#the puppet-like dancing is also clever

[jules-writes-stories]

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 21 on AO3

“Why did you ask for Nesta’s hand in the Hewn City that night? Even knowing you were mated to Azriel?” Cassian asked the question with open curiosity, but underneath was the inevitable edge of possession that came with any mating bond. 

Eris sighed, wondering how honest he should be with the Night Court general. They were allies, yet he could not leave and was accused of possibly breaking their laws. 

So, the viper chose what he knew best: half-truths. “I simply did what Rhysand expected of me. And I wanted this alliance.” 

The heir continued, “I considered my options. I need an ally for when I ascend to High Lord. Nesta is powerful, beautiful, and clever. She can play the game. And your High Lord and brother offered her to me on a silver platter. Meanwhile, my mating bond is not…” Eris swallowed and turned to glance out the window again, “is not feasible.” 

“That’s so cold, so calculated.” Cassian shook his head. 

Eris saw the judgment in Cassian's eyes and felt a familiar flicker of flames itching at his palms. He banked it. What this male did not know, the truth that the fireling buried, was that he had felt utterly rejected. He’d grown tired of being Azriel’s dirty secret, a mate that this family would revile, one to elicit pity from the Shadowsinger’s friends. And in a moment of loneliness, of scheming, Eris had wondered if there could be a genuine camaraderie between himself and Nesta Archeron, a chance at true companionship between equals.

“Perhaps general. But no more so than your best friend and brother using your mate as a cheap enticement. At least my proposal was in earnest. I offered Nesta a position of honor, power, and protection. Rhysand waggled her before me like a piece of meat, only to pull her away.” Autumn’s prince watched as his words sank in and struck something raw. He had no desire to come between the Illyrian brothers, nor sow discord within their Inner Circle, but he was tired of being the Night Court's villain and puppet. 

“Besides,” Eris sauntered over and sat across from Cassian. He lounged in a way that made his lithe body appear predatory, ready to pounce, and murmured, “The joke is on all of you. I’m not even attracted to females. The marriage would have been in name only.” 

The fireling looked straight at the Night Court general and sighed. “I also had no idea you were interested in her like that. At least, not until you made it very known with your grunting and your stink.” 

Cassian ground his teeth, ready to interject, when Eris conceded, “And I was distracted as well.” 

The Autumn male smiled earnestly at the memory of Cassian, feral with jealousy in the early throes of a mating bond, stalking them all over the dance floor. How uncharacteristically oblivious Eris was initially due to his own Illyrian mate, whose eyes he kept trying to meet. What a disaster that night had been.  

Cassian must have relived similar memories as he shook his head and chuckled. “Nes still refers to you as her best dance partner, but claims she could smell Azriel all over you and knew you were mates.” The Illyrian laughed then, a loud, raucous sound, at Eris’s face. 

The Autumn male’s skin had flushed at the memory of the Shadowsinger, pushing him into an alcove of the Hewn City just an hour before the Solstice Ball, how he had roughly handled Eris, and how Eris had pulled and scratched and bit him back. They rarely spoke each other’s names in the first years of the bond. Brat, brute, Shadowsinger, fireling…

They'd fucked fast and hard, and usually from behind, in dark corners of the world. It had been a heartbreaking pleasure.

And so different from their recent times together— tasting each other’s lips, watching pleasure unfold in the other’s face, whispering words of praise and affection. This softness between them was so new, so fragile, and now at risk. 

“Azriel believes you.” Cassian’s voice was clear and somber, bringing Eris away from his thoughts.

@the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @c-starstuff-man0 @chunkypossum @futurehunt @talibunny30 @molcat07 @seihdacalling @mistandmemories @unanswered-stars @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @going-through-shit @yanny-77 @lilah-asteria

[bedtime-broadcast]

📝 FAQ for “Bedtime Broadcast” with Alastor & Calliope

Is Calliope really your biological daughter? How did that even happen?

Alastor: Why yes, she most certainly is! A rather miraculous occurrence, if you must know. As for the sordid details of her conception—well, I assure you it is quite the scandalous mystery, even to me. Some things are best left deliciously unexplained, don't you think?

Why does Calliope look so much like the royal family?

Alastor: Ah, you people do love your conspiracies! Simply put: it’s a coincidence. Genetics and magic can be funny that way. Rest assured, there’s no royal cradle involved here beyond my own tender care.

What’s Calliope like? Does she have your personality?

Alastor: She is a radiant little spark—curious, clever, and oh-so mischievous. While I see glimmers of my charm in her, she has a sweetness all her own that this world sorely needs. And between us… she may yet prove more dangerous than her dear old Baba if left unchecked!

Will you ever have more children?

Alastor: No. Calliope is my one and only. A perfect, miraculous fluke that I cherish. I’ve no desire to tempt fate a second time—and she quite fills up my heart and hands as it is.

What kind of things do you and Calliope do together?

Alastor: Why, all sorts of delightful activities! We forage in the bayou, practice dancing to my broadcasts, tell playfully dreadful stories, and have roach puppet theater courtesy of Niffty.

How does it feel to be a father in Hell of all places?

Alastor: In truth? Terrifying… and also the grandest joy I’ve ever known. Raising a child here means sharpening your claws while teaching them to grow flowers. It’s a delicate balance, but I wouldn't trade it for all the broadcasts in eternity.

Does Calliope have any powers like yours?

Alastor: Indeed! She’s begun to show hints of shadow and voodoo magic—levitating objects with a twitch of her nose and even shifting her form slightly. I’m so proud I could burst… or broadcast it to all of Hell!

What's one piece of advice you’d give her for the future?

Alastor: Just because you see a smile don't think you know what's going on underneath. You should always wear your smile proudly, even when you may not want to. After all, you’re never fully dressed with a smile.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

 62.5 Part 4: Ichiji and Pudding 

A/N:  And we are back at it again with another part, the next part will be the last part until we hit wano. Will I be posting two more chapters in Wano, of course! so we getting a total of 4 new chapters! I'll also be working on fixing the master list, but now lets dive right in. As we have both Pudding POV.. and Ichiji POV.. and when I tell you the shift is shifting... Thank you for all the likes and shares! and follows! and without further ado, let the adventure begin!!!

Pudding POV… 

A few days passed…

A few days had passed since that breakfast at the chateau. Since Y/N sat at that table, calm as ever, toying with flame like it was her pet. Since I saw Sanji look at her like no man should ever look at another woman — not when I was the bride-to-be.

I stood before the great snail screen in Mama’s chamber, the Den Den Mushi’s eyes blinking as Mama’s real voice echoed behind it, full of weight, authority, and madness.

“Is the plan going accordingly, Pudding?” Her voice crooned sweet as molasses but sharp as a dagger.

“Yes, Mama,” I replied, forcing my smile to match her tone. “Y/N saw both Sanji and I in the act, and we’re moving forward with the wedding. “And also since I saw y/ns memory on how she and Sanji also were intimate… I thought.  She marries first, and then it’s Sanji and me. Her crew — Straw Hat and that little cat burglar — they know the truth now too: once the ceremony starts, the entire Vinsmoke line along with Y/N will be eliminated.”

I paused. The screen shifted. There she was.

Big Mom, holding Brook in her massive, gloved hand like a child’s toy. His body was limp, beaten, shattered. His soul, barely clinging.

“Another one for your collection,” I added with a bitter curl of my lips.

“By the way,” I continued, “I erased the princess’s memory. She doesn’t remember me shooting her… or Reiju either. Both are in the infirmary, stable, and the Vinsmoke men are with the barmaids. Sanji’s locked himself in his room. Everything is still in place.”

Mama’s grin widened grotesquely. “Mamamama! That’s my clever daughter!” Her voice dropped, eyes narrowing. “But… you didn’t injure Y/N too much, did you? Or Reiju? We need them alive until the wedding.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing back the growing annoyance in my gut.

“No, Mama,” I said tightly. “I hit Y/N in the back of the head with the handle of my gun. She’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about… but honestly, what’s so special about her?”

Mama’s eyes gleamed like moonlight on sharpened steel.

“Her technology, Pudding. Her rings, her weapons — you’ve seen them, haven’t you?” “That sword of hers — missing.” “Those two hidden blades — vanished.” She leaned forward, eyes alight. “They hold power that rejects any hand but hers. We’ve already seen it. Anyone who even touches them burns or gets shocked. But with her power… combined with Germa's science… we will be unstoppable.”

She threw her head back in a thunderous laugh. The walls shook. Brook trembled in her grip.

“And besides,” she added coldly, “once they’re all dead, they’re of no use to us anyway.”

Then she grinned again — this time with wicked glee.

“I did, however, invite someone very special to Y/N’s wedding.”

My brow furrowed. “Who?”

“His mother and I go way back,” Mama chuckled darkly. “Though she did injure me a number of times… back when I was still building my collection. He’ll come for her. I’m sure of it. You may know him by another name…” She leaned in, voice lowering to a hiss. “King.”

I blinked. “…Who?”

Her expression darkened.

“None of your concern, dear.” She waved her hand. “Just be a good little doll and do your part.”

That word again.

Doll.

Porcelain. Replaceable. Pretty, but fragile. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Mama… I’m not a doll…” I whispered — too soft for her to care.

But the ache in my chest didn’t lie. I was being used. A puppet dancing to her strings. And yet… I smiled on the outside. I laughed when she needed me to. I cried when it suited the script. Still played the part.

Because I had to.

Tomorrow was the wedding — our wedding — mine and Sanji’s. And hers too. Y/N. The final act of this grand performance before the stage was washed in blood.

I sat on the edge of my bed, hands clutching the fabric of the dress Mama had picked. Not the one I wanted. Not the soft cocoa-colored gown with lace I had dreamed of since I was small.

Instead, this… was what I would wear.

White. Puffy. Innocent. The skirt flared out like a bell, soft and airy, brushing against the floor like clouds. Circle sleeves puffed at my shoulders, delicate and round, making me look like some glass figurine. Pink flowers were stitched delicately along the train, and a wide ribbon, soft as silk, tied around the waist in a large, pristine bow.

It was beautiful. It was fragile. It was mockery.

A lie, dressed in sugar.

I looked like a doll — exactly what Mama wanted.

“She’ll look like the sweet little bride,” she said with a grin. “And when the blade drops, all the guests will scream.”

The image made me sick.

Even now, I could hear the maids in the hallway, giggling as they whispered about Y/N’s condition. About the rings they had to remove from her fingers because they kept burning anyone who touched them. About how Reiju groaned in her sleep.

About how Mama held Brook in her arms like another trophy.

And still… despite everything… He cared.

Sanji. I saw it in his eyes at breakfast. The way he looked at her. The way he always looked at her.

Even when she was quiet. Even when she said nothing. Even when I was the one speaking, laughing, trying, pretending.

He saw her.

And tomorrow… I’d walk down the aisle in this white dress, smiling like the good little bride I was told to be.

But would he be smiling back? Or would he be watching her?

I brushed my hand over the soft fabric of the pink bow. I tried to picture Sanji reaching for me, holding my hand as we said our vows.

But all I could see…

Was him staring past me.

At her.

And suddenly, the white dress didn’t feel so pure anymore.

It felt like a lie I couldn’t wash off.

Ichiji POV…

"You idiots really had to ruin everything — especially you, Yonji," I snapped, slamming the door behind me as I entered the guest room.

"Lighten up. It’s your bachelor party," Yonji said with that same brainless grin he always wore when drinks were involved.

I brushed past him, ignoring the barmaids handing us wine. I took a glass out of obligation, not interest. "I would much rather be with my fiancée," I muttered, eyes narrowed.

Across the room, Niji chuckled as he tossed back his drink. Father stood near the window, arms folded, stoic as ever.

The conversation drifted between wedding logistics and battle plans until I heard her name — Y/N.

"So where would Ichiji and Y/N live after the ceremony?" Yonji asked, raising an eyebrow like it was a joke.

I didn’t miss the smugness in his tone.

"We’ll be living on my side of the Germa Kingdom," I said evenly, swirling the wine in my glass. "She’s not some common bride. She’ll be treated like royalty."

Niji let out a short laugh. "If she doesn’t run a blade through your chest first."

"Shut up," I snapped.

Then Father spoke — the room going still for a moment as his low voice cut through the air.

"That woman… she defeated me. In sword combat."

I turned to him. That wasn’t something he admitted lightly. Or ever.

"There was someone before her — a woman like that," he added, voice low and reflective. "The same fire. Same eyes. Same refusal to bow."

He didn’t need to say it for me to know what he meant. I’d heard whispers growing up. A woman who once wounded Judge Vinsmoke so deeply, he never spoke of her again.

I stepped closer. "Father, what’s the deal? Why do you look at her like you’ve seen a ghost?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Then he spoke — but not to me. More to himself.

"She reminded me of the one woman I could never control. The one who defied everything I built… and vanished."

I blinked. "You think Y/N is—"

"I don’t know," Father said firmly, swirling his glass thoughtfully.

As we continued to drink, the barmaids began to get tipsy, giggling and stumbling slightly, but the three of us held our liquor well. The mood was heavy, but that changed abruptly when a soft knock echoed through the room.

"Well, if it isn’t dear old sister-in-law," Yonji smirked, standing and sauntering toward the door.

"I’m here to see my fiancé," Y/N said coolly from the threshold, her voice steady.

Yonji took a long drink right in front of her, then leaned back with a sly grin. "I did say I’d see him, since you know, we were interrupted from what we were about to partake," he teased, stepping aside to let her in.

My breath hitched.

She was stunning—heels clicking on the floor, a beige coat draped over her slender frame, red lipstick bold against her skin. In one hand, she held a bottle of champagne and two flute glasses.

“I see my fiancé is entertaining other women. Should I be concerned?” Y/N’s gaze locked onto me like a blade.

Without a word, I pushed the barmaid aside and stepped closer.

“Not at all,” I said, voice low and firm. “This isn’t the time for distractions.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement—and something darker, sharper—danger.

“If my fiancé doesn’t want to partake,” she said smoothly, “I guess I’ll just be returning to my room.”

Before she could move, I gripped her wrist quickly. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Her breath caught. Then, in a low whisper, she met my eyes and said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why don’t we take this matter to a more private setting?” Y/N said, voice like silk and sin. “Why don’t you show me that lesson you had in store for me?”

Fuck the liquor. I thought, heartbeat kicking up.

“You might not be able to handle it,” I warned, stepping closer, my voice low.

“Try me.” She met my eyes without a hint of hesitation.

Fuck...

“Why don’t we continue this in your room,” she said, lips curling into a wicked smirk, “and celebrate our union a day early?”

“Damn, it’s getting hot in here,” Niji muttered with a half-laugh, unbothered by the rising tension.

“Better lock the door, Ichiji,” Yonji added with a sly grin. “Wouldn’t want me to crash the party.”

I shot both of them a deadly glare, my hand still wrapped around Y/N’s wrist as I pulled her gently toward me.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I murmured, barely containing the rough edge in my voice.

“But I do,” she replied, her voice a challenge wrapped in velvet. “The question is—can you deliver?”

“I can be quite restless, Princess,” I said, my voice low, a dark promise threaded through every word. “I’ll have you gasping… begging for more.”

Her lips parted slightly, her gaze unwavering. “Then show me rather than tell me,” Y/N whispered, stepping closer. “I want you—in all the ways a man like you wants a woman like me.”

That was it. My restraint shattered like glass.

Without another word, I caught her hand in mine, the champagne bottle clinking softly against her hip as I led her through the hallway. My strides were long, purposeful, and she followed without hesitation—heels clicking, tension building between every step.

“Let’s go to my room,” I said roughly, pushing the door open and letting her in before slamming it shut behind us.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in bed while I open this for us,” Y/N said, her tone calm, almost playful, as she cradled the champagne bottle with ease.

I nodded wordlessly, moving toward the bed. The air was heavy with something I couldn’t name. Anticipation? Hunger? Maybe both. I stripped down without shame—shirt, pants—leaving only my pride and heat behind as I settled into the bed, muscles taut, eyes following her every movement.

She approached with grace, handing me the bottle and a glass with a sly smile.

“Cheers to a memorable night,” she said, clinking her glass lightly against mine.

I downed the champagne in one long swallow, never taking my eyes off her. The glass shattered against the wall as I tossed it aside, uncaring.

Then—her coat dropped.

Black lace.

Sheer, intricate, wrapping around her curves like it was designed for destruction.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, the words dragging from my throat.

“Black lace,” I said again, breathless, sitting up.

“I thought it would fit the theme…” Y/N murmured, stepping closer, her lips curling into something both daring and dangerous.

“I thought it would fit the theme…” Y/N murmured, stepping closer, her voice like silk laced with steel. Her lips curled, not into a smile, but something deeper—something primal.

This was it.

All the fire, the fights, the looks she gave me from across rooms—all leading to this moment. Every ounce of resistance she’d thrown my way suddenly made sense. It was never about pushing me away. It was about testing how far I was willing to go to have her.

Now, she was here. Willing. Beautiful. Dangerous.

My fingers trailed along her arm, slow and purposeful, and then I eased her down onto the bed. The satin sheets barely dared to rustle beneath her.

“Tell me what you want,” I said, voice low and strained as I looked down at her.

She looked back with unwavering eyes. “I want you,” she whispered, voice laced with breathless heat.

But before I could move, something flickered.

My vision—blurring at the edges.

What the hell?

A rush of dizziness hit me hard and fast. The warmth in my limbs gave way to something else—cold, numb, wrong.

“The fuck…” I muttered again, dragging a hand through my hair as my vision wavered. Minutes passed, and Y/N continued to tease—every slow movement, every glance, purposeful. She knew exactly what she was doing, and normally, I’d be the one in control. But something felt off.

My hands, usually steady, felt heavy. My breath… slower than it should’ve been.

Could it be the drinks I had earlier? Or—my gaze snapped toward the champagne bottle.

“Ichiji, are you alright?” Her voice was smooth, laced with concern—too smooth.

“I’m fine… just…” I blinked, swaying slightly as I sat at the edge of the bed. “A bit tired…”

Her expression didn’t change. Still beautiful. Still composed. But I caught it this time—a glint in her eye. Almost… victorious?

My head fell back against the pillow.

The room began to blur.

Her silhouette stood above me, haloed by soft light. After what felt like hours, I finally woke up, groaning as a sharp pulse throbbed through my head. “Ughh... my head.” I muttered, eyes fluttering open.

The room was quiet, dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the curtains. My gaze landed on Y/N, peacefully sleeping next to me—her black lace still clinging to her skin, the soft rise and fall of her chest a stark contrast to the storm inside my mind.

Then she stirred, blinking sleepily before turning to face me. Her voice was calm, almost teasing. “We were going to consummate our marriage a day early, but you fell asleep,” she said lightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I guess your brothers gave you too much to drink.”

I swallowed hard, the fog in my mind thickening. Something wasn’t right.

But for now, all I could do was stare at her—wondering just how much I’d really lost control last night.

Just then, a sharp knock came at the door. “Ichiji, Princess, wake up! We have two weddings to get ready!” Yonji called from outside, his voice loud and insistent.

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. “Leave!” I growled, not ready to face the world just yet.

“Come on, you can’t hog your soon-to-be wife forever! You’re going to marry her!” Yonji teased with a grin.

From beside me, Y/N laughed softly. “Well, it looks like we have to get ready,” she said, sliding off the bed. She grabbed her clothes and walked out of the room with a confident stride.

I sat up, half-dazed. “Wait a—” I started, but Yonji interrupted with a sly smirk.

“Must have been one hell of a night,” he said, shaking his head. “You still remember the plan, right?”

His words hung in the air, sharp and heavy, reminding me of the dark game we were all caught in.

“The priest—he’s a friend of Father’s, right?” I asked, standing still as a servant straightened my tie.

“Ohh, yeah,” Yonji said with a grin, lounging nearby like this was some casual dinner instead of a political trap. “And regardless if someone were to object… she’s still trapped.” He chuckled darkly.

I gave him a sidelong glance, jaw tightening.

“My greatest son… Ichiji, my firstborn… getting married.” Father’s voice entered the room like a shadow, his presence commanding even without effort. He adjusted his own tie in the mirror, then turned toward me with pride steeped in ambition. “And just think, all that power—ours for the taking.”

I didn’t respond immediately, eyes flickering down to the cue card I kept folded in my breast pocket—the lines I was to speak at the grand entrance. “At least let me memorize my lines. I can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s face. I know the News Coo will be there, too.”

“Make it count,” Yonji smirked.

I read the bold words again—the “point of no return,” carefully rehearsed and perfectly planned. No mistakes. No emotion. Just control.

“Once this wedding is over,” I said, voice low, “we’ll have enough time to consummate the marriage… and then it’s that failure’s wedding.”

Sanji.

“Remember,” Father added coldly, “she’s more of a wild card, Ichiji. Watch her. She’s smart… too smart. Don’t underestimate her.”

I clenched my fists briefly, then relaxed them just as quickly.

“I never do.”

As the wedding began, everything unfolded like a meticulously rehearsed opera. I delivered my part flawlessly—every note strong, every step calculated. But the moment Y/N stepped into the room, her voice soft and haunting, something in me… shifted.

The light from the stained-glass windows poured over her like a divine spotlight. Her gown flowed behind her, veil slightly lifting with each graceful step. But it wasn’t just the visuals—it was her voice. Poised, powerful, unwavering.

And for a moment—just a moment—I didn’t give a damn about Father’s ambitions, our alliance, or the plan.

“What is this feeling?” I thought, stunned, my breath caught in my chest.

Yonji clapped a hand on my back, whispering something cocky as the best man, but I barely heard it. Because I was already too far gone. Too drawn to her. Too past the point of no return.

Then it happened.

Her bouquet caught fire—white flames engulfing the silk and flowers in an unnatural blaze. The audience gasped. I moved on instinct as her veil was yanked from her head, dropping to the floor in silence.

“The hell is she doing?” I muttered, watching her stand still, fearless amid the fire. The crowd was frozen. Eyes wide. Yet she—she stared out into the crowd… and her gaze landed on someone.

One man.

My jaw clenched. “Now… who the hell is he?” I thought, a flash of unwelcome jealousy flaring in my gut. But it didn’t matter. Not now.

That was my cue.

The wall of fire roared to life between her and the audience, casting golden-orange hues across the marble aisle. I stepped through it, flames licking my heels but never touching me. The crowd cheered in awe, captivated. And when I reached her, I didn’t hesitate—I sealed the final act with a kiss.

A kiss that wasn’t in the script.

The world blurred, sound muffled, except for the final note she sang as I brought her to the altar.

“I’m past the point of no… re…turn.”

She changed the lyrics.

She changed them on purpose.

I stared at her, feeling something deeper than pride or triumph. The priest, an old family ally, began his rehearsed monologue. It was time.

Time for the vows.

I glanced at her again—still so composed, still so unreadable.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling… that I was the one being played.

And yet, I didn’t care.

Because if this was the point of no return— I had no intention of turning back.

Though Y/N hesitated when asked the traditional questions, I chalked it up to nerves—or defiance. Either way, the priest was nearing the final line. All I had to do was hold on until he said it:

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

But then—

"Is there anyone here who objects to this union?" the priest asked.

A silence.

A beat.

And then—

“I object,” a voice rang out, bold and clear from the crowd.

My head snapped up, fury flaring behind my eyes. "Who the hell…?" I scanned the guests, eyes narrowing on the man stepping forward with defiance etched into every stride.

“What is the meaning of this?” I barked, voice echoing through the cathedral. “I would like to get back to my wife now!”

Gasps rippled through the audience. Tension mounted like a rising crescendo.

The priest paused—but only briefly. "Since no one stepped forward to formally object," he said calmly, “the wedding continues.”

A smug smirk tugged at my lips as I turned to Y/N. “What’s wrong?” I asked with mock innocence. “You didn’t think I’d make this easy, did you?”

Her eyes widened, realization dawning. I let the objection be heard. But not counted.

The priest was under Father's influence. A trusted pawn. No interruption—no matter how loud—was going to derail this ceremony.

“You played him…” she whispered, eyes darting back toward the man who dared speak up.

“I played everyone, darling,” I said, lowering my voice as I took her hand again. “But especially you.”

The wheels were turning in her head now. She was cornered—trapped in a game that had no exit. The audience was still watching, stunned by the drama, hanging on every move we made.

The priest resumed the ceremony.

Soon, the words echoed through the grand cathedral like a tolling bell sealing fate:

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I didn’t hesitate—I grabbed her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her with a mix of triumph and possession. She didn’t resist, but I could feel it—she wasn’t fully present. Her lips were still, her hands uncertain.

Still, the crowd erupted into applause. Yonji and Niji swaggered up with their usual flair.

"Look at you, big brother," Niji grinned, clapping me on the back. "Finally tied the knot."

"She's yours now," Yonji added with a wink. "Nice work sealing the deal."

But Y/N’s eyes weren’t on me.

They were scanning the crowd.

Then she saw him.

That man.

And before I could stop her—before I could register it—she ran. Her heels clicking against marble, the crowd parting in confusion.

She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly like she'd just found a lifeline.

My hands clenched into fists.

"Now who the fuck is he?!" I thought, my blood boiling.

That embrace wasn’t casual.

It was familiar. Intimate.

She held him like someone she trusted. Someone she might've loved.

The crowd began murmuring, unsure if this was part of the show or the start of a scandal.

Yonji leaned in with a low whistle. “Well… that’s not exactly a traditional wedding reception.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, eyes locked on the pair.

As I stepped closer, I caught just enough of their whispered exchange to light a fresh flame of suspicion in my chest.

"You know what must be done next," he said quietly.

Y/N shook her head, visibly torn.

"I can’t…" she whispered, voice trembling.

"Don’t worry..." he reassured her.

I’d heard enough.

“Darling, we have to get ready for the second wedding of the evening,” I cut in, my voice calm—but laced with an edge of warning. My hand slid possessively to the small of her back. I didn’t care who he was. He needed to understand one thing: she’s mine now. By name. By law. By fire and vow.

The man met my eyes with unsettling calm, as if he wasn’t at all threatened by the storm I was holding back.

With a bow that felt more like a challenge than respect, he murmured,

“I’ll see you at the other wedding, Princess.”

Then he turned and walked out, completely unfazed.

Y/N nodded faintly, but her eyes didn’t follow him.

No—they locked with mine.

And though her body stood beside me, the defiance in those eyes said one thing loud and clear: She hadn’t surrendered.

Not fully.

Not yet.

As we headed to our shared room in the château—a provision, if you could call it—I ensured everything was exactly as it should be. The atmosphere was set: dim lighting, whiskey on the rocks, chilled champagne, fresh roses scattered across the bed, and a carefully chosen wardrobe for the second wedding ceremony. Everything had to be perfect. Ours.

I loosened my collar, letting out a breath as I stepped inside behind her.

“We’re finally alone, Princess,” I said, slipping off my jacket and beginning to undo my tie, eyes locked on her figure.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, gaze unreadable.

“You can stop pretending,” I said, walking toward her slowly. “Because we both know what comes next.”

“I’m not pretending,” she replied, voice cool, but unwavering.

“You’re right,” she continued, her voice steady. “I’m done pretending... with you.”

The words hit harder than I expected. Before I could respond, there was a loud knock at the door. My jaw tensed.

“Who dares interrupt?!” I snapped, just as I was leaning down to kiss her again—possessively, claiming what was mine. She didn’t pull away. She kissed back. Finally.

Finally, I thought, hungry for more.

But the moment shattered as Niji’s voice rang from the other side of the door.

“It’s Father. He says it’s urgent.”

I froze, hovering over Y/N’s body.

“What could be more important than this?” I muttered bitterly, casting a glance down at her. Her eyes still burned with that same dangerous spark—defiance, laced with something deeper.

I didn’t care. She could glare at me all she wanted. Fight me, curse me, resist me. But she was mine now.

And everyone—including Niji—would just have to live with that.

But Niji wasn’t relenting.

“Father isn’t asking,” he said flatly. “He’s demanding.”

I clenched my teeth, the heat in my chest flaring in frustration. Of course he is.

I turned to look at Y/N one last time, and something in me faltered. Just for a moment. A flash of softness cracked through my hardened facade—but only for a heartbeat. I wouldn’t let her see any more than that.

“Fine,” I growled, stepping back reluctantly. “But this isn’t over, Princess,” I said lowly, letting my words linger like smoke in the air.

As I stormed past Niji, I didn’t hold back my irritation.

“This better be worth the interruption,” I hissed, voice sharp and venomous.

But even as I walked away, my thoughts weren’t on Father.

They were still in that room.

Still with her.

And the fire burning between us?

It wasn’t close to being extinguished.

“This better be good, Father,” I growled, storming into the room.

“Shut the door,” Judge said without even turning to look at me.

I slammed it hard enough to rattle the frame. “I’m supposed to be getting ready for my failure of a brother’s wedding. I’m supposed to be with my wife. What could possibly be so important that you felt the need to pull me away at the worst possible time?”

Father finally turned to face me, eyes serious. “Do you know the man your wife hugged?”

I narrowed my eyes, scoffing. “No. Why?”

“That man... is King.” Father’s tone dropped lower, calculating. “What’s strange is that when I last saw him, he was only a child. Now he’s the ruler of that isolated, all-male island in the West Blue...”

My stare hardened, but he wasn’t finished.

“He accelerated his age somehow. And more importantly... he’s the Red Warrior’s son.”

I blinked, then clenched my fists.

“I don’t care who that man is,” I spat, my voice rising. “You dragged me from a moment I was about to share with my wife—a crucial moment—just to talk about some bastard from her past?”

Father’s eyes narrowed. “You should care.”

“I don’t!” I snapped, slamming my hand down on the table between us. “You want to talk about strategy? Timing? Power? I had it all under control. She kissed me back. That moment was ours. And you ruined it!”

I was seething, breathing hard. My blood pounded in my ears.

“Don’t mistake a kiss for victory,” Father said coldly. “Not when the past is still in the room with her... and very much alive.”

I turned away, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

“She’s mine now,” I said through gritted teeth. “And anyone who thinks they can take her from me—king or not—is going to learn just how far I’ll go to keep what’s mine.”

Father chuckled darkly, the sound void of humor. “That possessiveness… it’s not love, Ichiji. It’s fear. And fear makes men reckless.”

“I’m not afraid,” I growled, spinning back to face him.

“No?” he stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Then prove it. Because if you don’t keep her in check—if you don’t remind her who holds the leash—she’ll destroy everything we’ve built.”

I met his stare, defiant.

“She’s not a weapon to control. Not like the rest of your pawns,” I snapped.

Father’s expression shifted—only slightly—but enough to show I’d struck a nerve.

“You’d better remember your place, Ichiji. Don’t forget who gave you your power. Or how easily I could take it away.”

The room crackled with silence, tension thick between us.

Finally, I exhaled slowly, straightening my tie with deliberate calm. “Then let me handle it my way.”

He studied me for a long moment, then gave a single nod. “You have until tomorrow. After that, if she isn’t fully ours—body and will—I’ll deal with her myself.”

I didn’t reply.

Because I knew if it came to that… not even Father would be able to stop me.

.

.

.

[frogwiththephatahh]

Ranking All Act 1 Songs in Epic: The Musical

Disclaimer: I like all the songs! I just like some more than others. The ones with low rankings are not at all bad! Furthermore this is a personal opinion so please don't be mad at me if we disagree about placing! (also rb with your own rankings I want to compare it'll be fun)

20. There Are other Ways- I just never really got into this one. It didn't stand out to me like the other songs in its saga did. I do love how it shows us just how dedicated Ody is to Penelope, though. It's sort of a light foreshadowing of just what he'll give up for her.

19. Storm- Love singing along with the crew, but it doesn't appeal to me as much as others.

18. Full Speed Ahead- A great introduction to the main crew members, showing their priorities and personalities. But there are better crew songs.

17. Polyphemus- I was holding my breath during this entire song. Great! And that final line at the end makes my heart sink every time. But not as striking as others in Cyclops.

16. Warrior Of The Mind- First heard this song on tiktok, like most people. It's great, but at this point it's overplayed.

15. My Goodbye- A step up from WotM for me. Not much to say about it though.

14. Remember Them- Heartfelt and shows just how clever Odysseus is. Well, up until he doxxed himself.

13. Puppeteer- The beginning cord is so moving. Otherwise it's a great introduction to Circe.

12. Luck Runs Out- The emotion in Armando's performances never ceases to amaze me. Every one of Eurylochus' songs have so much raw emotion poured into them.

11. The Horse And The Infant- An excellent introduction to our starting point. The duet between Zeus and Odysseus at the end is an ear worm.

10. Open Arms- A proper introduction to Polites, and one that made me shudder when The Cave was mentioned. It's such an uplifting song that sets a more hopeful tone, only for it to be ripped away in the next saga.

9. Survive- Impossible not to sing along with. And Polites' rasping "captain...?" as he dies? And Polyphemus twisting Odysseus' words at the end? Literally life changing. People died.

8. Wouldn't You Like- Ngl this one is only this high because Hermes is one of my fav greek gods (and one of my patrons) Also it's so catchy.

7. Done For- So good I started boarding an animation (I haven't animated in ten years)

6. The Underworld- Absolutely the best crew song! I tear up at Anticlea's part every time. Devastating.

5. Keep Your Friends Close- So catchy! I like to drum along to the beat. I wish Aeolus was in more than one song though...her voice is lovely.

4. Ruthlessness- First song I heard from the Ocean saga and what got me into Epic full swing. The animatics people make for this one are insanely good. And as an avid hater of Poseidon, this song made me adore him.

3. Just A Man- It's the song almost everyone knows this musical from because of tiktok. And there's a reason! It's a good ass song. Especially the ending.

2. Monster- Actually shudders! Omg this one is so good. And it's a huge turning point for the entire show. Which makes sense since it's the final song in the first act. The last part ESPECIALLY is an ear worm.

No Longer You- A WALTZ? WITH TIRESIAS? Actually brilliant. I always imagine souls in the underworld dancing around Tiresias and Odysseus to form a wall of blue fire trapping them together. Cannot help but sing along to it. So catchy, so good, so moving.

[hunterssm00n]

Find You

One month after the events of SOTL but before Hannibal (2001): Clarice Starling is an FBI agent on the hunt for one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and she reflects on their strange connection. | Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling |

also on my ao3: here

*cw mild language*

౨ৎ

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

I look for you in the center of the sun / I took a pill but it didn't help me numb / I see your face even when my eyes are shut / But I never really know just where to find you...

"You're dancing circles around me You're fucking crazy Oh oh, you're crazy for me Oh oh, you're crazy for me..." ~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey

X.x

"Starling. Starling. Starling. A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there are different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to cleanse the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just glorified scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - more so in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of To protect and serve. This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

"Sir. Doctor Lecter. So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, clever girl. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? Survival of the fittest? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their 'lil selves on up that laddah."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Starling. Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of humans."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing you, Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his puppet?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would ever come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature all your own."

"So if I am a Starling, sir, what are you?"

"That depends on you, Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The choice is yours."

X.x

"Clarice?"

Her face hurt; felt like it was being mushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

"Clarice,"

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

"Jesus," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look rough," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

"Um," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was never this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"Great," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting her.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to do the same. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep again if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of steel." Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. There is no way... Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofabitch," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was her. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."

~H.L.

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the SOTL/Hannibal franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, or the song ‘Find You’ by Nick Jonas. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.

[redpiperfox]

Skz as Epic Songs with citation evidence because I am a language arts student at heart!

I have been on an Epic Kick which means that I will loop it into my other fandoms, and I was absolutely possessed by the idea of who would kill what characters/songs from Stray Kids.

I went member by member, with one main song, 4 additional songs (all 40 Epic songs are covered between the 8 members, so find your favorite!), and then a little explanation with supporting Stray Kids songs for why I think it fits their voice in particular-- for the skz songs I tried to pick tracks that were either individual/unit/duo, or for full member tracks, this member was specifically highlighted. (Most including links! But uh, there's a 100 link limit per post so some skz songs, especially title songs and more well known full-group songs are not linked lol) I dissect the member voices out into what character and emotion they would really slay, or what bits and pieces remind me of the character/member.

This was so much fun for me to do, and I would love to chat with fans of Epic and Stray Kids about their thoughts and opinions!!

Chan

Bonus: Suffering, There Are Other Ways, Warrior of the Mind, I Can't Help But Wonder,

Alright, HANG ON DON'T COME AT ME, this man was actually the hardest to pick, because in all honestly, I think Chan could single-handedly one-man this whole musical okay? Chan's voice is incredibly versatile, and he tends to favor the villain qualities of it (see Red Lights, Escape, Railway, Circus, Super Bowl, 3racha, Drive). He would make him a very convincingly evil Antinous. At the same time, he has an incredibly melodic tone, and is able to pull a more flirtatous angle (see Connected, I Like It) and emotional one as well, that dances into the lullaby, longing in hopefulness (see i hate to admit, Cover Me, Blind Spot, Waiting for Us, Neverending Story, Scars) that plays to main character Odysseus well, especially that softer tone when he talks to and about Penelope and Telemachus.

Minho

Bonus: Keep Your Friends Close, Full Speed Ahead, Would You Fall In Love with Me Again, The Challenge

Minho encaptures this childishness in his voice, strung in skilled high notes, a lighthearted fun tone sneaking in (see Youth, Case 143, Astronaut, Awkward Silence, Gone Days), and that playfulness goes both ways, in being encouraging and uplifting, while also sneaky and clever, which tips to both Polites and Aeolus. At the same time, Minho's vocal tone has grown in power and reaches to those higher notes powerfully (see Limbo, Cover Me, Neverending Story, The View, Waiting For Us, Cinema) that makes ballads, encouraging and torn, easy to imagine with Minho's emotional vocals-- male and female.

Changbin

Bonus: The Horse and the Infant, My Goodbye, The Underworld, Puppeteer

Battle cries and declarations, quick instructions in chaos-- this is the shout of Seo Changbin (see Burnin Tires, Ultra, Heyday, Victory Song). The energy of raw gutteral power, shouts from the belly, Changbin could lead 600 men, easy. The fast pace of commands, opening introductions, and even explaining the danger of Circe fall within his strength in opening and leading skz songs (see Thunderous, S Class, The Sound, Topline, 3racha), with a touch of deep longing emotion (see Streetlight, Because) and the raw heart of Odysseus in these songs are defining to Changbin's vocal color, and Eurylocus.

Hyunjin

Bonus: Six Hundred Strike, Luck Runs Out, Mutiny, God Games

This song is so low-set in the range, and has this taunting, gravely edge to it, that embodies Hyunjin's performance voice. The higher bits are mocking, an almost sultry edge to it, toying with the tone of villain, which Hyunjin kills (see Escape, Taste, Red Lights, Social Path), and the lower talking-sing-song bits fit his hip hop rap style (see Walking on Water, So Good, Any, Domino). That hint of insanity of Odysseus embracing the monster is every bit Hyunjin being possessed by a "character" (as he puts it) for performance. There is a softer aspect to his voice, questioning and searching (see Love Untold, ice.cream, Going Dumb, Mixtape: OH), like Eurylochus doing his best to follow Odysseus to the end. These variations and versatilities in Hyunjin's voice also makes him capable of cosplaying the whole pantheon tbh.

Jisung

Bonus: We'll Be Fine, Ruthlessness, Survive, Charybdis

Sweet baby boy, you are Telemachus. The higher register, the borderline cocky winsomeness in his wanderlust, Jisung would slay this (see Alien, Hellevator, Phobia, Run, Close). In the exact same breath, I will say my ace rapper absolutely captures that taunting anger, that's powerful and damning and horribly amused (see I Got It, Heyday, Bounce Back) and perfectly balances Poseidon's attitude. Somewhere between those two attitudes is the power to command, give commands, bouncing between high tones and quick changes (Lalalala, Truman, District 9, 3racha) needed in Odysseus against Polyphemus, and an extra rock tone quality (Hold My Hand) to battle sea monsters.

Felix

Bonus: Odysseus, Polyphemus, Thunder Bringer, Scylla

When Felix performs, there is an angry gravely sound that tears through him, like Odysseus tearing through suitors in his palace or conversely, Poseidon threatening to sic the entire ocean onto Ithica (see Truman, Taste, Cheese, Domino). However! Like Hyunjin, Felix has this "character" donning aspect to him, that skz use to their advantage by dropping him down to demon-level in their songs (see kingdom stages, ReawakeR, Venom, Item, Megaverse, Side Effects, Social Path, God's Menu) that make him the perfect voice for Polyphemus and Zeus, and the terror and threat carried in their voices as they destroy men. The versatility of his voice also always surprises me (Unfair, Deep end, Because) that he play the mourning and cursing of a terrifying Scylla taking out six men.

Seungmin

Bonus: Just A Man, Monster, Done For, Little Wolf

Someone described Seungmin's voice once to be like a violin-- an old, expensive one, that has a deep timbre and earthy weight to it (see Gone Away, Cinema, Neverending Story, As we are). It fits a prophet perfectly, but also that mourning sound of Odysseus. Outside of these songs literally having strings, is the droning longing in the melody, that borders the ballad qualities of Seungmin's voice, able to ring softer and more vulnerable (see Here Always, Destiny, Youtiful). When the same emotion is turned up to threatening, he stands in Circe's palace (see Phobia, Topline, Chk Chk Boom). The emotion and skill of depth are exactly what place Seungmin perfectly in these songs.

Jeongin

Bonus: Dangerous, Love in Paradise, Not Sorry for Loving You, Storm

I am going to kindly welcome back joker Jeongin, from predebut/Hotel Del Luna/Halloweens and have him take center stage. Full cocky, alluring but also taunting, with a syrupy melody (see Burning Tires, Hallucination, Can't Stop, Domino, Social Path, Topline)-- Hermes and Jeongin could be one in the same honestly. On the other end, Jeongin's siren-like metallic tone can swing to the lullaby end of the spectrum too (see Hug Me, Levanter, My Universe, Youtiful) and would make him a sweet, darling, trying to tempt as Calypso. Somewhere between the two is the calling out in harmony to the wind and waves, a strong vocalist who carries a topline (Silent Cry, Waiting for Us, Gone Away)

Tumblr didn't like this post and gave me hell to process it and post BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED :D Come chat, the comments, my dms, and my ask box are open, please scream with me, I have been infected with The Brainworms clearly XD

[anotherescsite]

Thirty seven little films 2025: LUXEMBOURG

La Poupée Monte Le Son - Laura Thorn

Selection method: National final Has it been heard live? Yes Semi final # 2 Drawn: 13th

I like that Luxembourg has chosen to honour the 1965 winner in this kind of tribute song. It gives respect to the former winner, brings it into the ears of the youth and it is still a decent song after 60 years. So my queries go like this: was the Luxembourg final rigged for this to win? Will there also be a tribute to Apres toi and the other three Luxembourg winners? Is poor Frances Gall sand Serge Gainsbourg spinning in their respective graves?

The film opens with footage from the 1965 Eurovision song contest and Frances Gall appears to sing Poupee di sire, poupee di son. But that flutters away and we have Laura all cute in pink. She has male dancers at the beginning and they interact well. She performs some puppet like movements and the men look like they are forcing her into position at times as if she is a marionette. But as the song continues, the men start dancing like marionettes and Laura is more free. Female dancers arrive and Laura has a costume change from a less girly number to her underwear. She hits the high notes and it comes to an end.

This is a good performance for Luxembourg on the stage. Laura looks good, she sings well, the choreography is decent and the package seems okay. Except it isn't. I read the translation of the song and I applaud the lyrist for writing such a clever song. The song is a much more female empowered. The film has this towards the end, the majority of it isn't painted that way. I also noticed a link to the Czechia song from a few years back with the reoccurrence 'I'm not your puppet' in the lyrics.

In conclusion, I don't think this will see the heights of Poupee di sire, poupee di son. That 1965 song was a ground breaking cataclysm to Eurovision's starched dresses, operatic voices and pleasant ballads. It was the introduction of modern music to the song contest and brought a new sound. This song from Laura doesn't do anything like that, but it is still a decent song worthy of it's place in the song contest.

RIP: France Gall (1947-2018) Eurovision legend.

Finalist?: Yep.

[gildalilli]

I just rewatched the scene where Crow and Zira dance and it finally clicked that they are having two entirely different conversations while they dance. Neither is listening or responding to the other. They have different "exactlys". I knew this in theory but rewatching it and seeing the way they fill in their own blanks is fascinating.

This is how the conversation went to Crowley.

C: "You are playing puppets with the humans, please stop. Making it rain to see if it will make them talk is relatively harmless in terms of their free will, but It is going too far to control them without their consent or knowledge. Additionally, I'm scared for us and we're in immediate danger. Again, please stop being creepy, so we can make a plan together on the next step for gabriel. I need your help and your behaviour is adding to my anxiety."

What he heard in Aziraphale's answers and actions: No thanks im too happy playing god, and you dont know what youre talking about. By the way I kept this skill of being the only angel who is able to dance a complete secret from you for 200 years, betraying your trust just a bit more. I'm also going to stand up for Gabriel because I'm brainwashed by heaven still and don't really care to ask about the abuse he did against you or the murder threat to the person you love most dearly in the world. Your feelings about that don't matter as long as I can do what I want right now.

And this is how the conversation went to Aziraphale.

C: I've been very stressed over everything lately and am venting this to you.

"Don't stress, look: I planned a big romantic date for us as well as the women. Come over here and spend some time with me and maybe you will feel better. See? I love you so much I'd keep hell at bay for us."

I am prejudiced against heaven and dont care what happens to an angel like you in their time of need. I actively wish him harm, despite knowing your feelings, which aren't important to me. I'm also going to ignore all of the effort you are currently putting in.

"I know you're a grumpy, anxiety ridden person but I need you to see what I'm trying to tell you right now. I'm confident in my ability to protect you, as I always have. I love you. Oh I planned this so meticulously and everything is going wrong."

They dont LISTEN because theyre so hellbent on being heard themselves. And it's how instead of achieving a successful, coordinated win like the body swap in s1, we get no satisfying triumph over the odds in s2. No clever plan of action because this same pattern of being unable to work together and failing to listen to the other person has been a problem ever since Armageddon and the body swap itself left them too traumatised to have a functional relationship.

[idkaguyorsomething]

Why you should read Darths and Droids:

Are you a fan of Star Wars or tabletop RPGs? Do you wish that the Star Wars movies had a more consistent quality of writing? Have you ever wanted to read a story where Qui-Gon Jinn was a crackhead crazy-as-shit dumbass who orchestrates the most hilariously convoluted terrible plans, Anakin Skywalker was a menacing manipulator who makes the most influential people in the galaxy dance like puppets to his tune, and Jar Jar Binks was a genuinely helpful badass? Well have I got the webcomic for you!

What It’s About: Darths and Droids is a retelling of the Star Wars movies where the story is reframed as an ongoing campaign between a group of friends who keep derailing their poor GM’s plans with their shenanigans. By taking screenshots from the movies and adding different dialogue, it manages to tell a completely different story that weaves in a lot of familiar elements but manages to turn a lot of them completely on their head. The story of the various player’s lives outside of the game and the drama they experience is also added into the narrative, creating two different layers of story that are both interesting in different ways and allows for humor and heart to be integrated with intrigue and adventure.

Why You Should Read It: This comic has some seriously clever writing, you guys. It starts out as a simple parody of a lot of the goofier elements of Star Wars, but as it goes on it whips out some quite impressive Chekhov’s Guns, deconstructs various themes and elements of the Star Wars universe thoroughly, and offers rich new storylines in its place. What it means to balance the Light and Dark when there is a prophecy fortelling one who will even its scales, for example, as well as exploring cool concepts that the movies never quite took advantage of, like the existence of shapeshifters, clones, and the ability to upload one’s consciousness into other vessels. Framing it as a tabletop game also does wonders for clearing up plot holes, and the script is so tight that you’d have a hard time picking out any continuity errors if you tried. Rereads and attention to detail is incredibly rewarding, as you get to see a huge amount of setup pay off, and it’s really nice to see the players grow up and watch their lives change over the course of several years. Also, for the visually impaired, each episode comes with a handy transcript that makes it easily accessible, as well as some nice food for thought from the writers about game design.

Why You Might Want To Avoid: First and foremost, this is a long comic. It’s been updating three times a week for nearly two decades, and at a glance the archives reveals it to be quite a binge (though there are a couple of recorded play versions of the first arc that might take you less time to get through). Some arcs can also drag significantly more than others, since the better Star Wars movies tend to provide less material for satire or plot holes to cover, though they still contain some pretty juicy drama and entertaining jokes. However, if you’re here for the characters from Star Wars that you know and love, you will not find them here. This is a game played between a group of friends, and the versions of every character they encounter are very different from canon. Not to mention that, if you’re unfamiliar with tabletop RPGs, then a lot of the jokes and references will probably confuse you, though the writer’s commentary does a good job of explaining everything to the uninitiated. Still, it was a pretty influential comic back in the day for a reason. It really elevated a lot of the ideas another webcomic with a similar concept, DM of the Rings, first came up with, and by extension, a lot of the ideas in Star Wars.

TL;DR Darths and Droids is a fantastic cleverly written webcomic that combines tabletop gaming and Star Wars to excellent effect and manages to tell a funny, memorable story with tight action, knotty intrigue, and witty plotting. It’s super bingeable and you’ll never be able to look at Star Wars the same way after reading it.

[turnupswritessometimes]

Geppetto's Boy - Lies of P - Ch7

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54517777/chapters/138571591

Summary: A collection of oneshots set throughout the game, mostly exploring P and Gepetto’s relationship. (But exploring P’s relationships with most of Hotel Krat too.)

First | Previous | Next

Chapter Seven

Ergo was humans.

Ergo was made from humans.

Ergo was life. Literally. It was human lives.

P killed one of the monsters on his way back to the hotel. Ergo had flown from it. The alchemist had been right, then. This sickness was because of Ergo. The very thing P needed to live had caused the petrification disease. The puppets had been the reason for all of Krat's downfall; their frenzy, and their poisonous Ergo. He was a puppet. He had been part of the reason Krat was in the state it was in.

And yet, as he made his way back to the hotel, he still couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that the blue, swirling Ergo could also be so terrible. It was beautiful; it was beautiful, and it was what brought him to Sophia. It was what had brought him home - the hotel was his home.

He stopped, on the steps of his home, his hand over his chest. His heart ran on Ergo. When his father opened him up, his face was lit with the soft blue light. How could something so beautiful be so terrible too?

"Hey, pal…" Gemini seemed to hesitate. "You don't think…"

All P was doing was thinking. His mind whirred, round and round. He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with the Head Alchemist: with Simon Manus. Could he trust him to tell the truth? He supposed he had to: he had as much reason to believe him, as he did believe his father? Things were starting to come together, like fragments of a broken mirror. If he had some patience, he could piece it back together.

Though, he felt a twinge of fear at what it could mean.

"I need to speak to Polendina," P murmured. Because Polendina said his Ego had awakened: Polendina remembered things. It would make a terrible sense with what he had learnt.

"Shouldn't we see Geppetto first?" Gemini asked. "I mean, he'll want to know about this-"

"He might already know. He must already know." P was sure of that, when he said it. His father must know the truth about Ergo; must at least know its effects on humans; he was a clever man. "But he will not tell us the truth."

Gemini's voice was soft, and only half-scolding: "You don't know that."

But P did. He looked up at the hotel, finding the window of his father's room. He knew Geppetto now, and he knew what he would say and do. He knew that he had already hidden so much from P, that he wouldn't think of hiding this. He had gotten P to do exactly what he wanted.

"He does not lie," he said. "But he does not tell the truth, either."

He only told P as much as he needed to know, to keep him obedient. To keep him being a good boy.

Gemini listened. He gave a long, low chirp, his light dimming. "It's up to you. I don't control what you do. I can only give you advice."

P almost smiled. He felt exhausted from the fight, and more exhausted from the revelation, but at least he still had Gemini. He brushed his fingers over the top of the lantern. "Thank you."

Then he noticed there was something very wrong, with Hotel Krat. Noticed, now that Gemini was dimmer, there weren't as many lights coming from the building. The door was open - the door was damaged. From the glimpse he saw inside, he could see the lobby was in a state; the plants overturned and a tile cracked. Something had happened.

He rushed in, drawing his sword. Almost everything had been overturned. The photoframes had been smashed, and glass scattered the floor. The welcome desk was cleaved, woodchips trailing across the cracked marble floors. A chandelier had fallen, over the stairs, making everything darker; making shadows dance across the walls.

"I don’t like this…" Gemini murmured at his side. P didn’t reply. This was unnerving. More unnerving than walking into the Grand Exhibition, knowing it contained monsters. His home had been attacked. Someone had attacked his home.

When he went upstairs, when he found everyone, he learnt the details.

It had been attacked. The hotel had been attacked, and his father had been taken. Kidnapped. Geppetto had been kidnapped, and P had not been there to save him, this time. P hadn't been there. This had happened because of him.

It had all happened because of him.

All the way down to him inviting Allidoro to the hotel. His father had warned him about inviting everyone to the hotel, but P hadn't listened. He hadn't obeyed. He hadn't done what his father said. And because of that, his father had been taken from him. It had been the alchemsits. The alchemists, who were turning people into monsters. What were they going to do to his father?

It scared him, and he still hated being scared.

It wasn't just Alidoro, he thought, as he turned back down the corridor. It had been the fox and the cat. They had said their next job was for the alchemists. They must have known about this. He had trusted them too. He had suspected they were lying, but he'd thought they were good.

It was all P's fault.

He couldn't remember feeling angry, but he was angry, now. Furious. Hot. Not warm, like when he was happy, or proud. This was an itching, raging anger that made him want to fight. P had never wanted to fight like this. This feeling made him want to hit and maim and hurt something. He wanted to let out the burning rage onto something; to destroy something and have the satisfaction of knowing he had done that.

He retreated back to the lobby, becuase he hadn't trusted himself around the others. He didn't want to shout at them. He didn't want to hurt them. He couldn't risk hurting the people he cared about.

P looked at the gramophone in the lobby. The table it sat on was chipped, but the gramophone itself was in tact. He'd spent a long time listening to its records; loved listening the music, and how it skipped and crackled sometimes. But now, he wanted to smash it. Into pieces. It was so delicate, and it would be so beautiful to break it. To use his own hands to destroy such a beautful, delicate thing.

"Clever one."

He turned, to see Sophia there. His anger swirling like a hurricane inside him. He clenched his jaw, so he wouldn't shout at her, because he didn't want to shout at Sophia. He clenched his fists, and kept them clenched at his sides.

Sophia was soft, as soft as she always was. Her blue eyes looked at him, sadly. "I don't believe you've ever felt rage before, have you?"

P couldn't even shake his head. His chest heaved with a burning breath. "I've never wanted to destroy before."

"That's because you are just." Sophia stepped forward, her dress moving gracefully around her. She held out a hand, as if she was going to touch his cheek, but then stopped, as if she was afraid to touch him. "You don't have to destroy, now, darling."

He didn't want her to be afraid - not of him. He didn't want to be angry, anymore. He caught her hand, and tugged it to him, feeling clumsy. Sophia leant closer, unfurling her fingers to cup his cheek.

"How?" How could he stop being furious?

"Take a breath," Sophia said. "Keep breathing, and it will get easier. You can control that anger, and save it for the people you're truly angry at."

P tried to breathe. He wondered how breathing even helped, when he was a puppet. But it did. When he took a long breath, he felt some of the fire die down. It brought him back to himself. He leant into Sophia's touch, his heart racing. He kept breathing, searching her face. Her eyes were like sapphires; were the same deep blue as Ergo.

"Or, you can let it pass," she said. "You can let it wash over you, like a wave."

"I want that." He didn't like anger. Anger didn't make him feel like himself. Anger made him feel like he was going to do something terrible.

"Then you do that, clever one."

Sophia smiled at him. She brushed his hair back, behind his ear, her finger trailing down his jaw. The touch was so gentle compared to the violence he wanted to commit. Was this how the Black Rabbit had felt, when he'd wanted to take P apart? Was this how that donkey-man had felt, on the bridge, when he'd wanted to kill Geppetto? Could he blame either of them, for their feelings?

Being a human, he was finding, was much more difficult than he'd ever thought. There were so many different kinds of pain. There was so much more that he hadn't felt, and didn't know if he could stand feeling.

P nodded. He caught her hand again, and squeezed it gently. He wanted her to be closer. When Sophia was close to him, he felt he could be good; he felt as though he was more than Geppetto's puppet.

"My dearest friend!"

It was Venigni's voice. P turned towards the sound, and he knew Sophia was slipping away. She always did, whenever anyone else was there. He didn't understand it, but thought if he asked, she would hide from him too. Now, he wished she would stay. She always knew what to say to bring him back to himself.

By the time Venigni had made his way down the stairs, P stood alone in the foyer. For once, Venigni looked a mess; his hat gone, hair a mess, coat akimbo. He was panicked; of course he was. They'd been terrified, without him. How could he had let that happen?

"Oh, grazie a Dio!" he said. "When you rushed from the room, I thought...well, I'm glad you've not done anything hasty, compagno."

P shook his head. His hair swayed with the movement.

"Good, good."  Venigni brushed his own hair back. His hand shook. "Because, forgive my saying so, you are not prepared to rush off to another battle."

P supposed he wasn't. His legion arm needed tuning up, and now the anger had dulled, he felt pain where he'd been hit in the fight. Not to mention the blood, jamming up his legion arm. Geppetto had always cleaned the blood off him. Had always kept him perfect.

"I'm alright," he lied.

"You may be alright, but my beautiful arm is not." Venigni closed the gap between them. He caught P's wrist before he could pull away, turning it over to examine his palm. P could pull away, if he wanted to - but he didn't. "I cannot allow you to shame me by fighting with this."

"My father always repaired me," P said. He didn't realise it would hurt to say, but it did. His father had always been there.

Venigni stopped, for a moment. He nodded, then. "I am sorry about what happened to Geppetto. But will you allow me to help you?"

P looked at his legion arm. He had never cleaned or fixed it himself. Not anything more than Venigni's repair tool, wich gave it a second lease of life but didn't fix it for good. He didn't know if he could do it himself; his father had never given him the chance.

He nodded.

"Thank you." Venigni did smile. Did look genuine, if still shaken. "Step into my office, if you will."

If P had been in a better mood, he would have smiled. Instead, he nodded, and stepped towards Venigni's space. Pulcinella clunked down the stairs, watching them, almost hesitantly.

Did he have an ego, too, P wondered? Did he also have a human soul within him?

He laid his arm on Venigni's worktable, and he could see it now. Could see the dozens of small repairs that needed to be completed before it would work well again. Could feel, now, that it was an effort to make it work. Now the anger was gone, he felt drained.

Venigni paused, over it. He looked at P, as though he was expecting him to object. P took a deep breath, letting go of the last drags of anger. He nodded, again, setting his jaw.

"I cannot imagine how you must be feeling." Venigni sought for his tools, thumping the bag down on the table. He started work, easing P's fingers into place and taking off the plating.

He didn't want to look. Not this time.

"Geppetto is a good man," Venigni said.

He was the creator. It had been on that recording, from the King of Puppets. From Romeo. Geppetto was the creator, and all the puppets had been obeying Romeo, but also Geppetto. Romeo, it seemed, was also bound by that covenant. His own creator had destroyed him.

He hadn't told Venigni about that. He'd lied, and said he hadn't been able to hear, either.

How far would his father hurt him, if he needed to?

"Ergo is humans," he said, instead. He thought it best that someone else knew.

"Excuse me?" Venigni asked.

P looked at him. "Ergo is human souls. That's why puppets release it when they're destroyed. The monsters too, they release it, when they die."

Ergo and ego didn't sound too different. Pulcinella had paused at the doorway. What was he thinking? It was easier for P to wonder that, than to keep thinking about his father. His father who must have known about the ergo. Who had given P an ergo heart.

What was in P's heart?

"The Head Alchemist is using ergo to create monsters. To evolve humans, he said," P continued.

"That's awful." Venigni paused in his work, to look at him. P stared back. "And now they've taken Geppetto too."

"Because he knows about Ergo." Or because it would draw out P again? He wasn't sure. He knew he was going to get his father back. He was going to be a good son; he was going to be a good boy.

"That is their mistake." Venigni continued his work, and relief shoot through P. He felt his arm fixing. "I have never seen anything you cannot triumph over, bello."

Because P was made to destroy. Designed to destroy. The very arm Venigni was fixing was a weapon. Finally, he felt he could put his weapons to good use.

P didn't answer. He waited, feeling his arm be fixed. He brushed Gemini's lantern with his spare hand, waiting. He wanted to go. He wanted to go now, becuase if he was fighting, he wasn't thinking. If he thought too much, he'd realise what everything meant.

And he didn't want that. Suddenly, surely, he didn't want the puzzle pieces to fall into place.

"Thank you," he said, when Venigni released his arm, declaring it was as good as new. It shone in the gas lamps.

"I know I am not as fine a maker as Geppetto," Venigni began again, pausing longer this time, looking over him. "But there are...other repairs. If you'd permit me, I could..."

He trailed off, gesturing to P's chest. His heart. He had internal repairs that needed seeing to; he felt that too. Felt like he was overheating.

P put his hand over his heart. It was racing. He looked at Venigni. This man had irritated him, often, but this man was a friend. His friend. Looking at him earnestly form behind his glasses.

He trusted him.

P nodded. "Alright."

Venigni blinked, shocked. Then he beamed, like a child in a sweetshop. P couldn't help smiling, a little. He lifted himself, so he sat on the table, pushing back to make himself comfortable. He unbuttoned his coat, and his waistcoat. Pushed open his shirt, and realised he'd never done that before. Had never gotten to do that before, because his Father had always been the one to do it. It was strange, to do it himself; to make a decision.

Venigni's fingers hovered, over his chest plate, pausing.

This feltintimate, P realised. Venigni could break him, if he felt inclined. His life was in this man's hands.

He put his hand on Venigni's wrist, meeting his eyes. Venigni stared back, and nodded.

And Venigni opened him up, and got to work fixing him. P waited, sparks dancing through him, and watched Venigni's expression. It was different to watching his father. Geppetto was impassive, methodical. Venigni's eyebrows twitched, his mouth moved, as he worked.

"You're beautiful," Venigni murmured. "Truly, you are – a masterpiece."

He was a copy. P knew that, now. He was a copy of the little boy in the portrait; a copy of Carlo. But how could he resent his father for doing that, now he had been taken? How could he have been suspicious of him? How could he have been such a bad son, when his father had always been good to him?

P smiled, a little, and let Venigni work. He was grateful for Venigni had made him stop. This gave him time to think. If he'd rushed on, straight away, he worried he might have done something terrible.

He might have killed, without his father telling him to. Might have not felt remorse for hurting humans.

Could he do that?

He might have to do that, now, as he pursued the alchemists.

Venigni closed P's chest. His hand lingered, on his bare skin. He looked up, and P realised they were close. Very close, and Venigni was examining him. His glasses were low on his nose, and his eyes seemed bare without them.

"You are beautiful," he repeated.

P felt warm. This wasn't about his mechanics; it was about his appearance. He didn't want to say that it wasn't his face. It was Carlo's. He put his hand over Venigni's.

"Thank you," P murmured. This made him feel alive; his heart whirring.

Venigni smiled, softly. "May I?"

P wasnt sure what he was asking, but he nodded, all the same.

Venigni reached up, with his spare hand, and tucked P's long hair behind his ear. It was different to how his father touched him; this wasn't maintenence; this was something more. Something closer to Sophia. This was touch.

"Buorna fortuna, my friend."

Venigni pressed his lips against P's cheek. On one side, and then the other. He stepped away, and P felt sparks on his skin. He blinked. Found himself smiling, ducking his chin like he was embarrassed. He was embarrassed. He could feel, even if he shouldn't be able to. He nodded.

Eugenie arrived, then. She brushed her hair back, retying it, adjusting her glasses.

"I am sure your weapons need a buff up too," she said. She looked nervous. "Or perhaps I can improve them before you head out again?"

P nodded, drawing his blade. He held it out on his palms. "Thank you. Both of you."

He had a team. He had friends, who were ready to repair him and his weapons. For once, Eugenie didn't smile, as she looked over his sword. She worked silently, and hard, whilst he paced. Tested his arm.

Noticed the puppet they'd used for sparring was broken, on the floor. Did that puppet have an ego too?

P leant against the door of the hotel, listening to Venigni and Pulcinella's soft voices and the sound of Eugenie tinkering. His friends had calmed the fury inside him.

Now he was ready to save his Father.

*

P suspected he'd known, before the beach. Long before the beach, though he couldn't say how much longer. Just that he'd known, even before he saw the memories.

He stood, his boots half-buried in the sand, and finally admitted it.

"My Ergo is Carlo."

Gemini didn't chirp. For a moment they stood there, together, the wind whipping P's clothes. Sand buffeted his cheeks.

 "Do you remember...being him?" Gemini asked.

"No." P's heart thudded. He wondered if that was Carlo, trying to get out. "No, I only remember parts, but it's like..a book. I remember these things and I know they happened, but it doesn't feel like it happened to me."

He was Carlo. But he wasn't. He had been Carlo, once, and now he had Carlo's Ergo in his heart, yet Carlo hadn't returned. The boy in these memories didn't feel like him.

He stepped forward. The waves washing to the shore sounded very far away.

"My Father knew that."

Gemini paused, again. "Yeah, I think you might be right about that, Pal."

"He built me to replace him."

P knew that. He thought he'd known when he saw the portrait, for the first time. He'd known, but hadn't let himself realise it. Perhaps he'd even known before that. Perhaps, when he was presented with Carlo's old uniform, and Geppetto had looked at him like that, as if he was looking for something inside him. He had Carlo's ergo, he was built to look like Carlo.

And he wasn't.

It explained all of those looks that he didn't understand. Every time it felt like he'd said something wrong. It hadn't been what Carlo would do. He had failed. He wasn't Geppetto's boy. He couldn't be.

"Pal?" He heard Gemini's voice distantly. He hadn't moved, he realised, he still stood on the beach, the wind whipping his hair across his face. His hair. That had been why his father wanted to cut it. P hadn't let him.

"If I had been better, this wouldn't have happened." If he'd been a better replacement for Carlo.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Gemini's lantern glowed brighter, to get his attention. He looked down at it, blinking. "You didn't kidnap Geppetto. You were doing what he said. Going to the Grand Exhibition."

"He told me not to trust anyone outside the hotel."

"And I'm sure glad you did."

"Carlo wouldn't have." He felt sure of that. Felt sure that Carlo had only trusted Romeo.

"Maybe. But it was trusting people that got you the cure for Lady Antonia. It was trusting people that got Eugenie closure about her family. It was trusting people that helped us get this far, kid."

"Those were all lies."

"And that makes you better than Carlo."

P raised an eyebrow at Gemini. "Maybe Carlo was a good liar."

"You tell me."

P knew. He knew that Carlo was an atrocious liar. "He wasn't."

"See, I can't tell if you're lying or not."

P couldn't help it. He smiled, just a little. That could have been Gemini's plan all along; to lift his spirits. He still felt entirely weighed down, but not quite so terrible – not quite so terrible that he wasn't Carlo.

He took a step. The memories continued around him. He hadn't wanted to be Carlo. He'd known that.

But he did still want to be a son.

He let the memories form around him, let them fill up the gaps in his mind, and understood what Carlo's life had been like. Understood Carlo was gone, now. P may have his Ergo and his memories, but he wasn't Carlo any longer. That boy was gone. Maybe Ergo wasn't quite human souls. Perhaps there was more to what a human soul was.

Perhaps he still carried part of Carlo, but now it nestled alongside something else. Hi owns?

"Gemini." They'd reached the steps of the great, stone building. It loomed so large that it seemed to have become one with the stony, grey sky.

Perhaps he still carried Carlo's soul, but now it nestled alongside something else. His?

"Gemini." They'd reached the steps of the great, stone building. It loomed so large that it seemed to have become one with the stony, grey sky. "Do you think it's possible? To develop a soul?"

Gemini didn't answer straight away. His light flickered.

"You know, pal," he said. "I think anything's possible."

P smiled. He stepped forward.

He didn't know what he was going to do, when he met his father again.

But he did know who he was, now. He wasn't Carlo.

He was P.

[wlwcatalogue]

Five Days of Yam-Pak Movies ～ Day 4: Xi Shi, The Eternal Beauty // 西施 (dir. Chu Kea / 珠璣, 1960) - starring Yam Kim Fai (任劍輝) and Pak Suet Sin (白雪仙)

Scene outline and more information below!

Outline Based on the folk tales surrounding Xi Shi, one of the Four Great Beauties (四大美女) of China. The Yue Kingdom has been conquered by the warmongering Wu Kingdom, and its king and queen have been taken hostage. In a bid to rescue the monarch and turn the tables, minister Fan Li (Yam Kim Fai) recruits the humble but politically-minded washerwoman Xi Shi (Pak Suet Sin) and trains her up to become the king of Wu’s concubine— in other words, their woman on the inside. Both fall for each other, but love their country too much to call off the mission, so Xi Shi enters the Wu Kingdom’s court as originally planned. And it turns out that she is naturally gifted as a saboteur: drawn in by her beauty and constantly turned around by her cleverness, the king of Wu soon becomes a puppet dancing to the tune of Yue’s liberation… Scene Summary Although Xi Shi is an excellent spy, that’s not to say that she does not face her own share of troubles. She is isolated, having no compatriots apart from another concubine sent with her from Yue Kingdom, and not knowing when she can see her love next; and of course, there is also a very high chance of her dying in the Wu Kingdom even if she succeeds in causing its ruin. In this scene, Xi Shi has spent some time at the Wu court and so is elated to see a visiting Fan Li – however, both are filled with mixed emotions, knowing that their reunion is only temporary and that they cannot allow their feelings to jeopardise the mission.

What’s great about Xi Shi, The Eternal Beauty is that it’s basically a spy movie in a period setting. Sure, Xi Shi is beautiful, but the emphasis is on her being hyper-competent and highly intelligent; even when the king of Wu and his advisors are suspicious of her, she’s able to run circles around them. And despite it being a honey trap, there’s no threat of sexual assault or sexual violence at all! Thanks to the censorship of the 1950’s, the king of Wu is reinterpreted as just someone who really likes watching (non-sexualised) dance performances. It’s a novel take on Xi Shi, as most tellings depict her as being a passive pawn, whether as a helpless woman whose body is exploited in the conflict between Yue and Wu, or as someone who manages to ruin a kingdom purely by dint of being so beautiful that the ruler cannot focus on his duties. Take a look the essay linked below, and marvel at how much better this movie is!

Links:

My post about Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin being queer icons

An English-language academic essay by HKU professor Olivia Milburn on the depictions on Xi Shi in early Chinese literature

Full movie on Youtube

[antinataliegroup]

AUSTIN AT THE CONCERT

What’s this the image of Austin looking bored, legs crossed, while kaia drapes her body all over him?

Austin body language screams reluctant participant, rather than a party enthusiast. He did NOT want to be there. He is not holding her in that image. This is a CONCERT. Austin looks like he’s at an elderly home. For those who keep saying Austin wore a mask so he wouldn’t get noticed: IT IS MORE NOTICEABLE TO WEAR A MASK IN A HUGE PUBLIC PLACE WHERE NO ONE ELSE IS WEARING ONE! Also, I just want to point out, Austin is in a VIP area with Oscar winner, and friend of the Gerber’s: Laura Dern!! He won’t be bothered by ANY FANS!! So that argument is useless!

What the deal with the footage in the room?

I wanna HUG the person who recored that! Austin is fully UNAWARE there is a camera in the room. Kaia on the other hand, is fully aware! she, the puppeteer of their PR narrative, orchestrating a show he appears reluctant to perform. The noticeable absence of his hand in hers is a powerful revelation, a small yet significant detail hinting at a concealed imbalance of control. As the camera captures this unguarded moment, the veiled intricacies of their relationship begin to unravel. He just hates holding her.

a moment of escape presents itself—one that reveals a cunning maneuver within the confines of a PR-driven relationship. Amidst the orchestrated scenes,  he uses a distraction, and with lightning speed:-without hesitation, Austin springs into action, capitalizing on the unexpected run in with the man. In an instant, he shifts his focus, engaging with him and creating a captivating moment that diverts the spotlight from kaia. It's a calculated split-second decision, a skillful maneuver designed to extricate himself from the meticulously crafted gerber. He seizes the opportunity, using the unsuspecting individual as an instant diversion from the scripted entanglement.  Austin prolongs the hug with that person as a means to get away from kaia. Let’s be real, we all know if he bumped into that guy in the street, the hug would not have lasted that long.

Merely EIGHT SECONDS into the video, Kaia’s desperation becomes palpable as she fervently seeks her turn, her hand impatiently raised, a stark contrast to Austin's genuine connection with the man. The desperation in Kaia’s body language is distasteful. 

At the 12-second mark in the video, a strategic shift emerges – Austin adeptly employs his body as a barrier, subtly swaying to obstruct Kaia's spotlight-stealing attempts. His deliberate movements create a visual boundary, ensuring his mini-reunion remains untarnished by her overshadowing ambitions.

At 14 seconds, something intriguing happens. Austin is clearly avoiding kaia, doing his best to keep interactions with her to a minimum. On the other hand, kaia is trying really hard to show off that they're together, but Austin seems like he's ignoring her, almost as if she's not even there.

At the 18-second mark, things get even more intriguing. Austin pulls off a clever move, using another woman as a distraction. He introduces this random lady to the man he hugged earlier. Then, when kaia goes in for a hug with the man, any boyfriend would have reveled in the moment, right? But no, Austin walks AWAY and behaves as though kaia isn't even there. It's like a dance - she moves forward, and he takes a step back every time, creating a noticeable gap between them. IT IS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE PEOPLE!!!! 

Finally the ICING on the poisonous cake, as we hit the 21-second mark, a pivotal moment occurs. Kaia accidentally bumps into Austin, her supposed boyfriend, but his reaction is far from what one might expect. He plays it cool, as if he doesn't recognize her at all. The intrigue deepens when he intentionally switches his bag, a calculated move to avoid holding her hand. It's like he's employing yet another tactic to keep a distance between them. WAKE UP! This is a PR relationship. As mentioned, I have run this account for a long time. I’ve see this play out with MANY celebs! 

Have an epic week! See you in the next article! 

[fantasy-fields-danger-zone]

Fnaf bitty Puppet (R/Robotic)

Model: 1.0

Version: OG(Toy)

Size: 3'8 Feet Tall (mini) - 6'8 Feet Tall (Fullsize) - 9'8 Feet Tall (Bara)

Personality: Mysterious, empathetic, solemn, reserved, intelligent, graceful, sensitive, intuitive, weary, focused, protective, loyal, melancholic, deliberate, calm, dignified, emotional, calculating, affectionate (selectively), introspective, cautious

Likes: Music boxes, lullabies, soft fabrics, candlelight, peaceful places, quiet companionship, night skies, handmade gifts, being trusted, caring for others in silence, soft melodies, string instruments, emotional intelligence, memory tokens

Dislikes: Loud noises, aggressive or chaotic bitties, being ignored, being blamed unfairly, bright lights, broken music boxes, manipulative caretakers, adults who lie, betrayal, confined spaces, fast movement, flashing lights

Compatibility: They would never hurt a child, regardless of if they are in security mode or not, though they may still be more scary to the kids in said mode,

When in security mode masks and flashlights do not help! They need to be played music, music boxes work the best but as long as they like the music they will stay docile,

Calm, mysterious, emotionally distant yet deeply empathetic. They are fiercely protective, especially of other bitties and children, and carry a quiet sorrow in everything they do.

They rarely speak unless necessary, but when they do, their voice is soft and deliberate, like a lullaby.

Despite their sad aura, they are incredibly clever and precise, capable of long-term planning and reading emotional cues. They value fairness, memory, and justice above all.

They form deep emotional bonds with consistent and respectful caretakers. They respond poorly to dishonesty or erratic behavior.

Quiet, structured, and emotionally aware environments are ideal.

They are calm around children and passive bitties but avoid confrontational or overwhelming individuals. They dislike sudden touch and require space and autonomy to thrive.

Additional info: Only spot wash with disinfectant whips, or remove suit to clean, do not remove suit without permission,

For charging a large, long, cord is provided, able to be plugged into the wall with an adapter or a small solar powered generator that is also provided, bitties can go a month without charge but daily charging is preferable, as after a day or two, depending of the bitty, they must go into a power saving mode and must use their reserves, and they will be very sluggish until a proper recharging takes place,

These bitties may jumpscare people from 12am tp 6am, as they are in security mode! And being around them at this time may be dangerus if you have heart issues or sensitive ears,

Performances: Sings lullabies, shadow puppet shows, emotional storytelling, gentle classical dance, music box sync, quiet guided meditation

In Universe: This Bitty design seeks to preserve both the protective and eerie qualities of the Puppet, bringing its deep lore and emotional weight into a manageable, robotic companion.

Difficulty: Advanced

Features: FNAF 2 Puppet

[leejenowrld]

Hi girlie I THINK is Nahyun because:

She seems like a desperate but maybe triumphant and the end?!! (i hope not) kinda person who would do anything to have the last laugh. I don't trust her, I don't like her clown energy at all!

Also, we saw Taeyong talking with her father in ch 7... And knowing how obssesed that man is with power and control, Nahyun could be a element in Jeno's life SO easy to manipulate and control... literally a Taeyong puppet.

AND!!! *checks notes* her last instagram update... Nahyun stop annoying me challenge.

it’s not a coincidence you’re sensing the weight of her movements, the way she’s positioned in places she really shouldn’t be, not if she were as harmless as she tries to seem. there’s a reason you noticed that meeting between her father and taeyong, and there’s a reason you clocked her little online updates too — it’s all too loud, isn’t it? too obvious, like it’s been left there for you to find. and maybe that’s exactly the point. maybe she wants to be seen, wants you to suspect her, wants you to pin her as the villain, because if everyone’s looking at her, then no one’s looking past her. no one’s looking at what really matters. and isn’t that the smartest way to play it? hide in plain sight, let them think you’re the easy answer, let them circle you like vultures while you quietly move the pieces exactly where you want them.

but then again, what makes you think she’s just a pawn? it’s funny, isn’t it — how a girl who spent the college arc fading in and out of the edges of other people’s power games, who smiled and danced and played her part like she had no agency of her own, suddenly has her father shaking hands with the man who all but rules this board. maybe she isn’t bait. maybe she’s the one stringing it all together, and you’ve been underestimating her from the very start. maybe the desperation you’re sensing is only part of the performance, and behind it is a girl who’s finally figured out that being underestimated is the sharpest weapon she could ever carry. maybe she’s the only one in this story clever enough to make you think you’ve caught her — when really, you’re already too late.

and still, you have to wonder, don’t you? what if it’s both? what if she is the bait and the player, the distraction and the dagger? what if you’re watching her exactly like you’re supposed to, your eyes stuck on her every move while the real twist crawls out from beneath your feet? i’m not going to hand it to you. you’ll see it unravel in time, in the quiet ways it always does. but remember this: in this story, nothing is by accident. not a glance, not a post, not a name dropped in passing. watch her, yes. but watch everyone else harder. this is a longer game than you think.

[mashitandsmashit]

AGT All-Stars: Preliminaries 2

10: Dustin Tavella. You know, I'm not trying to dump on this guy or anything...Some of his tricks are perfectly decent...But every magician has their methods of diverting people's attention...And when his are just warm, fuzzy stories with inspirational messages, I tend to look past them and focus on what he's probably doing behind the illusion...I'll admit, the paper that copies writing from another is a neat invention...Otherwise, he just stood behind a two-way board to erase the negative stuff and opened his jacket to show off his little T-shirt...(Or did he pull off one of those quick-change tricks...?) It's really a pathetic trick when you get right down to it...And since the “superfans” are a completely different demographic from the average voters of the regular seasons, he was unable to beat his former runner-up this time...I've ranted plenty about this guy, and I wish him the best...But this is probably the last hurrah for him on this show, or anywhere but a decent-yet-modest Vegas venue...

9: Jackie Fabulous. Indeed, Jackie has improved...from a mediocre catchphraser, to a mildly amusing wisecracker...Shame she still can't get over her Fran-Drescher-esque voice, but she managed to make me chuckle more than once this time...That being said, I ain't gonna get that Morgan Freeman metaphor out of my poor, traumatized brain...

8: Tone The Chief. You know, hearing “B-Double-O-T-Y” again after all these years makes me realize that I actually kinda missed this guy and his screaming cohort! Say what you will about the act itself...I've said plenty! But the song is fun and catchy, with a decent flow and some clever wordplay! The thing about this guy is, he's not TRYING to be taken seriously...For what he is, I actually enjoy him...What really made the act so terrible before falls on everyone else who insisted on him performing about a dozen encores of the same song...I'm still annoyed at Mel B. for bringing him back as a wildcard...But as long as that doesn't happen this time, I can appreciate rockin' out to the booty song one more time...BUT ONCE IS ENOUGH! Don't ruin a fun, silly thing with incessant repetition! (I'm looking at you, Ben Lapidus!)

7: Jamie Leahey. I guess I'd consider this Diet Darci Lynne, but the kid is charming and has a nice charisma and a cute puppet (even though Chuck is no Petunia...) I wouldn't mind at all seeing him and Darci perform a duet (or...quartet?) together...

6: Sara James. I'm a LITTLE on the fence with this one, since she didn't display quite as much of her range as previous performances...But I guess it was an interesting rendition of that Harry Styles song, and she still has the stage presence...At least she's not performing with the Black Eyed Peas again...

5: Detroit Youth Choir. Yup...Two-Time-Terry Golden Buzzer act...Since he relates to these kids so much, I guess it's not surprising that he wanted to endorse them yet again...As annoying as it may be, I will admit that they had a few strong harmonies in here, along with the usual dancing and some rapping to stir it up...I might actually say it improves on the original song! The only real issue I had was the verses; They do NOT lend themselves to choir-singing as strongly as the choruses do! Also, don't expect them to get voted NEARLY as high in the Finals this time...I don't think there are too many Detroit-ers in the “superfan” base...

4: Vitoria Bueno. Ballet ain't exactly my cup of tea, but I cannot deny how impressive this young lady's abilities are with her condition! Not much else to say...She's just inspirational!

3: Aidan Bryant. It's hard to say if this was really the best we've seen from him, but if nothing else, he seems to have upped the contortions! I think Aidan is the best aerialist to ever compete on this show (sorry Alan Silva, you're still a close runner-up...) And I am beyond happy to see him turn the tables on Dustin like that!

2: Malevo. Ahhh, these guys...While I can't say this was QUITE as compelling as their first audition all those years ago, I really have to hand it to them for returning to what made it work in the first place...They don't need a backing-track; They ARE the music! From the tapping shoes, to the conga drums, to the whippy-thingies in their hands and teeth, and even the more melodic instruments they brought in this time...My only criticism is that there was a severe shortage of the conga drums...In my opinion, those are the main attraction to this act!

1: Divyansh & Manuraj. While I like Berywam a LITTLE more, this was definitely in the same wheelhouse! They're both incredibly talented at what they do, and it comes together like funky Indian magic! Shame they didn't make the Finals, but I'm just glad to see them make the Top 2 here!

I guess the GB and superfans switched places this week, with the former being a little disappointing, and the latter being VERY satisfying! There may be a few acts I'd kill to see given another chance, but otherwise the season's not going too bad so far...

No idea who has the GB next week (or if there will even be one), but I spotted Avery Dixon, Mike E. Winfield and Bir Khalsa in there...Looks like it's gonna get a little nuts...and melons...Lots and lots of melons!

[cloudhymn]

there was all the justification in the world to argue why one should not fall for the imbibitor lunae. they are more idea than man, more puppet than person, and he would forever belong to the vidyadhara before his lover. he’s quite sure jing yuan, ever intelligent, brilliant, clever jing yuan, has thought of this already. he’s also sure he’s found reason in being unreasonable, has found a loophole to justify these affections regardless. many things were a debate with dan feng. everything could be measured and precise, compartmentalised and stored. everything had a place and a purpose, and the feelings he possessed for the feelings jing yuan invoked were too large, and imposing, and painful. it did not matter whether the cloudknight’s affections were ever meant to be breathed aloud. he knew. he knew and it became harder to crush the reciprocal emotions in turn. reason over heart must always win. he had no choice.

he could not deny the hurt in his chest, expanding like a balloon beneath his rib cage, threatening to crack the bone against its might. though the dragon prince had leafed through many a medical journal, there was simply no other means to endure heartache. there were some emotions, some temperaments, that must be felt. as unsatisfactory an answer as ‘time heals all wounds,’ he felt he no longer had the time to be patient, not with the looming threat of the precursor’s schemes on the horizon. still, if he was to endure this punishment, at least jing yuan’s dismissals are still heartbreakingly gentle. at least whatever manifests in the wake of this rejection wasn’t bitter resentment. he wondered if that would have been easier to swallow than this … this distance between them where there had been solace before ; a sunset on the horizon, the dance of sunlight through leaves, flowing lines of poetry read while stroking through an unruly mess of white flame.

dan feng’s gaze rose from the chessboard again. where eyes carried the usual sharpness of a viper, they instead held the weight of a storm behind his gaze, the echoes of it pouring into the sky and making it rumble with thunder. doesn’t rain make you happy, jing yuan? what he wouldn’t give to see the smile wrought from the cloudknight’s indulgent requests once more. he would still give it all up to prevent him from falling into politics of the imbibitor lunae, a game that was steadily becoming more and more deadly. he lamented the strain in the lion’s handsome features, forgoing an urge to touch that he had once abhorred in himself. because of this divide he’d placed, he feared he would never again indulge in running his hands through cloud-like tresses, nor witness the mischievous glint of gold in his gaze. this was for jing yuan’s own good. this he knew without doubt, and yet the sky split with lightning.

“ … as you wish. ”

@cloudhymn asked:

“ what about jietang ? ” one piece of jing yuan’s board overtaken, and with elegant precision the dragon slid it off the board and into the pile of the fallen. “ or maybe … zhengyu ? ” the high elder was used to most of the accusations, the gossip. he was already acutely aware of what many thought of him : cold and unfeeling. that he would brutalise through his enemies with swift and callous precision. and maybe they were right, that when given something to protect dan feng could do so knowing it wouldn’t eat him up inside, that the imbibitor lunae was a conduit for their deity and very little else. ‘ if long willed it ’ the preceptors would say. but this … this shouldn’t hurt the way it did, steering jing yuan away from an infatuation that would only hurt him in the end was supposed to feel … rewarding, and not like a thousand barbs digging into his chest. “ both of you get along do you not ? he is … ” dan feng looked up from their game, solemn, the skies start to grey. “ he’s warm, and cheerful. you would be a good match, don’t you think ? ”

"Feng-ge." Jing Yuan's voice comes out quieter than intended, sad and tired and so very not-Jing Yuan in all the wrong ways. His eyes stay glued to the board, despairing as Dan Feng claims another of his pieces. He's off his game -- has been off his game around Dan Feng for a couple weeks, now. Though he's managed to recover enough around the rest of the Quintet that nobody picks up on how he fumbles sometimes, when it's just him and Dan Feng... "I know what you're trying to do."

Dan Feng pauses, then, at the accusation left unspoken but plainly laid out all the same. Stop pitying me. It's only a fraction of a heartbeat that he falters, near imperceptible to most, and maybe Jing Yuan might have found some pride in being able to read Dan Feng well enough to pick up on it. All he feels now, though, is sadness and weariness.

Zhengyu is nice, sure, and they do get along, but he's... boring. Uninteresting. Simple, and while simple isn't bad, he lacks the spark that drew Jing Yuan to the rest of the Quintet, and especially Dan Feng.

He just isn't Dan Feng.

Jing Yuan folds his hands in his lap and squeezes them, tightly, as if it would be enough for the High Elder to not notice how his fingers shake. "I get it, okay? It was a lapse of judgement on my part. It won't happen again." Stop bringing it up. Let it die. The sunlight fades, and the sky only continues to darken. The clouds reflect what the High Elder is unable to wear on his face. He's unhappy at his own suggestions, so why--? Still, Jing Yuan continues, unable to stop despite the way his throat closes around his breath, unable to lessen the cut of his words no matter how soft he tries to make his tone. He can't look Dan Feng in the eye.

"If you wish to comfort me, you'll spare what remains of my dignity and speak of this no further. I don't want to hear it."