#his high expectations and his self worth are tied to his own strength and he is desperate to prove that he is strong

[a-tale-of-legends]

When you realize Dante's arc is honestly pretty similar to Kieran's

[shihalyfie]

You talk a lot about how the Digimon are born from the kids own souls, would you be interested into describing how the digimon partners reflect their humans' personalities?

Oh man, I love this topic! (You’ll have to forgive me in that my desire to do justice for it is why it ended up taking me this long to answer it.)

The part about the Digimon literally being part of the kids’ souls comes directly from official (it’s been mentioned several times, not only in what I just linked). This was never stated outright in the original Adventure or 02, and it took until Kizuna to really shove the link between the partner and the human’s inner self in your face and make it a huge part of the actual story, but fans had been catching onto it long before that, and even without reading what the staff had said. Kizuna throws a bit of a nail in this because it’s said to be a bit lore-noncompliant, but considering how much of the background lore it still goes out of its way to adhere to, and the fact it still does match the fundamental concept of “human heart = Digimon partner” regardless of detailed minutiae, we can still apply and analyze this concept with no problem, especially since Adventure and 02 always walked the line between sci-fi and fantasy, and there is undoubtedly a spiritual element to them no matter how you look at it.

(My personal comfort zone in analyzing Adventure and 02 comes moreso from a human behavior and mentality perspective, which is also why my meta on this blog tends to focus more on the human drama aspects of Adventure and 02 and especially the latter’s story being so heavily about human relationships, but if you’re interested in said spiritual elements, I heavily recommend @analyzingadventure‘s very comprehensive meta on Adventure background lore and themes, which also covers similar territory in detail. We’re different people, so our takes on it probably differ in some respects, but that’s the beauty of having different perspectives, after all.)

In any case, back to your question. I think it would be best to break this down piece-by-piece with the Adventure and 02 kids in detail, so more is under the cut!

...Well, okay, before we continue, I do want to touch on something briefly, and it’s regarding the fact that “evolution” in this series is generally a metaphor for human growth. That counts for when everyone gets their evolutions, but it also counts as a metaphor overall -- after all, Adventure is about self-assertion and pushing oneself as far as possible (the major evolution gimmick being tied to Crests), whereas 02 is about cultivating differing aspects of yourself and applying it to how you form relationships with others (the major evolution gimmick being tied to Digimentals and ultimately Jogress). The human self is quite a flexible thing, and the Digimon themselves quite often change personalities as they evolve. (I touched on this briefly in my discussion of honorfiics and first-person pronouns earlier, but in Japanese, the Digimon will often even change personalities and speech patterns as they evolve.) This also leads to a few other potential observations (not really corroborated by official, just my personal view of it):

Speaking from a meta perspective, the fact that only the “front protagonists” end up getting the highest level forms is pretty obviously so they don’t have to spend toy budget on allocating it to everyone, but from an in-story perspective, Adventure episode 50 adds an implication that not reaching as high of a form may also have to do with how inherently attuned one is to combat (Jou says that he believes that Gomamon will never reach Ultimate because he doesn’t have the sort of strength Taichi and Yamato do, and it contributes to his conclusion that his skills are more meaningfully applied as a healer instead of as a fighter). Of course, none of the Adventure or 02 cast is necessarily the belligerent type that inherently likes fighting in itself, but of course certain ones are less emotionally drained or more attuned to it, so you might be able to see a rough pattern there. (Again, I’m not going to sugarcoat how this still has a lot of dismaying issues on the meta level, but the difference between “how much this sucks on a meta level” and “whether this at least tracks in-story” is a common theme on this blog.) In a franchise sense, Digimon were of course conceptualized as fighting monsters, but within the narrative of Adventure, it probably stands to reason that having a manifested part of your soul or inner self shouldn’t necessarily mean they have to be fighting things all of the time unless it’s necessary.

It’s very often been pointed out that the 02 cast is at a sort of “combat disadvantage” compared to their seniors (well, and Takeru and Hikari, anyway) because their highest forms require two people/Digimon to be in play, so their overall combat power is rather low. My impression is that this is by design (and it’s a subversion of the usual expectation of shounen anime sequels where the sequel will often power creep everything to make the new guard outdo the first). That the 02 team is inherently dependent on each other for support, and to a degree far more than their seniors, is rather baked into its narrative, and moreover, from an in-story perspective, the 02 group doesn’t seem like the type to really care about being outflanked by their seniors (on the contrary, they’d probably take that as more proof that their seniors are amazing). Moreover, the forms you see their Digimon in most of the time tend towards the smaller Baby-level forms instead of the Child-level ones, and while this is partially due to plot logistics about being in the real world (and, admittedly, kind of inconsistently applied), it gives you a much stronger impression of the 02 kids and their partners in general being people who aren’t that individually imposing or strong and get more mileage out of flexibility and variety (see: the Digimentals and the huge number of lower-level forms the kids have access to).

With this kind of metaphor, I caution against taking it too literally as a 1:1 thing (especially since official has been generally quiet about it and there isn’t much in the series text itself to corroborate this), but I do think there is certainly some kind of relevance that’s worth thinking about.

Many people, including the official notes I just linked, refer to there being some Digimon partners that are "like-minded” with their partner, and some that are “opposite” in personality. This is roughly true, but I find this to be a very simplified description of the concept; it’s more like all Digimon partners are a reflection of the less easily exposed part of their human partner (and, most pertinently, the part that would allow them to express themselves in ways they wouldn’t normally), it’s just that the kids with more straightforward or less extreme personalities don’t have as much to hide or cover up in the first place, and so their partners come off as more “like-minded”. Even Urawa Megumi, voice of Iori and Armadimon (arguably one of the pairs of partners that seem “opposing” in personality), stated that she didn’t personally feel like the two characters are all that different, since humans have different sides to them, and Armadimon is functionally an expression of the side of Iori that isn’t apparent.

Because the Adventure narrative has the Digimon partners be linked to human mentality, this leads to the side effect that you won’t have a Digimon partner who ever truly denies the human partner (barring external factors like Evil Ring-induced brainwashing), which is something producer Seki Hiromi was quite insistent about. That said, this is a very Adventure and 02-specific thing, since other series go more into different angles about how one would approach partnership when this factor is not in play; half of Tamers’s drama regarding partners comes from the fact they are not necessarily mentally linked all of the time, and need to find a way to build a relationship by bridging that gap, and so non-Adventure universe entries are more freely able to explore the concepts of a Digimon partner more consciously entering conflict with their human partner. Well, that’s the beauty of having a multi-entry franchise, after all.

Taichi and Agumon

Taichi and Agumon immediately jump to mind as the first among the “like-minded” pairs, especially since the series shows them so often in sync and chilling together. Taichi himself is a straightforward person, so it stands to reason that his straightforward personality would also lend to Agumon coming off as being rather much like him.

However, there is one slight difference between the two, and it’s that Agumon has a somewhat stronger sense of “easygoing chill” than Taichi does, right down to using the more polite boku first-person pronoun in contrast to Taichi’s more assertive ore. He also lacks Taichi’s penchant for mild insensitivity -- in fact, very unlike Taichi, he has an incredible amount of emotional insight (02 spends quite a bit of time in 02 episodes 32 and 46 to showing off Agumon as someone who makes up for all of his lack of intellectual understanding with emotional and borderline poetic insight). And, really, while Taichi is a bit surface-insensitive, and while he seems to be impulsive, he actually is a conscientious person and is trying his best in his own way, and he isn’t the kind of person who cares about societal things like seniority, and he demonstrates multiple times that he’s easygoing and chill, and so you can say that’s a part of Taichi as well. Remembering that a Digimon partner’s presence helps their own human partner grow, Agumon being so openly friendly helps Taichi maintain good relations with others without running afoul of them.

One of Agumon’s most famous traits is that he likes food, which is not actually something that was in the original Adventure or 02 all that much but has been somewhat exaggerated since. That said, back in Adventure, while it was established that all Digimon regularly need food in order to maintain their evolutions, Agumon would usually be the first to complain “I’m hungry,” and whenever they did get food, Agumon would be one of the most prominently enjoying it. Food is, after all, one of the simplest and most universal of pleasures, and there’s a lot of visual framing of Taichi chowing down just as ravenously as Agumon is -- so, honestly, he probably got it from him.

Taichi also speaks a bit about his pain of being separated from Agumon in the space between Adventure and 02, and he directly refers to Agumon as “the other me”. The word “partner” was not actually used very much in the original Adventure or 02, and Taichi is not able to fully elucidate the sentiment of Agumon’s connection to his own self, but he still understands this much and why the loss cuts him so deeply, and by the time we get to Kizuna, it’s presumably why he uses similar language in his thesis proposal to refer to him. (I already covered the circumstances of Agumon’s relationship to Taichi’s existential crisis in Kizuna and how it led to their separation earlier, so I will omit it here for the sake of avoiding redundancy.)

Yamato and Gabumon

This might surprise some people to hear, but I would also pin this as one of the more ostensibly “like-minded” pairs. Gabumon is shy on the surface, but turns out to be quite passionate -- he uses the same assertive ore as Yamato, in contrast to Agumon’s boku, and he demonstrates his capacity for passion and action in that he’s arguably one of the most assertive in the cast. Note his taking initiative against Yamato’s frostbite in Adventure episode 9, or declaring his intent to stay with Yamato even if it means going against the others in Adventure episode 44, or singlehandedly dragging Yamato out of the hole of darkness in Adventure episode 51.

And, of course, Yamato himself is someone who initially seems a little awkward or detached around everyone, but is actually very passionate, so that’s all the same. And because Gabumon himself is so open about communicating with the otherwise closed-in Yamato, Yamato is able to express himself better over the course of Adventure.

Funny thing about that “shyness”, too -- the idea of Gabumon being particularly shy isn’t present in 02 much at all (we don’t get to see him very much, so it’s hard to say whether it’s completely gone, but it’s at least gone enough for the duration of his appearances). Which is funny, considering: guess who else stopped being shy and became naturally outgoing in 02? Yeah, so, as much as you might hear people (even official!) claim that the Digimon are static while their partners change, that’s not completely true -- the Digimon themselves develop in personality in the same way their human partners do. It’s just more subtle and less drastic, since they’re representing an abstract single part of their personality rather than being an exact match.

Sora and Piyomon

Sora and Piyomon have an interesting relationship in that they’re the only one where their relationship started off on a note of conflict -- mainly in that Sora was very put off by Piyomon at first and even looked down condescendingly on her (well, only for the duration of a single episode). In fact, Sora’s own surface behavior is very different from the kind and caring Sora we know -- Sora dislikes associating with the clingy and affectionate Piyomon for being “mushy”, and even declares that she doesn’t want to “take responsibility” for lugging her around.

Of course, Sora’s character arc later revolves around the fact that she has abysmally bad self-awareness and doesn’t even realize that she has a compulsive sense of responsibility to others. So Sora is affectionate and loving -- she just puts up a front of trying to act a little above that (well, at least, during this part of the series) and doesn’t even see herself as someone capable of being like that (again, purely during this part of the series).

Piyomon is also interesting in that she has one of the most dramatic personality shifts even as early as Child to Adult, where she suddenly switches from the casual atashi to watashi (sometimes even kono watashi, which is super regal), and becomes incredibly dignified and regal even as Birdramon, and you can certainly see why Sora immediately started taking her seriously thereafter. It also begs a lot to think about, considering Sora’s very convoluted character and the many layers of herself that even she isn’t consciously aware of.

The way Piyomon helped Sora shift her own mentality is pretty directly handed to you on a plate in Adventure episode 26 -- because Piyomon played the role of Sora in the metaphor of Sora’s behavior towards Piyomon correlated to Toshiko’s behavior towards Sora, Sora was able to re-adjust her position relative to her family and consider her both someone capable of love, and someone who is loved.

Koushirou and Tentomon

Koushirou and Tentomon are another pair that initially seem like they’re opposing types, with Koushirou being constantly curious and Tentomon being comparatively simple-minded, but the first key to figuring out where the similarity is ends up being a bit deceptive -- Tentomon says in Adventure episode 5 that he’s not particularly interested in himself. And, certainly, Koushirou is interested in Tentomon, but he, too, is not interested in himself -- in fact, he considers himself to be a topic he’d rather avoid instead of looking into everything else.

As far as language goes, while Tentomon does also use the stereotypically easygoing Kansai dialect, he also specifically uses the polite form, mirroring Koushirou’s own perpetual use of polite language. But unlike Koushirou, who uses it to keep distance from others, Tentomon is in fact very sociable, and is even portrayed as a Digimon who’s conscientious of others and “takes care” of them. And because Tentomon is so openly friendly, he manages to coax Koushirou out of his shell and allow him to think about more complicated things related to his own position in the world that he’d been avoiding.

As Koushirou’s character arc proceeds, we learn that he’s polite not only out of distance but also because he really is a very kind person, and moreover that he does eventually want to open up to others. And the payoff for this eventually comes in 02...

...when he ends up becoming one of the most visible members of the older Adventure cast to appear in the series, checking in on the younger kids and developing into someone capable of organizing and managing people. Hmm, seems familiar.

Mimi and Palmon

This one’s an easy one. Mimi is possibly the most straightforward person in the original Adventure cast -- well, that’s the point of her Crest after all -- and so Palmon is almost exactly like her, being a cheerful type who loves being cute. Any contrast between them is only really apparent in the very early episodes of the series, and that’s not even a contrast in theory as much as it’s just something that might intrigue audiences at first when Mimi spent a lot of those episodes complaining, but that’s also mostly because she was heavily under stress, and otherwise Mimi has always been kind and cheerful and indulgent in being cute.

Perhaps the only real difference is that Palmon, being a plant, is more willing to get involved with dirt and other things that Mimi ostensibly would rather not, but as the series progresses, Mimi manages to gain a higher sense of tolerance and get past her initial sense of materialism (which is something she’d had the capacity for the whole time).

Jou and Gomamon

Of the Adventure pairs, this one is probably the one that seems like the biggest contrast on its face, with the overly high-strung and constantly stressed Jou, and the more playful and relaxed Gomamon.

In the end, Jou is someone who’s defined by his desire to support others, and even admits at the end of the series that he’s better suited for a support role than for fighting, and that there’s nothing wrong with that as long as he continues to channel his desire to help people in a way he’s most comfortable with. So, in the end, he’s not actually an inherently aggressive type. And, meanwhile, Gomamon is the kind who’s constantly looking out for Jou, to the point of knowing (such as in Adventure episode 7) when he’s about to do something phenomenally stupid and minding him so that nothing bad happens to him, and so, this is probably why they’re ultimately able to settle down and end the series eye-to-eye (or perhaps hand-to-hand).

And, again, recall that Digimon partners generally reflect a part that’s vital to their own human partner’s growth; considering that Jou is most certainly one of the more extreme personalities in this cast, you get the feeling that he probably needs someone this chill to keep his massive stress tendencies in check.

Takeru and Patamon

Takeru and Patamon are an interesting case largely due to the two of them being so present for a whole two series. In Adventure, both of them seem to be largely like-minded, being playful, innocent, and childish -- although Patamon is more open about expressing the childishness that Takeru keeps trying to cover up. Patamon being roughly on the same playing field (no pun intended) as Takeru means that Takeru has someone he’s willing to be open with and let himself loose a little (such as in Adventure episode 12), because for the first half of the series, he’s almost entirely in the presence of elders and stifling himself for the sake of being “well-behaved”, and it starts his long journey of being able to understand his position and his actual sense of emotions over the course of Adventure and 02.

Patamon also has a striking personality change upon evolving, becoming the regal and dignified Angemon, and, interestingly, his appearances have a very “knight templar” vibe where he takes a no-compromise stance against dark forces and states that he’ll condemn all of them to oblivion. This is a stance that’s unnervingly similar to Takeru’s own no-compromise stance against the darkness in 02, and it’s interesting in that Takeru himself had been advocating for pacifism in Adventure episode 12, but this incident traumatized him enough to start taking a position that more resembled Angemon’s.

As we go into 02, Takeru’s contrast with Patamon initially seems like an increased mismatch, since Patamon is still ostensibly childish and playful while Takeru is ostensibly more mature. But for one, Takeru’s character arc is about the fact that he’s still pretending he’s more in control of his emotions than he actually is, and in some way you can also glean that there’s a sort of naivete present in his character that he keeps covering up with confident smiles. Patamon, for his part, does actually seem to have adopted a bit of a mentor role to the other Digimon, and we also learn that he’s capable of deliberately trolling people instead of just being generically playful -- much like Takeru himself, who’s a bit evasive and not entirely honest.

We do actually see Patamon reach HolyAngemon in 02 episode 34, but it doesn’t work out well, and while this is partially for plot mechanic reasons, it also says a lot that the “knight templar” stance that both Takeru and HolyAngemon have, with the full depth of no-compromise, isn’t going anywhere, and in the end, something more effective is only possible when Shakkoumon appears in 02 episodes 36-37 -- that is, Takeru is only able to better move on with Iori’s support.

Hikari and Tailmon

Hikari is the only of the Tokyo Chosen Children to have a Digimon who “defaults” to Adult instead of Child or lower, and it means that Tailmon herself comes with a certain amount of maturity -- on top of having been become a bit hardened due to her experiences being isolated. This is an ostensible contrast to the more pure-hearted and innocent Hikari, but note that Hikari’s own will can be pretty assertive when it comes down to it. On top of that, as much as Tailmon is a bit standoffish, Hikari is also “emotionally isolated” -- she has trouble vocalizing her negative feelings, and it’s difficult for anyone in Adventure or the first half of 02 to truly connect with her internal thoughts. Recalling that the Digimon partner reflects a side of the human partner that’s less easily exposed and allows the human partner to grow in ways they wouldn’t before, Tailmon’s sheer presence gives Hikari a route to action in ways she probably wouldn’t have beforehand.

In 02, Hikari becomes a little more mischievous and playful, and Tailmon also becomes a bit more willing to indulge (she even switches first-person pronouns in sync with Hikari, going from the more polite watashi to the more casual atashi). Both of them are now more able to enjoy themselves more openly. That said, Tailmon still has a certain degree of stuffy personal pride (she snarks at everyone quite easily for fussing over snacks in 02 episode 3), and Hikari herself remains emotionally elusive and repressive at the start of this series.

Tailmon evolves temporarily to Angewomon in 02 episode 13, which is the first time anyone (in this case, Takeru) makes some degree of headway to reaching out to her and allowing her to open up a bit more, but it’s not until 02 episode 31 when Hikari is fully reached out to via Miyako, which marks the first appearance of Silphymon.

Daisuke and V-mon

Now here’s a very like-minded pair, even more so than Taichi and Agumon -- and, after all, Daisuke is simple-minded, so painfully simple-minded that he’s practically incapable of hiding anything, and so V-mon is almost exactly like him, down to using the same ore pronoun and being feisty and mischievous (a point is also made that he plays soccer with Daisuke, something that Agumon didn’t necessarily do with Taichi), and, heck, in a rare show of Digimon-Digimon crushes, has a crush on Tailmon in the exact same way Daisuke has on Hikari. (By the time we get to Kizuna and its higher animation budget, a lot of attention is paid to having even their body language mirror each other.)

There is only one real functional difference between the two in disposition, and it’s that V-mon is very straightforward, friendly, and kind, without being prone to getting angry or spiteful at anyone, and in the end, it’s indicative of the fact that Daisuke’s tendency to lash out defensively at everyone is just a front -- at his core, he’s friendly, supportive, and kind. Daisuke’s experiences and banter with V-mon contribute to him getting the sort of validation he needed without having to worry about being on edge or lash out defensively, and because of that, he was able to form a healthier and more supportive relationship with the rest of the group.

Miyako and Hawkmon

This one seems to be a contrast right off the bat -- Miyako is bubbly, over-the-top, and rather messy and lacking in restraint, whereas Hawkmon is formal, graceful, and polite. But Hawkmon’s most prominent trait is his absolute loyalty and devotion to Miyako -- he’s very often referred to by both official staff and fans as her “knight” -- and is constantly minding her to protect her and make sure she doesn’t go over her head (most prominently, 02 episode 18). And as far as Miyako’s relationship to others goes -- she’s also devotedly loyal to everyone she loves and is constantly going out of her way to help others, and her character arc in itself is about the fact she wants to do her best to reach out to people and help emotionally support them in the best way she can, and Hawkmon managing to channel that to its utmost extent to Miyako in turn (in a very “who watches the watchman?” sense) allows her to regain her bearings and have better control over herself in the aftermath of 02 episode 18.

On top of that, as the series proceeds, it turns out that Hawkmon also shares Miyako’s penchant for dramatic theatrics and being a bit over his head -- even if he seemingly has himself more together than Miyako does, he’s not completely above it all...

Miyako is also the franchise’s first example of a female character with a masculine Digimon partner, and while Miyako herself openly identifies with and indulges in all things hyper-feminine, she also has zero issue engaging in more masculine-associated things as they suit her -- most prominently her Digital World outfit, and the fact she often displays a rather aggressive go-getter and hot-blooded/in-your-face personality that would not be out of place on a male shounen hero in a more conventional show. (Although, as much as these have generally been on the thread of “less visible aspects”, it’s not like this was that less visible of an aspect of her to begin with...)

Iori and Armadimon

Iori and Armadimon hold the honor of being the only pair in the Tokyo Chosen Children to be voiced by the same voice actress (Urawa Megumi), driving the parallel down even further. And while their surface temperaments seem different, with Iori being rather uptight and strict on himself while Armadimon is laid-back, carefree, and even somewhat assertive, they’re not that different -- Armadimon is basically the curious, impressionable, somewhat childish spirit that Iori would be if he weren’t constantly holding himself back. (There’s a lot to be said about Submarimon going out of his way to take Iori for a ride in 02 episode 16 so that Iori can finally properly enjoy himself for once.)

Iori takes a lot of very stubborn, no-compromise positions over the course of 02, but Armadimon asking just the right kinds of questions allows him to “snap out of it” and be a little more receptive to considering alternatives, or at least taking into account more emotionally-oriented issues he’s dealing with. You can say that Armadimon (especially as Upamon) softening Iori up a bit -- since Iori will never be cold or unforgiving towards his partner, no matter what -- serves as a precursor to Iori starting to question the limitations of his black-and-white view of morality, which allows him to successfully break through to Takeru and fill out the rest of his character arc.

Ken and Wormmon

Considering how much of the plot revolved around this one, this one almost goes entirely without saying! During Ken’s stint as the Kaiser, Wormmon represents the heart that Ken’s not entirely willing to leave behind -- and, also, the affection that he’s still craving from his family. The Kaiser going practically out of his way to deny Wormmon yet paradoxically keeping him around is basically his attitude towards his own “weak” and naturally kindhearted self. Notably, recall that the principle of “a Digimon will never deny their partner” applies here -- Wormmon’s “betrayal” of the Kaiser isn’t really any kind of denial, since he was doing it mainly for Ken’s own sake, and, more symbolically, it’s Ken reaching his own limit and coming to realize that this path isn’t what he really wants.

Wormmon is unusually clingy to his own partner over the course of 02, and it’s vital to Ken needing to learn to love himself and also getting important validation that he needs, especially during the critical point in time during 02 episodes 23-30 when he’s still not sure how to approach the rest of the group -- Wormmon gives him someone to talk to honestly and openly, giving him a proper springboard to sort out his complicated feelings about the others and himself. You can say also that as Ken becomes more open and straightforward over the course of the latter half of 02, he, in turn, becomes much more shameless about showing affection and opening his own heart.

Wallace, Gumimon, and Chocomon

Bonus round!

While it’s hard to fully apply Hurricane Touchdown to this theory (by official admission, it wasn’t properly cross-referenced with the original Adventure/02 series lore, and trying to correlate all of the evolutions in this movie to something metaphorical will give you a headache), Wallace’s two partners still fit very neatly into this overall theory of Digimon partners as a part of the self. Wallace is a character with very sharp duality, trying to be a flirt who asserts himself as a vagrant who’s about to “become an adult”, yet still feels an obligation to keep calling his mom and is engaging in increasingly self-destructive behavior.

Most pertinently, Gumimon and Chocomon represent the two stances Wallace is torn between: wanting to “return to the past” (Chocomon) because he’s still hung up on having lost Chocomon and is convinced that he can make everything just like it was before, and “being able to productively move on” (Gumimon). For most of the early parts of the movie, Wallace is stuck on Chocomon’s mentality of fixating on the past, and Gumimon isn’t even remotely subtle when he draws an explicit parallel between the two (saying that Chocomon didn’t like the heat, followed by offering to give Wallace shade as a hat). But once the conflict escalates and Wallace realizes just how deep in denial Chocomon is, to the point of being destructive to himself and others, Wallace comes to embrace Gumimon’s stance of practicality and moving on. In the end, the ultimate conclusion is reached, and Wallace is forced to fully accept that latter stance when Chocomon dies, but the movie’s ending (and Kizuna) provide an extra option: allowing the past to come back, but in a new form and treading new territory instead of trying to make it “the way it was before”.

[kanerallels]

OKAY OKAY ROUND TWO OF THIS! Kanera fix it or Kanera and waffles! Whichever works <3

*has no self control* *writes my first fix it* This was hecking fun! I hope you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 2,455

Tags/Warning: rated T (for time travel! *insert Hulk gif here*) and also near death

This wasn’t how Kanan wanted things to end.

He'd wanted more time. He'd wanted to explain things to Hera, to tell her how much she meant to him.

But things had moved too fast for him. Kanan was too late.

He felt the heat of the fire from the fuel pod singing the tips of his fingers, and concentrated on pushing it back with all his strength, his hands shaking slightly and his face twisting with the effort. The fire billowed high above him, but Kanan wasn’t afraid. Just full of regrets.

Behind him, he heard Hera scream his name, her voice full of raw desperation and fear. Kanan knew, without even needing to look, that she would run towards him and she did, her steps barely audible above the roar of the flames.

Turning without looking, Kanan diverted part of his concentration and caught her in her steps, holding her back with the Force. He felt her struggle against the grip, panic and fear pulsing through her.

Slowly, on some instinct he didn’t understand, he turned to face Hera. Maybe it was because of how much he ached to see her. Maybe it was to give her one last glimpse of him. Kanan sensed her desperation, her fear, how much she wanted to reach him.

But he couldn’t let her. There was too much at stake. So with a quick thrust, he sent her flying back to where Ezra was waiting, ready. His apprentice caught hold of her, holding her back. Kanan felt a flicker of gratitude-- he could always count on Ezra.

An odd tingling sensation swept across his eyes, and for a moment he thought he was crying. But crying had been impossible ever since Malachor. Since he’d been blinded.

Even as he thought the word, it was like a cloud was swept away from his eyes, and he could see. Kanan had no idea how, but he accepted it calmly, as he’d accepted his fate.

His gaze locked onto Hera first-- Hera, clad in an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit, a look of complete horror and fear in her eyes, with the slightest hint of surprise and awe as she looked at him. Kanan took her in, drinking in the very sight of her. She was older than she had been when they’d first met, and had only grown more beautiful. And Kanan had only grown more in love with her.

Behind her, holding her back, was Ezra-- Force, Ezra. He was so tall, so grown-up looking. Kanan was well aware he’d only ever pictured the little boy from Lothal, and he felt pride stirring in his heart. Stay safe, kid, he thought. You know what to do. I love you both.

And so he released his hold on the flames and used all his power and strength to send the ship that held Ezra, Sabine, and Hera flying away from the fuel depot. It would be enough. It had to be enough.

They would be safe. And they would keep fighting. Hera always did.

That was Kanan’s last thought before the flames swallowed him.

But it wasn’t his last thought.

Even as the fire swirled around him, he heard a strange whoosh, and the sound of boots impacting on metal, and suddenly the fire was gone. And Kanan was somewhere else entirely.

“Did it work?”

A young male voice came from behind Kanan, stunned but excited.

“Of course it worked, idiot, he’s not dead and we still exist,” said a dry female voice that sounded… bizarrely familiar. Almost like--

Kanan turned towards the sound and someone tackled him to the ground, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, sorry-- eyes closed,” the young man ordered. “If you look, I’ll tell Hera.”

“What does that even mean?” Kanan demanded-- although it was a fairly compelling argument. Trying to shove the young man off of him, he said “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“Saving you, you dumb--”

The young man cleared his throat loudly, cutting off the woman. “We were sent here to save your life.”

“What?” Kanan’s jaw dropped, surprise flashing through him. “Wha-- no, I was supposed to die. It had to happen, to save Hera and Ezra and Sabine--”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the woman said, “They’re FINE, trust me. Well, other than the fact they think you’re dead.”

The young man groaned. “Okay, you should probably stop talking now. I’ll handle this.”

“You’re not much more diplomatic than me!”

“Everyone’s more diplomatic than you, Depa.”

“Depa?” Kanan asked, a frown knitting his forehead.

He heard his two rescuers freeze, and a muttered curse. “Yeah,” the young man said cautiously. “That’s her name.”

“That was my master’s name,” Kanan said, his mind racing. There was no way that could be a coincidence. Sure, there were probably other people in the galaxy named Depa, but--

“You can probably stop sitting on him-- he’ll behave,” Depa said dryly. “Right, Jarrus? That means keep your eyes close, and NO PEEKING or I’ll punch you out.”

“You can’t punch him out,” the young man said with a sigh.

“Why, because he’s an old geezer? I’m not afraid to hit an old man.”

Kanan sensed the young man rolling his eyes. “He’s not even that old right now! Okay, I’m gonna let you up-- please keep your eyes closed.”

The young man scrambled off of him, and Kanan slowly rose to his feet, wincing. He’d been burned, he could feel that much-- his hands, the back of his neck and his face especially. But somehow, impossibly, he was alive.

“I-- thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how or why you saved me, but thank you.”

“Someone had to,” Depa said, her voice surprisingly sincere. “And Force knows you needed help.”

“True,” the young man agreed. “But we don’t have all day here-- we need to get you back.”

“Back?” Kanan asked.

“Back to Hera and everyone else,” the young man elaborated. “If you follow us, we can get you out of here and back to them. They should be expecting you. Hopefully. We’re pretty sure Ezra warned them.”

“Reassuring,” Kanan said, keeping his eyes shut. “Which way are we going? And where are we, exactly?”

“This way,” Depa said, giving his shoulder a slight nudge in the right direction. As Kanan started walking, she added, “And we’re in some dumb alternate dimension.”

“It’s a world between worlds,” the young man corrected from ahead of them. “And it was really hard to get here. You wouldn’t believe all the stuff we had to do to get here. But it led us to where you were, which makes it worth it.”

“Why?” Kanan asked, releasing the question he’d been turning over in his mind. “Why did you come to save me? Why you in particular?”

He heard the young man’s footsteps stutter, like he’d paused in his steps. “Oh. Um…”

“Subtle, Jacen,” Depa said sarcastically.

“Jacen?” Kanan felt a grin cross his face. “So that’s your name.”

Jacen let out a sigh. “Nice one, Depa. Look, D-- Kanan. You’re… really important. To a lot of people. And they couldn’t just lose you if there was something that could be done.”

“So we did it,” Depa said matter of factly. “As you do. Oh, we’re here! This is your stop.”

They came to a halt, and Kanan sensed… something. Like a light at the end of a hallway, beckoning him forward. “And this is where I’m supposed to go?” he said warily. “It’s safe?”

“Trust me,” Jacen said. “She’s on the other side. Hera is. Your family is waiting for you.”

Kanan nodded slowly, his mind spinning. Despite the obvious strangeness of this whole thing, the way it had caught him off guard, there were a few things that he had a strange feeling about. Like he was two steps away from putting something together, something incredibly important. “Wait-- before I go through there. Will I be able to see?”

“I-- oh. No,” Depa said, her voice soft, almost shaken. “You never could after Lothal. That was the last time.”

“Then I at least want to see the faces of the pair that saved my life,” Kanan said. “If you’re alright with it.”

“I’m not sure--” Jacen began.

“Oh, shut up and let him,” Depa said, her voice exasperated. “What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, I-- I want him to.”

There was a short pause, then Jacen sighed. “I know. Me, too. Okay, go ahead.”

Kanan’s eyes flicked open. He was in what looked like outer space-- pure black, only broken up by strange white lines outlining paths. And, every now and then, circular doorways. “Huh,” Kanan murmured, his gaze sweeping across the place. And then it landed on the duo standing in front of him, and his eyes widened in surprise.

They were both a couple years younger than him. Jacen was a tall young man, tan-skinned except where it was green, especially along his pointed ears. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, and scruffy goatee were a deep shade of green, and his eyes were almost an almost disturbingly familiar shade of turquoise.

Depa was a young Twi’lek woman with green skin, pink patches here and there. Her eyes were brown, and widened slightly with shock as they met his. “He really does have your eyes,” she said, her voice stunned.

“Wow,” Kanan breathed, any doubt in his mind swept away. “Are-- are you two-- Wow. Words fail me.”

Depa let out a snort. “Same here. But about that haircut. Mom was right, it really is awful. Worse than the one Jacen gave himself when he was eleven. It was really bad, be glad you didn’t see it.”

Kanan chuckled, then glanced at Jacen. “I-- and you two came here to save me?”

Jacen shrugged. “We wouldn’t exist if we didn’t. Well, I would, but Depa wouldn’t, and that’s a downside. Kinda.”

Depa punched him in the arm, and Jacen let out a yelp, darting away from her as she took another swing at him, and Kanan could only shake his head because of what he was watching. “This is unbelievable.”

“I mean. Not that unbelievable,” Jacen pointed out, a smile crossing his face that Kanan had seen a thousand times in the seat next to his own.

“Wow. You look… just like your mom. Both of you.”

Jacen’s eyes went wide. “R-really? Um. Everyone says I look like… you.”

“That is Hera Syndulla’s smile right there,” Kanan said, and he knew it to his core. “Looks just like hers. But yeah, I can see our resemblance. Well. For now.”

The smile faded off of Jacen’s face, and he said in a low voice, “We can’t stay.”

Nodding, Kanan said, “I know. I should probably get going, too. Just--” he paused, looking at his children for the last time. “I’m proud of you two already.”

“That is so typical of you,” Depa said, rolling her eyes in a completely Hera movement. “Do you have any idea how many kids you’re gonna adopt? Hint-- it’s a lot.”

“No spoilers,” Jacen ordered. “We should go. But before we do--” he turned to Kanan. “When the time comes, tell Ezra that he doesn’t have to be you. He has to be him, and no one else.”

“Oh, and don’t worry,” Depa said breezily. “You’ll find him eventually.”

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” Kanan demanded.

“You’re about to find out,” Depa said with a wink, and that, Kanan knew, she’d gotten from him.

Leaning forward, Jacen said, “She’s your most infuriating child. Yes, more so than the Mandalorian.”

Kanan shook his head, grinning. “I can’t wait for you two to come along. I really can’t.”

Shrugging, Depa said, “You might not have to wait that long. Now get out of here, we’ve all got places to be.”

“Right.” Kanan turned towards the doorway, which was a blank white, and glanced back at his kids one more time. “May the Force be with you,” he told them.

“You always say that,” Jacen said with a slight grin. “See you soon, Dad.”

Kanan nodded, then stepped through the doorway.

Everything was dark as he stumbled out into what was some kind of clearing, or something. But he felt the sunlight on his face, and knew why it was. His eyesight was gone again, and he was okay with that.

A shriek cut through his thoughts, and he jerked his head up as someone shouted his name. “Kanan!”

It was Hera, her voice holding shock and joy and love, and Kanan heard her run towards him. But this time, he was running, too, and felt her slam into him. “You’re here,” she choked out, a sob shaking her body. “Ezra was right. I didn’t think--”

Kanan cut her off with a kiss, pulling her closer as she kissed him back. Breaking away from the kiss, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Hera let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words, love.”

“I-- wait.” Kanan froze. “How long was I gone? How long since the fuel depot?” Panic raced through him.

“Only three months,” Hera assured him, clearly catching his fear. “You’ve missed a lot. There’s some things we should talk about.”

“I bet,” Kanan muttered. “Okay, let’s go talk.”

Hera stepped away from him, but caught hold of his hand so she could lead him. “Right this way, dear.”

Kanan relished the sound of her voice as he walked with her, willing to wait through whatever they had to talk about next.

Well. Almost willing. “There’s… one thing that I have to ask you,” he said. “There was this weird thing that happened while I was gone-- it’s a long story. But something that happened made me think-- it might be stupid, but I just need to ask--”

Cutting him off, Hera said, “Just ask, love.”

“Right.” Taking a quick breath, Kanan asked, “Are you… pregnant?”

He felt her stop in her tracks, shock radiating through her. “I--” Hera paused, then let out a sigh. “I was planning on telling you myself, you know. Not sure I should be thanking your Jedi instincts on this one. But… yes. I’m pregnant.”

Holy. Kriff. “I’m gonna be a dad,” Kanan whispered, the words surreal but beautiful. They were real. I actually saw my kids. Which means-- Jacen.

A smile slipping across his face, he bent down and kissed Hera again. He knew things had to have changed, and he had a lot to catch up on. But he was with the woman he loved, and he had a lifetime to look forward to. They could handle it together.

[ibijau]

How to Woo a Lan pt 4 / Also on AO3

Jin Ling explains why he fell in love, gets some advice, and tries to give advice of his own in return

Clearly expecting that the conversation would take a while, Nie Huaisang put away his work and called for servants to bring everything needed to serve tea. Once they were alone waiting for that tea to arrive, Jin Ling started explaining how he had fallen in love with the most perfect person in the entire world, how beautiful Lan Sizhui was (this earned him an unimpressed stare from Nie Huaisang), how elegant (more staring), how nice (a roll of the eyes).

“So he is polite, and you find that impressive,” Nie Huaisang noted, hiding a yawn behind his fan. “I suppose someone living in Jinlin Tai and the Lotus Pier wouldn’t be used to it. And of course he’s handsome, he’s a Lan. I think it’s something in the water of the Cloud Recesses.” Jin Ling frowned at the dismissal of Lan Sizhui’s quality, while Nie Huaisang yawned again, this time without bothering to hide it. “Is that why you love him? He’s capable of more basic decency than most people you’ve met in your life -a very low bar, might I add-, he’s somewhat good-looking, and that’s it?”

“Of course that’s not all!” Jin Ling exploded, but he couldn’t explain the rest right away as the servants returned then.

Nie Huaisang, who could act like a good host when he felt like it, prepared tea with slow, measured movements and poured it for both of them when the servants left again. With unexpected elegance, he gave one glass of tea to Jin Ling before making a gesture to order him to resume speaking.

“He really is kind, and I won’t let you treat it like something that doesn’t matter,” Jin Ling said, before taking a sip of tea. 

It was nice, if a little plain. Having accompanied both his uncles to conferences in Qinghe before, he knew this blend was considered the better sort of tea available in the Unclean Realm, which comforted him. He had no doubt Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have hesitated to serve him bad tea if he’d really been annoyed about being half blackmailed into helping.

 “I know people from Gusu Lan are polite, but it’s not the same as kind,” Jin Ling pointed out, and he could have sworn Nie Huaisang’s mouth twitched in an almost-smile. “When we were in Yi City, he really was nice to everyone, checked those that had gotten poisoned, and encouraged them to eat some congee even if it tasted awful. If it had been me, I’d just have scolded them into eating it! And some of the others with us were scolding their poisoned friends, because we were all worried, but he took time to reassure others, even if he had to be worried too. I mean, his dad was out there fighting stuff, of course he was worried!”

Nie Huaisang made a face at the mention of Yi City, and quickly opened his fan to hide behind. Jin Ling only remembered then that if he and his friends had almost died in that place, it might have been because of this man sitting across from him. It was a really odd thing to think, and if Wei Wuxian in person hadn’t made the accusation, if Jiang Cheng hadn’t later told Jin Ling that the whole thing made sense… how could Nie Huaisang have had the guts to do that, when he was too much of a coward to meet Jin Ling’s eyes when he mentioned this?

“I suppose he’s been raised a little better than most boys his age,” Nie Huaisang conceded,fanning himself just a little too quickly. “An effect of growing up around Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, both excellent role models, except for their taste in friends. So you love a beautiful young man who is kind to everyone, hm?”

“Well…”

It was Jin Ling’s turn to avert his eyes, his cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment.

“Well, it’s also that he’s not always sweet,” he muttered, before quickly emptying his tea to give himself a countenance.

“How so?” Nie Huaisang asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. He even closed his fan, as if to better focus on what Jin Ling had to say.

“Well. Well, you see, after that whole thing in Jinlin Tai, when Wei Wuxian accused my uncle of murder, and my aunt died, and then me and a bunch of juniors were kidnapped, right?” Jin Ling asked. Nie Huaisang grimaced again. Right, this too was kind of his fault, wasn’t it? “And even then Sizhui was so nice when we were held in that cave, and trying to comfort everyone! But also… Well. I have this very annoying cousin, you see? And he was acting awful, and Sizhui had been patient and patient and patient, but in the end… well, in the end he snapped, and I think if he hadn’t been tied up, he would have slapped Jin Chan in the face.”

Even after this long, the memory of Lan Sizhui’s righteous fury still made Jin Ling’s heart beat a little faster. That it had happened because his cousin had been pestering him was just a nice bonus.

“And also, he tries to hide it, but he’s a little proud,” Jin Ling added. “He really, really likes being praised. His face completely lights up when Hanguang-Jun says he’s done good, and he’s almost glowing whenever Wei Wuxian compliments him and says he’s a good boy and all that. And then when someone says something mean to him, his face does that thing…”

Jin Ling tried to scrunch his own face into an approximation of Lan Sizhui’s expression. He didn’t have a great talent for impressions, but it was still good enough for Nie Huaisang to let out a snort. He then tried to cover it by coughing a few times, but Jin Ling knew what he’d heard.

“It’s never for very long,” Jin Ling resumed, “but I noticed it and it’s just. I guess he wouldn’t like me to call it that, but it’s really cute. I just wish I didn’t keep saying the wrong thing to make him make that face, you know? I want to watch it, not cause it.”

“At least you have self awareness,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “That’s more than several members of your family could ever have said. You’ll just have to learn how to turn a weakness into a strength. Now, tell me, what have you tried to make Lan Sizhui aware of your interest in him?”

Jin Ling, suddenly, desperately wished he had some tea left in his glass, just so he could pretend to drink it instead of facing that question. He ended up turning the empty glass between his hands and staring down at the table, feeling Nie Huaisang’s silence get more and more judgemental the longer it took Jin Ling to answer.

“I see,” Nie Huaisang said after a while.

“You don’t see anything! I just want us to be good friends first, and then…”

Jin Ling trailed off, and toyed some more with his empty glass.

“Fine, then what have you done to become his friend then?” Nie Huaisang insisted, amusement piercing through his voice.

“Well, he hasn’t been around much those last few months,” Jin Ling muttered. “But, well, I went with him on Night Hunts twice before someone killed my uncle, so there’s that. And then he came home not too long ago, and we went on another Night Hunt with everyone! And then…” He sighed, deeply. “And then I said something wrong, and I think I accidentally insulted him, and I haven’t seen him since then and I can’t see him until I figure out how to do things right!”

Nie Huaisang hummed, but didn’t say anything right away. When Jin Ling risked a glance, he found the older man looking at him the way one might inspect a horse before buying it. Jin Ling didn’t particularly care for that. It felt so wrong for Nie Huaisang to have such an intense, calculating expression on his face, making him look miles away from the blundering fool who had bothered Jin Ling’s uncle for years and years.

When Nie Huaisang looked like that, it became too easy that he had done all those terrible things Wei Wuxian had accused him of.

“It’s true that you have a certain gift for saying exactly what people don’t want to hear,” Nie Huaisang stated, fanning himself slowly. “You’re impulsive, that’s your problem, and your uncles both failed you in that regard. It’d be hard to go against your own nature in the best of case, but they've done nothing to help you understand your own temper. I suppose we’ll have to work with it. Have you ever considered taking up a correspondence with Lan Sizhui?”

Jin Ling shook his head. “It’s… isn’t it risky? My uncles have always told me if I start liking someone, I shouldn’t leave traces. There’s always a risk of blackmail, if the other person doesn’t feel the same. Not that Sizhui would ever do that! But, well… Letters can fall into the wrong hands, and because of my grandfather I know people watch me more than other boys my age in case... well...”

“I’m not telling you to write him erotic letters,” Nie Huaisang said with a mocking sneer. “Not yet anyway, and I could teach you a trick or two about keeping those secrets. But simple, polite letters... it’s a good way to stay in touch with a friend, and it would let you think more carefully about what you’re saying, and how you’re saying it.”

“Oh.”

That did sound wise. Even Jiang Cheng was a little less abrasive when writing than in person, and Jin Ling was fairly sure he wasn’t as bad as his uncle. That might be worth trying.

“Another piece of advice,” Nie Huaisang continued, fanning himself with slow, nearly hypnotic movements. “Own up to your faults. Admit to your little friend that you’re aware your mouth goes faster than your brain, and that you often realise too late you said something bad. You could even tell him that you’d appreciate his guidance in correcting this. Gusu Lan disciples love that sort of things, they’re all raised to become teachers. Offer yourself as a student and the fight is half won already.”

“You’re sure?”

“How do you think I even got Lan Xichen to notice me? ‘Please Xichen-gege, please tutor me’,” Nie Huaisang whined in a high pitched voice, his bottom lip trembling for a moment, before his pathetic pout turned into a disgusted grimace as he closed his fan with a sharp gesture. “I think the Lan like a desperate case, so you should have your chance.”

That was a very rude thing to say, but Jin Ling could hardly disagree. Nie Huaisang was a complete mess, that much was clear. And as for Wei Wuxian, the less said, the better. Yet those two absolute disasters had, apparently, managed to seduce the two top cultivators of Gusu Lan, nay, of the entire cultivation world, who surely could have had their pick of competent and emotionally capable partners of any gender.

Jin Ling hated that it did make him feel a little more hopeful.

“Well, that’s all my advice for today,” Nie Huaisang announced, before glancing with disgust at the pile of paperwork he’d set aside earlier. “I have to do my own work these days and it takes a while, so I’d appreciate it if you left. I know etiquette dictates I should invite you to spend the night here,” he added, “but I really don’t feel like it, and I don’t suppose you’d enjoy it either. Who could say if I wouldn’t change my mind and murder you in your sleep, right?”

Nie Huaisang laughed at his own joke, earning an unimpressed stare from Jin Ling for his poor taste in humour.

It probably was a joke. 

Right?

Just to be a pest, Jin Ling considered forcing the issue and demanding to be given a room. But Nie Huaisang had guessed right in suspecting that Jin Ling didn’t quite trust him enough to make himself vulnerable in his domain. Not only that, but if he stayed, poor Ouyang Zizhen might start worrying about him, and either try to storm the Unclean Realm on his own, or worse fly toward the Lotus Piers and get Jiang Cheng to storm the Unclean Realm, by far the worst possible option because then Jin Ling would have two other sect leaders furious at him.

“I’ll leave,” he conceded, which made Nie Huaisang smirk. “But can I come back tomorrow, and show you my letter? Just to make sure I’m not writing anything too awful.”

“I would say no,” Nie Huaisang sighed, “but I have a feeling you’ll just do as you please anyway, so I might as well pretend I have any control over this. Yes, come back tomorrow, why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do. Try to be here at the same hour as today, and I should be able to make time for you.”

Jin Ling promised. Nie Huaisang then called for a servant to bring Jin Ling back to the gate so he wouldn’t get lost. The distrust, apparently, was mutual.

Once out of the Unclean Realm, Jin Ling lost no time in returning to Qinghe proper, and there he headed straight for the inn where Ouyang Zizhen awaited his return with much anxiety. The poor boy nearly cried of relief when he saw Jin Ling enter the inn. In fairness though, he was just that sort of a person so Jin Ling told himself he hadn’t caused his friend any actual worry. Still, he made sure to buy the best food the inn had to offer, and some wine as well, just to thank Ouyang Zizhen for having come along.

While they had lunch in the privacy of their room, Jin Ling reported his success, and shared the advice given to him. Jin Ling had told Ouyang Zizhen that he’d gone to Nie Huaisang in particular because he used to be friends with Lan Xichen and thus knew Lan Sizhui, an explanation that seemed to be accepted without further questions. 

Jin Ling couldn’t help thinking that Lan Sizhui would have asked for more details about that. He was curious and observant, surely he might have picked up on something wrong with Jin Ling’s lie. Then again, with gossip forbidden, he might not have said anything.

Someday, Jin Ling wouldn’t have to speculate. Lan Sizhui and him would be married, and happy, and they would share everything, unlike some people, so Lan Sizhui wouldn’t even have to pick up clues to know things.

With this goal in mind, Jin Ling started drafting a letter as soon as he was done eating. His first attempt was predictably awful, but to Jin Ling’s surprise, he actually realised that on his own, even before Ouyang Zizhen could check it. Maybe Nie Huaisang had been on to something about it being easier to deal with his temper and lack of social skills on paper. So Jin Ling drafted a second letter, and then a third, while Ouyang Zizhen sat by, reading over his shoulder and occasionally offering his opinion.

By the fifth draft, Jin Ling felt he was starting to get the hang of this.

“I just can’t believe you got him to agree,” Ouyang Zizhen said while glancing at his letter again. “I mean, Nie zongzhu! You’ve said that Wei Wuxian said that he’s the one who got your uncle killed, right? So… are you really sure it’s not a trap?”

Jin Ling chewed on the end of his brush, trying to remember how to write a certain character, and shrugged.

“I’m not sure it isn’t. A trap, I mean.”

“And you’re still going back tomorrow?” Ouyang Zizhen gasped. “He’s given you advice, and good one at that, isn’t it enough?”

Jin Ling shrugged again, and wrote down another sentence.

His friend wasn’t wrong to find him unwise. Nie Huaisang was dangerous, there was no denying it, and he certainly wasn’t nice, that was certain as well. But if Nie Huaisang had been as awful as he pretended to be, he wouldn’t have listened to Jin Ling at all, wouldn’t have talked so fondly about Jin Zixuan, wouldn’t have gotten so upset at the thought of Lan Xichen’s reputation being ruined any further.

Nie Huaisang wasn’t nice, but he probably wasn’t that bad either. No more than other people in Jin Ling’s life, anyway, and at least he didn't shout as much as Jiang Cheng did.

“If I don’t go back, he’ll think I’m scared,” Jin Ling claimed.

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Even if I were, I wouldn’t want him to know that. Anyway, I think I’m done, can you read it?”

Ouyang Zizhen obeyed, and agreed it was about as good as it could get without getting too awkward. It didn’t need to be perfect, anyway. Jin Ling had a feeling that Nie Huaisang would enjoy having something to criticize. So he put away his letter, and went out to explore Qinghe with Ouyang Zizhen, forgetting his love troubles for a little while. They had great fun, and Jin Ling only wished a few times that he could have been doing this with Lan Sizhui instead.

Soon, he would.

-

Come morning, Jin Ling dutiful returned to the gate of the Unclean Realm. Just like before the disciples guarding the entrance stared him down in disapproval, but this time they let him in almost immediately, and Jin Ling was again led by Qinghe Nie’s first disciple toward Nie Huaisang’s office. This time there was already tea waiting for him when he got there, and the pile of paperwork on Nie Huaisang’s desk looked a good deal smaller and neater. Either he had worked hard to free some time, or he had hidden away anything sensitive to make sure Jin Ling wouldn’t get too curious. Jin Ling figured he would have done the same, and decided to take no offence.

Instead, he put a small pouch of candies on the desk, by the teapot. Nie Huaisang threw him a sharp look for that but pinched his lips so he wouldn't ask any questions. Jin Ling sat down and shrugged.

“You used to bring those to Jinlin Tai when I was little, even if nobody but you would eat them. I figured you had to like them, and since you’re helping me and all…”

“I see good memory runs in the family,” Nie Huaisang noted, glaring at the candies yet making no movement to take one. As if Jin Ling would have poisoned him. It was a coward’s method of murder, Jiang Cheng always said, and Jin Ling was no coward. “Did you write a letter, Jin zongzhu?”

“I did,” Jin Ling confirmed, digging into his sleeve for the latest draft which he handed to Nie Huaisang. “I think it’s pretty good.”

In answer Nie Huaisang just rolled his eyes, and started reading. Jin Ling realised he was getting nervous, as if that odd man’s approval actually mattered in any way. To distract himself he drank some tea, and helped himself to a few candies. They were pretty much nothing but sugar, which made his teeth ache. How could anyone enjoy something like that? Maybe Nie Huaisang had just wanted to be a pest back then, bothering everyone with shitty candies.

“It’s acceptable,” Nie Huaisang said at last, returning the letter to Jin Ling. “Not great, but a clear improvement over the things you tend to say in person.”

“I can rewrite it again,” Jin Ling muttered, disappointed that all his efforts got him so little praise. “If you show me what to change…”

“No, the imperfections are necessary,” Nie Huaisang explained, opening his fan. “If it is too polished, it will be obvious that you’re not writing alone. It really isn’t so bad, anyway. Better than when your father… well, nevermind that. You’re not doing so bad. And inviting him to a Night Hunt is smart, I’m surprised you thought of it.”

“You don’t think it’s too bold?” Jin Ling asked.

“He’s a Lan, they don’t see Night Hunts as a prelude to flirtation,” Nie Huaisang said, before grimacing. “I wish I’d known that when I was young, actually. So don’t hope for anything more than a pleasant moment with a friend. Well, pleasant if you enjoy Night Hunting, which apparently some people do.”

Jin Ling huffed. Of course he liked Night Hunting. Any decent cultivator did. But of course, Nie Huaisang was hardly a decent cultivator, no matter how you looked at it, and his dislike of Night Hunts was no big secret. He only showed up if he had absolutely no choice, Jin Guangyao used to complain, and then he was such a hindrance that everyone would have been better off without him, especially poor Lan Xichen who’d had to rescue him more than once.

But still Nie Huaisang would go and try, Jin Ling remembered. He didn’t enjoy it, but he tried, at least if Lan Xichen was also present. And Lan Xichen did look happy about that, whenever it happened. Really happy, instead of just polite.

It really was too bad that these two had fallen out like that, because they’d seemed to have a good influence on each other, aside from the one murder. Not that any of this was Jin Ling’s business, of course, and he presently held little affection for either man.

And yet...

“Since we’re on the topic of letters. Have you ever thought of writing to Zewu-Jun?” Jin Ling asked, because if it were him having such a huge argument with someone he loved, maybe he would want someone to butt in and help. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d want it. “Because maybe…”

“I have written to Gusu Lan a few times on official business,” Nie Huaisang coldly cut him, closing his fan with a snap. “Aside from this, I have no reason to correspond with anyone there.”

“But maybe you could…”

“I have nothing to say to Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang explained, reopening his fan with an impatient flourish. “You see, I am not sorry for what I’ve done,” he said with a cruel smile. “Your uncle deserved to die. He was an awful man, who did awful things, and if I’d truly had my way, he would have died an awful death.”

Jin Ling, who’d thought that losing an arm, being stabbed by his closest friend, and then having his neck snapped by the enraged fierce corpse of one of his victims only to be trapped with said fierce corpse for a century to suffer untold torment had been a pretty awful way to die already, couldn’t help a frown.

He made a decision to never ask Nie Huaisang what he would have preferred to see happen to Jin Guangyao.

“I know what Lan Xichen wants to hear from me,” Nie Huaisang continued, fanning himself. “He most likely wants me to say that I’m sorry. And I could say it. I’m a very good liar, if I do say so myself. So I could lie to him, say exactly what he wants to hear, be exactly the man he wants me to be…” He paused and grimaced in disgust. “But in that case, I would just have turned into another Jin Guangyao.”

“And you don’t want to become like him.”

“I am like him,” Nie Huaisang snapped with such rage that Jin Ling jumped on his seat. “I can’t change that now. I am a good liar, but I’ve decided long ago I wouldn’t lie to myself, and I know what I am. As for Lan Xichen, in spite of his blindness, in spite of his errors, he deserves better than to fall prey to another liar. And that’s why I cannot…”

“You really should write to him,” Jin Ling insisted. “And tell him all that stuff. I mean, since you don’t have regrets and you know you're an asshole, then it’s no big deal telling him things as they are, right? And then at least he gets to know the full truth. You old people really should be more honest instead of making everything complicated all the time.”

Nie Huaisang glared at him, as cold and angry as he’d been the day before, but Jin Ling realised it was already starting to lose its effect on him. It wasn’t so different from when Jiang Cheng threatened to break his legs over every single little annoyance.

Well, it was a little different in that Jin Ling still wasn’t sure Nie Huaisang wouldn’t murder him if he was certain to get away with it, but it was still the same general sentiment.

Jin Ling didn’t even mind that Nie Huaisang impatiently ordered him to leave, grumbling about disrespectful children, time wasted on educating idiotic youths, and how he refused to be involved in this any further. This, too, Jin Ling had heard before from his uncle, and he’d learned to ignore it all.

If the letter and the Night Hunt didn’t work, Jin Ling knew for sure he could come and ask for Nie Huaisang’s help again.

[buckleyirondad]

Evan Begins Again

With the help of his family, Buck learns to love himself, flaws and all - which starts with reclaiming his given name.

Read on AO3

Words: 4436

Warnings: Mentions of past Self-Hate, Brief Injury Detail (on a call)

It starts with Eddie, but these things usually do.

Buck wishes he could be like Eddie, somebody who can freely speak his mind without fearing the fall.

When Eddie has something to say, he makes Buck listen, even if it's not something he wants to hear.

Discovering that he would become Christopher's legal guardian if his best friend dies prematurely was unexpected, but Buck welcomes it. 

The lengths he is willing to go for Christopher are infinite; he loves that kid like his own.

Strangely, that part of the conversation isn't what stuck or what keeps him up at night.

Being told that he's not expendable with such certainty, after a lifetime of believing that's all he is, has put his mind in a spin.

Maddie's told him that before, so has Bobby, Athena, Hen, Chimney, Albert, Taylor - everybody he cares about has, at one point, has told him that he's worth fighting for.

That wasn't anything new, but it's the way Eddie went about saying it, "Because, Evan, you came in here the other day, and you said you thought it would have been better if it had been you who was shot. You act like you're expendable. But you're wrong."

Evan.

Buck hates when people use his given name - well, at least he thought he did.

Hate wouldn't explain the warmth that spread across his chest when Eddie spoke his name, with just the right amount of love, with an unmistakable tinge of sass.

Aside from Maddie, whenever anybody says his name, he recoils like he's been burnt. He remembers his childhood, being reprimanded by his parents for his reckless behavior or called out by his teachers.

Whenever 'Evan' is used in a sentence, it isn't usually followed by words of affirmation.

Even with Maddie, she's adapted to using 'Buck' when she's proud of him or telling him how much she loves him. Emotions are high whenever she says, 'Evan,' like when he learned about Daniel.

"Evan, please don't leave. Just talk to me."

He talks to Dr. Copeland, and it's almost too easy for her to identify the problem.

'Buck' is meant to be a nickname, but it's bigger than that; it's a shield, a smokescreen, an excuse to hide his true feelings.

He separates himself into two; Buck gets to live while Evan suffers the weight of his hardships.

He can't keep doing that.

He has to face this problem, learn to love every piece of himself, even if it hurts.

If he doesn't, it will kill him.

Because one day, and soon, he'll become tired of 'Buck.'

The same way he did with Evan, then he'll be well and truly lost.

Things need to change.

***

It's a slow day, nobody's said anything to jinx that, yet, but the night is still young.

Athena has a day off; she's popped over like most Wednesdays, having helped Bobby with dinner.

Maddie surprises them all, dropping by with an excitable Jee-Yun.

Eddie and Chimney carry the stroller up the stairs while she holds Jee-Yun on her hip.

Taking his niece into his arms, Buck asks his sister, "How are you?"

The light in her eyes is brighter than the last time he saw her, "I'm better."

Buck sports his lopsided grin, "Good."

Jee-Yun jumps from person to person, delighted to be surrounded by her favorite people.

They settle on the couches; Jee-Yun stops on Maddie's lab, hit by the tired stick.

Buck sits, sandwiched between Bobby and Athena.

Maddie relaxes into the recliner while Chim perches on the chair's arm as he converses with Hen.

Hen and Eddie share a couch but have claimed separate ends; she sits nearer Chimney, busy discussing kindergarten admissions, which Buck can't believe, Jee-Yun's barely one.

Eddie is at the other end, listening to one of Athena's work stories.

Buck knows he should be involved, but he's lost track of where they were.

Everybody's conversations reach their natural ends - Buck leans in.

"Hey," He croaks - that's odd, his throat is tight, and he didn't realize.

All eyes are on him.

He fumbles with his fingers, "Can I ask you all something?"

Chimney shuffles forward, "Of course."

"Is everything okay?" Hen asks, eyes tracing over him.

Buck dips his head, "Yeah."

Athena takes his hand, "It doesn't sound it."

He insists, "Everything's fine."

"So," Eddie speaks gently, "What's up?"

Buck wonders if Eddie will catch on and understand that everything is changing because he is the first person in years, to remind Evan that he is worthy of love.

He clears his throat, "I want you to call me 'Evan.'"

The request is met by silence and pinched expressions of confusion.

"I'm still Buck," He blurts, "That's my nickname, always gonna be, but I was hoping that we could, like, switch between the two?"

"Okay," Bobby is cautiously gentle, "We can do that."

"It might take some adjustment time," Hen adds, "But of course, we can."

A weight shifts, "Cool, thanks."

"So, what's with the change?" Chimney asks, "I thought you hated your name?"

"I thought I did," He nervously rubs the nape of his neck, and his leg begins to bounce.

"Hey," Maddie sits up, startled, "You don't have to explain-"

Buck shakes his head, "You guys need to hear this."

Bobby presses his hand to Buck's knee, attempting to ease him.

"Talking with Dr. Copeland, I realized that in becoming Buck, I was trying to forget everything that came before," Buck explains, "It should just be a nickname, but it's not - it's a coping mechanism."

He locks eyes with a tearful Maddie, but she smiles with a nod, urging him to go on.

It's once in a blue moon when Buck opens up about how he's feeling.

"I can pretend that every bad thing that happened to me as Evan never happened," He continues, "Shitty childhood, bad friends, and Daniel..."

Everybody shifts uncomfortably on that note, especially Maddie, who draws her daughter closer to her chest.

Buck lifts his shoulders in a shrug, "But it doesn't work like that."

"No, it doesn't," Maddie speaks, quiet, "Those things leave a scar, Evan."

Hen speaks up, "An open one."

"I've never hated my name," Evan's lower lip trembles, "I hated me."

He expects pity or concerned gasps, but instead, he's offered understanding nods and intense gazes filled with love.

"I separate 'Evan' and 'Buck,' but they're both me," He cries, "Like with Buck, I've grown, changed for the better, have the family I've always wanted," Tears spill down his cheeks, "But Evan is buried, and I need to find me, again."

Maddie asks, "Because you feel loved as Buck but forgotten as Evan?"

He nods, "Yeah."

"Evan," Hen cries, her eyes wet with tears, "We love you completely."

Athena's gentle fingers grasp Evan's chin, her mouth curls into a smile, as tears freely fall, "Without a single string attached."

Buck breaths, "You promise?"

"We promise," Bobby reassures fast.

With a strangled sob, Evan crumbles, his shoulders sagging.

Bobby dives, collecting him in his arms.

Athena combs her hand through his hair.

Everybody moves, crowding him, in a hug.

Eddie kneels, gripping onto Evan's knee with all his strength, wrapping his arm around Hen, crouched beside him.

Hen grips onto Buck's forearm, her stance protective.

Chimney stands behind, hands resting on Buck's trembling shoulders.

Maddie takes the space beside Hen, taking Evan's hand, while she balances a half-asleep, confused, Jee-Yun on her knee.

Eddie speaks - his tone strong, "You're going to be okay, Evan."

***

It takes a month for the change to stick without the aura of awkwardness.

It is easy to get tongue-tied - in the beginning, there were many 'Buc-vans' and 'Ev-uk's,' but, at least he knew, they were trying.

After a couple of false starts, interchanging between 'Evan' and 'Buck' is set to stay.

Evan is sure that he's never been happier.

He stops over for dinner at Bobby and Athena's on Thursday nights.

While they're washing up, he gathers his shoes, slipping them on; he tries to be quiet, considering May's already in bed.

It's nearing midnight; he doesn't want to overstay his welcome.

"I better head home," Buck whispers, "Early start tomorrow."

"We have a free bed, you know?" Athena asks, gathering empty glasses off the dinner table, "Since Harry's with Michael."

"I wouldn't wanna intrude," He bends to do his laces

"Buckaroo, we invited you, remember?" Athena tells him, "Your apartment is almost an hour away—time you could spend sleeping."

Buck stops what he is doing and sighs with a grin; he knows exactly where this is heading.

"We're heading into a twenty-four shift, Evan," Bobby speaks warmly, "We'd feel better if you stayed."

Buck slips off his shoes, "I'll stay."

Athena shoots a smile in Bobby's direction, "There should be some pajamas for you in the drawers, the second row down," She instructs, "Your toothbrush is in the medicine cabinet."

"Thank you," Evan skips up the stairs, "Goodnight."

***

The following morning, Buck is woken by his seasonal allergies.

He's survived a truck explosion, a pulmonary embolism, and a tsunami, but hayfever still sucks.

He snags an antihistamine from their medicine cabinet and creeps into the kitchen, careful not to make any noise.

May's left for work - there's a note on the table explaining that she'll be late home as she's checking out her new apartment with Michael.

Buck's downing his second glass of water when Athena steps out of her bedroom, "Buck?" She questions, "You're up early."

Evan rubs his eyes, "Allergies."

Athena rests a hand on his back as she opens the fridge door, "You need an antihistamine?" He asks, "May's a sufferer too, so we're stocked up."

"I took one," He smiles - uncertain, "Sorry, I didn't ask."

Athena fixes him with her parental glare as she tuts with a laugh, "Evan, you don't have to ask," She assures, "This is your home too."

Evan stares at her, mouth dropping open, "Thanks."

His mother's words ring in his head; You're under our roof, Evan, so you have to respect our rules.

Growing up, his parents never once referred to their house as his home.

Athena pats his arm, "Come on, you're helping me with breakfast."

"Of course," He claps his hands together, "Where do you need me?"

***

Being called 'Evan' again by those he trusts is second nature, almost like things have never been any different.

Buck struggles to see the floor as he heads into May's new apartment, box in his arms, "Hey, May," He calls, "This box isn't labeled."

She rolls her eyes, "It is, but Dad covered it with tape," She tries to peel the corners off, "Again."

Michael defends, "I'm cautious."

"And I'll be spending the next two weeks trying to cut free my possessions," May taunts; she taps the top of the box, "Bedroom."

Buck nods, "Gotcha."

She smiles, "Thanks, Ev."

Warmth spreads over Evan's chest, he smiles, hanging his head; well and truly caught up in the euphoria of acceptance.

His pseudo-sister was the first to try 'Ev.'

It works. Buck loves it.

"Buck, can you help me in the kitchen when you're done?" Athena calls, "I'm gonna your help with these latches."

"Sure!" He places the box on the floor and turns into the kitchen.

Chimney, who is in the middle of constructing a bookshelf with David, turns, "Oh no, brace yourself," He taunts, "Fire Marshall Buckley is back!"

Buck remains straight-faced, "Ha."

"Why do I need these, Mom?" May quizzes, "I'm not a kid."

"We have around ten thousand earthquakes a year," Evan explains; he grabs the latches, "Things get broken. This is an added safety," He points to the windows, "Especially this high up."

May narrows her eyes, "So, what I'm hearing is that this was your idea, not Mom's?"

Buck nods, "I suggested it."

Athena squeezes his shoulder, "I accepted the suggestion."

May bops her head, "Oh, I see."

"Buck's got an eye for safety," Bobby praises.

Eddie walks in with May's ironing board, "Which is saying something."

Buck glares, "You're so funny."

Michael walks over, "Thank you, Evan," He says, all actively ignoring Eddie and Chimney's mischievous laughter, "Earthquakes aren't a thing I considered."

"You're not gonna remember everything," Evan holds up the latches, "If you want, I could set some of these up at your place."

"That would be wonderful."

Athena sports a fond smile, "It's like having our own personal handyman."

Buck jokes, "Well, if that's the case, you can all pay me."

***

Buck lays on his front, across Maddie and Chimney's carpeted ground, his eyes fixed on his niece.

She's busy chomping down on one of her many toys, but she stares at him with her wide brown eyes, fixated on his face, much like he is on hers.

Sometimes, even thirteen months into her life, he can't believe that his sister, and one of his closest friends, came together to make a human being.

"How can somebody be this cute?"

Maddie steps over, "Oh my, God," She laughs fondly, "She's covered in drool."

"That's fine," Buck gathers a cloth, wiping it over Jee's face, "She's still adorable, aren't you?"

Jee-Yun throws her hands in the air, "Yeah!"

"Yeah," Evan repeats, bopping her nose.

"Should I be worried about you two?" Maddie asks, sitting on the couch, "You're gonna be partners in crime."

"Just wait until we join forces with Christopher," He scoops his niece onto his knee, "It will be over for all of you."

"What is it about you, Evan?" Maddie asks, "The way she looks at you - the way everybody looks at you, it's like-"

He asks, curious, "Like what?"

"I don't know," She tilts her head, "Like you're the key to the mysteries of the universe."

He barks a laugh, "Maybe, I am."

Maddie grabs her book from the coffee table, "Chim thinks you're a trained hypnotist."

"No comment."

Maddie throws her head back with a laugh.

Buck turns to Jee, "Where's my nose?"

She reaches up, grabbing his nose.

"That's right!" He praises, "You're a genius."

Jee-Yun blabbers, "Ev-an!"

Maddie sits bolt upright, "Did she just?"

Jee-Yun knows a couple of words - Ma, Dada, No, Yes, but she's hasn't ventured any further.

Jee-Yun swings her arms around, "Evan!"

Oh, and he melts, a delighted cry catching in his throat.

His teary eyes meet Maddie's.

Every time someone utters his given name, Evan is one step closer to the light.

With Jee-Yun's soft squeal, he's out - the darkness now, a distant memory.

"Yes," He holds her up, "That's me!"

***

By Halloween, Evan barely notices the change - it goes to show how fantastic his family is.

He fishes out the insides of a pumpkin, humming 'This is Halloween' under his breath.

Hen's amused look bores into him.

He shakes his hands, "This is fun."

"How?" She laughs, "I once had my hand inside a man's chest, and somehow, this is worse."

Buck reclines his head with a laugh; he grabs a cloth, drying his hands.

"Hey, Evan!" Chimney sings from downstairs, "I need you and your abnormal height!"

"Again?!" Buck hollers back, not dropping his grin, "Chim, this is borderline exploitation!"

Hen bows her head, chuckling.

Buck hears the ladder being pulled out.

Hen raises her eyebrows, "You better go, Buck, or we'll be taking him to the emergency room."

"Oh," Buck runs, "Stop it, Chim, I'm coming!"

***

Buck's definition of a perfect weekend is spending it with the Diaz Boys - teasing Eddie endlessly and sneaking treats with Christopher, even though they both know that Eddie sees what they're doing.

Evan was apprehensive when Eddie suggested they took a trip to the carnival - rollercoasters, and crowds - reminded him too much of the calm before the tsunami.

He agrees to go - 'exposure therapy,' Eddie calls it, and Buck knows he's right.

It's okay, and they have a ton of fun.

Buck wins one too many prizes for Christopher, which Eddie ends up carrying, along with Christopher's crutches, but he doesn't complain.

It's easy to understand why Christopher wants to hold Buck's hand - he remembers the day at the Pier, too.

Knowing that the ocean is an hour away helps because at least that's not a natural disaster that could stop them in their tracks.

Thanks to the pandemic restrictions, there are fewer people, which eases the pressure further.

Sunset was almost two hours ago, and Christopher keeps yawning in-between words.

Without a second thought, Buck kneels, holding out his hands, "Here we go, buddy."

Christopher shuffles forward, tucking his face against Evan's shoulder.

Buck gathers him, letting Christopher tangle his legs around his middle before getting up, "There we go, I've got you."

Eddie smiles fondly, "We should head back to the car."

"Yeah," Buck sings, patting Christopher's back, "Which way is it?"

Eddie points, "That way, I think," He darts his head around, "Hopefully."

Buck snorts a laugh, "We'll find it, eventually."

Christopher is ten, he usually doesn't like being carried around anymore, but he settles in Buck's grasp, content.

Buck fears the day that they won't be able to scoop him up - he knows that anxiety is doubled, in Eddie's case.

"You okay with him?" Eddie whispers.

"Of course," Buck grins, "I'm legal guardian material."

Eddie scoffs a laugh, shaking his head.

"He's getting taller recently," Buck comments, "It's insane."

"Usually what happens with kids, Buck," Eddie teases.

"Ha, ha," Buck replies, monotone.

"Dad, Buck...." Christopher shushes, "I'm sleeping," He mutters.

Eddie bits his lip to conceal a laugh, "Sorry, bud."

"We'll keep it down," Buck adds, tapping his back.

Christopher tightens his arms around Evan, his head lulling on his shoulder.

"You okay there, bud?" Buck asks.

"Yeah," Christopher breaths sleepily, "You're comfy."

"Well, thank you."

Christopher goes quiet, and for a moment, Buck thinks he's fallen asleep, but then he speaks, "Love you, Evan."

Evan's breath catches sharply; he tightens his grasp, "Love you too, kid."

His family, Buck can't quite believe his luck - they're perfect, in every sense of the word.

***

Unfortunately, not every use of his given name comes at a happy time, but that would be beside the point.

'Buck,' 'Evan,' and even 'Buckaroo,' - they need to be used, freely, no matter the time of the day or what is happening. It helps; it means that he can't associate any of them with a particular emotion or trauma.

Evan scouts the roof of a decrepit apartment complex - that is, according to dispatch, set for demolition, but they've received calls about somebody being trapped on the top floor.

Time hasn't been kind to the structure, narrowing their time for a search and rescue.

So, starting from the roof and working down seems like the best bet.

Buck steps towards the door, the foundation creaks, dangerously loud under his foot.

He grabs Hen's low-hanging wrist as the roof gives way below them.

He doesn't remember what happens next.

With the dangerous nature of their jobs - Evan's name and all the possible variations are often uttered in worry.

He blurts awake with desperate rapid breaths; every ache and pain catches up with his concussed mind, "Hen?"

Hen's panicked voice cautions, "Buck don't move!"

The light is low, but he can see, despite the abundance of dust particles.

His back rests against debris; he can tell by the throbbing pain in his biceps that he didn't land in the position he was in, more likely manhandled into place.

He doesn't want to consider the time that Hen spent alone, waiting for him to wake, "Hen," He repeats - desperate.

"I'm here."

He lifts his head, "Are you hurt?"

She crawls into view, hauling her gear along with her, "I'm fine," She promises.

He traces his eyes over her - she's got a couple of scratches, but nothing too worrying, "We both fell?" He asks, confused.

"Yeah," She seems guilty, "But I was lucky."

"Why?"

She presses her fingers to his pulse point, "I had a soft landing."

"Yeah?"

"You."

"Oh," He laughs at the absurdity, "I'm an excellent crash mat."

She glares, "That's not funny."

"It kind of is," He offers her his dopiest smile, "Glad I saved you."

"Thank you," She kisses his forehead, "Now, stay awake."

His eyelids are heavy, "What about the victim?"

"Dead," She sighs.

Buck changes the subject, "What's wrong with me?"

"Broken arm," She lists, "Some blunt force trauma, and—" Her throat cracks; she can't say it.

"And?"

"Ruptured spleen," She sniffles, "I think."

Buck mutters, small, "Oh, that's not good."

She grips his hand, "All you've gotta do is stay awake, okay?"

He tries, but his eyes are heavy.

"Evan," She grabs his chin, "Please don't close your eyes."

"Hen."

"You're not dying on me," She orders, "I won't let you."

He smiles, weak, "Okay."

"I'm right here," She vows, "I'm not going anywhere."

He praises, "You're gonna be a great doctor."

"I know," She tells him, "You don't need to tell me that now, though."

"I have to, just—"

"Zip it, Buckaroo," She snaps lovingly, "We're getting out of here, you hear me? You're gonna help plan my surprise party when I graduate, and then we're gonna get drunk together."

"I'd like that."

She presses their foreheads together, "Just stay awake."

"I will."

***

Buck knows he's far too comfortable in hospitals; he is familiar with the staff and can easily snag an extra pudding at mealtimes, thanks to an older nurse who first treated him following his emergency tracheotomy and had on every subsequent visit.

Still, despite the laughs he has, he can't wait to escape - back to normality.

He folds his LAFD hoodie when Eddie swings inside, hand grasping the doorframe, "You ready?"

Buck turns his head, "Did you grab my meds?" He asks.

Eddie holds up a clear bag, "Right here."

"Thanks."

Eddie steps inside to place the medication into Buck's backpack; he then takes over, zipping up the bag.

Evan hums a laugh, "I can do that, you know?"

"I know," Eddie prods Buck's shoulder, "But we wouldn't want you to throw your stitches."

Buck perches on the bed, "Hen would kill me."

"Hen would kill us," Eddie corrects, "Mainly me."

Evan snorts, "Why?"

"I'm in charge of keeping you in line, apparently," He chuckles.

Buck hangs his head as he laughs, rubbing at the nape of his neck.

Eddie's tone turns sincere, "Are you alright?"

Buck's okay - really. The pain medication is doing its job, and he barely feels the ache in his side - what's on his mind is more complicated than that.

Eddie grips his shoulder, "Buck?" He fixes him with a concerned glance, "What's going on?"

He shrugs, "It's complicated."

Eddie sits, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I almost died," Buck lets go of a breathless laugh, "Again."

Eddie holds a hand in front of his face, failing miserably to hide a grin.

Buck's eyes widen, "What's so funny?"

"Sorry," He moves his hand away, "Just déjà vu - but last time, this was the other way around."

"It was," Buck confirms - the conversation is falling in the direction he needs it to go, "When you told me about your attorney and Christopher, I was scared. I never thought that anybody would trust me as much as you do; Christopher is your life, your everything, and I'm just me."

"You're you," Eddie repeats, softly stern, "That's why I made the decision."

Buck's shoulders sag, "I know."

"You fight for what you believe in, Buck, and you've never once stopped fighting for him," Eddie starts, "You almost killed yourself trying to find him during the tsunami," He takes a breath, "Hen told me about the well collapse; how one of the only words they could get out of you was Christopher's name. Your concern for him became your priority, even when he wasn't in any danger. I knew, then, that it was you because if I had died that day, you would have been taken away from each other, and that wouldn't have been right."

Evan's world would fall apart without Eddie, so would Christopher's - at least together, they'd have somebody to cling onto.

"If I die on this job," Eddie continues, "I'll die knowing that you two have each other."

Tears glisten in Buck's eyes, "So, that's why you changed your will."

"Yeah."

Buck settles his hands on his rocking knees.

Eddie questions, "Is there something else?"

Evan nods deliberately, "When I get hurt, Maddie can get a little short with me."

"She's afraid of losing you."

"Of course," Buck fidgets, locking his fingers together, "Maddie's lost too much. She's already had to stand by, watch our brother die, and live with the fallout. The decisions my parents made when they had me."

Eddie hisses, "Buck—"

"I know, I am wanted," He assures, "By her, by you, by the team - but this isn't about that."

Eddie's expression relaxes, glad that he doesn't have to lecture Buck on his importance again.

"It's just," Buck sighs, "Maddie latches to those she loves, and she can't let go - I wouldn't want to put her in a place where that is her only option."

Eddie brow furrows, "I'm not following."

"I'm going to make an amendment to my living will," Buck concludes, the space between each breath grows shorter.

"What amendment?"

He lowers his head, "I'm going to give you power of attorney."

Eddie's face softens, "Oh."

"Maddie has it right now," Buck scratches at his cheek, "But I've spoken to her about changing it."

Eddie's eyes widen, "You have?"

Evan nods, "It was my parents before, but they don't know me, well enough, to make the right decisions, but you do - and I know that you'd be strong enough to make them."

"Evan," Eddie meets his gaze, "I can do that, for you," He vows, "And, I understand not wanting Maddie to make those decisions, but what about Bobby?"

"I thought of Bobby, but then I remember—"

Eddie realizes, "His kids." Bobby is one of the strongest men they know, but if he was ever faced with the decision to take Buck off life support, he'd crumble under the weight of it all.

"I know this is big and that these decisions would hurt you," Evan croaks, "But I have faith that you could make them."

"I could," He confirms, "Evan, if I die, you become my son's legal guardian, and I'm sure that wasn't easy for you to process because yes, I trust you, but in that scenario, I'm dead," He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, "If you could do that, I can do this."

Evan leans, gathering his friend in his arms, "Thank you," He whispers, gripping tight, "For everything."

[arcticrxt]

Some dream smp mbtis and enneagrams bc I love it!!!

@dreamsclock here it is!!

Characters:

Wilbur

Ghostbur

Tommy

Dream

Tubbo

Quackity

Karl

Under the cut bc they’re kinda long. Keep in mind this is the characters and not the content creators :]

WILBUR

Personally for me I’d type c!wilbur as ENFJ which is interesting for a villainous character. When he spirals into madness, you can see his dominant function (Fe) become more unhealthy, leading to him being very manipulative. He shows Ti-grip when his Fe is left to burn out, becoming critical of others and their methods, preferring he do it instead (seen with tommy during their exile). Ni auxiliary is shown in his ambition and drive for his goal of L’manburg.

For his enneagram, i know wilbur said he based c!wilbur off of the song eight by sleeping at last, but hear me out,,, I was thinking maybe a 3w4. The 8 characteristics could be seen in a tritype of 368. Type three is named the achiever which in itself stands for his vision and ambition of L’manburg. 3w4s are often working towards personal growth and professional success. When unhealthy, 3s can get extremely competitive and prone to one-upping others. May reject their sense of self and develop intense mood swings. At worst they can backstab ruthlessly (tommy and the whole of L’manburg and pogtopia) and destroy others reputations solely for their benefit (“if i can’t have this no one can”). The tritype Im a bit if-y on but I’ll say 368 because it focuses on working hard, achieving personal best and developing a winning image. They will want to protect others from those they perceive as a target (dream, Schlatt), they will warn and caution others and seek “worthy” authorities they can respect.

GHOSTBUR His Si is incredibly high so imma say ISFJ. His main motive (id say) is wanting to collect stories of his past and the history of the nation he built, his “unfinished symphony”. Fe auxiliary is very strong as well as he shows a lot of compassion to others, offering them some blue in times of need and also not wanting anyone to feel sadness like he feels it. Ghostbur ignores his own feelings in order for others to feel safe. His Ti is shown through his need for gathering knowledge to understand alivebur and i could also see it through his internalised logic that the blue will help people. Not sure on inferior Ne, maybe through not wanting to see other possibilities in regards to his resurrection, however he was under a lot of stress since his home just got blown up, and friend died, so I can’t blame him.

He clearly doesn’t want conflict so I’ll say type 9. Needs peace and harmony (he gives out blue to help people). Soothing voice, and collected (except when Phil blew up L’manburg but that’s reasonable). He’s complacent, and humble, and will go the extra mile so long as to not rock the boat. Appreciative of the small things in life and enjoy simple pleasures.

TOMMY For Tommy I think ESFP which is probably one of the ones I’m up for more opinions on bc I’m not completely sure of his type. Se as dominant as he thrives on living in the moment but in an unhealthy way (unnecessary conflicts) He’s got a strong Fi auxiliary and you can see that through his personal morals and the way he usually makes decisions based off of emotions rather than objective facts and logical reasoning. He’s good at planning, but not at thinking out the longevity of it. Eg when heady exile and found technos house and lived under there, thinking techno would find him, this all shows Se-Te loop. He gradually develops an unhealthy Fi which leads to him disregarding external relationships (his friendship with tubbo) and commitments to maintain his internal love of the discs.

Enneagram wise, I’m definitely leaning towards 7w6. 7s are usually jumping from one thing to another and are constantly getting bored. The wing 6 brings loyalty and protectiveness. When unhealthy, sevens become narcissistic in their actions and presentation (see his confrontation with tubbo after tubbo thought he was dead, and the “the discs are worth more than you ever were” granted he quickly realises what he said but the mentality was still there).

DREAM I think he’s a fairly obvious stereotype unhealthy ENTJ. He has a very low Fi. When we see him driven by emotion (usually anger) it’s terrifying and we have no context about it at all except that it’s for a need of control. He knows how to manipulate people through his charisma and power in an ENTJ fashion. He lost attachment to his things very quickly (using Te and Ni to go forward logically while also showcasing his inferior Fi)

Dream is a very painfully obvious 8, probably an 8w7, but he is defined an 8. The eight has fiery passions and is usually stubborn and headstrong, they are serious about control over their environment. They are goal-oriented and self-competent. Eights are direct and aren’t shy when taking the lead and making tough decisions. They are often seen in leadership positions. The eight type is part of the “body based” triad and they often act impulsively. They crave respect and enjoy being likes by the group. When unhealthy, eights can become tyrannical and intimidating, scaring off others at first glance. They become addicted to the pursuit of power and will destroy anything blocking their path. Feelings and emotions become insignificant (spirit :’)) challengers become stone-cold and take an antagonist stand to anyone who questions them or their motives. This is the one I’m most most sure of out of every typing I’ve done bc it seems painfully obvious.

TUBBO I’d say probably an Fe dom so maybe ENFJ/ESFP but I’m leaning more to the ENFJ side. Tubbo realised after he thought tommy had died that, without tommy he was himself. Something Fe doms struggle with the most is self worth and personal identity. They’re caught up in wanting to help others that they don’t tend to their own needs. He’s careless and self sacrificing when it comes to the needs of others (him giving up his life so that tommy could have the discs and be happy) and bc he has such low self esteem he doesn’t realise that that’s not what tommy wants. The reason I’m more leaning to ENFJ is because of his inferior Ti. Though he didn’t want to due to dominant Fe, he was lead to believe exiling tommy was the best possible solution. You can see he regrets it after tommy and dream had left. When he was working under schlatt we saw his remorse and guilt even though he knew it had to be done. We see his dominant Fe during his time as president when others push him to do things and he usually agrees. He was manipulated through guilt by dream which is very unhealthy ENFJ.

(I wrote this before the ghostbur one so sorry for any repetitive language) For enneagram, type nine: the peacemaker. Type 9s are motivated by their need for peace and harmony (tubbo was manipulated into believing that getting rid of tommy would achieve this). They have a calm demeanour and are agreeable. They’re hardworking, friendly, and modest but also more serious and diligent than expected. (I’m not too sure on his enneagram which is why this is so short)

QUACKITY Estj imo. Like dream, he’s unhealthily obsessed with power, (unhealthy dominant Te). He abandoned L’manburg because schlatt wouldn’t let him have any say, and he was shoved to the side, despite it being a coalition government. He is very logical and controls others. He makes sure he comes out as the hero and that his hands are clean, learning it from past experiences (Si). He quickly finds ways to get out of situations through the use of tertiary Ne. Doesnt show a lot of Fi and he usually underestimates his opponents abilities and/or strength due to his overconfidence. He’s willing to kill anyone who goes against what he thinks and is stubborn and argumentative. He doesn’t like it when people are lazy and don’t contribute.

Also, similarly to dream, I’d type his enneagram as 8w7. The same with his obsession of power, and his strong/weak mindset where he thinks the world is made up of protectors and those who need to be protected (see him taking it upon himself to execute technoblade for the better of L’manburg) which is all very textbook 8. The opinions of others don’t have much effect on him. Eights are concerned with justice, combating oppression, and protecting the weak. He takes the lead in making tough decisions (he’s the butcher army leader). He becomes more antagonist and villainous with his actions against technoblade, believing he’s in the right. (I didn’t want to just copy out what I said for dream so this is a shortened version)

KARL Torn between ENFP and ESFP but leaning toward ENFP. He’s time travelling because he believes it’s the right the to do which is more so Fi, but could be Fe wanting to help others at his personal cost. But also the Fi-Te pair keeps him going and he won’t stop until it’s fulfilled (which is pretty Te imo). He is creative and good with imagination and ideas (Ne) (at the masquerade, although it was a comical excuse, he came up with minecraft streamer quickly, he was also able to answer billiams questions pretty quickly).

Even though it’s now canon he doesn’t choose when and where he travels to, which would have been a stronger argument for a type seven, he’s still enthusiastic at the times he travels to. He’s optimistic (with the mentality everything will go right for him because he believes it has to, even though he’s loosing a lot of memories atm). He’s got childlike energy and curious eyes. He wants to bounce from one place to another, he created two towns already, although one technically no one knows about gogtopia except for the founders and tommy who travelled through it. He’s well like and popular, which is often a 7 trait. The type 7 is part of the “heart-based” triad, and we can see him act through this with the way he seeks excitement as a means to distract himself from the darker, and more painful things in life. He ignores his fears in favour of positive experiences. For a wing, probably a 7w6 in favour of 7w8, the same as tommy. He’s loyal and a strong leader over being tough and more career-driven. If he was to turn unhealthy in the future, we might see him loose his groundedness, and start to live in a perpetual fantasy instead of reality.

Sorry for any typos or bad grammar :]

[what-big-teeth]

Heal (Male Fae ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @serenitydusk requested a story with the female reader being a witch who encounters a male fae. Like I said before, my muse grabbed hold to her wonderful ideas and refused to let go until there was story that incorporated those elements (all 11 eleven pages worth). So I hope you all enjoy this fic!

tw: blood ; injury ; attempted break in Female Reader (POV) x Male Monster The forest is alive in more ways than one.

The verdant green of the trees and underbrush is near blinding. The shade of the rich soil almost appears jet black. And the scent of the fresh blooms is short of addictive; almost mouthwatering.

All signs of the Fae.

You’ve known this fact ever since you moved to the outskirts of your picaresque, rural town. The power ebbing and flowing from the surrounding land told you as much. You haven’t pinpoint the exact source, and you’re fine with not knowing.

Some stones are better left unturned.

You know the land you live on is not your own. So you leave offerings near the thickening edge of the forest, where the old trail has been reclaimed by nature. Today, you offer a small jar of honey, freshly gathered from a nearby hive; untouched, chilled milk in a glass bottle; and healing salves neatly packed and tied in dense cloth. The latter is always gone when you return to give more offerings the next day. 

Since you’ve begun paying your respects, in return, your decrepit cottage has slowly  recovered from the damage caused by time and the elements. The musty scent covered up by the herbal bundles hanging from the ceiling has turned naturally sweet. The molded cracks and leaks in the walls and roof no longer exist. And most importantly, your meager foraging has grown bountiful, leaving you with an excess of ingredients to use. Most of it for your famed healing salves and ointments. You can’t help but smile knowing your work is just as popular among the Good Neighbors as it is among the townsfolk.

Which is why today, you’re able to head into town to answer a house call.

You tuck away another container of pain-relieving ointment then slide the top of your leather satchel in place. After a final glimpse at your cold hearth and sun-filled workshop, you set off.

The main path into town leads eastward, past two, towering rows of conifers. Their citrus, piney scent engulfs you with every step. 

By the time you reach the town’s entrance, the sun is almost high in the sky. The townsfolk are up and about with many greeting you cordially. You do the same, but keep pace towards your destination. A few fallen leaves and pine needles cling to your light cloak; you know the fabric is suffused with the forest’s scent. Your patient won’t mind, but her caretaker may be offended.

Once your feet carry you down a narrow, cobbled street and to a bold, blue door, you lift your hand and give the barrier three solid knocks. There isn’t enough time to pluck away every needle and dust off every leaf before the door wrenches opens.

Roderick regards you with a critical eye, as if the piercing stare will send you scuttling back to your cottage. You stand your ground instead, and give him a pleasant, practiced smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Tate. I’m here for Mrs. Hale‘s weekly house call.”

You quickly learned to never call Edith anything but Mrs. Hale in his presence. The first time you did, your affront nearly left you without the gold coin and tip she promised you. So you adapted and now tread carefully, letting Roderick hear what he’d prefer. But great god and goddess if he didn’t make your attempts at pleasantries difficult.

Roderick hums low then steps away from the threshold. You swiftly enter in case he decides to change his mind.

“Mother is near the hearth. She insisted on preparing some tea,” he says, voice tightening. “‘For our guest’”, she said. 

Roderick can barely think of you as such thanks to how you’ve proclaimed yourself a witch. You hope, with time, he’ll slowly come around. Just as many of the other townsfolk have.

You thank him and follow him the short distance to the kitchen. Edith sits at their small dining table, her wizened, deep brown hands clutching the steaming mug before her. Her wide nose flares as she inhales the vapors as the fresh scent of peppermint prickles your nose. One of your favorites.

“Roddy, is that the healer?” Her dark, rheumy eyes squint in your direction and her wrinkled face lifts with a smile. “It’s so good to see you, my dear.”

“Likewise, ma’am.”

As much as you wish to greet her properly with a hug or a pat to the back of her hand, you ignore the urge. Roderick could easily kick you out for not treating his mother-in-law with the “proper respect”. Instead, you remove your satchel and take the empty seat across from her.

“Roddy,” she says, “be a dear and pour our guest some tea, will you?”

You glance at Roderick; he looks as if he’s swallowed a bitter draught. But he does as his mother-in-law asks then stands at the kitchen entrance, like a sentinel. No matter. You’re here for Edith and her alone.

As you both chat about summer’s approach and her change in hairstyle, you examine her hands. You carefully bend each finger, checking her expression for any signs of pain. None. You then move on to her wrists and see her twinge at the slight movement.

“It’s better than it was before,” she says.

“That’s good, but I’d still like you to keep using the compress and herbal infusion. Warm the infusion and apply it three times a day, as before.”

“Yes, yes. Roddy will help me, won’t you dear?”

As you place some lengths of cotton wool and dried herbs for the infusion on the table, the crinkle of Roderick’s lips and nose lessens.

“Of course, Mother. You only need to ask.”

Edith smiles beatifically before her mouth falls open.

“Oh, you haven’t finished your tea.” 

With the way Roderick’s nostrils flare, you know you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“What I managed to have was delicious,” you say, patting the back of her free hand. “I should get going.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner? Roddy can walk you back to your cottage afterwards.”

His gritted jaw says otherwise. You kindly decline Edith’s invitation and gather your satchel. 

Roderick leads you to the front door, holding it open as you pass through. A harsh jingling from his person draws your attention.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a leather pouch your way. “Your coin.”

You carefully take it from his tense, outstretched hand.

“Thank—”

The door slams shut.

“...you.”

The bustle from the town’s main square drifts through the air. With a sigh, you turn back the way you came. There are a few items you need to purchase before returning home.

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Like many times before, your offering of healing salves has vanished from where you’ve left it. But surprisingly, so has the fresh honey and milk. That hasn’t happened before. Believing this to be a good sign, you smile and walk back in the direction of your cottage.

You arrive just as the sun has nearly vanished beneath the horizon, before the more natural denizens of the forest have fully awakened. You slide the wooden security bar in front of the door and light your hearth, as you do every night. Your mouth stretches open in a wide yawn, but you ignore the temptation to bathe and curl up in your bed. There are some herbs that need to be hung for drying and your recent tincture needs to be strained. So first—

You hear a knock at the door.

Your brows knit together; you’re not expecting any company. The townsfolk know better than to venture into the forest so close to nighttime.One knock becomes two. Then three, four, five. Silence. You only hear the chirping and buzzing of the usual nocturnal insects. The tight grip on your cloak loosens. Perhaps the person has—

A dull “thwack” sounds against the door. It’s followed by a creaking wrench and a deep grunt of effort. Then again and again. You know the sounds intimately. You’ve passed by men from the town felling trees for firewood in the fall.

The person outside is breaking in. 

You nearly lose your footing backing away from the source of the sound. Your gaze darts around your workshop. The knives you own aren’t meant for injuring or self-defense. They pale in comparison to a sharpened axe. 

The axe bites into the door with more force. The wood groans. Splinters. The blade hits true again. You see a hint of it through the door. Your stomach roils.

But you manage to swallow your scream. You refuse to give the intruder any pleasure from the palpable fear gripping your chest. Even as your lungs struggle to draw in air, you whip around and grab one of your paring knives. You aim it towards the door and brace yourself for what’s to come next.

There’s a pained yell, mingled with a sharp curse. A growl then an animalistic scream, aimed away from your door. Grunts and groans, which you recognize as signs of struggling. They’re cut off by a weighty ‘thud’ and a lighter one that swiftly follows. The sounds of the forest are muted and you stand unharmed in one piece. But how?

With slow careful steps, you edge towards the damaged door. You place your paring knife on the floor and slide the security bar away, swiftly picking up your knife once the plank is secured.

The would-be intruder lays on the ground in a crumpled heap, their face pressed into the grass. An arrow pierces their flesh just beneath their shoulder, its fletching of hawk feathers ruffling in the night’s breeze. You can’t help but wince; for the shot to have fractured bone, the strength behind such an attack had to be enormous.

Looking up, you see the source of that strength.

Your savior stands half a stone’s throw away, cloaked in shadows. What little light remains from the sinking sun acts as a backlight, revealing his silhouette. You’re able to see the outline of their quiver and longbow. They’re of humanoid shape, but something about his head makes you uncertain.It’s then you realize the odd shapes framing his head are large, curled horns. And see the glowing, green pinpoints staring at you. Not human. But fae.

Neither of you move from where you stand. Part of you wants to, however, not wishing to incur the wrath of this Kindly Neighbor. But you’re frozen where you stand. Perhaps by his power.

“You are unharmed?”

The masculine voice would be soothing if not for the rasping edges surrounding it. He sounds injured, but you have no way of confirming your suspicions. You swallow against the nervous lump in your throat.

“Yes, I am. I…appreciate your aid and concern.”

The fae scoffs.

“Your thanks is misplaced,” he says. “I’m merely reinforcing the laws of the forest established by its ruler. Nothing more.”

A groan interrupts your thoughts on how to continue the conversation. The bulky, would-be intruder shifts his head against the ground, turning their tanned face away from the dirt. You’re able to make out his features thanks to your lit hearth, and find them familiar.Roderick isn’t the only one in town who is wary of you. But he is the most forward with his actions and words. The man lying near your home is one of his friends.

You stifle the curse building behind your tongue. The fae have never condoned vulgarity and you don’t wish to make things worse in this delicate situation.

“You should return indoors,” the fae says suddenly. “And find a way to deafen your hearing.”

A sharp chill rushes down your spine.

“May I ask why?”

You think you hear his grip clench tighter around his bow.

“This man’s actions have assured his death.”

Your stomach plummets as your mouth opens before you’re able to stop it.

“Please don’t!”

The unnatural silence amplifies the pounding in your head. The fae hisses, his body shifting in a stilted manner as he hunches forward to guard his middle. So he is injured.

“And why should I show him mercy?” he rasps out.

“This man has family and friends,” you say. “If they came to search for him, they could disrupt the peace of the town and the forest in general. I don’t wish for any innocents to accidentally bring the forest’s wrath onto their heads because of him.”

Because not even you, who many of the townsfolk believe to be powerful, wish to incur the wrath of the forest itself.

The fae says nothing in return and you fear he’ll deny your request. After a strong heartbeat, you speak again.

“Please do this and I’ll tend to your wounds until you fully heal.”

Your sense of logic catches up to you and decries your words as dangerous. You know what the Kindly Ones do for anyone must be repaid in kind by their own terms. But you don’t take them back. Because avoiding any harm befalling the townsfolk is better than having it seep into the town or fall upon it like sudden deluge. This thought alone keeps your gaze stalwart as the night settles around you.

“Done.”

The weight of your agreement settles beneath your skin and latches onto your bones. It’s a warning; if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, the oath will find another way. One that’s more grievous.

The fae stalks over to the fallen man. His ram skull mask and long, inky, black hair coming into view. He slowly hefts Roderick’s friend up onto his feet with a claw-tipped hand. If it weren’t for the bloodied slash interrupting the pale white skin of his torso, you believe he could do so without effort. Surprisingly, Roderick’s friend groans then startles, crying out as he agitates his injury. 

“Listen to me.”

An otherworldly reverberation bolster’s the fae voice. Roderick’s friend goes ramrod straight.

“You will run back home like the cur you are. You will tell the one who sent you how displeased I am. And if he should step foot in this forest, my hounds will hunt him down and rend him apart. Then come for you.”

The man screams as if facing death incarnate. And in a way, he is. The fae releases him and he runs down the path into town. The fae snorts at the sight, swaying unsteadily.

“One last thing,” he says, his gaze finding yours. “Do not remove my mask.”

He then falls over in a heap. 

The forest comes to life again moments later, as if the last few occurrences never happened. You curse freely, the reality of your situation becoming apparent. Clenching your jaw so as not to hear your teeth chatter, you rush over towards the fae. The rhythmic rise and fall of his bloodstained chest makes you sigh with relief. 

It takes a great deal of strength and energy—neither which you barely have due to the long day—to drag him inside. It’s only after securing your home again that you keep hauling him towards the rug before the hearth. Sweat beads your brow once you finish. One obstacle done. Checking over his injury reveals some stemming thanks to the clumpings of dried blood. That gives you enough time to create a makeshift bed and gather what you need. Warm water, pieces of cotton cloth, ointment and healing salve…

The blood that once stained his skin now clings to your hands. But thanks to your attentiveness, the injury is concealed beneath a generous amount of medicine and two layers of cotton cloth. Your patient shifts against the thick quilt and pillows beneath him. A good sign.

“You’ll need to remain here for a few days for the wound to heal properly.” You rub your clean forearm against your clammy brow. “Is that alright?”

“Whatever it takes to hide my moment of weakness,” he rumbles curtly. 

You resist the urge to curl your lip. He’ll be just fine. 

“Shall I leave the hearth lit for you?”

“No need. I can sleep without it.”

With an accepting hum, you place a blanket onto his brown breeches, ensuring it doesn’t touch his wound. 

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Pleasant dreams.”

A sense of wrongness almost overcomes you with him inside your home. Luckily, you’re able to stave it off. You know you’ve done the right thing. You’ve saved an innocent family from the attention of the fae. You’ve saved a guilty if foolish man from a pain worse than death. These realizations bolster you, becoming a calming mantra.As you finish straining your tincture and hanging your herbal bundles to dry, you feel as if you’re being watched. You refuse to turn and confirm this, your shoulders hunching.

“Conall,” he says.

You nearly drop the damp, clean sieve in your hand. 

“Pardon?”

“You may call me Conall. It should help make my temporary stay easier.”

He falls silent immediately after. It’s only after ensuring the green pinpoints have vanished that you heat up your bathing water, douse the hearth, and retreat to your room.You hope he heals and leaves soon; time cannot pass fast enough. But you know it won’t.

Slumber pricks at your mind and it coaxes you into unawareness.

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The awkward tension between you and Conall rears its head the next day. He accepts the food, drink, and aid you provide without a word. Which you are more than satisfied with. The only thing that stirs your annoyance is his staring.

Perhaps Conall hasn’t seen a human up close going through their usual routine. Or he hasn’t been inside of a human home. Either way, you feel the vivid pinpoints that are his eyes follow you when your back is turned. The strain comes to a head two days later, when Conall’s injury has begun scaring.

“What is it?” you snap. 

If Conall is surprised by your tense words, you can’t tell due to his mask. It only serves to infuriate you more.

“You’ve stared at me as if trying to look right through me, even though I’m doing what I can to ensure your health. Yes, this is part of our original bargain. But I will not be made into some object in my own home! Why is it that you stare so much?”

Hints of frigid fear attempt to douse your building irritation. You stifle them easily, expecting a snide response.

“You are worth looking at,” he says. “Especially in my eyes.”

A new heat replaces your searing temper. One that floods your cheeks and heats your blood. Your mouth snaps shut and you swiftly finish wrapping cotton cloth around his torso. 

“Y-Your injury is nearly healed,” you say, standing up and hurrying towards your filled basin. Thrusting your hands into the chilly water does nothing to help. “You should be able to move easily now. Perhaps leave in a few more days.”

“That is good to know, healer.” You hear something akin to mirth in his tone. “Perhaps I will get to see more of that fire you have hidden before then.”

You flee moments later, as much as you’re later loathed to admit. Even worse, his words stay lodged in your thoughts even into the next day. But that isn’t the only change you notice.

Conall begins to compliment your cooking, sincerely stating how comforting it is. He even aids you while you wrap his torso with fresh cotton cloth by holding it in place. During one long day after a promised house call, you find him asleep before the lit hearth. As expected. But the bundle of vivid, wildflowers awaiting you at the table is new. 

So is the smile it brings to your lips and how you welcome it. 

Soon enough, Conall begins to ask you about your house calls. About seeing Edith weekly. About Lucas, the little boy with golden-brown skin whose illness you’re monitoring. It isn’t surprising when the talks veer into more personal territory. He asks about your favored places in the forest and in town. What sweets you prefer. How you gather the offerings you leave near the forest’s edge. 

“But how did you…”

Your voice trails off as his gaze darts away from yours. You smile and place your spoon into your cooling stew.

“I take it my healing salve is of the greatest use to you?”

Conall hums, lifting another bite of dinner underneath the pointed edge of his mask. 

“The honey and milk are not unwelcomed,” he murmurs. “Perhaps that can be said about other things as well.”

This time, his eyes meet yours. And with a small thrill, you realize the sight of them no longer frightens you. Before your bravery leaves, you reach across your table and place your hand on the back of his.

“I agree.”

Your smile falters. As much as you wish to not ruin this peaceful moment, reality nudges at your mind like always.

“You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

Conall pulls his hand away. Only to gently thread his fingers through yours, being careful of his claws. But he still skims your skin with them, making your shiver.

“Yes. But I will return, if you wish to wait for me.”

The breath you take is silent, but heavy. You release it as you laugh, happiness bubbling up from inside you.

“I do. For however long it takes.”

That night, before bed, Conall calls for you. As you kneel beside his makeshift bed in your nightshirt, he lifts his hand and cups your cheek. With his other hand slowly lifting his mask, he closes the distance between you. His lips press against your skin, then trail down the side of your neck before resting at your pulse. He lingers there, then gently scrapes his sharp teeth against the area. Your self-control nearly shatters then and there as he pulls away, replacing his mask.

“When the morning comes, I will be gone.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “But when I return, I plan to continue where I left off.”

You lift your own hand to touch the back of his. 

“Can I know one thing before you go?”

He nods. 

“Why is it you can’t remove your mask?”

His thumb stroking the warm skin of your cheek pauses stiffly before resuming.

“This...is my punishment for my recklessness,” he says. “It’s one of many shackles binding me to the Queen who rules over these lands and lands beneath the hills. As long as she holds them, I’ll never truly be free. All of my being will solely belong to her. My thoughts, my appearance, my strength, my skill. Anyone who attempts to remove those bindings will face her wrath. But no more.

“I have something precious to fight for and see again. Even if I have to challenge every member of her Hunt; even if I have to face her head on, I promise I will prevail. So that one day, you’ll find me standing before you, utterly freed.”

Hot tears slip from your eyes and he patiently wipes them away. 

“I accept your bargain,” you say. He coaxes you closer, pulling you into a warm embrace. Even with your nightshirt acting as a barrier, you commit the feeling of what skin touches yours to memory. 

Morning wakes you with a slight chill in the air. You lay on Conall’s makeshift bed a bit longer, inhaling the fading scent of him: deep and heady like the forest after a strong rain. This, too, you lock away in your heart as you stand to your feet. All that’s left to do is to wait. 

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Days become weeks. And weeks turn into months. Soon enough, the harvesting festival is nearly here with the townsfolk preparing for the festivities. You still make your usual house calls, some to newer patients and others to familiar ones. 

Little Lucas has long overcome his illness and is happy to play with the other children again. Edith always has a cup of herbal tea with honey ready for you, glad to talk to you about anything and everything. Roderick is nowhere to be found during these visits. But the few times you do glimpse him, he looks at you with muted fear. He may never change. 

But at least now, he knows you aren’t to be trifled with. 

That evening, after the festival, you finish creating another batch of ointment as the harvest moon illuminates the night sky. Fatigue slows your attempts at cleaning your tools, but you manage to finish the task. A series of knocks on your door startles you. Forgetfulness and drowsiness are to blame for you not securing your door.

Wary, you silently take the sharp dagger gifted to you by Edith a few weeks ago. You slowly walk towards the door and open it.

A shirtless man with vivid green pupils surrounded by black peers down at you. The scar running against the bridge of his straight, pale white nose nearly interrupts his entire face. One of the pointed tips of his ears is missing, replaced by a healing scab. But it and its twin are framed by familiar curling horns as is his head. His ragged yet long inky, black hair shifts as he sways. A wet gasp tears from your throat as he pitches forward and you break his fall.

“Conall!”

He buries his nose into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The hot breath he releases is tempered with a soft kiss on your skin. 

“How I’ve missed this scent.”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. You hold him close, sniffling against your tears. 

“It seems I’m injured yet again,” he mutters wryly, sounding tired.

You place a hand against your beloved Conall’s cheek as he grins, being careful of the green bruising.

“I’ll take care of you,” you say. “If you’ll let me.”

The weight of your promise settles into your bones, palpable but not unpleasant. It even sends a shiver down your spine. Or is that caused by Conall’s warm smile?

You’re not sure. But at this moment, you don’t mind not knowing. Not as you close the distance between the two of you. Before the warmth of his kiss is all you know, he whispers against your skin.

“As long as I can do the same for you.”

[coolkat122]

Twisted Teeth: Vampire Gaara x Reader Chapter 1 Part 1

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I was on my way home after handling business in another village in my father's stead, it was pretty late into the night but I didn't feel like making any rest stops. 

As to get home as fast as I could, to be with my family and friends as soon as possible, I never really liked being away from them for too long, guess I'm too family-oriented? (Ha, ha).

Though I guess it can't be helped when I love them so dearly, they are the world to me and I enjoy every minute with them, except for the few fights, could do without those, just thank the heavens it's never anything we can't work out.

I best try my hardest not to wake anyone when I make it home, they should all be in bed by now and I doubt that they expect me to be home so soon' No one would have guessed that I would have forgone, resting at the other village till morning.

Since it's not really wise to travel so late into the night with bandits and "other" sorts of unsavory things lurking around in the night...

It truly was unwise of me but in my defense, I was feeling lucky and I really didn't care for the idea of staying in the mist village, they are decent enough for business though I wouldn't go getting comfy there.

Not the greatest place to spend the night given their reputation they are known for their high murder rates (and "drownings" if you catch my drift)... 

Obviously, when my father got sick he didn't want me going there in his place but I couldn't let him go in his condition and yes my mother was strong in her own right, no misunderstandings when I say that.

She wasn't cut for this kind of traveling nor do I believe she could handle doing business with some of the people in the mist village, and lord knows my brother was too young for this. 

Which left only me as the only one who could do it, and it had to be done since breaking arrangements with the man my father agreed to meet with has been proven for merchants and traders alike to be a really bad idea. 

I heaved a heavy sigh, 'So I'm glad I was actually able to handle it as smoothly as I did' with the amount of pressure that was riding on me, I'm quite surprised I didn't crack. 

That man certainly didn't make it easy for me to remain unscathed though somehow I managed, so I took some pride in that with a great big smile on my face that was filled with pride. 

Happily, I rode down the road feeling successful and a little prideful of myself though my smile was soon replaced with a look of worry and concern as from the corner of my eye.  (<Might change this)

I caught sight of a man stumbling out of the forest falling to the ground with a groan, he was clearly very injured and in need of help.

Despite my better judgment, I decided that I would be that help as I stopped my wagon and rushed over to the unconscious man.

Once I had approached him and became close enough to properly examine him, I soon discovered that the man wasn't human, evident by his pale skin, pointy ears and when I checked just to be sure I wasn't just jumping to conclusions.

Sharp fangs that were previously sheathed by his lips... having seen that what I thought was a fellow human was actually a creature known for preying upon my kind. 

I heavily debated my next actions, I could do what everyone would say was the right move and finish him off or I could be the better person and help him.

All life was precious and God cherishes all, right?... At least that's what our village priest would say but I'm sure if he were here, the man would be screaming at me to call that devil (his words not mine) which I'm pretty sure contradicts the meaning of "all" life having a value and a right to live in God's eyes.

So this leaves me in a prickle... I'm no killer and it really feels wrong to harm someone who hasn't even done anything to me yet and on the other hand I also strongly do not wish to give him the chance, but.

As I stand here looking down at his weak and fragile state, I can by no means call myself a good Christan and just leave him here as vulnerable as he is.

My heart ached and my world was becoming topsy turvy the longer I pondered, the right moral decision I was forced to make, I was torn in two on what was right, as one half of me warned me that helping him would be a mistake while the other.

Told me I would never rest easy knowing that, I let someone die even if that someone was a horrible creature... again despite better judgment, I took hold of the poor man's body and began dragging him toward my wagon where I carefully loaded him up.

'I'm going to regret this I can tell' I thought knowing that I was going to regret my choice either way so I figured may as well do the one I thought was morally sound.

At least then if he turns around and sinks his fangs in me, I could go knowing that I tried to be a good person.... with another sigh, I whipped the horses to go.

'I obviously can not take this creature home with me, I can't risk him harming my family nor the other villagers so I have to find a spot that was far enough away that I wouldn't have to worry about him causing trouble' It took some thinking and slight digging through my old memories to recall such a place.

The little shack that Naruto's Godfather used to stay in as he wrote his "novels" for peace and quiet, Jiraiya had pretty much abandoned it once he started a family of his own, and Naruto doesn't really care to visit it anymore either, so.

It was the perfect spot, no one besides those really close to Jiraiya knew of it and they hardly if ever even visit the place especially since the man himself no longer inhabits it.

With a new location in mind, I directed the horse there and since it was closer than my village I arrived there a lot faster then I would have had I still remained on course.

I tried to carry him in as carefully as I could but he was quite the heavy fellow and I wasn't exactly the strongest woman in my village (that titled belonged to my pink-haired friend), so there were some bumps and bruises along the way.

Nothing too serious though, once I had him settled in and the horses set, I begin to treat his wounds as best as I could all night (I also kinda tied him up, for safety reasons though I'm sure he's not going to be thrilled with that when he wakes).

At some point, I fell asleep as I was tending to him, thankfully it wasn't anywhere close to him enough so that he could do me any harm but it wasn't stopping him from trying as I awoke to the sounds of him desperately trying to slash me with those claws of his.

I frowned deeply at this as I rose from my seat with my arms crossed and in a stern voice that I've used many a time on my brother and Naruto whenever they acted out of line.

"Is that any way to thank the person who treated you?" His animalistic glare deepened as he snarled (Am I sure he wasn't a wolf or something? I heard vampires were more "classy" than this or at the very least more alluring...).

"Why would I thank a human that did this in the first place" He spit back at me.

"How good of a look did you get on the ones who cause you harm? Cause I can assure, I was not one of them nor did I play any part in it, I was just heading home when I saw you fumbling out of the forest as you did" He remained silent as he stared at me intently with those sea-green eyes of his.

"And you thought me some pathetic human in need of saving?" I really wanted to roll my eyes at this because he says this in a manner that makes it sound like he wasn't in some serious need of saving and I also really didn't care for his tone on human (and like it really even mattered rather he was a human in need of my help or a vampire cause rather way he did need it!)...

"No, I SAW that you were a vampire in need of saving which by the way, you are quite welcome, I really appreciate the gratitude and warm welcome as I awaken to see your grateful eyes shining ever so brightly upon me... really makes me feel like all the trouble I went through was worth it" I'm not sure when I had crossed my arms but at this point, I uncrossed them, and begin heading over to the cabinets.

I was hoping Jiraiya had something that was still good though as I really thought about it, obviously he didn't because of this I missed the look of confusion that crossed his face for a moment only to be replaced with a clear expression by the time I turned around sighing with disappointment.

"Well... Breakfast is going to have to wait..." I subconsciously begin to pout as I thought about the long ride I still had ahead of me and how hungry I was...

I should have brought some hunting tools with me, 'damn it all' I mentally cursed.

"...then... why did you help me?" I was pulled from my thoughts by the vampire as he gazed at me with an unreadable expression as he waited for my response.

My brows furrowed and my face took on an empathic expression as I gazed back at the vampire and answered honestly, "because it was the right thing to do... it felt wrong to just leave you there to die, I could never live with myself if I had".

The vampire's eyes searched for any detection of a lie and found none, his eyes widen for a moment as his expression morphed into this mix of confusion and sadness, he genuinely looked so lost at the idea of a human... wait no, that anyone would help him...

Were vampires not a helpful bunch to their own kind or something? Pretty sure that's a touchy subject so I won't ask, his green orbs cast their gaze toward the wall over to his left as he appeared to be in thought.

'I think I might have sent him on a self-journey at the moment...' I stood there in silence for a moment, not wanting to disturb his train of thought and also not really sure what I should do next...

I mean, I helped him...yay? But now what? I can't just untie him, he could still very well attack me and I don't really think I should leave him here. 

He could starve to death and if I feed him he could gain the strength to break free, oh god did I not think this through...

After coming to the realization that I am a flipping idiot, I immediately begin to beat myself up over the fact, 'how did a fool like me ever manage to make it as far as I did in life?' 

 This was a tough world and it's a well-known fact that you need brains and commons sense to last long in this life so how did I make it as far as I did and is this where it ends for me?

'I really hope not...' a moment of silence as I pay respects to my fading life, may it rest in peace...

"Thank you" My head snapped up as I stared wide-eyed at the vampire, question myself if I heard right.

"I'm sorry, did I hear you right? I was lost in thought" The vampire frowned as he repeated himself.

"I said, thank you, I am not without manners, I am sorry that I went as long as I did on saying it, I didn't get a good look at my attackers as you said and I assumed that you might have been one of them... I never imagined that anyone would ever extend me any kindness" His face though was strong and clear of any emotion, his eyes told a different story.

They showed pain, gratitude, betrayal, a slight willingness to trust though it was also still clear that he was on guard and doubtful, like he couldn't believe it true that anyone would dare to be kind to him.

I offered up my best smile as I replied, "You are welcome... and honestly do not trouble yourself over it, I'm sure waking up bound would give anyone the idea that they were in danger, and I'm sorry about that" The vampire remained silent, still unreadable even his eyes were too this time around.

"No, you made the right call, had I not been tied up... I'm sure I would have drained you in your sleep" My smile fell off my face as it was replaced with a disturbed and worrying look.

The vampire took notice and apologized, "I'm sorry, I should have kept it too myself" I tried to reassure him that he had no need to feel sorry and that I appreciated the honesty (at the very least).

"...very well" 

I was becoming more uncomfortable the longer this went on, so to hide that I turned my head ever so causally toward the window to break eye-contact while also taking a slight break from this whole ordeal and suddenly became aware of the time.

"Oh darn!" This made the vampire curious for my little outburst as he questioned.

To be continued➡️

[yes-kassiopeia]

CALM lashton lyrics analysis

Here we go form C A L M lyrics analysis from a lashton point of view. Aka  another long as fuck post.

Few consideration first. I am really happy that all of the song are not love songs! That was a bit of a down point for me about YB and I’m really happy to see other theme in this album! Also, I think we can all agree that it’s an happier album than YB, and that’s good! I’m happy the boys feel in better place. 

Songs I won’t talk about too much about

There are very good songs that I don’t have much say about from a lashton perspective so I’ll just quickly pass them. 

Red desert. Great song, I love it, but not lashton song. It’s about going back to your roots, dive inside of yourself to find the core, the passion, and light it up. Like a phoenix rising from ashes. Let it rise in you and guide you further. Great message.

No shame. This one is a social and self critique of the way we seek for attention and fame. Very nice, but not a lashton song neither. 

Old me. A reflection on your past, owning your mistake and you strength as well. Learning lessons from the pass and find pride in your achievements. It is technically a lashton song. And I think it’s very cute that they wrote it together, but it doesn’t say much about their relationship. 

Wildflower. Such a bop! It’s the “valentine” of CALM, even surpasses it in my opinion. Feelgood, sexy, groovy, and all, but definitely not a lashton song. 

These were the happy song. All of the other song include darker, sadder feelings. And there are several ways to read them and I don’t predent to have the right way by any mean. But if you believe that Lierra is the perfect happy couple (”my parents” “goals” etc.) ... You’re probably closing your eyes on one or two things... 

Easier

As much as I looks like lyrics 5sos could have written, none of them are credited... And I had to double check that, because I though Luke has said multiple time that they, or at least, himself was involve in the writing of Easier. And I could definitely see that. But apparently not?  

This is the first song on the album which talks about dysfunctional / toxic relationship. It describes a position where you’re stuck: you’re not gonna change, they’re not gonna change, and it's not working out. You're hurting each other although it seem you want the same thing. You still love them, but is still worth staying. (And according to me the implied answer on the lyrics is yes)

Teeth

Teeth is Another song about dysfunctional toxic relationship! (insert party emoji). And this time it is written by lashton too. So what does it says. Push and pull, mood swings, lies, fake apologies. Loving someone who's always changing their face or their personality, don't know what they want from you, but they're not letting you go. But you love them, and you let them, still find their good side sweet and pretty. Small part of you still hoping you can built something, have future.

Alright... Let’s keep that in mind and adding to more songs

Not in the Same Way + Thin White Lies

Those two are very similar to me in their lyrical content.

About Not in the same way, I’m gonna take a wild guess and you don’t have to agree. But I feel like the verses, which are very short, were written separately from the rest. (the bridge is longer than the two verses together). The verses begin with the same line “Not today” meaning, “I don't want to fight with you again”. You point out my mistake, you cry, you scream at me. You're always anxious and I'm already sad, I don’t need this. (I want to escape)

Otherwise, the rest of the song is very repetitive and have this spinning sensation (I’m not sure, cause i’m a noob in music but I think it is 3/4? like lie to me, the bass rhythm all along as this three time valse-like ‘ta-da-da’ going on). To me this translate the lost balance, lost of reality. Making the same mistake again and again, even if you know it, even if it hurts you.

Thin White Lies goes along the same veins: I'm sad, I don't know how to handle the questions or my own reflection. The night comes and I make the same mistake, endlessly. In the morning  words break my heart, and I leave. But I'll always come back for one more taste of you. And hate myself for that.

BUT! In Thin Whites Lies there's the only time in the whole album where there’s a ‘she’ pronoun. A she that is different from the you everywhere else in the song. So that mean there are three people involved. There's someone else. “She said she loves me, doesn't show it.” I don’t feel you love, she doesn’t show her love neither. I’m in the middle, loosing my mind, don't know I am anymore. I am holding on thin white lies.

Okay so my conclusion, my interpretation, is that it’s Luke describing how he’ll always come back to Ashton, even if he breaks his heart, even if their both in relationship, even if he know it’s not gonna do any good. But he just can’t resist. And on the other hand it is screwing up majorly his relationship with Sierra (NITSM verses + “She”) whatever you think that might be (Friends, PR, couple, mixed, etc.) 

Best Years + Lover of mine

Before any Lierra stan starts to gushing over Best Years, let me remind you the first verse. “I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you”. This means 1) being together 2) break up or cheat 3) trying to get redemption. So that’s not the ideal relationship they sell. AND, this proves this is about long relationship. Like very long, years obviously. And I personally don’t think Lierra has this kind of story... Lashton does tho. But you’re entirely free to disagree of course. 

Here’s my interpretation "We had a burning passion, that burnt us. I made mistakes. I have been with other people but I still about think you. Now that we're older and wiser, we can build something out of the mess and broken piece, a future together, the best years of our lives."

Luke said about it : “The song is a beautiful love note, something I felt I needed to get off my chest.” And yes it is a promise, but I am the only one who feels like it’s also a request ? like : “don’t you see what we could be? Don’t you want us to grow together?” and that’s it’s not directed at Sierra. But hey, what do I know?

Lover of mine. Completely unproved, but I feel like the verses and pre-chorus where is written by Lierra. And it’s about accepting your partner mistakes, past and flows, and embarrassing all of them. And the chorus is Ashton's addition and response to best years. It has the same theme of redemption and promises.

“I'll never give you away 'Cause I already made that mistake. If my name never fell off your lips again I know it'd be such a shame. When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes you're the only thing that I think I got right.” and this last sentence especially sounds a lot like Ashton to me. But that’s subjective I guess.

Also I feel like Ashton would the sassy guy to place his love confession in the couple song, just to screw it up x)”

Lonely heart

Lonely heart has an interesting point of view, as I feel like it is place on the side who’s holding back someone, while the other song are viewed from the one feeling held back. “We've been together, I know I hurt you. But if you go, I'll be lonely, you'll be lonely. So please can we have a second chance?” So I’d say it’d be Ashton answer to the other song (also I feel like he wrote some stuff from his heart in not in the same way too)

There a lot of theme that have already been exploited in the previous song so i’m not gonna go over them again. It doesn’t really bring much new content. Correct me if I am wrong. 

High

High is about being selfsish... in a good way? Trying to put yourself first when you still think so much of the one who hurt you. There this implied thing with the line “ my heart is built to last more than a night” that really ties with all the love in dark/ love at night / same mistake every time, we fuck/we fight, etc. that goes on from the all album. There’s another line that I want to point out: “I know I'll never meet your expectations.” which very sadly sound to me like: I’ll never the girls you can hold hand with publicly. And I might be reading way to much, but that just imposed itself to me. And it’s followed by “the picture that you paint of me looks better in your mind” which, once again, sound very much like something Luke could say about Ashton. 

I know this song my seem like their relationship is dead, and Luke’s trying to move on, but it’s not because it’s the last on the album that it’s the last in the chronological order of the real life even. I would personally place this as an really 2018 song. 

So yeah Lashton fucks! But they still don’t know how to handle it... And Sierra in the picture frame now. Woohoo. 

Leave you own comments and thoughts. I’d love to hear that :) 

And If you read till there, congrats, you’re a real one. 

Lots of love <3

[fics-not-tragedies]

In a Week: Chapter 19 🌲

This chapters is sponsored by temptation and lustful thoughts, so please enjoy it!

Words: 2377; Warnings: first, but minor, smut warning for this chapter; Summary: Andrew was well deserved to be pushed into the pool by Flo and now she runs around his mind making endless loops.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​;

Tuesday, 6pm

Andrew was frustrated. He couldn’t find anything witty to say as she walked away from him. He watched her leave speechlessly before he dared to move, wanted her to have that satisfaction of the win, knew she deserved it. As he hauled himself out of the water, he could have sworn the ten year old kid laughing at him had snapped a picture, but he didn’t have time to pay attention, needed to take a cold shower immediately.

To his annoyance, the spray of the shower in his cubicle was intermittently too hot then too cold, doing nothing to calm him down. Andrew desperately tried to blink out all of his obscene thoughts prompted by the way she wiggled her ass at him. She was a fucking tease, especially when she knew how badly he wanted her, but he couldn’t deny for a second that he loved it. He ran his hands back through his hair and washed the pool scent from his body with his hands.

Even just touching his own chest felt too dirty, especially when he couldn’t think about anything but Flo’s body in that too tight swimsuit. And he couldn’t help but imagine her with him now, the idea of fucking her against the wall too good to repress. He wouldn’t even bother undressing her, would simply move the material out of his way and skip the teasing she was asking for, too hungry, too desperate, too close to giving her everything. Andrew almost choked on his staggered breath, too aware of how aroused he was when he looked down at the sudden movement in his shorts, thankful he was alone.

Andrew double and triple checked the door behind him, ensuring nobody could get in. He paced for a second or two in the limited space of the shower cubicle, the pent up energy refusing to fade and as his breathing increased, his arousal grew. He couldn’t get her out of his head, her twisted smirk, her tits threatening to spill over the flimsy material whenever she made the slightest of movements, the confidence he helped her finding too much to handle. He blinked a couple of his times, trying to reason with himself.

But as aware as he was that she was waiting for him, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to think straight until he dealt with his need. So, without a second of reconsideration, he began to palm himself through his shorts eagerly with one hand. With the other hand he fumbled with the knot in the front of them, frustrated by his past self for being so meticulous about how he tied it and hissed with relief when they dropped to his ankles and he freed his cock at last. He stroked his semi-hard length gently, worried that any harsher movements would make him moan in a way that he couldn’t control, but he was already shaking.

He turned his mind back to Flo and how desperately he wanted her. He thought about how good it’d feel to push his length inside her, hold her hips down so she could take him, feel her heat envelope him and keep him close, squeezing him tightly with her wetness dripping down the thighs he adored so much. He hated how hard she made him without even being here, how easy it was for her to have him reeling over the mere thought of her when she wasn’t even trying and began running his hand over his cock with more force, the sensation too good to deny himself of.

The rhythmic flicks of his wrist satisfied him greatly and whilst there was relief in touching himself, fucking his palm in the way that he was doing so now, his body was also tense, shaking with how bad he needed her. As the spray from the shower fell down over his body, he looked down at himself, the purplish head of his cock disappearing into his tight fist over and over again, hips jerking with little control. His arm already ached from how much he was straining it, the muscles tight and bulging. Hair was falling into his face, wet and he didn’t have the energy or strength to push it back. He furrowed his brow, getting lost in the sudden heat after the water had been so cold for so long and bit the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to hold himself together when all he wanted was to come undone at the thought of her.

His head fell against the wall of the shower loudly, eyes closing so that he could picture her and only her as he hovered closer to the feeling of letting go, obsessed. He tried to imagine Flo’s hand tugging at him instead of his own. He thought about her long delicate fingers and her imperfectly painted nails, the way she wrapped her hand around his bicep, his knee, touched his chest, locked her fingers with his. Andrew had always been aware of the fact that he wanted her, but his need to be inside her was carnal now. He wanted to make her tremble and writhe underneath him, find out what her moans sounded like when they echoed off the walls of the tight space he was in, be the one and only reason for them.

Knowing he was close now, his spare hand stroked and tugged at his balls to elicit that throbbing he craved and he shifted his hips up into his palm, back against the tiled wall, squeezing himself and fucking his fist until he was panting. Then, with a sudden low growl he couldn’t keep repressed and a slight tremble from his lips that formed her name, he watched himself shake, his thick cum oozing from the tip of his cock. Thankful the noise of his grunting was covered somewhat by the rushing of water, he stroked himself until he felt empty, spreading it over his shaft as he came down from the high, the mess dripping over his hand and through his fingers.

His cheeks flushing at the sticky mess he made for her without her even knowing, he closed his eyes again and panted whilst he tried to control himself. He washed himself down, standing under the shower head for longer than necessary. He hoped that relieving himself would at least exorcise her from his mind, but she was still there and every time he tried to think of something new, she wriggled her way back. Turning the shower off at last, he stepped out and patted himself down with the towel, still out of breath. As he dressed he chuckled to himself, remembering the way he annoyed her, worth it for her satisfied smirk when she pushed him in the pool and though he hadn’t expected her reaction at all, looking back now it didn’t surprise him. Making sure there was no concrete evidence of what he’d done in his moment of weakness, he exited the cubicle.

Tuesday, 6:15pm

After washing his hands at the sink in the far corner, Andrew rubbed his face and stared himself down in the mirror. His lips were swollen from how shallow his breathing was and he swallowed dryly as he fought to hold onto any shred of control knowing he’d given so much of it to her just by fucking his fist to the mirage of her. The shower had helped a little but his eyes were still red and stingy from the chlorine and from how much he ached for her. Knowing there was no way to fix his appearance now, his upper chest a little pink, hair a mess no matter what he tried, he exited the changing rooms with a dire need to see her face again, silently hoping he could hold himself together.

Tuesday, 6:20pm

Flo was waiting with her arms crossed, lean against the pillar in the middle of the reception with her head slightly dipped. She washed, dressed and combed her hair through in minutes and had been waiting for him patiently. And even though he’d been gone longer than she’d expected she told herself he was just probably fighting with his hair. She looked up when she sensed his presence in the room at last, her eyes adjusting as he walked toward her. His hair was still damp and more of a mess than she’d ever seen it, though she could tell he tried at least to comb it through with his fingers. His skin a little pink and sweaty and though she wanted to question it, she decided it would give him the satisfaction of knowing she was staring. He had managed to squeeze back into his jeans and his jacket was hanging over his shoulder.

“Took your time…” she tutted as he stopped in front of her, but she was smiling at him nonetheless, eyes bright and general posture much more calm than his. She was wearing the same dress she chosen that morning, showing plenty of skin, reminding Andrew just how quickly he could be inside her just by pushing up her skirt. Clearly he wasn’t over the dirty thoughts just yet. She tied her straw hair back into a bun and it killed him - how effortlessly cute she was without her makeup, with her hair out of her face.

“Yes, sorry…” he grumbled, scratching his throat uneasily, “I got… em, a bit lost…” He was paranoid that something gave him away but could tell she hadn’t caught on from the way she was smiling, so carefree.

“Why are you pouting at me?” She asked, eyebrows raised at him as she waited for an answer. Her eyes drifted over his neck and he almost flinched.

“Me? Pouting? I don’t think so…”

“You are always pouting at me and giving me puppy eyes, Andrew.”

“Oh, no no, I’m not” he stated, lips curled. Flo laughed in response, could sense a little tension in his body that she wanted to soothe, “What are we doing now?” he asked grumpily, trying to change the subject.

“I’m hungry” she told him firmly, grabbing his forearm arm in a way that was enough to make Andrew lose his mind at the way her fingers wound around him, “We’re gonna eat.”

Tuesday, 6:30pm

No more than ten minutes later they were sat in the restaurant, at a table with white table cloths, Andrew pulling out Flo’s chair before the waiter could offer. Though he didn’t regret his actions in the shower one bit, it hadn’t satisfied his cravings in the way he’d expected and he also felt strangely guilty for leaving her waiting whilst he took the edge off his desire, so was subconsciously trying to make up for it now.

“Such a gentleman” she laughed, as he pushed it back in.

“You know me” he replied, the irony of his words striking him.

He walked slowly round to his side of the table. Andrew sat down in his chair in a sort of slump, spreading his legs a little wider than usual to make up for the way he was aching. With his cock trapped behind his boxers and his jeans, he didn’t dare to look at her for a moment longer than necessary, worried what she’d do to him just with her wicked smile and her tits pushed up against the fabric of her dress like they were. Settled for at least a moment, he graciously tipped his head as the waiter handed them their menus and gave them a lengthy explanation about the specials and the soup of the day.

Though Flo was in fact hungry, she couldn’t focus on the waiter fully. She was preoccupied by Andrew, watched him wriggle in his seat uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye as she nodded along to the mention of tomato and basil soup. If his fidgeting wasn’t enough, he stretched his arm like it ached, wincing a little dramatically. Then he squeezed his hand into a tight fist and released it again, repeating the movement over and over in an attempt to ease something she didn’t quite understand. He was fine before. After giving Andy a look just as concerned as hers was, the waiter left them to make their decisions.

Andrew was struggling, in more ways than one. The ache from how he was so tense in the shower was worse than he’d realized possible, but the way she lean forward over to speak to him was even harder to ignore.

“Andrew, what’s wrong?”

He looked across at her tentatively, the way her lips parted when she said his name so delectable and he couldn’t stop replaying it in his head. She wasn’t even meaning to push him over the edge, but he was going to fucking lose it. He could feel a twitch from his crotch, a sign of his undeniable arousal for her and he formed a fist then flattened his palm to readjust himself, hoping she wouldn’t notice, hoping nobody else would notice. He swallowed sharply at the realization he was semi-hard in his pants again, struggling to think properly with her looking so deliciously innocent. He wanted to ruin her, wanted her to moan his name over and over whilst he gave her everything he’d been dreaming of. Partly as a distraction, he stretched his arm again, annoyed with the pain that had built there.

“You alright?” Flo asked, a hint of genuine concern in her voice.

“I got a cramp…” he sighed, frustrated with himself.

“In one arm?” Her eyebrows raised again when he lifted his gaze to her at last.

“Yes…”

“Been lonely in your hotel room, Andy?” She teased mercilessly after a beat, too close to the truth, but so unaware of it.

“If you only knew, Flo, honey…” he said, swallowing hard before quickly changing the subject back to the food, “What are you ordering?”

“I’m not sure…” she mumbled, hesitantly turning back to her menu and scanning it with her eyes. She looked up at him again briefly, his wriggling and stretching unnerving, wasn’t convinced he was okay, could tell he was lying at least a little bit, or covering something up, but didn’t want to push him.

[aion-rsa]

How The Mandalorian Gave Fans a Different Kind of Star Wars Story

https://ift.tt/2Miy7FO

This Star Wars: The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

Technically, Disney+’s The Mandalorian is part of the biggest franchise on earth. But it doesn’t always feel that way.

True, it’s a Star Wars property, and it rarely lets you forget that fact. The show is rife with references to the films and animated series that have come before it and it enjoys padding out existing lore in ways that only the most hardcore of fans will care about—or possibly even notice. (Did you remember there was a krayt dragon skeleton in A New Hope? Be honest.)

The Mandalorian isn’t a story that requires a tremendous amount of Star Wars knowledge to follow or enjoy. And that’s because its central tale is one that follows rules and patterns we’ve all seen before. A mix of tropes from classic spaghetti westerns and samurai adventures, the show offers a broad look at life on the edge of the galaxy that exists well beyond the world of Jedi Knights, Sith warriors, and space princesses. And its tale of a lone bounty hunter and the supercute Force-wielding toddler he is charged with protecting is proof positive that there is space for every kind of story in this franchise. (As well as every kind of fan.)

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

In a universe that has become increasingly dense and self-contained, The Mandalorian still manages to feel like a breath of fresh air. Sure, its second season finale includes a surprise appearance by Luke Skywalker, because no property in this universe can apparently escape that family and their seemingly never-ending daddy issues, but the Disney+ series doesn’t seem concerned with him as anything other than a vehicle to further the story of Din Djarin, a good man who is trying to do right – by his faith, by his people, by the tiny creature whose life has suddenly become intertwined with his own.

Though the eponymous Mandalorian has run across a bevy of characters that have made longtime fans shriek with delight (Boba Fett, Bo-Katan, Ahsoka Tano, Luke himself), and the series ties in rather neatly with other franchise properties like The Clone Wars and Rebels, it still understands that its greatest strengths stem from its smaller stakes, more realistic worldbuilding, and the emotional connection between two vastly different creatures.

The Mandalorian isn’t an epic adventure, a space opera about the future of the galaxy as we understand it, or a tragedy about a single family’s apparent inability to keep from making the same mistakes from one generation to the next. It’s a story that’s deliberately limited in its scope and modest in its ambitions and, at the end of the day, the show itself is all the stronger for these choices. 

In comparison to other Star Wars properties, The Mandalorian’s story is almost painfully straightforward, if perhaps a little bit darker in places than we’re maybe used to in this universe thus far. Set in the galaxy’s Outer Rim following the fall of the Galactic Empire, it generally deals with characters – including its own lead – who are not terribly complicated people. Their lives are simpler, rougher, and more focused on the everyday challenges of living than the Jedi and characters like them that populate the films. 

Even the Mandalorian himself is simultaneously an avatar and a real person, and we get to know him as much through his struggles as his successes. He is, after all, the most reluctant of saviors. Yet, as many lone warriors before him, he is also a man with a code, and he holds tight to it, even in the lawless outskirts of the galaxy. 

Occasionally Mando will have to rescue someone or must join forces with an uneasy partner in order to kill a monster or pull off a heist. But no matter how that particular adventure goes, by the end of the hour, he’s back on his path and moving toward his next goal. The show doesn’t really have “arcs” so much as stories that occasionally take place over an episode or two—see the transport of the Frog Lady back to her partner that begins in “The Passenger” and ends in the subsequent installment—and its most dramatic set pieces generally rely on Mando fighting something, ranging from a furious mudhorn to ravenous, gross ice spiders.

In the world of genre storytelling, serialized stories with twisty plots and puzzle-box mysteries are all the rage right now. Just look at shows like Westworld, a drama that—as much as I love it—spends much of its time tying itself into complex narrative knots it doesn’t really know how to get out of. So, a show like The Mandalorian, with its linear narrative, clear-eyed storytelling, and refreshingly basic plots suddenly feels like a revelation.

And maybe it is.

Read more

TV

The Mandalorian Season 3 Predictions: What to Expect

By John Saavedra

Books

What Star Wars: The High Republic Reveals About the Galaxy Before the Movies

By Megan Crouse

The fact is, there’s still real value in a simple story about a man doing his best, no matter what circumstances he finds himself in. Maybe we’ve forgotten that fact in a television landscape that’s conditioned us to always be looking for a trick or a surprise reveal, but The Mandalorian’s largely straightforward narrative proves that it doesn’t have to be that way. And the show is as satisfying as any series that requires complex fan theories to enjoy or in-depth explainers to fully understand. 

The explainers are nice, don’t get me wrong, but in all honesty, the show is doing just fine introducing existing canon characters like Ahsoka to new audiences on its own. You don’t need to have watched Rebels to enjoy her presence here, but if you have, the satisfaction is all the greater. Truly, we don’t give The Mandalorian enough credit for the delicate balance it strikes in the age old struggle between storytelling and fanservice. It’s a difficult thing, and the show walks a fine line both carefully and well.

Even the appearance of Luke, probably the ultimate moment in Star Wars pandering, exists not for its own sake so much as it does to advance the series’ main relationship – that between Din and young Grogu. (If you didn’t get a little emotional watching them say goodbye to one another, then you have no heart, I’m sorry.)  

There’s little of the narrative baggage that usually comes along with a Skywalker arriving on the scene here – it doesn’t appear that anyone else even knows who he is beyond the fact that he is a Jedi – and though he’s meant to teach Grogu the ways of the Force, there’s no real indication we’ll see Luke again. After all, he has to start off down the path that leads him to The Last Jedi, and Grogu will  undoubtedly return to his Mandalorian’s side at some point in the not too distant future. Disney knows where its money is, after all. And it’s not in Pedro Pascal merch, much as we all love him. 

The Mandalorian’s  first season occasionally drew criticism for what naysayers deemed a “flimsy” or “barely there” plot, but this underestimates the power inherent in the series’ simple framework. Not only is it an emotional balm for those of us who are, quite frankly, tired of hour-long installments that require a significant amount of work to understand, it actually serves an important narrative purpose. The slower pace and simpler story allow us to get to know Mando and his culture, and gives the Star Wars universe a chance to take a minute and breathe.

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The Skywalker films are so full of big, potentially galaxy ending stakes and consequences that we as viewers get little time to simply take the universe in on its own terms – let alone get to know the people that inhabit it. We’re usually too busy worrying about how it all ties back to the family at the story’s center or the Jedi they serve. 

The Mandalorian has shown us what the Star Wars world outside of all the Skywalker drama looks like – even though it briefly includes one of them – and it lets us take our time to gawk at its sketchy bars, enjoy its colorful characters, and travel through run-down desolate towns at a slower pace. It’s allowed us to invest in the emotional connection between a lonely man and a lost creature who may be the last of its kind. And quaint though all that might seem, it’s certainly turned out to be a journey worth taking.

The post How The Mandalorian Gave Fans a Different Kind of Star Wars Story appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Mh7mS7

[voyage-in-the-dark]

TGCF mbti typings

I typed Xielian, Huacheng and Junwu before here but I am adding on to my typings for all three of them.

Xielian - ENFJ

Fe: I think most people can agree that he is an FJ. His narration is dominated and permeated by an awareness and concern for others’ well-being and their feelings, with little to no focus, awareness or reflection on his own feelings --> Fe, lack of Fi. He shows signs of feeling responsible for people’s well-being.

Ni: He is NFJ rather than SFJ: when he was young, he was arrogant because of the conviction he had in his beliefs, which I think is because he took his belief as more real than even reality itself (Ni). He was confident because he was confident in the ‘truth’ of his ideals, and his ideals are distinctly NF: he wanted to save all the people. 800 years later, his idealism is still very clear. When he explains what happened in the Yongan war, he said that he would rather Lang Qianqiu think that he had died than that his ideals were wrong or flawed. Ideals were important to him over all else, even how people saw him --> Ni. The scene at the end of the book in the mountain where he would rather Junwu harm him than to admit that his ideals were wrong again shows how heavily he prioritizes his ideals over all else.

Introversion or extroversion?: I used to think he was an extrovert because he was often involved in many events and actions in TGCF, but most of his ‘extroversion’ is because he is responding to the roller-coaster of events and crises happening. He is pushed into action rather than initiating action. So, perhaps an introvert?

Extroversion, tertiary Se: However, he is very forgiving and very patient, even towards others who have harmed him, or people who are bad, cruel or hurtful (Fe-doms tend to forgive much easier than Fe-auxes) and his flaws seem to be more directly related to inferior Ti (not advocating sufficiently for himself and his needs, periods of intense self-doubt)... In Book 4, he was quick to regain faith in people if only ONE person would be kind to him, which to me spoke more of dominant Fe’s forgiveness and ability to trust in others. His low self-awareness of his feelings --> dominant Fe. When he is under stress, it is mostly expressed through tertiary Se: anger towards others, hot-headed, rather than Ti: criticism of others. His Se is too strong for inferior Se: he actually adapts very well to the rapid changes and crisis, and he is very quick on his feet. 

I had thought that when compared to Shi Qingxuan, he seems like an introvert, but I think Chinese society does not reward overly extroverted behavior, but rewards fitting social expectations. So, one is usually less expressive and minds one’s business. It means that in Chinese society, Fe-doms come off almost like introverts.

Huacheng also compensates for his low Se-Ti. Huacheng simplifies his overthinking/overworrying, helps him cut through things when it’s complicated, helps him look at things in a more realistic way because he helps XL understand what he can/can’t control, and helps him find contentment/happiness in the present moment.

Given that Xielian is ENFJ, Junwu is likely ENFJ as well.

Huacheng - ISTP or ISFP depending on what MXTX needs him to be for the narration

Ti-dom v Fi-dom: Huacheng is very hard to type because MXTX projects onto him quite heavily, lol. 800 years ago, Huacheng is that ISFP stereotype: intense and emotional, angsty and angry, devoted and fierce. Most of time, when it’s a scene related to the past, or it’s a Tonglu scene, Huacheng will be ISFP, lol. For instance, in Book 3/4, when Xielian and Fengxin/Muqing enter Mt Tonglu, every character commented on how different Huacheng seemed, and I can only conclude that it was because they were reacting to the ISFP Huacheng, lol.

Aux-Se: I think the only thing that doesn’t change about him is the aux-Se. In the past, it was seen in how his pent-up feelings expressed themselves physically, through shouting or anger. In the present, it’s seen in his extravagant, ‘just coz’ gestures of love towards Xielian (the temple with the lanterns, the carriage, etc). Even when he kept changing his clothes during the Black Water arc was a sign of him using Se to entertain himself through his boredom. Xielian also describes him as playful, and not taking things seriously and he likes to tease Xielian to watch him get flustered.

Ti-dom: Dominant Ti is obvious in present Hualian. He is very detached and is quite hard to know unless he cares about you. He has a very small number of people he cares about (literally only Xielian, lol). During the Black Water arc, he stood by the sidelines despite other characters being in danger, and he was perfectly comfortable with ignoring the danger/distress of everyone involved, because he didn’t feel morally/emotionally affected nor personally involved in the slightest, showing amorality --> high Ti. Ti-doms generally prefer watching how things will play out before intervening, especially if messy emotions are on display.

The arrogance towards others, the superiority/dismissive attitude towards people is a classic example of immature and reductive dominant Ti. He is also strongly characterized as being very sharp, analytical and investigative. The way he understands people is very simplistic and reductive, none of the nuance of an F, more like a T with F issues: he generally seems to see people as useless and not worth his attention unless they are useful or they are dangerous (powerful).

Inferior Te or inferior Fe: His inferiority complex and his desperation with feeling so powerless puzzled me for a long time. It sounded like a Feeler using their lower Thinking function to deal with pain, and it sounds specifically like lower Te trying to compensate for higher Fi wounds. In other words, trying to be powerful in the external world to feel less powerless when the wound is actually inside, not outside. It was not consistent with the way a Thinker might relate to issues of powerlessness. I entertained the possibility that the confident and arrogant Huacheng was a facade that was put up (a Feeler using their lower Thinking function to pretend to be powerful, capable and competent), but it doesn’t make sense, because as an ISFP, this would mean he was using inferior Te for prolonged periods of time (800 years, give or take?) and who is able to sustain that? It would mean his personality is gripping most of the time and he would actually be very psychologically unstable, but the confident and competent Huacheng seems quite at ease being confident and competent, not like he’s putting on a facade, and it seems more like there are two totally different Huachengs. ISFP Huacheng struggles with powerlessness and having absolutely NO self-worth whatsoever. ISTP Huacheng, if MXTX had ever developed him, likely would have struggled with seeing people valuable in and of themselves, rather than waste-of-spaces. (Ti integrating Fe)

Conclusion: Xielian is attracted to the ISTP Huacheng - he finds Huacheng’s confidence and easy way of carrying himself very attractive (lower function envy), and I think the strength of Hualian lies in the ENFJ/ISTP attraction and dynamic. MXTX said in the notes at the end of book two that she wrote this book because of seeing the image of an abandoned temple with the a soon-to-be forgotten god and his last believer. It seems that her original plan for the devoted follower/love interest was for him to be an ISFP (and the nature of dominant Fi would make for a very good devoted love interest), but when it came to the actual ship, she herself quite liked powerful badass T types (see Lan Wangji and Huacheng’s almost ridiculous badass competence), and she made him a Ti-dom instead.

[thevividgreenmoss]

How Laugier knows what these victims go through is anyone’s guess. Still, what sets his depiction of a split-personality, revanchist killing machine apart from his forebears is that he almost immediately reveals to the viewer that Lucie is the one still hurting herself. Lucie’s manifested guilt is not entirely the driving mechanism behind the film: what eventually takes precedence is uncovering who the monsters are that created it and why they did it.

The fact that Laugier has a perfectly normal family act as the perpetrators of the film’s gruesome activities serves firstly as a dig at Craven’s Last House. The wily and utterly audacious Frenchman effectively shames the fittingly named American for stopping as short as he did in pointing the finger of blame at a small suburban couple who, having just lost their daughter to a gang of thugs, decide to creatively slaughter her executioners. Laugier upends that film’s self-satisfied, pseudo-ambiguous conclusion by suggesting that perhaps these milquetoast, child-rearing folk had a reason for hurting other people that goes beyond their family tree, a reason that is infinitely more sinister because it serves a curiosity that has no ties to the domestic or even the mundane. These people torture others because they want to vicariously experience their “other”ness, to see what it’s like to have a person cross over to “the other side” and come back to tell them how green the grass is. This is where I really start to go out on a limb, so bear with me.

...Though it may look obvious or intentional, during this process of bloodletting, the skin color of the only martyr left alive gets a little darker after a couple of beatings (there’s no logical explanation for this as the martyr in question is never shown to be hurt with anything except her captors’ fists and boots). The martyrs are beaten without a word from their jailers, as if to show that the act of beating another person cannot possibly be called an “advanced interrogation tactic.” These girls must first be completely alienated and once they’ve been physically and emotionally broken down, they have their “other”ness and all other traces of their identity forcibly ripped away from them. This means literally losing their skin, the flesh ripped away to reveal glistening tendons and muscles. Any possible sign of their race or gender is thus completely removed, turning them into so much unidentifiable flesh. First the martyr becomes an “other,” then they become nothing. There is no possibility of “getting off” here, just a hyper-real representation of the horror of physical suffering. This is the kind of movie that justifies its daunting provocation with scant but revealing dialogue like,“People no longer envisage suffering, young lady.” Martyrs has an intelligence and a dogged determination to do and to say what its predecessors could or would not.

https://www.slantmagazine.com/film/martyrs-2008/

In one pivotal scene Anna discovers a victim, chained in a cellar dungeon beneath a family home. She’s a terrifying sight: her eyes covered with a metal visor which has been nailed into her skull and her emaciated body covered in scars and scratches.

Our first instinct is to shy away – to shun this horrific, yelping creature, who has been brutalised into something less-than human, and is all the more frightening for it. And yet, just as we’re poised for a nasty shock or attack, Anna reaches for the woman’s hand, presumably offering her the first kind, truly human contact she has received for years.

In a film filled with savagery and horror, it’s a moment that shocks to the core: a reminder that unexpected tenderness can be as viscerally, skin-shiveringly affecting as torture.

...Like the worst real-world monsters (Josef Mengele is the obvious example), the movie’s torturers, whose true motivation is revealed in the final act, are also convinced that they’re doing the right thing. They see themselves as experimenters, explorers, brave pioneers – and, disturbingly, Martyrs manages to temporarily put its audience into their blood-stained shoes. Even as we wince for the film’s victims, we find ourselves simultaneously desperate to know what their abusers will uncover.

Ultimately, horror movies can frighten us in lots of different ways, combining their inherent darkness with sly humour, adrenalin-fuelled scares, or with painterly splashes of gore. But Martyrs is a rare creation: a 21st-century film that subtly elicits all the sorrow of the preceding century, imbues its scenes of torture with a sense of vivid, heart-breaking pity, and forces us to really feel.  Is it painful to watch? Very much so. But worth the suffering? Absolutely.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/film/what-to-watch/martyrs-2008-pascal-laugier/

Most of the conversation people have about Martyrs concerns its final 30 minutes or so, and for good reason: That’s when the film shifts gears and heads into the torture sequences that have given it such notoriety. (And definitively trumped the most harrowing moments in other French extreme horror movies like High Tension, Frontier(s), and Inside.) What they forget is that the first hour is completely gripping and suspenseful in an entirely different and infinitely more palatable way. Yes, it’s bloody and disturbing in its own right, but it’s also genuinely charged and full of arresting ambiguity, far from the clinical sickness that follows in the third act. Torture isn’t in the foreground yet, but informs the action, as a once-abused child grows up to exact a revenge that may be just or may be the product of a haunted and irretrievably damaged mind.

...In the final act, which is as bloodless and clinical as the first two-thirds were propulsive and emotional, Laugier seeks not just to reveal humankind’s capacity for cruelty and exploitation, but its capacity for suffering as well. The explicitness of Anna’s torture and “martyrdom”—a demonstration of female strength and resilience that’s meant as a (suspect) type of feminism—isn’t quite like that in so-called “torture porn” movie. It’s not mediated by gimmicky machines like those in Saw franchise or carried out in the spirit of psychosis or vengeance, as in Wolf Creekor The Devil’s Rejects. It has more in common with real, institutional forms of torture and human experimentation, and is conducted with an emotional distance that’s infinitely more disturbing and terrible. We simply watch Anna get broken down—systematically, inexplicably:

...And so on, until she’s so completely pliant that she doesn’t wince or fight or feel fear any more. Then it’s on to “Stage Four,” which is so horrific it isn’t worth describing. All of these sessions are handled in brief, methodical chunk, followed by a cut to black. They have the effect of breaking down the audience, too, because we eventually come to the realization that Anna—though strong and resilient in the classic “Final Girl” way—has about as much chance of extricating herself from this situation as detainees not named Harold and Kumar have of escaping Guantanamo Bay. Being robbed of that narrative expectation is incredibly deflating, even soul-crushing, and I think Laugier means it to be. On some level, Martyrs feels like a comment on other films of its kind, because it shuts down any notion that pleasure could be derived from watching it. It feels like the death of extreme horror—or at least takes the subgenre as far as it can conceivably go.

https://film.avclub.com/martyrs-1798223075

@lobotomybarbie

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Secret injuries

Veg-notables: This went in a direction I did not expect it to go.. As I woke up this morning inspiration hit me up the back of the head and I ended up rewriting the whole thing from a different perspective than I had intended. Scrapped over 1100 words as Kayo burst in the front door and demanded I write her instead of Scott and V… She can be rather scary and demanding.. 

Thanks  @gumnut-logic for dealing with me filling your inbox through I know this is not what I originally sent you last night and well.. I am expecting various hard candies to be lobbed my way.. 

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: Hospital room conversations, a little medical jargon and some emotional turmoil.  

Characters: Kayo, Scott and a sleeping V.. yes he is out cold but only sleeping this time. 

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous posts can be found HERE.

24.Secret Injuries

Enjoy…

oOo

When Kayo returned sometime later the room was quiet again, the only sound that of heart monitor and the ambient noise from the hallway through the door at her back.  The shuffling of feet,  the squeak of wonky wheel on an IV pole as it was pushed by,  the laugh of a nurse.  

Despite the lightening of the mood,  the lessening of the dread that  pulled the family down there was still a lick of something hanging like a fine gossamer shroud over everything.  An inkling of apprehension that tickled up the back of her neck and had her checking blind spots and exits out of habit.

Drawing in a deep breath to calm her nerves,  Kayo crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the thick wood paneling of the rooms only egress.  Taking in the now familiar space and its two occupants with a critical eye.

A top-notch ICU room with all the bells and whistles that money could buy.  Temperature controlled,  recessed linear circadian optic lighting,  drone docks hidden away behind remotely accessed ceiling panels,  an alphabet worth of med scanners and monitor,   heated gels filled bio-bed with anti-grav capabilities, the works.  Helped that the family had made several large anonymous donations over the years.

If the donations had been anything but anonymous Kayo was pretty sure there would be a wing with the Tracy name on it but the Tracy’s weren’t the type to  flaunt their charitable endeavors.  Stroking egos was the last thing on their minds, their only goal was to save lives in anyway they could so they used their money.  Considering they had enough to buy a small country several times over,  the hospital had benefited greatly from their generosity. 

Now the Tracy’s were benefiting for their own kindness and they had a fleet of some of the world’s top Doctors to go along with it which she was eternally grateful for.    

Virgil; the man whom she had come inexplicable entangled with, was asleep again.  Propped up amongst bleach white pillows and snoring softly. Her eyes instinctively watched his chest, counter the length of the rise and fall of his chest, the  tightness in her own loosening as the information in her head computed back as safe, alive, still with her. Thank God. 

She noted randomly that the bed had been adjusted, most likely in an attempt to alleviate the discomfiture he had been experience since rousing from his coma, that he was trying and failing miserably at hide from her.  She was well acquainted with his penchant to spare those around him from worry but really,  after everything that had happened?.. Men. 

Shaking her head at her other half, she turned her attention to Scott.    

He sat hunched over close by, eyes distant as he stared off at the middle distance in deep thought.  Elbows braced on his knees,  hands rubbing worriedly between his thighs as if trying to wipe something off them. 

Kayo narrowed in on the movement,  her mind conjuring up scenarios and only dark things came to mind as the bruised knuckles finally registered. She’d missed that in the drama of her world coming unhinged at the seams.  

She pushed away from the door,  stepped further into the room and Scott’s eyes finally shifted to her.  No surprise on his expression at seeing her there.  He hadn’t acknowledged her upon entry but he’d known she was there. 

“The blockers are helping enough.”  His voice though soft, was heavy with emotion but Kayo didn’t comment on it. 

“I know.”  She replied coming up the end of the bed and resting her hand on one of Virgil’s covered feet. A physical act of reassurance she couldn’t explain but viscerally needed.  

“His speech..” He started and couldn’t seem to finish.

“I know,  Doctor’s said there could be some neurological damage from the cerebral edema. He has no idea he is slurring or muddling up some of his words but it’s gotten better since he woke up.  Swelling is still going down.”

Scott’s head bobbed up and down once.  “Nurse came by.” 

“I ran into her just outside,  she filled me in.  The neurologist will be by in a bit, she’s just getting out of surgery..”  Kayo stopped, unsure if she should continue or not.  Scott wasn’t doing so well and she didn’t want to burden him more.  He already blamed himself for GlobalMax. 

She needn’t had hesitated though, Scott already knew.  

“They keep checking his pupil response every time they come in.”  

Kayo closed her eyes, a despondent weight settling over her. The news she had secretly been dreading, fears that she had been right about voiced and confirmed by Scott with his concerned words.

“Did he say anything to you?” She asked, knowing that if Virgil hadn't told her about his sight the chances were slim that he would have mentioned it to Scott. 

“Not a peep but I suspected as much.  The Doctors did warn us.”  Scott looked down, rubbed once more at his battered fists, flicked his glance at the growing  medi-chart that hung off the end of the bed.  

Kayo watched Scott worry away at his hands,  his apprehension tightening his shoulders, distorting his usually impeccable posture.  “Have you put any ice on those?” She queried, shock spearing through his eyes as they shot up to hers.  

She leaned on the bed by Virgil’s feet,  hands in her lap playing with loose thread of her sweater.  “He might not be able to see the damage, Scott but I certainly can.”  She waited a beat,  “So can the others, mind you they won’t ask but they’re worried  about you and so am I.” 

Something flashed in his eyes at that, something she hadn’t seen in a long time as his vibrant blue gaze jetted up to hers and skittered away again.

Her own pulse kicked at the look but it was an instant only.  Something that would never be followed through on or explored.  It was from a childish youth years before she knew the truth of her adult self.  The strength of her feelings for the sleeping man quietly snoring at her back.  His leg resting against her spine, residual heat from his fading fever radiating through her clothing and warming her skin. 

Had she known then what she did now, that wellspring of youthful emotion would have fizzled to non-existence but that was the journey of life.  To experience its highs and it lows, and to see how far one could go in either direction without breaking or succumbing.  She'd found her peak, the pinnacle of her high and it was interwoven intricately with the mind behind loving, steady, sable brown eyes.  

Scott's athletic shoulders shrugged, not as wide as his brothers but just as able in a rescue. They carried many a burden, had sagged slightly under pressure but held firm time and again to whatever life threw at them.  This time though she wasn't too sure as doubt glossed over their resilience, maybe this time it would be too much. 

"You really should get them tended." She was well versed in the pain he was most likely experiencing having had her fair share of tussles over the years.  Some she'd won, some she'd lost but the pain in one's hands was always the same.  Bone deep and achy.  

"I will..just…". His attention turned to Virgil. Scott hadn't left his side since his return from wherever he had disappeared to but Kayo had her suspicions.  The haunted look in his eyes told her plenty.  

"Scott," Kayo put a hand in his jumping knee, the one she was sure he hadn't been aware danced up and down when he was overly tired and distraught. It stopped its mad jitter, his piercing blue turned back to her. "When was the last time you slept?" 

He'd comforted her during her time of need, now it was her turn to do the same in whatever small way he would allow.  She knew it was hard for him to admit needing it, a task usually delegated to Virgil to suss out but he wasn’t up to it and it would be sometime before he would be. 

"I'm doing okay, Tin". A childhood name, one seldom used and a testament to Scott’s current troubled mind.  

"No, you're not." 

His eyes shifted to the hand still on his knee and she lifted it, tucked it into the crook of her arm as she folded them again across her chest.  

“I have to be.” For his family, for the commander he was forced to be in the absence of their Father.

"Grandma was asking after you, maybe you should go and see her. She’s gotten antsy since the Doctor’s veto’ed her access to force her to rest.” Kayo tipped her head towards the door. “I wont leave him.”  

“She made you come in here to get me, didn’t she?”  He knew the woman well.

Kayo’s lips perked,  “You know Grandma,  always looking after her boys.”  She stood, offered Scott a hand.   “It was either me or TI security and a tranq’ gun. I figured I was the better option.”, 

Scott snorted, “You figured right since I could fire them all.” He took her hand,  groaned as she dragged him up to his feet.  

He stood in front of her a moment, close and she caught a whiff of his aftershave so different from Virgil’s but so Scott.  An awkward beat and she stepped back swinging out her arm to gesture towards the door dramatically.  “After you.” 

A slight uptick of a smile,  a flash of dimples before a quick glance over to his supine sibling. “You’re right.” He said as he stepped past her, long legs eating up the short distance. 

He stopped at the door,  back to her still. “Kayo…?”

“Yes?”  Her fingers combing through Virgil’s hair, brushing the tangled mess back from his pale brow.  

“..nevermind..”  and Scott was gone, the door swinging shut quietly in his wake. 

Not all injuries were visible but they hurt all the same.  

oOo

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[destinychose-a]

👫 for red and green or leon and hop!

SEND A 👫FOR FOUR HEADCANONS I HAVE ABOUT OUR MUSE’S RELATIONSHIP  /  SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING!

RED + GREEN

1.     After returning from Mt. Silver, Red makes a conscious effort to maintain some form of contact with Green on a daily basis. Whether via text, notes left in places Green will see them or dropping by to visit him in person, Red makes sure to make his presence known in some shape or form in order to reassure Green  (  and himself  )  that he’s not going to leave his best friend the way he did once before ever again.

2.     Red has struggled with social anxiety from childhood, but after spending years in isolation atop Mt. Silver, he soon discovers it has worsened since his return. He becomes anxious to the point of panic attacks over the thought of having all eyes on him once again, consumed with the fear that his every action is being judged by those around him. Despite his best intentions, he finds himself slipping into old habits over the months following his return — withdrawing from social interactions and isolating himself. 

At first, he battles with these feelings alone until Green ultimately picks up on things, issuing the stern reminder that Red can rely on him no matter what, as a rival and best friend. While it does little to lessen his anxiety, Green becomes a grounding force in his life during his toughest moments. For any reason, if the two of them are in a crowded area, Red will often tug on Green’s sleeve in silent request to hold his hand, or if he feels overwhelmed in a social situation, he often looks to Green to deflect any prying eyes or uncomfortable questions. With Green at his side, Red slowly begins to find ways to cope and it’s with his support that Red eventually seeks out professional help.

3.     Despite his stoic exterior, Red is an extremely casually affectionate boyfriend. Once the two of them are settled into their relationship, Red will be all over Green at any given moment: holding his hand, hugging him from behind, leaning against his side, resting his chin on his shoulder, touching his back as he squeezes past, kissing his cheek/forehead/hands/lips in greeting, lying with his head in Green’s lap… Anything that involves making sure Green knows he’s loved? You can bet Red will deliver.

4.     Red is undoubtedly Green’s fiercest supporter. From day one, back when they were kids, Red has always believed that Green would one day become someone great in his own right, no matter what path he chooses to take. That support has increased tenfold since Red’s return from Mt. Silver, especially after he witnessed for himself how much Green had grown in their time apart. His belief in Green is as unshakeable as Green’s belief in him is.

HOP + LEON

1.     Hop has admired Leon for as long as he can remember and holds him to high-esteem, to the point of worshipping him as his own personal hero. While his relationship with his brother is very strong, healthy and open, Leon’s mighty achievements have unconsciously had an adverse effect on Hop’s wavering self-esteem. During the events of the game, he constantly compared himself to Leon at every turn, weighing his shortcomings against Leon’s strengths, to the point of becoming obsessed with the thought that he needs to follow in Leon’s footsteps or else he’s worthless. 

After officially starting his journey as a Pokémon trainer, these feelings worsened, and while Hop tried not to let it show around Leon, it started to put a slight strain on their once open and honest relationship. He wanted nothing more than to be acknowledged by him and seen as his rival, but as his attempts to excel as a trainer were thwarted at every turn, Hop became consumed with doubt. As he came closer to realising that he’ll never reach the same achievements as his brother, Hop found it harder to be around Leon one-on-one, writing himself off as worthless when compared to his older brother and worrying that his weaknesses would reflect badly upon his brother’s glowing reputation.

These feelings are further affirmed when he fails to beat his rival and finally face Leon in battle, as he’d dreamed of doing all the way through his journey. He begins to self-reflect, wondering if being a Pokémon trainer is something he’s cut out to be — for all he loves to battle, having his self-worth tied so heavily to victory was proving to take a toll on his mental health and relationships with those around him, including his Pokémon partners. Though tentative and still struggling with low self-esteem, Hop begins to reevaluate what he wants to do with his future.

After stopping Sordward and Shielbert’s plans, soothing Zacian/Zamazenta and ultimately adding the Legendary Pokémon to his team  (  also read: getting himself adopted by it  ), Hop finally begins to accept that it’s okay if he doesn’t follow in Leon’s footsteps. He decides to chase after a new dream: to become a Pokémon Professor, under Sonia’s tutelage, a move his brother supports. After hearing Leon acknowledge him as his rival, it turns out to be the final push Hop needs to embrace himself for who he is and where he stands. While aware he still has much to learn and a lot of emotional hurdles to overcome, it’s the first time he finally starts to see himself on the same level as his brother rather than as a distant, untouchable goal.

2.     Hop has many embarrassing stories about Leon from while they were growing up together and has years of perfect blackmail stored away for a rainy day. However, as with all siblings, this is something that goes both ways. As such, one of the few things preventing Hop from airing his older brother’s embarrassing secrets is the fact that Leon has twice as much ammunition against him that he’d rather not let anyone  (  especially Gloria/Victor/Bede  )  know about.

3.     Leon helped Hop catch his Wooloo shortly after his 8th birthday. After desperately insisting he wanted a Pokémon partner of his own and declaring his intentions to become a Pokémon trainer, just like his big brother, Leon agreed to help him. In addition to being Hop’s best friend and partner, Wooloo signifies the bond between Leon and Hop, their shared love of Pokémon and of battling.

4.     Where Leon’s sense of direction is terrible, Hop’s is fairly decent by comparison. Many times has he received a sheepish call from his brother asking for directions after he managed to get himself lost, and even at a younger age, he’s set out in search of Leon after he failed to return home for dinner. At this point, Hop has grown used to it and even come to expect it, though not to the point of exasperation.

[toneofdarkness]

Character Development Outline

Origins and Family

Name:  Rei Sakuma Nickname:  Vampire Bastard  //  Rei Sakuma of the Three/Five Oddballs  //  Anija  //  Useless/Annoying Bug  //  the Demon King  //  various honorifics attached to his name or surname Reason for name:  His name literally means ‘zero’, 'nothing’ Birthday:  2nd November Age:  18-19; he’s the oldest student in the idol course at present time Gender:  Male Place of birth:  Japan, probably Places lived since:  Japan, an unnamed country in the Arabian Peninsula, England, Italy, Transylvania...Rei travels a lot.

Parents’ names, backgrounds, and occupations

Parents:  They haven’t been revealed yet, so I made up their names. Number of siblings:  1 (Ritsu) Relationship with family:  Distant; Rei used to be close with his younger brother only, but even they drifted far apart. Happiest memory:  The times he used to spend together with Ritsu as children //  being with [UNDEAD] Childhood trauma:  Being treated like he’s the advent of some holy angel or dark deity. Children of their own:  None. Relationship?:  Depends on the verse.

Physical

Height:  5′10″ / 179 cm. Weight:  134 lbs. / 61 kg. Build:  Slender, a bit of noticeable muscles Nationality:  Japanese Disabilities:  Lethargic during the day, especially when the sun is out; Rei fares better if it’s really cloudy. Complexion:  Pale; it’s like he’s dead. Face shape:  Round, a bit angular at the jawline. Distinguishing facial features:  Red eyes, noticeable fangs. Hair color:  Raven black Eye color:  Dark red/almost brownish, blood red (depending on the light sources) Glasses/contacts:  None, but he really needs a pair. Style of dress:  Proper, though Rei dresses up like a dad... Health:  Awful; Rei’s really careless about his own health, and needs someone to look after him. Grooming:  He tries to regularly maintain his appearance, if his daytime lethargy permits it. Jewelry, tattoos, piercings:  Pierced ears; Rei wears a pair of stud earrings with an eye-catching red color that contrasts sharply with his black hair. Accent:  Fluent, if he's in 'business mode'. Otherwise, expect some gratuitous Engrish. Physical habits:  

Sleeps during the day, even if he tries to keep himself awake. He has no qualms about where he sleeps, however.

He gives plenty of headpats.

Other than that, he tries to physically keep his distance from others, except for a few notable people.

Intellect

Level of education:   Still in high school, but Rei’s a genius who could accelerate if he wanted. Level of self esteem:  Very high; Rei would have to be if he could keep up his ‘old man’ act despite negative reactions, dismissing them with an amused laugh. Talents:  superstar-level stage performance  //  magic spells/curses  //  higher-than-human strength, speed and agility  //  genius-level intellect  //  persuasion and charm  //  energy drain  //  paralyzing glare *these are more effective at night; daylight weakens him, but not to the point of total ineptness Shortcomings:  Genius as he is, Rei has difficulty understanding human social norms, leading him to do seemingly mean-spirited things when he really means well or to say things that aren’t appropriate. He comes off as 'eccentric'. Style of speech:  Archaic and obsolete. Most of the time, Rei talks like your typical doting, all-knowing grandfather, and it pisses the hell out of everybody. Artistic/mathematical:  Artistic. Makes decisions on emotion or logic:  Logic. Which tends to make him seem like some unfeeling monster. Life philosophy:  “If I can help, then I will. Or die trying in the process. Worry not; I’m already dead~” Someone, snap him out of that mindset. Religious stance:  Rei’s not so religious, despite quoting religious references from time to time. Cautious/daring:  It’s a mix of both; Rei can come up with the most outrageous, but effective plans, but he won’t execute them if the people involved would be greatly hurt by it. Otherwise, if it’s just himself getting hurt, then he’s all in on his plans. The kicker is, people will know of his plans and intentions only when it’s too late. Extrovert/introvert:  Extrovert; Rei lives on other people’s attention. Unfortunately, his genetic condition forces him to become nocturnal, a time when most people are asleep.

Relationships

Relationship status:  Verse dependent. Rei’s canonically single though. Sexual orientation:  Verse dependent. Rei does take notice of those who catch his interest, however. Past relationships:  Depends on the verse. Although it's hinted that Rei was close to Keito Hasumi. Primary reason for being broken up with:  Rei’s too much of a wild card; he refuses to be tied down to anyone. Primary reason for breaking up with people:  They’ve disappointed him, usually in matters that are really very important to him. Level of sexual experience:  Rei’s knowledgeable enough. Story of first kiss:  Disappointing. Story of loss of virginity:  No. Most comfortable around who:  His fellow Oddballs. Rei does consider them to be his equals. Oldest friend:  Keito Hasumi. They’ve known each other since childhood. Although they did have some years apart due to Keito distancing himself from Rei, and then they met again in high school at Yumenosaki. How do they think others perceive them:  A Vampire-wannabe. A frightening monster. A stupid old man...Rei doesn’t care though; in fact, it works in his favor. How do others actually perceive them:  Contrary to what Rei believes, the others do see him as a very dependable senior, and a sad, tired, lonely person who deserves only the best in the world. Rei never believes it whenever he’s told that, and would insist that he’s a horrible monster who deserves nothing but hell.

Vocation

Profession:  high school student, idol, depends on verse. Past / current occupation(s):  Idol belonging to the unit [UNDEAD], world-famous superstar performer, depends on verse. Passions:  singing and dancing, tomatoes and ham Attitude towards current job:  Rei takes it seriously, for his unitmates’ sake, and for the future of young idols. Attitude towards current coworkers/bosses/employees:  Rei considers them to be his children/grandchildren. Yes, he'd dote on even those older than him. Salary:  Rei would rather not disclose the amount. But, to get an idea, he can afford a 60,000 Yen belt, and can wear Prada as his regular clothes, and can just give away an electric guitar that’s probably worth a fortune, along with its bag that costs 25,000 Yen...

Secrets

(  Every character should have secrets  )

Life Goals:  Rei’s aiming to have the human population to be more accepting of his kind, and vice versa. He’s like a mediator between the two ‘races’. Greatest fears:  Failing others yet again. Most ashamed of:  His inability to do everything, and anything despite his talents and skills. If only he could be at several places at once...But, alas, Rei’s only one person. Compulsions:  The thought of the futures of his friends and colleagues being crushed unjustly, that’s a big no-no. Rei will fight whatever that tries to cause that. Obsessions:  Tomatoes. Secret hobbies:  Keeping in touch with his contacts, ready to crush scandals before they come to light. Touching up on subjects he’s not knowledgeable enough so he can continue being ‘omniscient’. Secret skills:  Rei has formed a very extensive network that may not be completely relevant to his occupation. That doesn’t seem too much of a secret, but he can still surprise one or two people with his revelations. He can also walk/crawl on walls and ceilings. Crimes committed:  ...Do breaking promises, and consequently hearts count…? What do they most want to change about their physical appearance:  None; Rei’s content with what he has.

Details

Daily routine:  Sleeps all day unless he has the energy to attend class to fill the minimum required days of attendance so he could finally graduate. Gets woken up in the afternoon so he could eat, catches up on the day’s activities with the people concerned, catch up on practice, see the others off as they go home, do homework and work, wander around the school like some ghost...Or Rei could go home, if he’s feeling it... Night owl or early bird:  Absolutely a night owl; Rei is utterly miserable during the day. Favorite food:  Dry-cured ham, and tomatoes. Least favorite food:  Garlic. Super spicy food. Least favorite movie:  Horror movies; Rei believes that the monsters are being portrayed unfairly. But, he falls asleep within fifteen minutes after the movie started anyway. Favorite music:  Rock, Jazz, Classical. Least favorite music:  Those funky robot-sounding genres. Coffee or tea:  Tea. Crunchy or smooth peanut butter:  Crunchy. There's simply something about those peanut pieces that imparts a salty touch to the peanut butter, and Rei likes that. Lefty or righty:  Righty. Favorite color:  Purple. Cusser:  He used to...But, Rei sometimes slips up on rare occasions. Smoker/drinker/drug user:  Absolutely not. Biggest regret:  Not being there when and where he's needed. It's really eating at him from within. Pets:  Does Wanko count…?