elevenths



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  1. Public Bookmark 42

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    ”and you know i won’t complain”

     

    He drew a breath in and spoke before Scaramouche fried him on the spot, “Look I'll leave, okay? But we don’t- you don't have to do anything, I can just make you feel good. If you want it.”

    Childe stumbled over his words. Negotiation wasn't a regular part of these trysts, more often a trading of insults and clashing teeth, blind pawing at clothing and a submission to ill placed desires was all the pretense needed. They weren't friends, after all.

    But the way Scaramouche was holding himself tugged at something in Childe. He'd never seen him so seemingly exhausted, even after fighting for hours, even with clothes disheveled and mussed up hair, Scaramouche always held an air of perfection that Childe just assumed was built into his being.

    Language:
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    08 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 53

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    Day 6 | Vampires

    “I already told you. I don’t have your mora.”

    The Regrator is so close that Dottore can see his own reflection in the glittering glass that shields those bloodless eyes.

    “Oh, doctor,” Pantalone croons. He grazes the back of a gloved knuckle over Dottore’s cheek, docking it just below his jaw. “The Northland Bank is always amenable to dealing in currencies other than money. Blood and tears will do just fine.”

    Language:
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    4,525
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    53
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    26 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Figured it out, have you?” Pantalone’s affected slur is gone. Behind the silver glitter of glass, his eyes are lucid—bright and hungry with promise.

    You!” Dottore rasps. “You drugged me!”

    The wine stains Pantalone’s smile a deep red, a sanguine gash over a flash of white teeth. “On the contrary, my dear Doctor. I think you’ll find you drugged yourself. I merely recognized a profitable opportunity when I saw it.”

    Dottore doses Pantalone’s wine. Pantalone reminds Dottore that he isn’t one to be underestimated.

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    Language:
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    15,190
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    102
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    24 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 95

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    Dottore is a man who covets the past, claims the present, and mourns the future.

    Or, Dottore grieves a future that has yet to happen, and may never happen. Pantalone forces a confession out of him.

    Language:
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    8,454
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    Comments:
    63
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    95
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    24 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 76

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    They never fucked in a bedroom.

    Once—and only once, since Pantalone dreads the thought of getting more than his lungs transplanted—they did it on the table of the boardroom, after the end of a Harbinger meeting. One agent witnessed the event. One very clever and practical agent, who quickly climbed the organization’s ladder and landed himself a cushy position as a Fatui ambassador in Fontaine.

    It always happens in the laboratory. Surrounded by cool iron; iron around them, against their backs, in the stuffy air of their shared breaths. The examination table became a promise of both excruciating pain and the sensation that is very much the opposite of that. Whenever Pantalone finds himself in the room, he never knows on which end of the scale he’ll end up.

    A gambler he is, the thought always excited him.

    Language:
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    Comments:
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    76
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    24 May 2026