#and dion's not the only one :)

[this-is-krikkit]

good morning and fuck the hypocrisy of those games as a whole but thanks again for that eurovision on crack level of an opening ceremony ig

[beliscary]

late to the meme but 🥺🥺🥺🥺 prithee

[baconplasm]

I spent too much time on this shitpost so I have to post it

(context: Dion’s voice actor on Twitter )

[razzle-zazzle]

1896 words; post-canon

Secret Santa for @loudlychoppedbread! A oneshot of Lili flirting with Raz via bad pickup lines!

AO3 ver

Lili needed to get Raz to visit her garden more often.

Well, maybe not. It was her space, as nice as it was to have Raz help her with the flowers. Even if his herbaphony was next to nonexistent and his green thumb was more like a small thumbnail. But it was nice to share this with him, and he was just so…

A jet of water splattered onto the begonia in front of her, putting out the flame that had started eating at the leaves. Lili flinched back, face flushing as she realized she what she had almost done in her distraction.

“You okay?” Raz asked, pulling the watering can away from the begonia. “Usually I’m the one setting your plants on fire.” He added, a small grin at his little joke.

Lili snorted. “That was one time.” She physically stepped back from the begonia, and mentally stepped back from thinking about stupid boys with cute faces and heroic attitudes that made her want to cup that face in her hands and just shake it for being so stupid and cute and frustratingly endearing—

The smell of burnt hair was the only warning Lili got before the watering can was turned upon her, Raz standing upon a levball as he put out the tiny flame. She shrieked, startled. Raz snickered. See? I can water the lilies just fine! He grinned, thought trickling down into Lili’s brain.

“I’ll get you for that!” Lili declared, lunging forwards. Raz yelled, levball rolling back before he tumbled off of it entirely, flipping backwards away from Lili’s tackle. The watering can fell to the ground, forgotten in the chaos as Lili and Raz tumbled around in the grass. The plants were shouting in their own way, either encouraging the tussle or demanding it stop before something got trampled.

So, yeah. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to have Raz in her garden. Or near her at all.

But Lili was better than this! She wasn’t gonna let some stupid crush get to her! She was gonna take this crush and crush it the best way she knew: by flirting.

As this was a matter of the utmost importance, Lili had to pull out the Big Guns. She’d hesitated to do this, both because there were bigger things to worry about and because she wasn’t sure yet—but now it was time to come out and say it.

“Did it hurt?” Lili asked, not quite blurting the words out but still speaking more abruptly than she wanted.

“Did what hurt?” Raz asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. For a single, precarious moment, the very concept of words fled Lili’s mind, replaced by flames and only flames. Raz stared at her, expecting a response. Lili stared back. Stalemate.

“When you fell from heaven!” Lili blurted. The tulips startled at the sound, but Raz—

“Um.” Raz’ face flushed, slightly, before he recovered his bravado, “Of course not. I learned how to fall before I learned how to walk.”

Now it was Lili’s turn to be flustered—that wasn’t how she expected him to react. But she probably should have expected it, given Raz’ acrobatic proficiency and general… Raz-ness. Still, she would not be so easily cowed.

“Yeah, well, if you were a vegetable,” Lili started, grabbing Raz’ gloved hand in hers, “You’d be a cute-cumber.”

Pink and white streamers shot from Raz’ mind to hers, flustered snarls of flattery tangling their link. His mouth opened, face flushed as he fumbled for words.

“You’re cute too!” He managed, through the swoon clawing at his mind. Lili giggled, satisfied with her victory—no, wait, Raz was floating up into the air—Lili snagged Raz’ hand, yanking im back down to earth. He landed on her with a dull thud that knocked the air out of both of them.

After a moment, Lili laughed.

+=+=+=+=+

Lili hopped off the balance beam, having successfully made her way across it with minimal wobbling.

“You did it!” Raz cheered, grabbing her hand.

“Of course I did.” Lili agreed, squeezing Raz’ hand back. His mind sloshed against hers, tangly vines creeping between the two of them as they giggled. The perfect moment!

“Are you from Tennessee?” Lili asked. At Raz’ confused look, she elaborated, “Because you’re the only ten I see.” A prime line, taken directly from observing her dad in action—so it was guaranteed to work.

And work it did, because Raz’ giggle turned into a squeak. He started to float, his grip on Lili’s hand tightening—

“That has got to be the lamest pickup line I’ve ever heard.” Dion chuckled, perched up on a tree branch overhead. He jumped off, flipping through the air on his way down. He rolled as he hit the ground, coming to a stop just in front of them.

Raz scoffed, eyes already rolling. “Yeah, because you hear so many pickup lines.”

“Mmhm.” Dion nodded, blatantly ignoring Raz’ sarcasm. “Tons.” He grinned, only to look at Raz again and double-take. “Why are you floating.” He grit out, sounding annoyed but broadcasting wary.

“I’m not floating.” Raz denied, pulling on Lili’s arm and landing back on the ground very suddenly.

Dion’s eyebrows quirked in disbelief, before he visibly decided it didn’t matter. “Whatever. Mom wanted me to ask if you were gonna stay for dinner.”

Lili’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know Raz’ older brother very well, but what she did know of him she didn’t like very much. “My pickup lines are great, actually.” She interjected, pulling her hand from Raz’ so she could put both hands on her hips for a good and proper glare. It probably wouldn’t be too rude to set Raz’ brother on fire, right? She could probably put it out before any real damage was done. Probably.

“I don’t care if you’re ten or whatever, your pickup lines suck.” Dion said, and now Lili really wanted to set him on fire. She opened her mouth to retort—

“Well, I like them!” Raz interjected. Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by the sound of a levboard grinding to a halt as Gisu came to a stop next to the group. “Sup?” She greeted, one foot on the ground, the other on her levboard.

“Hey.” Dion greeted, the look on his face a little bit similar to the way Raz sometimes looked at Lili. Lili resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t get why or how, but somehow putting Gisu and Dion together made them both so lame.

Gisu grinned, something like determination leaching off of her. “Just wanted to say,” she started, “If you were a McDonald’s burger, you’d be the McGorgeous.” She wiggled her eyebrows, smug grin threatening to shake into laughter the longer she stood there. “And babe, I am starving.”

Dion brought a hand to his mouth to cover a scuffed laugh, flush dusting his cheeks. Infatuation rolled off him in waves, so obvious that Lili probably didn’t even need to be psychic to notice it. Ewwwwww.

“That was awful.” Lili opined. Neither Dion nor Gisu seemed to care, though, already darting away on Gisu’s levboard with stupid sappy grins on their faces. Geez, Lili and Raz didn’t look at all like that when they were together. Not at all!

“I don’t get what she sees in him.” Raz said. He tentatively reached out, grasping Lili’s hand in his. Lili squeezed back, and resolved to put weird older brothers out of her mind.

“You know, if I could rearrange the alphabet,” Lili started, “I think I’d put U and I together.” She grinned as Raz blushed, rising a few inches into the air. Boldened by the victory, she continued. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Raz asked.

“Sounds like we’re near an airport!” Lili declared, squeezing Raz’ hand. “Because my heart is taking off!”

It took a solid ten minutes before Raz came back down.

+=+=+=+=+

Lili frowned. Francis needed more water, Fred needed a little more sun, and Fiona was complaining about aphids even though there were ladybugs all over—

“Hey, Lili!” Raz’ voice broke through her thoughts, his mental presence a calm balm against Lili’s rising frustrations. And also another source of frustration. But mostly a balm.

Lili turned her attention away from the begonias to look at Raz, who was balanced on a levball. “Yeah?”

Raz grinned. “Wanna see me do a flip?” He asked, bouncing in place.

“O…kay?” That was weird. Raz never asked to do flips or cartwheels—he just did them, when he felt like it. Lili could tell he was planning something, but when she probed with her mind, a wave of mischievous winking and wait-and-sees blocked her out.

“Watch this!” Raz rolled his levball, looking ready to launch into a flip—

“Ow!” Raz declared, stumbling forwards, levball popping beneath him. His knees hit the dirt, and his head was quick to follow, only for his arms to hit the ground first and transfer his momentum into a somersault. A somersault that ended with him prone on the ground, face in the dirt as he groaned, but a somersault nonetheless.

“Wh—are you okay?” Lili grabbed Raz’ shoulder, hauling him back up. He flopped down, limp against her hold, and Lili almost dropped him floundering for something she could use to help—

Raz rolled over, throwing his arm over his forehead. “Lili…” He groaned, face pinched in pain.

“What?” Lili demanded, kneeling down beside him. “Did you break something?”

“I need…” Raz sighed dramatically, one eye cracking open to look at her before slipping closed again, “I need first aid.” He said, his other hand falling over his chest. “Because I hurt my knees falling head over heels for you.” He finished, his head lolling to the side and his tongue falling out of his mouth with one, final, “blegh.”

Lili froze. All of her earlier panic slammed face-first into the wall of realization as it hit her what Raz was actually doing. “You—” Her face burned, her chest suddenly very light—almost weightless. The ground fell away from her, Raz sinking down as that weightless feeling grew out from her chest into her arms and legs. She curled up, burying her face in her knees to muffle a flustered scream as the ground continued to sink down away from her. Unfair! That was so unfair!

“Lili?!” Raz’ eyes were open wide now as he stared up at her. She floated a little higher, squeezing her knees against her chest as though it might soothe the fire burning up her brain. Stupid cute boys with heroic streaks who were nice and cute and made her want to bite her own pigtails and punch him in the shoulder—

Raz’ hands grabbed onto her arm, pulling Lili from her thoughts. He was standing on a levball, arms stretched as far as he could reach in order to grab onto Lili before she floated off entirely.

“Stop being so cute.” Lili grumbled, uncurling just enough to grab Raz’ hands in hers.

“I could say the same to you.” Raz flirted back, the weightlessness coming back in full force. Lili gasped, fumbling for a response that would send Raz floating right up into the air with her—

No words came to mind. Their feelings intertwined, and Raz floated up without Lili needing to say anything at all.

It took a long time for them to come back down.

[wasabichips]

enjoying my time with my favorite old man before square enix takes him away from me again 💔

[newty]

🍄 *grabby hands at more headcanons*

Writer Truth or Dare!

terence is bad with his hands. martial feats, mathematics, philosophy--he's got those in the bag. but anything like musical instruments, sewing, handwriting? forget abt it. he practices by peeling apples and then he cuts himself.

dion has a great memory for recitation. he can quote bible verses, poetry, theatre, that stupid thing lord de croisset said six months ago, centuries-old laws, and whatever else gives him the upper hand against terence's protests abt safety

one time a musketball shattered a window terence was walking in front of. he kind of just. nonchalantly stared at the empty pane and broken glass and moved on w his day, but ppl who saw it were like 'UM the high commander glared at a window and it burst??'

dion cant hold his breath for long. this is really inconvenient for him when he wants to dive underwater or walk through burning buildings, as he frequently finds reasons to do. also bahamut can't swim. just no. anyone could have told you that but he tried and took out a shoreline battery with the flailing/drowning/ridiculous wings.

this is more apparent in my wwi headcanons, but terence goes thru periods of insomnia. sometimes he goes wandering and a dragonet or two will sneakily tag along after him to protect his bleary butt as he squints at the sky or does little tasks

[lettuceflower]

what i want to happen:

a cid dlc that explores his backstory and ends with him sneaking into oriflamme's mothercrystal and fighting dion (which actually happened in canon, so they just need to show it)

or a joshua dlc that explores what happened between the prologue and him reuniting with clive

or a dion dlc where he does literally anything, i don't care. the dion dlc could be him picking flowers for 2 hours and i would buy it

what will probably happen:

a dlc that introduces leviathan’s dominant, aka a brand new character that i do not care about (unless it’s kihel the medicine girl, but i’m not completely sold on that theory)

a clive dlc where he goes on some random adventure with jill idk

also i highly doubt either of the dlcs will be post-game. the ending felt very final and intentional. regardless if you like the ambiguity or not, that's what they were going for, so i don't think they'll ever expand on the story after the ending. so no clive/jill reunion dlc ect.

[johanirae]

Dion selflessly declaring he only needs one bed in his tent because it is not fair that only he sleeps in comfort while his comrades doesn't. Take this second bed away!

The new dragoon wondering out loud about where Sir Terence sleeps then, because doesn't he spend all his nights in the Prince's tent-- *slapped upside the head by older knights*

[beliscary]

yeah yeah near death get together, very romantic. but actually dion and terence were dragon betrothed™️ for yeeaaaars prior to that overwrought melodrama. bahamut told me personally

[acheronist]

great lakes slang that warms my heart for no reason: ripping a dart.

like yeah. fuck yeah. absolutely no way anyone around here is Stepping Out For A Cigarette To Calm Their Nerves🚬😌 like nahhh baby you're gonna go stand outside in the busted ass driveway and rip a dart while realizing it's gonna rain later. you and your buddies fall out of the dive at 2am and go rip some fucken darts in a dirty damp alley while giggling the whole time. the only beer leaguer that can score on your team is out behind the rink ripping darts like a chimney during period breaks and you ask him when the hell are you gonna stop rippin' em you stupid dumb idiot and he says i'll stop smokin' em when I stop scorin' em and you dont know if he means goals or cigarettes..... like there really is a sense of urgency and undertones of 'ope gotta get my self harm done before i can get back to whatever the hell i was doing 15 minutes ago' about it which i find very delightful

[valiisthea]

I don't care how many people I add to my blog, Dion will always be my babyiest boy.

[potionwine]

Oooh, you’ve also seen Nirvana in Fire?!? That was SO good. And as inspiration for PF?? That, explains some things, dang! It works

My friend. My dear. My lovely Cimi—

WHAT in the world—

Have I seen the drama that bloody changed my life; my favourite comfort c-drama; the series that I rewatch yearly the way I rewatch lotr every Christmastime; that exquisite story with the most incredible breadth and variety of characters with impeccable character work and amazing themes and an ending that respects its viewers which however tragic is thoroughly earned and identity porn and politics and pride and grief, god, so much grief—and an Emperor who is shakespearean in his tragedy and—

Okay. Okay, no, you could not have known, tis a failure of my part if I have not spoken enough about it—I probably mostly reply to other people's posts as they liveblog their watching but. BUT. God when I saw your ask it felt like you came up to me to remark "hey wow so you also ship PF?" that's how gobsmacked I was lol!!!

I have dragged everyone in my life into watching this show! I have mutuals on here who can testify to my introducing them to it omg. I just checked and the earliest NIF post I reblogged was in 2016 so I have been watching it every year since 2016 hahaha!!! Although it's pretty complex chinese, and since so much of the show is made up of characters sitting around talking the intricate plot into existence, it's not really a beginner-friendly c-drama either!!!

NOW I DIDN'T KNOW YOU'VE WATCHED IT TOO???!!!

I. have. been. going. UTTERLY MENTAL. at the lack of anyone with whom I could talk about it? OR SO I THOUGHT. So many times I thought of going into our discord to be like "has anyone ever heard of NIF because hhhhhhh the phoenixflare resonance" or like "so is anyone into TGCF perhaps perchance mayhap???"——because heh. hehehehe. heheheh??? My fic is practically a NIF/TGCF mashup, it's a Lin Shu+Xie Lian!Joshua Rosfield & Jingyan+Hua Cheng!Dion Lesage——and I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I wanted to ask god please does anyone else see my vision please god does anyone?? but no one would even understand the references, and I couldn't even ask in areas (asian fandom) where there would be a higher chance of people knowing what crack I'm on because asian fandom is all about that...you know...that I loathe—and I have been in pain and I thought right well fine I'm writing the fic anyway it's fine if I have no one to scream about it with because I'm writing it and then I'll find fellow competence porn+politics enjoyers if they find my fic and—and.

God. What an earth-shattering message to receive in my askbox! You are some sort of miracle <3

Do you see it??? Do you see it? A boy who burned to death in an inferno as an innocent betrayed youth in a catastrophic event caused by his own family, his father slain, his entire clan (and all the troops under his banner) wiped out or scattered. A boy reborn after extensive and horrific injuries after an agonisingly long period of recovery: a ghost who crawled his way out of the gates of hell, the last of his broken once-noble house.

That boy's transformation into his new identity of Mei Changsu/Margrace. His off-screen discovery of the truth that led to Meiling/Phoenix Gate and his continued on-screen quest to learn more. His determination to hold the true culprits accountable at immense personal cost and suffering. His dogged persistence despite incredible odds and visibly failing health. Being surrounded by people who love him and want to protect him, and himself constantly undermining their efforts because his goals are more important than his health. (Because in truth he knows perfectly well that he won't survive, but he can make a difference while he is alive.)

Something that amuses me hugely is how Lin Shu and Joshua literally both come back as 宗主? I love it so much! They come back with the same title! Both of them come back as clan leaders of an organisation that obeys their every command! Margrace is the 不死鳥教団の宗主(=leader of the cult of the undying bird) and Mei Changsu is 江左盟的宗主(=leader of the Jiangzuo alliance).

AND. Hooooo yea this PF fic is just JingSu at this point because oh, a handsome, principled, prideful, and stubborn prince who is a decorated warrior famed for his numerous military accomplishments and the man who is essential to the success of Lin Shu's/Joshua's plans? The resurrected boy barging into his prince's life: no matter how insane it is to choose your side, still "I choose you, Your Highness Prince Jing"??? The fact that the undervalued prince has a history with our secretive ghost protagonist? And (arguably) frequently thought about and missed the bright boy he knew once upon a time in happier days—"I know you," says Dion Lesage without a shadow of a doubt, extremely normal of him to instantly recognise a dead boy he met 20 years ago?

Mutual admiration of each other's integrity and capabilities? Reciprocal faith and remembrance? The foundation of deep respect and enduring friendship, their shared goals and shared family??? I froth at the mouth. JingSu are cousins, PF are stepsiblings by their parents' marriage. Each pair is bound by destiny and by choice—other people have made choices that permanently entangled each pair's lives together forevermore (Joshua+Dion and Jingyan+Xiaoshu), and the choice they themselves personally made to choose each other—

DO YOU SEE THE VISION.

How difficult it is to pursue justice when everyone involved is family and how impossible it is for Lin Shu the nigh-extinguished Chiyan fire for Joshua, the guttering flame, to indict Jingyan's father the Emperor of Liang Dion's father the Emperor of Sanbreque of his crimes against Joshua's family without opening old wounds and hurting many loved ones in the process including Dion himself. The people directly responsible for the tragedies are related to the protagonists in one way or another! If Lin Shu Joshua ever wants resolution for his grief unending, he has to strike at his beloved's father, and plot meticulously to avoid all of the dangers of attacking such a powerful enemy.

(Of course, I acknowledge the critical difference in Jingyan's versus Dion's feelings about their respective fathers.)

Now if only Joshua had done the famous blizzard scene with Dion instead of letting him go off to carry out his ill-advised coup—"Xiao Jingyan! You stand where you are! If I don't stop you today, what are you going to do? What do you think you can possibly accomplish if you charge in to challenge imperial power like this? Do you think you can simply force the Emperor [to do what you want/change his mind about Anabella Wei Zheng]? You have honour and valour but why do you just not have brains! How many more people must be hurt, you tell me!"

Anyway Joshy doesn't have the insufferable smugness of Xiaoshu but he does absolutely have Xiaoshu's pride, the sort of pride that is not just personal pride but familial pride too (after all Joshua comes from extremely prestigious lineage)—just look at how he speaks to Ultima in every scene, his lordly manner. Joshua I think has more Consort Jing to him, and Consort Jing is only my favourite character in all of NIF, in a drama where I love every character to bits—steel in softness, ever gentle ever polite yet not to be bullied and not to be underestimated and also extremely perceptive and learned and patient. Extra sweet bonus that Consort Jing is also a healer. Elegant, restrained, and very repressed. Who knows the depths of Joshua's Consort Jing's grief and loss?

But you know, Jingyan, near the end he is completely in charge—the prince who was always a great and respected general on the battlefield is now more than that, he's directly taking responsibility for all of his people as their future ruler—that means thinking on multiple fronts and exerting control over all of the key governing officials, not merely his military officers. He's leading with confidence, and there's that little scene where he apologises to Xiaoshu for taking action on several plans without consulting him, and Xiaoshu says no, this is the way it should be, this is the correct state of affairs: you are the crown prince, and this is rightfully your arena. You lead, you decide, you command.

Jingyan now sees clearly, he's found out and accepted the truths of his father's role in the atrocity at Meiling and everything that happened back then. He rightly perceives the failings of his family and seeks to redress past wrongs and avoid repetition of past mistakes, he weeds his court of the corrupt and the cowardly, he's become the best possible version of himself: stronger than ever, not just a powerful wartime commander-in-chief but an inspiring leader in the imperial court, careful, thoughtful and politically up-to-speed, finally stable in his sense of self instead of being permanently stuck as that angry and lost and hurting child. He has renewed purpose, he possesses hope for the future, he is able to dedicate himself fully to what he truly believes to be right and act in furtherance of righteous causes—

Critically, this is the man he becomes only because Xiaoshu came back into his life to shake it up. Without Xiaoshu he wouldn't even have the opportunity or means or knowledge. The radiant and fiery boy who Jingyan missed all his life came back to save him. From the outsider prince without contacts or support within the imperial court->to the crown prince who has the court subdued within the palm of his hand. From his pitiful existence as a neglected, unfavoured prince, his lowkey constant simmering resentment, his half-dutiful half-forced obedience of paternal orders that chafe at his conscience->into the steadfast and self-assured prince who is capable of fighting for the betterment of his country and the rallying point for virtuous officials who share those aspirations. The drama shows the audience that Jingyan is unquestionably ready to assume rulership, and together with the person he loves most, they achieve their goals, they save each other and their country (by arresting its downward slide due to the rotten state of its governance).

It's just a strong headcanon of mine (albeit one that I can absolutely present extensive arguments for) but to me Joshua Rosfield is the one and only character able to perform that same abovementioned function for Dion Lesage. Catalyst, turning point, spark that ignites the fire—whatever you call it, this is salvation. It is beautifully poetic that both Lin Shu and Joshua are characterised by fire. They are the fires of change that burn away the old life: before their arrival, the two war princes exist in a state of wearying routine, long-suffering and almost hopeless. Both Jingyan and Dion are shackled by their stations and duties, both are unloved sons with virtually no chance of their circumstances improving without drastic action, and both are trapped in precarious situations where they are subject to the whims of their father (if their imperial fathers turn on them, it will result in irrevocable loss of their status).

Dion's position is weak in the Oriflamme imperial court—pretty sure this point isn't up for debate, since no one ever speaks up in support of him despite the obvious injustice of his ill-treatment. His degree of influence in the court is much, much, so much less than any reasonable person might expect someone who is literally Bahamut and crown prince to have. The Council of Elders and other officials stand by haplessly while he is progressively stripped of power in favour of Olivier. Nobody defends him, nobody objects. (Or maybe some did, and were eliminated.) Even Dion himself submits to the abuse despite inherently superior abilities. Career politicians know which direction the winds blow—they don't defy their Empress, meaning they are either her cronies or too fearful of her to make themselves a target by any raising any opposition. Added to that is the implication that Dion was often away for long periods—and as Xiaoshu explicitly tells Jingyan in the drama, the crown prince cannot leave the imperial capital untended because that is the surest way to lose power. Dion may be Sanbreque's mightiest weapon and revered by the populace, but in practice his political sway is almost negligible. He is not able to leverage himself effectively.

Don't get me wrong, for these reasons I extra extra love the canon portrayal of J*** obeying Joshua against her wishes and T****** obeying Dion against his wishes—I absolutely think their obedience is, to them, the truest and highest and final demonstration of their love and understanding of their respective masters. And both Joshua and Dion expected no less from them. [I've not typed the names out just in case the search function ends up capturing the post and putting it in their tags, not because I hate those characters; I just don't want to be uncivil within fandom.]

But the very point here is that, you know, sometimes you aren't supposed to leave someone just because they say so. Sometimes it is the worst possible course of action to obey someone just because they command it. Sometimes it is undesirable at best and disastrous at worst to support someone's every decision out of unchanging (if uncharitable, one might even say unthinking) loyalty. That is a fundamentally unequal relationship, and while beautiful in its own way, is also uniquely doomed. The truth is, Joshua was always going to pull that trigger, and Dion was always going to pull that trigger: the master was always going to sever the relationship. Those pairs were doomed as soon as they began, because one party can only ever say yes, and yes means the end, you see? That is The End, that is the final break. By their very subordinate nature and by their established personalities within the game, "yes" is the one and only answer J*** and T****** can ever or will ever give. Their master will say, "Leave me", meaning it is over, and they will reply, "Yes, I obey". Because this is the only answer that proves their devotion, leaving them totally incapable of changing the script. Both J*** and T****** knew it and played their parts to perfection, and my heart hurts for them.

In NIF terms, I reckon J*** is Gong Yu, and T****** is Lie Zhanying. Zhanying will follow Jingyan to the end, whatever it may be—in fact in one episode he explicitly says so, and his loyalty is never in doubt. He will go to his death if Jingyan orders it. He will always support Jingyan's decisions. He and the rest of Jingyan's men have been following Jingyan even when the prince was out of favour and cold-shouldered and constantly dispatched to safeguard the country's frontiers—inconvenient places where comfort is low and the environment harsh. Jingyan's favoured brothers live in the lap of luxury within their palaces (like Olivier), while Jingyan himself (like Dion) has always been at war. And as with Zhanying, T****** will never be able to change this status quo on behalf of Jingyan (Dion). For all his boundless dedication to his lord, Zhanying will never be able to improve his prince's standing in the court, never be able to secure more political power for his prince (unless his prince decides to revolt/coup), never be able to make his prince's father love or prize his prince.

It is not a problem of character or willpower or desire. It is, simply put, a problem of power. It is a problem of class. The servant rises as their master rises, and falls as their master falls. In other words, the servant's status is determined by their master's status. Zhanying is Jingyan's deputy. When Jingyan's status was elevated, Zhanying naturally also assumed commandership over more troop divisions because those were allocated to the prince by the Liang Emperor. (There is no doubt in my mind that T******'s status as second-in-command is because of Prince Dion. He's too young to have earned that position by gradual promotion through meritorious accomplishment. Unless you're telling me that the knights dragoon don't have a single officer above age 30.) Zhanying is invaluable to Prince Jing in security, in warcraft, and in a variety of generic daily tasks. However, he is part of the rigid imperial system and lower in the hierarchy. He may persuade his lord, but he cannot order him. He may disagree, but he cannot defy. He may privately despise the Emperor/Empress, but he cannot show it and cannot act on it (literally treason). His role is to follow and obey. If he does not perform that role for whatever reason, he fundamentally negates his utility to his lord.

Ergo, endgame Jingyan is only possible because his true equal and soulmate, his real zhiji, came back to challenge the status quo. In fact, came back to challenge him. It is not merely the fact that this person understands him above all, it is also the fact that this person has the ability to act on that understanding. Jingyan is technically also Xiaoshu's prince, master, and eventual Emperor—so where is the difference?

The difference is, Lin Shu is comparable in nobility. Lin Shu is the cousin of princes and the incumbent Emperor's nephew, Lin Shu was raised amongst the imperial household, and played and studied and fought and hung out with them as peers of roughly equal rank. In this respect Joshua actually outstrips Lin Shu: Joshua is a prince by blood, and had Rosaria not fallen (especially if Sylvestre had not risen to the throne), would have been higher status than Dion. It's a massive pet peeve of mine that so many fans in XVI fandom don't seem to realise that Joshua was crown prince? Everybody knows Dion is crown prince, but do they realise Joshua is the original? In the English version prologue, the knights do call him "prince" and "your highness". The Rosarian throne is Joshua's by right of birth. At the time of their meeting as children, Joshua outranked Dion. They were equals as Dominants of their nation, but Dion back then was the child of a Cardinal and not the child of Sanbreque's ruler at that time; i.e. he was not a prince and not in line for the Sanbrequois throne.

The other wonderful similarity is Lin Shu's and Joshua's statuses as outsiders to the system when they reintroduce themselves to Jingyan/Dion. As Jingyan's strategist, Lin Shu has more leeway with regards to making his prince listen to him and take his advice. But importantly, he is now Mei Changsu, and that means he is able to play outside of the system. The imperial system effectively cast him out when it killed him. The strict codes of imperial conduct no longer chain him as they chain those confined within its structure. As a free agent unlike Zhanying, he has the right and privilege of choosing his own master. That includes the right to leave or to change his mind. And although the prince's strategist is supposed to be subordinate too, Xiaoshu would never truly be subordinate in the same fashion no matter how many times he bows his head, because at his core he is still high nobility and it still shines through despite everything. His manners are still perfect. He still navigates life with the easy expectation that people will serve him. He grabs the Duchess' hand and yells at Prince Jing and gloats at Marquis Ning. It's all the little ways that remind the audience, over and over, that this man was raised as a posh lordling. You can remove the boy from the upper class but you can't remove the upper class from the boy. It's the same with Joshua. His manners are still court-perfect. He still moves through life accepting that he will be served. He may bow his head to Dion and call him "your highness" but he also takes the liberty of throwing himself at Dion for a hug. Because to him, the prince is not some lofty and untouchable figure to be addressed with unfailing deference, he's just a friend.

(I know T****** is minor nobility, to be honest Zhanying definitely is too. The deputies of high level royals aren't going to be commoners. But I don't think I have to explain the gulf between ruling class/a close blood relative of the monarch versus lower nobility.)

Joshua too is an outsider that isn't beholden to Sanbreque's Emperor in the way that all of Dion and his knights owe their fealty. Again in this respect Joshua has it better than Xiaoshu—Joshua is his own sovereign master, and that should impact his perspective, his sense of self, and therefore his behaviour with others and how he navigates the world.

Gong Yu... I think anyone who's watched NIF will know exactly why I say that J***'s counterpart is Gong Yu lol. I think the s/h/u/a/t/e/s want her counterpart to be Princess (Duchess) Nihuang and they certainly produce fanwork in that vein, and I respect them for it because fans be doing what they love and hooray for that. But..... she's Gong Yu.

For all these reasons I am utterly obsessed with a Joshua that pushes back at Dion. The person able to challenge the status quo and challenge Dion. An equal who listens to Dion's absurd speech in the palace at Twinside and calls utter bullshit, who says, "A matter for the imperial family? are you joking? that's my mother, that's my younger brother. an imperial matter for you to resolve? say rather, our family, OUR problem to resolve. You don't get to go off half-cooked to arrest or kill my mother without actual political strategies, notwithstanding your military capability to launch a coup. And also, what about your dad? However much I love you, my darling Dion, we have to talk about the way that you insist on poor little meow meowing your awful father because my dear old mum didn't do Phoenix Gate alone and she for sure didn't immaculately conceive Olivier."

Endgame Dion isn't satisfactory in several glaring ways and it annoys me hugely that even unto the end he never grapples with and confronts the truth of his father instead of the idealised version that lives in his head. It's a little bizarre how Dion's arc is often praised by fans, since it feels very incomplete to me. Or, well, fine, perhaps just unsatisfying (since XVI simply isn't his story). His deep-seated need to be loved by his father prevents him from seeing anything clearly, which is so ironic for the only character to possess a third eye in canon? His honour and his might have been squandered in service to a selfish, uncaring, and objectively bad monarch, yet despite how earnestly Dion wants to be a good prince to his people he seems wholly incapable of recognising this fact? His mind repeatedly shies away from his father's shortcomings. In one scene he calls his father out for words befitting a tyrant, yet ultimately he persists in the belief that his father simply needs to be saved from Anabella's evil influence as if Sylvestre Lesage isn't a 50-year-old adult man who schemed his way to the throne and killed a woman's whole family and happily married that woman to beget legitimate offspring with her.

Soooo....... I've just spoiled the whole plot of my fic but it's really just NIF nonsense as usual and that is actually extremely predictable of me. But honestly the spoiling is not a big deal, because as with NIF, fundamentally my story is not meant to be plot-twisty and suspenseful—the real storytelling skill of the NIF drama is that the audience should be able to quickly grasp the overarching plot with no difficulty because the pleasure of this particular type of story is to watch the protagonist achieve their heart's desire, step by delicious step. The objective of this type of story is to properly pay off what it promises. NIF=the wronged protagonist seeks justice. We already know Lin Shu will obtain justice by the end of the tale, what we are here to enjoy is the journey! Same really for IEM I reckon; by the end of chapter 1 Joshua's goals should be really obvious, and since my little fic will have the happy ending tag because I only ever write happy endings, the audience basically knows he'll succeed—it's very much a journey not destination kind of story.

Ooof the post is crazy long and took me 3 nights to compose an answer and I haven't even managed to go into any TGCF elements but that work mainly contributes to characterisation instead of plot. One of the craziest XVI scenes was the Hideaway's sickbay after Twinside, the genuine regret Joshua expressed and how he blamed himself for not reaching out to Dion sooner; now the Empire and her prince lie in ruins etc. Surely he remembers this is the country that destroyed his own? Surely??? What kind of person, robbed of home and throne, can find it in himself to respond with so much empathy and kindness? Sanbreque has now experienced pretty much the same tragedy they inflicted on Rosaria two decades ago, and isn't that just the funniest parody of divine retribution? Instead of viewing this as Sanbreque's just deserts, Joshua Rosfield pities them and wishes he could have helped them avert this disaster.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wonderfully Xie Lian-coded. Something something someone who has been through the worst and nevertheless chooses goodness and kindness. Someone who intimately understands the ugliest and lowest depths that people sink to, yet refuse to lose themselves in that temptation even when vengeance would seem perfectly justified.

You've known for a long time now that I love a Joshua who is very similar to his mother. This is why lol. It's about that delicious, delicious contrasting foil. It is the difference between Jun Wu & Xie Lian, as it is the difference between Anabella & Joshua. That the indestructible integrity we see from Xie Lian or Joshua didn't come easy, they weren't born perfect, their ethics were tested and forged and earned through suffering the likes of which most people will never know. The person that they have each become is the sum of their choices actively made. In the canon of TGCF and XVI, both of these ex-crown-princes live on in disgrace, in circumstances best described as reduced and humiliating, their respective kingdoms fallen, their wealth and glory spent—but they are better and braver human beings than everyone around them, they are beautiful and noble souls, quiet and unacknowledged, and only Hua Cheng and Dion truly see and fully understand that (and therefore cannot help but love them utterly).

I've a few more thoughts regarding Joshua swirling around as captured in other Xie Lian posts: here, here, here, and here. Not sure if you know TGCF or are into it as well, but just leaving links to those posts here for my own benefit too. I've been gravitating towards phoenixflare comparisons in various hualian meta posts since early 2024 so clearly these concepts have been stewing in my head for some duration, but I haven't fully teased out what it is about these two ships that gives me that niggling sense of connecting similarities.

^ Whereas I clearly know exactly what it is about JingSu that makes me point and holler "THEM!"

[mister-eames]

I see your Arthur singing Frank Sinatra and I RAISE you drunk!arthur singing Mariah Carey’s Loverboy (the firecracker version btw) at karaoke. Dream a little bigger, darlings and give that boy THE RANGE. Drunk!arthur doesn’t just sing, btw; he PERFORMS. & maybe eames has only worked with arthur a couple of times at this point so it’s like whiplash. Super serious pointman by day, karaoke king by night. He would be CHARMED.

Ooooh. So... a man like Arthur--for all intents and purposes, an 'uptight', all stitched in, no nonsense kind of man--has to have some kind of outlet, right, has to have some kind of side to him that goes to bed, undresses, relaxes, switches off, as we all do --a head to his tails, of sorts. I personally like to think Arthur is far from prim and proper (hey asshole, 'cause that worked so good, he's gonna help us break in...). I think, indulgently, despite how he presents himself at work, Arthur is.... very not neat and tidy, internally. Arthur is a red wine day-drinking, moodily salad-eating, elbows on the table (it's canon don't come for me) shit-at-life kinda mess outside of work. And I love however that manifests in our interpretations.

Let's say he sings.

I feel like drunk!Arthur definitely has a repertoire. Arthur knows the lyrics of his three-thousand-strong song playlist. Arthur had the first iPod nanos (and still does) and maxed them. Loverboy, L-O-V-E, American Pie, sung when he thinks he has no audience, tipsy, erring on drunk after more tequila than he remembers, maybe at karaoke, maybe just packing his suitcase for a job, sat on the floor cross-legged, rolling his socks into neurotic little mismatched bundles.

Eames stumbling across any of these, though. Like seeing the man behind the curtain, in a way, suddenly struck by this weird effervescence in his chest, a strange tickle under his sternum he initially mistakes for his own awkwardness, not realising some part of him was being dug out and reshuffled, making room for someone else. And then maybe filing that feeling away. Maybe letting it simmer. I don't know. I think Eames would feel some kind of way, moved unwittingly by Arthur's "messiness", Arthur outside of his own self made paradigm? *chefs kiss*.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 24: i've got a head full of chemicals, mouth full of ridicule

Goodbye note

3471 Words; Acrobat & the Spider

TW for the arachnophobic peeps bc gisu is a spider

AO3 ver

Gisu pushed open the door to the ballroom.

Or, well, it used to be a ballroom, but with the webbing and ropes and trapeze filling it, it wasn’t much a ballroom now. Maybe a bigtop? Indoor circus tent, now that was an idea!

Dion was lying down in the middle of the floor, his arms out to his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. It was weird, to see him so still—as long as Gisu had known him (which was both shorter and longer than she expected, huh) he had always been moving in one way or another, always full of anxious energy.

Well, what little she could pick up of his thoughts—damn curse, cutting her powers in half—was still anxious, at least. But it was more than his baseline.

Gisu walked over, coming to a stop a few feet away from Dion. His eyes flicked over to her, briefly, before returning to the ceiling.

“You okay?” She asked, sitting down. Well, more like letting her abdomen rest against the floor, all four legs splayed out around her, but it was the closest one could get to sitting when they were a giant spider monster, so it still counted.

Dion’s eyes closed, and he exhaled slowly.

The silence stretched on. Gisu pulled some spare thread from her spinnerets, twisting it between all four of her hands. Even so, her brain kept buzzing, latching onto Dion’s anxiety and bouncing it around in her head.

“They shouldn’t be waiting on me.” Dion said, finally, still staring at the ceiling. “They shouldn’t—I’m twenty-two. They don’t need to wait on me.”

Gisu said nothing. What could she say? She was the one who had asked Dion to stay here.

“And it’s not like I don’t get it.” Dion continued, “They’re worried. They have every right to be. But—” He swallowed, exhaling sharply as his jaw tightened and his brow furrowed, “I’m fine. I’m fine, and they’re—” He turned his head to look at Gisu, long brown curls pooling on the floor around him. “They’re losing money trying to find me.”

Gisu’s hands stilled as guilt washed over her. She’d done this. She’d asked Dion to stay here, with her, and now he and his family (his family, who he cared about so much it hurt) were suffering for it. This was her fault.

She should say something, anything to relieve the stress permeating the room. The room that they had been laughing and flinging themselves across only a day ago, chasing each other around and around without ever touching the floor.

Dion sat up, his legs folded in front of him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees, the buzzing anxiety of his thoughts hitting a crescendo. The bracelet that Gisu had made for him glinted in the light, and Gisu struggled to swallow a fresh gulp of guilt.

The silence stretched on. Gisu raised a hand to her mouth, gingerly tracing the edge of a chelicerae. Her fur had tickled him, when they kissed.

(But he had persisted anyway.)

Her chest had fluttered, when they’d kissed. She had felt on top of the world, she had felt wanted and pretty—

It was far from fluttering now.

“I miss them.” Dion admitted, his voice cracking. “I miss them all so much.”

“I’m sorry.” Gisu wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. She’d done this. She’d asked him to stay. She’d separated Dion from his family. This was her fault.

“If there was just some way I could talk to them…” Dion stared off into space, his arms wrapped around himself as he slowly rocked in place. His head was a mess of static to what little psychic senses Gisu still had.

Gisu turned her head away. She couldn’t look at Dion right now.

(She had never wanted to stop looking at him, never wanted to let him go.)

“None of us can leave the mansion.” Gisu said. “Sam can only control animals within the walls.” They had thought to use her minions as a way to talk to the outside world, when the curse had first been cast. They’d quickly learned that there was no talking to the outside world.

Dion muttered something. Gisu only caught the words Lizzie and gossip and treats, but now Dion was staring off into space contemplatively.

None of them could leave the mansion. It was a fact of their curse that couldn’t be changed. There was no way for them to contact the outside world—chances were it had long moved on without them, moved on while they were all stuck.

“Maybe…” Dion stood, snapping Gisu from her spiral. He was snapping his hand like he was trying to jog his memory, long legs powering him in a quick pace around the room. “That might work.” He muttered.

Gisu tilted her head. “What might work?” God, she could watch him for hours like this, full of energy. He already made for great background noise when she was working, rambling and muttering and moving—but when he had an idea? When his eyes lit up and he started walking on his hands trying to think through a problem? It was fascinating.

Dion didn’t respond, too lost in whatever he was thinking as he made his way out towards the door. Gisu managed to catch the image of a letter in his mind—and then he was gone.

Gisu huffed, annoyance briefly overriding her guilt. He could let her help! Maybe he had gotten it in his head that he had to handle it all on his own—Gisu was no stranger to that kind of thinking, loathe as she was to admit it.

Gisu frowned, and looked back up at the ceiling. Maybe Dion was right to want to do this—whatever it was—himself, she thought, as she looked at the webbing and rope strung up across the room, at the giant improvised trapeze. It had started as Dion’s project, when Gisu had handed the room over to him to do with as he wished—and then she had gotten her grubby hands all over it and added webs all over. And it had been fun, running around up there, her spider paws gripping the ceiling while Dion flipped from perch to perch like a budgie on crack—

But was this what Dion had envisioned, when he’d started building his makeshift trapeze? Or had he wanted something closer to the home that he missed? Were her additions even wanted at all?

(He had kissed her like he wanted it, like he wanted her—

She wanted him. She wanted him to want her. And not just to break the curse.)

Gisu had asked him to stay—with the (false, but he still fell for it) threat of keeping his younger brother instead—and he had stayed, but it wasn’t fair. Not to Dion. Not to anyone.

Gisu clenched her hands into fists. “I did this.” It was just like her, really—always screwing up in one way or another. Whatever Dion was planning to do with his letter, it was only because Gisu had asked him to stay.

“What would you even do?” She asked the door. What was Dion even planning? There wasn’t really a way to get the letter out of the forest. None of them could leave the mansion.

Gisu paused. None of them could leave the mansion—

None of them except Dion. Dion, who had agreed to stay on Gisu’s request, but who wasn’t beholden to the curse. Dion, who loved his family so much it almost hurt to hear him talk about them. Dion, who Gisu wanted so badly just because he made her feel wanted—

Gisu stood. She had messed up, but that was just part of being an engineer.

It was time she did something to fix the mess she’d caused.

+=+=+=+=+

Am I really going to do this?

Gisu wrung her hands—all four of them. All of her fur was standing on end, all of her senses screaming danger at her. Yet still, here she was, one of her hind legs twitching in anticipation.

Still, she had to do this. It was for the best.

Steeling her nerves, Gisu pushed open the study door. There were quite a few studies in the mansion, truth be told, but there was only one that was really used regularly. And she could faintly feel Dion’s mental print in there, so it wasn’t even a guess—she knew he was in there.

And there he was, hunched over balancing on his toes in a chair, writing something on a piece of paper—the letter Gisu had seen in his thoughts?

Dion looked up at her entrance. He blinked, looking like a deer in headlights for half a moment before his face split into a wide grin. “Hey, Паучок.”

Gisu almost snorted at the nickname—almost. She couldn’t let herself get distracted; she had a job to do. She maneuvered into the room with some difficulty—truly, this mansion was not quite built for giant spider monsters—and stood there, trying to gather the words.

Dion turned back to the desk.

Right. It was now or never. If Gisu didn’t do this now, she’d never find the courage. “You need to leave.” Gisu started. It was for the best, really—Dion deserved better than some run-down mansion and a monster who only messed everything up.

Dion looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Why?” And oh, there went Gisu’s resolve—

No! She could still do this! It was for the best, even if it hurt!

“You can’t stay here.” Gisu continued, wringing her inferior hands nervously. “You shouldn’t stay here.” Dion wasn’t the kind of guy who could just leave his family behind, he deserved to see them again and put all of this behind him—

“What are you talking about?” Dion had come to stand in front of her, his hand cupping Gisu’s face just behind her chelicerae. “Is there some kind of danger?”

Gisu pulled away and shook her head. “Please, Dion.” She urged. “You need to leave. You need to go home.” Because this wasn’t his home, this was just a building she’d trapped him in, and he deserved so much better than some monster who only wanted him around to break her curse.

“What’s gotten into you?” Dion’s thoughts were quickly becoming static stress against Gisu’s head. She wished she could see all of his thoughts, could understand how he felt about this—no, that was invasive. Just another way that Gisu messed everything up.

“I’ve had some realizations, that’s all.” Gisu explained. “It’s not fair for you to be stuck here.” Not with her.

Dion frowned. “Gisu, I promised to stay here—”

Gisu grasped his hands in her superiors, her inferior hands still wringing. “But your family—”

Dion’s face fell. He looked away. “It’ll work out. They’re strong.” He murmured. A moment later, he looked back at her, resolve in his eyes. “I’m going to let them know I’m okay, or they’ll give up and move on.”

“But you miss them,” Gisu stressed, “You’re homesick, Dion, don’t try to deny it.” Dion needed to get out of here. It was for the best.

“Of course I’m homesick!” Dion leaned in closer, “But it’s okay, okay? I’m an Aquato. I can make this mansion home.” His eyes closed, and he ran his thumbs over Gisu’s hands.

Gisu pulled her hands away. “No you can’t.” She muttered.

“And why not?” Dion put his hands on his hips, “Why can’t I stay here?” He crossed his arms. “Well?”

“You need to leave.” Gisu repeated. It was for the best. “You should be home, with your family.” She stressed. “Please.”

“What part of ‘I’m okay here’ are you not getting?” Dion grit out. “Gisu, I’m not trapped here. Not with you.”

The words hit Gisu like a hammer. She flinched back, all of her resolve leaving her—

No. No, Dion needed to leave. It was for the best.

“No, you don’t get it!” Gisu grabbed Dion’s shoulders in her superior hands. “You’re not supposed to be here, Dion, you’re not supposed to be trapped in his hellhole with me.” She stared him down, all but begging him to just give up, “You could have left at any point. You should have left at any point.” He shouldn’t be here, stuck in this decaying mansion with her. It was for the best for him to leave. It was for the best.

Dion grasped her inferior hands in his. “But your curse—”

“Enough about the curse!” Gisu shouted. Like it would ever break, anyway. “You couldn’t break it even if you tried.” Wait, no, that wasn’t what she meant to say—

Dion’s eyes widened. “Then what was the point of me staying here?” He asked, his voice starting to rise in pitch. “What, are you not actually cursed and you’ve just been lying this whole time?”

“Maybe I have!” Gisu tore her hands away from his, throwing all four of them into the air. “It doesn’t matter!” Yes, good, she needed him to get angry, needed him to leave before she broke something she couldn’t fix. She loomed over him, straightening her forelegs to get as much height as she could—they were about eye-level, now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shoved out at him with her superior arms. “Leave.”

Dion stumbled back several steps. “Gisu?” He sounded so small.

“You heard me.” Gisu growled. “Get out.” It was for the best. It was for the best to let Dion go.

“What is wrong with you?!” Dion shouted. “First you’re all over me and now you’re telling me to leave?” At once, his anger fell, worry filling his features. “Mio cara, what’s going on?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Gisu’s anger hit a fever pitch. She shoved, knocking Dion bodily to the floor and following him down. “You idiot.” She growled, her voice threatening to crack. Her eyes stung. She planted her superior hands to the sides of Dion’s head. “You shouldn’t BE HERE!” It was for the best.

Dion stared up at her with wide eyes. His chest heaved.

Gisu leaned in closer, all of her thoughts falling away. “I could crush your head.” She growled, “Right between my mandibles.” She grabbed his jaw with one of her inferior hands, holding it harshly. “I could bite you and you’d die from the venom in my fangs.” She tightened her grip, drawing a small gasp from Dion. “I could kill you. You shouldn’t be here.” She let go of Dion’s jaw. His head fell back to the floor, and his eyes slipped shut as he wheezed a shuddered exhale.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Gisu asked, her anger pounding in her skull. “Of course it does—I’m a monster.” She grinned, anger baring her teeth. “So leave.”

Dion stared up at her, his eyes wide.

“Run away.” Gisu snarled, still looming over Dion. “Run away to your real family and let them make it all better for you.” She leaned in closer—

The room spun as Dion’s fist slammed into her face, forcing her up and backwards. Dion scrambled out from under Gisu as she held her head in her hands, stars dancing across her vision.

She looked up at him. Dion had a hand held over his mouth, absolute horror in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I didn’t mean—”

Gisu growled. “Get out.”

Dion wasted no more time arguing with her.

His footsteps faded out down the hallway, on and on until Gisu couldn’t hear them, couldn’t feel the vibrations in her legs.

She exhaled shakily, and stood.

The room was so quiet, now.

Still, Gisu reminded herself as she made her way to the door, it was for the best.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

+=+=+=+=+

Gisu grunted, driving her screwdriver into the head of the screw. Taking things apart and putting them back together was supposed to be therapeutic. And it was, but—

Gisu growled, burying those thoughts. It was her fault, anyway—she was the one who went and got attached to something she could never have.

“Uh, hey, Gisu?” The radio next to her workstation crackled to life, Morris’ voice coming in steady. “Why did Dion just climb over the wall?”

Gisu regarded the radio for a moment, before returning to the broken clock in her hands. “He left.” She said.

The radio was silent for a moment.

“Wh—why?” Morris asked. “I thought he was all over you?”

“He got homesick.” Gisu explained, “So he left.” It was for the best, anyway. Dion deserved so much better than a monster.

“Okay, no way.” The radio crackled. “I know what it sounds like when you’re hiding something.” Morris accused, “So spill.”

“I made him leave, is that what you wanted?” Gisu threw one of her superior hands out as she spoke. “He was better off back with his family, anyway!”

There was silence for a moment. Then—

“Gisu.” Morris’ voice was edged with incredulity. “What the fuck.”

Gisu grumbled. “It’s over.” She muttered. “He’s gone.”

“No, genuinely,” Morris continued, like Gisu hadn’t spoken at all, “What is wrong with you?”

Gisu froze. “What are you talking about?” She’d fixed the problem. It was for the best.

“I’m talking about the fact that you chased away the one good chance of breaking the curse because what, you were too afraid to confront your own feelings?” Morris’ voice crackled with static, like nails against the chalkboard of Gisu’s ears. “Oh, sure,” He went on, “You’ll read all your romance novels, write all your silly self-insert fanfiction, but the moment you find yourself caring about something that isn’t mechanical you get too scared to do anything but shove it all away.”

Gisu snarled. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dion’s family was important to him, it wasn’t fair to keep him here—

“Ha!” Morris snorted. “Please! You barely even care about the rest of us!” He accused, the dials on the radio darting back and forth. “I bet the only reason you care about me is because you can just pretend I’m another one of your stupid machines!”

Gisu gasped. “I care!”

“Really?” Even without a body, Morris’ agitation came through loud and clear. “Because I’m pretty sure chasing away the one solid chance for me to get my body back is the opposite of caring!” The radio made a slamming noise, then a string of honks and whistles—Morris was getting really worked up, now.

“We’re all cursed!” Gisu slammed her inferior hands on the table. She crossed her superior arms, giving up on the broken clock laid out before her. “Stop making this about yourself!”

Morris’ voice was incredulous. “I’m the one making this about myself? Have you looked in a mirror?” He huffed, “Of course you haven’t.” He muttered. “Because then maybe Lizzie could knock some sense into you.”

“I’m not the one who needs sense knocked into them.” Gisu shot back. “I keep this mansion running, you know!” She started counting on her fingers. “I keep the lights powered, I keep the heaters from falling apart—I’m the one who makes sure all these radios actually work!” Yeah, Adam and Sam handled the firewood and keeping the mirrors clean, but still. Without Gisu, there’d be nobody to power and fix the radios.

“That doesn’t mean you get to chase away the one chance we had of getting uncursed, Gis!” Morris yelled back. “You don’t get to make that decision for us!”

“Oh, like there won’t be other chances.” Gisu snarled through gritted teeth. “You don’t need to be so impatient.”

Morris sighed. “I want my body back, Gisu.” His voice was heavy with grief. “I want to be able to see colors again, and not just my own noise reflected back at me.” The radio clattered. “But you don’t get that, do you? You still have your body.” He laughed hollowly. “Your curse is that you’re ugly.” Morris remarked, “And the guy you liked didn’t even care about that.” The radio went silent, then, leaving Morris’ remark to hang in the air like smoke.

Gisu yelled, sweeping the radio off of its stand. It fell to the floor with a clatter, but remained silent.

Gisu stared at it, her chest heaving. Her throat got tight, all four of her eyes started to sting—

Fuck. As much as she wanted to deny it, Morris was right. She’d messed up. She’d messed everything up.

Gisu let herself fall to the floor, arms curling around herself. “Fuck.” She sobbed.

She’d fucked up. But it was too late, now—Dion had already crossed the outer walls. There was nothing Gisu could do to fix the mess she made.

She laughed darkly. “At least I can’t fuck it up worse.” Doing so would be hard—even for her.

That fact wasn’t a comfort.

[astrxealis]

i will ignore ffvii until i play rebirth myself bcs just looking at art makes me want to cry (good) already

[beliscary]

when u see me constantly drawing terence's hair messy just so i can hit it with the prince phillipification beam. no you didnt