#fontaine is no exception to that regardless of the whys

[myjustice]

up untill her trial furina has seen & been exposed to some of the ugliest parts & sides of her people & she still loved them enough to continue with her task & now i can't stop thinking about it.

[phantomfallacy]

There’s not nearly enough analyses of Wriothesley and the panopticon that is Meropide.

Like, sure, the connection is there, but are your lines connecting to the right points? Because if you think Wriothesley’s office is the control tower and the Fortress is his all-knowing domain, I think you’re wrong.

Spoilers for his character quest and the Meropide world quest ahead, as well as various tidbits in mini quests:

The Unfinished Comedy reveals that there is a child who had been born in the prison, more or less a decade ago. More than enough time for Wriothesley to “discover” her. But he doesn’t. He is, without a doubt, an advocator of children, and would never allow her to stay in prison if he can help it. No matter what excuse there is, such as being busy with the reformation of the prison, the Fatui invasion, or the Wingalet construction, it doesn’t negate the fact that Wriothesley doesn’t know, or he would’ve acted.

The Beret Society as well, while coming under Wriothesley’s purview, has existed long enough to brainwash and break the spirits of the people who have joined. He had no evidence that Dougier had been breaking rules and infringing on human rights.

So no, Wriothesley, contrary to the Fortress of Meropide description, does not know everything that goes on in the Fortress, and he tells us so.

So then why does the description say otherwise?

The concept of the panopticon is that a single prison warden can maintain order because people will never be able to tell if his eyes are on them. As a result, they will behave, regardless of whether the warden is truly watching or not. Wriothesley tells us that he doesn’t have eyes and ears everywhere because we are not a prisoner. We do not need to be intimidated into behaving. Moreover, the Traveler seems to be an exception to everything like a harem protagonist so let’s discount “our” knowledge of Wriothesley’s claim.

What I think slaps the most though, is that his panopticon isn’t just the Fortress, but the Court of Fontaine as well.

It is mentioned that Wriothesley knows the ongoings of the overworld despite rarely coming up. The citizens of Fontaine see Meropide as this horrible place, even after Wriothesley’s reforms, and it’s not only because of prejudice (though that is most certainly the case), but because of his refusal to be perceived. He refuses Charlotte’s interviews, though being a Duke would most certainly put him in the eye of the public. This is a tentative maintenance of his public persona: that of a cruel and unfathomable man.

“The less people see of me, the happier they will be.”

If people understood that Meropide had welfare meals, stable work hours, and relatively accessible healthcare, why would they be incentivized to follow the law? Especially those of Fleuvre Cendre. But Meropide cannot possibly be that kind of haven. It is a prison, and forever should be—because it is not sustainable.

What humans cannot understand, they fear, and that works to keep the rest of Fontaine in check from committing crimes. No one wants to go to prison, no one wants to suffer, no one wants to see the Duke of Meropide. It’s embedded into the very society, so much that they have pop culture-like phrases for it.

The Duke’s office isn’t the control tower. The whole of Meropide Fortress is, and Fontaine is the “prison.”

There are other interpretations of course, such as the factor of more recent commentary on panopticons and how they bring up the topic of holding those in absolute power accountable. The warden at the center of the panopticon has absolute power, but how is he to be kept accountable?

It could be a hint about how Wriothesley isn’t as in control as he presents himself, and the way he rules is dependent on the people who keep him in check. After all, he says that as Duke, he must set an example of persecuting only after evidence has been found of a wrongdoing, otherwise he could have simply killed Dougier. However, that would certainly bring the Fortress down around him as people questioned his reputation as a fair ruler. (Cough bringing back my sword of Damocles bullshit here//shot).

Alternatively, Wriothesley himself could be a sword of Damocles upon Fontaine, evidenced by Neuvillette’s story quest, but I feel like that would be a Wriolette thread…

Without the source material confirming anything, we’re just playing with Schrödinger’s cat though. Just some food for thought.

Next time on Dragon Ball Z: my TED Talk on why the Fortress of Meropide is not called the Fortress of Atlantis because Wriothesley presents it as communism but it is totalitarian and why that works— (Kidding, I don’t wanna touch this with a ten foot pole pls don’t respond with political philosophies I will perish 🫠🫠🫠😵)

[ruershrimo]

#18 with platonic Brother-in-law Diluc! I think it would be funny if Traveller!Reader (jokingly) and Paimon (not so jokingly) kept asking for increasingly expensive things for Christmas. Whether Diluc delivers is up to you.

the christmas mix | #18- santa baby & #7- rocking around the christmas tree | brother-in-law!diluc and traveller!reader (platonic), husband!kaeya x traveller!reader (romantic)

event masterlist

features diluc (platonic), kaeya (romantic), traveller!reader

notes: hello honey, I really hope this is okay!! you were so sweet and I really liked your idea hahah it just took me a while. I’m so sorry if it’s not up to standard and wasn’t worth the wait (please let me know if you’d like me to write anything else in the future to compensate ;v;,,). regardless, I hope you have a wonderful christmas ❤️!!

warnings: none, really (except for no capitalisation, I suppose?)

summary: it seems like paimon doesn’t have any regard for diluc’s bank account (and why would she?), and that your husband and his brother will be having a good christmas this year, whether they’d like to admit it or not.

christmas in mondstadt, you’ve come to learn, is always a cheery, beautiful thing. there are stalls temporarily set up in springvale and the city itself, selling mulled dandelion wine, more varieties of wurst than there were dandelion seeds in teyvat, and all kinds of lovely little trinkets from traditionally made wooden toys to handmade christmas tree ornaments. it’s like the one time of the year when parents are taking their children all the way to dragonspine to play with the snow, the time when citizens are flocking to the cathedral to pray to their lord (who just so happens to be the drunkard singing christmas carols in the tavern), the time when families are gathering by the fireplace to chat and bask in each other’s presence or sitting by the table to enjoy a lovingly prepared meal at christmas gatherings, parties and the like. even some members of the knights of favonius are taking a break no matter how busy they are— especially jean, lord knows how much the lady needs a break— and you and your husband kaeya already have loads of preparations underway for christmas gatherings and the like. 

it was a lovely thing. 

“merry christmas,” your brother-in-law— diluc ragnvindr, the wine tycoon himself— greets you as you enter the tavern after a long day of commissions (it was to be expected, what with all the preparations needed to be made for a safe and pleasant christmas). 

kaeya waves at you as you sit by the counter, before you peck his cheek and tuck some few of his luscious strands of blue hair behind his ear with a “hello, love”. 

“merry christmas to you too,” you reply to diluc, “even if it’s only, like— a whole week away?” 

“well, christmas in mondstadt starts a month before the actual day itself,” kaeya jokes, “and I’m sure my dear brother would be pleased to gift you whatever christmas present you’d like, wouldn’t you, diluc?” 

diluc grimaces as if looking at the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. (it was funny.) “shouldn’t you be doing that for your own spouse, kaeya?” even the way he says his brother’s name sounds like he’s spitting it out, though you know he doesn’t truly despise him, and so you try your best to hold a snort. 

“oooh, ooh, master diluc!” paimon starts, rather discourteously (or maybe out of a lack of care for how the poor man would perceive her) waving her little arms about before his face, “maybe you can give us some really tasty, fancy food for christmas!” 

“hmm, expensive, too,” you join in, teasing him, “oh, please, diluc? or maybe even one of those new automobile machines they’re working on in fontaine…” 

it seems kaeya’s getting the hint— your hint, at least, since it seems like paimon is every bit serious about this unlike you and your husband. “well, you heard them, diluc—” 

“I am not getting you a car from fontaine of all places. and aren’t you already closely acquainted with the actual Chief Justice himself?” 

and on it went, with paimon naming every thing she could think of, and you (or your beloved kaeya) listing whatever else was more expensive than what she did as if you were raising the price at an auction— yet one difference this had from an actual auction was that instead of the buyers paying for the increasingly costly dishes, gifts and goods, it was poor master diluc instead. 

and your brother-in-law, though annoyed, was never fazed by the prices themselves and kept at the empty glasses he had been cleaning. 

—

“do you think he’ll actually get any of what we said we wanted?” you ask as the two you walk out the tavern, a dozed-off paimon in your arms. 

“I don’t think so,” kaeya begins, “but knowing him… well, let’s just say that whatever he decides to do will be interesting, to say the least.” 

“uh-huh,” you reply, raising a brow. 

—

there’s music playing from the gramophone, a jolly tune that kaeya hums as the fireplace crackles in tune with in delight. 

“kaeya,” you call. he stops mid-hum, setting down the cutlery on the table. he gets up immediately, like a pet to its owner’s voice, and suddenly you’re giggling fondly at the thought without having noticed it. 

“yes?” from behind his arms circle you like a warm, snug blanket, luscious and long strands of beautiful blue tickling your back and the nape of your neck, and his hand on your waist. 

“I think that madman really did it,” you grin, gesturing to the bottom of the ornately decorated (courtesy of both yours and kaeya’s ideas for where to place each and every ornament) christmas tree, and each of the gifts below them (from how you know what each one is, you’re quite sure he’s not the best gift-wrapper around, but definitely the wealthiest): a cutting-edge thirty-million-mora watch from fontaine, bespoke paimon-sized garments made from liyuean materials and handmade by inazuman tailors, and even a limited-edition TCG card yet to be fully released to the public (you know cyno would be punching the air right now if he knew). “or, at least, he tried to get some, even though some of the wishes we brought up were almost unfulfillable. he tried to get most of them.” 

“well I suppose we ought to just wait for him to come, if he’ll even visit,” kaeya says. 

“wonder how he even snuck it all here in the first place,” you jest, though you suppose the darknight hero had temporarily done some christmas duties in santa’s stead the night before, “and I’m sure that he’ll come,” you finish, pecking your husband on the cheek. 

— 

“merry christmas,” diluc says as he walks through the door, and although it’s late and most of the others have left, the clock has yet to strike midnight and it’s still christmas night. 

“and a happy christmas to you too, diluc,” kaeya greets, “and I was surprised you actually delivered. you wouldn’t happen to just be fooling us with the wrapping paper, would you?” 

“do you want me to have done so?” 

pft— even after regaining some of what they had before they bore the titles of estranged brothers, your husband was still absolutely incorrigible. (it was really funny, especially now that you knew each word they spoke to the other had less hate and more love than the last; that you knew it was more of playful jesting against a thoroughly annoyed sigh instead of vestiges of a duel many, many years ago.) 

but still. poor old master diluc, having to deal with his brother and his spouse, as well as the borderline unmeetable demands of said brother’s spouse’s long-time travelling companion. 

“haha! I was just joking, diluc. but thank you, for this, I suppose.” 

“mhm,” you add, “you should’ve seen paimon’s face when she saw the wrapping— actually, we were waiting for you to come so that we could open all of the presents together, right in front of the person who’d gotten them for us. 

“paimon!” you call, directing your voice to the rooms above you and up the stairs, “diluc’s here.” 

then she floats down, and, like a child, wags her legs about excitedly. “ooh, paimon was so excited for this!” 

so the four of you open the gifts together, untangling the poorly-tied ribbons (again, you’re sure diluc must have tried his best, and done so on his own, too) and tearing away at the wrapping paper. paimon squeals in delight with each gift opened, and kaeya whips out a kamera for a picture of the four of you. 

—

“merry christmas, diluc,” kaeya says, handing him the gift, “from me to you.” 

—

“grape juice, huh?” 

“of course. he likes it, after all,” kaeya answered as he sat by the christmas tree, wrapping paper, scissors and tape scattered all over the floor, and then he pointed to the leather-wrapped object beside him, “but this makes everything better.”

“a book? it looks beautiful,” you commented. 

“no, a photo album. to capture memories we used to store old mementoes and photos in old boxes, but now that kameras are getting more and more common than ever, I decided to get one like this. see?” he grinned, displaying its opened pages before you, “it has these cases to protect and preserve the photos inside.” 

“oh, kaeya,” you kissed his cheek, “it’s wonderful. I’m sure he’ll love it.” 

event taglist (please send an ask if you’d like to be added!):

wishing everyone a happy christmas ❤️!

[thehellsystem]

TELL ME ABOUT UR OCS

GIGGLES Sosososo. Picture Hugo. Not as an image but like, as a personality. Give him so much money. THAT is Julian. An asshole with access to an ungodly amount of money. I created him at age ELEVEN so his backstory is a stew I have been brewing for five years. He has gained several scars since then, lost a leg, and undyed his hair. He also lost a pair of wings. He has existed in several universes. In DND, he's a tiefling bard. Who doesn't like to sing. Or play music. He has no idea why he is a bard, he just is. He's also a filthy rich prince. In Genshin Impact, he's a lawyer from Fontaine who sides WHOLEHEARTEDLY with Furina regardless of her fucked up ideology and obvious incompentence. In a modern au he's just. A law student. He's so tired. He spends his days studying the law and being a slut. He wakes up every day and does nothing but law and slut. And post about white girl shit on Instagram. He was a child actor once. In the bad direction. In all of these universes, he gets a fat sum of money from his dad just being rich. So he's filthy rich. My BOYFRIEND has an oc named Kiran and they are kissing. Right now. They have three kids in every universe. There is no universe where they are not sending each other death threats with little hearts at the end. He has FANGS and his boyfriend has tusks so when they kiss it's just a constant struggle of trying not to hit each other with their teeth. He IS the beauty standard. That is his y/n trait. I made him a beautiful gay twink and haven't ever looked back. He is a white man with brown hair and blue/purple eyes, women LOVE him and I can't do anything about it. I didn't even write this out. It just happened one day. He's the actor that acted in one of your childhood movies so you look him up to see what he looks like now and you go "Oh DAMN" He's not even an asshole on purpose, he just has no idea how anything ever works. He is the sheltered rich kid ever. His husband before they were husbands told him he played music in taverns for money and he was like "Well why don't you just... get money???" I've been obsessed with him for five years straight. One time he dated a pumpkin named Jack. He went from dating a pumpkin to dating a beautiful cub who has enough body to compress Julian inside of him. Vaccuum seal his ass. HE IS MISSING A LEG. Except in the dnd universe, where he just has a curse on his leg so he limps around like a wet cat. He did not tell his husband this until they were dating and he just casually took off his leg and his husband was like "ARE YOU OKAY???" He is the autistic gifted kid ever. He is a horsegirl. He's a necromancer who keeps reviving his horse from the dead because he loves his horse. He killed a man one time and the other party members were like "Are you gonna bring him back?" and he was like "...no I didn't like him." Unimportant to his entire backstory but in the first draft his mom threw him out a window. And that was kinda funny. But I had to take it out because I couldn't take him seriously with the knowledge that his mom threw him out a window.

[thomine]

floating under pressure

freminet x reader, 1.4k words

you reluctantly return to a place that does little to ease the tension in your shoulders or your grit. however, you chance upon someone who wants to do just that—even after an awkward first impression.

teen & up, misunderstanding (being dragged into the sea by a water nymph), vague descriptions of drowning, reader is an overworked researcher, not proofread

notes: work tag :: this fic vaguely deals with topics like suicide & mental health

The shores that kiss the remnants of Fontaine's long-lost prestigious institution is uninviting. You have never—and will never—return, which is why you're there, footprints sinking into the sands. Your research partner will notice you're gone, and perhaps he is already searching for you not out of concern or worry, but out of fear for the consequences of you disappearing.

You sit on a rock with a smooth surface and watch as the sun sets. Back at the lab, it was constant work with little yields. It's depressing to be there with a looming reminder of failure. The ruins of the research institution does not quell your fatigue, but the last thing you want to be is found so—against your nagging heart—you are here.

Alone.

At least, until someone appears in your peripheral. The dimming sky makes it hard to make out who it is, but the silhouette is clear. It's not a monster, just a person. A boy, and he trudges towards the waves, as if dragged by a heavy heart.

You pay no attention to him as he does not to you. His body submerges, and so do you in your thoughts, except you're dragged out of your pitiful reverie when you're alone for a minute longer than you thought.

Could he...

As you get up from your rock, you near the area you last saw the boy and gulp. Steambird stories of boys lured by Water Imps resurface in your memories. As a scientist, you aren't one to care for these tales, but the reality of the situation is grim: if you don't jump now, regardless of his reasons for entering the waters, another boy will be in the papers.

Splash!

It's hard to see so you swim faster knowing this is as much light as you can get. The lack of practice has made your body foreign in water, and before you know it, the coldness that bothered you as you dive coddles you in a chilling numbness.

When you wake, the glaring white ceiling back at the lab is not what greets you. Instead, it's a sky full of stars. Your hand lifts itself, sold by the illusion that if you just try to reach it, you'll find one cupped in your hands...

... Only to have a face break that immersion.

Pale blonde hair with a fringe covering his left light blue eye and a small frown that does little to make him any less interesting to stare at. Do the people of Fontaine look this gentle? How long have you been cooped up in your white room?

"Um..." the boy speaks. You hold your breath. Even his voice is soft as his features. "Are you alright?"

"I... I'm fine," you say as you sit upright, still a little giddy from what seems like a crazy dream, although the boy's hand behind your back helps tremendously. "What am I doing here…”

"You... you weren't going to... try something regrettable, were you?"

And then it hits you. The walk down the shore, the silhouette, cold waters. It is not a dream. When you look behind you, the ghastly research institution stands undeterred, and you remember what you're running from.

"There was someone else...!" You get on your feet. "I wasn't the only one who was in the waters. There was someone else. You must save him too."

Your saviour jumps at your loud voice, to which you're quick to apologise. Despite your attempts to calmly display the urgency of the situation—through hand gestures and a pleading expression instead of shouting—he remains still.

"If you're not going to, then I will—"

"Wait."

You're pulled back by his hands against your wrist, head the lowest you've seen as if he's bowing.

"I'm sorry for troubling you but there's no need to save the boy. There might have been a misunderstanding."

"Are you saying..." You squint your eyes, deciphering his features lighted by the fire he set up to match with your faint recollection of the silhouette across the beach. You’re stumped, unable to solve this puzzle, but as you turn left and right, there is no one else around.

"Why did you do that? I thought you were going to...” You look at him. He returns with a concerned gaze, as if you’re the one who should be questioned. You are the one that almost drowned, and he is perfectly fine.

“Well, I should be sorry—" you laugh awkwardly "I'm probably just really stressed. There was the failed specimen, and then my research partner kept insisting that he was right when the results weren't conclusive, and—and—"

Before you know it, your eyes become an ocean of emotions. You let out a sob before biting your lip to prevent anymore from escaping, then fall to the ground on your knees.

You are a scientist, yet you jumped to conclusions. How embarrassing. How shameful. Is this why everything you've done so far failed?

The boy pats your back with uncertainty.

"Thank you," you say in response to his touch as well as the tissue you don't quite know where is from. You blow your nose and try to take deep breathes to calm down. He seems flustered, so you don't want to weigh him any more.

“This isn't very professional of me. I should get going too, or else I'll just make the problem worse. I disturbed you didn't I? I'm so sorry,” you say.

He seems reluctant to answer.

"I still have things to do, but I want to help. You tried to help me too."

You croak a laugh, shaking your head.

"Tried."

Silence falls between you and him as you sniffle.

"Do you want to know?" he asks.

You raise your head, a meek laugh coming out of your lungs to fill up the awkwardness. He is not oblivious to it, and so his eyes once again avoid yours. It feels like he wants to run away too.

"Why I entered the waters,” he says at your confusion.

No more jumping to conclusions, you decide.

"Yes, if you'll show me." You stand, and not long you find your ankles graced by the tickles of rolling waves. The boy is far in front of you, already swimming.

"Are you scared?" He asks, and you almost miss his question if not for how quiet the night is.

"I don't know. Is there a reason to be here?" You turn back and see the lonesome tower with its iconic cubes hanging in the air. When you took up the research offer, you believed it would quench your thirst to understand the secrets behind its disaster. After consecutive failed attempts with a fast approaching deadline, you are starting to regret even trying.

There should be no reason to return, not a single spec of beauty to admire of the desolate institution. It only serves as a sign of pride and fallacy, one which lured you to dig a hole in hopes to find treasure except you end up in your grave.

When you look at Freminet after your tiny adventure down miserable memory lane, he looks disappointed. It's the same face you'll encounter if you report with no results, which propels you to take a step deeper as you're determined to handle only one disappointed individual—there is no room for another.

As you near him, he passes you a diving helmet, which you clumsily place on your shoulders. After he inspects it, he dives and you follow closely.

It's dark. You're reminded of the you in the same waters prior and your breath quickens. It echoes in your ears thanks to your helmet and becomes a reminder you're no longer alone.

Deeper and deeper you go. The glow on Freminet's diving suit is like a star in the night sky which you keep your eyes fixed on.

Soon, you find light. It's attached to some ancient ruin which Freminet swims into. You panic at first, unsure if it's safe, but when he pokes his head out, you chose to believe someone who looks that innocent.

Slowly, you swim towards him. He guides you deeper through turns and mechanisms. He's quick, hinting this isn't the first time he's been here.

Soon, you swim through an arch of a submerged dilapidated building. You recognise the design of the pillars, a signature for the ruined research institute. The place has brightened due to a clearing up front, and you see little critters waddle through the waters around you.

Past the arch is a large circular opening over head, its location perfectly below the moon that shines its calming light. Freminet remains underwater, basking at the sight of the moon. He looks at peace, a state you wish to reach so you do the same and lay on your back and facing the open sky.

You're floating, staring at the stars that beckon you despite the helmet distorting your view of them just a little. In fact, the water grants them a greater glow, making them feel so close to the point you believe you don't have to reach out to them.

You are among them.

You lost count how long you've stayed just staring, but Freminet taps your shoulder and you understand it is time.

When you resurface, you take out your helmet.

Freminet is smiling, and it's only then you realise you are too.

author's note: this story is inspired by 1/8 out of gravity, by produce noa.

similar to the idea in 1/8 out of gravity, where the singer takes their beloved who is burdened and tired, to someplace else to release some steam, freminet takes reader underwater :) it's quite funny though because the deeper you go, the more pressure you feel, actually, so i added a bit of the 'floating' feeling to sort of give the same idea as being in space, where gravity is 1/8, lol.

[callmeadin]

scaramouche x gn!reader

this is entirely self-indulgent, and i just wanted some comfort but this may have become fluff to possible angst haha. anyways, no warnings really. 

- fluff, angst, not proofread

• you remember when you first met him; you were timid and too intimidated while he didn't acknowledge your existence.

• well, that wasn't truly your first meeting

• that was just the first time you saw him

• but regardless; you wanted to tell him that he was pretty!

• even if he was being mean to his subordinates—

• when you two did finally meet properly, it was to the courtesy of la signora, your aunt(?)

• scaramouche was quite inconsiderate, much like with everyone else

• you never did get to express to him that he had a pretty face;

• you barely spoke a word, while he continued to be snarky

• until you were just having one of the worst days in your life, not being in the mood for anything

• you snapped at him

• he was surprised, yes, but then from there, it became an enemies trope

• constantly picking and arguing with each other after that, there were small cracks of peace

====

as he was sitting in his office, the quietness wafted through the open window showing that neither him or you wished to interrupt it. the soft thumping of your feet kicking against his desk never bothered him. neither did you sitting on his desk, facing away from him and drawing whatever it was you were drawing. he's spotted a few of your sketches, and he has to admit that you are good. he knows talent when he sees it.

slowly, a single thought had crept into his mind as a breeze came through. you've never touched him. now, don't get him wrong! it's not like he cares, it was just a small thing he noticed about you. actually, now that he's thinking about it, you don't seem to touch anyone except for la signora. he wonders why. wait, she isn't the only one scaramouche has witnessed you touching: viktor, arlecchino, and perhaps more that he doesn't know. he knows that you only act the way you do towards him is because of him. he's seen how you act to the others; nice and excited, showing other people your drawings, and just overall chatting about some of your interests. scaramouche wants to ask why you don't do that with him, but he thinks himself an utter fool for thinki—

"whatcha thinking about that's so important to stop working on your paperwork?" your voice cuts sharply through the silence, bringing scaramouche back from going any further down that path of thought. he almost thanks you for such a thing, though he doesn't since that might make it worse. he didn't notice that he stopped scribbling.

"what i was thinking is none of your concern," he spits out. he didn't mean for his voice to be quiet, but the damage was already done. when you didn't respond; when the silence came back, he knew something had changed between you two, though he couldn't figure out what.

====

• as your relationship with the balladeer advanced, the arguing became bickering

• your side became more lighthearted, soft, playful

• scaramouche still seemed to be rude and degrading, though there was always a lilt to his voice that indicated otherwise and his eyes displayed mirth

• soon, you started to talk about your days and interests

• he found out that you truly enjoy drawing and painting, and that you are one of the few who loves the frigid cold of sneznhya

• he found out that there were some food textures that you couldn't stand, and that there were certain fabrics that you couldn't come into contact with

• scaramouche finds all of these little kinks of yours odd, and when he offhandly mentioned it to la signora, she explained that certain humans can't feel, eat, or listen to certain things simply because their brain told them it was bad

• he still didn't quite understand

• however, he respected it

• the first time you did initiate contact with him, however

====

scaramouche had just come back from a mission in fontaine, and was finished talking to one of his subordinates. his mind was occupied with his next, inazuma, and obtaining his mother's gnosis. he was going to become what he couldn't before. he was going to betray the fatui. he was going to betray the tsaritsa. he was going to become a god, finally. he's so close. and he'll be able to show her. show her that he can be more than a puppet—

a weight came crashing down on his back as arms tightly wrapped around his neck, making scaramouche stumble but not fall. he never heard his name being yelled out as he was too isolated in his thoughts. he was about to turn around to give his fury to whoever had dared to touch him, when your voice finally came through.

"scara! holy shit look! i've been waiting for you to come back to show you this! look look look," he couldn't make himself move while you were attached to him, for whatever reason that was, until your weight vanished. only then did he allow himself to turn around and face you, but there was a lingering burn where you had touched him.

and there you were, standing half a foot away from him, jumping up and down with something cupped in your hands. you had looked ecstatic, excited, happy. your smile was forced to ingrain itself in scaramouche's mind simply because of how bright it was. you were saying something, giggling and squealing. the sound of your voice, he decided, was the most pleasant thing he's ever listened to. he wasn't aware of how influential your joyfulness was.

unaware, his lips formed a soft smile for the first time in centuries. for the first time, his posture relaxed. for the first time, his eyes softened when looking at you. he tuned back into what you were saying when you pushed your hands forward, nearly touching his chest(please). he looked down, and in your hands was a dendro vision. he felt his mouth widen just a little more,

'it suits you, y/n.'

no one else was around, no one dared to eavesdrop on you two.

he wanted to feel you again, he wants to hear you giggle again, he wants to hear your voice again.

he was going to betray you.

[after-witch]

A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: A Simple Cup of Tea [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes...

Word Count: 1875

Notes: yandere, forced marriage, abuse, bondage, NSFW 

Poised.

You must be poised. Every movement, every gesture, must embody a quiet grace. Your face must be pleasant, without seeming garishly joyous. Your voice must be soft, melodic, clear; yet loud enough to be heard without being required to repeat yourself. 

You must know how to keep a conversation going smoothly, like water in a stream, yet understand when to keep silent. You must know all of these things and so much more, and act on them at all times in the proper degree; all in order to avoid embarrass yourself and more importantly, embarrassing your husband.

In other words, you must be perfect.

And you try--you have to try, because what other choice does Scaramouche leave you?--but it’s difficult. You were never born for this stifled life he’s pushed you into, for a life spent mostly within the walls of his home or at most, behind the high, impenetrable walls of the courtyard.

A life draped in rich clothing, overseeing fine details of the estate that make your head spin. How many bags of this or that must be ordered per week? When should the bedding in that room be washed? What is the appropriate amount of money to put in a servant’s purse when sending them to the market? Questions you never imagined yourself asking yourself, which now fill your day with a gilded tedium.

There’s a deceptive leisure lurking underneath everything here. True, you no longer have to travel far and wide, selling your family’s wares from heavy baskets carried on your back; you no longer have to search the edges of the forest for edible plants to toss into boiling broth on days when you could not afford meat. You never want for food (unless he takes your dinner away as punishment) and any comfort you could need is within reach, so long as you’re behaving.

But you are on edge, always. Preparing yourself for another pitfall that might open up beneath your feet, and always looking for ways to improve yourself. Or at least ways to avoid earning your husband’s sharp disapproval. Regardless of your efforts, you have been on the wrong end of a harsh insult, a slap, a pinch, a cane, more times than you care to count.

Be prepared, be poised, be perfect. It’s the mantra you repeat to yourself every morning.

The mantra you repeated to yourself this particular morning, in preparation for a meeting he insisted you attend. A meeting which apparently required your finely-tuned skills in pleasing conversation and your much-practiced ability to “pour a passable cup of tea.”

Anyone else might assume it was meant to be an insult, but your time with Scaramouche has led to you to understand that the slightest praise towards you, while minuscule to others, was something you were meant to fall on your knees and thank him for. Sometimes literally, depending on his mood.

Why he wanted you to pour tea for some delegates from Fontaine, and what their increasing presence in the area really meant, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t your place to ask him, and the memory of recent stinging pain on your backside keeps you from feeling even remotely tempted to broach the subject.

So here you are. Dressed elegantly, but not garishly, as is proper for his wife. With a tea pot in your hand and perfectly arranged cups and the ghost of a pleasing smile on your face. Charming words drip from your lips, pleasantries, pleasantries, pleasantries--the type of words Scaramouche loathes yet drums into you all the same.

Prepared, poised, perfect.

Except for the slight tremble of your hands.

Except for the uncomfortable hitch in your breath as you speak.

Except for the fact that there are ropes tied snugly around your breasts, wrapping around your chest and criss-crossing between your breasts with an uncomfortable pressure, all hidden underneath the outfit he’d chosen for you that afternoon.

You’d balked, first--then begged. Begged not to be humiliated like this. What if someone sees? What will people say? You’d even tried to appeal to his pride, suggesting that if you couldn’t fully concentrate on your duties, well, how would that reflect on him?

All that earned you was a glint of a smirk and a tug as he knotted the rope encircling your breasts, making it even tighter than before. His final threat at your continued pleading--”I can always make you go out in nothing but the ropes”--finally shut you up.

And so, here you are. Face hot with shame and something more, silently pleading that your clothing won’t somehow shift and reveal the secret underneath. Despite the layers covering you, you still feel naked, exposed. As if the people indulging in polite conversation can see right through you, see the way your breasts are framed by the itchy ropes. See the way your body is responding to such a total humiliation. 

It’s not just the chafing rope that bothers you. It’s the pressure itself. It feels… no, you don’t want to think about how it feels.

Instead, you hone your focus in on the task at hand. Pouring the tea, a nice subtle blend made with Violetgrass flowers. A previous round of guests from Fontaine had enjoyed it so well that Scaramouche had you tell the teashop to start stocking up for future visits.

You wish you could hide the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you pour the last cup of tea for a woman whose name you regrettably can’t remember. You normally repeat their names over and over in your head, lest you forget and endure Scaramouche’s sharp tongue (if not his cane) later on; but your predicament made it impossible to keep track of new information.

You might be able to enjoy the tea, enjoy the facsimile of polite conversation weaving its way around the table, if only you weren’t so distracted by the tightness, the chafing, the undeniable fact that--oh Archons above, that all of this was making your nipples humiliatingly hard underneath your clothing.

“Do you agree, wife?”

All eyes glance at you. Whatever Scaramouche just said had clearly be addressed to you, only you were too distracted to notice.

In the moments that you’re left half-gaping, mentally groping to somehow pull his previous words out from the ether, his hand snakes around your waist. You feel his fingers on the outside of the soft fabric, searching until they find their intended target--the knot--and tugging hard to tighten it further.

You gasp, your body lurching upward and forward at the sudden sensation of your breasts being squeezed, and the tea pot you’re still holding drops to the table. Time seems to slow to a thick crawl, and you can see the pot is not cracked, but tipped over, hot tea spilling onto the table underneath with abandon.

The sight of the dark brown stain spreading, trickling underneath saucers and cups, leaves you helpless until you force your shaking hands to grab the pot and set it back up on the table.

“I, I--” you start to stutter something. An apology? An explanation? But the constricting ropes and the dawning realization that you have just committed an extensive social faux pas--in front of guests, no less--leaves you helplessly unable to speak.

The guests, for their part, look suitably uncomfortable. The woman whose name you can’t remember is holding onto her cup, saving it from being intercepted by the trickling tea. You don’t know whether their looks are because of your embarrassing display or because they know your husband’s reputation, and feel pity for you. Perhaps a bit of both.

Scaramouche’s voice cuts through the tension, though it does nothing to lessen it.

“I apologize for my wife’s clumsiness,” he says. “I should have realized that she wasn’t up to the apparently complex task of serving tea.” His voice is dripping with condescension, making more heat rise to your cheeks.

Humiliation does not begin to describe what you feel as he gently--public appearances, you think--takes your arm and stands, bringing you with him.

“Perhaps you are ill.” He looks you up and down, faux-concern written all over his face. But you know what he’s really thinking about, as his eyes linger on your chest for a fraction longer than they should.

You swallow hard, and do your best to nod. It doesn’t take any effort to look ashamed at what’s transpired.

“I--I have been feeling unwell,” you say, making sure to project loud enough for the audience he’s curated for you. “I may be too tired.”

He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe your silliness. A silly, silly wife--that’s what you are. Never mind that it’s all his fault. Never mind that he chose to do this to you, and chose to do it in front of guests. 

A small, bitter part of you resents the guests for being there at all, resents the fact that they probably know you’re an unwilling ornament to the Harbringer’s obsession but do nothing about it.

But what good does resenting them do, when it won’t change your fate?

He takes your hand and gives it a pat, each touch patronizing to the core.

“Apologize to our guests and go rest. And send someone more capable to clean up your mess.”

You have to apologize for the fact that you spilled tea due to his decision to engage in some perverse bondage in a public fashion. You have to apologize for the fact that he deliberately made you do it, too, knowing how you might react when he pulled the rope.

It’s horrible and humiliating and unfair. 

But you do it anyway.

Turning towards the guests, gaze downcast with shame, you force out an apology; keeping your voice soft and melodic and clear, as expected.

Then you retreat as calmly as possible, feeling everyone’s gaze--but especially his--on your back as you leave. You catch the eye of the nearest servant as you make your way back to the bedroom, laying out the quickest version of events and not relishing the look of anxiety that crosses their features at the thought of dealing with Scaramouche after such an apparent social travesty.

But you only have enough energy to consider your own anxieties, so you continue on without thinking more about them.

Walking only seems to make the feeling of constriction worse, and you bite down on your lip as your sensitive nipples begin rubbing against the fabric with every step. It feels good, it feels bad--whatever it is, it’s all too much, and you want nothing more to cut off the ropes and hide until the morning.

Not that you have the courage to risk such an endeavor.

You don’t feel any calmer by the time you reach your shared bedroom, but at least your humiliation is a private one, now. And you can rest, at least until he’s finished for the evening. For a moment, you simply stand still, bringing your arm across your chest and pressing to provide some pressure, some relief, to your sensitive breasts. 

There’s an undeniable twist in your stomach when your arms brush against your nipples, and you hate it, and you love it, and you feel just as sick and perverse as he is when you slide a hand inside your clothing and give one aching nipple a pinch. You rub your legs together and ah, there it is--the pleasurable tingling and beginnings of wetness, and well, why not give yourself some pleasure, you think; why not give yourself something good and pleasant before he comes in and ruins everything with whatever sick punishment he’s concocting? 

It’s not until you make to curl up on the large bed, eager to relive the tension building inside you, that you see the scroll wrapped up on the pillow. With a sense of justifiable dread building in your stomach, you sit, and unfurl it. 

The words are written in Scaramouche’s familiar handwriting:

“Take off your clothes. Lay down and spread your legs on the bed until I return. Don’t touch yourself. I will know if you haven’t followed my instructions.”

Bastard, you think. As if your humiliation today wasn’t strong enough. Your hands go to undue the fastenings keeping your clothes together, and the first hints of bare skin leave you with anticipatory goosebumps. How long would you be expected to be on the bed, presenting yourself for his apparent pleasure? 

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

But--well. At least he didn’t tell you to bend over the caning stool again.

[cardboard-aliens]

BaS was the worst thing to happen to the franchise. Its a murder in disguise. "Oh look at Rapture! You see it before it was terrible! So pretty! Please turn a blind eye to this mary sue as we make everything about her"

Franchise murder at it's finest. Tying all of the world building in a noose around Elizabeth's neck and then sinking her to the bottom of the ocean.

But even ignoring Elizabeth for the moment, BaS Rapture doesn't feel like the Rapture from the previous games! As they try to merge the games with Infinite the immersion falls apart, adding in the Need to Know Stations and the Pneumo Lines along with matching Air Grabbers makes it feel off- and then you consider how much bigger they had to make the levels to accommodate for the Air Grabbers so the city becomes much more vertical and much less cramped, unlike the Rapture of previous games- Market Street in BaS is SO much taller than the Welcome Center in BS1 its ABSURD

AND THEN, there's the fact BaS Rapture draws the later Art Deco phase of Streamline Moderne instead of the earlier style in the 20s. It makes the areas you visit in BaS feel complety divorced from the city of the first two games.

Then we get to watch Elizabeth get to be the most special character in the entire franchise- she gets to meet every big name from the first game regardless of how little sense it makes (except the named female characters 🤔) Elizabeth is just SO good at singing Cohen wants her to work for him!!! (She gets a poster and a nickname for the public- like WHY. ALSO- why is Cohen running a child trafficking ring in the first place. And why would you go to Cohen to get into places Ryan didn't want people going. Maybe you should go talk to the left over smugglers like Peach Wilkins) She's so smart Atlas needs her to start the riots for him!!! She's gets to bond the Sisters and big Daddy's for Suchong cause's he's too stupid too!!! (Funny how they take our one Korean Character's achievement and have a white man in another dimension 40 years before figure it out while calling Suchong slurs. Totally not racist) Ryan thinks she's so special he wants to give her a job!!! (Strange, I thought Ryan started up hangings for contact with the surface and sent people to prison out of fear they were spies) Fontaine is an idiot so Elizabeth has to get him WYK!!!

She meets every big name from the first game, and gets to out "smart" them by pointing out the obvious while stealing their defining character moments. All while constantly beating her up and throwing her a pity party to tell us how hard her life is. But then you compare her to Jack, Delta, Eleanor, The sisters Big and Small, the people in Shantytown who were all suffering far worse than Elizabeth in her tower and she just comes off as immensely privileged- and that's before we have to watch her burn a child alive for revenge and then abandon said child. They make her SUCH a flawed character and then refuse to explore her faults instead having the story tell her shes so perfect and smart and special as every character bows before her.

Like as if them oversexualizing her and portraying her as weak as they beat her up constantly wasn't bad enough they force her into a story she didn't need to be a part of so crudely it brings the other games down with it. No ONE was asking the questions BaS wanted to answer, and Elizabeth should've gotten her own DLC in a setting separate from the previous games to explore her character. There the narrative can revolve around her because it could've been BUILT around her instead of breaking the rules of a preexisting setting to work around her and changing her to fit into those broken rules (I mean she WAS OP in Infinite- since they made sure not to explain Elizabeth's abilities so they could be plot convenience. They still ARE plot convenience in BaS, but the tools are weaker ones then she had in Infinite).

Elizabeth needed a better writer than Ken- she's clearly just an embodiment of traits he thinks are cool and hot while forgetting to actually make her a compelling character- her base character concept is one i LIKE, being isolated and locked away. Wanting more out of life then what you've got, but the execution is just so poor as her privileges shows in every moment and the narrative never challenges her on it and instead pats her on the back and tells her she's right.

[closedcoffins]

GENSHIN VERSE: CLAIRE STANFIELD - VOICELINES.

Hello: The name’s Felix Walken, handyman. Hahaha, I’m joking! Since we’ll be working together, you can call me Claire.

Chat - Work: Just leave it to me; I never leave a job unfinished.

Chat - Rest: There’s no harm in restin’ for a bit if you’ve got me around! … Of course, I am gonna get a little bored if we just stand around like this.

Chat - Destruction: There’s no better way to make sure the job’s well done than leaving no trace of the problem.

When It Rains: During showers like this, it’s pretty easy to get rid of any evidence of what you’ve been doing. Huh? What do I mean by that? … Well, I guess it’s best you don’t know.

When It Snows: That’s really somethin’, isn’t it! When I was a kid, it snowed all the time… ‘Course, that was before we left Snezhnaya.

When The Sun Is Out: What a perfect day! This is just another strike to my long list of reasons the world exists for my convenience.

Good Morning: I usually go to sleep around this time, but I decided to make an exception for our travels today. So, how’re you feeling? Ready to face my world?

Good Afternoon: Tired already? Haha, I’m just getting warmed up. With any luck, something exciting will happen later.

Good Evening: I usually get up around this time, so I’m used to the hustle and bustle dying down. It’s more convenient to do your work at night when no one’s around to bother you, right?

Good Night: Hahaha, goin’ to bed already? You should stay up with me on one ‘a my jobs someday! 

About Claire - Vino: Why do people call me Vino? To tell you the truth, I’ve really got no idea. I didn’t come up with it myself, you know. Not that I’m complaining; it’s good to have a cool nickname, right?

About Us - Partners In Crime: Looks like you’re stuck with me for now! Not that I mind, of course. We make a pretty good team.

About Us - Loyalty: Even if someone has it out for you, I promise I won’t go after you. Since we’re friends, and everything. But, if my family wants you gone… That’d be a way different story, so try not to cross them, alright?

About Us - Strength: You’re not bad, but you could never, ever be stronger than me. It’s just impossible, but it’s nice that you’re trying!

About the Vision: Oh, I don’t have a vision. You didn’t know? It’s not that I don’t have any ambitions, but I actually just don’t need one. The world is mine, after all. If I really decided I wanted one, I’d probably get one then and there.

Something to Share: The railroad in Fontaine is probably one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen. I’m a conductor, so you should visit me on the job sometime! …You’re concerned about the Rail Tracer? Hahaha, you don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to that.

Interesting Things: The actual myth about the Rail Tracer goes like this: If you speak about it on a train at night, it will appear to devour all the passengers one by one, leaving an empty train to arrive at the station after the sun rises. The only way to stop it is to believe in it wholeheartedly, but most people don’t know about that part of the story. That’s probably why they’re so scared even though they fully believe in it.

About Luck: If you happen to meet Luck, tell him I said hi! Since both of us travel a lot, I don’t see him as often as I’d like to. I like to think I get on the best with him out of my brothers. Hahaha, what’s that look for? Rest assured, he’s nothing at all like me.

About Berga: Berga might look strong, but he’s never won in a fight against me. ... Haha, but he’s still pretty strong regardless. Even so, he’s just as much of a softie as the rest of the family as long as you don’t get on his bad side. If you happen to be near the Coraggioso, you should drop by and say hi!

About Keith: You don’t wanna get on his bad side more than anyone’s. He’s definitely the scariest of the Gandors; even I don’t even think about going against what he says. Fortunately for you, all three of ‘em are pretty forgiving, and you don’t have bad intentions, so I’m sure you’ll be just fine.

About Tick: Are you creeped out by those scissors? Well, that’s just natural. But Tick’s a pretty nice guy when he’s not on the job. Last time we met, I tried teaching him how to juggle scissors, but Luck intervened before we could actually start throwin’ ‘em. What a shame!

About Maria: If she tries to stab you, take it as a compliment and fight her with all you have! She can’t beat me, but she’s pretty strong, so fighting her will be good training for you. Or you’ll die, if you’re too weak. Either way, I look forward to seeing you match up against her sometime.

About the Fatui: Oh, right. Outside of my day-job, I’ve been on a contract on-and-off with one of the harbingers for a while. Between you and me, though, I think most of 'em are pretty terrible and I’m not really keen on sticking around once my job is officially over.

About the Archons: I don’t care how powerful they are.. To me, the Archons might as well be nothing. Even they’re just part of my world-wide dream...

More About Claire - I: Am I human? Haha, that’s a pretty good question! I don’t know about that myself, so I’ll have to give you an answer when I’ve got one.

More About Claire - II: I’ll tell you the truth. I created the myth of the Rail Tracer myself, and I told it to some of my passengers. It spread like wildfire, and I’m sure people think it’s some creature from the Abyss, but the Rail Tracer has always been me. Or, at least, it’s been me since I decided to become it.

More About Claire - III: The railroad line losing business is because of an incident that happened a couple months ago. Most people think the Rail Tracer killed all those innocent passengers, but in reality, it was the innocent and the lucky who got left alive.

More About Claire - IV: If you’re scared of me because I killed all those people, don’t be. I don’t want to kill you. Since you’re working to save my world, it’s only natural that I’d like it if you didn’t die!

More About Claire - V: Everything in this world is a lie. You, the Archons, the Fatui… Even my brothers. None of them are real, because I’m dreaming. Every single thing in this world is part of my dream, and when I wake up I’ll be the only one left. Because of that, I’m the strongest person in the world, and if I want something to happen, it will. Oh, but that also means you shouldn’t worry too much about your own hide, since I’m looking out for you.

Claire’s Hobbies: Before I was a conductor, I was an acrobat! I still like to swing around where I can. Even someone like me has to stay in shape.

Claire’s Troubles: Since I can’t always be there with my family, I’m a little concerned something might happen to ‘em while I’m gone. But then again, I believe in them, so they definitely won’t fail.

Favorite Food: The restaurant down the street from the Coraggioso serves the best pasta there is. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say that–it was much better when Berga made it.

Least Favorite Food: I’m really not picky about that kinda thing. I’ll eat just about anything you put in front of me. But if I had to say something... If Berga’s the best cook in my family, then Keith’s the worst. We’ll leave it at that.

Feelings About Ascension - Intro: if you work hard, and you want to get stronger, then you’ll get stronger. That’s just how it is.

Feelings About Ascension - Building Up: It’s thanks to the jobs you’ve brought me on that I’m able to keep growing in strength. I guess I should be thanking you!

Feelings About Ascension - Climax: The truth is, I will always be the strongest person in the world. But even for me, there’s always room for improvement.

Feelings About Ascension - Conclusion: Every single bit of strength you have comes from you. You and I are both the sort of person who works hard, and that hard work brings about incredible skill with what we do. If people try to attribute that to some kind of luck or inherent skill, you should put ‘em in their place. Haha.

Birthday: I heard it may or may not be someone’s birthday today. If you’re not already busy, maybe you wanna have a nice birthday lunch or something? I know the best place to go for a good meal!

[jeongyunhoed]

8 Stories, 8 Movies from the Golden Age (1930s to 1960s).

It’s the golden age and 8 men are the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. Lights, camera, action!

A tale of love and suspense, Park Seonghwa is haunted by the memory of his deceased wife, a shadow looming over the halls of his mansion. When he marries again, his new wife now comes to realize that even in death, his wife still remains.

Daphne

Warnings: Mentions of murder, death, suicide, and illness. Might have some innuendos, might not. But I’m putting these warnings out there regardless.

Other things to note: There are OCs. I might mention other idols (most likely NCT).

A/N: This has the same format as my Twilight Zone AU “The Other Dimension” where everyone in Ateez is here as well. So yeah, enjoy. Implied smut ahead...sort of, if you squint. But creepy San ahead. 

Masterlist

Part 2 

There she was, standing next to Seonghwa in front of a local justice in the nearest village by the sea later that day. A bouquet of small flowers in her hand, given to her by the children they passed by one moment, Seonghwa buying the rings that would make their relationship officially permanent in the local jewelry shop the next. She figured Seonghwa must have already been planning for this moment since he went to sleep days since their meeting, but she had never felt more certain. After exchanging I do’s with each other, the justice had made them official. She was now Mrs. Park Seonghwa. 

“How do you feel? Regret it yet?” Seonghwa asked her on their drive back to their hotel. 

“On the contrary, I feel like I’m on the clouds” She replied, reaching for his free hand and he kissed the back of hers. “Like I can do anything!” 

Seonghwa smiled, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove them back to the hotel where they now stayed together. They pulled up the driveway and hurried up to the suite where he brought her across the threshold, the two of them exchanging soft kisses that eventually turned into something more passionate. They consummated their marriage that evening and into the early hours of the morning. 

The following month, they were on their way to the Fontaine, the road curved and full of twists and turns that she had to grip the armrest of the car. The wind was hitting their faces and blowing in her hair, and she still felt like she was on cloud nine. They stopped in front of iron gates, with an arch over them that said “Fontaine” marking the path towards the house she had only seen on postcards. 

The path before them was lined with trees and shrubs that looked like they were in need cleaning up, and the blissful mood was met with a more somber one, a feeling of dread washing over her the closer they were getting. She could see the slight change in her husband’s expression the further they went. The loud rumbling of thunder echoed in the skies followed by rain and she put her jacket over her head to cover herself, Seonghwa unable to do the same as he stepped on the gas a little more. 

And there it was, the massive estate that she had only seen in pictures. The Fontaine was a large, white mansion that looked almost like a castle, and there were several other smaller houses that surrounded it. She figured it was the servants’ quarters as well as the garages that probably housed six or seven more cars like the one they were riding in. From the side, she could see that there was a swimming pool. This was Seonghwa’s home, the house he was born and raised in, and the home that the two of them were to live in. It was almost like an heirloom knowing how many generations of his family must’ve resided in the mansion. It was massive, it looked beautiful, straight out of a fairy tale, yet there was something about it that made her anxious. 

They pulled up into the driveway and entered the house, pushing open the doors that led them into the great hall. The lights were dimmed down, with the lamps and the fireplace being the only sources of light. There was a small crowd of the Fontaine’s staff gathered in front to receive them, all of whom looked very pleased, yet she was nervous to approach them. The closer they were, they saw one man, dressed a little differently from the rest of the staff, emerge from the crowd. He had upturned eyes, angular features, and hair that was just as black as Seonghwa’s. He had a stern look about his face and if she let her emotions get the better of her, she would’ve stepped back before approaching him. 

“Hello” She said quietly, dropping her glove, and he bent down to pick it up and gave it back to her. 

“This is Mr. Choi San, or San if you want to get down to more casual terms. He pretty much oversees everything here so you don’t have to,” Seonghwa introduced them. 

“Good evening,” She greeted him again. 

“Good evening, Madam,” He replied with a slight bow. “I have everything ready for you.” 

“Oh, well, that’s very good of you,” She said with a nod. His face betrayed nothing. 

“Will you be going to your room now? Or will you be having tea in the library?” He asked. 

She was still trying to find the words. He gave off a very intimidating aura. “I-well-” 

“The room first, San,” Seonghwa spoke. “Show her to her room so she can get out of her wet clothes, we ran into a storm on the way,” He said, and kissed her on the cheek. 

“This way, Madam,” He turned on his heel to lead the way and she followed him towards the two large marble staircases and up the right staircase and down to the only other door. There were portraits of Seonghwa’s family hung over the walls. San pushed the door open, revealing the room that she would be using from now on. “I hope you will approve of the new decorations in these rooms, Madam,” he said. 

She walked inside, in awe of what the room looked like. It had a large four-poster bed with a red velvet canopy. The ceiling was high and had a chandelier, and there were shelves full of books and a dresser in the corner as well as a large, white gold desk. Everything looked extremely opulent, yet she knew it was to be expected as it was the Fontaine and Seonghwa’s family was a very prominent one. “I-I didn’t know these were changed, what did it look like before?” She asked curiously. 

“It had different hangings, old paper,” San replied. “This room wasn’t used much, except for the occasional guests.” 

“So this wasn’t Mr. Park’s room, originally?” She asked this time. 

“No Madam,” San said. “He has never used the East Wing before. The West Wing has the only good view of the ocean.” 

She nodded, taking in the rest of her surroundings. “This room is very beautiful, and I’m sure I’ll be comfortable.” 

San gave a nod. “If there’s anything you want done, Madam, you only need to tell me.” 

“I guess you’ve been at the Fontaine for years now,” She said. 

“I came here when the first Mrs. Park was a bride,” San replied. 

She nodded again in understanding. “I hope we’ll get along, Mr. Choi, I just have to ask that you be patient with me, this kind of life is new to me and I want to do well here and make Mr. Park happy. At least I now know I can leave all the household arrangements to you,” She said. 

“I hope I shall do everything to your satisfaction Madam,” San said. “I’ve managed the house since Mrs. Park’s death, and Mr. Park has never complained.” 

“In that case,” She looked around. “I guess I could go downstairs now, maybe changing out of these clothes can wait, I want to see more of the Fontaine first.” 

“Of course, Madam,” San turned on his heel again, and she hurried to follow him. She could tell he didn’t exactly like her, but she figured it was because they had never met. Maybe he could warm up to her in time. “The room in the West Wing I was telling you about is on that side,” He gestured to the other room across them. “It’s not used now, it’s also the most beautiful room in the house - the only one that looks across the lawns to the sea. It was Mrs. Park’s room.” 

~ 

It became more apparent just how much San didn’t like her over the next few weeks. He never failed to mention how there had been another woman before her, the first Mrs. Park, the beautiful Daphne Yoo who was supposedly practically perfect in every way. It was clear how much of an influence Daphne had over the staff and understandably so, but even until now, until after her death, her influence remained. Her stationery on the main desk in the study, a letter “D” embellished on the linens, on the books, including the dog she used to own, a great dane named Lucky, who also slept outside her room. 

Even after her death, Daphne was all around the Fontaine, as if she had never left. 

She came down from her room for breakfast, knowing that San had already prepared everything in the dining hall until she skidded to a halt when she saw someone else in the study. It was a man, who looked a lot shorter than both San and Seonghwa, but unlike San, had a more approachable demeanor aside from an evidently handsome face. “Oh, good morning!” He greeted her, getting up from the chair. 

“Good morning” She said, bowing a little in response. 

“You’re Mrs. Park, aren’t you?” He said. 

“Yes, yes I am,” She nodded. 

“My name is Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong, I manage the estate for Seonghwa. It’s very nice to meet you,” He smiled. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” 

“A lot of stuff has piled up since Seonghwa was away, I had to get to them right away now,” Hongjoong said. 

“If you need help, you can tell me,” She suggested. 

“Help him?” Seonghwa suddenly appeared from behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Hongjoong doesn’t allow anyone to help him,” He said, beaming as he held her close for a moment before pulling away. “But it’s good that you two have finally met, we should probably go over the estimates now, don’t we?” 

“I’ll get my papers then,” Hongjoong replied, walking over to a chair that had his briefcase. 

Seonghwa turned to her. “There’s a lot of food prepared in the dining room already. Eat a lot, hmm?” He said, pecking her lips with a smile. 

“I’ll do my best,” She said. 

“Later this afternoon, probably, why don’t we take a walk around here? Just you and me, there’s still a lot you have yet to see” Seonghwa smiled. 

She smiled back. “Okay, I’ll be ready.” 

“Good,” He pecked her lips again before joining Hongjoong over to the desk. 

She watched the two of them talk for a moment until she excused herself to leave and enter the dining room. As she had expected, the long table was now laden with a lot of food, from slices of toast to large, silver, pots of coffee that was served in cups that were likely passed down from one generation to another. This was her life now, living in an estate like the Fontaine by the sea, while her husband was often busy with work but promised to make time for her later. It was moments like these that assured her that she belonged here, in the Fontaine, with Seonghwa. 

~ 

As Seonghwa had promised, they were taking a walk around the Fontaine later that afternoon, with Lucky on a leash. He showed her the servants’ quarters that seemed to be as elaborate as the main house, as well as the garage that had his family’s collection of cars, some of which were especially rare models nowadays. A gust of cold wind from the sea hit them, and Seonghwa was almost losing control of Lucky’s leash, as the dog was beginning to get restless. 

“Keep warm, my darling,” Seonghwa said to her while he tried to maintain control of the dog’s leash. 

“I’m trying. It’s not going to rain now, is it?” She asked, trying to help him with the dog and taking the leash from him instead. 

“You can’t be too careful,” Seonghwa replied. 

“It’s really wonderful here,” She said. “I love every bit of this place.” 

The dog had gotten away, making her nearly fall over and Seonghwa catching her for support. “Lucky!” He called out with a whistle. “Lucky! Here! Not that way! Lucky, come back!” 

“He went down those steps by the cliff, where does that lead?” She asked, watching the dog move down. 

“It uh,” Seonghwa paused, trying to whistle again to get the dog’s attention. “It leads to a cove where we used to keep a boat.” 

“Then let’s go down there, Seonghwa,” She said, tugging on his arm. 

“Oh no, no, we don’t need to go down there, it’s not very interesting, just a stretch of sand.” 

“Seonghwa, please, we have to go down there,” She insisted. 

He shook his head slightly. “We’ll go down there next time, not today.” 

They heard a howling from where the dog came from. She tugged on his arm again. “Seonghwa, is that Lucky? There must be something wrong, he probably injured himself.” 

“No, he’s fine. Just leave him be,” He replied. 

“I really think I should go down there and check up on him,” She said, pulling away, carefully moving towards the steps to the sound of Lucky’s howling. 

“Come back! Don’t mind Lucky!” Seonghwa was calling out. “He’s just fine, he knows the way home!” 

Even then, she couldn’t leave the dog behind. What if Lucky really was in danger? At least she would be there to see if he was alright. “Lucky? Lucky?” She called out the closer she got, until she saw the dog in front of what looked like a small cottage. Lucky was scraping and pawing at the door. “Lucky? What are you doing here? Are you looking for something in there?” She said, grabbing the end of the leash again. “Come on, let’s go back, Lucky.” 

The door of the cottage slowly opened, and behind it was an old man, looking down at the dog. “He comes here looking for her,” He said. 

She stepped back in surprise at the sight of him. “Oh! I didn’t-I didn’t know this was occupied-” 

“I know that dog,” The old man said. “He comes from the house, he’s not yours.” 

“No,” She shook her head. “He’s Mr. Park’s dog.” 

“I know that dog, he comes here looking for her,” The old man said again. 

“Who? Whose cottage is this?” She asked. 

“Mrs. Park,” The old man replied. 

“Oh,” She said, and turned back to the dog, tugging on the leash. “Come on, Lucky, let’s go home,” and the dog whimpered a little. 

“You won’t tell anyone you saw me in here, will you?” The old man suddenly asked. 

“You mean you don’t belong here in the Fontaine?” She asked. 

“Yes, but I wasn’t doing anything bad, I was just putting away the shells I collected,” The man replied. “She’s gone in the sea, isn’t she? She’s not coming back.” 

“No,” She shook her head. “She’s never coming back. Come on, Lucky, let’s go home,” She tugged on the leash again, leading the way back to where Seonghwa was. The closer they got, the more she saw Seonghwa already on his way back to the house and she hurried up the steps and towards him. “Seonghwa! Seonghwa! Wait!” She said, the dog now following behind her. Seonghwa stopped to wait for her and she had already sensed that his mood had changed. “I’m so sorry it took a while.” 

“I told you not to go there, you knew I didn’t want you to go there, but you went anyway,” Seonghwa muttered. 

“But why not? There was only a cottage down there, and a strange man-” 

“Don’t go back there again, do you understand?” Seonghwa was stern this time. 

“Why not?” She asked. 

“Because I hate the place!” Seonghwa snapped. “If you had my memories, you wouldn’t go there or talk about it or think about it!” 

“What’s wrong? Oh I’m so sorry, Seonghwa-” 

He sighed and looked down, apologetic as he calmed down and shook his head. “We should’ve stayed away from this place,” He said. “We should never have come back to the Fontaine, it was stupid of me to even think of coming back here.” 

She stepped closer. “Somehow I’ve made you upset, haven’t I?” She asked. “Oh, I can’t stand seeing you like this, I love you very much, Seonghwa, so, so much,” She said, her eyes welling with tears. 

He cupped her cheek. “I’ve made you cry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He said softly, wiping the tear that fell down her face. “I tend to snap unnecessarily, haven’t I?” Seonghwa sighed and kissed her. “Please forgive me, let’s go home, shall we? We’ll have tea and forget this happened.” 

She nodded. “Yes, I’d like nothing more.” 

~ 

They didn’t return down the path that led to the cottage, and she now knew how upset Seonghwa had gotten knowing that she went there. She had accidentally opened up the past to him, and even if he kept assuring her for a week on how things are fine, there now seemed to be a barrier between them. It was that barrier that made her a little uneasy whenever she brought up the sea. She entered the library to get a book to read, where Hongjoong was, going over piles of papers. 

“Please carry on, Mrs. Park, you’re not disturbing me,” He assured her with a smile. “Let me know if there’s something you’d like to know about the estate.” 

She turned around to face him. “Oh, well, I was-I was down at the cottage last week, and the place seems to be nearly in ruins, in need of repair or something,” She wondered if she could ask it. “Are all those things in there, Daphne’s things?” 

Hongjoong nodded. “Yes, yes those are all Daphne’s things inside that cottage.” 

“What did she use the cottage for?” She was becoming more curious, and Hongjoong was the only one she felt who could tell her. 

“The boat used to be parked there,” He replied. 

“The boat?” Her eyes widened slightly at the revelation. “Oh, that was the boat that she was sailing in when she drowned?” 

“Yes, it capsized and sank and she went overboard,” He answered. 

“Where did they find her?” She asked. 

“Around 60 kilometers away, washed up at another beach, they only found her two months later,” Hongjoong’s tone was a lot more somber now. “Seonghwa had to go to identify her, it was horrible for him.” 

She nodded. “I can imagine so,” She looked down at the book she took out from the shelf. “Hongjoong? Mr. Kim? Please forgive me for being a little too curious but, can you tell me just one more thing?” She asked carefully. 

“Of course, Mrs. Park,” He said with a slight nod. “If I can answer it, please let me know.” 

“Tell me,” She paused, unsure if she wanted to know, yet a part of her wanted to. “What was Daphne really like?” 

Hongjoong sat up, a small sigh escaping his lips as he tried to recall his memories of seeing her. “I guess she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” He said. 

~

Hongjoong and Seonghwa went up to the capital to take care of business another week later, leaving her alone at the Fontaine. It made her realize how the estate still had much to show her the more she wandered around the halls, stopping to look at portraits and photos of Seonghwa and his family. Knowing that he wouldn’t be back until the next day, she took it upon herself to tour the mansion some more, but always stopping short when she reached Daphne’s room, but as day turned into night, she heard voices coming from the West Wing, near her room. One, she knew was San, and the other was of a stranger. 

“I don’t think it wise for you to be back here, Mr. Wooyoung,” He said. 

“Oh, nonsense, it’s just like coming back home,” The other voice said. “I have to say though, I feel like the poor relative, sneaking through back doors. Oh well, bye, Sannie.” 

“Goodbye, Wooyoung, and be careful,” San replied. 

“I will, don’t you worry about a thing,” He said. 

She opened the door, making them look at her. The man who was about to leave through the other door had a grin on his face, while San remained stoic. “Oh, hello,” He said, just as cheerily as she had overheard him. 

“Good evening,” She greeted back. 

“Sannie, your precautions seem to be futile now, the mistress of the house was hiding behind the door after all,” He said, patting San on the shoulder a little too hard. 

“I-I wasn’t really,’ She shook her head. “I just heard voices coming from this room-” 

“Sannie, how about you introduce me to the bride, hmm?” He patted San again. 

“Madam, this is Mr. Jung Wooyoung,” He introduced them, and they bowed to each other in response. 

“Won’t you stay and have some tea? San can probably bring in some for you,” She said. 

Wooyoung chuckled. “That’s a charming invitation. How about that, Sannie? I’ve been asked by the mistress of the house to have some tea.” 

“It’s rather late, Mr. Wooyoung,” He said. 

“Oh, well, you’re right, it is rather late,” Wooyoung said. “And we wouldn’t want to lead the bride astray, now would we? Well, bye now, Oh, Sannie seemed to leave out an important part of our introductions, I’m Daphne’s favorite cousin,” He revealed. “Bye!” He waved before leaving, and she watched him go down the stairs, San following him. 

She turned around as soon as Wooyoung was no longer in sight, and there it was. The door to Daphne’s room. She had long wondered if she should open it and see what was in there, yet a part of her didn’t want her to and only for her to leave it alone. But San wasn’t around, no one else was around, and her curiosity was becoming stronger the closer she got to the door of Daphne’s room. Without another thought, she turned the doorknob and pushed it open. 

She didn’t know what she was expecting, perhaps furniture all covered up in white sheets, dust gathering in the nooks and crannies, cobwebs splayed over some other furniture. Yet it was the opposite. There were fresh flowers in the vase on one table, a silk dressing gown on the chair all laid out along with slippers. She could hear the waves crashing in the sea, and smell the sea air coming in through the curtains. 

The door closed behind her all of a sudden, making her jump and turn around, feeling her heart almost jump out of her chest in surprise. It was San. “Would you like anything, Madam?” He asked. 

“No, no,” She was trying to shake off the feeling from earlier. “I was-I mean, I just came in-” 

San walked up towards her. “You’ve always been curious about this room, haven’t you? Why didn’t you ask me to show you? It’s a beautiful room, isn’t it? The most beautiful room in this house if I do say so myself,” There was something about the way he said it that made her feel so uneasy. “Everything is kept just the way Mrs. Park liked it, and nothing has been changed since that last night.” 

She was growing a little more uncomfortable the more he went on about Daphne, and he walked past the sheer curtains towards her dressing area and opened the door. “This is where I kept her clothes. You’d want to see them, wouldn’t you?” He said, taking out one piece of clothing. “Feel this wrap, it’s very soft, isn’t it? It was a Christmas present from Mr. Park. He was always giving her expensive gifts,” 

She reached out to feel the material. It was incredibly soft. “You wouldn’t think she’d have been gone for a long time, would you?” A chill ran down her spine at his words. “Sometimes when I walk along the corridors, I think I can hear her behind me, her footsteps quick and light, I could figure out that it was her. It’s not only in this room, it’s in all the rooms in this house,” San put away the wrap and closed the door, approaching her this time, but she backed away. 

“I can almost hear it now,” He said, in an almost-whisper as he closed his eyes. “Do you believe  the dead come back and watch the living?” 

She felt goosebumps at his question and backed away some more. “No, no, I don’t believe it, Mr. Choi.” 

“Sometimes, I wonder if she doesn’t come back to the Fontaine, and watch you and Mr. Park together,” San took another step forward, making her step back. “You look tired, Madam, why don’t you stay here and rest? Listen to the sea, it’s very soothing,” He sounded cold. 

“I won’t listen, I won’t, I won’t,” She shook her head, covering her ears in horror. 

[real-life-pine-tree]

Leo Will Never Know: Star Students (2/?)

In an alternate timeline, Yugi indirectly prevented the events of Arc-V from ever happening. But how could this small change have an impact on a few selected people? A spin-off of the Arc-V Aftermath series. Based on the hilarious comic by @justanotherotakuandartist​. Co-written with @violetganache42​.

A few days later, Michael and Ray went to a domed building to take their entrance exams and passed with flying colors. Upon heading to Duel Academy and Chancellor Sheppard introducing himself to the students, they learned what ranking they were based on the colors of their uniforms. Ray and Michael both got Obelisk Blue, much to her disappointment because now she has to wear a uniform that reminds her of Kaiba. They headed towards their dorms when they learned there are two dorms: one for boys and one for girls.

In the girls' dorm, as soon as Ray arrived in her room, she took off her uniform. It was a blue jacket that looked too much like one of the jackets Kaiba usually wears. She knew it was mandatory to wear it, but why would she wear something that reminds her of the one person who ruined her life?

She then had an idea on how she can still wear her uniform without having it to remind her of him. She searched all over her room for some bleach, scissors, and a sewing kit. Several minutes later, she discovered that the girls' dorm building had a laundromat, which was perfect for her to bleach her trench coat. She placed it in the washing machine and poured the chemical in to white it out and then in the dryer to clean it.

A couple hours later, she took it to a tailor room she stumbled upon earlier to readjust it to an appropriate length; while growing up on the streets, she learned how to sew so that she can make clothes for herself and Leo, so her skills will definitely come in handy. Using a nearby mannequin for reference, she placed the white jacket on it and measured where she believed it should stop, having settled on around the waist. She took a marker and lightly made a mark on the jacket as reference on where to cut; after removing it from the mannequin, she used a pair of scissors to cut the flared ends off.

The blue trimmings weren't affected by the beach, but it still help made the trench coat stand out, so she trimmed them off the now-detached ends. She aligned them on her work-in-progress jacket, and with careful and precise dedication, sewed them in place.

After spending so many hours working, Ray finally finished with her modified uniform, consisting of the white sleeveless jacket with blue trimmings, a blue miniskirt, and blue boots. As she spent her first year at Duel Academy, all the female Obelisk Blue students couldn't help but admire what she was wearing.

"Nice uniform," an Obelisk Blue student named Alexis Rhodes said. "Did you make that?"

"I sure did," Ray happily answered. "I couldn't stand wearing a typical uniform, so I had to make some adjustments."

"You have to show me what you did," Alexis happily said. "It looks more fashionable than these old jackets."

Later that day, Ray showed Alexis how she made her custom uniform, who was given permission to use the latter's trench coat as an example. She gave her the full tutorial, from bleaching it to cutting the ends off at the waist area to sewing the trimmings back on the newly-changed jacket. Several more hours later, Cyber Angel/Girl user was astonished with the results, commenting on how it made her appear more feminine.

"Not bad," Alexis commented, checking out her reflection in a mirror. "This uniform is more fitting."

"Thanks," Ray said. "I had to learn how to sew clothing, so I know how to modify outfits."

"Well it does look amazing," Alexis said. "Is it alright if I tell some of my friends about this?"

"Sure," Ray answered.

That same night, Alexis informed her friends, Jasmine Makurada and Mindy Hamaguchi, about the modified uniform she was shown how to make. Pretty soon, after learning how to do it themselves, it became a widespread trend among the female students all over the school. Even the faculty and the non-Obelisk Blue students spotted and took note on the different jackets that have quickly become popular.

"Wow Ray," Michael said during lunch. "A lot of students really like your modified uniform style."

"Thanks," Ray said. "Although I didn't think it would become a trend. I originally didn't want to wear something that reminds me of Kaiba."

"Well you better get used to the trend," Michael said. "I heard there's a Slifer Red junior student who wants to wear that kind of uniform for his senior year."

Ray wasn't expecting a Slifer Red student to get inspired to wear a similar outfit to the ones going around campus. She asked what his name was and Michael said it was Chumley Huffington. It should be simple enough; since the non-Obelisk Blue jackets weren't as long as the old trench coats, all she's got to do is bleach it, with the trimmings still remaining red.

"I'm surprised the other students are interested in my custom uniforms," Ray remarked.

"It's not just the students," Michael clarified. "Nurse Fontaine likes the style too. You might have started this because of your past with KaibaCorp, but I think you unintentionally changed the uniform policy of this school."

The onion-haired teen was right. Due to the skyrocketing popularity of Ray's custom uniforms, Chancellor Sheppard made the official decision to have them implemented as part of the school's dress code; the students were also given the liberty to wear variations of their attires. Aside from this surprise, her and Michael's first year at Duel Academy went well.

Their second year had another group of students joining the current ones; they included Slifer Red students Jaden Yuki and Syrus Truesdale, Ra Yellow mathematician Bastion Misawa, and Obelisk Blue "elite Duelist" Chazz Princeton, who was initially selfish and egotistical. So far, not a lot happened to them, other than seeing the new students going on misadventures including the risk of expulsion, the Abandoned Dorm, Jaden and Syrus' tag team duel against the Paradox Brothers, an escaped dueling test monkey, the summoned spirit of Jinzo, a duel against Harrington Rosewood (captain of Duel Academy's tennis team) for Alexis' affection, a duel giant, a Tarzan-esque student named Damon, a copycat duelist who stole Yugi's deck and mimicked his mannerisms (much to Michael's embarrassment), a love-struck Zane Truesdale fan switching her feelings towards Jaden, and the school duel against North Academy. The second half, however, affected them more because a threat was looming over Duel Academy: the Shadow Riders.

During this fiasco, Ray had come across Chazz during a chance encounter near the lake. Needless to say, the former Obelisk student was surprised.

"You're Ray Akaba!" Chazz exclaimed.

"Yeah," Ray said, puzzled by his behavior. "Can I help you?"

"You're that girl who changed the uniform policy!" Chazz said. "Please use your special sewing skills on my uniform!"

Ray was rather embarrassed about being praised like that. Her simple decision to alter her jacket to not remind her of Kaiba has made her become a legend among the students for over a year. She took a look at Chazz's uniform, which wasn't school-related, but was allowed to wear it as long as he followed the rules. In fact, nonuniforms have also been made as an exception during the uniform policy change. His grayish-purple shirt, dark blue jeans, and brown shoes were fine, but his dark gray trench coat was tattered at the ends. Was that why he needed his help?

"I'll see what I can do," Ray said.

"Thank you, Ms. Akaba!" Chazz said as he took off his trench coat and gave it to Ray.

Because of her legacy, Ray was given her own sewing kit as a thank you gift for creating an extraordinary change. As she was about to fix up the tattered ends, she noticed there were a few rips on the sleeves. Where did Chazz get this coat in the first place? Was it part of the clothes he got during his stay at North Academy? Regardless, she knew he was going to love the results once she's finished.

Meanwhile, Michael strolled by the Slifer Red dorm as part of his personal tour of what the other dorms are like. He was still having a hard time accepting that this was where some of the students were staying for the next few years…although it does have a neat view of the ocean. As he gazed upon the dorm's structure, a familiar voice called from the balcony. He eyes shifted in the direction of where it was coming from, leading him to notice it belonged to Jaden. How did he not notice the Elemental HERO user until just now?

"Whoa, is that a dragon?!" Jaden had called out.

Michael glanced over at his Odd-Eyes Dragon card; since it was the only dragon he has, it obviously was what Jaden was referring to. The Obelisk Blue teen still had his tendency to leave Odd-Eyes out of his deck and bring his friend along with him all the time.

However, Michael quickly realized there was no way for Jaden to see that card all the way on the ground. "How did you...?"

"I can see him standing next to you," Jaden explained, walking over to the onion-haired teen. "And from the looks of it, he seems pretty protective."

Michael asked himself how it was possible for Jaden to see Odd-Eyes. Can he also communicate with Duel Monster Spirits too?

"You can actually see Duel Monster Spirits?" Michael asked.

"Sure can," Jaden cheerfully answered. "Sure is fun to see them."

"I can't actually see them," Michael admitted. "I can only hear Odd-Eyes speak to me through his card."

"There's a difference?" Jaden asked.

"There is," Michael answered.

"Then maybe we should hang out some time after this whole Shadow Riders thing is taken care of so you can tell me more about this dragon of yours," Jaden suggested, putting his arm across Michael's shoulders. "Whaddya say?" He winked with a huge grin on his face.

Was this Jaden's way of flirting? Sure looks like it and it made Michael surprised yet a bit uncomfortable. It was obvious he had feelings for Ray, making him straight, but what about Jaden? Was he homosexual or bisexual with a male preference? Then again, it would be nice to befriend someone from outside of the Obelisk Blue dorms; hopefully, Jaden will understand that he already has a crush on his childhood friend.

"Sure," Michael said. "I can tell you all about my experiences with Odd-Eyes."

"Sounds pretty sweet to me," Jaden said. "Maybe you can also tell me where you got those cool green highlights."

Back at the female Obelisk Blue dorm, Ray finished sewing up the last rip on the left sleeve, completely fixing Chazz's trench coat. Her kit had similar colors, but they were in different shades; while teaching herself how to sew during the past decade, she also developed an extremely keen eye that can tell which hue matches the piece of clothing. Luckily, the tailor room had some fabric in the exact colors she needed. Despite the mini search she went on, she made the entire jacket look brand new again.

At that moment, Ray had a sudden idea. What if she could start a mini-business during the remainder of her school years? There were probably other students who need to repair their uniforms. Maybe she could help out with that. She made a post-it note reminding herself to return Chazz's trench coat and set up flyers promoting free uniform repairs first thing tomorrow morning.

There was a knock on the door, leading Ray to inform the person that it's unlocked. That person she spoke to turned out to be Michael. Needless to say, what he said was rather unexpected as soon as he entered the room.

"I love you, Ray Akaba!" the onion-haired teen declared.

A light tint of pink quickly formed on Ray's cheeks as she stood frozen in place. The pen she used to write the reminder slipped out of her hand and fell on the floor just as she was about to put it away when she heard those five words.

"Michael?" Ray asked. "Why did you- MMPH!"

Her question was cut off with a kiss from Michael, but it was more of a running kiss. He had dashed towards her to connect his lips with hers, only for them to fall down to the floor in the process. Fortunately, their kiss wasn't broken and she eventually gave in before they engaged in a loving make-out session. Ray's right hand landed on the back of Michael's head as she entangled her fingers through his silver strands whereas her left arm wrapped itself on his back, using her left hand to lightly grip onto his shoulder and embracing him.

Some time later, the two had to part for air, but their arms were still wrapped around each other. "What's...going on?" Ray asked, having a hard time speaking due to Michael giving small kisses on her neck. Her grip on his hair tightened as he did so.

"Turns out that Jaden kid is attracted to guys," Michael explained between kisses. "It made me realize you're the only person I love."

Ray was flummoxed by what Michael said, and those pecks on her neck made it difficult to understand what he means. She soon deduced that he ultimately admitted his sexual preference to Jaden when they met. Simultaneously, she also began to see how cute her childhood friend really is.

"Well you do have cute hair and nice eyes," Ray admitted, ruffling the onion-shaped locks.

"So does that mean...?" Michael asked.

"I guess we're officially boyfriend and girlfriend," Ray admitted. "But..."

"I told you, we have nothing to worry about," Michael repeated. "Leo will never know."

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

Loved to Death: Top Five Gothic Romances for Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day may at first seem like the antithesis to any horror fan’s dream holiday. Regardless of relationship status, it seems hard for us fiends to enjoy a holiday so sweet and loving, without a trace of blood or bats in sight. But romance has in fact enjoyed a long love affair with horror. In fact, Gothic horror, one of the earliest and most influential genres of horror, is frequently centered around romance.

Gothic horror was originally a literary genre, but in the era of horror film, it has moved from the page to the screen. Gothic horror films frequently depict the darker side of romance, making them the perfect pick for a spooky Valentine’s Day. So if you want to add some terror to your love story this year, check out our top five Gothic romance picks.

  Crimson Peak (2015)

If you can only watch one Gothic romance, make it this. Guillermo Del Toro is a master of distilling every genre he takes on and creating films that are essentially the ultimate take on that genre. Nowhere does he do this better than Crimson Peak (2015). Del Toro’s take on Gothic horror is a masterpiece of atmosphere, construction, visuals, and theme. It flawlessly captures the essence of the entire Gothic romance genre in a single film.

Crimson Peak stars Mia Wasikowska as Edith Cushing, an American heiress and aspiring writer in late 19th century New York. As a child, Edith was visited by the ghost of her mother, who warned her to “beware of Crimson Peak.” Now a young woman, Edith is writing a novel, a ghost story on the surface, though she explains the ghost is really a metaphor for the past. Her dismissive male publisher wants her to include a love story. Early on, Del Toro establishes direct references to key themes of Gothic horror, while foreshadowing the story to come.

Edith is an intelligent, independent woman whose literary aspirations evoke the bold female authors who made Gothic romance the iconic genre we know today. I’m certain it’s no coincidence Wasikowska was cast in the role, after so perfectly embodying the most famous of Gothic heroines in Jane Eyre (2011). Edith meets Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston), a British nobleman traveling with his sister, Lucille (Jessica Chastain). Thomas hopes that Edith’s father will invest in his clay mining enterprise. The investment doesn’t happen, but Edith falls in love with the mysterious nobleman, and after her father meets a violent death, she marries him and moves into his crumbling manor in England. Once there, she is thrown into a nightmare of ghosts, murder, and secrets.

Crimson Peak is a perfect deconstruction, and reconstruction, of Gothic horror. It takes key themes of the genre and examines them with depth and detail. The film brilliantly explores memory, family, the past, British aristocracy vs. American new money, the role of women, and the perils of new love and trust. With the relationships in Crimson Peak, Del Toro handles the tropes of Gothic love stories with incredible understanding and insight. There are really three love stories at play in the film, only one of which could be considered healthy. One of them is downright twisted, and all of them reference prominent tropes in the Gothic genre.

Crimson Peak is a visually rich, emotional, and frightening film. Del Toro can take on any genre of horror with brilliance, and his homage to Gothic romance is no exception.

  Jane Eyre (2011)

You can’t talk about Gothic romance without mentioning Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte’s 1847 masterpiece of romance, horror, mystery, and proto-feminism laid the groundwork for most modern iterations of the Gothic romance. While Bronte’s novel was not by any means the first of the genre, arguably every Gothic romance since owes a measure of debt to Jane Eyre. The novel is a masterpiece of swooning, slow burn romance, incredible characters, and horrific dark secrets. As is to be expected with any iconic novel, there are plenty of film adaptations to choose from. My pick for the best is the 2011 Jane Eyre directed by Cary Fukanaga. I’m a massive fan of the novel, and for me, Fukanaga’s adaptation hit all the right notes.

Jane Eyre follows the eponymous heroine (Mia Wasikowska) — an orphan who survives a hellish childhood. As a bright, independent young woman, she takes a position as a governess at the mysterious Thornfield Hall. There she begins to fall for the brooding Mr. Rochester (Michael Fassbender). But the dark secret of Thornfield threatens to destroy their passionate romance. The 2011 Jane Eyre is a faithful adaptation that manages not to feel rushed within its two hour runtime. Wasikowska and Fassbender give incredible performances, as does the supporting cast — including Judi Dench, Sally Hawkins, Imogen Poots, and Jamie Bell.

Jane Eyre is more heavy on the romance than the horror, but the novel and film do feature a distinctly spooky atmosphere and some supremely creepy scenes. And when this Jane Eyre goes Gothic, it does so very effectively. From Jane’s childhood ordeal in a room that she believes to be haunted, to the disembodied laughter and nighttime mysteries of Thornfield Hall, Fukanaga had me on the edge of my seat with careful lighting and sound design. And when this film is more romance than horror, it delivers perfectly handled characters and incredibly raw emotion. The only disappointment of this adaptation is that it cut the most terrifying sequence in the original novel. I love romance, but the more horror in the mix, the better. But since Jane Eyre succeeded so brilliantly in every other aspect, I’ll forgive this fault.

If you want to witness an effective and faithful adaptation of a monumental classic, Jane Eyre (2011) is a must see.

  I Walked with a Zombie (1943)

From the ultimate Gothic romance genre maker to an exceedingly creative retelling. My next pick is Val Lewton’s haunting re-imagining of Jane Eyre, I Walked With a Zombie (1943). This film marked Lewton’s second horror project after the hugely influential masterpiece, Cat People (1942). I Walked With a Zombie continued the producer’s partnership with director Jacques Tourneur. Lewton’s work with Tourneur would include his very best horror films, and I Walked With a Zombie is no exception. Like Cat People, Zombie was made on a shoestring budget, using a cheesy title provided by the studio via focus groups. But also like Cat People, Lewton would use these limitations to make a frightening, beautiful, and stunningly creative film.

I Walked With a Zombie follows Betsy Connell (Frances Dee), a Canadian nurse who travels to the Caribbean to care for the catatonic wife of Paul Holland, the owner of a sugar plantation. While there, Betsy falls in love with her employer, and begins to except there may be a supernatural source behind his wife’s illness.

I Walked With A Zombie predates the modern horror conception of a zombie, as originated in Night of the Living Dead (1968). Instead, the 1943 film concerns the original concept of a Zombie in Haitian folklore. The subject is handled with surprising care and accuracy for 1943. Lewton and his writers did extensive research on voodoo beliefs and practices for the film, and the depiction of rituals feels almost like a documentary. Furthermore, the film doesn’t shy away from the underlying influence of slavery on zombie practices and beliefs. The film uses the lingering trauma of slavery as a central theme, making for a film that while still flawed, feels overall very ahead of its time. After all, horror is the genre where some of the most socially conscious filmmaking can be found.

Like his first horror film with RKO, Lewton creates some seriously scary sequences using shadow, sound, and suggestion. Betsy’s moonlit journey through the cane fields is intensely creepy — it’s possibly my favorite scene in all of Lewton’s films. As a Gothic romance, I Walked With a Zombie stands out. It takes a familiar structure and story beats, and transports them. Far from the misty moors and crumbling castles of England, I Walked With a Zombie instead gives us the humid nights, shadowy cane fields, and moonlit rituals of the Caribbean. This creative switch results in a new take on a classic genre that is sure to stick with you.

  Rebecca (1940)

Alfred Hitchcock’s adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s novel is a classic work of gothic romance. Hitchcock is known as “the master of suspense” for a reason, and Rebecca proves exactly why. The film manages to take a story where the primary threat is merely memory and guilt, and transform it into a work of horror.

Rebecca follows an unnamed protagonist (Joan Fontaine) working as an assistant to a wealthy woman traveling in Monte Carlo. While there, she sees a man appearing to contemplate suicide on a cliff, and stops him. The man is the aristocratic Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier). The two fall in love and are married after only two weeks of knowing each other.

The new “Mrs. de Winter” moves into her husband’s estate, Manderlay. While settling in, the timid young bride feels overwhelmed by the lingering presence of Maxim’s dead first wife, Rebecca. Her monogram is everywhere, her bedroom remains preserved — everywhere she goes the new Mrs. de Winter is reminded that she can never live up to Rebecca. The unnerving presence of Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson), the housekeeper who is obsessed with her late mistress, does little to ease the young bride’s fears. Rebecca, like the novel it is based on, draws heavy influence from Jane Eyre. Like the 1847 novel, Rebecca concerns a working class young woman who falls fast for a mysterious aristocrat — only to find the secrets of her new love’s past will continue to haunt him, and her.

Rebecca is a tour de force of atmosphere. Hitchcock makes Manderlay seem present and unnerving through his mastery of pacing, cinematography, and suspense. The performances in the film are steller. Joan Fontaine balances naivete, fear and strength as the unnamed protagonist. Olivier is the ideal of a haunted Gothic hero, and Judith Anderson embodies an iconic villain as the unhinged Mrs. Danvers.

Gothic stories are most often about the horror of the past. Ghosts and curses may serve as the surface scares, but they always represent the true terror of the past sins and traumas our characters are attempting to escape. Rebecca creates a gothic horror without the metaphor, and makes the ghost at its center literally a memory. But it proves that memory can have just as much power, perhaps even more so, than any specter haunting a castle’s halls.

  The Brides of Dracula (1960)

A hidden treasure of Hammer Horror, The Brides of Dracula makes up for what it lacks in Christopher Lee by being a wonderful and entertaining take on a Gothic romance by way of vampires. Brides of Dracula follows Marianne Danielle (Yvonne Monlaur), a young woman traveling through Transylvania to take a teaching position at a girl’s school. She is a woman in the mode of the classic heroine of Gothic horror; Young, intelligent, but without wealth or social status. She is perfectly poised for a Byronic hero to sweep her off her feet.

Before long, Marianne encounters just such a hero. Or so she thinks. Stranded by her carriage, Marianne accepts the hospitality of the Baroness Meinster (Martita Hunt), who tells Marianne of her insane son, who she must keep locked away for his own safety. Marianne is horrified, and when she encounters the young man, she is swept away by his fairy tale good looks and piteous state. She sees him as perfectly sane, imprisoned by a cruel mother to keep him from his inheritance. She believes she alone can save him, and frees him. But it soon becomes apparent that the young Baron Meinster is not the romantic hero he seemed to be. Before long, peasant girls are turning up dead, and Dr. Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) is on the case.

Brides of Dracula is a fantastic addition to a gothic romance marathon. It flips the tropes we know and takes them fully to the dark side. It forces us to question the themes of Gothic romance by showing how terribly wrong they could go. The Gothic love interest is always flawed, haunted, and dangerous. While the threat posed by any given Byronic hero can vary, they usually at least genuinely fall for the Gothic heroine. But Baron Meinster is all deceitful predator. He embodies the stereotype of the tortured, beautiful aristocrat who needs saving. And he does this intentionally to draw women into his trap. The ruse works, not only on our heroine, but on other women as well. All of them are blinded by the fantasy sold to them by the genre, which the film more than suggests its characters have read too much of.

Along with a great examination of the dark side of Gothic romance, The Brides of Dracula boasts the stunning cinematography, technicolor color palette, and incredible costumes fans of Hammer Horror have come to expect. And while the film lacks Christopher Lee as Dracula, Peter Cushing literally slays as Van Helsing. He adds the intriguing suggestion of a love triangle to the film. This is also Van Helsing in serious badass mode. During the climax of the film, the vampire hunter pulls one of the most hardcore moves in the character’s entire screen history.

If you want your Gothic romance less swooning, and with more vampires, The Brides of Dracula is the film for you!

    Diving into Gothic romance is a great way for to explore ideas of love and loss through the lens of horror. Gothic romance gets at the complexities of love, possibly better then any other genre. It features true love, but also unhealthy love, controlling love, imperfect love, lost love, and terrifying love. It seems fitting that one of the strongest of human emotions be paired with fear. If you want to forgo the candy hearts and dive straight into raw emotion, romance, and terror, let Gothic horror be your Valentine this year.

The post Loved to Death: Top Five Gothic Romances for Valentine’s Day appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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