as an adult, some adults really aren’t mature enough to separate fiction from reality or understand the basic concepts of fiction not necessarily reflecting someone’s real life moral compass and it’s embarrassing. how are you a grown adult and still acting like a mean girl who bullies real people for the sake of fictional characters and feelings morally superior
i hate that when you try and look up shit for writing purposes it starts linking suicide hotlines and addiction advice articles like bro i just wanna know the information im not killing myself i promise. now tell me what i wanna know
The trouble with chasing after recs for fucked up media is that a lot of allegedly fucked up media is enamoured with the idea of being fucked up, but it's not actually fucked up about anything. The form is there, but not the substance. However, there's no way to communicate this to anyone who doesn't already Get It without sounding like a maniac.
anyways here's i guess a finale to my dottore one shots. i might compile them and stick em on ao3 soon
edit: originally titled One Last Test
dottore x reader, 6.6 light spoilers for zandik's backstory. cw: one swear word
It is 45 who steps away from the table first. 35 is amused by it, 25 less so, but it is 8 who says, "Off to spread the word?"
"Of course," 45 says. "We'll finally be able to answer yet another of our burning questions."
It sends a tizzy through the lab.
"I still think it won't matter," 18 mutters as the older segment slips by.
8 rocks on his feet. gripping the edge of the table for support. "Why not? They were the only one who actually kept up with our research."
"Which is precisesly why they won't react when they hear the news. They'd understand." 18 adjusts his mask and nods towards 25, who's still cleaning the scalpel in his hand. "You agree, don't you?"
"Of course," 25 hums. "They weren't exactly reticent when it came to their feelings towards him."
"Vitriol fueled by hormones and academic rivalry," 35 adds with amusement. He eyes his youngest self, whose wide, innocent eyes belie his depravity. It still makes him chuckle. "You'll understand when you're older."
8 frowns behind his mask and turns to the eldest segment. "What do you think, then?"
65 tilts his head, light reflecting off the red lenses of his mask. Age never begets wisdom, they all know that, but 65 was still the one created with the most of Zandik's memories. He would be the best segment by which to base off the original Zandik's feelings.
Unfortunately, they all know that too many variables have been introduced to really be a control, but still.
"They knew Zandik well enough," is his answer eventually. "If they didn't, he wouldn't have bothered to keep that ridiculous machine for so long."
"The old man is sentimental," 35 sneers.
"He was desperate," 18 adds.
65 just pounds his cane against the floor. "And now he's dead."
Rattling draws their attention, 45 returning with a small, mechanical beast in hand. Its one eye flashes as it snaps its beak, and the lab falls impressively silent as your voice filters through the speaker.
"Let me see him."
And despite their earlier protests, it is 18 and 25 who move first. 35 is tempted to protest, just out of habit, but 45 is already handing the machine to its creator as 8 uses the step stool to give you a better angle.
"…Oh, Zandik," you sigh. "You've finally fucking kicked it."
"Finally?" 8 echoes.
"You sound eager," 25 muses.
"Do not talk to me about eagerness, 25." The mechanical creature flutters its wings. "Not when rigor mortis hasn't set in yet."
35 snorts while 8 gently sets you on the table. The cobbled creation had been another experiment by the youngest segment, started suspiciously around when your birthday had been. You still don't have the strength to puppet it fully, but you still hobble around the table with a keen eye until you reach the other side of the body.
"…How strange." Your head jerkily twists and turns to take in the fresh cadaver. "He spoke so much of immortality and…eternity, and now he's just…"
"Dead?" 8 finishes for you. When you nod, he gestures to the other segments gathered at the table. "But we're still here."
"And I think you'd agree if I say that none of you are truly him."
The words are sharp and biting, and the youngest segment almost seems chastised before 18 clears his throat. "Quite defensive for someone you've threatened to end yourself."
"You're only 18. You'll understand when you're older," you say, though the tone is less demeaning than he would have prefered. It makes 35's shoulders tremble with laughter.
"Enough." 65 picks you up, your mechanical body rattling as you sink into his arm. "We're wasting time chatting. Any final words before we continue?"
The lab falls quiet, each segment watching with bated breath. After all, it'd been a question haunting the poor scholar for some time, but its answer would provide no other use than to try and rekindle the compassion he lost as a child. And considering how far he got without it, Zandik had never seen any point in exploring it further.
And now Zandik is dead, and the rest of his segments are eager to hear.
Did you care? Did you consider him something worth mourning? Did you see him as an adversary? An ally? An equal, a friend, a lover?
Did you love him?
And will you miss him now that he's gone?
Your beak opens, mechanical body going still. A faint silhouette forms at the end of the table, ghostly and intangible. It still reaches to graze Zandik's pale hair, soothes his face twisted in agony into something more…human. It is a far gentler touch than the fist 18 remembers swinging into his face, and 35's amusement seems to fade into something pensive.
But 65 proves himself the wisest, because the apparition fades, your mechanical body shuddering to life with a gasp.
"No," you say. "I'd rather not waste your time. It's not often you get to dissect yourself, after all."
And then the mechanical bird goes still, and your warm presence fades with it.
The segments stir, 18 and 25 sharing a satisfied glance while 65 hands the bird back to 45. "See?" 18 says, voice rich with pride. "Nothing."
35 just tuts and plucks another scalpel off the tray. "Focus now," he chides. "The body's getting stiff."
dottore as count frollo. dottore singing hellfire. dottore whispering "Think of what I've offered you. What is your answer?" before he kills you. you see it right.
