xiaolangs

Syaoran Li – ISTJ, The Duty Fulfiller

“ISTJs are responsible, loyal and hard working. They have an acute sense of right and wrong and work hard at preserving established norms and traditions. Because of their deep sense of duty they are dedicated to everything they do and are very dependable. ISTJs care deeply for those closest to them.”

“ISTJs are quiet and reserved individuals who are interested in security and peaceful living. They have a strongly-felt internal sense of duty, which lends them a serious air and the motivation to follow through on tasks. Organized and methodical in their approach, they can generally succeed at any task which they undertake.”

“ISTJs are very loyal, faithful, and dependable. They place great importance on honesty and integrity. They are “good citizens” who can be depended on to do the right thing for their families and communities.”

“The ISTJ is extremely dependable on following through with things which he or she has promised.”

“The ISTJ will work for long periods of time and put tremendous amounts of energy into doing any task which they see as important to fulfilling a goal. However, they will resist putting energy into things which don’t make sense to them, or for which they can’t see a practical application. They prefer to work alone, but work well in teams when the situation demands it.”

“ISTJs are likely to be uncomfortable expressing affection and emotion to others. However, their strong sense of duty and the ability to see what needs to be done in any situation usually allows them to overcome their natural reservations, and they are usually quite supporting and caring individuals with the people that they love. Once the ISTJ realizes the emotional needs of those who are close to them, they put forth effort to meet those needs.“

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tsubasa resevoir chronicles characters as zodiac signs. [PART. 1]

  • taurus: stability, sometimes mulish, permanence, lasting feelings, willpower, determined, loyal, sense of justice.
  • scorpio: mysterious, hidden power, change, difficult searches, apparently quiet but agressive inside, powerful, destructive, good advicer.
  • leo: proud, strong, powerful, outgoing, born to royalty, good leader, overcoming, sometimes violent and rude.

Here’s the continuation of the infographic project I started with this general timeline of CLAMP publications. I took a crack at making a unified timeline for Cardcaptor Sakura, TSUBASA RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE, and xxxHOLiC. Some other fans have put out TRC timelines in the past, but I wanted to make something that was simultaneously attractive and easy to read on its own. As always, comments, corrections, and questions are welcome!

Please note the following when reading this chart:

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The Red of His Name

Month of Fanfiction - Day 10 - An AU. Fenris/f!Hawke, Chinese/Japanese medieval AU, 1160 words, sfw. I translated their names (or tried to, anyway): Takanohime is Princess/Lady Hawk; Xiaolang is literally written “little wolf” (although the actual meaning is apparently “coyote” haha), and Shaoran is just the approximate pronunciation in Japanese. I should also mention that dragons are associated with rainfall and water in East Asian mythology.


Takanohime hooked her fingers around the string of red silk, diamond figures crisscrossing the space between her hands. Her thumbs slipped over the string, then under, pulled it down, twisted it around her fingers, then let it loose.

“They say that a bunny rabbit lives in the moon,” she said from above the tangle of knots and loops, “pounding rice cakes.”

She gave the string a few tugs, and it settled between her hands into the double-loop shape of a rabbit’s ears as she held it up for him to see.

Then she grinned, the scarlet of her lips parting onto teeth lacquered black.

“I’ve heard that it’s the moon goddess,” Xiaolang replied, “making her elixir of life.”

The rustle of her silks was not unlike the endless sigh of the rain that fell past the open screens, onto the sloping eaves of the mansion, the stones lining the alley that led to the lake, the pond in the garden. The fog had palled all colour—even the long stalks of the irises and the flame-bright flickers of the fish in the water—so that all that remained was the red of her mouth, of her robe’s lining as it hung about her waist, of the silken string hanging loose from her fingers.

It was the red of temple roofs in the imperial capital, of the channels once etched into his skin, of the cinnabar that stained his master’s teeth. It was the red that came after swallows of orpiment, the red that fell before his eyes whenever his ghosts found him, the red of the name that had been bestowed upon him like a brand.

“Xiaolang,” it would come spilling with a mouthful of blood, “my little wolf.”

His name was no less red when spoken—whispered, breathed, laughed—from Takanohime’s lips in the strange tongue of the Eight Islands, but he had grown fond of it, as he had the flush that crept up her neck.

Shaoran.

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