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Patience
A moment between Dottore and his young daughter. Established Dottore/Original Female Character. Part of the Heretic and Forsaken series.
“Ya ruhi” > “my soul”
“Abi” > “Father”
A faint tugging barely tore Zandik’s attention away from the report in front of him. Without breaking his focus, he spoke softly, only enough edge in his voice to warn, never scare.
“Remember: be gentle.”
“Blue,” came the reply, proud and excited.
“Yes, that’s blue. What else is blue, ya ruhi?” he prompted.
“Hair!”
Out of the corner of his eye, the Harbinger caught a tiny hand reaching for his hair. She was dexterous for her age, eager and excited; however, she didn’t know her strength and Zandik was well aware of the consequences of it. Deftly, he reached up and redirected her hand so she gripped his fingers instead.
“Yes, my hair is blue. So is yours.”
He skimmed the rest of the report and then cast the paper aside. There was still plenty to do, especially in the aftermath of it all. He needed to oversee soil and water samples for traces of elemental energy, evaluate Leyline flare-ups from residual memories that didn’t burn properly, allocating resources and smoothing over conflicts. The latter was hardly his problem directly but Pierro would ask and it was better to have an answer ready.
Without Archons, humanity could take back the reins, finally. They would know this world and all its secrets and wonders.
It would be better. Born through refreshing fires, sprouting from the ashes anew.
“Abi?”
It was refreshing to hear his language from someone else and caught him every time. He'd been away for so long, shunned from it, but he could never truly erase the traces. Karina emphasized that she wanted their child to know who they were, where they came from, and language was vital. He agreed (after all, he'd studied dozens of them himself) and was filled with an odd sense of pride every time he watched eyes glow when something clicked in her growing mind.
His daughter shifted in his lap and tapped her hand to his cheek softly before she experimented and brushed over the scruff he hadn’t bothered with as of late. She giggled, running her hand one way and then another. He never grew out an entire beard (too much maintenance) but some mornings, there was no time for more than scrubbing away the day’s dirt. Especially when Karina was away.
Zandik carefully pried her hand from his face and blew kisses into her palm. She squealed and his heart lurched at the sound.
This world needed more of that.
“Having fun, ya ruhi?” he teased.
Her smile was an echo of her mother’s; congenial and sweet in a way his never could be. Eyes like emeralds, so verdant that he’d been bizarrely relieved. But then he was left with the question of how recessive red eyes were after all; he would find out eventually, he supposed, if Karina was willing. Such gems contrasted with a head full of thick blue curls, her one defining and unmistakable trait of her parentage.
“Yes! Love abi!”
“I love you, too. It’s late. Do you want to—“
“‘Spection!”
The little girl threw her arms wide, narrowly missing her father’s nose. Her diction would come with time, he reminded himself as he collected her in his arms.
“Exactly. We’ll inspect the lab and make sure everything is safe. And then it’s bedtime.”
He felt the pout more than he saw it, an idle hand playing with his earring as they walked.
“Sleep is important, ya ruhi,” he chastised carefully.
She couldn’t fall into his habits. As wide as her eyes were about the world, she had time for it all. And he wouldn’t sacrifice her wellbeing for his selfishness of wanting these moments to last longer.
The quiet was better than outright protest, but only just. Her acceptance of authority made these moments easier, certainly. Soon enough, she’d be telling everyone no and seeing how far she could get.
Soon enough, she’d be too big to be carried.
Zandik shifted her slightly to rearrange his hold as he pushed open the door to the laboratory. Nothing as grand as what he had at the Palace but large enough that he could do as he needed. He went about, pointing to things and speaking clearly, letting her touch what wasn’t dangerous, asking her simple yes or no questions. Now was not the time to engage in larger topics but if she asked, he answered in ways that felt complete enough for now.
She could learn about crystalflies properly another time.
He watched her face light up as he tidied up his desk and locked away important papers. Really, the most imperative things were in his mind, but written records were crucial.
“Mama!”
An excited hand pointed to the metal arm resting on a stand atop his desk. The plating was removed, wires dangling in organized heaps, the sharp fingers angled like a claw.
“That’s right,” Zandik said before he kissed the girl’s temple. “Mama’s arm.”
Karina came back with a strained expression and the arm in her good hand. The device was made of the strongest metal and the finest circuitry; he’d crafted it with care he didn’t know he was capable of. She’d handed over the arm with an apologetic kiss and then hugged their daughter tight with her good arm, holding back an expression he hadn’t seen since…
“Abi fix mama?” She said it with an upwards inflection, the way she did when a toy broke or something went wrong. Worried for nothing except her mother being able to hug her.
Zandik held the child in his arms a little tighter.
“Yes. Yes, abi will fix mama’s arm.”
#Ahhhhh!!#this was so tender and sweet!!#love just seeing the dynamic between these teo#two**#and i’m obsessed with dadtorre in this oh goodness gracious#my heart is so big and full after reading this
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Theyre just two scared kids who want to hold onto something familiar and be loved again man that’s so fucked up im gonna go punch a wall or something idfk
#i don’t play the game/not in the fandom but this is genuinely so beautiful#love love love the colors & pose u used ugh#nomming on this actually
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Memento Mori - Chapter 4
Dottore x reader
One tragedy never arrives alone
Two crows never a bore
Three meetings never a coincidence
Doubt takes root when one decision comes at a price no one could hope to pay. And when praying and pleading with the divine does nothing to dull the ache, it's only natural that curious eyes will look to other means.
When an opportunity at redemption presents itself in the shape of a Harbinger, you're all too willing to cast aside reservations and take him up on his word.
Dottore laughs in the face of adversity, yet all he can feels in the company of his newest research assistant is rage gnawing away at him as everything is derailed.
Info/tags: Il Dottore x fem reader, research assistant!reader, nuisances to lovers, eventual angst, eventual smut, eventual ending, fem reader with backstory and personality, possibly not very likeable MC, mostly canon compliant, slow burn, tags subject to change as I write
Minors, ageless blogs, blanks DNI - I mean it
Found on Ao3
#god bestie#i just read this and i am on the edge of my seat#tho i won’t lie i would die for reader 😭😭😭like when he basically refers to her as not a ‘bright mind’ it lowkey killed me#im also very curious to learn more about reader#and especially excited for the next chapter now#definitely felt a lot of things in this chapter for sure#you should be proud everything was amazingly written god
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If you're lamenting the fact that you used to be able to shoot through a 500-page novel in like a day when you were in middle school and now you can't, it's worth bearing in mind that a big part of that is because when you were in middle school, your reading comprehension sucked. Yes, mental health and the stresses of adult life can definitely be factors, but it's also the case that reading is typically more effortful as an adult because you've learned to Ponder The Implications. The material isn't just skimming over the surface of your brain anymore, and some of the spoons you used to spend on maximising your daily page count are now spent on actually thinking about what you're reading!
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words: 1063
warnings: dottore but not (it's a segment), probably ooc, most likely a ton of plot holes, mentions of experimentation
notes: I contemplated posting this because I'm nervous, but I mustered up the courage to do so. I haven't written for Genshin Impact before. Maybe I'll write something proper eventually.
I was just thinking about Dottore and what would happen if he made another segment after Sumeru, and if that segment escaped with a former test subject. I don't even know if that's possible lol.
This is just a scene that came to mind, and I wrote it.
Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors ♥
The metal clasp breaks as he yanks the earring from his lobe, its jagged edge ripping through his ear. In an instant, the connection is severed, the voice in his head fading out and leaving him alone with his thoughts for the first time since his creation. The silence is both unsettling and a relief, though a part of him resists, for once questioning his own judgment. His gaze flickers to you, the neon glow catching your eyes in the darkness long enough to give him pause. There is no time to dwell on the vial that rests in the palm of his hand; it’s a useless distraction—a flaw in his existence.
Without further delay, he throws the vial onto the ground with more force than necessary, the glass shattering beneath his boot. Bright blue liquid stains his feet and seeps into the wooden floorboards.
He almost mourns the loss.
His creator breathed life into him for the sole purpose of his research. He can understand the reasoning behind his conception; however, the scales did not tip in his favor. Orders were given, and he was meant to follow without question, a mere puppet in the grand scheme of things. He may be one segment of a whole, but his mind is far too great to be squandered. Those who came before him lacked his fortitude, all too happy to waste away for a man who could care less about whether they lived or died. He learned from their past failures and swore he would be more than a means to an end.
“Doctor . . . Dottore . . .” It’s almost comical how easily you draw him from his thoughts; he has yet to decide if he finds it amusing or worrisome. He’s stuck with you for now, he might as well humor you in the meantime. “Is everything okay?”
“Never better,” he drawls, folding his arms behind his back. An air of uncertainty hangs over you, and the hint of fear in your voice as you utter his name does not go unnoticed by him. Of course, you fear him—that is a given. Your concern for him is not. There are not many things in this world that perplex him, and somehow you do.
The boat lurches forward, and your face pales considerably, sweat beading on your brow.
“You, on the other hand, look like you’ve seen better days.”
His gaze lingers on you, observing how your frail human body trembles from the cold, a small reminder of your mortality. You’re not properly dressed for the bitter Snezhnayan weather, and he wonders how well you’ll fare in such conditions. The cabin provides shelter, albeit not enough to drive away the eternal chill that permeates the region.
Logically, he knows you are worthless to him. You’re weak—a liability. He should dispose of you, otherwise you’ll drag him down, and he can’t afford that. There is no reason he shouldn’t, so why does he falter? Your frightened expression flashes in his mind’s eye, and he recalls the sound of your pitiful sobs as he bent you to his will, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Except it wasn’t him, not really, and he’s oddly comforted by this fact. Besides, he gave you his word; the least he can do is see you to Fontaine. He’ll simply have to tolerate your presence until then.
He steps forward.
You take a step back, and he chuckles despite himself.
You’re so insufferably human.
“I believe I have something that belongs to you.” He reaches into his coat pocket, procuring your Vision from within. “A peace offering of sorts, perhaps?”
Your eyes brighten, flitting between him and the Vision resting in his hand. Slowly, you reach out, the pendant gleaming as your fingers caress its surface. Even beneath his gloves he can feel the warmth radiating off it, and the way you smile softly in return, your gaze lingering on him longer than you ever dared, is much preferable to what he remembers. He barely registers your mumbled words of thanks, preoccupied with the drop of your shoulders as the tension eases from your muscles, and how you linger in his presence instead of pulling away.
The light of your Vision emphasizes the dark circles under your eyes; your cheeks are windburned and lips cracked and bloody. The smile on your face looks out of place when your expression is otherwise solemn—haunted—betraying your emotions. You haven’t complained thus far or requested his assistance, picking up the slack with a determination that surprised him as you trudged through the ice and snow and managed to keep pace with him. It’s a miracle you survived experimentation. Your files painted a different picture, one of a pitiful and broken test subject to be neutralized .
Has luck shone down upon you or is there more to you than meets the eye? Perhaps he can put that theory to the test.
“Sleep.” It’s not a request but a demand, and you don’t argue. “Doctor’s orders.”
With a heavy sigh you drop into bed; all too eager it seems. A couple minutes pass and your breathing evens out as you drift off to sleep, your Vision clutched to your chest. Beneath the blankets, you shiver, your breath fanning out in front of you with each rise and fall of your chest. What a shame it would be to have you succumb to the cold so soon. You’re far more entertaining alive. For the moment, at least.
He drapes his coat over you, and you instinctively snuggle into its warmth.
You need it more than he does.
The floorboards creak underfoot as he paces back and forth. His mind races, his thoughts louder in the quiet, and he growls in frustration. He’s never felt so restless, his hands itching to move, to create, to turn his ideas into a reality. Even a piece of paper and pen would do—he has neither. In Fontaine he’ll have access to all that more, but the desire that burns within him is both great and painful, threatening to consume him in his entirety.
Your snores break the silence, and he glowers in your direction. The sound aggravates his already frayed nerves, and so he counts them to alleviate some of the pressure.
It’s going to be a long night.
A very long night, indeed.
#oh this was good VERY good#love the atmosphere of this story and how visual it was#i also really am loving the plot of this fic 💖
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what'd you do at the theater the first time?
shoot abraham lincoln in the head
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please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts
#yes#and especially here lately it’s been bad enough i’ve wanted to scrap ideas im so excited about#but i know this is just something us writers are inevitably gonna feel at one point#i try to remember how much joy writing gives me and it brings me bacj#that and open up about it with friends
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guys i’m thinking about dottore again send help ☹️💙
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rahhhhh thank you cherry!! i love this picrew omg?? i did me/my oc’s with albedo & mister dottore hehe 🫶🏻
tagging: @auphelia @ellalalala @fleur-de-leap and anyone else who wants to do this 🫶🏻💙
picrew chain ! ૮꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ´` ྀི꒱ა
make you & your fav nestled in the snow hehe
tagging ! @lovelyluc @tetzoro @clubkira @achy-boo + anyone else who wants to do this !
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