As you guys may already know by my reposts, my top priority is to spread the Dottore agenda everywhere.
Whether it’s fanart or fanfics idc.
BUT- my MAIN agenda is to spread the Dottore with a breeding kink headcanon. There’s just no denying it for me 👏 specially after that Archon quest. You cannot tell me that pathetic and evil man doesn’t yearn for a family. Of course he’d have a breeding kink in a sick and twisted way- So just know that if you see a breeding and pregnancy Dottore fanfic or ramble around there… It may be my fault.
Ps: I believe and support reproductive rights and abortion 100%. Just because I’d let this man breed me with like 5 kids doesn’t mean other people want that as well. Plus all of this is fantasy lol.
hello aimee!! not sure if your slots filled- as of now i see 1/2👁️ but anyway.. smtn smtn 45 taking reader out and about to shop? think he’d definitely spoil them, especially if it builds good credibility for his character, since he’s more or less the representative of the segments and dottore’s identity🎀 he does it for good ethos but then he finds some enjoyment in being dragged along a little<3
yes.. YES YES I LOVE THIS IDEA..
You knew that each segment was a representation of the saying “time and place”. For example, if you were feeling upset about something, there was no way you would approach twenty-five about your worries. You were certain the younger segment would ridicule you about wasting your time on something that clearly bothered you. Of the various moods you may be in, you carefully picked which segment to approach based on their personality type — which was key to getting along with all of them.
Your favorite segment to go outside with was forty-five. He was more socially present to be around (and more so Zandik would make him go with you).
Going into the shopping district in the nation was one of your favorite downtime activities. You loved to see what each store had to offer — from clothes, to shoes, miscellaneous items that benefit your daily life or things you can put in your room. One thing was for certain, forty-five always got what you wanted.
Saw the cutest music box with a ceramic fairy that reminded you of something from your childhood? It was darling, but did you genuinely need it? Unfortunately you decided to put it back with a sigh of regret, longing for the blue box before walking away. The older segment watched you closely as you wandered off into a different part of the market before picking it up with gloved hands, inspecting the trinket and wondering how something so minuscule could cause a drastic reaction. Nonetheless, he would buy it.
When it comes to clothes, forty-five loves to give feedback. Perhaps that white coat with black fur would look great with the matching white boots. The winter storms were about to kick in and you were in dire need of proper clothing (despite the numerous coats you have stored in your room). Or perhaps you wanted a more sophisticated outfit for Fatui gatherings that complimented you just right — and he would manage to sweet talk you into considering it. Only problem was you felt extremely guilty spending that much mora on something you may wear once, or twice if lucky. Forty-five silences you and tells you to grab what you want, to not mind the price tag that would unfortunately catch your attention. Even if you went back and forth with the man, you could never win. How could you decline something as sweet as that?
He would take note of the amount of bags he would end up holding towards the end of your outing. You felt a small pit in your stomach when you realized that you may have went overboard and offer to hold anything, but even though he was The Doctor, ‘heretic’ they called him, he was still a gentleman and refused your offer. He would say that he was not incompetent to hold a few bags and would take insult to your offer.
Forty-Five definitely appreciates the mundane life or simple activities such as this. Prior to this stage in his life, everything revolved around research, something that always took up his time. He still was Dottore after all and nothing was as important as his studies, but at his age and starting to get older, he felt as if there was nothing wrong with enjoying a few things every now and then, especially if it meant drawing pleasant reactions from you <3
finally unlocked nod krai just so i can grind for columbina and aino but i can't stop thinking about dottore. i haven't played through the nod krai archon quest but i watched my sister do so and we both love dottore.
i have always been a sucker for yanderes and dottore fits the definition completely.
a lot of people write dottore as a cold and calculating manipulator which he is but i think pathetic and needy yandere!dottore is underappreciated.
yes i want to be held captive but i also want the neediness to outweigh the control. i want to know that i wasn't the only one powerless in this situation. nothing is more interesting than a couple both trapped in shackles but differently.
♡ yandere!dottore who can only function when he's wearing a vial of your blood on his person. he knows how inefficient he is when he's around you and he can't afford the distraction but he needs to feel your presence and what is more present than the fluid that ensures your continued survival?
♡ yandere!dottore who learns how to sew his own clothing so he can wear your hair. whatever your follicles can't keep is embedded into his coat, keeping him warm from the frigid weather
♡ yandere!dottore who starts his day by mixing your saliva into his morning coffee. nothing better than your beloved's digestive enzymes working alongside yours. he dreads mornings less when he knows he'll have the privilege of swallowing your dna
my singular mermay contribution is that i would love to be a mermaid stuck in some scientist or rich kid/nobleman's tank that they either found or they inherited and they know nothing about me nor do i choose to communicate with them bc i am Angry but because they are so isolated/detached from the rest of the world i am their only company that they inevitably get attached to despite knowing how much i resent them
hiii! i saw you post about writing for yan!genshin too! which yandere genshin characters do you think would be the most/least toxic and why? sorry if this is too much to ask!!! :)
realistically, since we’re talking yanderes, all of them ARE toxic. no one’s healthy, just purely neurotic. regardless, this is a nice think piece and also took me a really long time to work through (had to catch up on some ingame lore). not every single character is mentioned, only characters that first appeared in my head when i started drafting :]!!! ps ill go back to answering alphabet requests shortly!
tw/cw: typical yandere behavior; unhealthy relationship dynamic; SFW; reader is gn
Dottore - He’s cruel, selfish, licentious, and arrogant. People say he’s apathetic, but only mostly. Dottore knows emotions and exhibits a good level of emotional awareness, but completely disregards them because he thinks emotions would only hinder intellectual progress—very important progress—and further simple-minded fluff. It’d only be a waste to bind yourself to such human constraints; what a finicky thing it is to be a human. That’s why he must split himself into multiple segments. That’s why he cares naught for others’ considerations, all for the sake of his pursuits. Dottore thinks that much of himself, above everyone else, because boundaries do not exist for a man of his caliber.
But ultimately his attitude stems from his deepest insecurities, his doubts, his fears, his vindications—his resentments. He says he is better than everyone, but he’s quick to let bitterness take over when Scaramouche is accepted by human society, because, deep down, he wanted that. It’s not fair, isn’t it? The pitchforks, the fires, the fear, the hatred, the social isolation—why Scaramouche and not him? Is he not good enough? Was he just meant to be, destined always to be the monster? Is he not brilliant? Is he not a genius meant to shepherd? What is his worth?
As your lover, Dottore presses onto you with an outwardly air of confidence and superiority. You will cower in inevitable fear beneath him, and it makes him all the more self-important. But there are frays at the seams, and because of his personal experiences with ostracism, there’s a certain fear that strikes him—not wanting to admit it, but he doesn’t want to lose you. So far, he’s detached himself from everything; his hometown had proved to him that only doing so would hurt you. But with you, there’s a difference—you are “his” to own. His object, his thing. Dottore gets to have you, gets to keep you, gets to do whatever he pleases to do with you, and you shall have no chance to push him away.
All that anger he holds onto, balls into a tightly held grip against your wrist, pulling you back towards him if you even dare to walk out on him. And just as with any procedure, things must be fixed, no? Dottore is not above “bettering” you; a surgically severed tendon, a broken limb—who even needs legs anyway—temporary blindness, induced amnesia, comas—a lobotomy will
surely do the trick to pacify your darling. You’re a guinea pig for his screwed-up attempts at love.
You have no autonomy, no identity, and you must be quick to fixate yourself around Dottore because he is all that matters. And if you ever make him feel like Zandik all those years ago, he’ll sabotage everything that is ever good for you, strip you down until you’re nothing, but wholly his. And if you dare to speak back, Dottore will smile at you: It won’t be long before they push you away as well, and you’ll come crawling back to me. It happened to him; he expects it to happen to you too. There’s still that childish part of him that believes in the worst outcome no matter what. He’s saving you, can’t you see that? Dottore will only be the man for you.
But will he ever “soften”? Unfortunately, he already is soft; this is the softest he is, as vulnerable as he’ll ever be, to look after someone willingly. Different from any of his other experiments, but he shall scrub and stitch your skin so tenderly, and he will hold you at night when you shiver in the cold. Even when he drills it into your head that you are his object to own, deep down, Dottore wants you more than anything in the world. And in the quietest part of his brain, he succumbs to the same very human emotions that he once saw as frivolous. It’s his rationale as to why he’ll break and bruise you, yet he’s quick to mend you back.
Dottore will love you selfishly, as selfish as he’s always been. Dottore will love you because he wants you to tend this hole in his heart that had been dug all those years ago. He wants you to make him admit that he is as human as any other and that he can be openly vulnerable, even if it makes him uncomfortable, so he can prove himself worthy of you and, this once, someone is willing to choose him.
Kaveh - Being inextricably saddled with shame, loss, and an overwhelming obligation to care for others sincerely pushes Kaveh’s mindset to a further extent than his body could even handle. The loss of his father, the guilt he carries on his mother's behalf, and the burdens and stresses he’s wrestled with all his life have lodged such a deep scar within him that he thinks it's only right to assume he is responsible for all suffering. Therefore, he needs to care for and fix the things he can, because if not him, then who? Will others hurt if he does not? Who is Kaveh if not the responsible one? What is his purpose if not the one to be reliable all the time? That is who he is, encompassing him whole because nothing else could ever make him feel anything more.
He’s idealistic to a fault too; his work as a brilliant architect proves it, though more often does he get undermined as he refuses to put practicality over his principles. He argues that the construction of the Palace of Alcazarzaray was worth pouring all his finances into—his artistic visions were intended to be woven into the palace, despite its complicated nature. There’s a bigger picture to be seen, a story to be told. So, Kaveh dug himself into financial ruin, sacrificing his own comfort to create something beautiful. And it’s there where his worst trait shines: his willingness to ruin himself for the sake of something he deems worthy. He must endure it all, all hardship, all pain, to persevere what he treasures.
Over time, it only turns into an internalized pain he learns to swallow quietly, preferably with alcohol drowning him till he’s blue. Kaveh thinks he’s strong enough to hold on by himself, stubborn too when others offer help. He’ll only vehemently deny it, knowing well enough he does want help. But then, there’s you—there is you in the midst of this all, standing in the middle of all this muddled storm, withstanding the turbulent lifestyle he leads. You’ll pick him back up, hold his head up as he throws up onto the toilet, bathe him, feed him, tuck him into bed, and suddenly everything is spinning stars around him, and the only really clear thing is your face, so decadent and pure. Kaveh lets himself feel like a kid again in your presence, feels like it’s owed to him. Hasn’t he done his dues?
Kaveh clings to you with such an intensity, hands tight with desperation—you cannot leave him, or else he will go back to being miserable again. He can’t imagine anything else besides you, so it’s a nightmare even to entertain a scenario where you’re not there.
His way of loving is extreme, only ever extreme, because it’s all or nothing to Kaveh. Once he feels deeply, he will feel intimately deeply to the point it’ll suffocate both of you. There will be a lot of crying, a lot of begging, accusations hurled against your account, constant fighting, frequent bouts of insecurities and anger, so, so much hurting. As much as Kaveh loves you, you will hurt him intensely. And he can try and drink the pain off, but he will ultimately only come back to you, beg you to take care of him and make him feel better. If you try to deny him that silver or comfort, he’ll point a broken shard to the tilt of his neck and beg you to just slit his throat; death will sting less than you pushing yourself away from him. Your hands are bound with no other choice; you shall wash his back while he says thank-yous and I-loves all night long.
His insistence on self-destructive behaviors coagulates further as he grows to believe that no one will ever understand you as he does. He will pour countless hours into getting to know you, finding what makes you tick, what makes you explode, what makes you innately yourself. And you’ll hate that he is right, that only he is the one who understands you like this, even when it means at the expense of your own independence. Kaveh finds it silly that you need to live separately—go ahead, hide yourself in his arms so he could shield you from the world and the two of you could take care of each other. If he could, he would rip his own rib cages apart so he could tuck you inside, next to where his heart beats for you.
Scaramouche - His issues have been rooted in a thousand-year-long pain of abandonment, rotting in a stew of bitterness and resentment towards his own mother who had created him, and everyone else in between that’s left him despite promises made. He sees attachment as nothing but a burden, a cause of all suffering—humans must be masochists then, he reasons, willingly letting themselves hurt and hurt for no other reason than temporary bliss. What a bunch of fools, Scaramouche thinks. Witnessing betrayals and losses at the hands of mortality, curse be to the gods, trust is a weakness, a source of damnation. Why not cut it out?
And so he becomes a god, made done by a scientist who promised him something eternal and beyond the hurt he’s been handed. This is what was always supposed to happen—the vindication runs deep for Scaramouche; it only makes sense. Once nothing but abandoned scraps, now fashioned to be material of use; no one in all of Teyvat could ever deny him now. Everyone will know of him, see him for who he is, his true worth.
Yet, there’s you, somehow unexpectedly catching his eye as he ascends into his godhood. He thinks at first to not fall for such folly, as it would only deter him from his transformation and other Fatui obligations. But he can’t stop thinking about you, as if the notion of falling in love with you was less about romance and more about rediscovering that there was at least one thing left within him that was keeping him from fully falling apart; he just never noticed until you brought it about.
Sooner or later, godhood means little to him. He’d still love to bask in its splendors, to have authority over others, but there’s you, and only over you. Scaramouche believes you’ve sickened him with some wretched curse, and he can’t help but speak to you so crassly. He’s quick to mock, criticize, and provoke, and despite how much you try to pull away from his ceaseless cruelty, he somehow keeps you within arm's reach. There’s a quiet part of him that keeps you close enough where he could see you, but not too close where you can see that there's an obsession festering inside of him that manifests through control and forced dependency, all masked as contempt.
You’ll only continue to terrify and confuse him because his vulnerability is a weakness, Scaramouche believes. Will you only end up hurting him? Of course, you would; all things come to get him after all. But as much as he hates you, he can’t get you out of his head, like some maggot infestation taking hold of him, writhing all over his head, loud and persistent, all so rotten. He can’t help but constantly track you, monitor you from afar, seeing you live a life outside of him, but involuntarily growing a sick habit and fascination of just watching you. Scaramouche gets to know you intimately through this.
Beneath it all, what makes him distinctly scary is his inability to cope with rejection. It could be argued this could be said for every person. Still, Scaramouche exhibits something larger, because the mask of arrogance he carries lays waste in the fear of abandonment, with every person he’s ever met reinforcing that thought; you’d only add to it. So if you did leave him, it’d only prove his worst fears true.
He’d kill you for it if you had run away from Scaramouche. He’d kill you, take your life away from you, and take it into his own hands because he refuses to admit that there was ever a person that had roamed this world that dared to make him feel this way, and yet, got away. It makes Scaramouche feel like he betrayed himself because he promised himself he’d never fall for something as stupid as this, but here he is, grieving over you, suffering agonizingly.
Scaramouche will kill you if you tried to leave him, so no one else could have you but him. That way, you’d never leave him; you’d always be with him, in his memories, tucked away from the rest of the world where no one could get you, and if anyone dared to ask for you, he’d slit their throats. Only him, only Scaramouche gets to remember you; and he’d whisper your name to himself until he chokes on it.
Wanderer - Unlike his previous counterpart, Wanderer would be much less invigorated with his past. He comes to accept his past rather than letting it take over him; he develops understanding and self-awareness. He does not hate his mother, does not hold any regrets or doubts. Irmininsul had given him that chance. However, such fears and anxieties don’t disappear overnight; no matter how much you wash yourself, dirt will always stick. Thus, falling in love would only reopen his wounds, if not make him worse than before.
Wanderer has a keen eye for observation, noticing things most would be quick to dismiss or fail to see at all. With one look, he can gauge a person's motives. With you, his attention amplifies to the utmost degree; he memorizes your schedules, habits, routines, and subtler traits you wouldn’t even know yourself. And unlike his more unhealthy counterpart, Wanderer does not necessarily seek to control you through manipulation; rather, he gets so emotionally fixated on you that he will subconsciously restructure his life around yours. He’ll take back his steps to mould along your footpaths, follow you as you go about your day, say it’s his routine too, see what you see, hear what you hear, feel what you feel.
You wouldn’t even know that this man had come to like you, rather seeing him as a friend, but his fondness for you kindles quietly; it’s easy to miss. It’s because he knows the consequences of being a bad person and would actively resist impulsivity. But again, even with the magnitude of self-awareness he’s garnered since his earlier days, it still does not fully erase what Wanderer is beneath it all. He is a jealous man; only then, when the jealousy comes to a boil through the surface, will it surge forward, the ugliness, and you’ll see him for who he is. He’s killed someone for you—you say it’s a crime, a sin, that someone was a friend. Wanderer says it’s in your honor because they were going to hurt you and take you away. He’ll rationalize, say he’s protecting you from others, but you beg to differ. He’ll keep justifying himself to you, saying you don’t know any better and that only he has your best interests in mind. At a certain point, you’re convinced he doesn’t truly hear your words of protest, caring less about what your thoughts are on this matter, more so whether he is being heard—do you understand him? Do you?
No matter what, Wanderer’s greatest concern will be that fear of abandonment. How evocative it is, to fear loneliness, fearing others leaving you. But Wanderer is much more desperate than before, quicker to cry than to anger, easy to get on his knees and plead for you to say—don’t go, don’t leave me, not again, please, please give me a chance. It’s so unlike him, but so like him at the same time.
Tartgalia/Childe - He never really fully came back right since the day he fell into The Abyss. Being trapped in a realm where he had to learn about life and death at such a young age had permanently altered him, leaving him with a strange fixation on conflict. Childe could no longer play with other children his age; they said there was this distant look in his eyes that just seemed lifeless and empty. His own parents had looked in horror at their little boy; his siblings in pity and grief, wondering where their dear brother had gone. The only thing that could make Childe ever come back to himself, at least for a while, was his insatiable hunger for something greater than himself and beyond anything anyone else could ever comprehend.
What makes Childe an imposing figure is that he doesn’t inhibit insecurities or displays of fear (at least not by themselves); his approaches are empowered by sheer confidence alone. Sure, his sense of normalcy is shattered, and even if he tried hard enough, it’s largely skewed; there will never be a possibility he could ever be…ordinary, like his peers. So, when he sees you, falls deeply into you, he’s hard to dissuade. You find that reckoning with rock would prove more yielding than Childe himself, an immovable force with little to lose, but so much to gain.
He charges into battle with a smile, with a hard-strewn belief that he could easily overcome any battle with sheer determination and strength—he gleefully believes it when it comes to you, comes at you with the same relentless force he uses to kill his enemies. He will try to court you as a gentleman does; even if you try to deny him at first, it's nothing but a slight pushback. But when distractions enter the arena—other rival competitors—he’s quick to raise his own sword and slay if needs be. One time you had made up a lie that you were already spoken for; the next day, a severed finger had shown up at your doorstep with a stern letter telling you to be honest with him. And the more you insist against Childe, the more he feels validated to use necessary force with you. He’s not above hurting you if it's meant to make you compliant—a simple knock in the head will do.
Don’t get him wrong, he is still capable of warmth, even if it could come as cold at times. It’s hard to believe from your perspective, as you’re forcibly tied up on his bed, but he does care a lot about his family, loves his parents and siblings, so fiercely that he still cares to upkeep his image as their dependable brother. This tenderness coexists somewhere in there, in all that mess that miasmas amongst all that chaos and bloodshed. Childe could be attentive and kind, understanding and patient, quick to shower you with so much attention and love. Still, he’s also quick to snap into a monster the moment another obstacle runs through the two of you and his family.
The Abyss never truly left Childe; it’s become a large part of who he is now. Every day, he’s looking for something to bring him back to that moment when he was a kid, anything to relieve it all. Life as it is now doesn’t offer it, doesn’t evoke the same wonder and excitement The Abyss had given him. But with you, you have become an anchor that could rival that deep, aching need for Childe. You’re stable, the needed ground he needed to steel himself onto. You provide him that needed stimulation, as much as reason and normalcy, that he’s been deprived of. If separation were ever to stand between you two, Childe would only feel challenged, as if an enemy to be defeated, rather than a reality to be accepted. He’s quite delusional because that’s what obsession does to a man.
The longer you know him, the more his mind will corrode in itself, all shaping itself to wrap around your entire existence until everything else has collapsed around Childe and you’ll be everything there is for him. The next step, surely, as all loving couples who’ve sworn each other to eternity is to have a family themselves, yes? Give him a child; he would love to be a father.
Xiao - Like Aphrodite rising above sea foam, into existence, Xiao is born from pain. Forced to serve an evil god, stained with karmic debt, he never knew what a soft life meant, never fully understood a full belly, a warm home, or something as intricate as emotions that make one’s heart hammer, make one’s mind tick. And when finally given the chance to break free and experience such ease in life, he’s only met with the reality that everyone he’s grown to care for is destined to suffer, all because of him.
He grows terrified to lose you, by extension. Xiao had already felt inconceivably guilty for having loved you, as it would mean marking you with his bad luck, making you come down into this pit with him and suffer. But it meant to be with you, he rationalizes; you’ll be there with him. Centuries of repression and fear have all collapsed, letting you have an entrance to the city of his heart—every desire, companionship, every longing to be understood, every fear of death and loneliness, is all concentrated around you, and you are bared to hold it all.
Xiao already exhibits self-sacrificing attitudes, throwing himself into danger without a second thought or careful consideration of his well-being. In a relationship with you, his devotion becomes absolute; every belief of needing to serve himself for the greater good twists into a full-fledged belief that no one could ever love you as intimately as him. If not Xiao, then who? He’d kill for you, he’d die for you. And if you push back, he struggles to understand you and argues that loving has never been easy. He’s seen all kinds of love, all kinds that have been said to withstand all, but it all shrivels up and dies; it’ll be tested and proven until worn, until all that loving becomes more painful than actual bliss. Therefore, why keep love simple and clean? Love must consume you whole, as much as it consumes every bated breath he exhales and every painful twist in his gut in fear and insecurity. If you keep pushing your luck, keep pushing him to understand that this is all wrong; Xiao is quick to dismiss you, even going so far as to guide you toward understanding merely. Locking you in a room deprived of light and sound, deprived of everything, makes you understand that kind of pain is what tortures him when he’s not near you. Will you understand now?
The real tragedy lies in the fact that Xiao would hate himself for every obsessive thought, viewing it as a form of corruption, recognizing the darkness in him, and still attempting to quell it. Yet repression, his most defining trait, has also begun to fail him the more time passes in your honor. He loses composure less and less; only you, and only you, because in denial, his feelings grow bigger than he could ever digest. Self-fulfilling prophecy: he knows he’s bad, and he becomes a terrible man for you because that’s what he was expecting anyway. Yet, he can’t stop himself; with every selfish desire, another motive becomes to keep you with him.
You will become Xiao’s sanctuary, the sole source of warmth in all this time that he has been robbed of. He clings to you, attaches you with so much hope to keep him sane, gives me reason to see light in such a way so beautiful, in awe at your presence. His love is his anchor, his purpose, his salvation—and no human being will ever be able to bear the responsibility to uphold his entire life safely. And for a warrior who has survived countless battles but never learned how to survive heartbreak, that fear could become far more dangerous than any demon he has ever faced.
Neuvillette - For centuries, Neuvillette had stood by as an observer, listened to Fontaine grieve and grieve, and had to bear the judgment of her sins and the demands of justice, and the rest of humanity’s faithless contradictions. Yet, beneath that composed exterior, only the weathered time of calculated patience could afford- lies profound loneliness—to stand amongst humans, understanding their world with utmost clarity, yet never being able to be part of it fully. Neuvillette becomes close friends with detachment, as much as he’d rather not; it becomes inevitable.
He wonders what it means to be human, to be beautifully imperfect. To try, despite countless failures; how could one even describe such a feeling? He’ll continue to watch close by, hoping for a small taste of it, to feel what the beloved people of Fontaine feel, of what could be achieved through justice and order. Wondering within arm's reach, never fully embraced. But it won’t linger in him for too long before he runs back to his obligations, to what he was needed for, to upkeep Fontaineian society. His life is quite monotonous.
But as your man, your lover, you become someone that has managed to break through his wall of detachment—you were beyond just another person passing through his endless existence; no, you meant something more, wonderfully something more, someone intangible in the centuries Neuvillette had walked upon this world. You are precious. Irreplaceable. The single mortal soul that physically pains him to think of your death.
As beautiful and pure as his love must be towards you, you think him paranoid and delusional; the problem with Neuvillette is that his concept of “protections” does not align with that of an ordinary human. Neuvillette was never meant to be a soft lover, to be like any other human being that has ever loved. Neuvillette governs storms, safeguards nations, with centuries of responsibilities piling on top of him—to him, protecting you would mean to anticipate every danger before it could ever touch you.
Strangers lingering too long, a neighbor too nosy, an admirer threatening his love for you—every blemish will be remembered, and every potential threat will be met with a firm intervention. No, Neuvillette will never see his actions as surveillance or control; he won’t even listen to reason if you bring it to him. He’d throw it out the door and accuse you of naivety, accuse you of simply being ignorant—this is what love looks like, he’ll tell you. How could he ignore the risks? How could he stand aside when he knows he’s more than capable of taking care of you? How dare you ask him not to either?
But he’ll lean back and answer your thoughts with ease and patience, because that's what he's been practicing throughout his long life: patience. No matter what you do to him, try to provoke him in any regard, he’ll never break, never under any pressure or circumstance. He's waited a long time for justice to unfold and endured the rise and fall of nations, and if he truly desires you, he’ll wait a hundred years for your reciprocation. He’ll wait a hundred more just for you to understand him.
But understanding does not mean immunity to envy, anger, and sadness. You’ll notice floods will be frequent in Fontaine—landslides, heavy rainfall, crops dying, people's homes washed away, suffering, and more. Neuvillette will drown Fontaine in his suffering, and you shall be forced to bear the responsibility; the city forced to live under an endless sky of grey and another boat of floods just because Neuvillette had seen your stare linger on another person longer than he’d liked you to. Storms will cloud and thunder if you laughed with someone else; the sky will break apart if you dared to love another. All while he’ll sit alone, in the pouring rain, clothes soaked, wrestling with emotions that have far tempted him to ruin, a notion unimaginable in the past centuries he’s lived through. Neuvillette will judge himself for it, but the more he condemns his emotions, the deeper they fester and grow. It won’t be long till he’ll begin to justify that such obstacles need to be met with an equally heavy hand; such harmful influences must be stopped. Justice and entitlement, possessiveness, will blur together until he won’t be able to tell them separately anymore. All that matters is that he will save you from all of it; that is justice in itself.
Neuvillette does not seek dominance or full control over you. Still, he would earnestly weather every storm for you, carry every burden, and stand between the world and you, a devotion so sincere it becomes suffocating. No, he will never accept loss either, so if you were ever to leave him, try to, he will tighten his grip on you, ever so gently. Enough to put pressure on you, enough for you to feel like you’re drowning, slightly, until you realize that the safest person to be is in Fontaine, by his side. Every violation of your freedom is simply an act of mercy.
Crow Dottore making his un-willing lover lay his eggs whilst on their back, notoriously the most painful position, so he can study the process…
It was actually the original reason women started birthing in their backs, for study. That said, Dottore didn't think it all that weird nor difficult. Egg laying was hardly as difficult as birthing a full grown child. In spite of this, Dottore’s emotions ran high and he used his body to pin you on your back. He was so worried about making you panic or you hurting yourself in your pursuit of freedom but… studying your body was also very important.
You try to kick him off but not only is Dottore much larger than you, but it also causes discomfort to move your legs so dynamically. He may sit behind you and use his legs to trap your own, keeping them open. He might kneel in front of you and keep your thighs pinned to the sterile floor, boring his eyes into your condition.
The doctor would be sickeningly sweet, in his own way. He’d avoid calling you dramatic or anything critical, as he does often with you, rather trying to use positive affirmations.
Just him cooing in your ear as you try to roll over and he doesn't let you… its a third of the size of a human child, you've got this! He's telling you, everything will be okay, hell take care of you. Just push his babies out… you're doing so well! His sweet darling wife, you're capable of so much, he believes in you full heartedly.
Holding your legs wide and still as you beg him to help you, to let you get a more at ease posture,!but he just keeps whispering words of love and encouragement. Don't worry about bleeding that much, you've no reason to fear! Dottore knows what bleeding out looks like, he promises you are doing just fine!
Admittedly though, this story prompt is certainly a more brutal one. Writing involving the birthing process and blatant disregard for pain is distasteful but… its sort of in character for Dottore!
When you finally push those eggs out, Dottore checks your condition before even looking at his eggs. Searching for active bleeding and signs of lingering pains… he knows you're just fine, but there isn't any harm in checking.
If the process goes well enough, Dottore might feel so proud of you he’d lick the blood and mess from your skin. He doesn't want to put his tongue too close to your wounds, but he's just so fulfilled by your sacrifice. You reacted so horribly and he just feels so… gross by the fact.
Even if you've finally been broken by his cruelty, Dottore would still adore you as his perfect wife. Bathing you, feeding you, checking your status every 15 minutes. Frankly, the children are second to you. He could get more children, he couldn't get another you. And in any case, you could very well live forever with him. He has all the time in the world for you to forgive him.
Whilst you are pampered and cared for, his children will be just cared for. And god forbid if your babies decide they want to see their mother. Absolutely not! Dottore will make designated times but they will not bother your 18 hours of privacy! Even if they are young and incredibly smart at their age, he won't allow his wife to be around anyone with lesser intelligence for long. They could give you ideas or cloud your reasoning with maternal feelings.
It could be years afterward, Dottore would want more babies, many more, but if you didn't want to, or couldn't conceive, than he'd just keep telling everyone yo were dealing with the results of your birth. Yes, your birth was three years ago, but you still flinch at the mention of eggs or more children.
So yes, you're still recovering.
Several years later, and Dottore is still feeling just a little rotten for what he did. Would he do it again? Absolutely. So just let him spoil, he has a lot to make up for.
I MADE THIS AND NEVER POSTED IT, I APOLOGIZE. This is older and a bit out of date, but I still like it. It’s actually just a prompt for a fanfic I started writing, but never finished. Thus, there is a lot of unfinished thought in this one.
There's actually multiple Crow Dottore drafts, but I figured I’d post at least one for all the continuous yapping and complaining I do. I just have a lot to say.
Warnings: A lot of talk about childbirth, labor, and possibly inaccurate medical terms. Mentions of storing and freezing the placenta. Segments using swear words and being involved with the delivery (except 8, he's a minor). Segment 35 (Omega), being a little possessive and self-centered as always. No smut, but mentioned and implied nsfw.
Sitting in the labor room, you held the red scarlet-eyed baby in your arms, stroking the infant's tuft of blue hair every now and then. Segment 8, or "Little Doctor" as you like to call him, leaned over the side to look at the newborn, an innocent sort of curiosity brimming in his very own pair of red eyes.
Your baby was born healthy, looking just like a mix of both you and Zandik. He'd helped deliver it himself, muttering about how he trusted no one but him to take the task upon himself.
Well, technically, it was just Segment 25 who helped with the main task; the others volunteered themselves with other stuff, such as weighing the baby, stitching your tears up, cleaning the blood, storing your placenta and umbilical cord for research purposes, etc.
All the segments insisted on helping out, even Little Doctor, who unfortunately had to sit outside for most of the labor but was eventually allowed in to see the baby and check on you. Everyone's main goal was to ensure the mother and newborn were both safe and healthy.
Now that everything was successfully executed, you and the newborn were both taking a small, well-earned nap. All the adult segments turned to look at one another with suspicion.
Who the fuck was the baby's real father?
They all had slept with you, came inside of you, so the possibility that one of them was the father was 20%.
Except they were all Zandiks.
They all had the same DNA, the same blood. They might as well all be identical twins, if identical twins were all the segment of a man who died a century ago.
"Well? What were we all even expecting? That the baby would be born, and we could take a DNA test to verify the paternity? We all share the same blood dipshits. Ever thought of that?" Segment 18 spat out, looking at the other older segments after they'd all stepped out.
Segment 25 merely took off his mask and gloves, opting to let the other Segments deal with the guy instead.
"We were hoping to keep the peace until the baby was born to keep our Lady's pregnancy smooth. You know she gets troubled when we all get into unnecessary fights." Segment 65 explained, stepping closer to your door to make sure it was locked in case their argument woke you up. "A miscarriage would've been tragic. Besides, we all had our own goals to accomplish during this period. I doubt Omega is going to let you have a share of the placenta."
Omega, or Segment 35, who snuck off to the side to keep your placenta in a freezer, shot them all a dirty look. "How rude! Preserving the placenta has it's benefits-"
"We never said it didn't. But must you be so greedy as to keep it for yourself?" Segment 45 cuts off.
"-because I am the most research-oriented out of all of us, one who shall produce the most fulfilling results. In case of a genetic disease or a tumor, it will prove to be very useful." He preened
"You talk as if you're the real father." scoffs Segment 18.
"Well, of course I am. Who else but I could produce such brilliant progeny."
The comment riled up Segment 18, who walked up to Omega's face, his sharp teeth bare, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, old man? You sure your sperm can even swim that far? Your cock get that hard? Well, getting erect would be no problem for such a beauty; however, I bet her fallopian tubes shriveled the moment you got in you son of a-"
"Alright, alright. There's no need to stir up a ruckus right here," said Segment 25, wiping his hands dry on a towel, clearly the most tired of them all.
Unlike the other Segments, he had to be on-call and close to you that day, and hence had stayed by you till the moment you had pushed the baby out. "She's still inside, sleeping, taking a well-earned nap before one of us has to wake her from her blissful slumber in two hours to take her vitals again. Not to mention, we will need to attend to my newborn as well. For now, we could all take a moment, Segment 8 will alert us should anything happen-"
"What do you mean, 'my newborn'?" Segment 45 butts in, "You didn't even try to debate whether the child is yours or not."
"Well, of course, because it is mine. Only fools fight over what's not theirs-"
"Get a load of this asshole-"
"Can we all take this somewhere else, the baby might wake up-"
"Dottore!" a voice booms from down the hall, along with the sound of multiple footsteps.
All Segments turned around to see The Regrator, Pantalone, along with a few Fatui agents carrying many boxes and bags with them.
"I believe congratulations are in order? How is the missus and the baby?" asked Pantalone.
"Who let this guy know about her labor? I thought we were to keep this information from the other Harbingers," sneered Segment 25.
"And you certainly did, I assure you. No one other than me knows about this little joy of yours. I only happened to find out about this because the 8-year-old segment seemed quite anxious about not being let into the operating room. Seeing as you did not hesitate to let him watch the dissection of the original Zandik, my only conclusion about not allowing him in the operating room was that your wife was giving birth. That, and the fact I hadn't seen her for quite some time. Seemed easy to deduce." The Regrator stated, shrugging and rustling his fur coat.
"And what if it was a surgery like, say, an appendectomy? What use are the gifts then?" Segment 18 pointed out.
"Then I believe that you must get started on producing a progeny, no? Anyway, I've brought a few tokens of goodwill. I hope you'll accept them from a friend."
"Leave them out here. She's sleeping, and we'd rather not disturb her or the baby." Segment 65 said, pointing towards a table for the gifts to be kept. "We'll let her know of them as soon as she's able to concern herself with things other than herself and the baby. I hope you understand she's not in the condition to receive guests at the moment."
"That's alright." The Regrator signed his agents to keep the presents on the table and take their leave.
"Speaking of not disturbing the baby, though, what were all of you arguing about? Well, it's not rare to see each of you in disagreement with the other. Rather, it happens pretty often to be rare. But an opportunity that brings all of you together to have such a conflict......."
"We were discussing who the real father of the baby is," said Segment 18.
Pantalone nodded in understanding.
"I'd hardly call that a discussion. But does it truly matter? All of you are the same person, and hence, similar at your core. I'm sure the child would benefit from having multiple parental figures. I wouldn't call it a major issue."
"It is." Said all the Zandiks there in unison.
"Dear Feofan, it seems you still don't understand us all, even when you are a dear friend of ours. We all may be derived of the same Zandik, but as Dottore, we're all different," Omega explained, "Our values, our approach to research, our research, and our view of this world, they all differ due to the number of memories we carry. Determining the true father is determining whose legacy will be carried on. It isn't as simple as 'raising a child'."
".......so it has to do with your ego," Pantalone cheeked.
"How rude, I have genuine affection towards my wife and my child," said Omega.
"There he goes again," Segment 45 groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Oh my god, it's MY baby you twat," argued Segment 18.
"Well, you're certainly not raising my child with that mouth of yours," said Segment 65 calmly.
"Gents, gents," Pantalone raised his hands, trying to mitigate and calm down all the Dottores before it would escalate, lest they end up dissecting another one of them again.
"I have a solution. How about you solve this the way you know best? You're all intelligent and highly educated individuals; surely you can come to a conclusion amongst yourselves."
All the Zandiks looked at each other, as if they had never considered that idea.
"Determining the father of the baby through research. We can't do a DNA test, but....." mused Segment 45.
"Surely, only DNA can't be the only factor to determine the paternity," suggested Segment 18.
"If we can't find a way to find a match with blood, tissue, or DNA, we could always narrow down the possibility of one of us being the father by calculating the fertility factor of our sperm, the time between conception and delivery, and the general condition of the mother and the baby during pregnancy," Segment 35 muttered.
Pantalone sighed, seemingly relieved that he had managed to prevent another Zandik from being dissected today.
"I must, however, object to executing this plan right now," said Segment 25, "her postpartum period is to last for at the very least 2 months, and we have a newborn to care for as well."
"Naturally," all Segments agreed and nodded.
"Then," smirked Omega, "we shall have a time limit of 2 months to conduct our research. Whosoever manages to bring concrete proof along with the timeline and convinces everyone that the baby is theirs shall get to claim the progeny and raise them. Do we all agree?"
"Yes," said all the Segments.
"Then shall I volunteer as a referee? You know, as a neutral party, to keep things nice and fair?" asked Pantalone.
"Of course, friend. You're more than welcome to invite yourself to my research discussions. You are, after all, the one funding all of our experiments," said Omega gleefully.
Pantalone watched with interest as all of the Segments dismissed themselves, some going to rest after what he assumed was a long day of being in the delivery room, others sprinting to their assigned labs to get a head start on their research, while the rest stayed to be available for you.
'Ah,' Pantalone thought to himself, stepping outside and pulling out a cigarette, 'this whole ordeal shall be quite entertaining.'
a/n: hello hello everynyan |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ I wrote this at 3 am in a fever dream lol. Fun fact: kids of identical twins are genetic half-siblings. SO if you have an identical twin and have a baby, the baby is also half of your twin lol. It gave me the idea about what if multiple people shared the same DNA and boom that's how I wrote this fic in 2 hours when I have like 12 other drafts that have been collecting dust ehe (ᵕ—ᗜ—) I might make a few edits here and there so pls excuse any grammatical errors lol I don't know english well ≽^•⩊•^≼ anyway enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
“I don’t want the future. I want the present to stand still. I want to stay here with you…”˖⋆⟢
✦ synopsis: the way to a gamers heart..is you! (in short how loser!dottore shows his love!)
✦ a/n: the fanart belongs to cosonette on tiktok which inspired this whole thing
• No idea how he bagged but he bagged regardless.
• His actual name is Zandik and his gamer tag is Dottore he was so proud of it, he told everyone to call him Dottore as a nickname. Looking back to it he is embarrassed by his young self and even more embarrassed if you decide to tease him about it.
• “Dihhtore” “Stop☹️”
• He has you saved as muffin in his phone and basically thats your go-to pet nickname! Zandik chose this because y’all met in a cafe that serves the tastiest muffins (and you’re as sweet as muffin to him)
• Both an academic and gamer/manga typa loser. He has many medical internships requests, his skills are high demand — and at the same time he is info dumping large amounts of game lore to you with lightning speed of talking.
• or random facts “Did you know that earwax is a type of sweat?”
• His room is full with educational books and manga followed by his figure collection. Its somehow messy and organised at the same time. Whenever you come over Zandik makes effort it atleast looks decent-ish
• Corniest pick up lines
• “Are you a controller? Because I can’t function without you-“ “Bro.”
• Socialising..who is that? He only goes to college, grocery shopping and the nearby cafe that I mentioned. Most dates happen in his room, if you do insist, he will go out with you but he looks like a dear caught in headlights the whole time.
• Wears glasses due to being infront of a screen for half of his existence and places them on you sometimes as an failed attempt to flirt.
• Hands always sweaty, at first Zandik was even embarrassed to hold hands with you.
• He is clingy — too clingy. This is his first relationship so he just wants you, okay? Doesn’t matter what you’re up to just stay by his side.
• For as long as he remembers, Zandik was always an outcast. No matter how smart he just couldn’t get along with his peers, which made him accustomed to hearing his name said with hatred. When you came along and said Zandik with so much love in your voice it was like the Gods finally decided to show him some grace.
• His hair is mad fluffy and Zandik wouldn’t refuse you — if you would want to pet it while he lays down on your lap (please)
someone made an old man zandik fanart of your fic!!!
I literally remade a Twitter account (💀) so I could support the artist! I am beyond flattered and so happy to see so many people enjoying Old Man Zandik!
Link is here!
Nightly Cup of Tea @doc-shai-tea - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
