Quiserek67

I am a gay man who has been excluded

[quiserek67]

Pantalone is the sort of person who, after sex, immediately gets out of bed to go and do whatever work he has to do.

Meanwhile, Zandik really likes to lie there for a while and daydream about cuddling with her husband

(especially in the older segments)

Up until the age of 35, they too would get out of bed to go and find something to do.

Feofan was genuinely surprised when, straight after sex, Dottore45 simply put his arms round him and wouldn’t let go, saying that if Pantalone left, he’d miss him.

(Pantalone’s office is just behind the door)

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I’m afraid the fandom will forget about Dottolone, and that these will be the first and last months we’ve been able to enjoy the art featuring Dottolone

[quiserek67]

In theory, Pantalone never bids farewell to Omega he bids farewell to the soul of the first Zandik as Omega burns alive inside the tree lol

[quiserek67]

Dottore, come back you’ve left that man with three children and, worse still, with his pockets full of cigarettes...

[quiserek67]

Pantalone has nightmares that Zandik died because of him. After Sumeru, Omega joins these nightmares; for some reason, Pantalone can’t sleep, and after a week he starts to hear their voices… He feels like he’s going mad, until finally he faints from exhaustion. He dreams that Zandik is still alive, and he really doesn’t want to wake up.

[quiserek67]

He hears voices in his head, but I can’t prove it

[quiserek67]

Zandika’s cupboards had long since stopped closing properly.

On every shelf lay boxes of chocolates, chocolate bars, pralines and sweets in decorative wrappers. Each one was a gift from Pantalone. The banker loved to shower him with sweets, even though he knew full well that Zandik wasn’t particularly fond of them. To Feofan, however, that didn’t matter. The sight of yet another chocolate in Zandik’s hands brought a smile to his face that Dottore couldn’t help but return. Especially as, when Pantalone smiled at him so sincerely, he simply couldn’t look away.

Most of the supplies disappeared anyway, thanks to 8 and 18. They regularly nicked chocolates from the laboratory they had a greater craving for chocolate than their Creator.

That day, Zandik was sitting on the edge of the desk in Pantalone’s office.

His legs were casually crossed, and his hands rested at his sides. He looked down on the banker, effectively preventing him from working. Every time Feofan tried to return to his documents, he felt that piercing gaze upon him.

He sighed quietly.

-Since you’ve so effectively interrupted my work… I hope you’ll try the box of chocolates I was given recently. I’ll fetch it straight away.

He froze, watching as Pantalone turned towards the cupboard and began searching for something.

He had to get out. That was the first thought that flashed through his mind.

The door was unblocked. All he had to do was jump off the desk and simply walk out. Pantalone wouldn’t be able to stop him. He even managed to move slightly away from the edge...

-I’ve found it!

Pantalone’s cheerful voice dashed all his hopes. Zandik closed his eyes and quietly swallowed. The very thought of those sickly sweet chocolates made him feel queasy. The smell alone was enough to make him want to vomit. Feofan returned with a broad smile and placed the open box of chocolates on the desk.

Inside were dozens of pralines filled with caramel, nut cream, raspberries, nougat… Pantalone picked one out and, without a word, lifted it to Zandik’s lips.

For a moment, he stared at it with obvious distaste.

Finally, he sighed and opened his mouth. The chocolate cracked between his teeth. The sweet filling spread across his tongue almost immediately. He grimaced. A combination of sweet cherry and alcohol… Ehhh, it could have been coffee.

-Too sweet… I can’t manage any more - he muttered with obvious displeasure.

Feofan just laughed quietly.

-I knew you’d say that.

He really loved watching Zandik eat, especially as he often forgot about his own meals… They were both capable of it, but it was Pantalone who fed him more often. He was already reaching for another praline when Zandik suddenly beat him to it. He reached into the box, grabbed a chocolate and, without warning, pressed it to Pantalone’s lips.

-Now it’s your turn.

The banker smiled gently.

He obediently took a bite of the chocolate, and as he did so, he brushed his tongue against Zandik’s fingertips, licking a little chocolate off them. Since his lover wanted to feed him just this once, he could go along with it.

He muttered quietly, feeling a tongue on his fingers. It didn’t bother him in fact, it was rather pleasant. He reached for another praline. And so it went on and on, until Pantalone even had a bit of chocolate on his lips. Feofan was already sitting on his lap, having completely forgotten about the documents. Zandik held him around the waist with one arm, whilst with the other he patiently fed him more chocolates.

-Open your mouth, be a good boy for me...

"I hope these sweets will go straight to your boobs" - he thought

Feofan obediently parted his lips each time, accepting the next bite with obvious delight. His eyes sparkled with genuine happiness. Until, finally, he wanted to lean in and kiss his beloved, at which point the dottore merely narrowed his eyes and leaned back. Feofan simply licked his lips and burst out laughing, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

[quiserek67]

Imagine a brief scene.

Omega invites Pantalone into the laboratory just before setting off for Sumer.

As Feofan crosses the threshold of the building, he immediately senses that something is amiss.

The laboratory is unnaturally clean.

There are no scattered vials, open notes or traces of unfinished experiments. Every tool rests exactly where it should. The glassware gleams, and the polished floor reflects the light like a mirror.

His gut told him this wasn’t just ordinary tidiness. It looked as though no one had ever worked here. Without a word, Pantalone heads for Dottore’s office. Soft music drifts from beneath the door. He doesn’t knock, because he’s never had to.

He gently turns the handle, and the door swings open.

Omega is standing by his desk, relaxed, without his mask, looking straight at his new visitor.

The office looks just as sterile as the rest of the laboratory. The chair is tucked under the desk, the documents have vanished, and all the instruments have been thoroughly cleaned and put back in their places. The smell of the room was reminiscent of an operating theatre, as if someone had gone to great lengths to erase every trace of their presence.

Pantalone knew. From the moment Omega had asked to meet him before leaving, he’d had a feeling that this evening would be a farewell.

He hadn’t expected it to turn out quite like this, though. The melody playing in the background was painfully familiar. Feofan remembered when they’d first heard it. He remembered every turn, every laugh and every glance exchanged during that dance.

For a moment, his eyes stung. Yet he did not let the tears fall. Omega was preparing for death. He did not want to burden him with his own pain. Instead, he set off. Every step echoed off the immaculately clean floor. He stopped right in front of him and held out his hand. Inviting him to dance.

Omega looked at him for a brief moment, as if he’d been expecting it, as if he knew that Pantalone would understand. He took his hand.

The music led them of its own accord. Step by step.

Hand in hand. Body to body.

They danced as if the world were ending with the last note of the melody, and that long moment lasted forever, at least for Omega. He wanted to say goodbye to his partner in this way. For Pantalone, however, the music marked the end of everything he had built with this man.

Not a single word was spoken throughout the entire dance.

They didn’t need them. The silence spoke volumes. It told of the years they’d spent together, of the trust built up slowly, of feelings neither of them had ever been able to put into words.

The last piece was a slow dance. Pantalone remembered it perfectly. He’d once danced it with Zandik, before the world had managed to rob them of their peace. Halfway through the melody, he drew Omega closer and lifted him gently, as if trying to stop time for just a moment. Their lips met in a quiet kiss. There was no passion in it.

There was longing. There was fear… There was the despair of a man who could not come to terms with the impending parting.

Pantalone kissed him as if he wanted to remember that moment for the rest of his life.

As if he were trying to convey, in a single gesture, everything he’d failed to say over the years; as if it were all still too short for them. When he pulled away, he helped Omega sit down on the edge of the desk. Their foreheads touched. Their breaths mingled in the silence.

They smiled sadly at each other, exchanging brief, gentle brushes of their lips, as if death, waiting outside the laboratory door, didn’t have the courage to come inside… As if nothing could hurt them as long as they were together.

-We haven’t danced in a long time, Doctor. What’s brought about this change? - asked Feofan quietly.

He stood between his knees and tenderly ran his fingers through Omega’s light hair.

Dottore closed his eyes, leaning against Pantalone.

-We’ve both had too much work on our plates lately,- He said, a gentle smile playing on his face. - I wanted… this evening to belong only to us.

He wrapped his arms around Pantalone’s neck. Today he wasn’t wearing a mask. He wasn’t wearing gloves. Just his signature blue shirt and the black leather straps across it. He wasn’t hiding; he was being himself… as ordinary as he could possibly be with this man. Feofan gently took his hands, intertwining his own fingers with them.

- In that case, let’s not think about tomorrow.

For a long while, they sat in silence, gazing only at one another. Both were trying to commit every detail of that face, every breath and every glance to memory.

Pantalone’s greatest devotion lay not in words or promises; his greatest devotion was to remain with this man until the very end, until every part of his soul had crumbled away.

(I’d started writing ‘smut’ here, but I really wanted to share this bit already

50 likes and it’ll be posted :3)

[quiserek67]

Pantalone didn’t know how to behave around Dottore8, so the first time their awkward encounter was dragging on, Pantalone suddenly blurted out, “Fancy a cigarette?”

To which 8 merely blinked, looking confused.

“Do you believe in Aranare?”

“What’s that?”

“I was just about to ask the same thing…”

Zandik was laughing from the other room as he listened to their conversation.

[quiserek67]

I’m dedicating my whole life to the gentle Pantalone and the bashful Dottore at the start of their relationship.

[quiserek67]

On that day, Zandik asked Feofan to come to the laboratory for a routine check-up. These took place once every six months.

At that time, Feofan was not yet a Harbinger. He was merely a subordinate of Dottore, responsible for managing Mora and the finances of research projects. Nevertheless, almost every time he visited the laboratory, it ended with a brief chat, as if they were friends. Zandik believed that, since Feofan worked for him, his health was also part of his responsibilities. The doctor stood by one of the worktops, jotting down further notes in the medical records.

-The results are normal… blood pressure unchanged… blood count as well.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the rustle of paper. Suddenly, he sighed heavily.

-However, your lungs look worse than they did six months ago.

Feofan raised an eyebrow.

-You’ve been smoking more.

It wasn’t a question.

Zandik didn’t even look up from his papers.

-I can see that without needing to carry out any further tests. If you carry on at this rate, in a few years’ time you’ll start to feel the consequences yourself.

Feofan shrugged.

-I’ll survive.

-That’s not a medical argument.

The dottore put down his pen, brushed his fair hair back, and only then turned to face the man sitting on the couch. He leaned his hips against the tabletop, holding the results sheet in his hands. Feofan sat calmly, his hands clasped on his lap, waiting for a further assessment of his health. However, Zandik remained silent. Pantalone furrowed his brow slightly.

-What’s the matter? Are my lungs really in such a bad state?

For a split second, an absurd thought flashed through his mind that he was about to hear his sentence. Dottore seemed genuinely serious.

Zandik blinked.

It was only now that he clearly remembered the other person couldn’t read his mind.

-No. It’s not about the lungs… It’s just… I like you, Feofan.

There was a silence.

-I like you on… a more chemical level, one I’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

He furrowed his brow slightly, clearly unhappy with his choice of words.

-Do you understand what I’m trying to say?

Feofan looked at him in silence for a moment. Coming from the doctor, such a confession could mean so many different things.

That’s why he decided to tease him a little longer.

-What exactly do you mean? I’m not sure what that statement means… coming from my doctor.- He was playing the fool, and he was good at it.

Zandik immediately looked away.

-Forget it.

He held the results sheet almost right up to his nose, effectively using it to hide his face.

-Let’s move on to the tests. Complete blood count…

He didn’t even manage to read the first line.

Feofan stepped forward and gently set the test results aside.

Zandik froze. Pantalone was now standing right in front of him. So close that only a few centimetres separated them. The doctor followed his movements with ruby-red eyes, hitherto hidden behind the mask. He felt his cheeks begin to burn. He’d probably never been quite so embarrassed before. He didn’t step back there was nowhere to go; the tabletop effectively prevented him from moving.

-Have you… ever…?- Feofan began.

-No.

The reply came immediately. Short, cold and firm, it spoke volumes to the much younger man.

- I’ve never even tried. I’ve never thought of anyone that way.

Feofan raised his hand and, for the first time in all the years they’d known each other, touched Zandik’s cheek. In all that time, he’d never crossed that fine line. They’d been close, but never in that way. He gently slipped his fingers under the edge of the mask. He did it slowly. So that Dottore could push his hand away or say ‘no’ at any moment. Yet he did neither. He stood motionless, staring at Feofan, as if he himself didn’t know whether he wanted to run away or stay. The mask clinked softly against the tabletop as Pantalone set it down.

For the first time in a very long while, someone was looking at his face with no barrier between them. So close…

Feofan placed two fingers on his cheek.

He wasn’t examining him. He wasn’t judging him. He was simply running his fingertips slowly over the uneven skin, memorising every detail of the scars.

Light-coloured, irregular streaks covered the left side of his face like a web of cracks on broken porcelain. They began high on his forehead, crossed his eyebrow and temple, then ran down his cheek to his jaw. They didn’t resemble thin blade marks. They looked as though the flesh had once been brutally torn apart, and then forced to heal back together again.

Feofan knew where they came from.

They were the price he’d paid for the experiment. Some of the scars ran so close to his eye that they caused his eyelid to tense slightly. Because of this, his left eye always seemed to be slightly half-closed. Yet it was the irises themselves that drew the most attention.

Ruby-red. Deep as smouldering embers, streaked with golden highlights. Usually, they looked cool and analytical, as if everything around them were merely another experiment. Now there was no coolness in them. They were tense and uncertain

-Please… Here is my face. You’ve seen me dozens of times. What’s changed now? Do you think I’m a monster?

Feofan did not reply. Instead, he took half a step forward. With one hand, he ran his fingers through Zandik’s hair with the other, he continued to cup his cheek, as if to show that he had no intention of letting him go. That he was not judging him. He leaned in, and his lips gently brushed one of the largest scars. Then the next one. He wasn’t kissing them out of pity. He was kissing them tenderly.

Dottore’s hands clenched the edge of the tabletop so tightly that the knuckles turned white. His whole body was tense, as if it didn’t know how to react to something so… gentle.

Feofan laughed softly and finally pressed their lips together. The kiss was brief. Barely a brush, lasting only a moment. He didn’t want to overwhelm a man who had never kissed anyone before and for whom even physical closeness was something alien.

When he pulled away, Zandik was still standing motionless. His eyes were wide open. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t manage a single word. Feofan smiled to himself, brushed his lips against Zandik’s jaw once more, and headed for the door.

The door closed quietly. Only then did Dottore remember how to breathe.

He gasped for air. A second later, the door creaked open again.

Feofan poked his head into the office with the same calm, sly smile.

-Ah… and I like you just as much as you like me. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow. I really do have too much work to do today.

He closed the door as if he’d just arranged the next payment of the mory into his bank account.

Silence fell over the laboratory. Dottore stood motionless for quite a while longer.

Finally, he blinked.

-…What exactly does a date involve?

(I really enjoy reading your comments lol)

[quiserek67]

Dottore makes a point of booking seats in the smoking section at the theatre so that Feofan can at least enjoy that, rather than sitting there as if it were a punishment, like a sulky child. However, things take a different turn. When the lights go down and the performance has been underway for a few moments. Dottore feels a hand on his thigh. Slender fingers glide higher and higher, finally coming to near his crotch. Dottore didn’t take his eyes off the performance for a moment; he simply let the man next to him get on with it. Perhaps it was a doctor’s curiosity about what would happen next, or perhaps something else entirely. Eventually, his gaze falls on Pantalone: on one side, his closed eyes are fixed on the performance; in one hand he holds a cigarette, whilst the other rests on Dottore’s thigh.

-I thought you had a bit more decency, my dear.

-Why do you suspect me of such things?

To this day, no one knows why or how the Dottore lost his trousers in the theatre, but when the lights came on, a certain woman could have sworn that the doctor’s trousers were hanging on the theatre balcony.

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(Someone please cut me off from my brain

I can’t think about them any longer)

Everyone focuses on the fact that Pantalone opens his eyes. Or perhaps the meaning runs much deeper?

Perhaps he’d kept them closed until now because he felt safe. With Dottore/Zandik. He didn’t have to constantly watch his surroundings or remain on alert. He could allow himself a moment’s peace, knowing he was safe.

Now everything has changed. In the latest trailer, Pantalone utters just one sentence, but he does so with his eyes open. It’s a small detail that might say more than a long dialogue. Perhaps he no longer feels safe enough to keep them closed for any length of time.

Feofan has become a widower. He is alone. And the world can be a cruel place for him.

[quiserek67]

Dottore(18) had once discovered that Pantalone’s breasts were exceptionally effective at helping him calm down.

That day, he desperately needed some peace and quiet to work. Meanwhile, behind the wall, 25 was making such a racket that it sounded as though the whole laboratory was about to collapse. All the segments were right there, so there was no chance of peace and quiet.

The young man looked around the corridor, grabbed his notebook and strode confidently towards Feofan’s office. He had long wondered why Pantalone couldn’t have an office closer to the laboratory. It would have spared him all those long walks. And not just him.

When he arrived, he found Pantalone bent over a pile of documents. A perfectly ordinary sight. Feofan immediately understood the situation. Without asking any unnecessary questions, he moved some of the papers aside, making room for the 18. Situations like this had happened before.

- Sit down. At least it’s quiet here.

The minutes passed in almost complete silence. The only sound was the steady ticking of the clock standing in the corner of the office.

Despite the calm atmosphere, 18 still couldn’t relax. With one hand he was writing the report, whilst with the other he was nervously biting his nails. This month, the task of preparing the report for Pierro had fallen to him, and the very thought of it was effectively raising his stress levels.

Pantalone stopped working and looked at the young man. He immediately noticed his tense shoulders, the nervous movements of his hands and his furrowed brow.

He sighed quietly.

-You’re feeling stressed. Would you like to sit closer to me? Or… on my lap?

18 looked up from his notes. He was so taken aback that for a moment he couldn’t utter a word. He’d never imagined he’d hear such a suggestion from Pantalone. Yes, he wanted to be closer to him, but he felt their relationship wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

Pantalone merely smiled gently, pulled his chair back and patted his lap.

After a moment’s hesitation, 18 stood up and walked over to him. He sat down carefully on his lap, face to face, avoiding the office owner’s gaze. He felt awkward. Pantalone put his arm round him calmly and drew him gently towards him.

-It’ll be more comfortable this way.

He adjusted his spectacles and, without the slightest disruption, returned to perusing the documents, as if such situations were an everyday occurrence. At first, 18 sat stiffly, not even knowing where to put his hands. However, with every passing minute, the tension slowly subsided. The warmth radiating from Pantalone and the silence of the office had a surprisingly soothing effect. Eventually, he almost melted into his embrace. After a moment, Feofan spoke in a calm tone.

-You know… Zandik, when he was stressed, would squeeze my breasts so hard that he left bruises on them.

-Was that meant to encourage me to try it myself?

A barely perceptible smile appeared on Pantalone’s lips.

-Take it however you like.

That day, 18 discovered that the Banker’s breasts were truly large and soft.

[quiserek67]

Pantalone teaches Dottore(18) how to kiss. They are sitting on the bed, close together. Pantalone leans in closer and closer, his hand resting on the back of Dottore's head. The younger man blushes deeply and can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He isn't ready for something so intimate. At one point, he slips out of Pantalone's embrace before their lips touch.

He runs to the other end of the room, He turns to face the wall. He feels that this is the end for him and that Pantalone will start laughing

However, all he hears are Pantalone's quiet footsteps behind him, slowly drawing nearer. Pantalone slips his hands around Dottore's waist and rests his head on his shoulder whilst Dottore continues to stare at the wall.

"Don't run away like that, we don't have to do this if you don't want to,"

Dottore moans pitifully, turning slowly towards Feofan. "I don't know how to kiss."A quiet laugh reached Dottore's ears, momentarily disorienting him. "I'm here to teach you" He began to shower his neck with light kisses, savouring every inch of skin. His jawline, and finally a gentle kiss on the lips. He looked into Dottore's eyes, which darted around the room, not knowing what to do with themselves. Feofan placed his hand on his cheek, stroking it. He smiled gently when the red eyes finally focused on him. He was so adorable. He pressed their lips together for a little longer, moving them gently so as not to frighten the dottore. He loved him

[quiserek67]

We all know that Pantalone and Dottore dance slow dances, BUT what if they also dance something faster, like ‘Everybody Home’ or other up-tempo tracks where Dottore leads the dance

(Pantalone prefers slow songs and leads in those)