maybe if he moved slowly enough, maybe if he just stayed calm, then the ravager would have no reason to run him down. So he stayed steady and he kept his wings pulled close and his breath carefully schooled.

…and then he tripped.

Jimmy went down in a whirlwind of feathers and limbs with a loud yelp and a chirp and an oof…and apparently, it was the sign the ravager had been waiting for, because within moments of him hitting the grass, it tossed its head and stomped at the ground and let out a deep, bellowing roar.

Jimmy scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, darting off between the trees and shoving off of trunks as he dodged them. He could feel the ravager’s footfalls pounding against the earth behind him, sending vibrations through the forest floor. All the while he let his eyes dart skyward as often as he dared, trying to spot a breach in the canopy where he might be able to take to the sky. For not the first time, he was cursing his inability to perform a full shift to his avian form. If he wasn’t such an incapable mage he could have gotten high above the trees before the beast behind him even reached him - if he was quick enough. But even then, he supposed his bag would have posed a problem anyway, because he wouldn’t dare to leave behind the books and potions and crystals that he had packed into his satchel for the trip.

And besides, even if he managed to use a spell to put his bag out of harm’s way, that “if” would have been enough to keep him grounded regardless of his ability to shift forms. If he was fast enough. If he had time to transform and get out of the way before the ravager trampled him into the ground.

If he could have shifted fully in the first place.

Jimmy gritted his teeth. Arguing over what-if’s in his head was a moot point when he wasn’t even capable of the most important part of the equation. He’d just have to find an opening and fly as he was when he had the chance.

Branches whipped past, some catching on his clothes, some leaving scratches against his skin, skirted shrubs and thorny flowers lashing at his ankles and a few vines threatening to trip him up.

Vines.

On an inspired whim and with a prayer to the heavens, Jimmy skirted a tree and slammed his palm against its trunk, focussing on his fading connection to the forest to fuel his spell. As his fingers separated from the bark a flurry of vines sprang forth, curling up from the ground around the roots of the tree and tangling through the undergrowth. He didn’t look back to see if it had helped, but he did hear the ravager let out a growling cry of some kind, and the thundering at his back faded with each new stride he took.

Jimmy’s eyes darted to the sky again, searching for an opening, any opening. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon–

When it seemed as though the monster behind him really had been lost in the foliage, Jimmy let himself slow. He cast a furtive glance behind him before collapsing sideways against the trunk of a massive gnarled oak. His chest heaved and he gulped down precious, precious oxygen, his lungs aching and his limbs threatening to give out. At his back, he let his wings hang limp to brush against the forest floor…but thank goodness running didn’t tend to wear them out too quickly, or he might not have felt up to flying home after the harrowing chase he’d just barely managed to escape from.

“Oh gosh…” Jimmy choked out, his legs shaking. He dragged both hands back through his now-sweaty hair and let out a distressed trill, a chirp catching in his throat as he slid down the trunk to sit on a massive twisted root protruding from the soil. His fingers tangled tightly in the blond strands. “Ohhh my gosh…oh my gods…”

A ravager. A ravager. What was a ravager even doing in this forest? Jimmy might not be quite as much of an expert on magical beasts as Impulse was, but he was fairly certain they were more likely to appear in colder climates. They were built for the snow. The forest Jimmy had chosen for his attunement was rarely even chilly this time of year, let alone prone to snow or ice. Where in the world had–

A low rumbling growl and a sudden thundering sound broke through Jimmy’s mind a little too late, and by the time his head was snapping up - by the time he was scrambling to his feet - the ravager he thought he’d managed to evade was already upon him. It rammed him backward, thoroughly winding him, pinning him to the massive trunk of the gnarled oak he’d been using as a resting place, its head bowed to be on his level and its horns caging him in on either side. The sound of shattering glass rent the air, the distinct sound of one of the potion bottles in his satchel breaking. Jimmy didn’t even have words anymore, the panicked sounds leaving him reduced to twittering avian screeches and wheezing, shrill, desperate chirps. He shoved at the beast’s snout frantically, feebly, trying and failing to push it away. Its huffed, snarling breath was hot and overwhelming. It made it harder to breathe, harder than it already was with the way he was being crushed against the tree trunk and the way he was panicking too much to catch his breath.

The ravager was relentless too, because though its horns against the tree kept it at just enough of a distance to leave Jimmy some minute level of safety, it refused to let that keep it from its prey. (Because Jimmy was prey right now, wasn’t he? He certainly felt like it.) It jerked its head sharply, carving into the bark, closing that gap bit by bit with each jolting movement.

A spell, a spell - he couldn’t think of a spell. Jimmy’s thoughts were whirling desperately, but nothing was sticking, nothing - nothing he could–

“G-Glacius!” he stammered, choking out the first thing that came to mind, and he shivered as a swath of freezing blue ice magic was dispelled from his fingertips. But it wasn’t strong. It was a wisp of a thing, magic that didn’t come naturally to Jimmy. It did very little to dissuade the ravager. The creature did flinch back though, for a moment, and for a fraction of a fraction of a second Jimmy was tempted to make a break for it. There was a gap to his left, a possible escape - but was there even time?

Before he had a chance to decide, the ravager had let out a furious roar and charged forward again, and Jimmy flinched, and his wings jerked, and–

Jimmy let out a shrill, pained avian screech when one of the beast’s horns slammed against his left wing and pinned it to the tree, something snapping and an unbearable pain blinding him. He keened and his wing jerked frantically where it was trapped, the sharp, hot agony that radiated from the injury making the world spin on its axis. Shit. Shit. Fu–

A sharp whistle pierced the air, though Jimmy wasn’t quite aware enough to even bother trying to figure out where it had come from. It repeated, a warbling lilt to it this time, and - much to Jimmy’s utter disbelief - the ravager actually retreated. It stomped backward, still huffing and rearing its head occasionally, but it gave Jimmy just enough space to slump against the tree. He gulped down desperate breaths, his chest heaving, and a moment later his legs - shaking and exhausted - gave out below him. He crumpled, one hand scrabbling at the bark behind him for support. The wing that the ravager had injured absolutely screamed as it shifted to the ground and Jimmy let out a sharp, choked chirp, wheezing twitters coinciding with each breath he took.

Gods that hurt. It was - it felt - he curled in on himself, his uninjured wing coming up to shield him from the world, the rest of him too fuzzy to focus on much else besides the pain to his left and the slowly growing awareness of a voice somewhere to his right.

“...whoa, whoa - hey there, big guy. C’mon - gahk! NO! No, hold. Hold it, skippy. Stay still…that’s it–” There was a shifting of soft material and the jingle of metal, maybe keys or chains. A soft snort arose from the ravager, one that made Jimmy flinch. “–easy. Easy. Just…wait…a second - hah!” Another jingle, then the voice let out a victorious laugh. “HAH! Gotcha! Now - ngh - now c’mere, get away from that thing…”

More chinking - definitely chains - then a disgruntled huff from the ravager, some grumbling from the voice. The heavy footfalls of the beast retreated from where Jimmy was still hiding away in the safety of his feathers and he shivered. He clutched at the strap of the bag still slung across his chest, his focus honing in on the nearby sounds, not quite ready to look at his ruined wing. There was the drag of metal on wood, more chinking and jingling, then the voice he’d been hearing sighed.

“What’d you catch now?” he muttered, his much more human-sounding footsteps a balm on Jimmy’s nerves. “What poor critter am I gonna have to patch up, huh? …geez, it’s a big fella this time…”

The voice had come close, so close, and Jimmy flinched back when he felt a gloved hand brush at his feathers.

“Shhh, sorry,” the stranger murmured quietly. “Sorry bud. I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay? I just wanna help…”

It was at this point that Jimmy slowly lowered his wing, peering out over shivering golden feathers to try and get a look at whoever had saved him. The guy was a bit shorter than Jimmy, or at least he seemed to be at this angle, with a little less height and a bit more bulk to him than what Jimmy had. His skin was lightly tanned and his black leather hide gloves and vest and boots made Jimmy think he must spend a lot of time outdoors. The man was also clearly inhuman - even without his pointed ears or the sight of his tuft-ended tail, his red irises and sclera would have been more than enough proof of that. There was a glowing tinge to his blond hair as well that seemed to illuminate the air around him with a low, subtle, warm incandescence, the dim light of the setting sun making it more noticeable than it would have been in broad daylight.

He also looked slightly stunned, his eyes widening as Jimmy appeared from behind his wing and a gobsmacked expression overtaking his face.

“Wha- oh! Hi! Wow, okay, human. Ish. Human-ish. A person. You’re a person. Yup. Uh–” His eyes darted over Jimmy’s form, what little of it was visible at the moment, and he cleared his throat. “How - How badly did he hurt you?”

Jimmy grimaced at the question. He tried, briefly, to ease himself into a more upright position to check the damage, but with how harshly it sent a shock of sharp pain through his left wing and his chest, it was an attempt that only ended with the air being punched from his lungs and him collapsing roughly against the tree trunk again. He let out an avian hiss and a shrill chirp and a whimpered curse, and the stranger jolted forward to grab his shoulders and help hold him steady against the tree.

“Whoa, whoa!” the guy said quickly, anxiously. “Let’s - how about we put a pin in the standing-up action for a hot second. Okay? Just - crap. Uh–”

Jimmy eased his eyes open again - when had he closed them? - to squint, wincing, at the face hovering above his. There was a worried crease in the man’s brow and a twitch in one of his pointed ears, and every so often small licking flames came to life in his hair or around the tiny ember-colored sticks hovering around his head that Jimmy somehow hadn’t noticed before now.

He felt like there was a word for those, wasn’t there? A name he couldn’t quite remember right now…

“...are you with me, man?” the guy was prompting him now, worry coming to life in his expression. “What’s your name?”

Jimmy took a slow breath to ensure his chest would be willing to cooperate before attempting to answer.

“Jimmy,” he said finally, the word coming out a bit unsteadily. “Name’s Jimmy.”

The guy’s worried frown curled into a half-smile.

“Well hey there Jimmy,” he murmured. “I’m Tango. D’you know where you are?”

Jimmy managed a jerky sort of nod and he clutched at the bag strap across his chest with the hand that wasn’t digging fingers into the soil and moss beneath him.

“F…Forest–” He sucked in a sharp breath when the slightest of movements made some part of his injured wing shift, jostling something that obviously didn’t want to be jostled. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Con - ngh - Concordia Forest.”

“Good. Good.” Tango nodded. “Great. Uh–” He squeezed Jimmy’s shoulders slightly, and an inhuman warmth sank through Jimmy’s shirt layers to the skin below. It was a balm, a comfort, a small spot of cozy stability that helped him settle some of the tension in his aching shoulders. He let out a soft breath and did his best to stay still, like Tango had suggested.

“How badly did the big guy hurt you?” Tango asked again, and Jimmy grimaced.

“I…think my wing might be broken?” he offered weakly, sheepishly, and Tango’s expression took on a guilt-ridden unease, his pointed ears pinning back against his head and the glowing sticks around his head dimming.

“Crap. Crap, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - that’s my fault, it really is. Man, if I’d just–”

“What?” Jimmy blinked up at him, confused. “How’s that your fault? You saved me, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Tango drawled with a wince, “but I also - like–” His tail lashed at the air behind him and he jerked his head back over his shoulder. “That’s my ravager.”

What.

Jimmy gaped at him, waiting for Tango to grin and say he was joking…but the man remained as serious as before.

“You - why?” he said, perplexed. “Why do you have a ravager? Why would you want a ravager?”

Tango shrugged lopsidedly.

“I handle magical creatures and monsters for a living,” he said. “Ravagers - I mean they aren’t that bad–”

“Not that bad,” Jimmy repeated weakly. He let out a whimpering laugh and let his head thunk back against the tree. “It slammed me against a tree, but ravagers are not that bad.”

“Well, yeah. It’s just about learning how to communicate. They can be super cuddly once you know how to handle ‘em–”

“Cuddly, he says–”

“They can be!” Tango insisted. “They’re like - ya know - big dumb cows who don’t know their own strength!”

Jimmy let out a birdlike twitter of protest.

“Well your big dumb cow just broke my wing!”

Tango flinched, going immediately silent and remorseful, his ears pinning back again and his tail going still behind him. His shoulders hunched up to his ears and his eyes drifted over to the feathered limb that wasn’t quite sitting at the right angle.

“...he did,” he agreed softly. “You’re right.” Tango eyed Jimmy’s broken wing for a moment or two longer before speaking again. “I’ve uh - I’ve never worked with bird hybrids before, but I’ve helped magical creatures with feathers ‘n’ wings. I bet I could whip up a good old-fashioned splint for you for now, if you want?”

Jimmy blinked at him. Ah…so he thought Jimmy was just a hybrid. In truth, in his current form, that was close to true. The wings, the feathered features, the avian calls. Except for his current lack of talons, he supposed he could pass for an ordinary avian to someone who didn’t know many avian hybrids themselves.

Seeing as he couldn’t exactly shift again until his wing was healed, he was as good as a hybrid for the time being for as long as it took for his injuries to mend.

“A splint might not be necessary,” he murmured thoughtfully. The hand still clutching at his bag’s strap slipped down the leather, groping at the satchel that was lumped on the ground next to him. “I brought some potions, just in case I–” His hand met wet fabric and Jimmy’s heart sank. The bottle. The glass he’d heard shatter in the midst of the ravager’s attack. The potion bottle.

He scrambled to open his pack, flipping back the flap and digging past the surface items until he found - ah. Glass. Broken glass, more than he’d anticipated, the pieces chinking against each other as Jimmy shifted the bag. It hadn’t been just one bottle that had been broken in the fight, but multiple, all but one not managing to survive the encounter. And the one that did survive - well. Unless Tango turned out to be a not-so-friendly stranger, fire resistance wasn’t going to do Jimmy much good right now.

Jimmy grimaced and let out a frustrated huff, one hand dropping from his bag to punch at the moss bed below him. Of course. Of course his bad luck had reared its ugly head once again. He’d only just made those potions too, ingredients purchased not too long ago from a market he’d stumbled upon halfway to the village…the village and the inn he was no longer sure if he’d be able to return to tonight. What little money he’d scrounged up for the trip, all going to waste.

Tango let out a soft “oh” and Jimmy looked up to see him eyeing Jimmy’s bag with a dawning saddened understanding. He must have seen the damp stain in the half-darkness, or heard the pieces of glass.

“So, uh…splint?” Tango offered again, sheepish. “It won’t be anything fancy, but it’ll be functional. It’ll do the job.”

What could Jimmy say? It wasn’t like he had another option, and Tango did seem like the type to know his way around wings better than the average stranger. So he nodded, a weak but grateful smile coming to life on his face.

“If you think you know what you’re doing,” Jimmy said. He was only somewhat anxious at the prospect. “I don’t think I’ll get very far otherwise.”

Tango immediately brightened, his smile wide and eyes aglow in the ever-dimming light. He let go of Jimmy’s shoulders and sat back on his heels, quickly digging through the bag he’d brought with him with newfound enthusiasm. The sticks around his head - blaze rods, they reminded Jimmy of blaze rods - bobbed in the air.

“You’re in good hands!” Tango assured, setting aside a roll of bandages before darting off toward a nearby tree. “Like I said, I know wings. Not all wings, of course, but - hey, I’m a smart guy. I can - ya know - apply my existing knowledge to the problem, or whatever they call it.”

He stood on his toes to reach a thin, low-hanging branch, his tail curling out for balance as he drew a short blade from a sheath at his waist. He hacked at the branch and broke it free, stumbling back a step from the force of his former handhold being cut loose.

By now, the hour of the day was causing Tango’s form to be bathed in shadow, little more than his silhouette half-lit by the moonlight reaching Jimmy’s eyes. The subtle glow around the man’s head only helped fractionally. From this distance Jimmy could see him moving quickly but cautiously around the clearing, occasionally stumbling and shooting out his hand, as if he wasn’t quite trusting of his surroundings. He’d managed to grab a few branches by now and had come to a sort of standstill on the far side of the clearing, his head cocked to the side and one ear perked up and his glowing eyes squinting through the dark.

Jimmy frowned, curious and a little concerned. Was there something lurking nearby that Jimmy couldn’t hear, even with his avian senses?

“Tango?” he spoke up, and Tango snapped his head toward him, immediately starting in his direction. Jimmy shifted anxiously, trying to sit up a little taller to see the treeline better. “Was there something out there, or - ah!”

He hissed, pain shooting up his wing, across his shoulder blade, through the muscles on the left half of his upper body. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten, foolishly, that he really shouldn’t be moving at all lest he worsen his injuries. Jimmy crumpled shakily back against the gnarled oak that still stood as his main form of support, his eyes squeezed shut and his breath coming out sharp and gasping. It was awful. Wings were sensitive as it was, and this - he grimaced and whimpered, a pitiful wheezing chirp escaping him - this was horrible. For all the various careless injuries Jimmy had managed to sustain over the years, this had to be the worst of them.

Jimmy was only vaguely aware of movement nearby, of footsteps and the shuffling of clothing and the shift of branches and warmth. There was a warmth in the air, and Jimmy swallowed back a whine and forced his eyes open again to blink blearily at who he could only assume was Tango returning with his collection of branches.

The space was brighter than before. There was a flicker of firelight coming from somewhere nearby, and the soft shifting light illuminated Tango’s face in a warm glow. He was watching Jimmy worriedly, one hand outstretched - though he hadn’t quite closed the gap to touch Jimmy’s shoulder the way he had earlier.

“You okay?” Tango asked, his brow furrowed, and Jimmy groaned.

“No.”

Tango stifled a snorting laugh, coughed, and did a very poor job of schooling his features.

“Eh - right. Yeah. Stupid question.” He shifted from a crouch to a kneel, reaching for the deposited pile of branches he’d scavenged. He picked them up one by one and ran his gloved hands down them, quickly snapping off any stray leaves and twigs before moving on to the next. “...I know you just met me, so you probably don’t trust me yet, but - uh.” He smiled weakly. “It might be a good idea for you to hunker down at my campsite for the night. If you want. I’ve got food, and blankets, and a fire…” He shrugged lopsidedly. “It ain’t anything fancy, but it’s safer ‘n out here, I bet. I don’t have much in the way of healing supplies, but I might have a potion to help with the pain.”

Tango finished off the last of the branches and brushed his gloves off on his pants, tugging at the fingers one by one to start taking them off completely. He tossed one aside on his bag and started in on the other, meeting Jimmy’s eyes and chuckling sheepishly.

“It’s my fault you’re not gonna be flying home anytime soon. Giving you a safe place to sleep tonight is the least I can do.”

Jimmy gaped at him, a warm gratitude arising unbidden in his chest. He let out a breath, slightly shaky from the still-lingering pain from his wing, and watched as Tango began rolling up his sleeves, his red eyes occasionally flicking back to check on Jimmy.

“...are you sure?” he asked weakly, surprised that a stranger would be so willing to offer such a thing to someone he’d just met. True, Tango seemed friendlier than most, but all the same - it was a pleasant surprise to be sure. He took a slow, strained breath “You don’t know me either. I could be a…a thief, or something, for all you know.”

Tango snorted, amused, and shook his head.

“You?” He laughed softly, a warm yet hoarse sort of sound. His eyes crinkled at the corners with his grin. “Nah. I know thieves. You don’t give me that vibe.”

“You know thieves?” Jimmy repeated. “Are you a thief?”

At that, Tango’s laughter became fuller, brighter, amusement making his shoulders shake as he fussed with the bandage roll he’d pulled from his bag earlier.

“Oh heck no,” he denied. “I think I’d get caught immediately if I tried. I can handle critters no problem, but my sneakification skills could use some work.” He shrugged and his grin grew crooked. “Or that might just be the company I keep. My friends know me too well.”

Tango chuckled to himself, then after a moment his expression softened, something more genuine coming over his features. The blaze rod look-alikes hovered in the air, casting light over his smile.

“That offer still stands,” he said, his tone softer, warmer. “My campsite’s not far. It’s safer than trying to walk home in the forest in the dark.”

Jimmy couldn’t deny that Tango had a point. And really, what reason had he been given to distrust Tango thus far? If the man tried anything, Jimmy had some spells under his belt that could protect him, weak magic or not. But even as that thought crossed his mind, Jimmy doubted he’d even need them. Tango was the kind of person who was ready and willing to help injured animals no matter the situation, and had been even more willing to help Jimmy once he realized he was more than just a creature in the woods. He had a kind heart to him.

Jimmy could trust him, at least for one night.

“Okay,” he murmured, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, that - yes. Thank you.”

Tango brightened and nodded.

“Happy to help.” Then he glanced toward Jimmy’s wing, his face becoming shadowed with worry and his eyes growing tense and thoughtful. He let out a slow, measured breath and shifted closer, mindful of where he was crouching and careful of the feathers draped over the ground. “I’m gonna have to touch your wing, okay? It’s not gonna be pleasant, but I’ve gotta figure out what’s broken.”

Almost immediately, Jimmy choked on his breath and he felt his face go very warm.

…oh. Oh, right. Right. Okay. His wing. Tango had to - okay. Okay.

“Okay,” Jimmy murmured weakly, even though most of him was insisting that it very much was not. Avian familiars and avian hybrids had their differences, but many cultural practices carried over between the two. Wings were sacred for one, protected, and the idea of allowing a perfect stranger to have his hands on Jimmy’s was - well. He swallowed thickly and took a slow breath, trying not to tense up too much.

It was necessary, he knew that. This wasn’t the same as a casual uninvited touch. His wing was broken, and Tango was just trying to help fix it. That was all. It was an emergency situation, an exception to the rule. Jimmy would just have to give this one a pass. Just this once. He could forgive himself for that, surely.

Tango nodded once, smiling apologetically, and Jimmy had to clench his jaw and look away when Tango reached out toward his broken wing.

Jimmy anticipated pain. He anticipated the same sharp agony that had overtaken him the last two times he had tried to move on his own…but that wasn’t quite what happened. Gentle fingers brushed against his uppermost feathers, following the joints and bones, prodding softly at points here and there and feeling along the edge of the limb for anything that felt out of place. But it was soft. It was delicate and careful, a practiced sort of gentleness that Jimmy could only assume came from years of handling other injured creatures, years of tending to animals that couldn’t communicate enough to tell him when he was about to hurt them.

For all of Tango’s gentleness though, he couldn’t avoid the pain forever. A dull ache started up the closer Tango got to the point of injury, and Jimmy hissed when Tango’s hands brushed over a particularly painful spot just this side of the wrist joint…but the moment he did Tango was muttering murmured apologies and pulling away.

Jimmy’s wheezing chirps were muffled against the fist he pressed to his mouth. It took everything he had not to jerk away, his shoulders pressed firmly against the tree behind him in an attempt to keep himself still. There was a knot on the trunk digging into his spine that was decidedly uncomfortable, but seeing as moving had been a much worse experience, Jimmy would take the discomfort over the pain any day of the week. It was a few more quiet, strained seconds before Jimmy felt hands on his wing again, and after a moment or two of much more painful prodding - and Jimmy stifling more pained sounds - Tango sat back with a sigh.

“Fractured radius, I think,” he said, and Jimmy heard him move slightly, the sound of shuffling sticks meeting his ears. “Maybe a partial fracture on the ulna? Hard to tell, and I don’t really wanna go poking too much when I’m not really an expert on birds.”

“A-Avians,” Jimmy corrected weakly, his eyes still closed and his head resting back against the oak tree. “Different.”

“Right. Yeah, ‘course. Avians. Got it.”

Jimmy pried one weary eye open to see Tango eyeing his wing calculatingly, a single branch held aloft and one sharp finger scraping a mark into the bark. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully before making a second line, a deeper one, an inch or so along from the first. That seemed to satisfy him because he nodded to himself and dug out his knife, sawing away at the mark he’d made. Shortening it maybe? Jimmy could only assume.

“...do you need my help with anything?” he asked in a murmur, and Tango glanced in his direction with a small smile. He shrugged.

“Not really, man,” he said. “You’ll have to sit up at some point, and you might wanna get your shirt off so I can wrap stuff properly. But I can handle the rest no problem.”

Jimmy blanched at the prospect of having to move again (ignoring, for the moment, that he’d have to do so eventually anyway when he followed Tango back to his camp), but he forced a jerky nod all the same.

He could do this. Definitely.

  Or perhaps, he conceded once Tango got started, it was less of a “definitely” and more of “maybe”. Tango hadn’t even done much yet and Jimmy was already biting down hard on the strap of his satchel like Tango had suggested, sweat beading at his brow and his other wing shaking against his back since it wasn’t being held still by Tango’s hands. Sitting up had been an ordeal on his own, helped somewhat by Tango making sure his injured wing remained stable, and now - everything was just aching. He had his arms around his knees with his fingers digging into the denim of his jeans, and everything just hurt. His back muscles were pissed, his chest felt tight, and the area around the actual break–

“Breathe in for me?” Tango muttered, and Jimmy only had a moment or two to comply before something shifted beneath Tango’s hands and pain exploded like fire beneath his feathers, a strangled sob and a pained avian screech escaping past the leather clenched between his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Tango said quickly, already rushing to collect one of the prepared branches from his lap. “I’m sorry man, I’m sorry, it sucks. I know. But that’s the worst of it.”

That, despite Jimmy being skeptical to believe it, turned out to be true. While Jimmy buried choked-off twitters and whines against his knees, Tango made quick work of bandaging his wing, his hands as careful as ever now that the bone had been set. Jimmy was only barely aware of what was being done, too focused on not focusing on the pain. By the time Tango’s voice broke through to him again his wing had been carefully folded into a natural position against his back, bandages and a few wrapped branches helping to hold it that way.

“...Jimmy? Buddy? You with me?”

Jimmy shifted his head against his arms and turned slightly to peer out at Tango, who was much closer than he had been a minute ago. He had already been close, of course, but now that he was carefully holding Jimmy’s bandaged wing in place against his back, Jimmy could feel the netherlike warmth radiating off of him from his proximity. It was comforting, cozy, especially in comparison to the ache throbbing through his back.

“Jimmy? ”

Jimmy finally registered Tango’s worried expression and he nodded, small and jerky, against his arms.

“M’ here.”

“Hey. Hey, man. D’you think you can sit up a bit? I’ve gotta wrap this around your chest to keep everything from moving.”

Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay.

It took him a moment to get his limbs to comply, but after a few slow breaths and a quiet, wheezing chirp, Jimmy did as he was told. He tugged the satchel strap out of his mouth and warily uncurled himself from his tense position. It was a good sign when he didn’t feel any burning agony in the process. He raised his arms somewhat so Tango could get beneath them, and when Tango finally sat back and eyed his handiwork, Jimmy could confidently say he felt a bit more stable than he’d been before. Despite the ever-lingering ache from his injury and the mild discomfort of a few feathers being ruffled beneath their bandages, his wing no longer screamed when he moved. It was the first time since being attacked by that ravager that he actually felt like he could get back on his feet.

Tango hovered beside him for a few long, quiet moments, eyeing him with a notable amount of concern.

“...how’s it feel?” he asked, and Jimmy cautiously rolled his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths, the bandages around his chest adding just a little bit of resistance, and he flexed his right wing just to be sure - then he nodded.

“Better,” he landed on, exhaustion in his words. “Good.”

Tension rolled off of Tango’s shoulders at that, a notable sigh of relief making his chest rise and fall. He dragged a hand over his face and used the other to grope out blindly toward his discarded bag.

“Thank the void.” He sat back on his feet and shoved his now-dwindled roll of bandages away where it belonged, swapping it for his gloves and tugging them on one after the other. “I’m not a doctor. I’ve just picked up a lot o’ stuff in my line of work. At worst, I was worried I’d make it too tight and you’d just end up hurtin’ all over again, but–” He shrugged and tossed a lopsided smile in Jimmy’s direction. “Looks like I was worried for nothing, huh?”

Jimmy, exhausted as he was, couldn’t do much more than manage a soft smile in return. But it was something. He took a moment to carefully put his satchel back over his shoulder, the strap falling neatly between his wings and managing to not irritate his injured one, much to his relief. He rolled his shoulders again, wincing slightly at the tiny spark of pain it caused…but it was minimal. It was a relief.

A gloved hand entered his line of vision and he raised his eyes, following it up to its owner. To Tango. Tango, who was grinning softly in the low firelight and already on his feet.

“Let’s get you back to camp, huh?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The journey through the trees to Tango’s campsite was a quiet one, much calmer than the chaos that had occurred back in the clearing. Tango had insisted on making sure Jimmy was okay to walk on his own before they started out into the forest - which was kind of him to do, but unnecessary really. He was a little lightheaded and the ache in his back slowed his pace slightly, but he was capable enough to manage on his own.

(All the same, Jimmy couldn’t remember the last time someone had actively and determinedly put Jimmy’s needs ahead of their own. It left his chest feeling warm and aching all at once, an odd combination that he decided not to think too much on.)

Much to Jimmy’s unspoken dismay, the trip back also involved Tango herding his ravager back along with them, nothing but the chain on its neck and Tango’s supposed strength keeping it tethered. Jimmy had, at first, been more than a little wary of the beast - rightfully so - and even now being in such close proximity to the thing left him feeling horribly on edge. But it hadn’t so much as looked in his direction more than once or twice since they’d started on their path. It seemed entirely disinterested in him, and Jimmy wasn’t sure if that was Tango’s doing or if it had simply lost interest in Jimmy of its own accord.

He wasn’t sure what had caused it to want to chase him down earlier. He was only glad Tango was there to stop it if it decided to do so again.

According to Tango, it would only be a ten minute walk back to where he’d set up camp. It wasn’t a long journey by any means, but if it had been any longer Jimmy was sure he would’ve had to take a break to rest. It was made easier as well by the conversation being traded between himself and his savior, stories Tango was telling of the troublesome ravager he’d had to save Jimmy from in the first place. This was, apparently, not the first time it had escaped from him.

“It doesn’t happen as much anymore,” he was explaining as he helped Jimmy over a fallen tree, mindful of his bandaged wing as he did so. “The guy’s not fully grown so he’s just a bit feistier than his parents. The rest of ‘em listen to me pretty well, but skippy over here is a stubborn one.” He chuckled, tossing an amused and annoyed look back over his shoulder, eyeing the ravager behind them with the same look one would give an adorable yet misbehaving puppy. “Downright menace, I tell ya - HEY! No! Watch the light!”

Jimmy turned back to see Tango bopping the ravager on its large snout, flicking its nose once and making it snort at him. Tango made some kind of twirling hand movement through the air and the light source that had been illuminating their way thus far moved, gravitating towards Tango’s palm from wherever it had been hovering, and–

Jimmy blinked owlishly, watching as Tango’s suddenly-gloveless hand was engulfed in flames. He eyed the brilliant glow curiously, the energy coming off of it making the edges of his awareness tingle slightly. That…that was magic. That was witch’s magic. Or - well, it felt close to it, traces of something foreign making it feel just slightly distinguished from what Jimmy was used to, but - all the same. His eyes drifted past the fire to Tango, who had turned to him amidst his scolding and whose expression softened into a sheepish little smile, and Jimmy found himself turning thoughtful.

Tango was a witch.

Tango was a witch, but back in the clearing, he had called Jimmy an avian hybrid instead of a familiar.

Did Tango not know what a familiar’s magic felt like, or what a familiar was? Tango was some species of hybrid that Jimmy wasn’t yet acquainted with, but the red eyes and sharp teeth and his seeming penchant for flames had already given Jimmy the impression that Tango was from the nether or something. The glowing sticks encircling his head reminded Jimmy so strongly of blaze rods that he was beginning to wonder if that’s what they were. The nether was a different dimension entirely. Did witches work differently there? Did magic work differently there? Is that why this magic felt a hair’s breadth away from what Jimmy was used to…?

Or maybe Tango hadn’t wanted to call out what Jimmy was so plainly. It wasn’t as if all witches who openly recognized a familiar for what they were did it with kind intent. (Memories of what had happened with the Watcher Coven were proof enough of that.) Maybe this was Tango trying to prove himself a friendly stranger. Maybe–

“You alright there Jimbo?”

“Have you been using flames this whole time?” The question left him without much thought, his own curiosity getting the best of him, and Tango blinked. “Even back in the clearing, just before sundown…there was light. And I didn’t even think about it.”

Tango chuckled sheepishly and glanced at the flames in his hand. He shrugged and seemed to curl in around the fire.

“Well…yeah. I just can’t, uh. I just can’t see too well in the dark,” he said, his ears pressed halfway back against his head. “Like, I really can’t, so I need light. And fire’s easy.” There was a kind of uneasy silence that passed between them, though for the life of him Jimmy couldn’t fathom why. Tango shifted awkwardly, his blaze rods dimming. “...I can control it, if that’s what you’re worried about. No burnification happening here.”

Jimmy blinked at him, processing the words, and - oh. Oh. Oh, no, he–

“No, nonono, you’re fine!” he assured quickly, his hands placating. “No, sorry, that’s not - I didn’t–” He cut himself off before he had a chance to put his foot in his mouth and he laughed weakly, flustered and sheepish. “Oh my gosh, I’m so oblivious. I didn’t notice, is all. This whole time and I didn’t even notice you’d made fire.”

Tango seemed to open up a bit, his head cocking to the side and his uneasy smile turning more genuine.

“You don’t mind?”

Jimmy snorted out a giggle.

“Do I - no, of course not!” He’d be hypocritical if he did, being a mage himself. “I spent ages with someone who had strong ice magic. Fire’s just another element, innit?”

That seemed to be what Tango was hoping to hear because the relief that swept through him was palpable, his expression glowing and his grin wide and bright. He huffed out a half chuckle and nodded, tossing the flames upward again so they could light the way once more.

“Yeah,” he agreed, falling into step beside Jimmy again, the ravager following not far behind. His voice was low and warm, a little bit soft in a way Jimmy couldn’t quite name. “Yeah. Just another element.”

Something had lightened between them. It wasn’t significant, not all too palpable, but there was a level of ease to their conversations that hadn’t been there before. Familiarity, maybe, or…something. Something else. It was nice, whatever it was. Friendly and comfortable, something Jimmy got the feeling they’d both been needing for a while.

Tango was easy to get along with. They weren’t even talking about anything important, just - talking. Just being friendly. And it was cozy. Cozy, yeah, that was a good word for it. It was cozy and it was comfortable, and easy.

Their friendly chatter carried them all the way back to Tango’s campsite, at which point Jimmy came to an abrupt halt and couldn’t help but stare.

He had known Tango worked with magical creatures. He’d known this, and he’d seen the ravager he was herding, and he’d heard Tango say something about its parents and “the rest”. But despite all that he somehow he hadn’t quite put two and two together, and he now found himself staring at an entire herd of ravagers of varying sizes, most of them - that Jimmy could see - tethered to nearby trees with chains that were near identical to the one Tango had been toting all evening. There had to be half a dozen in all, though with how they were slowly shifting about, it was hard for Jimmy to count. All he knew was he was looking at more ravagers in one place right at that moment than all the ravagers he’d seen in his life before now put together.

Tango hadn’t been wrong in saying the one that had chased Jimmy down wasn’t fully grown. Two of the herd were larger than the rest, their statures even more intimidating than Jimmy’s attacker…and Jimmy’s breath caught at the mere idea of being cornered by one of them.

Tango seemed entirely unfazed by their size. He led the wayward miscreant back toward the rest of the herd with practiced ease, muttering more scolding berations as he went. He was greeted by the largest beast the moment he was close enough, its massive snout nosing at his hair and making him laugh.

“Yeah, hi, hello! I’m back, I’m back! Knock it off, will ya…?”

Despite his protests, Tango didn’t seem to mind its proximity one bit. He finished chaining up the runaway and turned around, patting a gloved hand against the muzzle of the big guy and chuckling with each huffed breath against his hair. A small smile began to grow, unbidden, on Jimmy’s face, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders as he watched on.

Tango looked at home here. He looked so natural and at ease among his creatures, as though he understood what they were trying to say, as if he spoke their language. He wasn’t even a little bit scared, not like Jimmy would be in his shoes. Another ravager ambled up to him, this one much much smaller, its small-horned head butting up against Tango’s legs and nearly knocking him over. As it stood, Tango barely managed to stay standing, and the look on his face had Jimmy biting back a laugh.

Tango’s eyes raised to meet his. There was a sparkle to them, a joy in them and a crinkle at their corners, and Jimmy’s grin only brightened at the sight.

Then Tango was waving him over.

Oh, gosh. Okay then. He…he could trust Tango. Right? The man was perhaps a bit mad to be herding ravagers of all things by himself, but he obviously knew what he was doing. And after all the kindness he’d shown Jimmy tonight, he wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Jimmy took a few tentative steps forward, ever mindful of the large beasts that were meandering in that corner of the campsite’s clearing. He wasn’t sure if he could trust them. Tango may have known how to communicate with them, but Jimmy surely didn’t, and something he had done earlier must have told the ravager he’d met that he was worth chasing. He kept his wing tucked close to his back, his steps slow and unsure. The grip on his satchel strap tightened incrementally whenever one of them snorted or huffed a little too loudly. But then he was all of eight feet away from Tango and Tango was detangling himself from the rest of the herd.

“Here, c’mere!” Tango grabbed him by the hand and tugged him forward, not even questioning it when Jimmy ended up half-tucking himself behind the other man’s body like it was a shield. “You’ll like this little guy, I promise. He’s a bit shy so we’re gonna go slow.”

Shy…?

Jimmy frowned at Tango, confused, but then he looked to where Tango was leading him. There, in the shadows of one of the larger trees at the edge of the clearing, was perhaps the smallest of the herd. He was tucked close to one of the bigger ravagers and watching Tango and Jimmy warily, taking a step back the moment they grew too close. It was then that Tango came to a stop, his tail dancing lazily behind him and a soft smile on his face.

“Here,” Tango murmured, tugging on Jimmy’s hand again. He maneuvered him around until his hand was outstretched, palm toward the tiny creature…and then he let go. He took a step back so he was just behind Jimmy’s right wing, so Jimmy was the one in front, and - oh. Oh no. Oh, Jimmy didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit–

“Relax,” Tango murmured, his voice low and close to Jimmy’s ear. “He’s more scared of you than you are of him. Just breathe, okay? C’mon man, you’ve got this. It’s just a baby.”

Just a baby. Just a baby, right. Okay. Yeah. He could - yeah.

Jimmy swallowed past the anxious lump in his throat and took a slow breath, just like Tango had told him. He stayed still, his hand shaking slightly, and he waited. And waited. Was…was he meant to be doing anything else? Was he meant to get closer, or say something, or…?

After what felt like ages, Jimmy began to turn his head to ask Tango one of those very questions, and it was then that the little ravager finally moved. He shuffled forward, snuffing at the air with his head raised curiously, his green eyes watching Jimmy oh-so-carefully. His stubby feet padded unsteadily against the trampled grass as he went. Then - when he was close enough for Jimmy to feel his puffed breaths against his hand - it seemed to gain a bit more confidence. It jolted forward and Jimmy flinched back, unable to move far with Tango behind him, and he closed his eyes on impulse alone–

Something warm and soft met his palm. Very soft, softer than Jimmy had been anticipating. A quiet snickering laugh sounded near his ear.

“Open your eyes, buddy.”

Jimmy did as Tango asked and squinted one eye open, his face and shoulders tense all the while, and - oh. The ravager was nuzzling up against his hand, sniffing at the underside of his wrist curiously. His tail flicked back and forth behind him, and it was only now that the little guy was closer that Jimmy noticed the differing shade of gray in the younger ravager’s coat compared to the older ones. It was just a little lighter with white flecked through it and darker patches across his shoulders and back. And it was soft. Jimmy let out a breath of wonder and his expression softened, his eyes going slightly wide as he gently ran his hand up the ravager’s snout. The little thing leaned into it, snorting quietly and taking another step closer, seemingly chasing after what affection Jimmy was willing to give.

Something about him was familiar, and it didn’t take long for Jimmy to figure out why. He reminded Jimmy startling of a baby cow, of one of the calves he had taken care of at the cottage. Despite the stockier build and the broader shoulders and deeper vocal patterns, the mannerisms and the ways they communicated were so, so similar. It was like comparing a wild wolf to a domesticated dog. They were different, certainly, but at the end of the day they were part of the same family. Perhaps ravagers were just an offshoot of a different species that lived centuries ago, one that the modern cows and bulls also descended from. Maybe.

Wide, green, cowlike eyes blinked up at Jimmy, drooping little gray ears flicking a little bit alongside, and as Jimmy let his hand shift to gently stroke the side of the calf’s neck, he all but melted in the face of such a sweet creature. Forget what he’d said about ravagers earlier. This one was adorable, and he clearly wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He was just a little friend.

The young ravager let out a honking sort of mewl, one that had Tango chuckling over Jimmy’s shoulder. In truth, Jimmy had been so wrapped up in the small creature before him he’d forgotten Tango was still there.

“You’re not hungry,” Tango told the calf, his tone almost teasing. “I watched you eat. Quit begging, you little stinker.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked, fighting back a smile as the ravager nosed at Jimmy’s satchel. He tugged it gently out of the way so no leaking potions could touch the little guy’s snout. “He’s very insistent, Tango.”

“No. Nuh-uh.” Tango reached around Jimmy to scritch around the nubs of the calf’s tiny horns, shaking his head just barely out of the corner of Jimmy’s eye. “I like giving ‘em treats, but I’ve only got so much to last the trip. He’ll do just fine until breakfast tomorrow.”

Jimmy finally dragged his attention away from the ravager to eye Tango curiously.

“Why’re you herding these guys anyway? You never said.”

“Well,” Tango stepped out from behind Jimmy to better give attention to the calf, rubbing the bridge of its snout with his knuckles and smiling lopsidedly when it let out another honking whine for food, “I think I said I work with magical creatures for a living. Beasts, critters, monsters, wayward pets - all of it. I prefer working with the big guys, but–” He shrugged and his smile was turned toward Jimmy instead. “–I like wee beasties just as much.”

The little ravager pressed its head more insistently against Tango’s stomach and Tango sighed dramatically, seemingly caving and digging through the bag still slung across his shoulder.

“Okay, okay!” he drawled, pulling a leather pouch free and holding it high above his head where the calf couldn’t reach it. “Hold your horses!”

It was another few moments of Tango juggling the pouch in one hand and holding back a wiggling baby ravager with the other, and it was only when Jimmy stepped in to distract the little guy with scratches around his horn nubs - just like he’d seen Tango do - that Tango finally had a chance to pour some of the pouch’s contents out onto his gloved palm. Jimmy barely caught a glance of something small and bright red before Tango offered it to the ravager, and the little snack vanished quickly amid small snuffs and tiny muted grunts. Berries, if he had to guess.

“Hungry little goofball,” Tango muttered, shaking his head in warm amusement. He let the ravager finish off his treat and wiped his hand on his pants, scratching the top of the little guy’s head one more time for good measure. “Anyway…like I said, I work with creatures.”

Jimmy perked up, tuning back into the story and watching as Tango stowed the little snack pouch away. He plucked deftly at the fingertips of his goves, tugging them both off and tucking them away alongside the pouch.

“I got a job - oh, ‘bout two weeks back?” Tango shrugged and fastened the closure on his bag. “Some guy a little further to the west had some complaints about some big buggers that were uprooting his field and eating his fresh sprouts.” He nodded toward the herd with a small grin. “These guys.”

The little ravager slowly returned to where he’d been hiding, tucking up close to the larger ravager from before and nuzzling in close. Tango watched him for a moment before turning away. His path carried him back to the other end of camp where Jimmy could now make out the rest of Tango’s setup. A small stone-edged firepit had been dug into the earth with a kettle hanging over it, and just beyond that was a small cave entrance Jimmy hadn’t noticed before. The whole campsite had been tucked up against a cliff face, probably safer from the elements than it would have been to set up camp in another more open clearing, and though it was too dark to see inside, Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion the cave probably extended far enough into the rock to allow someone to bunk there for the night if need be.

All the while, the glowing flames Tango had been using to illuminate the night followed them overhead, and it was only now as they approached the fire pit that he summoned them downward to his bare palm again. The blaze rods burned brighter around his head as if to make up for the shift in lighting.

“So anyway, I show up at his place,” Tango went on, crouching on the balls of his feet to fuss with the pit’s kindling, drawing fresh wood over from a pile not far off, “and he’s this grumpy old jerk. He’s spewing all these complaints about ‘miserable creatures’ and ‘they’re a menace I tell you!’ and I’m just nodding along, all friendly-like, like “Yes sir, of course sir”. And I tell him I’ll take a look - oh, sorry Jimmy, uh. There’s a blanket over there if you wanna sit on something other than the ground.”

Jimmy’s eyes followed Tango’s gesturing hand to a small wooden cart, one tucked away in the trees, and he murmured a friendly thanks as he went to fetch the blanket Tango had mentioned. He carefully shouldered off his bag as he went, the broken glass inside tinkling beneath the leather and making him wince. He’d have to clean that out later.

He set it aside to look for the blanket, and Tango’s story continued on in the background.

“So I tell him I’ll take a look, right? And I go out there - and it’s this tiny herd of ravagers. Two big ones, two adolescents, and a handful of calves. I’m talkin’ just born calves, absolutely tiny things.”

“Like the one I just met?” Jimmy asked, understanding, and Tango nodded vigorously.

“Exactly! That little guy’s only a few weeks old.” He shifted one last log, made a twisting motion with his hand, and the campfire came to life with warmth and light. He grinned, victorious, and clapped his hands a few times to get rid of bits of bark and debris. Then he squinted over at Jimmy through the semi-darkness “Uh - yeah, that one. Plop it down and we can take a breather.”

Jimmy, who had been holding a thick blue blanket aloft in question, let out a little sigh of relief and did as he was asked. He started to unfold it across the ground near the fire and Tango reached over to help lay it out. Jimmy smiled at him in gratitude.

“So basically, there were a bunch of ravagers on some guy’s property, and he just asked you to take them off his hands?”

Tango’s expression darkened. For a moment, Jimmy wondered if he’d said something wrong.

“No.” Tango let out a short, wheezing huff, his hair suddenly crackling with sparks, and Jimmy eyed the tiny flickering flames with concern. “Nah. The guy - he wasn’t friendly, like I said.” Tango tugged at one corner of the blanket forcefully, smoothing it out with a little more sharpness than was necessary. “I told him what was back there, and he wanted me to–” Tango’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed, smoke leaking into the air from somewhere Jimmy couldn’t place. From somewhere on Tango. “He said to deal with them, and he didn’t mean it in the casual sense.”

Jimmy, who had been carefully settling down onto the blanket in an attempt to avoid jostling his bound wing, took longer than he should have to register what Tango meant.

“Wh - wait, like–”

“He wanted them gone,” Tango muttered sharply, irately, his tail lashing at the air behind him as he dropped onto the blanket himself. “Didn’t matter that some of ‘em were just babies.”

Jimmy’s expression fell, his eyes trailing to the far corner of the clearing where the smallest of the ravagers was still hiding in the shadows, shy and sweet and wanting nothing but affection and food.

“I told him there were bitties over there too, but he just–” Tango scoffed, raking back his hair with both hands, a snarl curling his lips. Then he yanked off his bag, dropping it in his lap and sorting through it jerkily, harshly. The remaining branches he hadn’t used were tossed toward the collection of firewood and the pouch of berries was dropped by Tango’s side. The blaze rods around his head spun rapidly with his irritation, aglow with internal flames. “They only wanted food! They were hungry, and they had their calves out of season, so they didn’t migrate north with the rest of the herd–”

Then Tango yanked a tangle of rope from his bag a little too harshly, elbowing Jimmy in the process, and Jimmy sucked down a sharp breath with a shocked chirp at the jolt of pain it sent sparking through his wing. Tango’s attention instantly snapped to him and his anger dissipated in a heartbeat, wide red eyes and a startled expression coming to life on his face.

“Shit, sorry!” he stammered out quickly, scrambling to his knees and creating a small distance between them. “I’m sorry man, that–” He glanced toward Jimmy’s bound wing, eyeing the way Jimmy was clutching at his shoulder with a wince. Jimmy’s attempt at a strained smile went unseen. “I’ll grab that potion for you. Hold tight.”

Then he was scampering off, ducking into the cave’s entrance and vanishing into the shadows. Jimmy stared after him as the momentary pain faded back to a dull throbbing ache.

Tango was, perhaps, one of the strangest people Jimmy had ever met. Not the strangest by far - Pearl could be much stranger in comparison - but he certainly wouldn’t be someone Jimmy would be forgetting anytime soon. He had this aura of unending, boundless energy to him, and an air of easy joy and excitement. Despite the crisis of a situation that had brought them together today, Jimmy was sure he’d seen Tango smiling more than frowning since they’d met. There was also his fiery nature - physically and metaphorically - that still had Jimmy wondering what, exactly, he was and where he came from…but only for his own curiosity rather than for judgment’s sake. It was unique, it was definitely unique in Jimmy’s experience, and Jimmy wasn’t sure he could picture Tango any other way than with his ruby eyes and fiery hair and animated tail and flames.

He was also warmth, Jimmy noted. Warmth and kindness and compassion. Zealous compassion, from what Jimmy had seen, but also gentleness when needed. Tango carefully splinting Jimmy’s wing with as much care as he could muster. Tango easing Jimmy into meeting a young ravager, going slow so neither Jimmy nor the ravager would get spooked in the process. He was kind. He was a good person, one who grew irate at the thought of creatures being killed for no reason, and one who offered Jimmy his hospitality for the night to ensure he’d get home safely the next day.

Jimmy smiled softly to himself, his unbound wing going lax and comfortable against his back. It was rare to find kind strangers, but Tango was proving to be the exception. A kind stranger and pleasant company to boot. For all that Jimmy often thought himself unlucky, he seemed to have run into a wondrous stroke of good luck, despite the injury he’d sustained in the process. It was a welcome change.

The feathers around Jimmy’s ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned to see Tango finally returning, his arms ladened with a few more things than Jimmy had been expecting to see. He frowned curiously, his head cocking to the side and his feathers flaring.

“Did you not find the potion?”

Tango ducked below a low branch and settled onto the blanket beside Jimmy again, the firelight illuminating one side of his sheepishly smiling face. He let his haul tumble to the ground beside him, retaining his hold on a stoppered glass bottle as he did so.

“Nah, I found it,” he said. “Like I said, I don’t have a healing potion, but this’ll help with the pain.”

He handed it over and Jimmy took it with grateful hands, letting out a breath and carefully tugging out the stopper. The lingering smell of nether wart and sweet fruit met his nose and he sighed, the semi-familiarity a balm on his senses. He sipped at it slowly, the fizzy coolness of it tickling at his throat. He felt his magic rush up to meet it, the cool soothe shifting to a cozy sort of warmth as it settled in his very being, his aching shoulder and back the first to be alleviated. By the time the effects reached his wing, Jimmy felt like putty, a pleasant buzz just beneath his skin that was far more welcome than the ache and sharp jolting pains that he’d been doing his best to ignore before.

“Better?”

Tango sounded amused, and when Jimmy blinked sluggishly up at him, he caught sight of a cheeky sort of grin on the other man’s face. He nodded and smiled, more than a little grateful.

“Immensely. Thank you.” He restoppered the bottle and held it out for Tango to take, but Tango just pushed it back in Jimmy’s direction.

“Dude, keep it,” he insisted. “I don’t know how long of a trip you’ve got to get back home, but you’ll need it even if it’s short. Trust me.”

Jimmy had half a mind to insist right back, but - well. Tango looked quite determined, and he was already turning back to his pile of acquisitions before Jimmy could even attempt to get a word in edge-wise. So Jimmy let it lie.

“What is all that?” he asked instead, setting the potion bottle aside for later and trying to see past Tango to the items he’d brought back with him.

Tango flashed a grin over his shoulder before turning to face him, presenting a foil-made bowl of sorts with a mix of ingredients inside it.

“Food!” He announced proudly. “It’s not much, just some chicken and veggies and red pepper action. Couple spices. I normally like my food super spiced, but I kinda figured you’d want something a bit more on the normal scale.”

Jimmy eyed the mix hungrily, eagerly, already nodding along to whatever Tango was describing.

“Please,” he agreed. “Thank you. Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think to bring anything with me, you’re a lifesaver.”

He hadn’t eaten a thing since leaving the inn that morning. He wasn’t planning on eating lunch because it sometimes threw him off when he was trying to attune or meditate, but he’d also assumed he’d be back in town before sundown. Whatever meal he would have eaten was sitting back in his room in the ice box.

Tango shrugged and waved him off with a lopsided grin.

“Naaah, it’s just campout food. It’s nothin’ special. I put a bunch of stuff in a stasis chest for the trip. Potatoes and chicken and stuff is easy.” He shifted forward and crouched on the balls of his feet beside the fire, wrapping the food up into a tinfoil ball and plunging his entire fist into the flames.

Jimmy almost yelped to warn him away from burning himself before remembering that Tango was, in fact, a being of fire himself. As it stood, the strangled twittering sound that escaped him was just as humiliating and Jimmy ended up flushing under Tango’s shit-eating grin all the same.

It reminded him of Grian, but with far less malice.

“What, worried over little ol’ me?” Tango teased cheekily.

Jimmy took the mature route and stuck his tongue out at him. Tango only laughed.

In the comfortable quiet that followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire, the distant sound of ravagers, and the sizzle of cooking food, Jimmy scooted closer to the front edge of the blanket to bask in the warmth of the flames. He uncurled his unbound wing and stretched it leisurely, letting the fire warm his feathers for a moment or two. His eyes drifted over toward the shifting herd tethered across the clearing.

“...do you normally handle big creatures like this by yourself?” he asked, curious, and Tango turned his head slightly to give Jimmy a momentary glance.

“Nowadays, yeah,” he said, returning his focus to the food. “I didn’t used to. I had a team I used to work with - bunch of friends, really. Four of us. Me, Skizz, Etho, and Bdubs. We were the best.” He snorted, chuckling lightly at a joke of some kind that Jimmy must’ve not been privy to.

“Not anymore?” Jimmy asked. Tango merely shrugged, his grin still lingering, though Jimmy could see the way it grew more melancholy at the edges.

“Nah,” said Tango. “The team kinda busted up. Little over a year ago, there was this…” He turned the foil over in the flames, pondering for a moment. “...well, I guess I’d call it an incident. Explosion? Something like that. Nobody was seriously hurt, but the whole damn building went sky-high.”

Jimmy gaped at him

“Holy moly - are you serious?!”

“Dead serious.” Tango smirked. “You ever heard of a wither?”

At the mention of its name, Jimmy paled, his eyes widening slightly. A wither? They were demonic wraiths, powerful ones. They usually only ever appeared in the overworld if summoned by hand, and they were extremely difficult to take down once summoned. They breathed death and left unease and lifelessness in their wake.

“Yeah,” he murmured, and Tango grinned sharply.

“Well, Etho and Bdubs managed to summon one by accident. Took all of us to take the damn thing out, and Bdubs got hit with some major witherfication in the process. The guy was bedridden for a whole day afterward.”

Jimmy stared. By…by accident? How–

“Etho and Bdubs ended up going their separate ways after that, and my buddy Skizz heard news that another friend of ours was headin’ home for a month before taking a gig with a coven of some kind, so he went off to spend some time with the guy.” Tango pulled the foil from the fire with a sniff, shrugging one shoulder as he peeled back the outermost layer to take a look inside. “Which left me without backup. I liked the job too much to just stop, so I kept on going without ‘em.”

“By accident?” Jimmy blurted out, still staring at Tango, gobsmacked. Tango, who was rewrapping the foil to shove it back into the fire, flicked one ear in his direction.

“Hm?”

“The wither,” he said. “They summoned it by accident.”

“Uh - oh! Yeah,” Tango snorted and chuckled. “Yeah, they did.”

“How??”

“Oh, you know…” Tango made a swirling motion in the air with one hand, his tail dancing lazily behind him. “...Etho’s a pretty strong witch, and Bdubs was his familiar. Perfect fit, they always said, and - I mean from what I could tell they were insanely powerful together. Their spells were friggin’ nuts. They ended up breaking their bond or whatever after the wither shindig happened, for safety they said, and - I dunno.” He shrugged, picking at the foil again to check the cooking food. “I asked Etho after Bdubs had already left, and he just said they were too compatible. It’s why he went looking for another familiar.” He sat back on his heels and reached for a wayward tin plate with his free hand, toting it close and dropping the half-wrapped and now sizzling, steaming food onto it. “He said something about a…I don’t know, magical overload? Too much fuel for the fire? Hels if I know, I don’t know a lick about magic. That was more Impy’s area of expertise…”

For what seemed like the umpteenth time since meeting Tango that night, Jimmy found himself staring gobsmacked at the semi-stranger in front of him. He didn’t know much about magic…? What in the world was Tango even–

“But you’re a witch,” he said bluntly, and Tango paused, shooting him an incredulous, amused look. He let out a confused giggle, his brow furrowing with his smile.

“What?” He tilted his head. “What, you mean the flameification? The fire? That’s just netherborn stuff. I’m a blaze hybrid, it’s what we do.”

“No - no, that–” Jimmy shook his head. He was only half paying attention as Tango separated half of the meat and vegetables onto a second plate and pressed it into Jimmy’s hands. The tin plate only survived gravity thanks to some sort of muscle memory on Jimmy’s part to automatically grab what he’d been handed. “I felt the magic in your flames. That’s witch magic. It’s a bit different, but it’s definitely a witch’s magic.”

Tango plopped onto the blanket beside Jimmy with a disbelieving laugh, plate in hand and smile as incredulous as before.

“Uh - no, it’s nether magic,” he corrected, though he sounded a bit less sure of himself. “My best friend is a witch. He would’ve known if - wait you felt my magic?” he cut himself off abruptly, eyes locking sharply on Jimmy. He gave the avian a once-over, his eyebrows flying high. “Are you a witch?”

Jimmy spluttered.

“I - no! I’m not a–” He set his untouched plate aside, spinning to face Tango more fully on the blanket. No wonder Tango had thought he was an avian hybrid before. “I’m a familiar. A canary.” He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder toward his wings, which Tango was now taking in with a dawning spark of understanding in his eyes. “I’ve been bound to a witch before, I know what a witch’s magic feels like. And you’ve got it.”

Tango was quiet in the aftermath of that statement, his own food just as untouched as Jimmy’s and a still, puzzled expression on his face. His tail had curled close around him at some point during Jimmy’s insistent declaration and one of his ears flicked every so often in the following silence, his hair and blaze rods sparking slightly in the fire-lit darkness of the night.

Then Tango’s gaze dropped, one hand coming up to summon a few tiny, swirling flames above his palm.

“...you…this?” He held the flames out toward Jimmy. “This feels like witch stuff?”

He sounded quiet, curious. Unsure.

Jimmy took an even breath and reached forward, his hand hovering above Tango’s and basking in the tiny warmth. He closed his eyes, his magical core reaching out in a similar manner to how it had when he’d attempted to attune early that afternoon. This time, rather than emanating from his entire being, it centered around his extended hand, dancing around his fingers and swirling out into the air around his palm. Just as before, Tango’s fire - his magic - was easy to sense, the warmth of it and the familiar traces of witchcraft resonating in Jimmy’s peripherals. Now that he was actively seeking it out, though, he was able to read it so much clearer than before. It was a bit chaotic, constantly moving and dancing around Jimmy’s magic, curious and uncontrolled and almost new. It wasn’t quite a fledgling core - Tango was too old for that - but it was undeveloped. Untried, untrained. It was warm and welcoming too, reaching out and drawing Jimmy in with an open sort of innocent curiosity that was usually trained out of most mages at a young age.

But Tango hadn’t been trained, Jimmy realized.

Tango hadn’t even known he was a witch to begin with.

Tango didn’t have a clue what he was doing, hadn’t even realized the untapped potential singing just below his chest until…until Jimmy. And maybe he wouldn’t have known for a long while after, if Jimmy had never come along.

Tango sucked down a sharp, gasped breath and Jimmy pulled back, his eyes flying open and his magic reigning itself in quickly.

“What - what?” he stammered out, his unbound wing puffing up in concern. “What’d I do?”

Tango’s other hand was pressed to his chest and his eyes were wide, awestruck, his hair aglow seemingly from within. He blinked a few times before meeting Jimmy’s eyes.

“I…felt that,” he whispered. “Whatever that was. I felt - what the heck was that?”

Jimmy frowned, concerned.

“I just…reached out?” he offered with a one-shouldered shrug. “Your magic reached back a bit, but that’s all. I didn’t do much. Why, did it hurt?”

“No, it–” Tango rubbed his knuckles over his sternum, looking thoughtful. Then he chuckled, a watery, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “It was just weird. And warm. And, uh - I dunno. Sparkly.”

“Sparkly?” Jimmy repeated. His worry melted away and he smiled softly. Magic. Tango was sensing magic, maybe for the first time. “Did it feel familiar, or completely new?”

“A bit familiar, yeah,” Tango nodded slowly. “Kinda like…” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “This sounds nuts, but it kinda felt like–” He eyed his palm, where the flames he had summoned had long since gone out. “–well, you know when you meet someone on the street, and you know you know them, but you can’t remember why? Or they just - look different than the last time you saw them, so you can’t figure out where you know ‘em from until like an hour later? It’s like that.”

“Like someone you used to know?” Jimmy offered, his head tilting to the side and his ear feathers flaring. Tango nodded more vigorously.

“Yeah, that! Exactly.” A brilliant grin had come to life on his face, giddy almost, and he poked his own chest. “Like - right here, I could feel that. And–” He broke off, recognition dawning, and he stared wide-eyed at Jimmy. “Oh my god, I’m a witch.”

Jimmy grinned brightly.

“You are!” he agreed, his unbound wing fluttering in his excitement. “That’s what I was saying!”

Tango laughed, a bit giddy and hysterical at first, then it grew brighter. Bright and loud and full-bodied, his amusement and excitement and joy palpable in the rasping laughter resonating in the clearing.

“Oh my gods, Impy’s never gonna believe this!” he crowed, seemingly overjoyed. “The guy’s been the only witch in our friend group for years, and now here I am - some sorta incognito witch-in-hiding. Like a sleeper agent.” He bounced a bit where he sat, grinning brilliantly at Jimmy. “I feel like I should be asking you what my code word was, man. This is - this is unreal.”

Jimmy warmed at the sight of Tango’s excitement, his energy infectious and his grin ever-present. The space beneath his ribs felt so full of joy for this zany stranger that he was sure he’d pop. Tango had never known. His whole life, and he’d never known, and now that he knew - it was like watching a kid on Christmas the way he seemed to be lighting up from the inside. This whole piece of himself that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing out on, and now it was like they’d suddenly been reunited. Jimmy couldn’t even imagine.

“Wait - you know magic,” Tango said suddenly, and Jimmy straightened.

“I - yeah?”

“Can you teach me?”

Oh - oh, gosh.

“I - well…” Jimmy’s smile turned a bit strained and his ear feathers flattened against his head, his wing drooping against the blanket. “...I’m not very good.”

“I doubt that,” Tango scoffed. “I bet you know loads of stuff.”

And he did, to a point, Tango wasn’t wrong. But knowing magic and being skilled in magic were two vastly different things. Jimmy opened his mouth, closed it, and chewed on his lip, trying to explain that he really wasn’t the person Tango should be turning to for magical training.

Tango, fortunately, managed to come up with a solid distraction before Jimmy even needed to say a word.

“Oh - food. We didn’t even eat yet, I completely forgot–”

Tango was reaching across to grab Jimmy’s meal before he even noticed Tango had gotten close, a tin plate balanced in each hand. For a moment, Jimmy wasn’t sure what Tango was doing - and then a low heat began to resonate off of the plates and the food they held. Oh - fire, of course. Warmth. Tango’s specialty. After a few long moments Tango set both plates down between them, grinning proudly.

“Magic,” he declared, waggling his eyebrows, and Jimmy couldn’t really stifle the small laugh it drew from him as a result. “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold again. I wanna learn some more about this witch stuff before I get too tired to focus.”

Ah. Or perhaps Jimmy wasn’t quite as off the hook as he’d hoped.

Tango had been kind enough (and willing enough) to fill the quiet between bites of their meal. He had plenty of stories to tell about past jobs he’d taken, it seemed - though Jimmy hadn’t a clue what a sniffer was or why it was so rare. He just reveled in how excited Tango seemed to be to have encountered one in the first place.

But at some point, when Jimmy was following Tango down to a nearby stream to rinse their dishes, the conversation turned to Jimmy instead. It wasn’t that Jimmy had been avoiding talking about himself necessarily, but - well. With how sore certain events in his recent past still were, it wasn’t as if Jimmy had been chomping at the bit to tell his own dramatic tale.

“I never asked - what’re you even doing out here in the forest?” Tango had asked. “It’s a bit deep in to just be going for a stroll.”

And Jimmy - well, Jimmy simply didn’t have the heart to lie to him after Tango had shared so much of his own story tonight.

“Er…attuning,” he murmured, leaning his shoulder against a tree as he watched Tango’s crouched form at the river’s edge. “I’ve had a bit of trouble with my familiar transformations lately, so my brothers said I ought to find a place to attune.” At the puzzled look Tango shot over his shoulder - ah, right, Tango wouldn’t know the terminology - Jimmy elaborated. “Attuning’s like - magical meditation? Sort of? It…well, for familiars, you’re basically trying to find harmony between your human side and your familiar side. To make it easier to shift back and forth, to be able to tap into certain abilities - that sort of thing. So, for me, it’s me and my inner canary.”

“Ahhh.” Tango nodded in understanding. He tapped the second tin plate lightly against his knee to dislodge some of the loose water still lingering on it. “So - what, you and your inner birdy aren’t getting along?”

Jimmy snorted.

“No, not–” He huffed out a half laugh. “Not like that. It’s more like things just aren’t syncing up, is all.” And I’m not strong enough, a small, traitorous voice in the back of his head murmured, one he shoved away forcefully with a barely restrained grimace.

“Did it help?”

“Hm?”

Tango, who had stood and approached him by now, made a vague gesture in the direction of Jimmy’s wings.

“The whole - attunification thing,” he wiggled his fingers as if to mimic magic of some kind. “Did it help?”

Jimmy winced.

“Not yet,” he admitted. “I’m not great at meditation anyway, and my wings were too itchy. I kept getting distracted.”

“Oof. That sucks.”

Jimmy shrugged, trailing after Tango back to camp, the now-familiar flames hovering along overhead. With the way a cool air had settled over the forest, Jimmy was grateful for the small warmth they provided. He shoved his fists into his pockets and drew his unbound wing close, curling it around himself to stave off the chill. Then he sighed.

“If I can get my hands on another healing potion, then I can just try again tomorrow.”

The campsite came into view and Tango made a temporary beeline toward the cave, dropping the dishes and cutlery at the entrance without bothering to go inside. He was back by the campfire soon enough, dragging another log over to keep it going. Jimmy huddled close to the fire at the blanket’s edge once more, soaking in whatever warmth he could before he’d inevitably ask if Tango had another blanket to spare.

He could wait. He’d rather be polite than needy.

“You mentioned brothers?” Tango asked, shifting a log with his bare hands, a sight that Jimmy was still getting used to. “So you’ve got family waiting for you when you’re done here, huh?”

“Brothers, yes. Waiting, no.” Jimmy drew his knees to his chest and folded his arms on top of them, his chin resting on his sleeves. “Sort of. They - I mean. Grian’s my older brother by blood. He’s an avian familiar like me, just a different breed. And we grew up with Martyn living right next door. A witch. The whole little community was magical in some way or another. Witches, familiars, magical hybrids, people with other abilities - that was home. I didn’t know there were people who grew up without magic until I was into my early teens at least.”

Tango had gone quiet, and when Jimmy flicked his eyes in the other man’s direction, he was listening to Jimmy with his full attention. There was a small smile on his face and his tail was flicking back and forth along the ground behind him.

“That sounds really nice,” he said, and Jimmy ducked his head with a sheepish smile of his own.

“Yeah…it was,” he agreed. For a while, anyway. But that wasn’t a story he brought up easily. He took a breath. “Anyway, I’ve been with this coven for about a year now. Grian, Martyn, another witch, and a friend of Grian’s who’s - well he’s not a witch. But he’s into science and studying magic.”

Tango let out a huffed little laugh.

“Heh, yeah…I know one o’ them. Got a friend like that.”

Jimmy’s cheek pressed into his shirt sleeve with his grin.

“Is he friendly, curious, a bit mad? Possibly a danger to himself?”

“Yup!” Tango snickered, shifting away from the fire to sprawl back on the blanket. He propped himself up on his side, grinning at Jimmy all the while. “Got it in one. Your science guy wouldn’t happen to be named Zedaph, would he?”

“Nah, not even close,” Jimmy returned. Tango sighed in mock disappointment. “I imagine they’d be fast friends if they met though.”

“Oh, for sure!” Tango flashed him a cheeky grin. “So what about this coven of yours?”

“Right! Right, yeah.” Jimmy shrugged. “My story sounds a bit like yours, actually. The keep we lived in met a bit of an explosive end. A healing crystal experiment gone very very wrong.”

“Oh nooo,” Tango groaned, looking apologetic. “That sucks man. Was everyone okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course!” Jimmy nodded against his arms. “Mostly alright. But - well I hadn’t exactly told Grian I’d been having trouble transforming, an’ then I got stuck under rubble and couldn’t get out because I couldn’t shrink down to get between the gaps in the stone, and…well.” He gestured to himself, then to the canopy overhead. “He and Martyn sent me off into the forest to fix the problem.”

“Oof, harsh.”

“More like necessary.”

“Maybe.” Tango’s smile stretched to a grin and he reached over to poke Jimmy’s shoulder. “Well hey, you met me, didn’t you?” he said brightly. “That’s gotta be an upside!”

Jimmy smirked.

“Yeah. Except the part where you broke my wing.”

Tango squawked, spluttering, his blaze rods swirling.

“Wh- hey! The ravager broke your wing!” he protested, affronted. “I’m the guy who tried to help fix it!”

Jimmy giggled against his arm, enjoying the faces Tango was making across the blanket. He was probably more animated than most people Jimmy had met. It suited him.

“You did,” he agreed. “I can’t remember if I ever said thank you for that. So…you know. Thank you.”

Tango’s indignant pout made way for another one of his bright smiles in an instant as he waved Jimmy’s words away.

“It’s nothing, really,” he shrugged it off. “I’m just glad I could help.”

Jimmy traced patterns against the blanket for a few quiet seconds, watching the way the fire reflected in the red of Tango’s eyes. He turned thoughtful. Whether it was his ravager or not, Tango really had helped him immensely in the long run. He could have left Jimmy there to fend for himself, but instead, he’d scrounged supplies together for a splint. He’d invited Jimmy back to his campsite for safety and given him a meal and treated him as a friend. He didn’t have to do all that, but he had…and he had expected nothing for it in return.

Maybe…maybe Jimmy ought to return the favor, even if it was in a small way. Maybe he could work past his hangups to give Tango the only thing he’d requested all night. He uncurled himself and turned to face Tango cross-legged, extending a hand to him.

“Would you like to learn a spell?”

Tango perked up immediately, his smile bright and eager as he scrambled to sit up the same way Jimmy was.

“Yeah,” he breathed, excitement in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, yes. Please.”

Jimmy didn’t bother trying to hide the pleased smile Tango’s reaction caused.

“Alright, well - we can start with something small and useful. Okay? A tiny healing spell.” Tango nodded readily. “Right. Okay. So - here, hold your hands out in front of you, palm up - sort of. Relax your fingers…” Jimmy reached out to trace along the back of Tango’s hands, guiding him so his fingers were curling ever-so-slightly upward, as if holding an invisible weight. “...yeah, like that. Exactly.” He shook out his own hands and rested them face-down on top of Tango’s, his middle fingertips pressed gently to the pulse point on each of Tango’s wrists.

Jimmy took a slow, shuddering breath. Gods. The last time he’d even done this with someone one-on-one was back with - Scott. With Scott. They usually did group spellcasting in the Southlands. And even when they didn’t, Grian was always willing to step in when Impulse or Martyn needed to cast a solo spell, so Jimmy hadn’t assisted a witch individually like this in almost a year. Not since the cottage. His jaw tensed and he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus.

This wasn’t Scott. It was Tango, and Tango was a new witch who needed his guidance…for as much guidance as a less powerful familiar like him could even offer, anyhow.

“What do I do now?” Tango asked in a hoarse stage whisper, and Jimmy nearly choked on a startled laugh.

“Sorry. Right, um–” Jimmy took a quick breath. “Okay. Most magic is just…intent. Feelings, sort of. Some more complex stuff requires sigils and runes and long incantations and certain - er - extra ingredients, I guess? Stuff that can help you channel certain kinds of magic. But minor healing like this doesn’t need anything extra. It’s like levitation an’ kinetic stuff, it’s more instinctual. So, um.”

He chewed his lip, trying to figure out how to explain. He’d never needed to put what spellcasting felt like into words before. Jimmy had grown up around mages that already knew what that felt like, or had been told by their parents. And then by the time he’d left Evo behind, he was old enough that most mages he met were just as trained as he was, if not moreso. This was entirely new territory for him.

But for Tango, he’d try his best.

“You said you felt your magic before, yeah?” he asked instead, his ear feathers flaring curiously, and Tango gave a stuttering sort of nod. “That warm spot right in the middle of your chest - that’s your magical core. That’s where your power comes from.” Tango nodded more decisively. “‘Kay. Do you think you can find it again?”

“Mmmmaybeee?” Tango hazarded slowly, squinting in thought. “I mean, if you do that glowy-mojo-thing you did before, I can probably figure it out again…?”

Okay. Good first step.

“We can try that,” Jimmy agreed. “But let’s start with our goal. Do you have - I dunno, a bruise? Papercut? Something like that?”

Tango shrugged.

“Not that I know of.” Then he shot Jimmy a cheeky grin. “What, I’m not advanced enough to try an’ fix up your wing, bird boy?”

Jimmy’s unbound wing twitched agitatedly at his back and he rolled his eyes.

“Absolutely not,” he said, the sharpness in his denial coming through as humorous. “Trust me, not even I would attempt that without a magebond.”

Tango snickered to himself.

“Eh, worth a shot.” Then he gave Jimmy a quick once-over, his grin softening to a hopeful smile. “Maybe something smaller? Did you get scuffed up anywhere else? I can fix that instead.”

Jimmy blinked, slightly surprised. He - he hadn’t even thought of using the spell on himself. He just wanted Tango to learn something that would keep him safer on his journey. Tango’s offer was-

It was sweet.

“I - guess?” he managed on a breath. “My, um. My hands got scrapped up on bark, when I was tackled. That would be easy enough.”

“Yeah, that!” Tango grinned. “Let’s do that.”

Oh, gosh - okay. Yeah, alright.

“Good. Great.” Jimmy cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Okay. I can start the spell, if you like, and I’ll let you try and follow along. And if you don’t get it the first time I can stop and we can try again. Alright?”

Tango nodded, schooling his expression.

“Totally. I got this.”

Jimmy just smiled. He closed his eyes, focussing inward and drawing on his magic, just as he normally did for any other spell. Curious, antsy, a little distractible but ultimately comfortable - it felt the same as ever. In a repeat of the last time they’d been sitting like this, Jimmy reached out with his magic, the energy of it buzzing just below his skin. He pushed it gently outward, seeking, reaching - and he wasn’t even a little surprised this time when he felt Tango’s magic dancing forward to meet him in the middle.

Across from him, Tango’s breath caught, and then he chuckled giddily.

“I feel that,” he breathed, his words all smiles, and Jimmy grinned to himself.

“Yeah?” He kept his energy steady, wanting to let Tango find his way on his own. “D’you think you can make your magic listen to you?”

“Listen - what, listen to me? What are you, Yoda? Use the force or whatever?”

Jimmy snorted, prying open one eye to see Tango’s face screwed up in close-eyed concentration.

“Basically.” He let his eye fall shut. “Your fire comes from the same place. Right? So - maybe think about what that feels like. Yeah? Try an’ reach for that. Just - without the fire, please.”

“No burnification. Got it.”

Jimmy bit back another laugh, his shoulders silently shaking. Gods, he’d never had to fight back giggles like this when casting a spell. This was ridiculous.

It was fun.

Something in the mingling mixture of their magic jolted, and Jimmy heard Tango let out a victorious little laugh.

“Hah! That! That was good, right?? I did - well I think I did something!”

“Yeah, you did!” Jimmy agreed. “D’you think you can maintain it? Like - hold that connection?”

“I think so, yeah–”

And he could. He could, and Jimmy could sense it, the way some of the eager chaos in Tango’s untamed magic lessened to a degree, became more focused. More sure. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and Tango definitely had a long way to go, but it was a start. Jimmy hadn’t expected him to pick it up so quickly, in truth. He had expected it to take longer to ease into the basics. But he seemed to be doing better than Jimmy had hoped…a natural talent, perhaps.

So Jimmy began to guide him, waiting to see how well Tango would follow. He wove his own magic in concentrated spirals around their joined hands, and Tango did his best to keep up. Small jolts and stutters interrupted his movements, uncertainty making his magic lose form a few times, but he was still following all the same. It was something. It was a start.

A numb, tingling chill danced across Jimmy’s palms where the scrapes and scratches sat, tickling at his skin and making him shiver. But it felt right, how a healing spell was meant to feel. It was slow, to be sure, but it was right.

“You’re doing amazing, Tango,” he grinned, peeking one eye open again to see the way Tango’s face reddened under the praise. His hair was aglow again the way it had been earlier, illuminated from within by something other than flames.

“I’m trying,” he muttered. He seemed too focused for many other words.

“Just a little more, then we can stop.”

Just a little more.

Just a little–

Tango’s magic leapt, excitable and unpracticed, and Jimmy heard him let out a frustrated snarl. He was quick to let his own energy flow forward to help, soothing sparking edges and coaxing him back on track. At this point, the cool healing tingle in his palms had crept up his wrists, up his arms, and it was only now that Jimmy was paying attention that he noticed just how far the spell had migrated. Either Tango was stronger than he knew, or he was pushing himself too hard.

“D’you think you can ease up a bit?” Jimmy asked, and Tango’s hands twitched against Jimmy’s.

“I - maybe?”

“Do you want me to help?”

“...yeah. Yeah, please. Sorry man, I’m not–”

“No worries! You’re new. ‘S okay.”

He did as he’d offered, taking a breath and doing his best to reign in the runaway magic. He’d done things like this before, to an extent, when cursed objects or magical artifacts went a bit haywire. It was a bit different when trying to do the same for a living mage.

Tango’s magic was wiley, unpredictable - but it wasn’t malicious. Where Jimmy reached out with his own magic to try and control the situation, Tango’s would rush up to meet him, curious and eager and excitable, just like its caster. It would move with him, trail after him, almost looking for attention the way Jimmy’s magic sometimes did when he hadn’t used it in a while. It was actually becoming a little difficult to differentiate between what was his own magic and what was Tango’s, the energies mixing and melding and blending and–

A burst of magical energy rushed through Jimmy quicker than he could contain it, sending him reeling, knocking the wind from him. It coursed through his veins and sparked behind his eyes and sent tingles to the ends of his limbs and a warmth through his chest, his back, his wings, aches soothing before he could remember they were there, soothing the bruise at the edge of his core that had been bothering him since–

What?

No.

No, this was - this couldn’t - they hadn’t even–

STOP.

Jimmy gasped sharply and yanked his hands away from Tango’s, scrambling back across the blanket and gulping down air like a man starved, his chest heaving and his pulse racing and his wings -

…his wings…healed. Healed. Tango had - unless he was crazy, unless…unless he wasn’t…

“Jimmy-?”

Jimmy tugged weakly at the bandages still wound around his chest, too tight, too tight now that he was struggling to breathe. And there was a burning feeling, burning but not painful, right in the center of his chest, like fire, like hearth, like familiarity, like home, like–

Hands were on him in an instant and the burn subsided as quickly as it had come, suddenly calmed like the eye of a storm.

“What’d I do?” a panicked voice was asking, pleading, almost desperate, right above him. “Shit, shit, I didn’t - Jimmy? Jimmy, are you okay?”

Jimmy dragged himself to some sense of awareness, trying to orient himself, becoming a little more aware of the glowing form above him. Tango’s panicking face swam into view and Jimmy latched onto that, trying to keep himself focussed on the red of his eyes, on the glow of his freckles, on - on something, on details, on–

“T-Tight,” he choked out, wheezing, tugging at the bandages again. “Help–”

“You want - Jimmy, wait, no, your wing, remember? You can’t–”

Jimmy let out a frustrated, wheezed chirp, digging his fingers into the material, tugging despite his current lack of coordination. Tango grabbed at his wrist to catch him before he could do much else.

“Woah, okay, okay! Hold on…”

Tango scrambled for something at his waist - the knife, Jimmy realized - and he took rapid care in digging the blade into the wrapped cotton, slicing through it without catching Jimmy’s clothes. The second he was free, Jimmy’s chest heaved, air rushing into his lungs more easily than before. His “broken” wing - still bound to itself, though no longer to his chest - wasn’t even the slightest bit bothered by the sudden movement, and he was beginning to suspect more and more that he and Tango had managed to do something extraordinary without even trying to.

More than one extraordinary thing, perhaps, though he wasn’t quite ready to focus on that yet.

For now, Jimmy curled forward and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars beneath his eyelids, and he breathed, and he forced his magic to settle. It proved to be a more difficult feat than he wished it was, magical energy still buzzing away just below the surface of his skin, refusing to quiet and refusing to calm. He was also acutely aware of the warm hand gripping his shoulder, the comfort of it grounding and distracting all at once.

“...better?” Tango asked, sounding nervous, and Jimmy nodded against his hands.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

There was quiet, awkward quiet, for a beat or two. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before, and Jimmy almost wanted to blame himself for it. He should have picked a different spell.

Tango cleared his throat and pulled away, leaving space between them that Jimmy could feel, and the moment Tango’s hand left his shoulder something inside him seized. That burn in his chest was back, all-encompassing, unignorable, distracting and alien and familiar and–

Jimmy reached out before he could stop himself, grabbing Tango’s wrist without needing to see it and letting out a shaking sigh of relief when his core settled again upon contact.

Shit.

Shit.

Void below, they were screwed.

“What was that?” Tango asked shakily, and Jimmy was finally able to focus on him properly.

Tango looked properly spooked, his face pale and his brows furrowed in confusion and his ears pinned back and his eyes wide. His other hand was clutching at his chest, and Jimmy couldn’t blame him, not if he’d felt the same thing Jimmy had, not when Tango was so new to all of this.

Jimmy swallowed past the lump in his throat, past the building panic that was welling in his lungs.

“That,” he said on a hoarse breath, “would be a fresh magebond.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If Jimmy had a choice, he’d be pacing right now. He wanted to keep moving, to work out the antsy anxiety in his veins, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because every time he let go of Tango, that feeling in his chest would come back tenfold and he couldn’t think straight. So instead, he was sitting in front of the fire again with his knees drawn to his chest and Tango behind him, one hand resting on Tango’s outstretched leg while warm, nimble fingers slowly unwrapped the bandages from Jimmy’s wing.

It had healed after all, it seemed. A task Jimmy had deemed “difficult” and “impossible”...and they’d managed to do it anyway.

And even more impossibly, they’d formed a magebond on top of it all.

“I’m sorry,” Tango had tried to say, as if any of the blame was his, but Jimmy had been quick to banish the thought.

“It’s not your fault,” he’d insisted. “You’re a novice. Even a trained witch couldn’t’ve done this by mistake.”

Tango hadn’t looked fully convinced, but Jimmy’s sincerity and quiet confidence in Tango’s blamelessness seemed to help diminish his fears well enough.

(Though Jimmy had half a mind to believe Tango’s gentle care in unwrapping his wing was meant to act as the apology Jimmy had refused to accept. Apology or not, he was grateful for Tango’s help.)

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Jimmy was saying now, trying to explain to Tango what had happened but finding himself somewhat unable. “Magebonds don’t form this way. There’s a ritual. It takes effort to find the right balance between two people’s magic for a more permanent connection to form, not - not just–”

“Silly magic fun times in the woods?”

Jimmy choked on a laugh, his wings fluffing up and his face flushing, and Tango snickered behind him.

“Yeah. Yes. Sure. That.” He took a breath, burying his face against his knees. “This isn’t how it’s meant to work. I’ve had bonds before. I took odd jobs for witches when I was younger, and those…”

They hadn’t been like this. They were purely for work, with a low level of magical compatibility and very little emotional investment. Forming those bonds hadn’t left much of an aftereffect, and when they broke at the end of their respective contracts, Jimmy had only ever needed a day or two for his core to get used to being untethered again. And then he’d taken the job with Scott, and - well. Scott was different.

“Who’s Scott?”

Jimmy jolted, his wing jerking in Tango’s hands, and he shot a wide-eyed look back over his shoulder at the startled-looking netherborn.

“What?”

“You said ‘Scott was different’,” Tango told him. “Who’s Scott?”

Oh. Had he? Gods. He had. He could feel it on his tongue. Jimmy dragged his eyes back around to stare unseeingly into the fire, chewing on his lip. He hadn’t so much as said Scott’s name more than a handful of times since leaving the cottage, not after that first month back with Grian and Martyn, anyhow. Saying it now felt hollow, slightly aching, just a little bit sore and a little bit familiar. He licked his lips, knowing Tango was awaiting an answer.

“Scott was, er…” He cleared his throat. “He was my last magebound witch. We - um. We were together. For a while.”

“Bad history?” Tango guessed, and when Jimmy managed a jerky nod, Tango hissed in sympathy. “Ouch. Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

Jimmy let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. For all that Tango had been kind to him tonight, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to broach that subject just yet. Especially not with a stranger.

A stranger who you’re now bound to, he reminded himself, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from reacting.

“Thanks,” he managed instead, “I’d rather not.”

“Totally.”

Jimmy rolled his shoulders and let his unencumbered wing stretch leisurely toward the fire, watching the way the light reflected off his not-quite-pristine feathers. Preening didn’t feel like quite as big of an issue now as it had that afternoon.

“...the bond felt different, is all,” he ended up carrying on in a murmur. “With…him. The ones I took on for jobs didn’t feel like much of anything, but with him we were, ah - a good match. Magically,” he quickly specified. “Compatible energy. So after our bond formed, we had a hard time staying separated for too long.”

“Like this?” Tango asked, curious. “Like what we’ve got goin’ on?”

“Yes.” A beat. “No. Sort of. It’s not–” Jimmy huffed.

He felt Tango pull the last of his bandages away so he stretched out his wings, letting the cramped muscles on the left one get a nice break before tucking them close again and turning on the spot to face Tango. They were closer than Jimmy had realized, the red freckles across Tango’s cheeks suddenly very noticeable with their proximity. Jimmy went a bit pink and inched backwards, doing his best to keep a point of casual contact all the while. Eventually, Tango reached out and grabbed his hand, holding on tight now that his own hands were no longer occupied by feathers and bandage wraps.

“Erm.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “Well. It’s stronger.”

“Stronger?” Tango asked, seemingly unbothered by how close they’d been for however briefly it lasted.

“Yes.” Jimmy tucked his legs under him, cross-legged, as he carried on. “It was only a bit of a pull, last time. Like I really wanted to be close, and my magic wanted to be close, but I could handle being away from him. This time, it’s–” Jimmy felt his face warm, his feathers puffing behind his shoulders and his hand tightening in Tango’s. “When we separate, it’s horribly distracting. Like the only thing that can help is getting my magical energy as close to yours as possible.”

Tango blinked at him.

“Is that not, uh…normal?”

“Not for me.” Jimmy dropped his eyes to their joined hands, his brow furrowed and his thoughts whirling. “We bonded by accident. It was too easy. We didn’t need a ritual, or an incantation, or a - a channeling artifact, or anything. And it’s so strong that I can’t let go of you without getting lightheaded. I’ve never–” He let out a twittering sigh. “I’ve only ever heard of this kind of thing in fairy tales. It’s ridiculous.”

“Fairy tales, huh?” Tango prodded, and when Jimmy dragged his worried eyes upward, Tango was grinning that cheeky grin of his. “So - what, does that make me your Prince Charming?” He waggled his eyebrows and Jimmy spluttered out a laugh, ducking away from Tango’s smile and shaking his head.

“Oh my gosh - Tango!” he stifled a giggle with his hand. “No, I meant - old mage fairy tales. Stories about that perfect match. The one person in the world whose magic was a twin to yours. You know, soulmates.”

Tango’s eyes went wide and wonder-filled, curiosity making his grin brighten and his ears perk up.

“Wait, soulmates?” he repeated. “Is that a real thing?”

“Well I don’t know!” Jimmy let out another little hysterical laugh. “They’re stories, aren’t they?” His giggling subsided but his smile still lingered, his eyes dropping to their joined hands again. Soulmates. He shook his head, trailing his thumb over the back of Tango’s hand absentmindedly. “...I used to hope soulmates were real,” he said after a moment. “A part of me still wants to. It sounds so nice, being able to find someone who can be your perfect magical balance. It’s hard to find a good bond match, let alone a great one.”

And yet, here’s you.

Jimmy felt eyes on him. When he looked up, Tango was watching him with a soft expression on his face, something undefined in his eyes that blinked away the moment Jimmy caught him watching. Tango sniffed and squeezed Jimmy’s hand, his tail flicking across the ground behind him.

“What do we do about this?” he asked, shaking their joined hands lightly. “Do you want to undo it?”

Something in Jimmy’s heart screamed NO! at the simple question, though he couldn’t quite fathom why. He barely knew Tango as it was. Outwardly he merely shook his head.

“We can’t yet,” he said softly. “It’s too fresh, and too strong. If we tried to break it so soon we’d both end up hurt.”

“Ah.” Tango winced. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, then raised their hands up to eye level. “Well how long d’you think we need to stick together like this?”

Oh, gods. And this was the part Jimmy hadn’t yet allowed himself to focus on. He smiled weakly.

“Constant contact? Overnight, I’d bet.” He scratched at his jaw awkwardly. “Sorry. Er - if it helps, it shouldn’t be as bad tomorrow?”

Tango let their hands fall with a cheerful sort of shrug, not a hint of irritation in sight.

“It’s all good,” he grinned. “I don’t exactly have anywhere I need to be tomorrow, do you?”

And - well. No. Jimmy really, really didn’t. He shook his head slowly.

“I’ve got a room at the inn back in town for the next week,” he said. “Not that I’m going back tonight at this point, mind you, but I’d planned to be out here a while.”

“Well that’s settled then!”

Tango clambered to his feet, still holding tight to Jimmy’s hand, and Jimmy let out a startled chirp as he was hauled bodily off the ground. Tango was stronger than he looked, a fact that was still settling in his thoughts as Tango tugged him intently toward the cave entrance.

“Uhhhh - what’s settled?” Jimmy asked, tucking his wings in close so they wouldn’t catch on a passing tree.

“You can stick around here for as long as you want to!” Tango declared, a grin in his words that Jimmy didn’t need to see to hear. “I’ve got plenty of blankets an’ food, and I can grab some more supplies from town in a few days–” He paused and shot Jimmy a sheepish smile. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Something beneath Jimmy’s ribcage fluttered at the offer, something warm and pleased and content.

“More than okay,” he nodded quickly. “That sounds amazing. You’re too nice, Tango, honestly–”

“Nah,” Tango waved him off, ducking just inside the cave and smirking toward the darkness. “It’s a fair trade-off for some pleasant company. Uh - here, hang on–”

There was a brush of something soft and warm against Jimmy’s wrist and he blinked, realizing belatedly what Tango was doing. The blazeborn’s tail had come up to coil comfortably around Jimmy’s wrist as a means to free his hands, the blond tuft of fluff at the end tickling against Jimmy’s skin. He huffed out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head at Tango’s silly ingenuity. Flickering flames illuminated the darkened space - flames fueled by Tango’s magic, which left Jimmy shivering at the familiar sensation of a spell through the bond - and when Tango turned around, a lantern in his hand, the light it cast caused Jimmy to stop short.

The cave was more expansive than Jimmy had first assumed. It wasn’t unending by any means, but the space inside was roomier than the small entrance would have implied. A cozy-looking cot piled high with blankets was pushed up against one wall, a large travel pack was dropped against another, and a small and slightly messy heap of clothing had been shoved toward the back of the cave. It was warm too, a lovely change from the chill of the evening air outside, and Jimmy’s wings relaxed against his back as the warmth seeped into his feathers.

“Welcome to Casa de la Tek!” Tango announced with exaggerated grandeur, grinning all the while. “It ain’t much but it’s home, for now. I was gonna move on in a few days now that the ravager kiddos are a bit stronger, but - hey, I don’t mind stickin’ around a little longer.”

“It’s cozy,” Jimmy said brightly. “How’d you find this place?”

“I’ve been around these woods before,” Tango said. He waved it off, beckoning Jimmy closer was a tug of his tail so he could fuss with the blankets on the cot. His blaze rods hovered nearby as though attempting to offer him some additional light to see by. “My old crew used to get jobs in the area all the time. I still do. There’s a larger cave about - oh, half a day’s walk to the north?” He gestured vaguely in that direction. “That’s my next stop, since it takes longer to get there when I’m herding the big fellas.”

“And what if there’s no caves nearby?”

Tango flashed Jimmy a grin.

“Well then I get to camp out under the stars.” He straightened, planting his hands on his hips. “Okay! I think I’ve got us sorted. Do you get cold easily?”

“Uh–” Jimmy blinked at the quick segue, then shook his head. “Not really. If I don’t have my wings out I can get chilly, but I like keeping them out. I’ll be alright with whatever blankets you don’t need.”

“With whatever - what?” Tango snorted. “No, I was gonna–” He jerked his thumb back at the cot with a sheepish grin. “I don’t mind cuddling if you don’t. We’ve gotta stay in contact anyway, right?”

Jimmy, who had mentally been planning on tying their wrists together between the cot and the floor for the night, gaped at the man who - until that afternoon - had been nothing but a stranger to him. Since that point, Tango had not only become more of a friend than Jimmy had anticipated, but had also been kind enough to be gentle when Jimmy had trusted him with his wing, provided a meal and safety without any prompting, and had forged a (surprisingly strong) magebond with him as well. All in one day.

And now he was offering to share his bed.

For all that Jimmy was a bit flustered at the prospect of sharing a bed with a perfect stranger, he also couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting. It would be warmer and more comfortable than the floor by far. And Tango had been a perfect gentleman the entire night. Hadn’t he?

He also wasn’t wrong. They did have to stay in constant contact, and Tango’s idea was an easy solution. Jimmy took a slow breath and made his decision.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his face feeling warm. “It’s your bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Tango smirked. “And I’m okay with sharing.”

Okay. Well. Alright then.

“I - yeah. Yes. I’m okay with that.”

“Awesome!”

As Tango had said, that settled that.

  It wasn’t nearly as awkward as Jimmy had suspected it would be either. There was a little jostling and maneuvering while they tried to accommodate Jimmy’s wings, but once they found a comfortable position, it all just sort of…clicked, and settled into place. Tango was sprawled on his back as close to the cave wall as he could get, his boots and vest abandoned on the floor, and Jimmy had done the same with his shoes and overshirt before getting comfortable on his side. One of his wings was trailing loosely off the bed, brushing the cool stone below, and the other had found its place draped over the both of them.

(Being a netherborn, apparently, meant Tango got cold easily, so he was grateful for the added warmth. No wonder there were so many blankets on the cot.)

At first, Jimmy had tried to keep as much of himself to his side of the bed as he could manage…but that hadn’t lasted long. It felt so natural to be curled close to Tango - a fact that he couldn’t be sure was related to the fresh bond or not - and soon enough their legs had become overlapped beneath the covers and Jimmy had a hand lingering over Tango’s heart.

Over his pulse, where Jimmy could feel it synchronizing with his own.

Magebonds this strong weren’t a thing to be taken lightly. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d have the strength to break it down the line.

(He couldn’t help wondering if he’d even want to anymore by then.)

“Hey, Jimmy?”

Tango’s whisper in the dark caught Jimmy’s ears and the feathers there flared. His eyes eased open to see Tango’s face turned toward his. They were so very close.

“Yeah?”

Tango grinned, a sleepy sort of thing.

“I’m kinda glad my ravager found you,” he said, quiet and teasing yet wholly genuine. “This magic stuff’s kinda nuts, but I’m glad you’re here anyway. It’s been a bit lonely the last few months. You’re–” Tango yawned, his eyes crinkling and warm barely-there sparks fizzling across his hair. The glow from the blaze rods hovering dimly above them rose and fell with a wave of gentle warmth. “...you’re…good people. Thanks for stickin’ around.”

Technically, Jimmy thought sleepily, he didn’t have much choice in the matter…but he knew what Tango meant. For some reason he had a feeling he would’ve lingered even if the bond hadn’t been forged. A sleepy warbling coo slipped past his lips and he sighed.

“I think I’m glad your ravager found me too.”

Tango’s grin widened, dopey and bright, and Jimmy let his eyes drift shut.

Like a fairy tale, his sleepy mind supplied. Soulmates, huh? Maybe he should ask Grian about that when he got home…whenever that ended up being.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As barely-awake awareness drew him to the land of the living, Tango crinkled his nose at having been woken up at all. He had never been a morning person, in truth. And for some reason he was even more disgruntled this morning in particular. The cot was colder than it had been during the night, and something in his chest was tugging at him to go - to go - do something. Go be…somewhere. Find something.

Tango grumbled and rolled over, burying his face in his pillows and letting his tail droop off the side of the bed.

He didn’t wanna do anything most mornings, so having some unnamed urge to do just that was…odd. It was strange. It was this curling, fuzzy little feeling in his chest, fluttering and almost feathery, right where Jimmy had said his core–

Jimmy. Jimmy!

Tango bolted upright at the sudden influx of memories from the day before and he scrambled to his feet - or he tried to. Instead, his legs became tangled in the mountain of blankets he’d been sleeping under and he ended up sprawling gracelessly and unceremoniously to the floor with a distinctly inhuman, strangled shout of alarm.

“...ouch.”

Well, good morning to you too, floor.

It didn’t do much to stop him, because it was only moments later that he was half-hopping to the cave’s entrance, fighting to get his boots on as he did so. He couldn’t see Jimmy. Tango squinted across the clearing, his ears flicking around to catch whatever sounds he could…but the massive golden wings that would’ve been so easy to spot were nowhere to be seen.

Weird. Jimmy had said he’d be sticking around, so why–

A twittering trill from overhead caught Tango’s eye, and he watched curiously as a tiny golden bird soared into the clearing, gracefully fluttering down to land on the blanket he and Jimmy hadn’t put away the night before. Tango eyed the little guy curiously for only a moment as it ruffled its feathers back into place. He was just about to look away to keep searching for his temporary camping buddy when a sudden golden glow began to emanate from the bird. The light grew, shifted, changed in shape - and between one blink and the next, the bird had been replaced by Jimmy, wings and all, with a windswept ruffle to his hair. He laughed brightly in the morning sunlight, a sort of immeasurable joy lighting up his face…and Tango couldn’t help but watch. He looked so happy, so free.

“I’ve had a bit of trouble with my familiar transformations lately,” Jimmy had said, only the night before. And yet…

“Well whaddaya know,” Tango murmured, leaning back against the cliff face beside the cave’s entrance with a soft smile. He watched Jimmy get to his feet and go over to the firewood, dragging some back to the pit and arranging it into the messiest campfire setup Tango had probably ever seen. He snorted. Oh, this guy was not a camper, was he? Tango cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. “Hey, Feathers!”

Jimmy jolted, his wings puffing up in alarm - which Tango was beginning to find endlessly endearing the more it happened - and he turned around, his expression brightening when his eyes fell on his magebound.

(That was the terminology, right? Magebound…? It sounded right.)

“Tango!” He greeted, waving slightly. “Morning! I was just–” He gestured to the fire pit, then the log pile, then the kettle sitting off to the side, then brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “...I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Tango laughed, bright and raspy.

“Need a hand?” he offered, his eyes crinkling with his smile, and the look of relief that swept over Jimmy at the offer was palpable.

“Please.” His smile grew lopsided. “Maybe you can teach me something this time.”

Tango’s smile brightened to a grin and that spot in his chest he was beginning to associate with Jimmy warmed ever-so-slightly. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. And if Jimmy was willing to stick around for even longer, then maybe Tango could learn a bit more about this whole magebond thing in return, before they broke it.

If they broke it.

As he crouched down beside Jimmy, straightening logs and branches and guiding him through building a proper fire, watching as Jimmy stuck his tongue out to focus, Tango quietly hoped that maybe they wouldn’t have to break it so soon. Or maybe, if Jimmy was willing, maybe they wouldn’t have to break it at all.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounded pretty nice to him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: I can't tell you how much fun I had bringing this story to life! Magic systems have always been a fascination of mine, and the one for this universe - hah. If anyone is curious I'd be willing to go into a deeper explanation about how magebonds work and what the witch/familiar dynamic normally is, but at this point it's more important to know that it's a stand-in for the Double Life soulbond with a more by-choice twist. This whole AU concept started with Ren and Martyn, believe it or not, and one day I'd like to tell their story too. But we'll see where it goes! I have a lot of scattered and intricate ideas for this universe, and I think I'll play it by ear to see where my inspiration takes me.

As for our ranchers, I feel like their first meeting would've felt out of character if it hadn't involved a bit of chaos and a bit of clumsiness lol. Where in canon Tango was the one to bring them together by losing them their first life, I thought it would only be fitting for him to be the reason he and Jimmy meet here too in some similarly accident-prone way…though I do feel a bit bad that it was Jimmy who got the brunt of it instead of Tango this time. 😋 It's okay! Everything turned out for the better anyway! Many MANY thanks to Hybbat, Lemon_bread, and Automaticnerdbread for being my lovely betas over the past few months (especially Hybs, you know how many times I've popped into your inbox for Rancher insight lmao) - y'all have been amazing!

Oh! We also had a pair of really cool character sheets from Fantasykiri that didn't really have a place in the fic proper, so I feel like I should share them here in the endnotes instead! Be sure the check out all the artists who contributed their skills and talents to this story, and thanks so much for reading! Comments and critiques (and spelling corrections asjkbas) are always accepted!]

[The artists: @fantasykiri5 [Trapped] [Jimmy] [Tango], @joifee [Feathers], @aviomons [Magic], and @setacin [Campire]

[aclowntiny]

hiii happy 700‼️‼️ you talented, talented writer. you’re just so engaging.. of course you’d gain this audience :p

anywhooo, can i request little scenarios of how the atz members show (what you think) their love languages to their s.o.

🥹🥹🥹 you're too sweet!!! That really means the world to me as someone who dreams of becoming a legit writer someday! Well I'm really glad you're a part of that audience 🥰

Ateez + Love Languages

Hongjoong- Words of Affirmation + Quality Time

♡ Hongjoong knows the feeling of doubting oneself, the journey toward confidence. How some days it feels complete, others are a total step back, but to him, people who love each other will always show their appreciation & support visibly, audibly. He tries to tell you you’re doing enough, but also motivate you to be your best with reminders of how well you’re doing, so you can keep going!

♡ Being so busy, Hongjoong is going to milk the crap out of time you get together. Plus, as someone who sees himself falling slowly for someone & forming an emotional connection, time at your side is how he’s going to feel bonded to you. It upsets him if someone interrupts or if you blow it off by spending it all on your phone or the like.

♡ Compliments your outfits of courseeee! He can tell when you’re either A. Totally rocking your style, thusly he must hype your awesomeness up or B. Feeling less confident if you’re going out of your comfort zone, thusly he shall reassure you that you look amazing in everything! He appreciates you challenging yourself so long as you’re doing it for yourself & feeling ok.

♡ Sometimes all he wants to do is just sit with you & look at you like a lil fool in love because he just can’t believe he gets to be with you 🥺

♡ “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won’t judge you. It’s hard to lean on others sometimes, but I want to be someone you can lean on, ok?”

♡ Invites you into his time, like bringing you on coffee breaks or asking you to reform clothes with him. You KNOW the piece you customize is going to become a favorite of his just because it’s had your hands on it & came from your beautiful mind! & how do you know? He tells you so himself 😌

♡ Writes the most poetic love messages on sticky notes & leaves them on your stuff like it isn’t going to short-circuit you before work. Especially since sometimes they can be a bit spicy 🫣

♡ Even at his busiest, he tries to meet you for coffee or lunch breaks, heart leaping at the way you always remind him to eat & drink to stay healthy. Midday breaks work well for your schedule & give him a break from hitting that ‘work wall’ classic of afternoons. You remind him to take care of himself & make his day with your mere presence. It gives him energy, perspective on why he does what he does.

Seonghwa- Acts of Service + Quality Time

♡ He’s naturally very caring & capable, so doing things to take care of you is second nature to Seonghwa. The domesticity also brings joy to his heart, just feeling like you’re living in harmony, swapping tasks like couples in later stages do. It helps him look to the future.

♡ But being together is enough for him, even if it’s doing something small like listening to music together or building a relaxing, simple lego set. Just having you at his side is enough for him, it doesn’t have to be elaborate.

♡ “Oh hey you’re back? While I was housesitting I reorganized your closet & deep cleaned! ☺️” “You what?” You gape. “I didn’t fold the laundry yet, maybe we could do it together?”

♡ ADORES pampering you! Loves doing little spa day type things & doing your hair, anything to feel close to you & help you vent & unwind after your day.

♡ Cooks 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 you 👏🏻 this man will learn how to make your favorite meal if he can so he can surprise you with it! Especially if you have a long day at work.

♡ Please let him talk to you about all the cool Star Wars facts he’s learned or about what he’s collecting, it’ll make him so happy & you get to see Seonghwa all lit up with that wonderful childlike smile of joy. He needs a partner who will listen & support the things he loves 😌

♡ Sick? This guy has you covered! You won’t have to move a muscle. He’ll make you soup, heat a water bottle for you, bring you medicine, put on your favorite comfort show or movie to watch, give you more blankets…shall I go on?

♡ 100 percent a stargazing date guy. Just you & him, bodies tangled & voices hushed in the breeze? SPACE??? Sign Seonghwa up! He’d fly you to the moon to spend time with you if he could!

Yunho- Acts of Service + Gifts

♡ Yunho loves doing little things for you, especially if it’s reaching things up high for someone shorter 😉 it’s like a good version of being devious, like he gets a special proud pleasure over sneakily surprising you with tasks you thought you’d have to do being done. Ha, take that, surprise love & care!

♡ In that same vein, Yunho loves your wide-eyed look when he whips out your favorite dessert or a new accessory or a cute collectible that’ll look perfect on your shelf, anything that made him think of you.

♡ He loves being able to teach you things, so secretly he’s always waiting for you to ask him ‘how’ questions. Seeing your approach to new information is refreshing & he loves feeling like you two are sharing knowledge.

♡ Your shoes are hurting your feet? BUYS YOU A NEW PAIR OF SHOES before the date can continue! He may straight-up carry you some too.

♡ This man will carry ANYTHING you might need in his bag. You take meds? He has some. Have long hair? He’s got hair ties. Need products like pads? A few are squirreled away where the guys won’t see, but you can always find them.

♡ Almost anything you get him, he walks around & shows everyone like it’s made of gold, even if it’s just flowers or chocolates, because you’re his Midas & everything you touch is gold 🥰

♡ Lets you steal pretty much all of his clothing tbh. Thinks it’s so cute to see you in it & can justify with almost anything why you need it more. You’re colder, he has more gloves than you do, you look really hot in it…

♡ Even starts buying things for himself in colors you like hoping you will soon be anticipating you stealing it hehe. Also gets more of the cologne you like the best so they smell how you like 🤭

Yeosang- Quality Time + Words of Affirmation

♡ Being introverted, it’s a big deal for Yeosang when time with another person can still be recharging, still feel like he’s taking some for himself, & with you he has that. You can be comfortable in silence together or just gently holding each other & it’s perfect. Your conversations are so fun, too, as random topics just fly into his head & you play off them so well!

♡ As much as people stereotype him as being sassy, he’s a very sweet & comforting person, too, so he’ll share with you the sweetest nothings! His innocent eyes find beauty in silly little things you don’t even appreciate or recognize about yourself.

♡ Yeosang loves cute activities like tea parties or picnics where you can sit & chat & enjoy scenery, food, & each other’s company! Just quiet time to be side by side away from the world.

♡ Leans in with a conspiratorial expression while you’re out, only to whisper in your ear that you’re beautiful.

♡ Has lowkey always dreamed of doing one of those DIY date nights in with the blanket fort, so that’s what he does one evening when you come over! He has it all built & lit up, but you guys prepare snacks & pick the movie before cozying up inside.

♡ Instead of telling you you’re going to be amazing at everything, Yeosang is the type to be a bit more realistic & remind you that even if it’s not perfect at first, you’ll only get better from there! There’s no such thing as failure, just learning experiences.

♡ Get ready for the most intense eye contact of your life. Yeosang can make you blush with the way he stares at you alone. He can hold so much weight of meaning with just one look.

♡ When you aren’t together, he makes sure to tell you it isn’t the same without you so you never doubt if he misses you or thinks of you when you’re not there.

San- Physical Touch + Words of Affirmation

♡ Cuddly boy 🥲 Sannie hugs you like his life depends on it but don’t worry he also gives the best most loving hugs ever fite me

♡ Confidence hasn’t always been his strong suit, so even if he gets taken aback by it, San really appreciates reminders that he’s doing well & how important he is. Just because he wishes to hear those things doesn’t mean it’s one-sided though, because he easily will say the sweetest encouragement to everyone he loves!

♡ One of his habits is running his thumb across your knuckles or the back of your hand when you’re next to each other 🥺

♡ Looks at any hobby or project you do with sparkling eyes of amazement, telling you how cool it is to have any given random skill! If you show him how he playfully calls you teacher.

♡ If you guys walk by a road, he’ll pull you to the inside so he’s the one walking closest to traffic. & if by chance his hand stays at your waist when you walk, oh darn 🤷🏻‍♀️

♡ Has deep conversations with you where you lay on your backs together, heads lightly touching as you look up at nothing, & discuss things like your place in the world & how you want to be remembered. After it’s all said & done, silence descending again, San tells you you make him feel important & your heart fills at his genuine tone.

♡ As if he can read your mind, he knows when you’re stressed out, & when you are he’ll rub up & down your arm or draw soothing circles on your back.

♡ Texts you good morning every single morning you’re apart & tells you he loves you so loving words are what you wake up to even if he isn’t there to share them 🥲

Mingi- Words of Affirmation + Physical Touch

♡ Mingi enjoys receiving compliments, so he naturally tries to give them too! He loves hyping you up especially if you get all cute & shy.

♡ We’re well aware this man LOVES holding hands! It’s his little habit & he loves the connected feeling of your intertwined fingers. If you hold on tight it makes Mingi feel so loved please do it!

♡ “wOW YOU LOOK SO GOOD BABE OH MY GOSHHHH!!!” “Mingi, that’s embarrassing!” “I don’t care, you’re hot! Woohoo!”

♡ Physically lifts you??? Expect to ride up on Mingi’s shoulders & get carried bridal/style when he feels like scooping you up, either out of mischief or to flirt 😘 it adds some ✨zest✨ to a kiss you know?

♡ The words of others are often put into context. “You know anything negative they say without cause reflects more on them than on you, right?” They may be simple reminders, but they really help.

♡ Gets excited like a big puppy & pulls you around to look at things 🥺 takes you by the hand or shoulder to guide you without thinking most of the time honestly.

♡ Mingi likes to feel needed, so he asks you if you need his help or want him to come with you to do things a lot. On the flip side, he always picks you on his team when he can & asks for your help too, telling you he can’t do whatever he’s doing without you! Calls you his good luck charm!

♡ Big spoon alert! Mingi holds you so tight against his chest like you’re what keeps his heart beating. Probably because you basically are & he’ll tell you that.

Wooyoung- Physical Touch + Gifts

♡ We all know Wooyoung loves to touch & be touched 🤭 it's definitely a way for him to show love & appreciation!

♡ He also absolutely ADORES feeling like he's spoiling you, it makes him feel so proud & seeing your smile at a surprise melts him like little else!

♡ “You got me the necklace I was looking at? But it was so expensive, I-” “Shhh,” smiling proudly, Wooyoung pats your cheek, “don’t worry about that. I wanted to. I already know what your next one will look like too~ That one will have my initials on it!”

♡ Man will have a hand on you CONSTANTLY!!! If you’re sitting next to each other his arm is around your shoulder or his hand is on your knee/thigh. When you walk, his arm is around your waist, linked with yours, or he’s reaching to grab your hand.

♡ Buys ridiculous corny couple items & expects you to actually wear them 😅 but he also gets you tastefully coordinated pieces to his so that makes up for it.

♡ *Puts his hands over your eyes* “Guess who?” POUTS if you get it wrong, but then gives you a hell of a kiss “to jog your memory” 👀

♡ Thinks it’s really dashing to surprise you with flowers, so he’ll pull a single red rose out of nowhere for you, smiling roguishly, or show up at your door with a bouquet in hand!

♡ Sneaks up behind you to tickle you or scoop you into his arms suddenly because he likes the noises of surprise you make & thinks it’s funny if you fight back. Tells you how cute you are no matter how you react.

Jongho- Acts of Service + Quality Time

♡ Being a practical person, Jongho likes finding concrete ways to make your life easier; in his mind, it shows how much he cares in a way that doesn't take up space & serves as a legitimate reminder that he firmly views relationships as partnerships. Neither of you two are truly alone in anything.

♡ In a similar vein, Jongho is a very active listener- when you're speaking, as much as possible his focus & consideration will be on you. When you're together, he sees that as time for bonding, even if you aren't doing anything too romantic or extravagant. The effort & comfort in each other's presence is the most important thing!

♡ You will never lift another heavy object in your life as long as Mr. Choi Jongho can help it. It’ll get scooped right up out of your arms like it’s nothing.

♡ He’ll lowkey smack anyone who tries to interrupt your time together/conversation hehe >:) like shut up, I’m not talking to you!!! I’m talking to my s/o 🤚🏼

♡ It’s not something often thought of as an act of service, but Jongho is really good at coming up with encouraging solutions when you’re stressed & making your problems seem that much smaller once you talk to him.

♡ Jongho really puts effort into going places or doing things you like, even if it’s not his thing. Being pretty tolerant & laid-back, he just rationalizes it as another chance to have time with you. Plus he gets to enjoy seeing you in your element!

♡ Wants to make all your goals reality. If you resolve to start working out more, he’ll go with you to the gym & keep it a habit. Maybe you want to study something? He’ll learn practice questions to ask you or hold your flash cards for you ☺️

♡ Though he’s not the most touchy-feely person, sometimes he likes to backhug you or just drape his arms over you while you sit to feel you & make his presence known, even if you two aren’t having an involved conversation. Most of the time he just stands at your side or behind you because he feels like just being in each other’s presence is reassuring & harmonious.

[nomorefstogive]

just some random idea I have on my mind. So both Shalom and Hecate are experiments of Paradeisos, they also have this Mania monster that are the emotions of that Sinner. So hear me out Chief and their like Mania creature thing? I remember scrolling through tumblr someone mentioned that Shalom said we are already a monster before they taken in us, like the person said what if in a literal way. Chief with their Mania form, their Mania form is strong because of the shackles connecting or supressing mania from Sinner, i headcanon they have a deep hatred on the Paradeisos. So yeah...(sorry 4 my bad English because it's not my first language)

🦀

Don't worry about the poor english you did very good, it's my first language and I have trouble with it at times too, so you are not alone my friend lol.

I would also like to preface this by apologizing if this reply is something of a mess, I am a little tired at the moment and trying to be concise and orderly with my thoughts and words is difficult for me on a good day lol.

As for the idea of the Chief being a Mania Monster similar to Nightmare or Rebel, it is an idea I have considered, my own theory is that the Chief has some type of bond or tie to the Perishing Star, given they were present during the Keylan Expedition and how easy it seems to be for the Illusory Moon and Mania to reach out to them during the Immortals events.

I feel that the chief is some kind of progeny or offspring of Mania, a sliver of humanity and hope given shape and form by Mania when it struck the earth and began to coalesce and seize power as it took dominion of the world from mankind, for either a long con or for other reasons thus far unknown.

Or perhaps it could be more apt to say that they were severed from Mania, with Mania as we know it reflecting the darkness and madness of the human psyche while the chief was to embody the opposite, being a beacon of control and order amidst the madness, something that humanity, so desperate for hope, would latch onto and nurture for the sake of its own survival.

The alternative to this is that the chief is something else entirely, some kind of entity that may have once been a part of Mania itself, or perhaps something else entirely, a wildcard left to roam free so as to grow and swell in might to be of better use come the time they are needed.

Apologies for the brief rant, I got off topic lol.

I agree with the chief having a deep resentment for Paradeisos, something that they themselves are likely unaware of the sheer depth of due to the interrupted rejuvenation leading to their memories being wiped before the story began...something which is oddly coincidental if you think about it.

I digress.

On the Subject of the Chief's power coming from them linking with the sinners and suppressing/controlling their mania, I agree that seems to be the case for their own growing strength.

That said, it makes me think that if their power is indeed growing with every Sinner they shackle, then the 'Rules' of Paradeisos are the only thing keeping the rising typhoon of manic power at bay, though one can only wonder how long such barriers will last.

If the Chief is indeed some form of Mania entity, something which is strongly hinted at in canon as well given some of the liens the Corpseborne and Parma say about the Chief, then it stands to reason that they could be either a defective corpseborn, as some seem to believe, or perhaps they are the final product of the process.

A being that is indistinguishable from a human and yet endowed with great and terrible power that grows more and more as mania spreads, as if their power is indeed growing with each sinner that is shackled and every corpus they consume, then one has to try and picture just what kind of monster the Chief will be when they are returned to full power and the 'Rules' fail.

I feel that when such a thing occurs, and it will occur, the Chief's old persona will resurface in full and Dis will be granted audience with a Vassal of Mania whose power exceeds any and all things they have witnessed before as Mania calls its Shepherd to its side once more to settle old scores with Paradeisos and the Underground alike.

Again, I apologize for going off course and starting to ramble, it tends to happen more often than not lol.

I feel that is all I have for this at the moment so I will leave this here, stay safe and take care.

[yuzurujenn]

[2025.03.11] Deep Edge Plus - Interview with Yuzuru Hanyu 14 years after the disaster

"I want to continue to be a catalyst to ensure that the disaster is not forgotten" - Bonds, connections, and relationships... "A form of support that will continue forever" that he discovered during a visit to the disaster-stricken area of Noto - The experience of 3/11 "made him think deeply about life"

Yuzuru Hanyu (30), a two-time Olympic champion in men's figure skating, sat down for an interview with Kyodo News in his hometown of Sendai ahead of the 14th anniversary of the Great East Japan Earthquake on March 11. Reflecting on the time he experienced the disaster while training at a rink in Sendai, he spoke with determination: "Because I am someone who brings people together, I want to continue being a catalyst for support activities while valuing the power of each individual even more."

The earthquake, which he has faced for half his life, is "an event that changed him"

--It's been 14 years since the disaster. What are your honest thoughts now? 　"I feel like so much time has passed, but I can still remember the scenes from back then, the emotions I felt, and the fear as if it were yesterday. Both coexist."

— At 30 years old, you've spent half your life facing the aftermath of the disaster. "I feel that I’ve done what I could. That applies not only to how I’ve approached my skating career but also to how I’ve faced the disaster and other calamities beyond 3/11. Over these 14 years, I believe I’ve continuously done everything I could."

— In the past, you mentioned that facing the disaster was 'one of the missions of your skating career.' How has 3/11 been a starting point for you and a driving force in your journey? "It’s difficult to simply say that what happened became my motivation. It would have been better if it had never happened—there’s no doubt about that. I truly wish it hadn’t. But since it did happen, and I’ve moved forward from that day 14 years ago, I think that experience made me reflect more deeply on the value of life. Because I encountered so much sorrow, I developed a stronger desire to stand beside those who are grieving. I can't easily call it a driving force, but it was an incident that changed me."

— As both a competitor and a professional, you've never compromised in your performances. Do you feel a responsibility to always give your best because you've continued to face the disaster?

"It's nothing too grand, but since people have high expectations of me, I want to live up to them and exceed their expectations. It's like a sense of pride as a professional, a sense of pride in my skating, it's something that comes naturally," he said. "However, I'm not exaggerating when I say that for each and every performance, there are surely people for whom this performance was their last in their lifetime. There could be illness, a sudden disaster, an accident, financial problems, opportunities. There are so many possible factors. But if there are people for whom this performance, this performance of Yuzuru Hanyu, will be the last they see live, then I believe it would be insincere not to give everything I have in that moment."

Continuing to Explore Ways to Support Reconstruction: "The Cooperation of Those Who Support Me Is the Most Important"

-- During your solo tour and the ice show "notte stellata" until the 9th, you addressed the audience with the words "the preciousness of life." Is this a theme that you want to continue to focus on as part of your mission as a skater? 　"Well, rather than saying it’s something I’m particularly fixated on, I think it's more about the fact that, fundamentally, I am that kind of person, so it naturally becomes a theme in my expression. If you asked me what it was like before 14 years ago, I’d say that, of course, I had thought a lot about life, but I didn’t think about birth and death this deeply, or maybe I didn’t feel the need to think about them that much."

　"The fact is, because of the earthquake, I started to tie my expression more closely to my skating and its meaning, connecting it more with things like support and assistance. How should I put this? It’s not necessarily about being fixated on something, but more about it being rooted in me. Yeah, I think it's that fundamental. I continue to want to think about life, and the earthquake definitely shaped this thinking and the kind of person I became."

　--You have talked about your ongoing search for how to offer support. Could you share your thoughts on how you now approach the idea of support?

"This year's 'notte stellata'  (held in Miyagi Prefecture from the 7th to the 9th) was not just about wanting to convey something through my performance. There were also local vendors, like those from the Wajima morning market, who set up booths at the venue. The people who came to see me perform, the ones who came to the ice show, ended up buying from these vendors. That, I thought, was the most meaningful form of support I could offer."

"Of course, I will continue doing donations and supporting causes, but I realized that, in the end, a temporary event where I create a fund or ask for donations isn’t sustainable. Even if it becomes news for a moment, people often think, 'I can't do that, but they’re doing it, so it’s fine.' That’s something I realized. What I’ve come to understand is that the best way to continue supporting is through the cooperation of the people who support me."

"That ties in with something I’ve said all along—that I want to be a catalyst. By facing the earthquake and thinking about it, or by holding events as part of my support activities, I was able to bring people to Sendai. This time, people bought goods from Wajima, and I realized that this kind of support, where I help bring people together, is the most sustainable way to keep expanding the support network."

--Is this something you’ve come to realize this year?

"When I spoke with the people from the Wajima morning market, they said they were happy that people bought their products. They also expressed that they felt the strength of support from everyone. Honestly, I was just the catalyst for that, but it made me realize that this is the form of support that will continue. At the same time, it made me realize once again how many people I should be grateful to."

I went to Wajima last June. "Interactions between people are powerful."

--Hanyu has made large donations, including royalties from your books.

"However, when it comes to royalties or donations, I feel like the act of donating can be done in a single moment, but the feelings behind it don't tend to last. I’ve realized that it’s hard for the sentiment to continue in the long term. That’s why, in situations like this, where I am the catalyst and people are able to broaden their perspectives because of me, I’m really grateful for the cooperation I’ve received. At the same time, it made me want to keep encouraging others to get involved."

--It’s not just about Hanyu's personal efforts; you’ve found a form of support by expanding the circle.

"I think it’s one form of support. But it only has meaning if the people who came actually cooperate. It’s because so many people came that it’s truly becoming a catalyst. First and foremost, I have a really strong sense of gratitude toward those people. Plus, I want to continue responding to their expectations, so that they will want to go see my ice shows in the future and that I can continue to function as a real catalyst."

--When did you visit Wajima City in Ishikawa Prefecture?

"Last June."

--The vendors at the market were people you met at that time?

"Yes, they were people I had interacted with. But I also heard in the news that the morning market stopped functioning, so they’ve been holding something like a traveling morning market at other stores. When I talked to them, they mentioned that they really want to hold it at the original location. But as the circle of interactions grows, just like with the 3/11 disaster, human connection becomes a real source of strength, especially in tough times. I’d be happy if this could offer even a little bit of support. I know it’s a lot of effort for people to come, but I’d be really glad if this kind of activity could serve as a catalyst for continuing efforts like this."

"I want to keep the memory of the disaster from fading," he said, using his fame to his advantage. "The hardships remain, so I want to keep spreading the word."

--What was impressive was when you said you wanted to use your high level of recognition in a positive way during the Noto reconstruction ice show. You want to continue facing various issues as a symbol for recovery from the disaster and other crises.

"Yes, I think I’m really a unique person. I’m an athlete who has been reported on to some extent while actively working in the disaster-stricken areas. And among the people who have been watching and supporting me, there are many who have seen the efforts of the victims and those from the affected areas. I truly think that’s a very unique situation. And the fact that so many people continue to support me in real time is, once again, something extremely special. So, since I’m fortunate enough to have so much manpower gathered around me, I want to continue cherishing the power of each individual, not focusing on numbers, but respecting and valuing the strength that each person holds. I want to continue being a catalyst for support and a reason for people to not forget."

--You previously said that you were encouraged more than anyone by the words "do your best." In return, you said last year that you want to continue supporting others. Do you still hold onto that feeling?

"Yes, it’s been 14 years since 3/11, but there are still people who haven’t been able to go home, there are houses and land that remain the same as they were back then, and there are still many unresolved issues—not just with the nuclear plant but also in other regions. There are definitely still scars, not just on the land but also in people's hearts. I really want to continue standing by them. That’s how I feel right now."

"It's difficult, but to be honest, there are people who don't want to remember it, and there are also people who say that everything is fine now. If we were to focus only on 3/11, there are still disasters in other areas, and there are still many places where they are occurring in clusters, and the Ofunato forest fire was only just put out recently, so it's difficult to express the situation in one word, but there are still many painful things remaining regarding 3/11, so I want to continue to convey that, and I want people to keep it in their hearts. "

--Last year, you mentioned that you poured all your feelings about 3/11 into the "notte stellata" ice show. Do you want to continue doing this in the coming years?

"I can't say for sure because I’m not the organizer, so it’s difficult. But to put it another way, I have a strong desire to keep my thoughts about 3/11 and my support activities strong at heart and continue them forever."

First visit to disaster-stricken areas since the Sochi Olympics: "It's important to continue to stand by each other"

--The first time you visited a disaster-stricken area was after the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics, where you won your first gold medal. 　"Yes."

　--You went to Ishinomaki City, Miyagi Prefecture. At the time, you were hesitant to go. Has anything changed since then?

"There are things that haven't changed. Honestly, I still feel the same way about whether it's okay for an outsider to step in and interfere. When it comes to the painful reality of a situation, if someone who isn't suffering steps in, I feel like if they pointed at me and said, 'You're not really empathizing, are you?' I wouldn’t be able to say anything in response. That feeling hasn’t changed since then. Perhaps it’s something that’s stayed with me since the press conference before the Sochi Olympics. But what has changed since then is that I can now proudly say that the results I achieved, like winning two Olympic gold medals, along with the programs I’ve performed and the various activities I’ve done, have become a catalyst for those people to smile."

― What thoughts come to mind when you visit the disaster-stricken areas?

"It's a difficult question, really. This might be somewhat related to what I was talking about earlier, about wanting to expand the circle of support, but even if one person moves debris, there are still limits to what can be done. However, what I really felt during the 3/11 disaster was just how much faster the recovery process became because of the bonds formed by so many people. I truly felt that back then. Those connections originally began with people who came to help after the 1995 Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake, when people from Miyagi Prefecture went to volunteer. And now, people from Kansai, who came as a way to pay back that kindness, and many others from different countries, have joined in, and that support has kept expanding and growing into more and more connections, turning into an ongoing legacy of bonds. I witnessed all of that."

"In fact, with the current situation in Noto, there are many people who have volunteered because they wanted to go there after receiving the care we received, and I vaguely think that if we could cherish not just one person, but the connections between each individual, and if we could all move forward together, the world would definitely become a better place. I don't just mean disaster-stricken areas, I think it applies to a lot of things, like companies, probably human relationships, and I think it's probably true of the world situation as well. I think that if we cherish the hearts and connections of each individual, and not just family, but all kinds of connections, and cherish and support each other, the world would become a much better place. That's why I feel that ultimately, the most important thing is for people to connect with each other and be able to empathize with each other, and that it's really important that this continues."

"I was planning my strategy one year before the Winter Olympics" "Once you become a professional, it's a given"

― Changing the topic, after completing your third year as a professional, have you felt any evolution in yourself?

"Every performance, every single time, I’ve been learning different things, facing new challenges, and feeling growth. So it's hard to pinpoint one specific thing and say, 'This is it.' However, this time, the opportunity to collaborate with someone as significant as Mr. Mansai Nomura really allowed me to feel that I’ve stepped onto the stage of professional expression. I feel like I’ve started to stand on that platform, even if just a little."

― You already seem to have a sense of standing on the stage with the stature of a Yokozuna, but you still feel there’s more to refine within yourself.

"Yes, definitely. When you experience the presence and stature of someone like Mr. Mansai Nomura, being right there in front of him, you truly feel that. And in that moment, I realized, ‘I’m still young.’ I still have a long way to go. Of course, in the case of SEIMEI, I believe that youthfulness allowed me to express certain things, but I also felt that there are so many things I still need to learn, evolve in, and understand."

― Would you say he dominates the atmosphere?

"Well, Mr. Nomura’s very presence itself, just him standing there, expands the space, the world around him. I think that’s how it feels. If you asked whether a figure skater can achieve that, maybe not, because that’s not what we’re about. But in the world of expression, there is something like that. And in order to reach that, I need to absorb and learn from it, constantly improving and making it my own. That’s something I truly feel."

― Finally, the Milan-Cortina Olympics is less than a year away. You've experienced the year leading up to the Olympics three times — in Sochi, Pyeongchang, and Beijing, each time in a different role. Looking back, what do you think is the importance of the year before the Olympics?

"One year before the Olympics. I was just making a strategy. I thought a lot about how to peak for the Olympics, how to deepen my thoughts for the Olympics, how to schedule to improve my skills, and so on. But now that I'm away from the Olympics, I feel like I'm doing it every year, or rather, every week, and now that I'm in a world where that's the norm once you become a professional, I feel like I've finally reached the point where I can stand on the same stage as Mansai. Until now, it was fine to just do it over a four-year span, but now I really have to do it every performance, and I have to grow every week, so I think that's what I'm thinking now, looking back."

Source: https://digital.kyodonews.jp/deepedge/feature/hanyu-yuzuru-interview-14yrs-since311/

[silent-sanctum]

The Part 3 Dilemma

I have one of this random thoughts of mine and it's about one of the complaints about Stardust Crusaders

"I dropped at Part 3 because the plot dragged too long" "The Monster-of-the week trope made it boring"

Personally, I don't mind it (thanks to Jotaro's presence tbh). But I do understand why others feel that way. I feel like the reason Araki decided to stick with that set-up is because for one, it's a shonen series (a.k.a a manga who's targeted for young boys), and two that it's because it's his way of experimenting with a new power system.

So, you can't really blame a guy who wanted to test things out in the beginning rather than to focus on writing a more engaging story, more so when him knowing that the introduction of Stands and their powers was able to bring him the most commercial success.

But from a writer's perspective and someone who watches a lot of shows, I think what made SC such a sludge to get through is this part's lack of subplots.

What do I mean by that? Let me explain:

"A subplot is a narrative thread that is woven through the media to support the elements of the main plot. A subplot can build out the conflict in the main plot or it can be a vehicle for a secondary character's storyline."

Essentially, it's a method of fleshing out the story more by introducing the audience a side story to either tackle a theme that's related to the main plot or develop a character more to better understand their purpose in the story.

Now let's look at Part 3

The central point of this part is that a big bad has returned to wreak havoc on the Joestars and the world and it's the heroes' job is to get rid of him once and for all. It's odyssey-based where we get to see the guys go on this journey and fight the bad guys until they reach the final stage.

But because this part involves just that- the fighting bad guys part- for 40+ episodes, it bores the audience because of how repetitive it's becoming. There's nothing else it has going on for it to keep the audience engaged.

There's a significant lack of subplots to enhance their journey to Egypt.

Compare that to the other parts…

Part 4: A slice-of-life/murder mystery plot that focuses on the stories of its residents (e.g. Koichi's development, Okuyasu's family issues, Yukako's obssesion, Rohan's antics as a mangaka, Josuke's bond with Joseph), before tying them into the main plot in the second half (e.g. Reimi's murder, the involvement of the Stand arrow, focus on Kira's mind as a psychopathic serial killer) Part 5: Got to look into the past of each of Bucciarati's crew: Giorno and Bucciarati's childhood, Mista's pre-Stand user life, Abbachio's past as a cop, Diavolo and Trish's dynamic, Fugo's history with his anger issues. There's also the involvement of the Stand arrow, brief focus on La Squadra's perspective, etc. Part 6: Explores the characters of Ermes (seeking justice for the death of her sister), FF (their path of finding their identity), delving deep into DIO's psyche about "attaining heaven", Weather Report's history with Pucci and Perla, and the estranged bond between Jolyne and Jotaro.

This is Araki improving his craft but when we compare that to Part 3, we can see that P3 only got the "fighting enemies until we reach the boss" plot going on. And that's tedious to get past.

Sure we got one subplot going: Polnareff's quest of avenging the death of his sister.

His purpose of joining the Crusaders in the first place was to find the killer. It's been tackled for more than one episode and in the process, we see him form rapport with the allies he made while still sticking to his mission, allowing the audience to connect to the Frenchman more (even to the point where they start to joke that he's the main protagonist instead of Jotaro)

But what of the rest? What of the development of the other Crusaders?

Kakyoin and his past as a lonely child born with a Stand?

How Avdol met Joseph, and what his motivation was to continue working with the latter?

Maybe a subtle foreshadowing of Joseph's infidelity or how he's doing in New York prior to the quest?

Heck maybe even a background as to why Jotaro turned to delinquency when in the past, he's seen or viewed as a regular happy child who does well and is active in school?

Instead, what we got is Kak's past revealed as a last minute attempt to make us feel sympathy for him as he's dying, Avdol died without much going about him, Joseph is just there to be the secondary Jojo, and 3taro is most of the fandom's worst version of Jotaro because at a surface level, he's seen only as a rude standoffish teenager who does not emote for no reason.

We don't get to connect with the Crusaders as much or as deep because we don't know them outside of "we're here to defeat the big evil" and a bunch of fighting.

tldr: Not enough character development because there's too much of the "beat the bad guys and win"

I don't know. It's just my personal take because usually when I consume media, I tend to get hooked onto the story when there's mini stories that fleshes out the overarching theme.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[bulkyphrase]

Cap-IM Rec Week - Fluffy Friday

Day 5 of @cap-ironman's rec week event!

Please enjoy some nice stories where nice things happen - many are also very funny!

Work of Art by veryvincible (@veryvincible) (616 | Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 5,656 words)

Summary: Tony smelled… off. Wrong. He smelled strange in a way that would justify the cold, Steve thought. There was a metallic layer to blood that Steve was used to smelling, and in Tony, that was distinctly not present. So, Steve concluded, Tony must have had an iron deficiency. Something to that effect, at least. He became faint without warning, he was chilly as the dead, and he was as pale as any man Steve had ever seen. - Tony Stark is a vampire. It's common knowledge, at this point. Somehow, Steve isn't aware of that little fact.

Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist) (616 | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 7,866 words)

Summary: Steve gets hurt, and the team bands together to make him feel better. Set in the early classic days of 616 canon, not long after Steve joined the Avengers; written for Project Happy Steve.

Machines and Marvels by rainbowninja167 (@rainbowtitania) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 23,443 words)

Summary: "The only future in which you have a hope of defeating Thanos is one where the Avengers remain whole and undivided. Do you understand? No matter what else happens, it’s imperative that the Avengers stay together." “Wait. What the fuck are the Avengers?” Or: In an alternate timeline where the Avengers never formed, Steve and Tony need a crash course in team bonding. Stephen Strange just had to take that literally.

More below the cut!

On the Wing by FestiveFerret (@festiveferrets) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1,572 words)

Summary: "You have a seagull on your head."

inside man by Mizzy (@mizzy2k) (616 | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1,085 words)

Summary: Steve realizes that Iron Man is a great source of inside-knowledge for his first date with Tony Stark! Also available as a podfic read by Cathalinareads (@cathalinaheart)

Get Some Now by Sineala (@sineala) (616 | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 10,376 words)

Summary: Avengers Mansion has a mysterious feline infestation. Meanwhile, Steve just can't figure out how to ask Tony out on a date. And the thirteen teleporting cats sure aren't helping matters any. Also available as a podfic read by where_thewind_blows (@flowersthroughthecracks)

no matchmaking before breakfast by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (MCU | Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 3,435 words)

Summary: “I don’t even find Steve attractive,” Natasha says, eyes following greedily every drop of coffee the machine pours, for once in her life genuinely unaware of the impact her words are about to cause.

More Than Skin Deep by Sineala (@sineala) (616 | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 3,521 words)

Summary: Tony can just about accept the fact that he and Steve were kidnapped and replaced by Skrulls for three months. But what he can't figure out is why none of the Avengers noticed. And what he really can't figure out is why none of their teammates will tell them what the Skrulls did while they were gone. Also available as a podfic read by AudioSilks (WhenasInSilks) (@whenas-in-silks)

The God of Solid Life Advice by kehinki (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1,583 words)

Summary: It's 2012. Steve is just informed by Loki that Bucky's alive. Loki also tells him some other things.

Gift With Purchase by sabrecmc (@sabrecmc) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 5,599 words)

Summary: “Just…” and Tony could practically hear Pepper attempting to rub the tension out of her temples. “Just so we are clear,” Pepper began, trying to sound business-like, as if this were just any other phone call about stocks or production or whatever it was Pepper was usually blathering on about, “At the gala event for the Wounded Warriors Foundation, of which Stark Industries is a major donor, you met one Steven G. Rogers, Captain, U.S. Army Special Forces, one of the most decorated soldiers in all the armed forces, one of the handful of living Medal of Honor recipients, the man People Magazine dubbed “Captain America” in their front page story about his battlefield heroics that saved multiple lives, which went on to detail how his spare time is devoted to, and I’m quoting here, “providing art therapy to troubled and disadvantaged youth from the Brooklyn, New York area where Capt. Rogers grew up,” and you mistook him for a high-priced hooker and then proceeded to proposition him.” Tony paused, breathing in deeply. “Well, when you say it like that, it just sounds bad.”

[dmagedgoods]

15 and 18 for all your boys~

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first? Rowley: Rowley doesn’t speak in lofty and sophisticated terms or only ironically, but he is witty, expressive, and creative - with his vocabulary too -, and has a very dark sense of humor. Usually, he finds the right words fast and without thinking about them much, and with the right words I mean the most terrible thing to say in any situation he’s in. People’s reactions to it are highly endearing to him. It amuses him and he shamelessly provokes. He may have saved someone’s life a second before, but you can be sure he’ll make them forget about it right away by offending them in unexpected ways or by painting himself in the most horrible light and even worse than he actually is. Usually, he doesn’t show emotions when he speaks. It’s mocking or teasing or factual or just some idle chatting. With him, it needs a certain level of friendship or other forms of closeness (like romantic relationships) to reach a point where he starts to let you see his feelings with words and in general. Once it happens, his way of talking becomes softer, even a touch warmer, and he provides insights that make you realize he listens and observes much more closely than one might suspect. He uses profanity a lot. Sometimes with a hint of irony to it, sometimes to insult or provoke, sometimes just a few swear words on the way when something goes wrong or casually interwoven in his speech patterns. He will make up new things on the spot, never-heard combinations and unique creations, funny in his better moments, utter nonsense in his worst.

~ Eneas: Eneas is eloquent and well-spoken; in most cases, he shows sophisticated, polished manners and his choice of vocabulary reflects it. Words are his strongest weapon aside from his magic, he uses them to charm and to captivate, to draw in and paint pictures. Furthermore, he loves to spontaneously recite poems or to quote from famous literature. He is a musician but also a storyteller and lives to entertain and to use words with utmost effect and accompanied by a dramatic flair. He rarely shows his true feelings, still his way of talking or telling little tales never lacks the needed emotion. His words often have a theatric element. While he most often has a clear direction in mind and plans his roles and performances and even his words to a degree, he only truly rehearses when it’s of utmost importance (or an actual stage play ahead of him). As long as he moves within the idea of what he’s representing at the given moment, he is capable of improvising the details. He can make his words simple but he rarely wants to. Speaking has the potential to become a form of art in itself after all. Usually, he still makes sure his sentences aren’t too complicated or confusing, he wants his audience to follow him after all, but it happens that his structures serve to hide a second meaning or a well-placed little lie. In other cases, he just enjoys some theatrics, the drama of his own statements, or obscures in the name of storytelling. Eneas almost never uses profanity and if so with a touch of irony to it. He doesn’t mind profanity used by others (or at least rarely does), but he himself refrains from all too rude expressions in most cases. Of course, when he plays certain roles, profanity might be part of it. Usually, though, he much prefers to insult in more subtle ways coming with a sharper sting. ~ Salvadore: Salvadore is very eloquent with strong rhetoric skills, educated, trained in diplomacy, and even studied speech patterns since he has a natural interest in and talent for words. He loves to talk to people, to convince them of his views, or to hold impactful speeches in front of an audience. While strongly passionate about his goals and for those he cares for, Salvadore rarely gives away many emotions in front of people. It needs a deep bond with someone for him to show his warmer and even surprisingly playful side or his possessive tendencies. (All of this even publicly to a degree with someone he loves romantically.) He makes his sentence structure only as complex as needed to convey an idea. After all, he wants to reach people with his words not to confuse them. His choice of words is sophisticated but he speaks clearly and not in obscuring, long-winded, or highly scientific terms. Sometimes he utters very short and strict orders or shuts something down with a well-aimed remark. Salvadore rehearses his speeches and prepares his arguments for important meetings and consultations or discussions, he likes to be prepared, but he also leaves room for spontaneous reactions. It’s more the whole plan for how things are supposed to go which he studies ahead (and sometimes intensely so) than every word he intends to use. He can easily improvise in his fields of expertise, and his confidence and eloquence usually help him when he’s out of his element. There may be audiences where stronger words are needed and he doesn’t mind going there, but in his usual speech patterns, he mostly refrains from profanity. If he uses it, then the rough, harsh sort. In sexual contexts and roleplays, he enjoys profanity here and there – though it depends on the words in question. If he means to insult, he will hit the mark in different and deeper ways (humiliating his target in eloquent manners) than by making up creative swear words.

~ Cian: Despite his affinity for bringing himself into the spotlight here and there and to present a small performance, Cian slightly prefers using the written word over using the spoken word. He has more control over ink on paper and time to think through any deep aspect of it before presenting it to an audience. He is not too fond of improvising completely freely and in important moments, he rather overprepares his words or repeats them in his mind before saying them out loud to make sure they’ll have the planned effect. Speaking is immediate and correcting mistakes or wrong impressions almost impossible once they are made. Still, he knows how to sell what he wants to make people believe in most cases, is a smooth talker, and quite eloquent, especially in his areas of interest and if he had time to prepare. He hates being caught not knowing something he is supposed to know (in his opinion or even worse: in the opinion of those around him) and struggles to keep his superior demeanor when embarrassed in this way. As soon as he's relaxed and actually feels confident instead of playing it, he will show a witty and teasing side that comes naturally and he doesn't need to rehearse. Cian tries to appear controlled and either charming or distant while speaking without giving away many emotions. This works well for him unless he is in a state where his feelings overwhelm him too much, then it becomes impossible for him to hide them. His sentence structure shows that he’s sophisticated and educated but he speaks clearly and not overly confusing. Nonetheless,  his way of talking has something slightly theatrical sometimes. He uses profanity here and there, mostly when relaxed and comfortable. – Rarely ever to insult, he has more effective means for that, but just to express strong approval or disapproval, for example. 18. What embarrasses them? This one is here. 💕

[literatureloverx]

Greetings, dear audience,

As I reflect on the intriguing details of my observations, I invite you to explore this analysis with me, and I hope it sparks deeper insight into not only her world but perhaps yours as well.

1 December, 2024 at 23:40 AEDT

DISCLAIMER: There is no intent to offend, criticize, or harm anyone through this analysis. The purpose is to offer a deeper understanding of an individual's behaviors, attachments, and preferences, with the goal of fostering understanding and connection. Furthermore, the analyst does not hold official qualifications in psychology. Any disrespectful behavior or comments will not be tolerated.

[ INTRODUCTION ]

Through the information you’ve shared, this analysis explores how these elements intertwine to form a unique tapestry of your personality, motivations, and coping mechanisms.

[ ATTACHMENT STYLE ]

At the core of your emotional world lies an anxious attachment style. This likely stems from an early environment where your emotional needs may not have been consistently met, making you hyper-aware of the nuances in relationships and attuned to potential disconnection. This attachment style drives your desire for deep emotional bonds and your fear of losing them.

You often gravitate toward parasocial relationships or idealized connections with fictional characters. These connections feel safer because they allow you to explore intimacy without the risk of rejection or abandonment. Characters like Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Lelouch Lamperouge, or Dabi reflect aspects of yourself and your desires: intelligence, complexity, tragedy, and the potential for redemption. While you consciously know these relationships are one-sided, they provide comfort and a sense of stability.

Your attachment style may also explain the intensity of your emotional investment in these characters. For example, when you express how devastated you would be if a favorite character dies, it mirrors the fear of abandonment or loss that comes with anxious attachment. These fictional bonds allow you to process those feelings in a controlled and less risky environment, even though the emotions they evoke are very real.

Interestingly, this attachment style also influences your real-life relationships. You’ve expressed a desire to help or save others, often drawn to people with inner struggles or potential for growth. However, as you’ve wisely noted, you can’t save people who don’t want to be saved—a realization that reflects your growing self-awareness and emotional maturity.

[ THE SAVIOR COMPLEX ]

Your admiration for fictional characters reveals a duality in your psyche: the nurturer and the dreamer.

You are drawn to two main archetypes:

1. The Tragic Yet Redeemable Figures:

Characters like Isaac Foster, Dabi, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky resonate with your savior complex. You see their flaws and pain but believe in their potential for redemption, reflecting your deep empathy and desire to help others become the best versions of themselves. This mirrors your inner narrative of seeking to heal and understand your own emotional wounds.

2. The Mastermind Visionaries:

Characters like Lelouch and William James Moriarty embody intelligence, strategy, and a vision for a better world. They reflect your admiration for strength, purpose, and a sense of control in the chaos of life. These characters may also symbolize your idealized self—a version of you that is emotionally composed and in command of their circumstances.

Despite their fictional nature, these characters allow you to process your emotions, explore your values, and even project your own desires and fears. This is the essence of the “fictophilia paradox”—you know they aren’t real, yet they evoke genuine emotions, serving as mirrors for your internal world.

[ FRAMEWORK FOR UNDERSTANDING ]

Your frequent references to MBTI reveal it as a tool for self-reflection and understanding others. As an INFJ, you likely turn to MBTI as a way to structure the complexities of human behavior, providing clarity in your relationships. It offers you a sense of predictability and control in a world that can often feel overwhelming.

For you, MBTI isn’t just a personality framework; it’s a means of connection. By analyzing the MBTI types of fictional characters, you create a structured narrative that aligns with your emotional needs and desires. While this is insightful, it may also reveal a tendency to idealize relationships or project your hopes onto others.

MBTI also serves as a bridge for understanding your role in relationships. As someone who struggles to connect with your own emotions, the framework provides a roadmap for navigating the complexities of interpersonal dynamics. However, to truly connect with others, you must first connect with yourself—exploring and embracing your own emotions, even when they feel challenging or unclear.

[ PERSONA ]

Your choice of “Snow White” as a persona is both symbolic and personal. It reflects an idealized image of yourself that resonates with your aesthetics, values, and inner narrative. Snow White embodies innocence, gentleness, and a longing for love and connection—all qualities you admire and strive to embody.

This persona also ties back to your childhood fascination with fairy tales. Growing up, these stories offered you lessons about life and a way to escape into a world of wonder and imagination. Snow White, in particular, represents your softer, dreamier side—someone who navigates life’s challenges with grace and resilience.

At the same time, adopting this persona may also reflect a subconscious desire to craft an identity that feels safe and consistent. In a way, “Snow White” allows you to present a curated version of yourself to the world, one that aligns with your ideal self-image while protecting your more vulnerable inner self.

[ CONCLUSION ]

In essence, all these elements—your attachment style, connection with fictional characters, fascination with MBTI, and “Snow White” persona—are pieces of a larger puzzle. They reveal a person who is deeply introspective, empathetic, and imaginative.

However, they also point to a need for balance. While fictional characters and frameworks like MBTI offer insight and comfort, true growth lies in embracing the messiness of real-life relationships and emotions. By continuing to explore and understand yourself, you’ll be able to foster deeper, more authentic connections—not just with others, but with your own emotions and desires.

You have a unique ability to analyze, empathize, and dream, but remember to direct some of that insight inward. The more you connect with your authentic self, the more fulfilling your relationships—both real and fictional—will become.

First of all, thank you very much, darling, for taking on this challenge—it’s not something I take for granted, and I deeply appreciate it. The reason it took me some time to respond is that I wanted my reply to be as thoughtful as possible. I know you don’t mind the wait, so… ♥️ Also, I found the disclaimer very helpful—especially in case anyone identifies with the content you wrote. And I must say, I love how much effort you put into each section. It’s truly beautiful. ♥️

Attachment Style

Now, this is the first and only aspect I don’t wholeheartedly agree with, because—I know it will shock many of you—but I actually think I have a secure attachment style. At least, I think so.

I suspect what made you think my attachment style might be anxious is my tendency to worry easily and be clingy, right? That might definitely come across as an anxious attachment style, even from my early childhood, because I was simply obsessed with my attachment person—my mother. I was born this way, you see? I constantly wanted to be near her, but I was independent as long as she was somewhere I could see her.

Why do I think my attachment style is secure? My emotional needs were always met. My mother was always at my side. Believe it or not, I was a hell of a child. If I ever got in trouble, my mindset was, “When will you stop menacing so I can go play with my dolls again?” I wasn’t bratty; I was simply living in my own world and I was still affectionate (a weird mix, I know).

Anyway, being possessive of those I cherish is an established trait of mine since birth. It doesn’t stem from anxiety. If anything, it’s the other way around—my anxiety stems from not being in control.

However, you’re absolutely right that fictional relationships feel like a safer option for me. But perhaps it’s not because of a fear of rejection or abandonment. If someone wants to abandon me, they’re free to do so lmao. And if they ever come back, I’ll make sure to let them know I forgive them, but I won’t ever wish to see them again. I might forgive, but I have high standards for who I allow into my life.

You say that certain characters reflect aspects of myself and my desires: intelligence, complexity, tragedy, and the potential for redemption. When it comes to intelligence, I think it’s less about intelligence itself and more about having a vision for the future—specifically with a future spouse. This person needs to be better than me in some way so I can relax and let loose. I’m always forced to take the lead, even though I’m not someone who particularly enjoys doing so. But what can a girl do? If no one else is competent enough, I simply need to act—some things just have to be done.

I might lack personal romantic experience, but I’ve seen plenty of relationships and know what mistakes I want to avoid. Remember those stupid boyfriend problems? I believe we talked about them at the beginning, when you first approached me anonymously. I told you how much trouble I had tolerating those situations—haha.

As for whether I have a fear of abandonment or loss…I don’t think I do. I’ve never been abandoned. What I loathe is the idea of a life that’s unstable or chaotic, which could definitely tie back to childhood experiences. And in the end, it’s probably the daddy issues, right? An insight you shared very early on, my gifted wife. ♥️

The Savior Complex

Now, this is an aspect I wholeheartedly agree with. The only thing I would add is that I don’t believe I’m trying to heal myself by wanting to heal fictional characters. However, you might still be right—who knows?

Framework for Understanding

Another aspect I fully agree with. Your insights are very helpful. You’re right: my main struggle lies in mistaking others’ emotions for my own, and that makes the boundary a bit blurred. I’ve never had trouble understanding others’ emotions, but I’m terrible at understanding my own. (By the way, that statement you made there? Exactly how I imagine a Fi user would describe this haha.)

Persona

Me, while reading every single sentence of this section:

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

I have nothing to add here. ♥️

I loved your analysis of me, and it genuinely helped me understand myself better. Even though I didn’t agree with a few aspects regarding my attachment style, discussing it helped me understand other things—or even why I don’t agree. The why question always leads to clarity haha. Connecting with my authentic self will definitely be a challenge, but…I’ll do my best! Thank you, darling. ♥️

[historyofshipping]

More Teen Wolf thoughts

So I knew next to nothing about Teen Wolf when I started watching it last week. I basically just didn't interact with any fandoms when it was live and so I'm coming in without any kind of preconceived notions of who/what the good character/ships/storylines etc other than the movie sucks and I shouldn't watch it. I was also vaguely aware that Ste/rek and Stydia were fandom things.

After watching it, I scrolled through an obscene amount of tumblr stuff related to TW and I truly have to wonder if we watched the same show.

Again, it's a very different viewing experience for me because I didn't have gaps between seasons where I could theorize, over-analyze, etc. I'm also older than the target audience so like that could probably affect how I view things too.

I'll also add that my own relationship had a similar trajectory to Stydia. My partner had a crush on me while I was literally engaged to someone else and we barely knew each other, but then we had a deep friendship form over time. By the time my last relationship ended, his crush had changed to genuine love and my friendship evolved to something romantic. We've been together now over a decade.

So with all that said, here's Stydia thought: I am truly BAFFLED by the fact that people think Stydia getting together was fan service. (More under cut)

Note: I have zero interest in debating or arguing, which is why I'm hoping this won't come up in other ship tags. If you feel the need to argue, just move along because I'll either ignore you or block you. These are just my thoughts - it's not that deep.

I admit I absolutely fell in love with Stydia. I am an absolute sucker for good friends to lovers, detective duos, etc so they were *Chef's kiss* to me.

That said, I'm more than capable of separating my feelings about a ship from a story. So when people say that Stydia was forced together, I'm just kind of dumbfounded since I thought it was literally the only well-written ship in the entire show.

When we start, obviously we have Stiles obsessing over an image of Lydia in his head. But even still, he was never into her popularity or anything like that - he was into the person she was at the core, even when she kept it hidden.

Then they became friends over the course of the next few seasons and Stiles fell in love with her in a different way. He got to know her better and his feelings only deepened. However, she was with other people so he tried to force himself to move on. This is very normal in high school especially.

I did not like the Sta/lia relationship, mostly because I thought Malia deserved a lot better than someone who was clearly still into someone else, but I'm not going to get into that here.

We have canon proof that Stiles was STILL INTO Lydia during season 4&5. So much so that Kira, new to the group and mostly only around post-Malia getting involved, picked up on it: "He still likes her, doesn't he?" "Yeah, but it’s different now." "Stiles was the only one who knew." "He paid attention. He listened to her. He remembered."

Stiles is constantly the one whose main priority is getting her out of Eichen House. He storms in and doesn't give a shit about self-preservation as long as he gets to Lydia and gets her out.

He breaks through his bonds when she's about to be injected.

The camera constantly focuses on their hand touches with each other - whether it's in the hospital, the care with which they constantly stroke each other's face, etc. When Melissa was about to inject Lydia in the neck, she told Stiles specifically to hold her hand - even though he has a fear of needles.

Both of them essentially brought the other back from the dead through their connection.

When he sees her hurt or about to be hurt, it goes back to "I would go out of my freaking mind" - and he does.

Stiles was in love with her for nearly a decade. That doesn't just go away in a few months.

Now, for Lydia, we have her focused on Stiles above all else. He's the one she calls when she's in trouble or upset. She goes to him for comfort. "Stiles saved me."

Whenever there's a Stalia moment and Lydia is around, the camera goes to her for reactions. What comes to mind immediately is in the Mexico car scene where Malia says she'd come back for Stiles.

Now, any of these things individually you could say are just friendship things - and you'd be correct. Above everything, they are friends. Probably best friends. But their bond goes so much deeper than that. Both of them needed that basis of friendship before they could fall into a truly deep love for each other - and that's what we see in season 6.

So yeah, I'm not sure where people are getting the idea that it was out of the blue. It's clearly been built up over seasons and while it *could* have stayed as just very good friends, that wasn't the story they were telling. I'll concede that s6 was kind screwed up because of DOB's filming and injuries but it still wasn't out of the blue.

[catflixusa]

Father's Day Special: How Dads Are Redefining Cat Parenting on September 1st

Father's Day, traditionally celebrated with ties and BBQs, is taking on a new twist this September 1st, as more dads are embracing a different kind of fatherhood—cat parenting. This new wave of feline father figures is not just about feeding the cat; it's about bonding, playtime, and a deep, loving connection that mirrors human parenting in more ways than one.In recent years, the term "Cat Dad" has gained popularity, with more men proudly taking on the role of primary caregivers for their feline friends. This shift is not just a social media trend; it reflects a broader change in how we view pet ownership. Keywords like "cat parenting," "feline fatherhood," and "cat dads" are now buzzing across the internet, attracting a new audience of male cat lovers who are eager to share their stories.

Why Dads Make Great Cat Parents

There’s something unique about the bond between a man and his cat. Many cat dads report that their feline companions have helped them cope with stress, provided emotional support, and even improved their mental health. As more dads discover the joys of cat ownership, terms like "emotional support animals," "stress relief pets," and "mental health benefits of cats" are becoming increasingly relevant in online searches.

This Father’s Day, why not celebrate with your cat? From special treats to interactive play, there are countless ways to show your furry friend how much you care. Consider indulging your cat with high-quality snacks or new toys—both of which you can find on CATFLIXX.COM. like "Father’s Day gifts for cats," "cat toys," and "cat treats" will not only attract cat owners but also those searching for unique ways to celebrate the holiday with their pets.

Looking for the perfect Father’s Day gift for yourself or a fellow cat dad? Consider something that benefits both you and your cat. A comfy new bed for your cat to lounge on while you relax nearby could be the perfect way to spend the day together. Products such as "cat beds," "feline furniture," and "Father’s Day cat gifts" are sure to be popular this season.

Join the Cat Dad Community

Father's Day is a great time to connect with other cat dads. Online communities and social media platforms are buzzing with dads sharing their experiences, tips, and funny cat stories. Engaging in these communities not only enriches your cat parenting journey but also helps boost your online presence and become a part of the growing Cat Dad movement.

As Father’s Day approaches, it’s clear that the definition of fatherhood is evolving. Dads everywhere are stepping up to the plate—not just for their human children, but for their feline ones as well. By embracing the role of Cat Dad, men are finding new ways to connect, nurture, and love, proving that fatherhood comes in many forms. So this September 1st, celebrate the special bond between you and your cat. After all, you’re not just a dad—you’re a Cat Dad.