The Little Zandik and Teucer story so far ✨ (12/x)
I really didn't expect to make this haha. My big dream is to make a real comic one day and to this day I felt like I don't have the skills for it. But now I feel like I'm getting there. Step by step. I learnt a lot doing this.
But also the markers I'm doing this with are running out oh no! 😄
And oh no, I'm starting a new job and I don't think I'll have plenty of free time from now on. I have like 3-4 more drawings in my head, so I want to finish this silly story. But it might take me some time.
Please be patient with me. And thank you for supporting me through this, all the reblogs and comments in there made my day every time 💖
idk, if thats a little too much, but dottores segment, 8, probably walks around alone soemtimes, what if reader met him and started to bond with him? Either, trying to bring him back home and meeting dottore, or 8 talking about reader and catching dottores attention. Feel free to ignore this
have a great dayyyy
໒⦂ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘.
notes. hello anon! tysm for the ask, it would be super cute if eight bonded with reader augh.. this is gonna center around them more but there will be some omega at the end dw<3
genre. fluff + hurt / comfort
tw. use of ‘dear’, mentioned / implied bullying
dottore x gn!reader. ( can be read as platonic )
he was just looking to get back to his section of the lab, really. straying off wasn’t intentional or anything like that, he was just.. taking a brief stroll — he did that sometimes, especially whenever his eighteen year old self got a little too handsy with his things.
namely the notebook he should probably glue to himself by this point, but then how would he be able to open and close it?
it was better to just walk away for awhile and find some peace of mind in a corner of the zapolyarny palace that any fellow segments wouldn’t dare venture off into. their business was in the labs, after all, and it wasn’t as if he was often addressed to provide input.
so what good was his presence if not to get his research hidden, sullied, thrown out or outright burned?
that said, he made more progress working in his lonesome. each stage of his life was spent that way, and he knew that well early on.
it wasn’t always desirable, but he learnt to deal with it — to value solitude over company that only wished to hinder and undermine his own choice of niche to study.
but there was a variable he hadn’t accounted for today, and that was you.
a letter was between your fingers, likely addressed to omega, as the original was no more. you appeared lost, slightly out of breath from what he could gauge, yet strangely in awe. perhaps you were still of the few recruits that had not yet learned of the existence of the segments, much less a child like himself.
calmly, he closed the notebook in his hands, holding one out to you. “if that is addressed to dottore, i can take that for you.” he offered before you could quite get a word in, wanting to make the exchange even just slightly easier. “i was just on my way back.”
but you hadn’t moved, merely blinking once and twice before closing your lips and lowering your gaze to the envelope between your gloved digits. “um,” you began, returning your eyes to his patient, ruby ones as you cleared your throat, awkwardly, the feather-light weight in your hands became prominent once more. “don’t even worry about that!” you smiled, getting down on one knee after a dismissive wave to comfortably face him. “more importantly- what’re you doing out here all on your own? you must be shivering without a coat!”
tensing at the accusation, there was little the youngest segment could say before a weight was suddenly settling around his shoulders, followed by the squeeze of hands. if he had to guess, you still hadn’t quite figured out who he was yet, or you must have thought him to be the child of whom the letter was addressed to.
all reasonable assumptions, hardly anything surprising.
“you get used to the temperature over time.” he answered with the fall of his shoulders, gaze drifting from yours to his worn shoes. “an afterthought, if you would.” having spent so long in snezhnaya already, it was something to simply become accustomed to, even if his origins were in the desert.
and if he was the only segment who struggled because of their shared origin, all due to his age, then that would make for more of a reason to be cast out.
at least the two oldest and the original ( back while he was still still running the show ) aren’t as cruel, given their understanding of his situation. but it wasn’t as if they could hover over him the entire time; they had work to do just as the rest of them did, which he had understood well enough.
when the warmth on his shoulders began to squeeze again, his crimson orbs flitted to your stare once more, watching the knot that wedged itself between your brows. did his statement upset you? he was only putting out the explicit truth — why did that bother you?
most didn’t like a liar — he knew he didn’t, especially whenever it was his stuff being hidden and he was only told false sympathies and condolences over the truth. so why were you displeased with his answer? was it better that he lied or said something terrible to shoo you away?
goodness, you were quite the confusing individual. “are my words.. disagreeable with you?”
silence again, but then a flicker in your eyes. as though you had remembered yourself along with where you were, and the point you were about to previously make.
or well, it looked that way, to him.
“i’m sorry, no disrespect to you whatsoever but.. shouldn’t you be, i dunno..”
“playing with toys? coloring? accompanied by my loving caregivers?” he interjected — flatly, but the politeness still yet lingered, even with the rather.. blunt choice of words. though they weren’t intended as sarcasm or as a means of antagonizing you.
again, they were merely guesses — educated ones based off of the now and past experiences.
closing your lips, your hands all but loosened around him as you pulled back just enough to give him space. “uh- well!” you cleared your throat in your fist, mentally cursing the alignment of your exact assumptions with his own. how was this kid picking up everything so easily? he was practically acting like an adult with the way he behaved — it felt.. unnatural.
not in a bad way, as there was such a thing as simply being mature for your age or even an ‘old soul’, as some liked to call it.. but it just felt a little melancholic to see.
and it would be rude to lie, if only to salvage whatever remained of your dignity. “..yes.” you finally decided to say, lowering your other knee to the frigid marble. “as far as i can see, you’re, y’know — a kid.. so forgive me if what i say might offend, but yeah. i would think you should be doing those things or at least be flanked by someone rather than walk alone.”
a brow a couple shades darker than his seafoam locks raised before falling, a low hum slipping from his lips as he brought his arm back to cradle his notebook. “interesting.” he returned, holding your gaze. “is that what you were going to offer? because you believe that i should be accompanied by someone wherever i go?” he then followed up, tilting his head a little with the inquiry.
it made it feel more genuine, scratching off the accusatory impression you almost would have gotten from it. this was, just his way of talking from what you could see so far. which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was a small thing to take into account as not to respond in the wrong way.
he was just honest with his choice of wording, and not with the intention to offend or irk the other person through his assumptions. it was genuine curiosity that was being brought across.
“would you be fine with me if i did?” you then tried, gesturing behind you. “we’re going to the same place, so we could always, y’know, walk together.”
“who will walk you back after?” he parroted back, and you’ll give it to him — he sure had that tendency children had for asking every question known to mankind.
it was making it progressively harder to continue to meet his every rebuttal, as you were gradually running out of answers.. however you were still in, whatever this was. “we can figure that out when we get there, okay?” you finally said, rising with a quiet noise of strain before holding out your hand to him to take. “for now, we should get going so we’re not loitering the halls for too long.”
peering down at your open palm, he blinked once and then twice before glancing at his shoulder and then back at you. “would you like your coat back?” he spoke up, prepared to shrug off the warmth around his arms, but you were.. suddenly shaking your head. rapidly.
“no, that’s for you to wear — i was just..” you paused, looking down at your hand and then at him before awkwardly returning it to your side. “nevermind — let’s start heading over.” you supplied instead, smiling meekly at the crimson eyed boy.
proposing to hold hands because he was a kid was not something entirely uncommon, but this little guy differed.. fundamentally from most children. he didn’t seem like the type to want to be coddled, so you didn’t want to put that upon him, certainly after just having met him.
it just felt like instinct to extend that comfort, as most kids usually wanted or needed that.. but it was evident that this one didn’t.
so the coat would do — hopefully.
the walk was expectedly silent. neither of you had much to say, but that was okay! he took to letting you accompany him and for you, that was enough. it wasn’t as if the stretch to your destination was all that far, anyway, maybe a couple more minutes at best until you reached.
adjusting the coat around his shoulders somewhere along the way, his eyes drifted to the hand at your side — the one that was held out to him previously.
if it wasn’t held out before to ask for your coat back, then there was another reason.
likely not in request of something, as the only thing he had on him as of this moment was.. well, his notebook — and what good would that do you?
no, you were.. putting something out — your hand.
a beat passed, followed by another and then the rustle of leather against the fabric of his clothing.
then, a coolness wrapped around your fingers.
it made you blink, nearly stumbling in your tracks, but you knew better than to call attention to the action.
and so, you continued as though little had changed, only shifting your hand around his to gently hold it in yours for the remainder of the trek.
before you both knew it, the lab was separating its doors to welcome you both in.
antiseptic was in the air minutes ahead of making it inside, although the scent intensified upon direct exposure to the source from which it came. an after effect from being a sterile environment, you supposed.
the kid to your side didn’t seem all that bothered, however, and took to leading the way deeper into the heart of the laboratory.
if the circumstances were anything but the delivery of a letter, you might have actually been nervous, but everything seemed okay so far.
apart from the assortment of scarlet hues, both visible and hidden, that bore into you as though an out of place variable in their domain. was there a lack of notice?
whatever it was, you stuck to following the kid, ignoring the chills that crept down the expanse of your spine as your eyes drifted from tank to equipment to apparatus. this guy was no joke, neither were his.. whatever they were, but you had to stay strong.
at some point his hand left yours to glide across a numeric keypad like muscle memory, revealing a final room where a tall silhouette of a man older than the figure beside you had stood.
he wore a crow-like mask over his eyes that you had only heard about from rumors when he glanced behind him, lips pursed together in something akin to ire.. but then they were parting, and gradually stretching into a cordial smile.
“ah, there you are, eight. and rather bundled up i see.” the man mused out, putting down whatever he was working with to approach you both. “would this be the owner of the coat around your shoulders?”
stiffening, your eyes lowered to the boy at your side — eight, noting the tiniest shift in posture, although his expression remained unyielding.
guarded.
“they brought a letter for you.” he stated in lieu of answering, shifting his arms around the notebook cradled to his chest — protectively. “from her majesty, i assume.”
the older hummed, turning his attention to you. “is that so?” he spoke up, pale locks spilling with the tilt of his head.
it made your tongue dry out, but you didn’t delay with nodding at his question, swallowing your nerves. “it’s as he says — yes. i was asked to bring this to you, lord harbinger. i hope i’m not interrupting in any way, and that it isn’t of any issue to have been brought here by your- um..” you paused, glancing down at the younger. “eight, right?”
ruby orbs stared back up at you upon being asked about his name, to which he dipped his head once. “correct.”
taking the letter that was then held out to him, dottore placed it on his desk with another noise of consideration, waving you off with the flick of his wrist. “not at all, her majesty’s word is absolute. it would be a great disrespect to not drop everything for her word.” he spoke up, chuckling softly. “but yes, that would be my younger self, eight.”
another lump passed through your throat as you looked between the pair, blinking as you did. “oh — i thought that..”
“that he was my son?” the doctor interjected, leaning against the worn wood of his desk. “a common misconception.” he added curtly, strumming his fingers idly against the envelope.
it made something twist in your gut — at how nonchalant he was acting, but you kept your composure- your professionalism. “apologies, in that case, for assuming.” you returned as measured as you could manage, lowering your head in a bow before turning on your heel. “if that will be all, i’ve done my part, so- if you’ll excuse me..”
a tug to your clothing before a step could quite be taken brought your attention down south — to the kid at your side who was holding out the coat you had previously draped around him.
he didn’t smile, but there was an inkling of sympathy in his eyes. “here, before you forget.” eight spoke up, letting go only when your fingers had grasped the article of clothing.
prepared to quietly thank him, you were startled into silence when he spoke again- bringing up what you had hoped he would have forgotten by now.
“did you figure out who will walk you back yet?”
no, no you did not — and you weren’t planning on it either. but with the way he stared up at you with those flat yet curious rubies, it felt criminal to lie and go back against his word.
a soft sigh left you, lips pulling into a strained smile as you crouched to his height once more. “i haven’t, no.. but maybe i’ll run into someone on the way like i did with you.” unlikely, as no one would dare come this way willingly.
but the answer seemed to suffice, as the younger segment nodded, watching as you straightened your posture shortly after to continue your trek.
and you would have made it out the door, were it not for the rather.. audible ‘ahem’ that halted you in your tracks.
“i don’t believe i dismissed you yet, my dear.. and if my younger self speaks of your requiring an escort of some kind,” dottore spoke up, approaching your side to offer a hand. “then perhaps i might be able to accompany you on your way back. the path can be considerably extensive — confusing, even, for those who don’t walk around these parts as often..” in other words, he proposed that you might get lost somewhere along the way.
which was a possibility, all things considered.. but no less embarrassing to be told.
even still..
allowing your gaze to fall from his masked appearance to the outstretched hand, you stole a glance behind him to eight — as if asking for some semblance of approval, to which he.. well, just shrugged.
whatever that meant.
refusing a harbinger felt like treachery in itself, certainly the second. he was feared- respected for a plethora of reasons, possibly because of that terror he could strike into those around him.. but he was a person, nonetheless, and someone who was extending his company despite claiming to have been busy.
that and, eight had.. obviously wanted for you to be walked as you had walked him.
the decision was easy from there, even if the hairs on your skin were not quite lowering. “if it doesn’t take away from your work.. then it’d be greatly appreciated, lord harbinger.”
smiling at your response, and the hand that had slid into his, he pressed the same keys that his younger self had entered to open the doors, humming softly. “how considerate of you. i’m sure a couple minutes of mine can be spared, eight and the others have managed for longer periods.” dottore reassured, ushering you out of the extensions of the lab you had previously crossed and back into the halls that had brought you here.
truthfully, the atmosphere he had to offer was.. immensely different from the younger. this one had quite a lot to say, and was less reserved, but it wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
you were nervous, no doubt about that. but..
his conversation and company weren’t entirely unpleasant.
perhaps if you crossed paths again, it wouldn’t be so horrible to be in his presence once more.
notes. my parting gift before i am silenced for a week about this man and anything to do with him.. hope you guys like black swan from the hit game honkai star rail.. she’s taking the spotlight..
tysm for reading! consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed<3
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18 is of the opinion that making friends is an exercise in futility, but he can't deny this robot is really cool. Way better than the outdated rubbish the 7th makes.
as much as i love dottore getting dragged kicking and screaming from his lab to the opera by pantalone in a desperate attempt to get the former to even so much as look at a blade of grass, i feel like dottore would enjoy the opera. he plays the piano for his loved ones, so clearly he appreciates musical composition.
i feel like segment 65 would love it the most and would willingly go without complaint.
45 would probably as well. maybe a bit of reluctance if he’s busy or had his schedule rearranged.
35 on the other hand, would complain about going and then enjoy his time there.
25 and 18 would likely cringe and call it boring and make up every excuse not to go because they don’t want to be “old and senile and sophisticated” but will begrudgingly realize that they actually like the music. but they’re too far into the bit to stop the commitment.
8… nobody takes him to the opera. he would be fascinated for perhaps 30 minutes at best before getting bored.
Read notes from DataDottore’s item drops. Interactions and records about him and segments are priceless.
From Marrow #1, about Pantalone
I like how older segments are just stating facts about Pantalone getting injured a lot and genuinely wondering about danger of his work. And then 18 goes like “omg he’s still getting into trouble”
I like that 8 is indeed childish here, mocking the big old adult by recording his awkward moment
From Marrow #2, segments bickering. Truly a multi-sibling interaction with old tired father
Been working on a little character study of Dottore with hunger as a metaphor for/way to express unhealthy, obsessive-ish ambition. It's currently a WIP and a draft, so it's not very good.
TW(s): Self-neglect, disordered eating themes, sleep deprivation(light), implied child neglect, social ostracization, starvation, and Implied/referenced Dottore backstory stuff.
Dottore learned from an early age that hunger could be easily overruled and ignored if one had enough tasks to occupy oneself with. Though, of course, one could only go so long before a sort of mania would begin to set in.
At the age of eight, said mania was more accurately described as a child’s tantrum. There was wailing and crying and all manner of unintelligible words spilling from his mouth. It often evoked the pity of others and would result in the child’s need for sustenance being met. The people of Sumeru were always kinder to children back then, even when the children were said to have eyes like the monsters of the abyss.
However, when Dottore turned eighteen, that manner of tantrum was far beneath him. Instead, Dottore would find himself cross-legged on his bed, with numb fingers scrawling frantic words across pages upon pages of essays, notes, and research. The scratching of the pen’s tip against the paper’s teeth was a sound that historically had calmed him. However, it would quickly begin to fail around the 36-hour mark without food and, admittedly, with less-than-optimal sleep most of the time. It was at that hour that Dottore would find himself distracted by the heavy and partially distant feeling in his gut that he would die like this. He would die slaving over papers, having changed nothing. Achieved nothing. Such thoughts were quickly dispersed when Dottore found the time to eat.
