#dottore's segments

[fathomless-flames]

I need to add more to this ref sheet but I'm too impatient about posting stuff lol.

My Dottosegment OC, Mu!

Lives in a tundra-based research station and keeps an eye on the local ecosystem.

Drinks hot chocolate with water.

Keeps loose seeds and sweets in the same pockets.

Favourite sweets are flavours like cinnamon, aniseed and chili.

His coat previously belonged to an older segment, hence why it's a bit big.

The crescent shaped scars on his face are from passing out and falling on top of a mug.

Suffers from muscular atrophy and weak lungs after falling into a two week long coma.

Has a cryo vision replacing his earring.

Dottore's 13 year old self.

I write about him in my fanfic, A Guide To The Plant Life Of Teyvat on AO3.

[daturabouquet]

Dottore has many clones to assist him in his work, and you can barely tell them apart (except from the super obvious ones). Sometimes you figure out which segment is which by their physical build, the older ones tend to have broader shoulders compared to the younger ones. Theta (older) and Omega (younger) look very much alike, same mask design and all, only thing that differentiates them is their overall build, and their personalities differ; Theta is warm but Omega is rather snappy.

One time you wanted to ask a segment about dinner choices, but you didn't want a fight... the only segment you see in your line of sight was either Theta or Omega.

So you grab a measuring tape, approach him, and measure his shoulders to find out which one he is, it turned out to be Theta, so you struck up the conversation.

you can say Theta was very visibly puzzled.

"(name)... Why did you just measure my shoulders?"

"To... differentiate you and Omega?"

"You pay attention to our... measurements?"

"Yes...?"

"You're much more of a creep than I thought."

[phoenixblaze1412]

may i request a gn!reader being freaky with the older segments for fun and to just tease em while they’re working in the lab. Like leaving touches (caressing their faces, tracing a hand down on their chests, etc.) leaving em kisses on the neck, etc. Then just leaving them with blue balls

and one day reader gets cornered by all of em and spicy shit happens uhhh yeah

It started as a game.

You were bored.

They were brilliant—always busy with their experiments, immersed in data, ignoring your presence for hours on end.

So, naturally, you decided to interrupt.

You started with Gamma.

He was hunched over a microscope, muttering to himself. You leaned in and let your fingers brush down the back of his neck, tracing the veins beneath his skin. He stiffened immediately.

“You're tense,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “You should take a break, Gamma.��

He didn’t respond—not with words. Just a sharp inhale and a faint twitch below the belt.

You smiled.

Then Theta, you traced your fingertips over his chest as he reviewed surgical notes. “Does your heart ever race in that cold body?” you murmured, letting your tongue flick over his neck before walking away.

Omega tried to ignore the kiss you left on his jaw. He clenched the table, growled your name lowly, but didn’t move.

Delta snapped a pencil in his hand when you straddled the stool behind him and massaged his shoulders, letting your breath ghost down the back of his neck.

Then you walked out of the lab.

Like nothing happened.

Like you didn’t just awaken every feral instinct in four dangerous minds.

Hours passed. They said nothing. You began to think you got away with it.

Until the lights dimmed in your wing of the lab.

Until the door locked behind you.

Until four very pissed-off Segments cornered you in the dark.

Gamma was the first to grab you, slamming you against the wall, lips crashing into yours with fevered anger.

“You think we’re toys, firecracker?” he growled, grinding into your thigh. “You thought we wouldn’t make you pay?”

“Made us walk around thinking about you for hours,” Theta hissed, sliding behind you, pinning your arms back. “Now you get to be our lab rat.”

Omega and Delta circled in like sharks. Omega’s gloves were off. Delta’s shirt was unbuttoned.

“You’ll be sore for days,” Delta purred.

“Beg now,” Omega demanded. “Before we take it.”

You were already aching, but you smirked, defiant.

“Make me.”

They did.

———

They stripped you fast, leaving you exposed on a lab table, restraints locking your wrists over your head. Cold metal beneath your back, four mouths on you at once.

Theta left bite marks down your chest.

Gamma sucked bruises onto your thighs.

Omega slipped two slick fingers inside you, curling expertly while Delta whispered: “You're ours now.”

And then?

They denied you.

Over and over.

Teased to the edge. Again. And again.

Every time you begged, they laughed.

“Not yet.”

“You wanted this.”

“You don’t get to finish until we do.”

.

.

Finally, they gave it to you.

Delta pinned your hips, his length thick, ruthless, ramming into you deep while he growled filth into your ear. “Tight little tease, gonna break you open.”

Gamma grabbed your throat and let out a small coo at how you're taking the others well while thrusting into your mouth, using your tongue to vent his built-up frustration.

Theta held your legs open, letting everyone watch your hole stretch, your body twitching as you finally came..only to be flipped and taken again.

Omega rutted inside you. His release hot, punishing, enough to make you sob. “Now you’re marked. Claimed."

Each Segment took their turn.

And then again.

And again.

You were drooling, trembling, belly full, body twitching from overstimulation.

They didn’t unbind you right away.

They just stroked you gently, whispered in your ears, kissed your bruises.

“Next time,” Gamma purred, “we do it in the main lab.”

“Let’s see how loud you scream during dissection lectures,” Theta teased.

“You’re not walking tomorrow,” Delta smirked, kissing your temple.

Omega simply looked down at your cum-streaked, shaking form and said:

“Touch me during a test again… and we’ll breed you on the exam table.”

[elchingay]

The last thing you see 👁️👁️💉

[rockingbytheseaside]

I just read 'a boy named heretic' and it was really great cuz I can see little zandik being obsessed of his favourite researchers. And Imagine after creating his segments, little segments being so obsessed with you that they start their days with reading your researchs or treating your researchs like a religious book maybe even the older segments still do that. they would have memorised everything by now and that would be so funny like little segments make a mistake when they are talking about your researchs and older ones go like 'no no it goes like this and this' I can definitely see that happening.

Thank you for reading my brainrot over your fic and even though i just discovered you I love your writing style and your art is amazing so thank you for blessing us

Thank you so much! I try to write fics and tropes because I also struggle with Harbinger brainrot. Sometimes I draw and sometimes I gotta write. So I hope I won't disappoint with this one (｡•́︿•̀｡)

✦ You learn that Dottore taught his little segment about your old research too

(tw: none, pure fluff)

In the days of old, a young boy named Zandik was infatuated by you.

You were there, in the photos of the Akademiya’s best, A brilliant alumna. Meanwhile, he was still a mere student, looking up at you with eager ruby eyes. The distance between you two, not just in seniority, but in intellect and knowledge looked like an insurmountable ocean for little Zandik. 

He read all your published works, theses, or even miscellaneous essays. You were one of the few who dared to explore risque topics, often researching the fallen technology of your homeland, Khaenri’ah. Your works became his mantra, as the young trainee Dastur frequently stayed at night reading and memorizing your written words. 

How he longed to stand by your side. To bask in the glow of your wisdom, and hopefully, one day stand beside you in these photos of The Akademiya’s best. The thought of being your equal on that wall is a fantasy that once consumed him during many sleepless nights. 

But alas, his name was not in the records beside you. Instead, it was in the records of exiled students. 

The expulsion was a bitter pill to swallow for Zandik, yet it became a blessing in disguise. It allowed him to break free from the constraints of the Akademiya and truly delve into the depths of his research; to walk where you walked. With this liberating and newfound freedom, The Fatui heightened his abilities. They provided him with the resources and tools, and in return, he shared the fruits of his labor with them. But the Fatui were not the focus of his pursuits - you were. 

The little boy who once admired you from afar is no more. Now, a Fatui Harbinger stood before you, a man who has grown and shaped himself in your shadow. So here you were, in Dottore’s lab quietly musing. That was the story of your unceremonious reunion with The Doctor, whom you didn’t even know was after you. However, you didn’t mind it. You even met one of his many segments. 

What you didn’t expect is… a little child in his lab. 

A boy, looking awfully similar to little Zandik, no older than 8 years old. He gawked back at you, with his ruby-red eyes and you felt a sense of deja vu. You kneeled in front of him, catching a glimpse of a book in the child’s arms: 

“Um, hello, little one. What is that book you’re reading?”

The child cast his gaze to the floor timidly, revealing the worn-out book he was concealing behind his back. He held it tightly with his little hands, speaking in a small but avid voice:

“It’s your work… Your name is right here!” 

You blinked in surprise. It indeed had your name on it. The title was one of your research papers that you honestly forgot about. But what was even more surprising is why would an 8-year-old child read some old academic papers. 

“Oh, it is? But isn’t it a little… boring or difficult for you to read?” 

“No, I love it! I can even recite it if you want!” 

When Prime Dottore entered and spotted you talking to the eager younger clone he smirked. It seems you finally met his youngest segment, and your bafflement was expected. 

Dottore assured you that his segments, especially the younger Zandik, cannot contain their excitement at the mere mention of your name. They speak of you with a reverence that borders on idolatry, and they often ask Dottore about any copies of your published studies. 

It seems even the segments have inherited his admiration for you.

And the youngest segment, the 8-year-old child? They are absolutely enamored with your work. Every day, they ask about you and patiently anticipate any new information about your next visit to the lab. They even have a small collection of your books on their shelf, reading them diligently and trying to understand the complexity of your ideas. It was a bewildering sight, but the youngest segment enjoyed your academic essays as his bedtime stories.

“Dottore, listen. Did you make this boy memorize my thesis instead of reading fairy tales or something? Isn’t this a little… complicated for a child?” - you asked, picking up the little segment into your arms. 

“Nonsense my dear. Instead of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, a prodigy must start early by instilling a desire for knowledge. You can test it for yourself.” - Dottore explained, turning to the young child - “Recite the passage about energy infusion, paragraph 2.” 

“Okay! Ahem… ‘In the realm of Khaenri'ahn technology, we find a profound example of the interconnectedness between opposites. The use of advanced energy systems combines the power of light and electricity and as according to the data numbers of…”

Oh boy. These are big words for an 8-year-old. You don’t even remember the exact words of your 400-year-old thesis; that thing is ancient! You didn’t have the heart to tell them both that this thesis was written during an all-nighter rush. You did not feel nostalgic remembering your stress over deadlines. 

“Little one?” - You smiled at the boy in your arms and pointed at Dottore “Promise you won’t grow up like this big meanie here. He's annoying” 

“Heehee, okay!” - The tiny Zandik gently hugged your neck. The clone's innocent presence contrasts starkly with Il Dottore's imposing frown. What you failed to notice, however, was the young segment sticking his tongue out at Dottore's jealousy while you hugged the child unawarely. 

[ufo20010]

Finally the mutual understanding 💘

[poliodeuces]

stairway to heaven

—

edit: i don't know if it's just from my phone, or it's tumblr compression, but this looks unfortunately so so blurry. better quality on my twitter 💥

[chowsh]

Ahem.. What’s cooking good looking?😘

[blood-orange-juice]

So. Remember Dainsleif saying this about ruin guards?

We now know that Khaenri'ahns could create devices that could host the souls of the dead. I think I know how exactly they "resonated".

We've also seen Dottore making a ruinguardesque thing out of his assistant in the manga.

I think it's possible to make an educated guess about what ruin guards are.

[sneakysnekoden]

omegaverse

[reiayanamiisbestgirl]

Why are you bringing your tax fraud son to the soup store?

Pavel by @moicat

Theta by @wolfiafan10

[cookieandpumpkins]

Can you please draw y/n hugging dottore? I love your art sm!

He doesn't mind the affection, but he would prefer _ to not bother him while he is working XD

[phoenixblaze1412]

Hi ! Imagine baby Zandik, or even younger segments just treating you like their parent. Go seek you when they hurt their knees from falling, ask for help with homework older segments gave them or even just asking for a hug or you playing with them. Could I request that? Only if you feel like it ofc. (Sorry if my spelling or sentence are weird, English isn't my first language)

The child was small—smaller than the other Segments, his frame frail from having been created not for war or science, but something… softer.

Dottore never said what he intended him to be. Perhaps even he didn’t know. But to you, the answer had been obvious the moment you saw him.

He was just a child.

And children deserved to be loved.

—————

"Look! Look!"

The tiny Segment tugged at your sleeve, bright eyes shining with excitement as he held up a torn page from an old book. "I drew this!"

You smiled, kneeling beside him to get a closer look. The paper was rough at the edges, a relic of one of Dottore’s discarded documents, but the scribbles covering it were bright and full of life. A mess of crayon strokes, clumsy yet full of meaning.

It was a sketch—of you.

"Is that me?" you asked, pointing at the smiling figure.

The child beamed, nodding eagerly. "And that’s me! And that’s—" he hesitated, lowering his voice. "That’s Father."

You followed his gaze to the third figure—a towering presence in a long coat, standing slightly apart.

Dottore.

The sight made your chest ache. The child's depiction of him was not unkind, but there was something uncertain in the way he had drawn him. As if he did not know where he belonged in the picture.

"You did a wonderful job," you murmured, ruffling his hair.

He giggled, pressing closer to your warmth. "I wanna draw more!"

"Then we’ll draw as much as you want."

—————

Dottore was not a sentimental man. His creations were meant to serve a purpose—each carefully calculated, each a necessary piece of his grand design.

But this child…

This child defied logic.

He was not an instrument of war, nor a mind of scientific brilliance. They were small hands covered in crayon dust. They were tiny feet padding through the lab, their laughter foreign against the sterile air. They were the one Segment that did not bow at his feet, but instead reached up with open arms.

It was baffling.

"You spend too much time with them," Dottore remarked one evening, watching as you helped the child arrange his drawings into a messy pile.

You didn’t look up. "He's just a kid."

"He is a Segment," he corrected. "Not a child."

At that, you did look at him, lips pressing into a firm line.

"He can be both."

Dottore’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. He never appreciated being challenged. But before he could respond, a tiny voice interrupted.

"Father."

The small Segment approached hesitantly, holding up a fresh drawing. Their fingers curled slightly at the edges of the paper, uncertain. "I made this one for you."

For a moment, Dottore said nothing. His gaze flickered between you and the child, before finally taking the drawing.

It was simple. Three figures, hand in hand. The crayon lines were uneven, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

You. The child. And him.

Dottore exhaled slowly.

"...Hmph."

The child shifted, waiting for his reaction. When it didn’t come, they hesitated, then moved to your side, fingers grasping at your sleeve. You responded without hesitation, pulling them close.

Dottore watched. His hands curled slightly at his sides, the drawing still held between his fingers.

For all his intelligence, he didn’t know what to do with such a thing.

Later that night, as the lab grew quiet, you found the child curled up beside you, his tiny hands resting against your arm. Sleep had claimed him, his breath soft and steady.

Dottore stood by the doorway, watching.

"You let them cling to you like an attachment," he remarked, tone unreadable.

You exhaled softly, running a hand through the child’s hair. "If being loved is an attachment, then I don’t see the problem."

Dottore scoffed. "Love is not a necessity in my research."

You glanced at him, your gaze steady. "Maybe not in your research."

A pause.

Dottore said nothing. He only turned, his coat shifting as he left the room.

But in the dim light, forgotten on the desk, lay a single crumpled drawing.

Untouched. But not discarded.

—————

The nights were the hardest.

In the daylight, the child found distractions—doodling on scraps of paper, following you around the lab, tugging at the Segments’ coats until one of them indulged hisncuriosity. But at night, when the world was quiet and shadows stretched long across the floor, there was no escaping the fear.

It always began the same way. The shifting of blankets. A tiny, trembling breath. Then, the quiet sniffles, stifled as though the child feared making too much noise.

You stirred at the sound, blinking groggily before realizing what was happening. Without hesitation, you shifted towards him, already reaching out.

"Nightmares again?" you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

The child didn't answer right away. He only curled in on himself, small fingers gripping his blanket too tightly, his tiny shoulders shaking.

Gently, you pried their hands free and pulled them into your arms. He came willingly, burying his face in your shirt as if trying to disappear into your warmth.

"It’s alright," you murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles on their back. "I’m here."

His breath hitched. "It was dark," he whispered. "I couldn’t see you."

Your heart twisted painfully at the quiet admission.

The lab was often dimly lit, filled with the hum of machinery and the cold glow of alchemical solutions, but the dark of night was different. It was isolating, stretching on endlessly, swallowing up small, scared children who just wanted to be held.

You tightened your hold, pressing a soft kiss to his hair.

"I’m here," you repeated, firmer this time. "And I’ll always be here."

For a moment, he simply clung to you, his tiny body trembling against yours. You continued to hold him, running gentle fingers through his hair, humming quietly—a tune with no name, just something soft enough to keep them grounded.

Eventually, his grip loosened. His breathing slowed, steadied. The tension in their small limbs melted away, and warmth seeped into you as they relaxed completely.

Even in sleep, their fingers curled lightly against your shirt, as if making sure you wouldn't leave.

You pressed another kiss to their forehead and whispered a promise—one only they would hear, nestled safely in your arms.

"I won’t let you face that darkness alone."

—————

Dottore found you both in the garden.

The child was curled up in your lap, clutching a small, broken machine—one of his old prototypes. Their fingers worked clumsily, trying to fix it while you guided their hands, voice patient and warm.

Dottore didn’t speak right away.

For the longest time, he simply watched.

The way you held the child with such care. The way their eyes shone with delight at your praise.

The way they trusted you so completely.

"You’ve grown attached," he finally said.

You didn’t look up. "They deserve kindness."

Dottore hummed, stepping closer. The child noticed him then, eyes lighting up as they scrambled to their feet.

"Father! Look what we fixed!"

He held up the machine, wobbling slightly in their eagerness.

Dottore took it, examining their work with an unreadable expression. Then, after a long pause—

"Acceptable," he muttered.

The child grinned, turning to you with wide eyes. "Did you hear that?! He said it’s acceptable!"

You laughed, ruffling their hair. "See? I told you you were brilliant."

Dottore exhaled, shaking his head. "You’ve made them insufferable."

"And you love them anyway," you replied easily.

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he placed a hand on the child’s head—gentle, brief, but unmistakably fond.

The child beamed, practically glowing under his touch.

And in that moment, even Dottore couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Life in the lab remained the same—filled with research, experiments, and the constant hum of machinery. But in the quiet moments, the ones that existed outside the rush of work and duty, a softer reality had settled into place.

The child was a constant presence, trailing after you or one of the Segments, always eager to learn, to build, to understand the world in their own way. And though Dottore rarely voiced his approval, he was always watching.

One evening, you found him in his study, reviewing reports, when a familiar weight settled against his side. The child had climbed onto his chair, pressing against him with a sleepy murmur.

Dottore tensed for a moment before sighing, setting his work aside. "You're supposed to be asleep."

The child yawned, clinging to his sleeve. "Was waiting for you."

His fingers twitched. After a long moment, he hesitantly rested his hand on their back. The child hummed contentedly, shifting closer.

From the doorway, you watched with a small smile, not saying a word.

Some things didn’t need to be spoken aloud. And for all his denials, for all his exasperated sighs and muttered complaints, Dottore never once pushed the child away.

[elchingay]

Little one comes to complain

[moicat]

Forgot I had this in drafts, this is segment Alpha but itty bitty

[fatuismooches]

Although I still haven't really worked out the logic of Dottore and the segments' hive-mind thingy, the thought of it is pretty funny, mostly when you think about it for (accidental) snitching purposes.

The segments, being as engrossed in their research and work as they are, still sometimes succumb to their desires and temporarily leave (not ditch, they insist) to find you. For what is obvious - cuddles, kisses, praises - nothing new. The only problem is that sometimes they get so comfy in your embrace that their minds relax a lot, which is usually a good thing, but then they happen to soften a bit too much. Meaning some... awkward thoughts get accidentally swept into the hive-mind and therefore the minds of the other segments.

"I hate how you always know what to do."

"...?"

"Were they always this warm?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can you stop chattering? I'm in the middle of something important."

"How can their hands be so gentle? Mhm, that feels good."

"... 'Their hands'? Wait, are you with [Name] right now?"

"Excuse me? I thought you said you were finishing compiling the data I asked for ages ago."

"Why are you with them when we agreed to let them rest? Who said you could hog their attention?"

Of course, you can guess how situations like these end up going. Usually with the segment who slipped up, completely ignoring the barrage of thoughts once he's realized he's aired out those embarrassing thoughts. Prime being exasperated and Omega wishing he could make them all disappear.