Hello, I go by theabysss here. You can call me Abyss.
You can also refer to me by any pronouns, as I do not have a preference.
English is not my native language so I’m sorry if I make any english mistakes!
Content:
Pay attention in this blog, I post sagau and yandere Genshin Impact x reader content.
I write mostly for gn!Readers.
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Deeply fell into the rabbit hole under the name Zhongli so many posts are about him (almost all). I also plan to subsequently write for Dottore - my second husband. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
Feel free to talk to me (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)
If you want to share anything with me, please feel free to do so. It doesn't matter if it's some events in your life, memes or your thoughts about genshin.
On Pantalone, Dottore, and their Longing for Different Parts of Each Other
Still thinking too hard about the 6.6 Archon Quest and Anomalous Tree Marrows, so here’s an unhinged essay on the breathtaking tragedy of Pantalone and Dottore.
TLDR version
Pantalone insists that Dottore is Zandik because any alternative would be viscerally intolerable. He has to believe that some part of Zandik still persists within Dottore or else he has spent the better part of three centuries with his partner’s murderer
35 is the most selfish version of Dottore because he is Zandik immediately after he met Feofan, the manifestation of the moment he experiences what it means to be known, seen, and valued for his worldviews. In other words, he is Zandik once he knows what it’s like to have something to lose
Their final scene in front of Irminsul is an acknowledgement that they are out of time—literally and symbolically. Dottore will die and Pantalone will eventually follow, yes. But they are also out of each other’s time, each longing for different versions of the other
(No, I’m not okay, but let’s do this)
Let me preface this by acknowledging that my reading is informed by the fact that I ship them. I’ve been writing them as lovers since A Winter Night’s Lazzo came out, based solely on a familiarity with the Commedia dell’arte, a degree in identifying queer subtext, and a dream that Hoyo most definitely fulfilled. But the game is not being subtle here. Even if you don’t see their partnership as romantic, it is, at the very least, queerplatonic.
Regardless of how you interpret their relationship, the game makes it clear that Pantalone is the most significant person in Dottore’s life, more significant to Dottore than Dottore himself. Dottore’s primary record—his first memory in a game where memory is tantamount to life and identity—is a meticulously kept catalogue of every time his many selves saved and extended Pantalone’s life. It is Anomalous Tree Marrow I on purpose because Pantalone’s survival is written into every part of Zandik’s soul, down to the 8 year old who scolds Pantalone for misplacing his glasses. Forget the bickering Segments, forget the god-making, world-changing experiments—Pantalone’s safety, survival, and even comfort (looking at you, Alpaca wool) comes first.
I hardly have words for how incomprehensibly tragic they are.
Feofan spent 50 years with Zandik, the notoriously unsympathetic scientist who had already cauterized his compassion by the time of their first meeting. This is the heretic who preferred to view humans as test subjects and machines rather than leave himself open to more rejection than what he had already experienced.
This guy sets his eyes on Pantalone and immediately wants to keep him forever. Zandik fell hard enough for Test Subject 3 after a single meeting that he not only decided to refrain from experimenting on him, but went and learned his name, put in a good word with Pierro, and spent the rest of his life (and death!!!) guaranteeing Feofan's continued existence. This is U-hauling to the nth degree.
Now for some quick math: Pantalone is 72 years old when Zandik dies on his 85th birthday, meaning it was a 33-year-old Zandik who first met a 20-year-old Pantalone.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the 35-year-old Segment is the one who sees himself as the most selfish. He’s the closest to the 33-year-old Zandik who only needed one encounter with this nameless, injured, smooth-talking test subject before saying: “this one is mine. I’m keeping him. Not just until I get bored. Not just until I need a new test subject. Forever.” And this means that 35 is the first version of Zandik who sees himself as having something to lose. This is the Zandik who experienced a desire to keep Pantalone at his side for the rest of time. And also the Dottore who is still in the throes of NRE lol.
Prior to their in-game appearance, I headcannoned Pantalone as avaricious and possessive based on the Moment of Cessation artifact description. I still think he is in some respects, but Dottore definitely has him beat when it comes to sheer obsessive devotion.
If Dottore is the Segment who is closest—temporally speaking—to the moment in which he found a genuine partner whose views and values align with his own, then it doesn’t seem surprising that he would be the one most threatened by Zandik’s existence. Again, his selfishness is the same selfishness that made Zandik want to keep Pantalone in the first place. His envy is that of knowing what it is like for someone to look at him and not see a monster for the first time, and it makes him monstrous. Dottore might not have actively killed Zandik, but the Anomalous Tree Marrow III certainly makes it seem as though he, at the very least, persuaded the other Segments to agree to a DNR should Zandik end up in critical condition:
The fact that he often refers to his fellow Segments as “me” and “myself” makes me think he’s talking about getting the other Segments onto his side here rather than to Zandik, who he often describes as being somewhat apart from himselves.
I think it’s important to note that Dottore recognizes how Pantalone’s immortality cannot be guaranteed until Zandik dies. Zandik is the missing ingredient and Dottore understands this much. His willingness to let Zandik die can be partly attributed to his own selfishness and desire to supplant the original in all ways (including as Pantalone’s partner). But, regardless of intent, it also succeeds in ensuring Pantalone’s immortality, which has to be a fairly bitter pill for the latter to swallow.
Although Pantalone plays off the fact that he was unsettled by Zandik’s death and dissection (interjecting with “I never said that” when Dottore calls him on his past reaction during story time), it is abundantly clear that Pantalone experiences a potent emotional response every time one or more Zandik dies.
In the medical logs, for instance, Dottore makes a “joke” about developing antidepressants for Pantalone. But, given the timing and the fact that there had been no prior indication that Pantalone suffered from depression, one can easily assume that Pantalone is grieving and Dottore is being an envious asshole about it. (“Unsettled” also feels like a very Dottore way to describe someone suffering the grief of losing their partner of 50 years).
Similarly, when Dottore eradicates the rest of the Segments, he pithily describes Pantalone as behaving like “little more than a decorative vase” at the Harbinger meeting, which again comes across as a rather cold way of telling us that Pantalone is dissociating to cope with the grief of losing five more versions of Zandik—aspects he had, by then, lived with for four centuries. Ouch.
(At least Dottore thinks he’s pretty.)
Pantalone never shares his emotions with us players directly—his feelings are always focalized through Dottore’s mocking asides about Pantalone’s behaviors—but that honestly makes me think that Pantalone was even more distraught than what the text tells us. If even Dottore is making flippant comments that speak to him picking up on Pantalone’s distress, then it has to be pretty bad.
Partners, at the End, Even Still
And so Pantalone’s ongoing decision to maintain his partnership with Dottore is utterly excruciating on multiple levels. There is, of course, the fact that it dooms them both to death—Dottore immediately (big asterisk here because I don’t think he’s dead for good but that’s another essay) and Pantalone once the Elixir runs out and old age finally catches up to him. But the emotional registers beneath all this are, in my mind, even more devastating.
Dottore is all Pantalone has left of Zandik. And yet Dottore is also the reason that he’s all Pantalone has left of Zandik.
When Pantalone follows Dottore and stands at his side, he is standing beside his partner and his partner’s murderer at the same time. The only way Pantalone can reckon with the abject tragedy of this fact is by holding onto the belief that Dottore is Zandik and Zandik is Dottore and that he will always be part of him.
Feofan and Zandik had 50 years where they (presumably) continued to learn, grow, and evolve together. Dottore is fixed in time at 35, but Pantalone is mentally fixed in time at 72, the year Zandik died, after which 35 perfected the Elixir so that it would pause physical and mental aging.
When Dottore explains that the other Segments had erased his “uniqueness,” he talks about how “a soul living forever in the past inevitably holds different views than he did in his later years,” acknowledging that he’s imprisoned by the moment of his own creation. The fact that he immediately pivots to then focus on Pantalone’s preservation is important because it reminds us that Pantalone is also frozen in time. He says:
There are a lot of ways we can read these lines. On the surface, we can simply read it as expository information to give the player some background on Pantalone—it definitely is that for sure. We can also read it as an example of Dottore’s callousness, how he casually brings up Pantalone being trafficked.
But I think there’s another layer, too. It’s an example of how Dottore still latches onto the Pantalone that Zandik met at 33. And this isn’t the first time in the conversation that Dottore demonstrates how fixed his perspective is. Nearly four centuries have gone by and yet he still thinks the reason Pantalone is helping him is because he spared him as a test subject. Pantalone has already had to remind Dottore that he ascended to the rank of Harbinger on his own merit and that he isn’t there because of some quid pro quo from centuries ago. Rather, he sees their values and goals as fundamentally aligned. Pantalone is there for Zandik because he still sees Dottore as Zandik.
And so, when given the opportunity to say his final farewell, Pantalone says goodbye to Zandik. Despite the literal words he speaks, I don’t think he’s actually asking what 35 prefers to be called. He already knows that 35 sees himself as Dottore from their prior conversation. What Pantalone is really asking is who he can say goodbye to in this moment, at the end, when they are finally free from fate itself. After the enormous personal sacrifices Pantalone has made, Dottore gives Pantalone the choice to see him as Zandik. And how heartbreaking is it that Pantalone does even though, by this point, it is Dottore who has spent some 330 years with Pantalone—centuries more than Pantalone had ever experienced with Zandik.
It is, as far as final acts go, surprisingly selfless of Dottore to recognize what it means for Pantalone to see him that way, even though he himself despises being forever tied to Zandik. It is especially surprising coming from the Segment who wholeheartedly embraces his own greed and repeatedly proclaims himself to be the most selfish of them all. So much for not being able to change!
For me, their greatest tragedy is the fact that they are out of time from one another, asynchronous, yearning for each other in different forms and ages. Dottore is forever looking for the Feofan he met at 33; he sees their present relationship as contractually predicated on saving Feofan in the past. Pantalone, frozen at 72, looks for the remnants of the man who shared his worldviews in the most selfish version of Dottore.
The beautifully doomed romance of it all is that Pantalone isn’t in love with Dottore; he’s in love with the idea that Dottore is still Zandik. The mercy of their final scene is the acknowledgement that they’re yearning for different pieces of the whole and, to me, the recognition that takes place in this exchange feels like a final act of forgiveness.
Hey, everybody. I know I haven't posted anything in a while. It's been a long time. And I'm sorry to say that I'm not going to post anything on this account anymore.
I've lost most of my interest in Genshin. Even release of the Natlan region didn't bring back the spark. I would like to say thank you to everyone who has supported me and followed me. Forehead kisses to all my 364 followers.
P.s I'm not quitting writing completely, but I'm starting to write about my characters. If anyone is interested here is my new blog @silvernightabyss. With the main theme yandere oc x reader.
summary: Zhongli feels jealous about you and cats, and then finds out that he has no reason to do this (just fluff).
warnings/tags: gn!Reader, possessive & obsessive thoughts, religious + cult themes.
word count: 1.4 k~
Before your descent into Teyvat, before you again graced them with your presence in the physical form, Zhongli believed that if he had to share your attention with anyone and fight for your favor, it would be your other followers. Archons, allogenes or ordinary people, he was confident that he would surpass them all. As your most loyal follower, he was definitely the best at fulfilling your wishes and was worthy of your time and attention like no one else.
The reality turned out to be a little different. It seems there was nothing in the whole world that you loved more than cats and they reciprocated your love. Every time you and Zhongli took a walk, the result was always a picture of you surrounded by these furry creatures.
By this point, Zhongli had tried quite a lot of ways to separate you and the cats, among which were: attempts to walk in high rocks, where these furry creatures could not exist in principle (somehow they still ended up there and stole all your attention), an attempt when he invited you to the ship (somehow there was still a cat there, to whom you devoted all your time) and many others, all just as failed.
The world itself indulged your love, which of course was very logical and correct, but…
Zhongli sighed. Sometimes Always he wanted you to devote your time to him and only him, without any distractions. The dragon part of him now always narrowed his eyes in displeasure and began wagging his tail jealously at the sight of cats, even when you were not around.
To his great regret, he could not even join your hobby; all the cats instinctively did not like him because they sensed in him a strong, dangerous predator and did not want to expose themselves to his touch. So all that remained for him was the role of a silent observer, burning with jealousy.
He was sure that if your fingers had stroked his hair with the same tenderness, he would have purred no worse, maybe louder and rumbling, but was that a minus?
When, in the privacy of his chambers, Zhongli allowed himself to indulge in fantasies of your fingers playing with his hair, sometimes your nails scratching the scalp, or your gentle touches at the base of his horns, they brought him into a state close to euphoria. And it was so unfair that your gentle touches were enjoyed by irrational animals, unable to fully appreciate the honor shown to them.
Today was the day when you agreed to walk along the old streets of Liyue in the most ancient part of the harbor, Zhongli had about ten minutes of your full attention devoted only to him, until a ginger cat appeared around the corner.
As soon as this animal appeared, you instantly approached it and began to gently stroke between its triangular ears, one of which was torn. The cat purred contentedly and began to rub against your legs, pleased with the attention paid to him and your hands caressing his fur. And who wouldn't be happy in his place? He himself would give a lot to be able to enjoy your affection.
Zhongli could have sworn that the cat's blue eyes flashed maliciously when their gazes crossed for a second. Which of course was absolute stupidity; cats were incapable of gloating. He carefully examined the ginger; there were numerous scars on the animal’s body; it seemed that this cat was very pugnacious.
Zhongli narrowed his eyes suspiciously, there was not a single chance that this was possible…
Before the thought had time to fully form in Zhongli’s head, you finally broke away from the cat, and he lastly meowed mournfully and quickly left under the heavy gaze of the dragon.
"I'm sorry, Zhongli, for this little delay, I shouldn't have…"
"There is absolutely no need for you to apologize to me, Your Grace." Zhongli shook his head, you didn’t have to justify your actions to anyone.
"If you really think so, fine." A slight smile touched your lips and a wave of tenderness washed over Zhongli’s heart.
You continued your walk and he began to talk about one of Liyue's legends that you always enjoyed listening to. Words flowed like a river from his mouth, smoothly painting a picture of the events of past years. But Zhongli's mind did not want to leave one question that he had been wanting to ask for quite some time.
“Why…” The question almost escaped his lips, but Zhongli pursed them, burying the unspoken words. A guilty expression appeared on his face, he interrupted his story, which you enjoyed so much, for the sake of unimportant question. Not that anything concerning you could be unimportant. Quite the opposite, there was nothing more important than you, your interests and personality.
“Zhongli, did something happen?”
The concern in your voice covered him with a warm blanket, the knowledge that you found him worthy of your excitement was pleasant, but what a sin it was to force you to experience even a drop of negative emotions.
“No, nothing important, Your Grace,” Zhongli quickly assured you that everything was fine.
Under your attentive, silent gaze, demanding information, Zhongli could only be glad that he was not in his half-dragon form, in which the tail would immediately betray his anxiety. Your whole appearance expressed that you were not going to just let the situation go.
"You know that you can share with me if something bothers you, and ask if something interests you."
The kindness of your words lay like a balm on his heart. If you really thought that there was nothing wrong with his curiosity at the moment, then…
"Why do you like cats so much, Your Grace?" Zhongli tilted his head in interest, letting his hair fall over his shoulders.
"Hmmm, not really that there's a specific reason. They're just cute little furry creatures, with adorable little paw pads and soothing purrs. I guess I've been a bit overzealous in showing my affection, but these fluffies are impossible to resist."
You laughed embarrassedly and Zhongli glared at your face, the sound as clear as spring water, gentle as the most expensive silk, mesmerizing like the most beautiful picture of nature, filled his ears.
“But do you know what I also love Zhongli?” A playful smile appeared on your lips and, fascinated by it, he could only look into your shining eyes.
You moved so close to him that he could feel the warmth of your body, even through your clothes, your breath warming his lips. Your palm rested on Zhongli’s chest, opposite his wildly beating heart, as if it was trying to leave his body and end up in your arms. He wouldn’t mind if this really happened; his heart has long belonged to you and like all of him.
"And what is it, Your Grace?" Zhongli asked enchanted, completely absorbed in the desire to reduce the millimeters separating your lips.
"Dragons, especially the one with the magnificent golden eyes the color of Cor Lapis."
Your declaration of love and the kiss you gave him were sweeter than any sweetness and clouded Zhongli’s mind better than his favorite osmanthus wine. The touch of your lips steals his breath and every single thought from his head, except for one feeling of euphoria, overwhelming his head. The heat of your mouth, your soft tongue intertwining with his, strips him of any remaining self-control. Zhongli purrs hungrily into your mouth and pulls you closer, wanting this moment, wonderful as a dream, to last as long as possible.
When you pull away, with a ragged breath and a haze of pleasure covering your eyes, the dragon inside Zhongli purrs happily, pleased with the view. He unbearably wants to press his lips to yours again, the knowledge of how sweet they are now will never leave him, the eternal temptation to taste the heavenly taste again, but he is restrained following your will.
“I think you can no longer be jealous of cats, okay?”
Zhongli coughs, trying to hide his embarrassment, it turns out you knew about the feelings he was experiencing all along, and nods in agreement.
As you continue your walk, with your permission, he gently holds your hand in his. Now he is happier than ever.
Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ
summary: When you die, the whole world collapses for Dottore, but maybe there is still hope?
warnings/tags: gn!Reader, religious + cult themes, description of the execution, description of injuries.
word count: 2.7 k~
note: I'm here again after all this time. (ーー;)ノ Brought you some Dottore, enjoy. Maybe there will be a second part, but I don't promise anything.
Scarlet blood spurts out and a severed head rolls down. Empty eye sockets are directed to the heavens, a happy smile frozen on your face, anticipating the end of torment, now sealed on your face with an eternal mask. Dottore feels his fingertips go numb, he stares blankly at your head and hair, matted with blood. The mechanical heart, which has never failed before, either skips beats or beats quickly.
His ears feel like they are filled with cotton and he hears no sound, the emptiness fills his heart drop by drop, leaving no space for anything else. What is this feeling called? Dottore tries to distract himself from the picture before his eyes and frantically tries to remember the right word, but his thoughts move slowly like flies stuck in honey. A flash of insight and a bitter taste appears in his mouth. Despair. A drop of blood runs down his chin; he didn’t notice when he bit his lip with his teeth. It seems that only ten seconds have passed since the execution, but to Dottore they seem like an eternity.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices tears running down the Tsaritsa’s face. There is no trace left of her usually cold personality. The harbingers look no better, for each of them there has long been no one left more important than you, and to lose you like that was terrible. More painful than the worst wound they received in life.
The one whom the archons call the Creator begins their speech with an unpleasant grin, full of self-satisfaction. They talks about the impostor and how proud they are of their dear followers for capturing you for him. He is sick of looking at the other archons; the proud appearance of Morax and the other archons makes him rage. It spreads like hot lava from the heart to the hands, convulsively clenching in impatience, the desire to strangle this ancient reptile overwhelms Dottore.
Your most loyal follower huh? The fool who fell for the fake sent by Celestia. He was the first to accept this abomination without doubting it even for a second. You were so different, your auras were completely different. A liar or a pathetic fool, whichever was true, Morax was disgusting.
When the fake finishes their incredibly pathetic speech, it will be their turn: Tsaritsa, the harbingers, the ordinary Fatui, they will all have to lose their lives.
Mentally, Dottore estimates the distance to the platform where Celestia’s puppet stands. Even though his delusion had been taken away just like the rest of the harbingers, that didn't mean he was going to give up. Dottore runs his tongue over teeth, checking their sharpness and squints with satisfaction, feeling the salty taste of blood appearing in his mouth. There is nothing worse than an animal driven into a corner, knowing that there is no chance of salvation, but still intending to resist.
When he is led past the platform to the guillotine, he will take the chance and take revenge. Although it would be more correct to call this the restoration of justice. You were innocent, You were their god.
When the fake solemnly spreads his hands and orders the executions to continue, the sky of Teyvat darkens, anyone could feel the fury of the elements. Dottore exhales in amazement, drops of your blood slowly rising into the air and changing their color from red to gold. The crackling of electricity, the smell of burning, strong gusts of wind, the temperature drops lower every second, plants are spreading across the entire area, bright and screaming about their toxicity, the earth trembles underfoot, on the horizon he can see the sea rising in waves, each of which is higher than the previous ones, threatening to flood the whole harbor.
The fake looks at what is happening in shock, but does not have time to say a single word. Lightning falls from the sky and strikes Celestia's puppet, one after the other in an endless stream, they follow each other. Dottore's heart is filled with gloomy triumph and at the same time unbearable bitterness. If Teyvat could have intervened directly, why didn’t he save you, their Creator? Why didn't the world prevent your death? Or was it your desire to reveal the truth only when nothing will it be impossible to fix it, leaving them all with eternal regret?
When the lightning stops falling from the sky, the fake turns into a smoking piece of charred flesh. The Archons look in surprise at the one they praised as the Creator, understanding slowly appears on their faces. One by one they helplessly turn their heads towards your body. Morax is the first to fall to his knees in front of your head, Dottore sees how his fingers tremble as he hesitates to touch your blood-stained cheek.
Tsaritsa looks contemptuously at each of these traitors. Dottore knows that now she would with great pleasure impale each of the archons on ice spikes if only the shackles did not block her powers.
In a half-strangled voice, Morax orders the Millelith to release all of them.
After being released, Dottore and the rest of the harbingers follow Tsaritsa as she goes to the archons and… your body. Standing next to it is unbearably painful, his eyes cling to every scratch on your face, his heart falls into a cold empty hole, now that he can clearly see your empty eye sockets.
As far as he knew, the Electro Archon was to blame for this; he would have broken every bone in her hands, and then lowered her into a vat of acid and watched as her flesh peeled off from the bones.
Tsaritsa's voice is cold and gloomy when she speaks to the rest of the archons.
"There is no punishment that can atone for your sin and death will not be your salvation. You will live the rest of your eternity in pain, I promise you all that."
A drop of your golden blood slowly moves in the air, Dottore follows their movement with his eyes. Was there a chance to save you, why did everything turn out that way? Why he, Tsaritsa and the other harbingers turned out to be so weak and useless? They too were sinners, those who did not save and they will bear this sin until the end of their lives.
Dottore could still feel the remnants of your aura, faintly, but he could, and he closed his eyes, absorbing this feeling, which was soon to dissipate. Or not? Dottore's eyes widened, an arrow of hope piercing his heart. Your spirit was still here, weak, fading, still existing, attached to drops of golden blood.
"The Creator has not left us yet, his spirit is still here."
The face of Tsaritsa and the other archons lit up with faint hope, their gazes were directed at him, all-consuming, unwavering attention emanated from them, however, such a gaze was directed at Dottore from everyone who was present in the square.
"Collect all the blood, not a single drop should be lost; the soul of the Creator is attached to it. I can try to save Their Grace, but we must act quickly before their spirit dissipates."
Dottore is determined. He will succeed, he cannot fail, he will not make mistakes, just not in such an important matter as this. Despite the mental pep talk he gave himself, Dottore's palms become treacherously cold and he begins to nervously tap a rhythm with his fingers on his thigh.
He needed a workplace, his laboratories would be ideal, but he was not sure that your spirit would survive the trip to Snezhnaya. He had to act quickly, Dottore could feel the grains of time slipping through his fingers.
When he and the clones find themselves in the silence of the temporary laboratory provided by Qixing, Dottore allows himself only one nervous sigh before taking control of his emotions. The time for all the emotions will come later, when he successfully returns life to you.
He begins to give instructions to the clones, who are preparing everything necessary for Dottore's most important work. It’s good that he managed to drive out all the traitors of the archons and other personalities who tried to be present, even Tsaritsa, nothing should distract him, the price of a mistake is too great.
The punishment of the archons was temporarily postponed, Tsaritsa said that when you become alive again, you yourself will determine the punishment for these traitors. It's when, not if. Now the whole seven had to destroy Celestia, which had committed the unforgivable.
Your headless body lying on the operating table looked foreign, wrong of all places, you should never have ended up here. You should have enjoyed the balls held in your honor, the gifts offered to you by your followers.
To begin with, it was worth understanding whether it made sense to try to restore your human shell or was it already in a completely unusable state? A severed head is a big obstacle to the restoration of your body, but Dottore had no guarantee that your soul could take root in a synthetic body, and the ability to create it in a short time, so there was only one possibility left. It was necessary to attach your head back to the body, check the body for damage to internal organs and, if there were any, heal them. Before you begin the process of returning your soul to the mortal coil.
The test results showed, although not the most comforting results, but everything was not so bad, of course, with the exception of the severed head. General severe exhaustion of the body, which will be corrected by the correct diet after your resurrection, which will definitely be successful. It couldn't fail. After all, if he failed, would there be any point in his existence, in the existence of nations, in Teyvat? Without you, nothing made sense.
Dottore shakes his head, driving away bad thoughts and returns to work. In order for the head to subsequently work as it should, each nerve and blood vessel had to be connected correctly. Painstaking work that requires a lot of patience, well, Dottore never complained about its lack.
Hour after hour, the clock ticked peacefully in the background, measuring time, while Dottore and his clones painstakingly put everything back together as it was originally. The last batch of stitches signals the end of such a complex operation. The muscles of his back ached in protest against the same position for hours.
Dottore looked at his work satisfactorily, touching the stitches and then immediately pursed his lips in regret. This is not how it was supposed to be. He walked over to the table and gave himself an injection that instantly banished any fatigue and made his mind crystal clear again. In a day he will definitely feel very bad when the kickback comes, but you were definitely worth it. In fact, if he were now offered to give his life in exchange for yours, he would agree without hesitation.
It was time to start the second stage, it was necessary to do something with your eyes. Unfortunately, all he could offer you now were temporary prosthetics, not as advanced as those he and the clones used. He will definitely replace them later with better ones.
One of the many things he regretted was that he didn't get to see your eyes, they should have been gorgeous. In legends they were described as unearthly, as if entire constellations and the endless night sky were reflected in them.
As gently as possible, Dottore cleaned your eye holes from dirt and blood, carefully stretched the wires to the back lobe of the brain, to which the optic nerves are attached, and finally inserted the prostheses. Dentures you should never have. The color looked inappropriate, too artificial, alien, wrong, Dottore swallowed dryly.
He sits down on a chair nearby and wearily hides his face in his hands. Fatigue, not physical, but moral, covers him in a wave and the heaviness in his chest does not allow him to breathe. He knows that it will only disappear when you take your breath and your heart beats again.
Dottore was never particularly religious in his youth, he was interested in the story of the creation of the world and definitely admired you, but there was never any real reverence in his feelings then. Everything gradually began to change when he joined Fatui. Every year he learned more and more about you and his devotion to you only grew, gradually completely capturing his heart until there was nothing left in him except you.
All the humanity that was in him, no matter how little it was, was intended only for you. All his achievements were dedicated to you. He all belonged to you, only you. And at the moment there was nothing he could want more than to see you alive. The same desire burned with a passionate flame in the eyes of his clones standing nearby.
The last stage is the most important. Dottore carefully inserts a needle into your vein and begins to pour your blood back into your body. He feels your spirit waver, as if you doesn’t want to return.
He looks over your body; bright blue veins stand out on your pale skin, there are various bruises and scratches on your body, which he, of course, treated, but to his regret the healing was not instantaneous. This picture breaks him into fragments, leaving a cold emptiness instead of his mechanical heart, his inability to correct what happened. Was there any point in all his knowledge that he had been collecting for centuries if now it was almost completely useless at the most important moment of his life. All that Dottore can do now is pray, pray to you, to the elements, to Teyvat. Please come back, please, please, please…
He knew it was a selfish desire, this world wasn't worthy of you, they weren't worthy of you, not after what happened. But hope, a feeling that had not come to him for a very long time since the time of the academy, flared up in his soul. The last drops of blood poured back into your body and deathly silence fell in the laboratory. Those few seconds when nothing happened seemed like an eternity, frightening, cold, hopeless to Dottore. The claws of the unknown tore his heart apart, did he succeed? Would you like to return?
Your trembling breath and wide-open eyes bring Dottore into a state close to euphoric. You were alive again, relief fills him and makes him dizzy with happiness. He feels something wet rolling down his cheek and wipes it away in confusion. A tear. A lot of time had passed since the last time he cried, and he had definitely never had tears of happiness until that moment. Well, you always made him feel an unusual amount of different emotions.
When you go into a coughing fit, one of the clones instantly brings you a mug of water and looks at your face with concern. You take a few greedy sips, and then turn your confused gaze on him, gradually filling with fear. Dottore's heart clenches unpleasantly, this is not how you were supposed to look at him. Not what he wants and not how it should be.
You try to say something, but again break into a cough. Dottore instantly approaches, he wants… to console you, to assure you that you are safe, but the words lie like dead weight on his tongue. He carefully reaches out to your hand, but freezes millimeters from your skin. He felt confused, useless. You will probably be uncomfortable with the touches of a sinner like him.
You carefully peer into his face, by the way your gaze moves along the features of his face, it seems to him that you are looking for an answer to some very important question for you. And after a few moments, the answer seems to satisfy you, a relieved sigh escapes your lips and you reach out with your hand to his, carefully placing your hand in his.
Dottore swallows dryly, warmth rising up his arm from where you touch.
"Everything will be fine, Your Grace. Now everything will be fine, I promise."
Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ
note: This lovely lady knocked down my entire fic-writing schedule and shamelessly got into the queue, but I forgive her. After all, she is my wife.
The performance ended and the sound of loud applause still hung in the air. The audience had already left, the actors had gone to their dressing rooms, and the hall was completely empty, except for the two of you.
Arlecchino followed you as a shadow as you descended from your loggia and ascended to the stage. You looked around the hall with interest and turned your gaze to her. She managed to keep her outer composure under your scanning gaze, but inside her, anxiety began to slowly rise. Is there something wrong with her looks? Before she had time to get completely flustered, you walked up to her and smiled as you held out your hand to her.
"Dance?"
Her heart skips a beat and she peers into your face in amazement, her mouth slightly parted and she tries to say at least something, but the words freeze on her lips. You looked at her so tenderly, waiting for her answer, Arlecchino swallowed hard, your kindness was often sung in songs, but the encounter with this, amazed, shocked, stole all the air from her lungs.
You did her such an honor with your invitation, here on the stage you stood patiently waiting for her answer, as if you thought that she could refuse you. She would never do that, Arlecchino never refused the gifts of fate.
You were too kind a god, graciously distributing your grace to everyone, even those who did not really deserve it. Arlecchino clenched her hand into a fist, digging her nails into her palm, these disgusting miserable creatures, none of them had the right to bask in the rays of your strength, enjoy your attention. To tear them apart, mutilate them so that the thought of meeting with you would not dare to come to mind.
She shook her head to drive away bad thoughts and finally carefully put her hand in yours, as if afraid that it would melts like dew in the morning.
When you pull her to you, goosebumps go down the back of Arlecchino, you were so close and it clouded her mind better than any wine or fire water from Snezhnay.
You were the Creator of Teyvat, the God she prayed to as a little girl, standing in the cold with numb fingers that she didn't feel at all then. A weak child who spent hours in front of your statue on the street in the small village where she lived. Then it seemed to her that a wild cold settled right in her bones, but Arlecchino did not stop, whispering the words of prayer with her blue, cracked lips.
Your hand on her lower back, burning heat penetrated through the layers of clothing and seemed to reach the heart in a warm wave. Arlecchino put her hand on your shoulder and licked her dry lips. As you gently intertwined your fingers, she bit her bottom lip with force almost to the point of blood.
As a child, she could not even dream of the opportunity to see you live, to stand so close that she could feel your breath on her face. She tries to snuggle even closer to you and draws in the air next to your skin, enjoying your natural scent. Bliss.
You start dancing and Arlecchino obediently moves with you in the same rhythm, adjusting to your pace. Another step, turn, the hem of her tailcoat develops behind her, following the movements. The sound of Arlecchino's heels echoes through the empty hall. Her body was filled with a weightlessness that she had not felt before, as if she had wings growing behind her back. Next to you it has always been like this, life is usually gray and tasteless filled with colors.
She keeps her eyes on you, absorbing every change of emotion on your face. Greedily, inextricably as your faithful follower shouldn't have done, but she just couldn't stop. Closer, get even closer to you, until she becomes the one you trust the most, get rid of all the annoying insects spinning around you. So that your warmth, your tenderness, belong only to her.
Music begins to play softly, gradually becoming louder, sounding from all sides.
"I think it will be better with music."
A playful smile appears on your face and Arlecchino wants to kiss it. Right now, press her lips to yours, steal your breath and never breathe out again, keeping a part of you in yourself.
Seconds pass adding up into minutes, the time of your closeness that Arlecchino burns into her memory, stores like gems in a cache. The awkward movement leading up to a brief contact of yours thighs sends shivers up her back and leaves her legs weak.
Your shadows under the harsh spotlight look inseparable, merged so strongly and completely that they are unable to part.
The last chords that put a bitter taste in Arlecchino's mouth and mark the end of her happiness. The footsteps slow down and you freeze under the ensuing deafening silence. Arlecchino's back arched, supported only by your hand, your faces so close to each other that she could count your eyelashes. The smallest distance between your lips beckoned to reduce it, to succumb to passion, to let go of control.
You close your eyes and gently touch your lips to hers. Cautiously, as if Arlecchino were an expensive crystal that threatened to break from any careless movement, tremulously like the touch of a butterfly's wings. Arlecchino deepens the kiss, her hand moving to the back of your head. You were like spring water, your taste was sweet and refreshing, only making her want more. No matter how much she try, there will always be little, a thirst that could not be quenched.
Arlecchino wasn't about to let you go, not after she got so close. She will convince you that she is the best, that she is more worthy than any of your followers, be they archons or ordinary owners of vision. Anything for you, just be close to her, save all your smiles and tenderness only for her. All you are only for her.
Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ
The third day I read a Chinese novel, now on the three hundredth chapter and there is no end and edge to this. This is not even the middle of the story. I will not give up and I will reach the end, only 600 chapters left (눈_눈)
I was just sitting and watching funny cat videos when it dawned on me. Just imagine the sagau!Zhongli who isekai'd into your world and you allow him to stay in your apartment. Let's say you have a cat and at some point you decide to buy catnip, or you already had supplies and all of a sudden it starts to affect him. (suggestive)
Zhongli's breathing becomes heavier and deeper, his pupils become vertical and scales appear on his cheeks. When he kneels before you, his gaze is full of awe and greed emanating from his dragon nature, which he usually hides. His thoughts are full of you as always, Zhongli wants to serve you, to be with you. What a blessing that among all your followers, it was he who was lucky to be in your world. But the part of him, the selfish part that he usually tries to shut up, blossoms in all its glory. He served you for such a long time, millennia after millennium prayers in your honor escaped his lips. Zhongli wants a reward, some kind of confirmation that you noticed his efforts and appreciated them. And he takes the liberty of leaning his head against your thigh, begging for your mercy, for your touch. When your hand rests on his head and you start stroking him, the Zhongli make a short, semi-growling, semi-purring sound. Horns grow out of his skull, whose bases are very sensitive and touching them makes him moan, tears of pleasure welling in the corners of his eyes. Zhongli's tail crawls excitedly across the floor, his eyes are covered with long eyelashes, hiding the arousal burning in them from you.
I finally watched the developers stream and I just want to say that this animal is adorable. Now that's the reason I'm waiting for Fontaine. These pretty little horns, these eyes, it's lovely. Officially this is my second favorite animal in genshin after rishboland tiger.
