anthler_sleepnot
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Dottore died in that fire.
So who is it that keeps appearing outside Pantalone's door in the middle of the night?
Bookmarked by anthler_sleepnot
09 Jul 2026
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Sometimes the memories that linger longest, are the ones that seem inconsequential in the moment; and each leaf blown from the burning tree, sends another small fragment away…lost to the endless void.
“Why, it almost sounds like a dowry. I won’t have to change my surname will I?”
At his light hearted jab, the Doctor responded swiftly, “make zero mistake, Feofan,” he pressed his fingers along his jaw, using his thumb to tip his head to look at him once more. “I am not giving you away. You are just being moved to a pedestal more suited to your skillset. You belong to me until we both perish.”
Bookmarked by anthler_sleepnot
08 Jul 2026
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Feofan is no stranger to Zandik and his segments’ laboratory.
That being said…
His current problem requiring the Doctor is a lot less… ah, dignified, compared to his usual issues.
Pantalone gets a nosebleed after tripping over a bedpost in his search for his missing glasses.
8 helps.
※DO NOT REPOST / HOST MY WORK ON OTHER APPS OR SITES
Bookmarked by anthler_sleepnot
04 Jul 2026
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"The only way I'm better than your previous dead subordinates is the fact that I'm still alive. And I haven’t disappointed you."
"Yet."
"No," Feofan insists. "I won't."
At twenty, Feofan loses everything he has ever worked for. In the aftermath, he meets the Second of the Fatui Harbingers who makes an exception.
(This should not be perceived as a good thing.)
- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by anthler_sleepnot
03 Jul 2026
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"We also... received this for you. It was delivered to a subordinate today, right after the shipment of supplies was sent to the Second Harbinger’s laboratory."
Beside the leather folder, she deposited a clumsy, irregularly cut envelope, as if it had been handmade in a hurry. On the back, written in bright red, large letters, was a warning: "CONFIDENTIAL," with an implied tone of threat to anyone who dared think of violating the correspondence. Pantalone extended his hand, reaching for the rustic paper to analyze clues about the sender.
Though he already knew very well the identity of the responsible party.
"Very well. You are dismissed."
The assistant made a brief, silent bow before withdrawing, leaving the office immersed in the same silence as before. Alone, the banker slid his fingers through the letter's improvised seal, which gave way without much resistance. Pulling out the firmly folded sheets, he placed the empty envelope on the mahogany table, adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a light touch, and unfolded the first page.
or
Pantalone exchanges letters with a few segments, has fun in the process, and declares his favorite.
Bookmarked by anthler_sleepnot
22 Jun 2026