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lovesickeros · 9 months

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☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

#genshin impact #genshin impact yandere #genshin yandere #neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #yandere furina #yandere furina x reader #fic tag #pats neuvillette this noodle dragon can be so pathetic #aiming for pathetic desperate and slightly guilty. it gnaws at him knowing he's keeping you like a bird in a cage #esp if you react extremely negatively hes like a kicked puppy #not outwardly but internally hes a MESS. sobbing crying wailing #furina and neuvi sopping wet kittens u found in a cardboard box in an alley #vs arle thinking abt all the crimes shes going 2 commit in the process w/o an ounce of guilt. blackmail? check. kidnapping? check.#a little murder for flavor. as u can see im coping horribly w being practically snowed in rn i need 2 be put down #its like 4 degrees out rn (fahrenheit) and getting colder ueueueue i am dying..........#only thing keeping me going is my furinameow plushie coming. eventually. staying strong just for her.................#also needs 2 be mentioned all the stories r separate ksjfkhdsf #no not everyone in fontaine is yan and trying 2 kidnap sorry for getting ur hopes up..#yet #anyway u cant convince me arle isn't bribing (or just straight up forcing) her agents into doing stupid shit so she can “save” you #and make you owe her #two silly goofy little creatures vs the personification of gaslight gatekeep girlboss (heavy on the gaslight)#also split this up in 3 parts bc. lol. lmao. im not writing 9 characters at once goodbye #also all the masks do actually have significance i have an entire essay on why i gave each animal to specific characters okay

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favvn · 1 month

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Yes, I included the title card. Sturgeon deserves it. (And cutting a video clip on a phone is not fun to do.)

What to say about this clip? Where to start? There's so much to note so under the cut it goes!

1. "It is undignified for a woman to play servant to a man who is not hers," is the reasoning that Spock gives for throwing Nurse Chapel's soup and berating her for caring for him. Spock assumes he will be berated for his display and how he treated Nurse Chapel, yet this reasoning is interesting coming from him. Looking past the potential misogynistic reading (which I would argue against considering marriage vows use the idea of a couple serving one another as individuals within the marriage as a highlighting of their shared love and commitment, and Spock's specific phrasing--"to play servant to a man who is not hers"--connotes a reciprocal relationship; it's subtle, but it is there), Spock's objection to Nurse Chapel shows:

A denial of need. She was offering him soup to ensure he was eating. The hunger for food is essentially synonymous with the hunger that pon farr creates for Vulcans, at least, as I understand it. (I could go into more detail but that would be its own post if not redundant to the essay I've been working on.)

A denial of care and affection. Spock does not ask for help or care in this episode. In fact, he asks to be locked away later because he is ashamed of what the pon farr is doing to him. He hates how he is feeling, what he is saying and doing, and hates that he needs and possibly hates that he needs to be needed in return. This is not to say that I believe Vulcans are truly emotionless or have no care and affection or love in their society, but Spock is afraid of losing control of himself, so an emotion as strong as love--even from a coworker or friend--is to be pushed away during his pon farr.

His views on marriage. I'm repeating myself, but he understands it as servitude to one's spouse. This is not to say he expects his spouse to serve him (that is not divulged), but it follows from how marriage is tied to the pon farr. If the pon farr is the time when Vulcans lose control and become servants to biological need/impulse, then the marriage or challenge ceremony that is put in place to contain the madness of pon farr follows in that same line of servitude to need, love, and spouse. Add to this the fact that Vulcans select a mate to be bonded and betrothed to specifically for pon farr adds another layer of servitude to it. Assuming a Vulcan does not choose another mate (as Sarek surely did with Amanda), then the original mate that a Vulcan is bonded and betrothed to carries the significance of being a savior of sorts after their marriage. They become the way for a Vulcan to not descend into madness and die as a result of pon farr, and I would imagine that would carry an unspoken weight and feelings of being indebted to another with it, which one hopes would only reinforce their bond (this could be a great thing or a terrible thing depending on how one wishes to view it; to explore this further is beyond this post's scope, however).

2. Kirk's first and foremost concern is not Spock's emotional outburst, or the violence he threatened to McCoy--"You will cease to pry into my personal matters, Doctor, or I shall certainly break your neck"--or how he has not been eating, but that he is requesting a leave of absence! Such a thing is so out of the norm for Spock that this is Kirk's red flag. It speaks to how much Kirk accepts Spock's human half--the emotional outbursts, even the threat of violence--as a normal part of him.

The highlighting of how strange it is for Spock to take any sort of leave mirrors how much Spock fears losing control. He will not let loose for anything, not even to relax from the stresses of the job, and has gone so far as to claim he doesn't need the rest.

3. "Agreed, but that isn't the question, is it?" Kirk asks this in response to Spock's deflection about accrued leave time, but Spock might as well ask this of Kirk since Kirk's concern is not about Spock taking a leave, but what would drive him to finally take one.

Kirk understands Spock's boundaries so well, he knows asking Spock directly won't give him the answers he wants and will result in Spock immediately shutting him out, hence why Kirk asks if it is a problem in Spock's family. This is not an explicitly personal question, that is, Kirk is not directly asking if something is wrong with Spock, although he absolutely could given how Spock has been acting. There's still a degree of distance, an air of professionalism that Spock needs.

Kirk pushes Spock into a corner with his, "Since the shore facilities on Altair VI are excellent--" line to get a proper response from Spock and have Spock explicitly state, "I wish to take my leave on Vulcan."

Overall, this may as well be one of Kirk and Spock's chess games. This isn't to say that they are intending to deceive or manipulate the other, but they are hiding their intentions from each other and choosing their words with a maximum degree of care and precision.

4. Dialogue:

KIRK: Spock, I'm asking you: what's wrong

SPOCK: I need rest. I'm asking you to accept that answer.

Chewing drywall and sobbing. Kirk caves first and asks plainly about the elephant in the room, but Spock does not budge! He still does not say the truth of what is wrong with him, hence, "I'm asking you to accept that answer." What a thing to do, to reverse their status like this in a conversation. Kirk could technically order Spock to tell him as his outbursts could pose a harm to the safety of the crew (it took how many people to restrain Spock in Operation: Annihilate?), but he is trusting Spock and showing respect for their friendship and Spock himself by not doing so. Spock understands this, hence his words. This dialogue is an exchange of trust.

But! Spock's slight hesitation before saying "rest" suggests something else could have been said, but Spock retains his control and supplies that word. It's ironic in that rest is the one thing Spock cannot have on his own terms during the pon farr, but that it is also the pon farr itself that is a kind of rest period from Vulcan control, not that Spock would see it as such.

The use of rest is also noteworthy given the times Kirk has longed for his own period of rest in the company of a lover as the complete reversal of the demands of his captaincy. While Kirk's desire for rest and Spock's use of that word as his excuse for leave both follow from their statuses in Starfleet and the stresses of the job, there is a link to be had between the events of this episode and the desires of a certain Captain Kirk. (I can see the postcard now... Forget your cares in a roll on the sands of Vulcan!)

5. This scene: (pardon my action descriptions)

KIRK: I suppose most of us overlook the fact that even Vulcans aren't indestructible. [Smiles, and leaves.]

SPOCK: No. [Spock's hand shakes of its own accord. He clasps it with his other hand in order to still it.] We're not.

What a line from Kirk! What a reaction from Spock! What a scene in general!

Spock does not agree with him--does not admit to any perceived weakness or breaking of control--until Kirk leaves, until the door slides closed. And note Kirk's phrasing: Kirk could have pointed out that Spock is part human, after all, and is being too hard on himself in denying that half of his being, but Kirk doesn't. Kirk's statement applies to all Vulcans and he includes Spock fully in that category. It's an offering of sympathy as best as Kirk can give according to Spock's terms as a Vulcan. (Meaning he would hardly respond positively to a large display of emotion aimed at himself, if he even deigns to raise an eyebrow as a response. It goes back to that denial and rejection of care and affection, because to admit he needs it is to risk everything.)

6. Spock's hands in general, my god! He keeps his grip on the pen, never once dropping it or placing it on the desk during their conversation. He mostly holds the pen behind his back if not both hands clasped behind his back. The pen may as well be a dagger with how he hides it, although Kirk takes note of it after making his call to the Bridge.

I know there's a lot to be said about Vulcans and hands, if their hands are more sensitive than a human's, how they use their hands for mind melds, and so forth, but hands are just another part of the body. They enable the use of tools, the giving of care, the giving of pain, can be used as a means of communication, and so forth, and Spock must keep his hands to himself, cannot stop them from shaking, must hold something, either to keep them busy or to keep himself together.

#star trek tos #amok time #jim kirk #spock #ok. i think i have dissected this scene enough #although check out that staging: the desk literally seperates them and splits the screen in half at first. neat!#amok time notes

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