The ti has finally co. The stage is set. The stadium darkens, the lights dim, and excited screams fill the air. Light sticks wave across the horizon like a starry night sky—blinking, shimring, glowing in unwavering support.
Then, a lull.
A breath held by thousands.
No one knows what's about to happen. Not even who is about to appear.
And then—
A single spotlight cuts through the darkness.
It lands on one figure.
Draped in the most intricate, breathtaking costu, they stand tall—an embodint of a majestic bird. The makeup is flawless, but more than that, it's art. Not your typical pop gloss. No—this is drama. This is theater. This is slay.
And of course, the whole ensemble would slay.
It's only natural.
The spotlight belongs to Javi.
He hits a pose that screams drama and gag. He's eating—devouring—and leaving absolutely no crumbs. Because he's hungry. And the attention? Oh, he thrives on it. Lives for it. Serves slay on it.
Without a single word, he begins.
With nothing but his expressions, his posture, the fluid grace of his movents, Javi greets the audience. A majestic, mystical bird co to life.
Welco, one. Welco, all to this glorious, magnificent banquet.
The rules are simple—co and eat, and live to slay.
It's about to be a party… so co hungry.
No words are spoken, yet sohow, everyone understands.
Every single person in that stadium. Every viewer watching from ho.
And they are starving.
For what?
They don't even know.
And honestly? Javi doesn't care.
Because he's about to serve—and by the end of this banquet, everyone will be full.
Satisfied.
Fed.
The audience ca for their biases, ready to cheer for their favorites—but in this mont, sothing shifts. Sothing unspoken. Differences dissolve. And together, they stand in quiet, collective awe.
srized.
Hypnotized.
Javi moves with an enchanting smile, his gaze sharp and piercing. Every motion—whether bold and explosive or small enough to almost go unnoticed—burns with a fierce, fiery energy.
This is where he belongs.
His ti with Cirque du Soleil lives in every movent. It's not just influence—it's instinct. Muscle mory. Ho.
The way he moves… it doesn't look practiced.
It looks natural.
Like he was always ant to be this creature.
Every tiny mannerism, every tilt of the head, every flick of the wrist—perfectly avian. Perfectly him.
The music swells.
A vibrant banquet of sound—oriental instrunts woven seamlessly with modern beats. Past and present. Reality and fantasy. All colliding into sothing intoxicating.
And Javi, fully in his elent, begins to perform.
To entertain.
To welco.
This isn't just a stage.
This is LEAVEN's world.
He glides with impossible fluidity, leaping as if gravity has always had a soft spot for him. He soars across the massive stage, filling every inch of it alone—effortlessly, completely.
It pulls the audience into a trance.
The most beautiful trance they've ever known.
And then—
The contortion.
It hits out of nowhere.
A collective gasp ripples through the crowd.
Javi bends—no, folds—his body in ways that feel almost unreal. His back arches impossibly as he rolls across the stage on his torso, only to pause and flash the audience a coy wink.
A silent challenge.
Are you not entertained?
He drops into splits—center, then side to side—transitioning like it's nothing. Seamless. Effortless.
Then, with no hesitation, he lifts himself into a handstand.
And holds it.
Like gravity doesn't apply to him.
Like being upside down is just another part of his natural habitat.
And then—
Jordan and Kitty enter.
Both draped in striking swan motifs—Jordan in pure white, Kitty in deep, commanding black. The contrast alone is enough to steal the spotlight. Their costus? Breathtaking. Their makeup? To die for.
But what truly knocks the air out of the room?
They're en pointe.
Yeah. Let that sink in.
Together with Javi, the three move as one—dancing in perfect harmony. Lifting, supporting, catching each other like it's second nature. They weave in and out, bodies intertwining effortlessly, like an ever-flowing river that refuses to break.
Ballet. Contemporary. Contortion. Acrobatics.
Art forms rarely given space in the pop world are now front and center—not as gimmicks, not as novelty acts—but in their full, unapologetic glory.
And the legs?
Legs for days.
Arms?
Flawless.
Body?
Tea. Eating for breakfast, lunch, tea ti, dinner, and a midnight snack. Yes, you heard that right.
Necks and heads?
Not just fire—solid, liquid, gas, and plasma. All states. All power.
They extend and move with impossible elegance, carving picture-perfect lines into the air—each shape more breathtaking than the last.
As the official welco committee of the banquet—our trio of birds, Javi, Kitty, and Jordan—continue their performance, the spectacle rises to new heights.
Literally.
Another spotlight cuts in.
A single pole is revealed.
And with a dramatic flourish, Javi grips it—and spins.
Fast.
Precise.
Relentless.
Like his life depends on it.
It's strength. It's control. It's pure, jaw-dropping artistry. The kind that leaves people stunned, mouths hanging open, brains struggling to keep up.
And that's when it clicks.
Everyone watching—everyone—realizes this isn't just a performance.
This is sothing special.
The audience falls silent.
Normally, that would be a bad sign.
But not this ti.
This silence? It's reverence.
It's as if the entire stadium has been commanded—no, compelled—to give their full, undivided attention. Even cheering feels like it would break sothing sacred.
That's how powerful they are.
They don't just ask for your attention.
They take it.
And you give it willingly—because the mont you glance their way, even for a second?
You're done.
Hooked. Gone. No escape.
While Javi lives his absolute best life on that pole, Jordan and Kitty hit the audience with thirty-seven fouettés—
In perfect synchronicity.
No wobbles. No breaks. Just pure, controlled insanity.
This goes beyond choreography.
Beyond industry standards.
Beyond the status quo.
This isn't just K-pop. This isn't just idol culture.
This is art—raw, unfiltered, undeniable.
You don't even have to like it.
But you will look.
Because every eye in that stadium is locked on that stage.
And this?
This is only the beginning.
Because what cos next?
The banquet proper.
****
PS-
Happy 150th chapter everyone!
I sincerely thank all of you for your support, and sticking with .
I really and sincerely appreciate it.
Here's to more chapters! 🥂
User Comments
0 comments from readers