SucroseHandHolder
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Summary
It’s been a few years since the original Zandik's death.
Pantalone laughed awkwardly. “Perhaps I got too lost in the calmness of it all. Nothing a nap can’t fix.”
“There are other effective methods to release tension other than sleep." Twenty-five commented, sharp and factual with his words. "Orgasms are pretty effective, for example."
(Or... Dottore's segments, 18, 25, 35 and 45, help their dear "friend" release some anxiety.)
Bookmarked by SucroseHandHolder
04 Jun 2026
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Summary
Pantalone was resting in his bath after a long day of arduous work, fulling intent on treating himself tonight. The bath was large and luxurious, enough so to fit two people comfortably. It was free-standing and situated in the middle of the bathroom and with how he was lounging, his back was facing the door. The water was steaming and left him pink and refreshed. He was sure nothing could disturb this moment. That was, until just now.
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Bookmarked by SucroseHandHolder
03 Jun 2026
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Summary
Goro Akechi is 32 and living in domestic bliss with his husband when suddenly he is violently warped back to the past... where he finds himself in the body of his teenage self, holding a gun to the forehead of his only love.
Bookmarked by SucroseHandHolder
03 Jun 2026
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Summary
He refused to leave Akechi here to fucking die in the bowels of his asshole father's ship. He'd give anything. He'd beg, he'd pray, he'd switch places with him, he didn't care, just please, someone—
"I have the strength you seek, voleur de coeurs, but your heart is not yet prepared to hold me."
Agony pulsed from his temples and lanced down his spine, thorns lodging between every column. Fire seared through his veins, charring into his fingertips. He choked on smoke and ash in his lungs.
Akira dropped in time with the gunshots he didn't hear over the sound of his own screaming. His knees cracked against the ground.
He remembered this sensation.
This was so much worse than Arsene.
I say: "Watch me save him."
Bookmarked by SucroseHandHolder
03 Jun 2026
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Summary
Whatever it was, the little voice in his head, it told him to go home.
What he’ll find home is a different story. A vast quiet, thick and swathing. A dark hush over the rooms, the kitchen, nothing but the scraping of mice and the stray cat Notkin had brought in. An absence, acute, of Isidor, still lingering in the air.
And somewhere upstairs, far and close, in a room sealed tightly shut, another man sleeping.
Or: a breaking point.
Series
- Part 1 of nos deux mains
Bookmarked by SucroseHandHolder
02 Jun 2026