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writing style. Do not interact with this blog because you will not be
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“You humans confuse me. You try so very hard to be as boring as everybody else, and, when some gifted soul is born that has some small degree of uniqueness to it, you beat and break it until it fits into a dull little box that you can understand. Explain this to me, if you please.”
A moment between Dottore and his young daughter. Established Dottore/Original Female Character. Part of the Heretic and Forsaken series. On AO3 here.
“Ya ruhi” > “my soul”
“Abi” > “Father”
A faint tugging barely tore Zandik’s attention away from the report in front of him. Without breaking his focus, he spoke softly, only enough edge in his voice to warn, never scare.
“Remember: be gentle.”
“Blue,” came the reply, proud and excited.
“Yes, that’s blue. What else is blue, ya ruhi?” he prompted.
“Hair!”
Out of the corner of his eye, the Harbinger caught a tiny hand reaching for his hair. She was dexterous for her age, eager and excited; however, she didn’t know her strength and Zandik was well aware of the consequences of it. Deftly, he reached up and redirected her hand so she gripped his fingers instead.
“Yes, my hair is blue. So is yours.”
He skimmed the rest of the report and then cast the paper aside. There was still plenty to do, especially in the aftermath of it all. He needed to oversee soil and water samples for traces of elemental energy, evaluate Leyline flare-ups from residual memories that didn’t burn properly, allocating resources and smoothing over conflicts. The latter was hardly his problem directly but Pierro would ask and it was better to have an answer ready.
Without Archons, humanity could take back the reins, finally. They would know this world and all its secrets and wonders.
It would be better. Born through revitalizing fires, sprouting from the ashes anew.
“Abi?”
It was refreshing to hear his language from someone else and caught him every time. He'd been away for so long, shunned from it, but he could never truly erase the traces. Karina emphasized that she wanted their child to know who they were, where they came from, and language was vital. He agreed (after all, he'd studied dozens of them himself) and was filled with an odd sense of pride every time he watched eyes glow when something clicked in her growing mind.
His daughter shifted in his lap and tapped her hand to his cheek softly before she experimented and brushed over the scruff he hadn’t bothered with as of late. She giggled, running her hand one way and then another. He never grew out an entire beard (too much maintenance) but some mornings, there was no time for more than scrubbing away the day’s dirt. Especially when Karina was away.
Zandik carefully pried her hand from his face and blew kisses into her palm. She squealed and his heart lurched at the sound.
This world needed more of that.
“Having fun, ya ruhi?” he teased.
Her smile was an echo of her mother’s; congenial and sweet in a way his never could be. Eyes like emeralds, so verdant that he’d been bizarrely relieved. But then he was left with the question of how recessive red eyes were after all; he would find out eventually, he supposed, if Karina was willing. Such gems contrasted with a head full of thick blue curls, her one defining and unmistakable trait of her parentage.
“Yes! Love abi!”
“I love you, too. It’s late. Do you want to—“
“‘Spection!”
The little girl threw her arms wide, narrowly missing her father’s nose. Her diction would come with time, he reminded himself as he collected her in his arms.
“Exactly. We’ll inspect the lab and make sure everything is safe. And then it’s bedtime.”
He felt the pout more than he saw it, an idle hand playing with his earring as they walked.
“Sleep is important, ya ruhi,” he chastised carefully.
She couldn’t fall into his habits. As wide as her eyes were about the world, she had time for it all. And he wouldn’t sacrifice her wellbeing for his selfishness of wanting these moments to last longer.
The quiet was better than outright protest, but only just. Her acceptance of authority made these moments easier, certainly. Soon enough, she’d be telling everyone no and seeing how far she could get.
Soon enough, she’d be too big to be carried.
Zandik shifted her slightly to rearrange his hold as he pushed open the door to the laboratory. Nothing as grand as what he had at the Palace but large enough that he could do as he needed. He went about, pointing to things and speaking clearly, letting her touch what wasn’t dangerous, asking her simple yes or no questions. Now was not the time to engage in larger topics but if she asked, he answered in ways that felt complete enough for now.
She could learn about crystalflies properly another time.
He watched her face light up as he tidied up his desk and locked away important papers. Really, the most imperative things were in his mind, but written records were crucial.
“Mama!”
An excited hand pointed to the metal arm resting on a stand atop his desk. The plating was removed, wires dangling in organized heaps, the sharp fingers angled like a claw.
“That’s right,” Zandik said before he kissed the girl’s temple. “Mama’s arm.”
Karina came back with a strained expression and the arm in her good hand. The device was made of the strongest metal and the finest circuitry; he’d crafted it with care he didn’t know he was capable of. She’d handed over the arm with an apologetic kiss and then hugged their daughter tight with her good arm, holding back an expression he hadn’t seen since…
“Abi fix mama?” She said it with an upwards inflection, the way she did when a toy broke or something went wrong. Worried for nothing except her mother being able to hug her.
Zandik held the child in his arms a little tighter.
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"Damn brat! Get back here!" Villain swore under their breath as they searched for the witness that got away, leaving the dead body in the abandoned alleyway.
Villain ran out of the alleyway, seeing the witness run into none other than his beloved Hero.
"Hero! You have to help me! V-villain just killed someone and is chasing me!" The witness pleaded with Hero, clinging to them like their life depended on it (because it did).
Hero looked behind the witness, locking eyes with Villain. Hero looked unamused, disappointed, even.
Villain opened their mouth to speak, only to hear the sound of a gunshot ring through the air, followed by the thud of a body.
The witness fell to the ground, their brains blowed to pieces from a bullet shot by Hero's gun.
"How irresponsible, Villain. I thought you were better than that, letting a witness escape. If they had gotten to the police, who knows how much paperwork I'd have to do!" Hero walked up to a dumbfounded Villain, hugging them and smearing the witness's blood on their shirt.
"I-I thought you hated killing!" Villain stammered out, not reciprocating the hug.
ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: theme of obsessiveness, yandere (big surprise!!) lyney + wrio's part mentions past abuse, all the stuff that comes as a side to this au !! ngl neuvillette's part is pretty tame he's literally. just a guy (otter)
⤷ [ you, the heavenly being who created celestia itself, has descended upon teyvat in an earthly form. a god, or at least, theirs. ]
— sagau!lyney has always lived to be beheld by the eye.
Displays of extravagance, bouquets of flowers and pairs of white doves fluttering from his finger tips. Yes, that was where he belonged, standing on his place at the center of the stage, bright lights fixed on his form as he swept in his arm in a wide bow towards his beloved audience. Listening to their adoring cheers and drinking it all in - their support, the fame, their fanatic attention.
Attention was always something he had yearned for. Cold days exist in his memory, where he wandered the street aimlessly, pale skin littered with growing purple bruises, his only refuge the light tug of Lynette's soot-stained hands clinging onto what rags he wore. In those times, he remembers, a faint voice from above, angelic and holy, soft and compassionate.
A voice that was, in fact, yours. You had stared with wide eyes at your device as the cutscene began, instantly overcome with emotion. "Lyney, Lynette... was this how you had been living? Goddamn, I know every character in this game has a tragic backstory, but look at them!! They're... they're precious!! Wahhh, I want to take you in... Lyney, you better come home..." They were merely throwaway comments that you had blurted out in the shelter of your room, absolutely fixated on their pretty character designs and the dwindling number of primogems your inventory held. Not only had you lost the 50/50 to Qiqi herself, you were now nearing hard pity, and the charming magician was still nowhere in sight. You shut your eyes "Ah... Lyney, how come you-"
Light flickered before your closed eyelids, and you felt the wind tug at your body. Your stomach lurched, oh shit, were you falling..?
"-won't..."
Someone caught you with ease, swift and capable arms holding you, one supporting your back and the other hefting both your legs. Twinkling purple eyes met yours. "Ah, are you alright?" You quickly shook your head, too shaken to speak words at the moment. Surveying your surroundings only brought another wave of confusion - strange buildings, glittering blue lakes and trees, an unfamiliar landscape... Your gaze shifted, and you caught the sight of uncanny ash blond hair, and the hat that sat atop it. Lyney?
He hummed in acknowledgement. "So, you've just fallen from the sky." There was no way in mistaking his voice. "Is there an explanation behind that, or...?"
"I...I- I don't know why I'm here...!" You stuttered, and he visibly flinched at your voice, eyes widening. Shit, had you done something wrong? You trembled in his arms, attempting to stand by yourself, but he wouldn't let you move from his grasp.
"I see." His voice was quiet, now, and came in a single breath. His pupils shook as he closed his eyes in a smile. "Then, shall I bring you somewhere where you'll be safe?"
His heart was racing, pounding against his chest, and he could hardly breath, instead taking in short, desperate little gasps that did little to keep him standing. You.
It was a voice he swore he'd never let escape his recollection, and now there was a face, and touch to pair it with. He smile widened, and his eyes shined with pure ecstasy. It was you, in the flesh, his archon, his god, the highest being. Your body was holy, and he longed to praise it, his dark heart being cleansed just by bathing in your presence. Yet you seemed so fragile in his arms, how cute... it wouldn't be fair to keep you to himself, but being selfish is what allowed him to get this far. Like a songbird in a cage, he'd trap you, admire you, worship you.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you could feel his smile's sweet grow more sickening every beat of silence that passed. "No, What? I-"
His hand struck the back of your neck. Your voice died as your eyes fluttered shut. And in that moment Lyney pressed a kiss to both of your closed lids, a tender touch that one might describe as "loving", but what truly lie beneath it was far more twisted. His heart beat only for you, and red flushed across his cheeks.
"There's no need to worry, my eminence. I'll put on a show, just for your delight." ₊˚ෆ
— sagau!neuvillette has always yearned for warmth.
A warmth is not present in the courts of Fontaine. There, it is cold, sharp, the biting frigidness numbing the hearts of people - those who stand before him in trial, and those who watch with glee in the crowd, awaiting his final verdict with bated breaths.
Neuvillette was most renowned for his judgement. But it was his own that was a critical flaw. For what truly was judgement? Had he been justified in casting a murderer, in some eyes, but a hero in others, into the Fortress of Meropide? A mere child, who just sought for warmth, just as he had? He fears his heart has also grown cold and indifferent to the world, and he despises himself for it.
Was it not your warm hand that stroked him lovingly so back then, a quiet, soothing touch that swept away the tears and the salt that clung to his cheeks? Was it not your voice who called out to him on those ever so lonely nights, humming an otherworldly tune as your ghostly visage wiped the sorrow that flowed his downcast eyes? Yes, truly. It was your warmth that caused his eyes to glow anew, your warmth that allowed his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears to flush with contentment.
"Oh, wise ludex! This man is a murder! He stole not only my mother's assets, but my mother's life!" The crowd gasped at the dramatic declaration, their gazes shifting back and forth, from the perpetrator to the "witness." "I will dearly miss her... this man, no, this monster, took my mother away by hitting her over the head with none other than a bludgeon!"
Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Mr... Lucas."
"Y-Yes, ludex?"
"It was never disclosed to the public of what weapon the killer used."
The crowd erupted into a series of sharp inhales, surprised noises muffled by a hand over the mouth, round eyes as large as dinner plates, and frantic head turning. Journalists scribbled frantically in their notebooks, sweat pouring from their faces as they stumbled upon their newest cash cow.
"The verdict. Mr. Lucas is found to be guilty."
And they cheered. For what? Neuvillette narrowed his eyes just a fraction, his displeasure rising. They knew nothing. They were just mindless puppets, willing themselves to follow the sway of the crowd, praising and applauding something that naught needed its praise.
A sensation came over him, like the soft caress and flutter of an angel's wings or a soft, sweet sigh escaping from pouting, half-opened lips. The man snapped his head up, hearing the glass behind him shatter and plummet downwards like crystal raindrops, but what verily sent his heart apounding was the sight of a figure, dressed in heavenly silks, bathed in golden light, and descending into the courtroom. He drank it all in with a bated breath, hearing that for once, the crowd was silence.
You landed in his arms. Beautiful. He almost didn't dare move with you in his arms, in fear of his legs giving way underneath him. Your head lulled into his chest, eyes shut, and your pure, unbridled warmth finally met him, finally doused him in its prescence.
"Your... your eminence..." His voice was a mere echo, quiet, containing little sound at all. "I..."
"To you who has granted me such the blessing of warmth, I shall repay with all of my heart." ₊˚ෆ
— sagau!wriothesley has always wanted... someone to hold him.
It's a selfish thing to long for, and a silent one. Who would pay any heed to a duke's ramblings? Love's a thought that he's never quite fully digested, almost as if he can't truly believe it exists. Of course, he's seen Fontaine's couples, strolling up and down the street, hand-in-hand, yet questions himself in what makes them able to love each other. Perhaps it wasn't his problem with them, but more so a problem with himself.
Ah, that was it.
His heart already belonged to someone, someone he had heard once and never witnessed again. Like the softest breath of the wind, or a joyful child's laughter, it brushed through his soul and soothed it, held it in its arms, and fussed over his messy hair and bruised skin. At times, Wriothesley wondered if it was all a dream, for only something that angelic, mesmerizing could not stem from reality. However, as young as he was in those years, he cannot deny the fact that in his dark days - it was your mysterious voice that carried him into the life, your presence that gave him the wings to continue living.
Yes, since that day, his every breath, every flutter of his eyes and every pump of blood that rushed anew into his veins from his heart was solely for the purpose of meeting you once more.
Another typical day at the Fortress of Meropide - paperwork strewn all over his once-organized desk, a cooled cup of tea sitting next to where his hand lie, the other furiously writing away on the said paper. He ran a hand through his hair, grumbling into his palm as he briefly shut his eyes... only to shoot them back upon in a start as he heard the sound of something crashing against the walls, and the sound of paper, flying everywhere akin to a bird.
There was someone, lying, or rather, sprawled across his desk. Dizzy-eyed and muttering something intelligible, a growing red spot on their forehead gradually becoming increasingly more visible. "How did you get in here?" He's immediately put up his defenses, readying his gloves as he steps over - with quiet remorse - the papers that now blanket the ground.
"...Wh...Where am I?"
That. That voice.
Has he stopped breathing? He can feel all the blood rush to his head, and he can hardly think a single coherent thought, only focusing on the rush in his ears, the shaking of his hands, and the sight of you before him, dressed simply in sleepware and glancing around frantically. Gorgeous. Ethereal. The mere sight of you before him had spurred his heart into an erratic, fanatic pace, beating within his body like he'd die if it slowed down.
"Is... Is something wrong?" He was taken aback at the hand waving over his eyes, before settling back into position, realizing that you had been trying to speak with him for the past half-minute in his zoned-out state. Could you see it? The sin that was clearly displayed in his every breath, in his every inch of being?
"No, nothing's wrong." You seemed to have calmed down somewhat, and while your eyes were still filled with confusion, you tilted your head at his words. How come he was smiling...?
"Ah, then about that question-"
"Home. You're home. And this is where you'll be staying, forever." ₊˚ෆ
(a/n) ugh i swear to god i hate every single thing ive ever written for wriothesley he seems so yucky and out of character WJODJKFLJDSMF>
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Inspired by the song. (Youll know at the end what song)
————
"Hero, calm down. We're going to make it out of this." Villain spoke in a hushed voice, looking around the room that the two of them were tied up in. Despite being panicked himself, they still did his best to calm Hero down.
"Hero, look at me." They said sternly, waiting for Hero to lock eyes with them.
"We are going to be okay. The city will be okay. Take a few breaths... In... And out..." They watched Hero take a few deep breaths under Villain's guidance, calming down.
"How are we going to get out of here? Who even kidnapped us?" Hero's voice was quiet as he let his eyes glance around the room for a way out.
"I have a general idea of who.. This one villain has been nagging me for ages, wanting me to convince you to join us. I guess they got tired of waiting." Villain said with a sigh. "It's pointless, hero. We can't use our powers, stop looking around and look in my eyes. Get your mind off this situation. The less you panic from finding something, the better."
Villain leaned his head against the wall, letting themself rest in the chair as Hero locked eyes with them.
"Okay... Okay." Hero said under their breath, just as the door creaked open and Supervillain walked in.
"Well well, finished talking, lovebirds?" Supervillain laughed, twirling a gun in their hand. "How cute. Villain trying to calm Hero down..."
Villain shot Supervillain a glare. "What do you want." Villain's voice was filled with venom as they spoke.
"What do I want? I wanted to play a game!" Supervillain laughed again, walking around Villain, who was bound to the chair and struggling to get free.
"A-a game? What type of game?" Hero's voice was timid, a rare sight.
"A game of this or that! Now, pick." Supervillain held the gun to Villain's temple, watching the way Villain froze in shock and fear.
"Supervillain, please don't do this!" Hero's pleas fell on deaf ears.
"What would you rather see live? The city... Or your precious villain?" Supervillain smirked, knowing hero would choose the city over Villain.
Villain stopped dead in his tracks, freezing as the question left Supervillain's mouth. Villain knew they weren't going to be the answer. Hero loved the city more than their own life, so there was no way they would choose them over the city-
"Villain. Destroy the city, burn it to the ground for all I care... Leave. Them. Alone." Hero demanded, that usual cold and fierce facade reentering their face. "I'd let the world burn for them."
Villain couldn't help but smile at their lover, watching Supervillain hesitate, before the windows caved in and Villain's team broke in to save them.
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"What are you doing here?" Villain asked, walking behind Hero. Villain held an umbrella over Hero to stop them from getting more wet then they were already.
"What do you mean? Why I'm in a graveyard?" Hero asked rhetorically with a slight scoff, kneeling beside a grave. "That's question seems more fitting for you."
"I asked first." Villain said with venom in their tone, glaring at Hero.
Hero went quiet. It wasn't every day that they got to open up to someone, let alone to their mortal enemy.
"Well? Cat got your tongue?" Villain raised an eyebrow.
"Shut it. I'm not opening up to you." Hero responded, only briefly turning away from the gravestone to glare at Villain.
"I didn't say you had to open up, I asked why you were here. Surely, you don't know 53 people personally." Hero's eyes widened as Villain pointed out how many graves Hero had visited and left flowers at.
"And you intend to visit about 20 more, based on the amount of flowers left in the bouquet." Villain smirked, knowing they had cornered Hero to make them speak.
Hero hesitated for a second before speaking, "No... You're right. I didn't know these people personally."
"Then why are you paying your respects?"
"Because I killed these people."
Villain froze, completely shocked by Hero's words. They had never seen Hero even raise a finger to the worst of the civilians, let alone end someone's life. Hero was an angel, at least, that's what Villain thought.
"Why? How?" Villain asked, watching Hero stand up.
"They got caught in the cross-fire of my fights." Villain's eyes softened. Hero was still an angel, but one ridden with guilt for something they couldn't control.
"It's not your fault, you know..." Villain's tone raised, and they spoke slower, as if talking to a scared child.
"...what?" Hero didn't understand. They had killed them. They had gotten to reckless when fighting villains, and killed these people.
"It's not your fault. You didn't kill these people. Why are you holding yourself responsible?" Villain placed a hand on Hero's shoulder, silence filling the air, interrupted by only the sound of rain hitting the ground and umbrella.
"Because I did. I was to reckless with my power, I should have been more careful, I could ha—"
"Hero." Villain cut them off. "You couldn't control it. It's not your fault. You were doing your job. Think about it. If you were more cautious, you couldn't have taken down some of the greatest villains, like Supervillain. These minor losses were simply the effects of saving many more people in the future. So please, calm down, and stop blaming yourself." Villain ended their speech with a sigh. "Please."
Hero couldn't help but wince as Villain dug the tweezers into their wound. "Be gentle, would you?" Hero said with slight venom in their tone.
"No." Villain spoke plainly, their expression neutral, but they were very bad at controlling their body language.
"Why are you mad at me?" Hero questioned, wincing again as Villain pulled a piece of debris out of the wound. Villain put the bloodied tweezers down on the table, grabbing a needle and thread.
"Because you didn't fucking dodge." Villain snapped, beginning to stitch the wound, ignoring Hero's sounds of pain that they would enjoy in any other scenario.
"I didn't anticipate that you'd throw a fucking pole at m- Ow! Gentle!"
"You still didn't dodge."
"Stop rubbing it in! I know- Fuck- Be gentle!" Hero raised their voice as Villain practically stabbed the needle into their skin.
"Not what you were saying last night." Villain teased, their demeanor switching like a lightbulb.
"You confuse me. First, you hate me, now, you're flirting? You make no sense." Hero said with a sigh.
Villain laughed as they heard the door of their secret base open. Villain had taken Hero's sidekick hostage, resulting in Hero going on a hunt for them.
"Well well well... Finally decided to show up, ha-" Villian cut themself off as they noticed blood on the Hero. "Is it yours?"
Villain quickly walked approached Hero, concern etched on their face.
"Of course it's mine. I don't kill, Villain." Hero coughed as they spoke. "I couldn't stop them... I'm sorry." Hero started coughing a bit of blood into their hand, losing their balance.
"Hero!" Villain screamed, disregarding the tied up sidekick and his own henchman watching from the corner. Villain caught Hero before they hit the ground, holding them tightly.
"Who did this to you...?" Villain asked, their question worded like a statement.
"Supervillain... Your rival." Hero coughed again.
"How dare th- nevermind that. Sidekick, get the healer!" Villain said to his henchman.
Safe to say, Hero didn't have to worry about Supervillain anymore...
POV: In the middle of a fight, Villain catches on to Hero's exhaustion.
———
Villain and Hero were in the midst of a very dangerous fight. Several buildings had already collapsed, and several civilians were wounded. Villain had surprisingly no wounds, which was odd for Villain this far into battle.
Villain soon realized why though. Hero looked exhausted. But not from fighting. It was like Hero hadn't had a break in a while...
Villain sighed as they lowered their weapon. "Come on, Hero. Stop fighting."
Of course, he was met with retaliation. Hero took advantage of Villain's lowered weapon, and went for the final blow. However, Hero's movements were sluggish at best, slow at worst. Villain was able to easily dodge and even deliver a counter-attack, punching them right between the ribs.
Hero grunted, falling back onto the ground. Villain quickly pinned them down.
"Finally ready to surrender, little hero?" Villain smirked as they spoke, trapping Hero's hands above their head so they couldn't get away.
"Go to hell, Villain. I'll never sur-" Hero was cut off by a quick jab to the temple.
"Sorry not sorry. You look like you need rest." Villain spoke as Hero fell unconscious. Villain picked them up and hoisted them over their shoulder.
Villain glanced around at the terrified civilians. The other heroes would be there soon to deal with them. They'll be fine, right?
Eh, Villain doesn't care. They carried Hero to Villain's apartment, bringing Hero into the bedroom and practically throwing them on the bed.
Villain knew Hero wouldn't be cooperative when they woke up, so it was best to restrain or handcuff Hero.
After handcuffing Hero to the bed, Villain went downstairs and started to make some vegetable soup. Although, Villain wasn't the best cook...
Trial and error, am I right?
After about 7 failed attempts, Villain finally got it right. Villain made it look fancy for Hero. Why? Don't ask. Villain's embarrassed.
They took it up to the bedroom, placing the soup on a table as they waited for Hero to wake up.
Soon, Hero did arise from their beauty sleep, but instead of fighting back like Villain had anticipated, Hero nuzzled into the bed.
Hero was bound to a chair, scowling beneath their mask as they glared at Villain. Hero wouldn't be stuck to this stupid chair if it hadn't been for Villain's insanely strong punches.
"Well well, I wonder what you look like now that I have you all tied up like this..." Villain circled Hero, stopping behind them and tracing a finger along their shoulder, trailing it up to Hero's ear. Villain traced the outline of the strings that held Hero's mask in place.
"Don't you dare, Villain!" Hero threatened, the empty threat doing nothing to prevent Villain from ripping the mask off.
"You-" Villain was awestruck, for some odd reason.
"...is there something on my face?"
"No. Absolutely not. You're ugly." Villain is in denial.
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