Ａｎａｔｈｅｍａ

『Grim』 Taken by the fae, came back wrong • They/Them • 31

[enemyn0tf0und]

About me

✦ You can call me Grim or Di

✦ 31

✦ Any pronouns. Mostly they/he

✦ Esp|Eng. Learning mandarin.

✦ Autistic. No need to use tone indicators.

Fandom (main)

✦ Genshin Impact

✦ Honkai Star Rail

✦ Bungo Stray Dogs

Socials

✦ Discord Enemyn0tf0und

✦ Twitter (+18)

✦ XHS

✦ Instagram

݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ Pleased to meet you! Let's be friends ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆

[familywhitesilk]

Frankenstein would want your mind, your lovely head

[ayaraki]

And then... the Heavenly Principles spoiled our love. I almost doubt whether it was ever true at all. One should not throw fragile driftwood to a drowning person. Nor give the illusion of warmth to those freezing to death. Death is not the enemy of love. The real enemy is the blessings given by deluded gods.

[something-or-otherwise]

based on a fanfic i have yet to finish will reblog this post witb ao3 link when it is

*reuploaded bc i forgot a few details

[novolunni]

The story so far ✨

I didn't expect to have so much fun with them

[illegal-d]

Let the man return, let him be playable... 🐦‍⬛✨

[novolunni]

Don't worry (or do)! The Doctor is here ✨

[key-ofdestiny]

are you lost?

i was searching for liminal spaces for inspo and my friend helped me to choose one pic ww

i love the dottolings

twt link~

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - XXII

“Marry me.”

He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope.

“Just for a year. A marriage of convenience. Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.”

Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality. Slow burn. Semi-enemies to lovers. Rated Explicit.

On AO3 here.

[i-mjusttired]

Oh Hydro Archon, oh Hydro Archon, now that I pray, do you finally see me?💧

⚠️This could conflict with information and elements of the canon.⚠️

Anyway! Not long ago, I got into a discussion with a friend, and the topic of prayers to the Archons came up; the idea that Zandik (or even Feofan, though that’s perhaps a bit different) prayed to a specific god,and whenever he received no answer, it never even crossed his mind that a different god might answer if he tried.

The idea of Zandik going to Fontaine to see Furina perform is partly inspired by a fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/87143106/chapters/230780116

that one of my followers on tik tok made! I recommend you take a look because it's very beautiful!! (Unfortunately I don't know if they have a tumbler account (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠))

I tried to make Focalors as inhuman as possible,if one can put it that way. She isn't there to comfort a dying man, nor is she there to provide the answers he’s seeking. She is simply a higher entity casting a glance at the final moments of a dying human.

[doc-shai-tea]

The thought of this is heartbreaking

[samcsao3]

I had to draw Sandrone at the opera encountering these two ... Again

[fenkko]

how omega dottore and segment 8 ask pantalone for funding

[chazchaschad]

I do not have a "side blog”, I do not “schedule posts”. I torture my followers with random bullshit and if that doesn’t work I KILL MYSELF

[boundinparchment]

Please spare us crumbs of vampire! Old man zandik pleaseee the idea so scrumptious I don't mind being his capri sun 😊 the aesthetic of lovers meeting in the night... The inherent eroticism of vampire oughhh

[boundinparchment]

I’ll see myself out 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

[familywhitesilk]

''We are nothing more than his puppets. Don't you want to be truly free?''

[boundinparchment]

old man zandik and his internal struggle of lusting for someone far younger than him. pervy old man and the kinks he thought were long buried breeding that he just wants to absolutely corrupt reader with

He thought he’d long buried such base impulses. After all, his physical drive wasn’t what it used to be, and that worked in his favor; his mind was still sharp and he was capable of putting his full focus on research and enjoying what time he had left.

Time.

He’d already wasted so much of it.

And seeing you every day, vibrant, capable, experienced enough without having been beaten by the world…still supple, soft in the places it mattered…

He throbbed at the notion of seeing you spread before him, seed leaking out of you, your velvet walls accepted his fingers as he pushed it back inside. Not a drop wasted. Feeling you tighten around his digits, your body hungry for more, skin flush and lips swollen.

Especially when he could smell the change in your cycle. Some days you leaned too close to him when sharing a book and comparing notes. He came so quickly as soon as you departed, playing with the sticky substance and wishing desperately all of it hadn’t been wasted.

You were already beautiful but seeing your body change because of him, knowing it was by his hand and his cock that you glowed? It did something vicious to him on a carnal level that he simultaneously hated and further indulged in.

Maybe you’d be amenable to it, to every attempt, regardless of the energy it took. If he did one final thing before life ran its course, he might just die happy feeling you squeeze every drop from his cock and seeing you swollen with child.

He was a fool for thinking anything else was a worthy legacy. Once he died, there would be nothing organic left. No trace of him except in the occasional note and passing word.

The Segments would never be capable of such a thing.

Only him.

He squeezed his aching member. You are visiting this afternoon and, if he calculated correctly, the timing might be perfect.