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Dottore x Pantalone date, except it's just a debate about which one of Dottore's invention should Pantalone invest in. The only thing that makes is a date is the wine and the bad decisions involved.
Dottore getting down in one knee infront of Pantalone as the Irminsul burns in the background. And instead of giving him a ring, he slowly unclips the ring from his ear, the inmortal elixis, and hands it to Pantalone.
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Summary: There is a strange soul at the Final Night Cementery. They speak with riddles and rhymes that were long swallowed and eaten by time. Such soul just so happens to be very captivating to Flins, to say the least.
No warnings for today, yipee, fluff and only fluff
Wc: 1.7k~
Ever since Flins started living at the Final Night Cemetery, you had always been there. Resting at a tomb, with a serene yet haunting look on your face. If Flins were to admit it, you were truly one of the most captivating souls out of the whole graveyard.
You always spoke out loud. Sometimes he was present, sometimes he wasnโt. You didn't seem to care much anyway. Always speaking your truth, even when there was no follower to listen. Often times, you spoke in riddles, telling old stories that made Flins doubt if you were something else than a wandering soul, or just... a lunatic.
Just then, you changed topics to talk about the weather. A classic.
As far as Flins could tell, you were... unusual. In other words, weird. Well, Flins couldnโt be bothered to be annoyed or judge you for it. After all, his true nature wasnโt exactly human.
Sometimes he wondered if you knew his true identity. Your eyes seemed to pierce close when he did something out of the blue. You stared for a few seconds, then turned your head away when something was more worthy of your attention that the Fae standing infront.
And much to Flins judgement, you were also very... pretty. Gorgeous even. Flins had watched centuries of years pass by. Different monarchs lead and pass away, and on. Yet your beauty compared to none of those.
You wore your head high at him.
Eyes as pale as the morning sunlight, usual in the dead, but specifically beautiful on you. Smooth clothes made out of long, flowy, maybe fancy fabric.
"Is is silk?" He asked you once, with a curious smile.
"... I don't seem to recall. Silk didn't exist back then, i'm pretty sure."
Your hair looked well-taken care of before you passed away. Intrique patterns resting in all the right places as the rest of it followed the lead of the wind.
When Flins first found you, you were resting on your own tomb, leaning against the cold stone as you sat cross-legged. The tomb behind you had its name scraped off, worn out with time and lack of care.
He asked you your name. You responded with a cold smile. Not because it was rude, it just looked like your usual expression. Then, you spoke. Your voice carried a serene tone, comfortable enough for him to melt on the spot. Your voice seemed to echo over the place, even if you tone was low.
"... It's been a while since there's been a caretaker. You don't seem scared, i will assume you are the owner until proven otherwise." Your smile grew as you stated, and something inside Flins began to search its way to you.
... Yeah, Flins had a bit of a crush on you.
Though, if anyone were to ask, he would merely call you captivating. Make a reference or two about your weird speech manners, and move on with the conversation just to make sure the person he had spoken to, didn't catch the red glint on his ears.
You spoke to him. Often. There was some sort of devotion in your tone, he couldnโt tell exactly. You had confessed various times to wanting to help him. Have a better form than being.. a ghost. A mere and pathetic whisper of your real form.
๐ ๐ ๐
When Flins went fishing at the side of the beach, you often sat next to him. Your legs pulled coosely by your chest as you watched Flins try to catch a fish and fail. Multiple times.
"... When i was alive, my followers used to adore the fishing industry. They tended to me with them. They brought them for dinner, lunch... never for breakfast."
He let out a laugh. A deep sounding laugh with a quiet tone, so it wouldn't startle the fish.
"My Lord," oh right, you called him that. "Is fish your... favorite dish?"
He thought around for a few seconds. Well it wasn't his favorite, but it was the one he liked the most... atleast.
He nodded alongside a murmur. You didn't seem to catch what he said anyway, and only stared ahead, at the sea.
"...That is pathetic." You stated again, as if it was the absolute truth.
"What?" Flins stared at you for a few seconds, maybe out of embarassement or confusion. But his look was cut off as the fishing rod finally caught onto something.
Flins pulled it out after a minute of struggling with it, it wasn't a regular sized fish, like the ones he usually caught, no, this time, the size was properly big. And Flins seemed quite content.
"Why do you think it's pathetic?" Flins asked properly, now looking with a gentle gaze over your face, where your eyelashes fluttered with the wind, and your eyes got lost in the sea.
"Back when i was alive, i didn't have to capture anything myself. Catching fish is just... a waste of time! Though, i do kind of miss the little humans."
Your eyes shut down for a couple of seconds as you sighed, seemingly recalling some memory from the old past.
"I believe that... humans often obtain the joy of eating a meal, by making the meal themselves." Flins tried to reason back to you, yet it seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"... Anyways. And how do you season this "fish"? What is it called?"
Even if you didn't mean to, or rather, didn't comprehend you did, you could be very curious about human life. Though, he wasnโt the best example of it.
Sometimes he caught you wandering at the beach, staring into the long sea ahead, and sometimes talking to another souls. Though the last was anything but common.
โญ๐
Flins slowly lowered himself beside you on the beach, you remained cross legged, staring at nothing in particular.
"The simple vast and emptiness of this place is... overwhelming. In a good way, of course." You muttered slowly, tasting each word on your tongue before deciding it was proper and and well-mannered, "what are you up to today, My Lord?" Oh that damned nickname again.
"Nothing much today, just... helping around with Lightkeeper's stuff. Today i helped Captain Illuga, the Wild Hunt has been rather persistent lately."
"Is that so?... Help yourself then, you should quit. Or better yet, let the rest do the work." As selfish as the words could seem; Flinx knew you meant well. Oftentimes, you told other souls to just suck it up. In comparison, this was.. better, atleast.
Flins uttered a low laugh, amused by your words. "Can't," he replied, "I've been working for very long; pays well. Besides, i have a... debt to sail." Yes, a debt sounded like a nice way to put it.
"A debt?" You replied back, "Huh... don't have many of those. I hope you can get rid of it soon," "Thank you."
Out of nowhere, you seemed to scoot closer to him, closer than you already were. A ghost's movmente never made any noise, nor had any warmth, if you weren't watching them, a ghost could perfectly puff away without notice. Your ghostly fingers hovered over his,. It was electrifying, overwhelming. It felt like nothing yet all at once.
Your fingers passed through his without a thought. Un-tangent and ghost like.
".. Krylyll," You muttered his name, and this time, finally turned to him. Your pale eyes ghosted over his, and Flins, for a second, thought he might just poof to dust. "Yes?" He responded, trying to speak as controlled and composed as he could (he couldn't.)
"... After all this time," you continued, voice muffled against the sea waves ahead. You looked away, then looked back with slight shame, "...i confess. You might be my favorite mortal."
Flins paused at your words, and his pale cheeks seemed to dust faintly of pink. Your shoulder swayed slightly as you spoke, and your hair followed along. You tilted your head into a sweet pose, and that's when Flins realized.
... Were you trying to flirt?
Flins called you out by your name, and you stopped dead on your tracks. Caught. Your pupils seemed to fail you, you scooted away from Flins, and a light, imposible blush seemed to dust your face.
Oh for Celestia's sake... Flins hadn't seen you blush until now, and as he currently did, he considered himself unworthy of such sight. Your blush was overwhelming yet light. Puffing your face and neck with a gentle red.
Flins uttered a laugh, slow, low and precious. "Mhm," he hummed, scooting closer, "Don't be so shy now." His hand stopped right beside yours, you didn't felt anything on your hand, but the coldness emanating from his hand was evident.
"I have to admit myself," he started. "You are also my... favorite, among the death. Captivating, if i must say." Your body seemed to lean backwards, avoiding his. Maybe out of shame, or embarassement, either way, Flins thought you looked absolutely adorable.
"... Back in the day, i used to receive compliments. Vague and empty ones, only to receive my blessings. But tell me, Krylyll, why do your words feel so...full?"
Flins' lips curled upwards into a smile, then a small sound came straight from his chest. A warm, deep laugh, it made you want to puff on the spot.
"Don't laugh.." you whined.
"Mhm..." he let out a low hum as he thought. He brought two fingers of his to press against his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut in such a caring, careful way. He pulled away from them, his body inched closer to yours as he brought the fingers to your ghostly face. If he wasnโt careful, they could've passed the surface of your skin, but he was. His fingers pressed exactly on your rosy cheek. You let put a sigh, and stopped leaning away.
"I wish. Sometimes i wish, My Lord, that i didn't have this body. I wish i could do more things with you."
He let out another hum, pretending to think. "I don't quite agree," "Why?"
Flins remained silent before speaking again, tasting each word on his mouth to make sure it was proper and didn't hurt you.
"Because, dear," he replied. "I met you in this form. If i didn't meet you like this, then, when could have i met you? Besides.."
His hand pretended to cup your cheek, without passing the skin, your smile grew a bit into something warm and uncommon.
".. I believe you are simply divine like this. Beautiful amongst death."
I'm at my grandma's. I went to the bathroom and then back to my room, i'm scared of the dark (lame, i know) so i shut the door behind me really quick. I stare at the door, and through the reflection of the door FUCKING handle i see a PERSON, turned around and it was the closet. Just shoot my ass at this point.
I saw somewhere that if you consistently get less than 8 hours of sleep, your body gets the effect of being alcoholized
This morning, as your steps fell back onto the lab, your gaze settled onto his back. Familiar, and rather.. loose. Not the usual sturdy form he stood like. He was walking around the lab. Talking to his segments, other assistants, etc.
You settled yourself, fell into old routine once more. Organizing stuff, making reports for him and studying cases that fell under the Harbinger's look.
You saw that Dottore's steps were rather... sluggish, rather tired and lazy. Almost as if his mind forced him to walk, when he didn't want to. You heard him yawn and groan a few times. And when you got too see his face? He was pale, very, around the same color as the corpse that had just arrived today. You could see the small veins on his eyes, and the contrasting pink behind it. He looked... malnourished at best, dead at worse, a few wrinkled hairs topping it off.
Your curiosity eventually got the best of you. You touched his shoulder with a single fingertip, and watched his soul almost leave his body. Well, if Dottore had any left.
"Uh... what." He responded back, with a confused expression.
"Dear are you... okay, don't get mad at me but... are you high?"
It took him a few seconds to process the question, and you slowly witnessed how the gears turned and stretched behind his eyes.
"... No. Why would... you ssay that?"
"Your eyes are red, and you've been unfocused all day. Besides... wait," you let out a soft gasp, almost seeming to catch a hint while Dottore looked as lost as the day he was born.
"Don't tell me... Dottie, have you been smoking with Pantalone?"
He shook his head a few seconds after your question. It took him a few seconds to respond, as his eyes involuntarily shifted to the side. "Nah.. no. You know i... fahcking desPIse thosse... things, dear..y."
"Then what did you do? You look so off, distracted, your eyes are red, your steps are weird, and thoseโthose stupid bags under your eyes seem to just... oh, right."
"You no.. ticed how lasT night i wassn'tโsn't there?"
"Ooh... right, right... Well, get some sleep, damnit!"
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I searched up domestic dottolone on AO3 and there were 14 fics.. damn, i gotta get to work. Btw, the second i get invited into AO3 i thiiink, i hope, i will start uploading some of my work there, only larger ones though. I might make dottolone x reader a series...
But i don't wanna put pressure on myself. Because if i do, then i'm not gonna end up doing it haha, anyways, good night for me! Sending kisses
I'm south-american, i have a pass on this LET ME TALK
People didn't want bloodshed, exactly, they just wanted battle and war. Because it's the damn nation of war. And the fact that they would want an "uncivilized" nation is because of Natlan was supposed to be based on pre-columbian america. When technology did not exist. And mind you, there were still very smart at the time, they had their own culture, gods, different civilizations and even different gardening styles. Hell, at the time, they were even more civilized and cleaner than most europeans.
I'm not saying they didn't have technology, they had their own. But the technology that was given in-game serves them no justice. Because a motorcycle? Seriously? What does that have to do with any of its culture? And i'm not saying they need to stick 100% to the nation's real culture. But they did so well with representing other cultures. But with Natlan they just fumbled. And even if they did give their characters some South-American like details, they were still very subtle, and overall disappointing comparing to what they should have and could have done instead.
It's been two years and i'm still mad about this, i'm so sorry.
Kaveh slumped against the chair he was sitting on. A small pout appeared on his lips, that your eye didn't get to catch.
You have been insisting for hours, days, even weeks to style his hair, because Kaveh's normal hair routine is basically using soap as shampoo and styling his hair in a ponytail so his clients don't notice it's messy.
So, you decided to take matters in your own hands.
Today, you woke up early, exclusively to brush Kaveh's hair. He received you with a groan, and mumbled something about Alhaitham going out before he let you in.
Now he was settled into the living room chair as you stood behind him. Still on his pajamas, groggy and messy, yet as pretty as always.
"I need to get this brush through your scalp, then i'll put a few more things.
Kaveh's hair was now distinguishly pristine. You kept on burshing it anyway. Your fingers threaded through every tender piece of hair of his, and the sunrise reflected as if it was a window. Kaveh let out a soft, lazy hum. It spilled out of his mouth involuntarily before he yawned.
"Mhm.." you heard him say. You uncapped it, and poured a bit of hair oil into your hand. Your hands carefully dived into his hair. Even if Kaveh struggled with it, you still considered it was gorgeous. It could get messy, a few strands of hair clung to his cheeks and face every morning. Sometimes, it puffed up when the weather was a bit too wet. "What can i say? No nation is perfect.." was Kaveh's way of justifying it. Or sometimes, the rare times he treated it, it was gentle. Kind to the hand, and sweeter for the nose.
You snuck your nose at the back of his head, pressing a few lazy kisses there. You heard Kaveh giggle. A sleepy and casual giggle. "Sweetie! Haha, you're spoiling me."
Ypu smiled against his hair with no words back, snuck another kiss. You pashed the brush once again, and finally started styling his hair.
Your fingers danced between strands of his hair. Up and down...in between... then down and the middle...
You made two, small braids across the top of his head. The rest of it was loose, yet neat. It looked beautiful, healthy and well-taken care of. You handed Kaveh a mirror. You noticed that Kaveh liked mirrors, looking at himself all pretty. From what you've lately gathered, he has good taste in clothing.
"AHHH, sweetie! This is so good! I look so... pretty. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Kaveh made you stand up from your chair, and just as you were about to say something he kissed you square on the lips. It wasn't passionate or slow. It was quick, but tender in a way that meant a routine. His lipstick smudged on your cheek. You didn't notice it, but your cheeks did try to replicate such color.
"Alhaithaaaam! Do you like my braids? Y/N did them for me~"
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Dude i just found my birthday gift on my fucking bed because my dad did not hide it, like๐ญ๐ญ my birthday is in two weeks, and he always leaves shit in my room but SERIOUSLY WHY
It's a Pantalone plushie and he has a BIG ASS HEAD he's so cute
So my dad just asked me id i found my birthday gift in my room, i acted like i didn't, and he said: "really? But it placed it there for you to see it." ??? WHO DOES THAT, YOU KILLED THE SURPRISE MAN
