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SAMANTHA BARNES

9w8

“I didn’t know what it would be like…. Caring about people. People who are alive. How wonderful and terrifying it all is. I didn’t know that my actions could have consequences because they never did before. Not since…well. I never had an effect on the world around me. And I got used to that. But that hasn’t been true for a while now…” 

Sam is introduced in The Bright Sessions as so deeply disintegrated, she appears very much like a Six- incredibly anxious, obsessed with anticipating and managing possible threats, so desperate to avoid conflicts- internal and external- that she self-isolates to the point that she rarely leaves the house and has no social relationships to speak of. As an unhealthy Nine, she struggles with asserting herself and has difficulties with change that result in an inertia that pervades every aspect of her life, despite, as Dr Bright puts it, a great desire to find “order in the chaos,” and to create lasting peace of mind for herself and her loved ones. While as the series progresses, she goes on to confront her basic fears and move in the direction of her basic desires, proceeding generally towards integration, the stressors she faces contribute to disintegrated behaviour displayed even late into the series. 

Basic Desire: To have inner stability "peace of mind"

“I have an Olympic gold medal in shutting myself off from the world.”

Like many Nines, Sam is often extremely conflict averse. Indeed, she’s introduced as diffident and eager to please;

“I’m Sam, Samantha, my name is Samantha Barnes but you can call me Sam. Or Samantha. Either one is fine, whatever you’re comfortable with. It’s your office.”

Sam’s tendency to self-isolate is not only a result of her fear of loss, but a result of that desire for “peace of mind,”- Sam’s anxiety disorder is severe enough to be triggered by mundane things, and she finds herself “nervous” about day-to-day activities including “grocery shopping,” and “talking to people,”- so she does what so many Nines do, and turns to avoidance as much as possible. For instance, she mentions no longer being able to attend the cinema because the darkness and noise is triggering, and only makes microwave meals in case she time-travels while using the stove and burns her house down. Even her time-travel itself, as much stress as it causes her, is a manifestation of her desire for stability, and dictated by her inner landscape;

Dr Bright: “I think the [time travel is] your body’s way of trying to calm down during a panic attack. When you’re in emotional or physical turmoil, your body transports you to a different place that it deems safe. As if it's choosing flight over fight…”

Sam: “So I’m basically just always trying to find calm.”

It’s important to note that at first, Sam enjoys her “visits,” to different time periods as welcome escapes from the stresses of her everyday life. This atypical coping mechanism is comparable to the fantasies and daydreams real life Nines will often retreat into. 

However, somewhat unusually for a Nine, Sam is well aware of her state of inertia from the start of the story and she repeatedly expresses a desire to break out of it;

“I’m tired of waiting

I’m tired of hiding

I’m tired of wanting,”

Her way of living, fine-tuned as it is to avoid conflict wherever possible, becomes in and of itself a source of internal conflict in an unhappy, self-perpetuating cycle;

“When I [time travel], I’m nowhere. I’m invisible. I’m no one. And it’s not better here [in the present], where I have no life, no friends. I don’t exist anywhere! I’m so scared of everything and I’m starting. To lose. My mind!”

It’s Sam’s desire for genuine internal stability that necessitates that she abandon her dependence on avoidance and self-isolation. Nines are often described as being “asleep,” both to their true nature and the world around them. Apart from comparing living her life to “sleepwalking,” this pervasive numbness is something Sam struggles with- her lifestyle leaves her feeling like “[her] brain [isn’t] being fully used.” While she was aware of it, it took meeting Mark, whom she describes as her “catalyst,” to change her behaviour and mindset.

“Working with Joan, and meeting you, and saving you it- it woke me up. It gave me a purpose…”

“I think somewhere amongst all the tragedy, and the panic, and the loneliness, I forgot how to be a person. Or, at least, the person I can be. And now I feel like I’m waking up for the first time in a decade.”

 It takes a glimpse of that reflection of her self-imprisonment in Mark, confined against his will, (“I know what that’s like - to be trapped like that,”) to prompt the realisation that the only way out is through, and spur her into action in efforts to achieve peace in the long term for the pair of them;

“I’ve spent my whole life afraid, it’s nothing new. I’m not going to walk away. Even before talking to him, I could have never lived with myself if I let someone rot in the past like that. Now that I have talked to him, well, I want to get him out as much as you do.”

Coming to terms with her own agency is a frightening process for her, as she herself admits;

Sam: “Whatever I am, I think what’s important is that I finally have options.” 

Chloe: “And that’s terrifying on its own.”

Sam: “Right. “

Chloe: “But it’s not terrifying in the same way as before.”

Sam: “No.”

It invites conflict in a way that undermines her inner stability, but, crucially, she begins to recognise that standing still has done the same. Compounded with the other stresses she faces throughout the series, Sam is left between a rock and a hard place, due to the conflict that arises when, to achieve her basic desire, she must confront her basic fear;

“I’m- I'm just stuck. But I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to move forward with you but I have no idea how. So I just keep pretending. I keep pretending that I know what I’m doing, that I’m confident in my decisions, that I know how to help…. I’m just- I'm not sure I’ve ever been this lost.”

Basic Fear: Of loss and separation

“I’ve been sleepwalking through my life - just waiting for the other shoe to drop, to get stuck, or to hurt someone again, or for someone to find out about me and lock me up and experiment on me- god, I'm sorry.”

After the loss of her parents, Sam approaches her life in terms of mitigating the risks of potential personal losses. Consumed by this worry, she begins the series afraid to form attachments at all, living in fear of the possible impact of her uncontrollable time-travelling episodes, concerned that they could drive others away or bring harm to them.

Dr. Bright: “And no one has even seen this happen?”

Sam: “Um, I just tend to avoid…um. People.”

As time-travelling causes her to disappear without warning, they are by their nature a sort of forcible, unpredictable separation, and as such, force her to live with the threat of her basic fear constantly;

“I’m terrified all the time. When I’m not actively disappearing I’m worried about disappearing. I’m worried about, about being caught, about hurting someone, about not coming back.”

The death of her parents-  the result of a car accident when she vanishes from the driver’s seat- is what causes Sam’s basic fear to become entangled with her time-travelling to begin with, causing her to live in a state of extreme anxiety, functioning much of the time more like an unhealthy Six than a Nine. Even after her parents’ deaths, much of Sam’s life is dictated by a fear of losing her memories of, and feelings of closeness to, her late parents- a fear, by own admission, of a further loss, despite the fact that she has already “lost,” them in the physical sense;

 “Don’t you get it? I can’t lose them again. I owe it to them to remember.”

Ultimately, this fear leads Sam to shape her life around remaining close to them, which further perpetuates her own isolation;

“I’m just a ghost, haunting this city, moving their things from house to house like some sort of shrine. That’s— I know. I know how bad that is. I’ve been living with the dead for so long - in my house, in the past, in my own head...”

The idea of moving away from the area where they raised her is anxiety-inducing enough to send her into a panic attack. This fear of change pervades other relationships in Sam���s life as well; while visiting Mark, still, trapped in the past, she neglects to tell him that she is working on a solution with his sister ostensibly because of the potential conflict and complications to their relationship that conversation might involve; 

Chloe: “I get it. You don’t want to burst the little bubble you guys are in.”

Sam: “Yeah. I’ve vaguely mentioned that I’m looking into solutions. But I haven’t wanted to make it seem too real, yet. I’ll tell him once we get it all figured out. Once we feel as confident as we can that it’ll work. I just, I don’t want to make promises to him I can’t keep. I don’t think I could stand to disappoint him.”

This is one of the earlier instances of Sam deliberately sweeping problems under the rug to avoid the potential turmoil and loss of relationship conflict, a pattern which continues particularly as her Eight wing starts to become more pronounced.

When Sam does find new relationships, much of her energy becomes invested towards trying to ensure she won’t lose the comfort they introduce to her life and the people she cares for- her relationship with Mark is arguably largely defined by her desire not to lose him; 

“I’m scared for you. I just want to keep you safe.”

Her nightmares reflect these fears- in Episode 50: Rose, she has a dream during which she- quite literally- loses Mark in their new home, and suffers a panic attack upon being unable to find him and she goes on to express a belief that losing him is in fact, an inevitability;

“He’s just like everyone else,

He’ll soon be in your past,” 

Though he makes her “want to believe,” she describes this as a “want to be foolish”- her experiences have led her to believe the idea of keeping Mark is an unattainable dream- more of an expectation than a fear. The dread that comes with this supposed inevitably remains intense late into the series, and contributes to the breakdown of their relationship;

 “I love you and it’s…it's like having a stomach ache all the time. And I keep doing things to try and make it less painful and none of it works. Because you’re you and I’m me and our lives are just filled with uncertainty and danger.”

The potential loss is all she can focus on- to the point that she loses the peace and stability being with Mark previously brought her- being in love with him is “a stomach ache,”- in this state of disintegration, Sam’s basic fears are so overpowering that her basic desires are completely out of her reach. To avoid this situation precisely, Sam, who understands that life is inherently rife with both internal and external conflict, tries to acknowledge and accept her fears;

“Dr. Bright and I have spent a lot of time talking about acceptance. She’s told me that, even if I do get my ability totally under control, I might still have the occasional panic attack and leave without meaning to. And that I should try to accept that. Life is going to be stressful. Bad things are going to happen. It’s about how you respond that matters and that’s- that's what I’m trying to figure out.”

But this still isn’t something she has fully come to terms with by the end of The Bright Sessions, leading her to make mistakes in her desperation to control her circumstances and hold onto that which she fears to lose.

Disintegration to Six:

“It’s about survival, Sam // Never let down your guard,”

As aforementioned, Sam spends much of her life seriously disintegrated, and isolating herself out of fear. Dr. Bright describes the Sam she first meets as “malleable and desperate,” lacking “trust in herself,”- the caricature of an unhealthy Six. Gripped by an anxiety disorder, threat-obsessed, and in dire need of support, latching onto Dr. Bright even as she maintains a deep suspicion of her, Sam has all the hallmarks. Beginning to establish supportive relationships, her anxious tendencies do lessen a bit- but they are so familiar and habitual to her that she practically defines herself by them. It even becomes something of a running joke between her and Mark;

“You know, you can take the cape off for a day, Anxiety Girl. The world is not going to crumble around you ... No, no, it’s alright. You’re always preparing for the worst, I get it.”

 Her desire to protect is something that ties into her Eight wing (see below) but her constant vigilance and her distrust towards authorities such as the A.M. which underpin this desire are an unsurprising symptom of her disintegration, as is the ‘us vs. them,’ viewpoint and perception of constant danger- though, admittedly, it’s somewhat justified given her circumstances.

Sam: “You’re asking me to retreat. I’ve done that too many times before—”

Mark: “Retreat? It's not a war, Sam—”

Sam: “It kind of is. And I have a family to protect—”

Integration to Three: 

“I do want to do something with my life. Something productive, worthwhile.”

During The Bright Sessions, Sam doesn’t have much opportunity to demonstrate how she would look when integrated. By the end of the series, she still reacts with knee-jerk worry in the face of potential conflict; 

Dr. Bright: “Is that a slight against my scotch supply?”

Sam: “No, no, god— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”  

But by no means is she quite as averse to it as she was to begin with; 

Sam: “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Sam begins to show tendencies of the healthy Three, becoming more self-developing and energetic, when she finds a project- namely, the improvement of the A.M.- to which she can lend her expertise and strengths. Early in the series, she describes herself as being tired of adventures- but newly ambitious, she begins to take a different tune;

 Dr. Bright: “Do you think you’re ready? For another new adventure?”

Sam: “Yeah, I think I am.”

  w8:

“Imagine what I could do if I was trying, if I had full control.” 

At the start of the series, Sam feels completely out of control, like any unhealthy Eight- she views herself as at the mercy of her time travel and her anxiety disorder. In this desperate situation, her self-isolation is an effort at maintaining control in the only way that she believes she can. Dr. Bright recognises this desire for control, and appeals to it when trying to convince her to harness her powers.

“You can learn to control it.” 

And as the series draws on, Sam becomes very occupied the idea (“I want to take control,”) and her Eight-wing becomes more and more apparent. When she gains some control over her ability, she soon becomes frustrated that she can’t have complete control over it- this is something she has to “try to accept.” This desire for perfect control after dealing with a complete lack of it for years might seem counterintuitive, or even ungrateful, but it demonstrates the importance of control as a motivator for Sam, and more critically, her fundamental discomfort confronting a lack of it. 

Like many Nines, Sam is initially out of touch with her anger, to the point that it’s something she jokes about;

“I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Well, you know, if I had enemies, that is.”

But when given proper incentive, she begins to exhibit the “intense eruption[s] of anger,” common to Nines who typically default to repressing it, and especially to Nines with an Eight wing- as when she punches Damien after he abducts Mark, surprising herself and those around her. In comparison with Nines, Eights are typically far more familiar with their tempers, and nothing is as likely to provoke them as the feeling that they (or their loved ones) are being manipulated or controlled against their will. Sam repeatedly lashes out in reaction to precisely this fear- early on in the series when she feels “manipulated,” by Dr. Bright, for example, and towards anyone who contributed to confining or controlling Mark (Dr. Bright again during Zero Hour, and Agent Green when he starts to “check up on” her.) 

Also like a typical Eight, Sam shows repeated reluctance when it comes to expressing vulnerability- she has issues talking openly with Mark and while she initially describes his respect for her privacy to Chloe as one of the reasons why she likes him, her self-described habit of “keeping [him] at arm’s length,” becomes a problem when they enter a genuine relationship, contributing to the communication issues between the pair of them; 

“I love you so much. Do you know that? No, I mean, how could you, it’s not like I’ve ever told you.”

More importantly, Sam’s desire and subsequent efforts to maintain control over her newly dangerous environment eventually lead her to go, in her own words, “full tilt control freak.” Enneagram Institute describes this as a need “to keep the environment, and especially other people, from hurting them and those they care about,” all the while cloaked “in a layer of emotional armor.” Sam likens herself repeatedly to Mark’s “knight in shining armor,”- at first seemingly jokingly, but it’s a role she takes to heart- usually revisited when she perceives that she has failed to keep him safe- and eventually she extends the metaphor to include “dragon[s]”- the potential dangers posed by the various people threatening Mark’s safety;

Mark: “You were still my knight in shining armor. You saved me from the dragon.”

Sam: “But what if there are other dragons? I don’t know how to fight every kind of dragon, you know? If I don’t know what kind of fire they breathe or how resistant you are to that fire—”

Mark: “This metaphor is getting away from you, babe—”

Sam: “I need to know how to keep you safe. And I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable - I know there are things that you don’t want to talk about and I respect that but-”

It’s the unfortunate combination of her desire to maintain control as a result of her Eight wing, and her tendencies away from interpersonal conflict and vulnerability as a Nine with an Eight wing specifically, that lead her to violate Mark’s privacy in the manner that she does- time travelling into the past to observe his personal traumas at the AM and contacting Damien, both without his consent or knowledge, rather than confronting him directly. She does come to realise that she’s becoming an embodiment of exactly that which she fears, undermining the autonomy of those she loves, and hurting them in the process;

Sam: “This isn’t— I’m not this person. I don’t want to be this person.”

Damien: “And what person is that?”

Sam: “The kind that tries to make decisions for other people. I can’t do this.”

Returning, even, to the armor metaphor, realising at last the fundamental flaw in her approach;

“I’ve just been grasping at anything that I could use as armor even if it meant leaving somebody else defenseless.”

“I don’t want to lose him but, even more than that, I don’t want to hurt him.”

What this fear of and desire for control betrays is an unusually well developed Eight-wing, most likely forged in the crucible of what Dr. Bright describes as “loss, and wars, and repeated physical traumas in the form of time manipulation,”- the absence of safety that builds an Eight. It is this same set of experiences and traits that lends Sam genuine strength and willpower that allows her to lead and effectively protect her loved ones in better circumstances. In Safe House, her efforts to take charge of the situation offers a glimpse of her potential, and by the time The AM Archives takes place, she is able to call upon her assertiveness in times of crisis, encouraging Mags and keeping mostly collected in the face of extreme danger. But throughout most of The Bright Sessions itself, Sam’s Eight wing generally manifests in ways that ultimately cause damage to her relationship with herself and those around her. 

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ISABEL LOVELACE

8w7

“Don't die. Be a big girl, and don't die.“

Isabelle Lovelace is a textbook Eight; as a Captain, she is authoritative, resourceful and strong-willed, but also prone to domineering and confrontational behaviour. Upon her return to the Hephaestus, she demonstrates the ruthless, authoritarian streak of a deeply disintegrated Eight, but over the course of the series she is able to integrate back into a healthier Eight, a heroic figure who is genuinely able to protect her crew. 

Basic Fear: Of being harmed or controlled by others

“Oh, I'm not following one of your orders? Gee, must be Monday…”

In comparison with the rest of the cast, who grow to reasonably distrust Goddard after betrayal, Lovelace has never been good with authority of any kind; it’s simply a facet of her personality. This is made clear in Greensboro;

“There's been times when I haven't seen eye-to-eye with my superior officers. Like all those times they gave me stupid orders. On those occasions, I was inclined to carry out my orders with a bit of... creativity.”

Lovelace remains her own ultimate authority, following orders only when they suit her, and as such, she is not truly beholden to them at all. Interestingly, there are pages of glowing testimonials from those who served under Lovelace, while those above her in the chain of command found her to be disobedient and punished her as a result; being a good leader and a bad follower isn’t at all uncommon for an Eight. 

Lovelace takes great pride in her independence, and expresses contempt for those that, in her eyes, allow themselves to be controlled, particularly her rules-obsessed second in command Officer Lambert, who effectively represents this basic fear- she calls him “an asinine teacher’s pet,” and repeatedly admonishes him for a lack of “a mind of his own,” even ridiculing him in front of the rest of her crew. Lambert is in fact the perfect foil to Lovelace, because while he is endlessly obedient to Goddard, he repeatedly undermines her, as Hilbert observes;

“You are perhaps needing someone who... questions superior officer? Who does not immediately do what is told? Who will fight for what they think is right way of doing job?”

Taking all this into account, it’s no wonder Lovelace dislikes Lambert so much when he both represents the control she so fears and the disobedience she cannot tolerate. The anger he provokes causes her to slip into the role of the intimidating Eight, which causes some friction with the rest of her crew, who describe her as “scary,” and observe that her personality is fundamentally combative; “she’d be bored without something to fight against.”  

Lovelace’s preoccupation with control is part of the reason that her discovery that she is an alien replica of her previous self subject to the whims of the aliens who created her is so distrubing for her- this is the avenue the habitually manipulative Kepler takes to try and unsettle her, preying on her basic fear;

“Are you sure that it's you that made the choice? Less than two days ago you were speaking words that weren't your own. … Maybe they're always in control, and they've made it so you can't tell. What if everything you think you're doing for yourself is just our friends out there pulling strings? What if your thoughts aren't your own?”

For Lovelace to even admit that this bothers her is difficult; Eights natrual tendency is to avoid vulnerability. It’s not until her control is completely taken away when she is trapped in a time loop orchestrated by the same aliens in Out of the Loop, driving her to disintegration and essentially forcing her to do so in the hopes of moving on.

“I - I'm sorry. I... Maybe Kepler's right. Maybe I'm not in control of what I'm doing.”

Ultimately, Lovelace is forced to live her basic fear, again and again, to begin to overcome it. Her arc culminates in her worst possible scenario- Cutter, the manifestation of the insidious control she has been raging against throughout the series, gaining direct control of her by manipulating the psi-waves that affect her alien physiology;

“If you have enough psi-waves in the air … you can control all sorts of things. What do you think, Isabel? Pretty neat, isn't it?”

Lovelace can’t wrest herself from Cutter’s control entirely- she shoots Minkowski, and is unable to fire at Cutter. She is, however, able to distract him for long enough for Minkowski to kill him. Not only is this a direct confrontation of Lovelace’s basic fear, with her being forced to accept that sometimes the situation is out of her control, this scene forces her to eschew her basic desire, and instead, rely on someone else to protect her; as an Eight, this is the logical conclusion to her arc.

Basic Desire: To protect themselves (to be in control of their own life

and destiny)

“There’s something I needed to remind myself of. That you're not just what you were made. That you can grow. At least... when you assholes don't interfere.”

Repeatedly, Lovelace cannot stand seeing others allowing their destiny to be decided for them- even when she particularly dislikes the person in question. When Eris announces her intention to self destruct on behalf of Goddard, she is furious;

“You can't just let these people delete you! You should fight this! ...Just because someone made you something doesn't mean that's all you're going to be. You can be more.”

She reacts similarly, if far more explosively when Hilbert is unfazed upon discovering that Goddard were planning on betraying him;

“What... the hell... is wrong with you? (BEAT) I will never understand you. How are you not angry? How are you not revoltingly angry? They were going to leave you up here. To rot … Listen to me, you despicable waste of a soul: that's not how you react to this. Humanity 101: when someone lies to you, when someone betrays you, when they leave you to die, alone, in the cold, you DO NOT FIND IT PERFECTLY EQUITABLE! You get angry, and you do whatever you have to in order to show them they have made the worst mistake of their lives. It doesn't matter what you have to give up, who you have to hurt, how far you have to go -”

Indeed, Lovelace goes to every length to be the one in control of her own destiny and to protect herself and those that she cares about. Aside from her dead man’s switch, there’s her response to Kepler’s game of “eeny-meeny,” when he is deciding who to shoot in Desperate Measures- she interrupts him with a “fuck you,” and then proceeds to insult him and spit at him. What could be mistaken, though, for an outburst of pure aggression and resentment is clearly shown to be an attempt to deliberately provoke him and thus control the situation in the only way she can, and an attempt to protect Eiffel; 

EIFFEL: “Captain... why did you - you didn't have to - 

LOVELACE: “Yes, I did. I did. It's fine.”

She smiles at him. Sadly. 

Inaction- and particularly, feeling helpless- drives Lovelace to distraction. She’s desperate to try to take control of the situation in Pan-Pan, repeatedly dismissing Minkowski’s plan to make a distress call, “The only way we're going to get off this station is if we do it ourselves.” On the other side of things, Lovelace’s mini episode, Greensboro, is markedly different from those for each other character. Critically, she doesn’t interact with Cutter, who has a pattern of exploiting the cast’s basic fears, and in reflection of this, it’s her basic desires that Rachel, who is interviewing her, praises and tempts her with;

“You. Deep space. Mission command. You've got … Glowing recommendations from practically everyone you've given an order to. And when you're multiple light years away from your superiors? It's probably good to have someone who can think for themselves.”

It’s easy to understand why Goddard took this unique approach with Lovelace specifically; threatening to control her would result in automatic pushback and rebellion from her, whereas promising her a degree of the control that she so craves was the perfect way to ensure that she agreed to work with them. 

Disintegration to Five:

“I invented being paranoid on this station.”

Enneagram Institute describes deeply disintegrated Eights’ actions as “vengeful, barbaric, murderous.” This is particularly true of Lovelace- the first time she flees the Hephaestus, she leaves behind a message promising to exact revenge against Goddard:

“So if you're listening to this: Run. And. Hide. Because by the time that I'm done you will feel more helpless and more alone than all the innocent people you've ever hurt. See you soon.”

Like an unhealthy Five, she is secretive and fearful, leaving her paranoid. She initially admits to turning on Hilbert without proper cause;  “I was so paranoid by that point, I think I would have turned on anyone who was with me.” This indiscriminate destructiveness is a hallmark of a disintegrated Eight, and when Minkowski confirms, “You attacked him?” Lovelace simply answers, “Best defence.” She goes on;

“I figured it was just a matter of time before he tried to kill me. So I incapacitated him and I ran. I got on the ship we'd constructed and left him behind. (beat) Not my proudest moment.”

Her violence continues when she returns to the Hephaestus- pouncing on Hilbert on sight, choking him and bashing his head against a wall. Like an unhealthy Five, she is suspicious and information obsessed- planting a gun with a hidden listening device so that she can eavesdrop on Minkowski and Eiffel. 

In addition, Enneagram Institute says of disintegrated Eights, “If they get in danger, they may brutally destroy everything that has not conformed to their will rather than surrender to anyone else.” This repeatedly holds true of Lovelace;

““I hope you don't think we'd go down without a fight.”

Indeed, she threatens to invoke the “Taking You With Me,” trope on multiple occasions, to the point that it becomes something of a running joke for her; 

“Believe me, kids, right now I'm up for killing everything and everyone on this boat.” 

Perhaps the most serious example, though, is the explosive she wires to activate should her heart stop or increase too much which she reveals in the episode aptly named Mutually Assured Destruction, a failsafe she describes, unfeelingly, as “insurance.” When Minkowski doubts her, “You’d be killing yourself. I don’t buy it,” Lovelace simply answers; “Then you’ve never been as scared as I have.” This neatly demonstrates Lovelace’s complete unwillingness to surrender or be subjugated, willing to completely self destruct in order to avert this outcome. Additionally, she uses this threat as a means of seizing control of the station, becoming the ruthless, dictatorial disintegrated Eight;

“There's a new sheriff in town, and I am not taking suggestions, complaints, or objections. Here’s what’s going to happen… Whatever game Command is playing with this station is over. Welcome to my Cold War, kids. Fasten your seat belts, stay out of the way, and don’t try me. Any questions?” 

Integration to Two:

“I realized something. The whole epic rampage of revenge thing? Isabel Lovelace wouldn't do that. The terrible wretch that you people made Isabel Lovelace into? Oh, she'd do that. But... I'm not going to be that person anymore. (BEAT) I'm going to be Isabel Lovelace again. Even if I never have before.” 

When integrated, Lovelace’s has the sincere care for those around her of a healthy Two, using her own strength of character to support them. A good example of this is when she quite generously agrees to take over for Minkowski when she feels unable to command the station. It’s significant that Minkowski convinces her by appealing to her own respect and need for control;

“ I... I did what I did because I lost control. And until I get it back, I don't think my hands are the best ones for this crew to be in.”

Also notably, Lovelace is demonstrably reluctant to take control, establishing it only happens, “on the very clear understanding that this is a temporary situation, and that [she is] going to sort [her]self out and kick [her] out of [her] chair ASAP.” This Lovelace, genuinely looking forward to ceding control to a person she respects and trusts, is a far cry from the control obsessed woman she is introduced as. Additionally, she uses her strong authority with the goal of actually meeting the needs of her entire crew- for instance, in Theta Scenario;

LOVELACE: “I'm not making that call for everyone. We're voting, and we're not doing anything until we have a unanimous decision.”

EIFFEL: “Fine, lets v-”

LOVELACE: “No. We're not gonna make an informed decision until we know as much as we can about what the hell has been going on here.”

EIFFEL: “Why?”

LOVELACE: “Because I'm the Captain, that's why. That call I will make.”

As aforementioned, Lovelace is also able to depend on Minkowski during her most dire moments during the finale. Early in the series, Lovelace clearly felt that it was her destiny to personally take revenge on Cutter on behalf of her crew, with her promising that outcome to him as an inevitability;

“I'm going to really mess you up someday. You know that, right?”

Allowing Minkowski to be the one to take him down instead is a subtle but incredibly important demonstration of her growth- she thoughtlessly sacrifices an opportunity she would have been unlikely to have given up on without a fight earlier in the series. This courage and self-sacrifice is far more along the lines of what one would expect from an integrated Eight. 

w7:

“Let's just say that I am very eager to be a private citizen again.”

Maintaining her own freedom and happiness is a big priority for Lovelace, which is indicative of her Seven wing. She dislikes ruminating on painful subjects, and while she generally copes by being action-oriented; her refusal to confront her grief is explored in Variations On a Theme, where she has no tolerance for herself slipping into present tense when speaking about her past group;

“No. Focus. Work. Be here. Be now. Don't stop to remember. Don't stop to think. Stay away from the ghosts.”

And, in Need To Know it’s revealed she was deliberately getting high on painkillers after the disastrous events of Who’s There?;

“I got a broken an arm trying to save one of my crew members. It was a very difficult time.”

Turning to addiction as a form of escapism is not uncommon for a Seven in disintegration.

Additionally, despite her extreme fury towards Goddard, Lovelace is also driven for much of the series by an extreme desire to return home; 

“I want to go back to earth.”

It’s only in her internal monologue- presented as fragmented and scattered, as many disintegrated Sevens can feel and behave- that she acknowledges the painful truth that returning to earth won’t truly fulfill her desires- earth is longer home, and home is gone;

LOVELACE: “I will do this. I'll do it faster. Better. Deal with crazier. Won't die harder. Fix this goddamn engine. Get them out. Go home.”

SECOND LOVELACE: “You can never go home. You were home.”

THIRD LOVELACE: “And now you're back. And you can never go back.”

LOVELACE: “I know. I know.”

In fact, Lovelace’s powerful desire to get off the station is more reminiscent of the blind claustrophobia of a disintegrated Seven- the desire to escape a painful atmosphere- than a draw towards a compelling, satisfying one. Towards the very end of the series, this changes. Significantly, she mentions earth not just in the context of revenging on Goddard or escaping the Hephaestus, but as presenting the opportunity for revitalizing, healing experiences, with something close to the optimism of a healthy Seven;

“Oh, there are so many choices. Look up some old friends, take apart Goddard Futuristics brick by brick... maybe go to Disneyland? But first, I'm going to take a long vacation, somewhere warm and quiet, where nobody has any idea who I am.”

Ultimately, though, her wing isn’t very developed- she’s more than willing to stay on the station late in the series to try and learn more about the aliens and their wants (and by association, about their control over her), and doesn’t try to flee the situation in the same way that Eiffel wants to at that point. Similarly, she’s willing to die to protect him in Desperate Measures- her core desires and fears as an Eight will always overpower the aversion to pain associated with her wing whenever both come into play. 

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VERONICA SAWYER

6w7

“I wish you'd come with me-“

In response to a question asked over on r/enneafiction.

Veronica’s Six core is exploited at every turn throughout Heathers, the Musical and the clashing of her loyalty to her ideals with the desire to feel safe and secure ultimately results in an abrupt and extreme disintegration over the course of the show. 

Basic Fear:  Of being without support and guidance / Basic Desire: To have security and support

“I wanted someone strong who could protect me…”

Veronica wants, more than anything else, for someone to have her back in a world she perceives as dangerous and frightening. This is made abundantly clear in Fight For Me, the song where she falls in love with JD after seeing him defend himself. The repeated lyric; “I would fight for you // If you would fight for me,” is the most obvious example- the world itself might remain unsafe, but the potential security to be found in another person is a huge draw for her (“Could you carry me through no man's land?”).

This isn’t the first instance of Veronica’s safety seeking behaviour, however- it’s present as early as Beautiful, when she asks the Heathers; “Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone…” Veronica isn’t interested in spending time with the Heathers for the sake of popularity or self-affirmation- it’s as a shield. Beautiful also sees her scrambling out of the way of anyone who might pose a threat (“Oh, sorry!” // “Aah, nothing!”), except, notably, when Martha is the one being threatened, where the first glimpse of a counterphobic Veronica emerges; “Pick that up right now … I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend.” Sixes are loyal to their friends, but also to their beliefs- Veronica has a strong sense of justice and a conviction that things can become better again;

“But I know, I know...

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before;

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful..,”

Ultimately, it’s her loyalty to this ideal, and her ability to function counterphobically to defend and preserve it, that saves her and the school as a whole, allowing her to confront JD with the conviction that “his solution is a lie,” despite his repeated attempts to exploit her loyalty; “Please don’t leave me alone, // You were all I could trust.”

Everything comes to a head at the end of Act One. After the events of Blue leave Veronica feeling particularly defenseless, she does what a disintegrated Six is wont to, and latches onto her only source of security; JD. “You’re not alone,” he tells her, an offer of the security she is seeking, but can’t seem to find anywhere else. Veronica finds herself drawing strength from the relationship; “We’re what killed the dinosaurs, // We’re the asteroid that’s overdue,” and ultimately venerates it to religious significance, following JD’s lead; “Our love is God.” But the fantascism of these statements, and the undercurrent of violence present from the beginning of the song, betray her disintegration, and the brutality that is about to ensue. Veronica reacts with horror when she discovers that JD has in fact, murdered Kurt and Ram instead of just knocking them out as he promised, (“What the fuck have you done?”) but he remains her only source of safety, even in a world that he has just made a lot more dangerous- he is still completely loyal to her; “...I worship you // I'd trade my life for yours.” Veronica finds herself, more afraid than ever, but with no other source of potential safety, she continues to answer JD, “Our love is God,” despite the fear plain on her face, and doesn’t try to leave his embrace- letting go would mean facing her basic fear, and being without support and guidance.

Seventeen is her attempt to make their relationship into a true source of sanctuary for the pair of them, appealing to JD’s own strength of loyalty (“Can’t we be seventeen? // That’s all I want to do.”). As a Six, she is unable to make a convincing statement without acknowledging all their past pain; “Fine we’re damaged,” and the truth of more in their future, “People hurt us … And you’re right, that really blows.” The song exemplifies her Seven wing- she suggests shallow distractions from the pain, chilli fries, prom night, shopping for summer clothes- but ultimately what she is offering JD is her presence by his side; “Don’t stop looking in my eyes.” The song is filled with offers and promises of and appeals to both their senses of loyalty; “I wanna be with you,” “Your love’s too good to lose,” “Hold me tighter,” etc. Ultimately, the conclusion; “I’ll stay if I’m what you choose // If I am what you choose // ‘Cause you’re the one I choose.” sums up Veronica’s tendency towards loyalty, but also need for it, perfectly.

Disintegration to 3:

“Dreams are coming true // When people laugh but not at you!”

What drives many Sixes to disintegrate is a belief that they are not equipped to protect themselves. Veronica’s initial disintegration occurs when she joins the Heathers as a direct result of this belief- by Candy Store, she has become image-conscious enough to sabotage Martha’s popularity in order to maintain her own (and thus her own safety.) Big Fun makes it clear that this strategy, though unhealthy, is working for her, (“I'm not alone! I'm not afraid!”) and she spirals further into it.

When disintegrated, Sixes lash out- they divide the world into “them and us,” and can be driven to sabotage the “them,” in order to protect themselves. As she disintegrates further, Veronica briefly embodies an unhealthy Three’s arrogance- taken in by JD’s sweeping promises in Our Love is God- “We can start and finish wars…” and enthusiastic to play judge and jury to Kurt and Ram- but critically, not executioner. The murder is a shock to her system, and ironically, allows her to see the flaws in their previous arrogance; “We’re not “special”, we’re not “different” // We don’t choose who lives or dies.”

Integration to 9:

“Listen up folks, // War is over.”

There isn’t much opportunity for Veronica to integrate, but Seventeen (Reprise) offers us a glimpse- while as a Six, Veronica can’t put her fears aside completely; “We're all damaged, we're all frightened // We're all freaks but that's alright,” this song has a far more optimistic tone from Veronica than anything else in the whole show; “We’ll endure it, we’ll survive it.” Like a healthy Nine, she shows a willingness to let go of unproductive conflicts (“We are done with acting evil // We will lay our weapons down”,) and relationships alike,  (“If no one loves me now // Someday somebody will.”) Enneagram institute describes Nines at their best as; “indomitable and all-embracing, they are able to bring people together and heal conflicts,” and that’s a perfect description of what this song is all about; “Brand new sheriff’s come to town.”

Childhood Wound: They lost faith they would be protected.

““But the sky's gonna hurt when it falls, // So you better start building some walls…”

There’s an underlying pattern in Heathers, like in many teen dramas, of adults who are essentially untrustworthy- either helpless or unwilling to lend a hand to the kids they should be responsible for. This is arguably such a pervasive theme because it lends the teenagers more agency in the plot and gives their struggles more credibility, but in Heathers, this trope is in fact a depiction of a lack of empathy from adults who truly don’t take teenagers seriously, or are in fact outright abusive or neglectful.

In Beautiful, teachers objectify Veronica, or only recognise her once she is important enough to be seen with the Heathers. Outside of her, Kurt and Ram’s fathers’ are demonstrably abusive, and their sons perpetuate that cycle of abuse by taking it out on their schoolmates. They only repent only in My Dead Gay Son- too late. Ms Fleming is apathetic towards the students whose mental health she is supposed to prioritise from her first appearance- trying to impose a detention on Heather Duke even as she vomits from her eating disorder right in front of her. In Shine A Light, her advice to the students is facile, and her motivation is more about performing for the cameras than actually making a positive impact. Altogether, Veronica lives in a world where adults simply can’t be depended upon for help or sanctuary. Her verse in Dead Girl Walking (Reprise), directed at JD, encompasses all this;

“I wish your mom had been a little stronger

I wish she stayed around a little longer

I wish your dad were good!

I wish grown-ups understood!

I wish we’d met before

They convinced you life is war!”

From Yo Girl, we know the situation applies not just to Veronica’s schoolmates, but her, too. The intertwining of her parent’s empty reassurances; “Your problems seem like life and death! // I promise, they’re not!” with the chorus’ building, ominous reminder of the very real threat of JD drawing closer and closer, “Guess who’s climbing the stairs? // Guess who’s picking the lock?” shows that her parents aren’t equipped to protect her. Childhood wounds only have to be felt- a Six can perceive themselves as vulnerable when this isn’t the truth of the situation. It’s notable that despite the present danger, she simply answers, “You wouldn’t understand,” and works to protect herself (“Veronica’s trying to keep him out, now,”) and again, doesn’t ask anyone for help during Dead Girl Walking (Reprise). All of Veronica’s experiences have clearly built her into a Six who feels she has no-one left to trust.

w7:

“Let's be normal, see bad movies // Sneak a beer and watch tv,”

Veronica often deals with her issues by retreating, shutting her eyes to the unpleasant realities of what’s going on around her, with varying success; “Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés // Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!” Her conflation of her own ideals of kindness and inner beauty with the physical beauty she achieves as a result of the Heathers’ makeover is arguably made easier by her Seven wing- “When you’re beautiful // It’s a beautiful frickin’ day!”- when she fakes Heather Chandler’s suicide note, she as much confesses this; “Believe it or not, I knew about fear ... I hid behind smiles and crazy hot clothes,” although she doesn’t admit this is partly confessional. This isn’t the only instance of Veronica’s unwillingness to confront unpleasant truths in favour of happier distractions- trying to undo what’s happened with JD with chilli fries and dancing seems another example, as does her behaviour in Dead Girl Walking, wherein she opts to distract herself from her anxieties not just by returning to her source of security, (“In here it’s beautiful,”) but with seeking baser pleasure to drown out any pain; “Make this whole town disappear!”

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ALEXANDER HILBERT 1w2 “I did what I had to do.”

Given the amount of harm Hilbert causes to fan favourite characters throughout Wolf 359, he might initially come across as the polar opposite of a One. Once it becomes clear, however, that he is in fact acting in accordance with a very strict personal moral code- one of utilitarianism taken to an uncommon extreme- it becomes clear that he is a perfect example of a One- controlled, perfectionist, and advocating change in hopes of making the world a better place overall.

Basic Desire: To be good, to have integrity, to be balanced “Satisfied? You think I care about pride? Humiliation? I will do whatever it takes. It doesn't matter what you have to give up. Who you have to hurt. How far you have to go.”

When Cutter first approaches Hilbert to work for Goddard, Hilbert scoffs at the idea of “defecting” from the Soviet Union. Cutter correctly observes that Hilbert has no love for his country, and is quick to assuage his fears.

“Your only real allegiance is to your work… and that would come with you.”

Hilbert’s moral code is based on a kind of extreme utilitarianism- the suffering of the few who are unfortunate enough to be subjected to his experiments will be outweighed by good successful results will bring. Looking at what does not provoke anger from Hilbert, is, in fact, very telling of the strength of this desire. Unlike an Eight, who would resent being controlled, or a Three, who would rail against criticism, Hilbert has no problems with being poorly treated, so long as he is able to work. He almost never responds to Lovelace’s taunts, nor try to save face in response to Kepler’s deliberately provocative criticism;

“I... Yes, Colonel. Thank you. (beat) Very good.”

Similarly, when he realises that Goddard intended to leave him to die on the Hephaestus Station- after downloading a neurological map that would allow them to continue his work, his reaction is as follows;

“...my work would have made it back to Earth. Everything I've done would... (beat) It would have made a difference. I find it to be perfectly equitable.”

This is where the extremity of Hilbert’s code of utilitarianism becomes apparent. The harm Hilbert causes in order to pursue a cure leads him to suffer as well;

“Do not mistake determination for enthusiasm, Captain. None of it was nice. None of it was easy.”

But ultimately, his own feelings on the matter, just like his dignity, matter not at all. He holds himself to a standard of complete selflessness;

“I told you. My work will save countless lives. No one gets to discount that. Not even me.”

In Hilbert’s eyes, repression of the guilt he feels and continuation in his work is the only moral path to take- especially in light of his one-hundred percent conviction that he can succeed. And so, he persists.

Basic Fear: Of being corrupt, evil, defective “All I'm saying is there is no room for affection in science. There shouldn't be!”

It is only when Kepler orders him to abandon his work- in which case, the suffering he caused will have been for nothing, that we see him, usually so self-controlled, “snap”;

“What?! No! This - This is progress! This is results! This is what I have spent decades trying to accomplish! My work!”

When he calms down- repressing his outburst in a way that is typical for the One, and clearly common practice for him- the following takes place in a conversation with Eiffel;

Hilbert takes a DEEP BREATH. He's never sounded more tired. “I am taking this the way I need to in order to survive.”

As morality is a difficult goal to actualise, Ones often take on “a calling,” as a mechanism by which to enact positive change. Hilbert’s work is a concrete reflection of his moral code, and so taking away his work is, in effect, a manifestation of his basic fear- to the extent that he has to emotionally shut down to “survive,” it.

Disintegration to Four: “Just pat little rabbits on the head and never think about death! It works so well! Everyone does just fine!”

Ones repress their anger, and are often seen by those around them as controlled and unyielding, while perceiving their own interior life as intense and passionate. It’s unfortunate, then, that they disintegrate to Fours, who struggle with feeling that their identity is being misinterpreted by outside sources. Hilbert becomes truly angry rarely- one example is in Lame-O Superhero Origin Story, when Eiffel is interrogating Hilbert about his motivations, but seems simultaneously unwilling to listen to his perspective, we get another of his “snaps”;

“Oh, sure! Sure! Big mean scientist should never do anything with risk! Even if could reap vast benefits and end large amount of suffering! Should not find way to understand cell development and degradation! Much too scary!”

Additionally, Fours have issues with morbidity and self-absorption. While Hilbert’s motivations arguably come from a place of altruism, they are also undeniably personal, as he reveals in the same rant;

“Just keep delaying anti-radiation medication, put the funding somewhere else! Who needs it?! Just have pets and American television! That made real difference for sister, can make up for everything!”

A legitimately well-intentioned desire to prevent others from going through what he suffered, intertwines with a deeply personal motivation, and culminates in the manifestation of unhealthy Four traits- Hilbert’s vulnerability in his situation forces himself to maintain distance from those around him, which turns to disdain and enables him to act as if exempt from the normal rules of society.

w2: “Tell that to the fingernails you are not supposed to have.”

Hilbert doesn’t seem to display any traits that would betray a Nine wing- Cutter, whose observations about the cast are generally achingly accurate, calls them both “in the business of changing the world,”- this does not describe a man who has chosen a path free of conflict and upheval. He does, however, display a lot of the problematic behaviours Twos can fall into- he is out of touch with his own needs and often manipulative and controlling. Despite the harmful nature of his work, Hilbert also seems to occasionally betray a caring side- for instance, he stays by Hui’s side as he passes away, and despite Eiffel’s suspicions, he does ultimate cure him in Cigarette Candy. Of course, it could be that Hilbert only does these things to protect his own research, but along that vein, it could be argued that sacrificing everything, even his own soul, for his research, is a truly altruistic act. Hilbert’s willingness to sacrifice in the relentless pursuit of the healing properties of the Decima could certainly be interpreted as an act of love for his family, or for humanity in general- his ultimate goal is to heal, not to harm.

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DANIEL JACOBI

6w5

“Dost thou know me, fellow? No, sir, but you have that in your countenance which I would fein call master…”

Jacobi might seem contradictory to the typical caricature of the skittish Six. But it’s been said that “Sixes are either at your feet or at your throat.” Upon meeting him, Kepler quotes Shakespeare’s King Lear, likening Jacobi to Kent, a figure who demonstrates unwavering Six loyalty despite betrayal and maltreatment throughout the play. While ultimately this isn’t an accurate prediction of Jacobi’s arc, loyalty is integral to his personality,  and he often acts motivated by fear.

Basic Fear: Of being without support and guidance

“Oh, I was scared. I hadn't even realized how scared I was. Every single second since it happened. Huh.”

While Kepler’s assessment of Jacobi’s loyalty as limitless is incorrect, like many Sixes he can feel directionless without something to stand for. During Things That Break Other Things, we are introduced to a Jacobi living his basic fear. Since being fired, with no outlet to invest his energy and nothing to dedicate himself to, he’s disintegrated significantly- becoming a self-destructive alcoholic with a tendency to lash out- not atypical for a deeply disintegrated Six.

Much later, Jacobi is driven to an extreme state of anxiety when he encounters his own doppelganger- the scenario undermines a security he took completely for granted, and Kepler exaggerates this effect by withholding information from Jacobi. Discovering this, Jacobi feels deeply betrayed-

“I feel … experimented on.”  

And while he had become obsessively occupied with the incident, questioning himself constantly, discovering that he can finally put that particular worry down relieves him so much that it completely overrides all other feelings in the moment;

“And the only thing I feel right now? Relief. Yeah. Pretty screwed up, huh? You weren't there. You didn't hear him. Outside. Begging. So sure that... And ever since then there's just been this voice in my head whispering, "How can you be sure? Maybe you're just a really good clone that thinks it's Daniel Jacobi.”

His focus on the “relief” speaks to his talent to detach himself from his emotions as a Five wing, and also of his legitimate want to feel secure- to the point that ignoring all the seismic upheavals of the past twenty-four hours (Maxwell’s death, Kepler’s betrayal) is preferable to confronting them head-on.

Even Jacobi’s “near-pathological fear of ducks,”- albeit, played for laughs- suggests an inherently fearful outlook on the world he invests energy into covering up. Similarly, his outraged reaction to Maxwell’s reluctant confession, (“You said you didn't mind the cheeses!”) and his inability to take either legitimate criticism (as in the scenario with the space probe,) or sometimes, friendly ribbing (as when his phobia of ducks is revealed,) demonstrates a poorly hidden insecure nature.

In Jacobi’s eyes, Maxwell’s death is Kepler’s fault- this culminates in a catastrophic loss of support on two fronts. Sixes out of touch with their own guidance “are like a ping-pong ball that is constantly shuttling back and forth between whatever influence is hitting the hardest in any given moment.” Living out his basic fear for the second time, stranded on a space station with nothing to find security in, triggers disintegration for Jacobi that culminates in his breakdown in Dirty Work.

Basic Desire: To have security and support

“But if you need anything, I got your back. … No matter what happens, I've got your back.”

Jacobi embodies an apparent contradiction common to many Sixes- alternatingly suspicious and trusting. This dichotomy emerges from Sixes’ fearful tendencies and simultaneous desire for a trustworthy inner circle. When Jacobi meets Maxwell, he offers her unconditional loyalty- on the basis that she’s been selected by Goddard-

“You’re here. That means you’re going to do great things.”

His loyalty to Goddard has been earned, or at least he believes it has been- he’s well aware of the company’s accomplishments and can recount them to the Hephaestus crew when prompted. He calls Kepler “Sir,” more consistently than anyone else, even doing so before he’s under his command the first time they meet. All this is motivated by an inherent desire to trust- and he trusts his fellow SI-5 members deeply, at least at the beginning of his arc. This is perhaps best demonstrated in Fire and Brimstone- when Kepler issues him an order that will kill the whole crew unless aborted, the action is “Done,” without any argument. The fact is, occupying a constant state of distrust as a security-oriented Six is exhausting- but despite his obedience, Jacobi just can’t help himself from doubting; 

“I know [Kepler.] (catches himself) Well, I know him better than you do.” 

And though he rarely drops the formal “Sir,” address, he questions Kepler loudly and often, when the situation is less drastic. His trust, despite how badly he wants to give it, is incomplete from the start- his instinct to protect himself conflicts with his ability to offer unconditional loyalty and thus to receive it.

Even at his most desperate, Jacobi tends to look for guidance outside of himself. In Dirty Work, he hears Maxwell’s voice reminding him, “you can do this,” as opposed to offering affirmations to himself. Further, it is not because he is told that things will get better- but that he doesn’t have to continue through his grief and guilt alone, that he escapes a downward spiral of aggression and violence.

“Between the two of us? There's gotta be at least a small chance we figure it out, right?”

(Notably, it’s Minkowski who integrates to a Six, who makes this offer.) His response betrays his disintegration- he leans into his competitiveness as a defence mechanism, but an offer of support is, in fact, all that’s needed to prevent his downfall;

“(quiet, voice shaking a little) Twenty bucks says I figure it out first,”

And just like that, his loyalty becomes the vehicle of his redemption- the override code that finally puts an end to the situation is “alpha lima alpha november alpha,”- spelling out “Alana,” Maxwell’s first name.

Disintegration to 3:

“I need you to take your pride out of the equation and use your head.”

Like an unhealthy Three, Jacobi is often attention and affirmation-seeking. But as a Six, only the opinions of those in his inner circle matter to him. In All Things Considered, Jacobi’s account of the explosion is tailored to impress Kepler, repeatedly emphasising himself as responsible and reasonable- (compare with Minkowski’s fantasy where she demonstrates herself as capable, and to Eiffel’s where he gets carried away with the storytelling itself). His affirmation-seeking bleeds through, too, with his fictionalised shipmates complimenting him relentlessly;

“ It was silly of us to presume that we knew something about the incredibly complicated area of expertise to which you've devoted your life.”

He ends the story, however, seeking the praise that really matters- Kepler’s;

“... despite my best efforts ... I am so, so sorry that it ended up being your quarters, sir. “

This whole scenario also iterates Jacobi’s tendency to shift the blame onto others- not out of malice, but to preserve his own image when it comes to those whose opinions he cares about.

Integration to 9:

“You can’t save everyone, I suppose. It’s alright.”

Arguably, at no point in the series is Jacobi securely integrated; but his potential to become such is demonstrated at the end of Brave New World. His final line, in reference to Kepler, demonstrates a new ability to put down the feeling of betrayal, and take an attitude more in line with a healthy Nine’s- accepting, and maintaining his own stability despite outside influences; letting go of an unproductive conflict- or at least attempting to begin to do so.

w5:

“All right, I'm... I'm fine. Fine.”

Jacobi’s Five wing manifests in his cynicism and intensity. His ability to compartmentalise his emotions and think logically, as when he notices that the psi waves prove he’s not a doppelganger despite the major upheaval he’s just been through, is also typical to Fives. He dislikes having his capability undermined, becoming indignant and defensive at the start of Overture, and part of his path to earning loyalty encompasses demonstrating himself as such;

“I can get it right.”

Like many Sixes with a Five wing he also possesses an area of expertise that he’s fiercely devoted to- to the extent that he grieves his ability to contribute as he did for two years before being hired by Goddard.

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HERA

5w4

“So then you agree with her that I’m incompetent, is that it?”

Despite being an AI, Hera’s early life instilled her with experiences that contributed directly to her basic fears and desires. She spends much of the series motivated by her need, as a Five, to prove herself to be equipped to fulfill her role as the station’s AI- the fear that she is not exaggerated by the damage she suffers at Hilbert’s hands. It is only when she begins to believe that she is capable, and let go of her fear of not demonstrating herself as such, that she becomes truly integrated.

Basic Fear: Being useless, helpless, or incapable

“I can’t do this. I’m not good enough.”

Like many Fives, Hera equates her sense of self worth to her capability. Unlike many Fives, as an AI, she has had this idea repeatedly reinforced to her throughout her existence. In Limbo, we see her struggling to fulfill her role when she receives too many commands at once;

Hera: “Please just - stop - run - stop - run - stop…”

SFX: “BZZZZSST! There's a HUGE ELECTRICAL SPARK, and then the sound of a computer - more specifically, an AI autopilot - POWERING DOWN.”

Leading to a system crash that Maxwell describes as akin to “a panic attack.” The depth of Hera’s distress in this situation speaks volumes about how essential it is for her to be a useful and capable AI. Further, as a result of this crash, it is revealed that she has been given a line of code that repeats like a mantra subconsciously every time she tries to carry out an action- “I can’t do this. I’m not good enough.” This echolalia is designed to play to Hera’s basic fear, and as such affects her deeply- it is at the root of her inability to keep the station functioning normally and even to speak without a glitch akin to a speech disorder.

Basic Desire: To be capable and competent

“I've worked with plenty of A.I. units, but Hera was in a class of her own.”

When Hera does overcome her panic attack and reboot, it is unsurprisingly a result of her convincing herself that she is, in fact, capable of doing so. The voices she hears, ensuring her that she is able, are those of her friends;

Maxwell: “You can do this…”

Minkowski: “You are the smartest person I know, Hera. Focus…

Eiffel: “Use the Force, Luke.”

But that these affirmations come from her own “memory,”- rather than having been invented by Maxwell that delivered empty compliments before- prove that true capability is what matters to Hera, rather than just words of encouragement. It is only when she is able to recall her past successes that she is able to rise above her basic fear. As the series draws on, she becomes ensured of her own capability, and grows as a result of no longer being so focused on constantly struggling to prove it. In her fight against Pryce, she begins repeatedly telling herself; “I can do this. I can win this.” With Eiffel’s encouragement (“I know you can. You can do anything.”) she is able to put aside her need to prove her capability, and trust in it as an implicit truth.

“We’re not going to beat you. But I realized something. I don’t need to beat you. No matter how much I want to, no matter how much you deserve it, it wouldn’t change anything. What I need is to make sure that you’re not going to hurt anyone else again. Ever.”

For Hera, this epiphany underpins a moment of near perfect integration, and demonstrates how far she has come since the beginning of the series.

Disintegration to 7:

“...you don’t mind if I talk at you, do you Doug? It really helps to organize my thoughts, and I have a lot of thoughts.”

When stressed, Fives tend to become scattered- this becomes apparent when Hera struggles to juggle multiple tasks for the crew, as at the start of Limbo, where different requests being delivered to her from every direction at once causes her to crash when she fails to perform them all at once. As an AI, a state of constantly split attention is natural for Hera, but it does seem to be associated with a degree of frustration- the constant struggle to keep up with it all is inextricably linked with the constant struggle to prove her capability, and it appears to be an overwhelming state of existence, causing her to becomes almost dissociative at times, and impacting her ability to feel closeness with her crew;

“Yes, I can hear you. Yes, I’m there. I’m always there. I’m there right now, having a conversation with you about the alcoholic potentials of antifreeze. Twentysix meters below you I’m in the cargo bay, giving a navigation report to Commander Minkowski. My mind is in both of those places. It’s racing to keep up with 100 volts of current as it flies from generator B to the lamp Doctor Hilbert just turned on. I see it depart from the origin point, and a fraction of a second later I see it arrive at its destination. It’s here having this conversation at you. It’s outside the station, noticing a small flicker in my periphery. Somewhere, 13.7 light years to the left, the final gasping breath of a star reached us, then went away forever.”

Her idealisation of a less disorganised environment speaks to the fact that this truly is a state of disintegration for her;

“Maybe one day, when I have less to do, less conversations to keep track of, less people to take care of, less loopholes to find, less rules to break, once the game’s over... I’ll come up with some names for these colors. Yes, I like that idea. I think I’ll do that. Someday.”

Retreating into distraction like this is a manifestation of Seven avoidance tactics that we see from her throughout the series whenever she feels incapable- as when she breaks down in Bolero, completely unable to fall back on avoidance in the face of the grief and anger she’s suffering, and, as a Five, feeling complete uselessness in this particular situation;

“Just tell me: how do I stop thinking about this? Because right now I can't think of anything other than the fact that they're broken and I can't fix them.”

Integration to 8:

“ What makes you think what I just said was open to discussion?”

Hera’s self-confidence grows massively throughout the series, and as she develops she gains the ability to be decisive and authoritative when it counts. The independent streak that’s been evident in her since her escape attempt, pre-series, becomes one of her most valuable assets. She survives completely alone for weeks when the rest of the crew are compelled to obedience in the show’s final act. In Brave New World - she is willing to trade an inevitable crash for a few hours of complete autonomous control. This episode handily highlights her integration- in the flashback wherein she meets Minkowski, even her speech patterns are markedly different- full of “if that’s alright[s]”, formal titles, apologies, and also more glitches compared to Brave New World, by which time her attitude has changed completely- like most Eights, she doesn’t feel the need to seek permission.

Hera: “Me and Eiffel will join you if we can, but if we lose that ship we're done.”

Minkowski: “But-”

Hera: “No, Commander.”

This episode also allows her to step up as a leader, forcing herself to be self-assured when panic and hesitation would have doomed the whole group;

“There is something we could try. But... I don't think I have the time to explain. You're... you're going to have to trust me.”

When acting as a protector, she even displays the Eight capability for ruthlessness- when she repeats Pryce’s earlier threat, turning it back on her, she is demonstrably truly formidable. 

Childhood Wound: Unable to escape an intrusive caretaker

“I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to... mmm… clip your wings a little.”

Hera’s literal failed escape attempt from Goddard exemplifies the formative experiences that contributed to her core type. She didn’t choose to be an AI for Goddard, and yet she is literally imprisoned in this role- rejected and subsequently decommissioned, and then forced to participate in the Hephaestus mission. Dr. Pryce here fills the roles of the intrusive figure- she constantly imposes her will on Hera- in the form of the repeating line of code that enforces her feelings of inadequacy throughout the series, and by giving her her own voice. At all times, she holds the power to destroy Hera’s personality, making her the very definition of inescapable and intrusive. Her impact on Hera is clear in Decommissioned- just the threat of her interference is enough to motivate Hera to acquiesce to Mr Cutter’s requests, despite her initial reluctance.

w4:

“Just... pull out a memory over here, take out a personality parameter over there... nothing to it… but rest assured: sooner or later you'll accept the assignment. And you will be happy about it.”

Cutter exploits Hera’s Four wing to provoke her into accepting a position on the Hephaestus, threatening her very identity, reminding her that as an AI, her personality can be tweaked to suit Goddards’ needs- this idea clearly causes Hera a lot of stress, because despite her previous reluctance to join the mission, she now accepts immediately. It’s clear that this worry sticks with her- in Memoria, she’d rather be deleted than have her memories modified by Maxwell;

“Get out of my head!”

Additionally, Hera is repeatedly demonstrated to be trying to carve out an identity for herself separate from that assigned to her as a creation of Pryce- her self-declared name, Hera, is an important example of her attempt to distance herself from this role. When Pryce boards the Hephaestus during the final few episodes of the show, she makes sure that, under the influence of the obedience bolts, the rest of the crew address her as “Unit 214.” This very deliberate undermining of Hera’s identity is clearly intended as an attack on her, and relates to her tradition of giving her AIs her own voice, and addressing them with “it/it’s” pronouns.

For most of the show, however, Hera simply seeks to be understood in the same way as any Four. She expresses frustration at even Maxwell’s inability to empathise fully with her;

“Oh my God... you don't get it. You're so smart, but you just don't get it.”

But, as she points out in Am I Alone Now, this want is, in fact, by its own nature impossible. Her experiences are so far removed from those of her crew, explaining them is beyond her abilities.

“I’d describe it to you, if I could. But I can’t. I don’t have the words. You didn’t even give me the words. Your species never invented names for these colors, just because you couldn’t see them, couldn’t paint with them, couldn’t smear them all over your faces. Such a big, big universe, and you only ever gave yourself the tools to think about a tiny portion of it.”

As the series continues, however, Hera moves to metaphors, analogies, and quotes to try and communicate her experiences to the humans she’s surrounded by. She remains patient with their interests- listening to Minkowski talk about musicals, and Eiffel’s endless references, because she understands the need to feel heard. As a Five, she thinks deeply- but her Four wing causes her to feel frustrated about being misunderstood:

Hera: “You know, the difference between a thought, and a memory, and how you can have a memory of a thought, but not -”

Eiffel: “Hey, can we go back to the Gallium thingamabob?”

Ultimately, Hera’s journey to establishing a healthy relationship with her individuality is a large part of her narrative- and she can be said to manifest a strong Four wing.

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YUKI SOUMA

2w1

“Was I able to help, even just a little?  Was I? That makes me so happy.  I’m so, so happy! That’s right. I remember, there was a time, a moment, when someone else needed me. Even if no one else remembers. Even if you yourself forget. That moment still happened. I know it did.”

Yuki might not immediately come across as a Two- he is certainly not as matronly as the stereotype depicts, but close examination of his character makes it clear that, though it is disguised by his withdrawn and distant attitude, Yuki thrives when he is able to help those around him- so much so that the opportunity to perform even a small act of kindness saves him when he has lost the will to live completely. The memory of this act becomes something he leans on in times of difficulty, and ultimately has a lasting impact on his core personality.

Basic Fear: Of being unwanted, unworthy of being loved

Growing up alongside an unstable Akito, Yuki is repeatedly and plainly told that, being the rat, everybody hates him- from his fellow zodiac members to those unfamiliar with the curse.  This view is only reinforced by his complete isolation from anyone but Akito, and in particular, his disastrous first interactions with Kyo- who tells him that “everything is [his] fault” and “he [should] do [everyone] a favour and just disappear,” and Ayame, who ignores him completely when he goes to him for help. These experiences cultivate a deep seated belief in Yuki that he is in fact implicitly undeserving of help;

“I didn’t want them to look at me with eyes of indifference or eyes of hate.”

Ultimately, he begins the series believing that his basic fear is in fact a truth which he must come to terms with, and self-isolates out of a fear of rejection that would confirm this- struggling to be assertive and to get onto a first name basis with others, even Tohru, for much of the series.

Basic Desire: To feel loved

“There was something I wanted. Loving parents. A home that no one would ever want to leave. A happy home. A warm place, with everyone smiling at me. That was all I wanted. That, and nothing else.”

In Tohru, Yuki finds “unconditional love,”- a safe space in which he can let his guard down, and express himself without fear of judgement or reproach. This follows earlier, less integrated behaviours in the series- despite hating crossdressing, for example, Yuki repeatedly bends to the will of his schoolmates when they ask him to do it, unable to disappoint them- unlike a Three, the praise and attention he gets for doing so embarrasses him deeply, but due to his people-pleasing side as a Two, he is “unable to refuse them.” 

The need to feel truly loved is also undeniably extremely important to Yuki- while Ayame spends much of the series trying to reconnect with the brother he neglected in childhood, Yuki does not take his flamboyant and dramatic efforts seriously, and closes himself off- the betrayal of the earlier rejection, combined with Yuki’s assessment of Ayame as facetious further perpetuates his core type. Yuki admits himself that affection from others has a direct impact on his own feelings of self-worth and his ability to cope;

“...To "like yourself." What does that mean? Good things- how are you supposed to find them? I only know things that I hate about myself. Because that's all I know, I hate myself. But even if you force yourself to find good things, it feels so empty. It doesn't work that way. ... I think when you hear someone say they like you, for the first time, then you can begin to like yourself. I think when someone accepts you, for the first time, you feel like you can forgive yourself a little. You can begin to face your fears with courage.”

Disintegration to 8:

Early in the series, Yuki has the tendency to take out his aggression on Kyo (and occasionally Shigure)- as in the scenario where he floors Kyo so quickly and effectively at the start of chapter four, telling him he repulses him, that even Kyo wonders what has him in a bad mood. 

Yuki typically prefers to make sarcastic comments than raise his voice; meeting Kyo’s demands to take their fights outside with the dry observation that they already are outside, etc. but when he is on the defensive, he takes on the controlling, combative attitude of an Eight, in spite of his own lack of self-confidence (possibly influenced by Akito). Kyo and Yuki’s fight by the lake house- atypically, it’s Yuki who loses his temper here, and instead of calmly delivering a standard retort, he shoots up from where he has been sitting, shouting abruptly and loudly enough to startle Tohru;

“That’s none of your business! Don’t talk to me like you know everything!”

In Two fashion, this aggressive and sudden disintegration comes about because Kyo accused him of “relying on Shigure,”- as a fairly unhealthy Two who views himself as undeserving, Yuki hasn’t yet come to terms with the necessity to occasionally depend on others, and has extreme trouble expressing vulnerability in any shape or form. His response, too, is very on form for an Eight feeling threatened; he tries to exercise authority to control the situation, despite the fact that in this case, it’s not an authority he really has. 

An example with more levity is that where he threatens never to speak to Kakeru again if he hurts Tohru- this very Eight threat immediately seems completely ridiculous and childish to him, through integrated (and self conscious) eyes, although Kakeru takes it seriously before he can backpedal in embarrassment.  

Integration to 4:

“I want to need someone, and be needed in return… I don’t want to just receive. I want to give. Something only I can give.”

Towards the end of the series, Yuki is able to identify worth in his own individuality. It is almost always in the context of how this can help others- he obviously takes pride in his ability to understand Machi, delighted with himself when she likes his gifts. Reciprocally, her correct identification of his disguised loneliness also helps in his integration, as he begins to feel “seen,” and understood by someone else on the level that many Fours hope to be. 

Yuki, however, also begins to allow himself to express a less saintly personality (”I’ll hurl you into the sun,” he tells Kakeru, deadpan, on one occasion- similarly he teases Machi, making to throw her set of keys out of the window when she rejects them) which speaks to an acceptance of his own personality and a desire for self-expression overcoming his need to be liked. 

His decision to stop tying his own thoughts and feelings to the actions of Akito is also ultimately helpful for him in his integration- by taking responsibility, he removes the power Akito previously held to impact his self-worth, even before the curse is broken;

“I’m sorry. I won’t return to where you are ever again.”

Childhood Wound: Felt loved only when giving to others, personal needs felt selfish

“Maybe disappearing is the first truly useful thing I can do.”

Yuki feels completely “abandoned,” by his mother when he is sent to serve as a companion for Akito. He is made only to feel useful in this capacity- after he wanders off and comes back crying, she strikes him and berates him;

“Where on earth have you been? Hurry up and go back to the head of the family. I refuse to be humiliated over something so insignificant.”

Akito too, assigns Yuki value only in terms of his usefulness;

“If I didn’t care for you, there’d be no reason for you to be alive.”

Combined with the constant reinforcement that everyone other than Akito hates him, Yuki begins to believe, at an extremely young age, that there “really is no point to [his] existence,” if it really causes so much pain for those around him.

w1:

“It’s just because I want people to like me. That’s why I’m kind to them… I’m only kind for myself. It might be some kind of fake generosity.”

Like many Ones, Yuki is principled and self-controlled; when he does something, he generally does it well. Unlike most Twos, Yuki’s One wing has made him painfully aware that he thrives off of performing acts of kindness for others- he views these acts, therefore, as selfish, and like many unhealthy Ones, believes that he is inherently corrupt. As Yuki strives for his definition of perfection- the impossible “true altruism,” he sees in Tohru and others, he falls into the pattern of many compulsive, perfectionist Ones. 

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Could you type Twilight Sparkle (MLPFIM) because Im pretty sure she is a textbook 5

Hi @daniluni, thank you for the request! I had a think on this, and a few other types came to mind, but ultimately I agree- Twilight is a good example of a Five with pretty visible integration throughout the series overall.  

TWILIGHT SPARKLE

5w6

“Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight is introduced as a preoccupied Five; self-isolating, high-strung, and intense. She is typical in many respects, curious, intense, dedicated to the study of a particular field (in her case, magic.) Initially, she doesn’t see the value in forming relationships with the majority of those around her, more interested in being useful than being liked, but over the course of the series she integrates into a self-confident leader, open to those around her.

Basic Fear: Being useless, helpless, or incapable

“Is there a book about being a princess I should read?!”

Twilight’s approach to life is empirical- in Look Before You Sleep, for example, she tries to approach fun with a checklist, and fails spectacularly. Like many Fives, at the start of the series she depends on books and data from others to try and inform her decisions and thus compensate for her perceived social incapabilities. With development, she comes to realise that she can gain knowledge from her own experiences, too.

Basic Desire: To be capable and competent

“I want to make a contribution,  // I want to be a part of the plan.”

Twilight is forever carving out roles for herself- she is not satisfied unless she is doing something of value. In Mare in the Moon, she is researching of her own prerogative, and while she is proud when told by Celestia that her diligence is valued, she is horrified when she thinks her advice is being undermined. As a 5w6, she is a problem solver- in Winter Wrap Up, she is distressed by her lack of a contribution to the town’s efforts for much of the episode, and only happy again when she finds her role (coincidentally, by leaning into her Eight integration.) Similarly, when she becomes a Princess, she is not content just to enjoy the title- she actually wants to take on some responsibility as the other Princesses do, to prove that she deserves to stand beside them. This is demonstrated yet again when she founds the School of Friendship.

Disintegration to Seven:

“…I only had one other choice. Monitor everything. That way, no matter what happens in the future, I’ll be ready.“

It’s About Time provides a pretty comprehensive view of what Twilight is like when she disintegrates- like an unhealthy Seven, as she grows more stressed, she grows more hyperactive and scattered- rushing about it an attempt to keep her eye on everything at once, sacrificing her responsibilities of self care and care to Spike in order to try and handle the threat. Lesson Zero is a similar example, where she resorts to sabotaging others to hide evidence of her “incapability,” equating its discovery to the worst case scenario. 

Integration to Eight:

“Friendship isn’t always easy, but there’s no doubt it’s worth fighting for.”

Like a healthy Eight, Twilight shines in leadership positions. When she has the necessary level-head, she is able to act authoritatively and decisively in order to keep a situation under control, as in Games Ponies Play, when she emulates Cadence while the rest of her friends panic- taking a deep breath, and setting out a plan- without room for discussion or argument. This is also exemplified in her mentorship role with Starlight Glimmer, which speaks to a level of innate self-assurance far beyond anything she possessed at the start of the series.

w6

“I hope the Princess was right.”

While Mare in the Moon frames Twilight as a shut-in, this isn’t the full picture. Twilight does have an inner circle she is fiercely loyal to- albeit a very small one- consisting of Celestia and Spike. A small inner circle is actually very common to a Six- slow to trust, but faithful once that trust has been achieved. Even after Twilight has widened her horizons, she is still arguably the protagonist with the smallest circle of friends- rarely are her friendships with characters outside of the mane six explored (beyond those that are related to her in a familial sense.) She also displays more negative Six traits- such as the bouts of anxiety she’s prone to. Ultimately, though, her core is in Five- because as much as she blanches at undermining Celestia, she has been shown to trust her own information and conclusions, acting on them even when they undermine those she trusts wholeheartedly.

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RENEE MINKOWSKI

3w2

“You know what you look like, Lieutenant? With your perfect salute and your extra-starched uniform? Like someone who very much wants to matter.”

Minkowski is an exemplar Three, success-oriented, status and image-obsessed, ravenous for recognition. She oscillates between various stages of integration and disintegration throughout the series, but ultimately her journey is one of positive development.

Basic Fear: Of being worthless / Basic Desire: To feel valuable and worthwhile

“How old were you when you started trying to get rid of your accent? Thirteen? Eleven? All so that one day, if you worked hard enough, if you were good enough, they'd forget where you were from and let you in.”

The audience gains perhaps the most insight into Minkowski’s basic motivators during her conversation with Cutter in Once in a Lifetime. “Every word… [of Cutter’s analysis of her] ...hit[s] home,” for Minkowski, revealing the truth behind his assertion; that since childhood, much of her energy has been invested in preventing a Three’s basic fear- of being deemed worthless.

As a way of preventing these fears from coming to pass, many Threes;

”package themselves according to the expectations of others and what they need to do to be successful…”

For Minkowski, this manifests in her initial rule-oriented approach to her Command, and to the moderation of her accent, even her reluctance to correct Eiffel on the pronunciation of her name- since doing so repeatedly would prove that she has not successfully earned his respect, she tells him instead to call her Commander, preserving the illusion of success. It is by promising a complete eradication of Minkowski’s bafic fear (and basic desire) that Cutter is able to overcome her initial reluctance to accept the Hephaestus mission.

“Don't make your parents' mistakes, Renée. Show them what you're made of. Two years with us... And no one will dare to reject you again.”

After this statement, Minkowski accepts the position without further thought- as Cutter successfully identifies her Achilles’ heel.

Disintegration to 9:

“Because as laughable as the universe seems to find it, I am in charge of this disaster.”

Like every character in Wolf 359, Minkowski experiences plenty of periods of disintegration throughout the experience, under massive stress as she is. Minkowski Commanding, provides perhaps the most comprehensive example. In this episode, Minkowski demonstrates the obsessiveness of the woman who applied to NASA five times, neglecting sleep, food, and other necessities to stalk the plant monster infesting the station. Like an unhealthy Nine, she becomes disengaged and apathetic- insulting them, and content to leave Eiffel suspended in a trap for hours to achieve her goal.

“It's great that you can blow me off and take crazy killer plants for granted, but I can't. I have to take it seriously! If I can eliminate one threat, just one, then we are that much closer to going home ... I am going in there, and I am going to get this thing! “

Much of her fervor stems from the fact that the plant monster’s free reign reflects as a failure on her part. The number of “I,” statements in the quotation above reveals not only that she feels responsible for the problem to begin with, but that its existence, and her inability to solve it, is affecting her own sense of self-worth.

Integration to 6:

“Because I've never been in command, I can't retake it. But, if you'll allow me, sir, I would be honored to relieve you of your duties, and assume command of the U.S.S. Hephaestus Station.”

Early on in the series, Minkowski responds to stress by cutting off her support system in the hopes of hiding her failures. Later, she is able to depend on others for support, like a healthy Six, as when she asks Lovelace to take up command temporarily on her behalf. This ultimately allows for her development into a healthy Three- self-assured enough to announce her own competence and value, and finally breaking the cycle of depending on outside sources to confirm it for her. Ultimately, her integration culminates in putting a harpoon- a symbol of her past insecurities, in light of Minkowski Commanding through Cutter’s chest, and in killing him, proving she is no longer beholden to his measures of her worth (or lack-thereof.)

Childhood Wound: Equating Self-Worth with Achievement

“...they would have done so much more... If they hadn't stopped. If they hadn't gotten married and had kids. Well, had one kid. “

Minkowski’s childhood wound is an example of one that is apparently primarily self-imposed. Her parents, a scientist and a diplomat, are successful people who “almost changed the world,” but retired to focus their efforts on raising Minkowski. Speaking to Minkowski on this, Cutter observes:

“You never quite understood it, did you? They had so much going for them and where did they end up? Thirty years teaching checked out students at a bad California college.”

There is no evidence, (particularly taking into account their own life paths,) that Minkowski’s parents place any pressure on her to succeed- but it is clear that making their sacrifices for her worthwhile is tied to her own sense of self worth.

w2:

“I care about exactly one thing: getting my people - all my people - back to Earth.”

It is important to note that when Minkowski hesitated to accept the Hephaestus, the only thing stopping her was her want to discuss the situation with her husband first. Given that this has “always been [her] dream job,” this hesitation speaks to a self-sacrificing personality demonstrated continually throughout the show- as when she chose to remain on the Hephaestus during Brave New World in an attempt to save humanity, rather than to reunite with her husband. Like many Twos, she often falls into the role of a caretaker- preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her crew, for example, and remaining ultimately fond of Eiffel despite his insubordination. At moments, she also exhibits the less savoury traits of a Two, such as her occasionally controlling tendency- as when she attempts to send Eiffel back to Earth against his will.

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MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF

 7w8

“I left every town better than I found it.”

After Mollymauk’s death, Taliesin Jaffe stated that “[The Lingering Soul]”- an unsatisfied, lingering specter clinging to the mortal world, “is literally the opposite of Molly." Sevens are not typically known for making peace with their own mortality- their passionate restlessness makes them, perhaps paradoxically, the type most likely to experience the kind of regret and dissatisfaction that might turn them into a ghost, living or dead. 

Mollymauk is different.

Viewing Mollymauk through the lens of a healthy, happy Seven, well in touch with his heart centre and simultaneously retaining both his hunger for pleasurable and exciting experiences, and a thankfulness towards the time he perceives as “borrowed,” rather than owed, he is a rare example of a character who starts his onscreen journey mostly integrated.

Basic Fear: Of being deprived and in pain

“Fjord, don’t you dare have fun without me!”

Mollymauk is here to have a good time, ravenous for new experiences. His engagement with the world around him also serves as a buffer, however, to avoid rumination that may lead to pain. He identifies as completely separate from his past self (or selves,) and resists the idea of investigating them, despite his curiosity in many other aspects of his life. This stems from his identification of the matter as a potential source of psychological pain-

“Whatever it was, it doesn’t feel good when I– the moment when something creeps through, I don’t like it. I don’t want anything to do with it. I was happy! I liked the circus! The circus was great!”

And also as a potential obstacle to his freedom;

“What if it feels that I owe [my past] something?”

In this way, Molly manifests the avoidance of and determined distraction from potential pain common to Sevens. One of the only times the audience sees Molly lash out is in response to this fear being invalidated and probed by Nott, solidifying its significance to him.

NB: It is important to note, that for Mollymauk, physical suffering does not qualify as “pain,”- he subjects himself to it regularly in combat- it’s psychological pain that he is trying to outrun.

Basic Desire: To be satisfied and content—to have their needs fulfilled

“I only said the word ‘empty’ over and over again for a week. I don’t know what that means… [Empty] sounds terrible.”

At the start of Mollymauk’s life, he is living a Seven’s worst fear- he is completely devoid of any meaningful experiences, relationships, or even possessions, and thus, completely unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Molly is lucky, however, in that he finds contentment early on, with the circus-

“The circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me and joy can fill an awful lot of a person’s life.”

And later with the Mighty Nein.

Integration:

“"Disappearing into the oblivion of base pleasure," that is drink and drunks and sex, and working one gig after another.” - Taliesin on Mollymauk

On the surface, Mollymauk might appear to be an unhealthy Seven- his love for drinking, drugs, and sex, might seem harmful, but for Molly, none of these things are an addiction, nor demonstrably harmful to himself. Instead, they are part of the process of amalgamating as many experiences as possible- in the same category of exciting as visiting a candy shop. In a similar vein, his reluctance to confront the past at no point becomes dangerous to him or those he cares about, and as such never crosses the line into an act of irresponsibility.

In truth, Mollymauk is a textbook example of a healthy Seven, vivacious, cheerful, enthusiastic about sensation and experience. Like an integrated Seven, he manifests healthy Five tendencies, “fascinated by life,”- and critically, he is fascinated by people and generous, though not selfless, in his attempts to spread joy.

Childhood Wound:

“You know what just occurred to me? I didn’t have a childhood. I’ve never said that out loud to someone before.”

Mollymauk’s “childhood,” is unusual, if not non-existent, but his first few days of consciousness are completely solitary. Either way, he is completely without parental nurturing- the circus comes close, but still engage in hazing rituals with him; they are hardly a replacement for the lack of unrequited love and caregiving that children typically experience.

w8

“There’s a way not to give a fuck about what people think while still giving a fuck about people.”

Molly’s Eight wing manifests itself more subtly than his core type; in his confidence, his protectiveness of his people, (his relationships with Yasha, Toya, and even those that develop with the Nein- with Caleb after his flashback, for example) and his tendency to take control of a situation. His forceful, but ultimately kind mediation of the conflict with the bandits, and his intimidation of Caleb in response to his lack of transparency with the group demonstrates this handily. From The Enneagram Institute:

“[Eights] use their abundant energy to effect changes in their environment—to “leave their mark" on it—but also to keep the environment, and especially other people, from hurting them and those they care about.”