originallyvivid

[originallyvivid]

— Gaia

Gaia, mother of all,

I shall sing, the strong foundation, the oldest one. She feeds everything in the world. Whoever walks upon her scared ground or moves through the sea or flies in the air, it is she who nourishes them from her treasure-store. Queen of Earth, through you beautiful children, beautiful harvests, come. It is you who give life to mortals and who take life away. Blessed is the one you honour with a willing heart. He who has this has everything.

(The Homeric Hymns: Hymn to Gaia, Mother of All, 30.1-10)

A Ruan Mei fanfic I wrote on less than 6 hours of sleep. Can you tell? I can't. Maybe it's a you problem. /j

Warnings:

English is not my first language

There's a bit of a graphic scene, two if mentions of bones breaking bother you

This was posted on mobile and I'm not used to posting on Tumblr, sorry if the formatting is wonky

Tags:

No romance

Aeon Ruan Mei (Sort of an OC, but is it really?)

Schizophrenia implications

Features Nous but They die :(

I don't think this is scary but someone may do so

Ruan Mei is kinda insane

This was also posted on AO3

Sickening. Its indifference was absolutely sickening.

Did it not care at all? Had her efforts been in vain? Was she doing something wrong? Was all she had sacrificed, the years she spent doing the impossible for her research just pointless?

Many members of the Genius Society thought she was just a bit crazy. Maybe she was, or maybe she wasn't, there was no way for her to know.

Ignorance.

She hated it. She despised not knowing—and Nous Themselves had acknowledged it. So why was it? Why? Why?

No answer.

She was going insane. Her anger was not directed towards any Aeon, but towards the Universe Itself. It was mocking her, she was sure of it. She could just picture whatever—or whoever—was pulling the strings of this shitty puppet show laughing at her face, saying:

"Pathetic specimen. As a human, thy fate is to perish. Why would the mere idea of Godhood ever cross thy mind? How ridiculous."

Ridiculous? Ridiculous?

Sometimes, she could hear It. It made her skin crawl, and she felt like banging her head against her desk until her skull cracked open and her brains spilled out. But maybe then someone would find her, mushed brain mixed with blood dripping from the edges of the cold furniture, and they'd display her cold cadaver in a hall of fame—because they were a bunch of sick fucks. Her inscription would say something like 'Ruan Mei, Genius Society Member #81. Lived and died a human.'

Human.

She would have to watch from behind the glass as other members continued her research. Maybe one of them would make it, and she'd have to watch as someone else ascended to Aeonhood instead of her.

When she thought about it, she really did feel pathetic.

The Universe talked to her through her dreams whenever she spent more than forty-eight hours awake. It would speak to her condescendingly, treating her as if she was unaware of something as obvious as the result of two plus two.

She considered the posibilities. Maybe The Elation had taken her as a stupid little test subject for one of Their "experiments", or maybe a Memokeeper was playing with her brain. Maybe it was a side effect from the Simulated Universe. Maybe. Maybe.

"Murder them."

She woke up, her breathing abnormally fast. Murder them? Murder... Them?

It was a sign. A sign from the Universe.

She just wasn't sure about how to do it, but she had an idea in mind.

168 hours.

A full week she spent awake, guided by Its voice on her ultimate creation, something that was sure to grant her a spot along the divine.

Her eyes were sore, her limbs about to give up on her, and yet she kept working. It was as if she had been possessed. No matter how much her fellow members tried reaching out, no matter how many threats Herta sent her way, she would not establish contact with any of them, and she would not reveal exactly what she was working on.

An embryo, which then became two. Fully lab-grown beings, made without neither an ovum nor a spermatozoon. She was not really sure as to why It was helping her, but she was too far gone to question Its intentions.

"Pandora."

She quickly understood—it was a name. The first embryo, supposed to grow into a female human, was named 'Pandora.'

The second—meant to be a male, as per Its command, was named 'Phaenon'.

On Sunday of that week, Ruan Mei left her laboratory for the first time in days. She found herself standing still, staring up at the sky.

Her gaze was not fixated on anything, the cold air blowing stronger with each passing minute.

Nevertheless, she could feel her body burning.

Something was happening to her.

Something was happening to her

S̴o̸m̸e̶t̸h̵i̴n̷g̸ ̷w̵a̴s̴ ̵h̴a̵p̴p̷e̷n̷i̵n̴g̴

s̶͖̩͉̓ ̷̦̉͌͝o̴̢̞͈͒m̴̦̗̙̅̓e̸̢̺̣̎̐ ̸̮̦́t̶̖͚̆̐h̵̟̫̊̉ ̵͇̅̎ì̶̥̩̓n̷̪̞͆ ̸̖̲̆g̶͙̠͍̾ ̷̛͈̖̲̐w̵̢̥͂͝͝ȁ̵̙̼̄ ̵̫̬̼́s̷͉̫̏ ̶̝̞̻̾̿ḣ̶̥͍̹a̸͓̐́p̸̛̤̙ ̸̬͕͑e̴͔͛͆n̸͎̗̉̈́ ̶̧́̋̇i̸̹͊ ̵͚̔n̷͖̤̐̉̚͜ ̶̗͌g̴̦̗̀

s̷̛̛̱͓̩͙̙̳̘͍̭̼̝̠̝͚̳̙͚̪͍̙̀̾̈́̆̍̇̉̅͂̿͂̕͘͜͠͝ͅơ̵̜̠͔͙̱̜͗̉̑͌̐̾̂͗̂̂̀̇̐͗̍̽̎̇̓̆̓̀̈͒͐̆̑̀̚͝ ̴̡̨̢͇̝̯̠͚̫͇͙̞͕͖̲̯͉̘̥͓̖͑̉̍̀͋͌̒͘͘ͅͅm̸̨̟͈͈̖̹̠̰͑̓̓̔͆̉̈́͗͆̄͜m̷̢̤̭͔͇̞̼͕̻̱͍̙̼̮̥̜̺̣̪̩̱̦̙̘̦̉͐͊̉̏̐̽̏͛͂̊͋͑͘̕͜͠ͅm̷̛̫͎̭̤̯͈̺̜̭͇̱̦͖͙̭̝̲͓͙͕͕͈͍̖͔̼͙̀̈̄͐͋͆̍͂́͂̈́̐̌͗̌̽̄́͂͒́͠ ̸̧̢̫̠̟̙͇͉̘̬̫̠̞̪̱̻͙̦̖͎̰̭̞̱̪̗͆̈́̈͊̏͛̓̂̄̈̐͘͠͝ͅͅę̸̨̡̧̲̫͇̣̞̝̖̤̗̙͕̜͉̲̮̭͙̦̬̭͔̠̫͍͙͓̱̩̋̀͂̔̓͒̔̒̈́̐̄͛̉̏̃͆͋͌͒̔͛͗̉́̓͑͘̚͠͝͝͝ͅt̵̢̨͉̭̭͔̪̠̭̬̝̙̖̤̣̣̜͖͍̰̓̋̍̾̔́̿̌͊̃͛̽̈́̊͘͜͝ͅẖ̶̡̨̛̛͉̹̘̫̝̬͕̬̭̩͖͙̮̟̥̱̦̉̄͛̍͑́̓̈́̅̓̌̑͐̄̑̏̃̔̄̈́̈́͌̀̈̅̀͛̀͒̚͘͜͝͝ ̴̯͖̹̲͕͋̇̀̇͊̉́̊̈̃͊́̀̀̅̌̃̀̋͑̈́̅̌͆͑̕̚ͅī̷̧̱̱̮̤̼̣̼͂́͌n̴̨̹̘̳͍̞͈͙͉̮̞͍̺̼̪̱͚̳̤̾͐̽̃́̔́̆͛̈̀́̒͂͑̆͊͌̒͐̓̚̕͠ͅg̷̡̧̧̢̠̮̣͎͔̣̬̪̙̭͇͇̻͇̜͈͖̦̘̬͙̱̠̔̆̅̈́͗̀̃̌̑͂͘͝ͅͅ ̴̢̛̛͔͖͙̩̬̻̬͉͎̩̜̳͖͍̞̖̣̦̻̜̮̬̳̠̰͇̥̯̰͕̰̙̄̇̃͌̽̈͂̅̑͑̆͋͒̎͛́̐̍̐̇̉͑̔͛̿͛͋̃̌̚̚͜͝͠w̴̿̈́̇̏͑̈́̓̃͆̎͂̚��̨̨̢̨̪͔̝̼̘̖̩͍̮͎͉̦̙̤̠̤̼̜̤̟̪͖̥̱͖̩͖̞̋̽̎̏͋̈́̎̔̽̾̇̚̚͝ͅ ̶̨̮͙̺͈̼͇̤̮̻̞̬͇͓̘̬͍͕̹̲̙̖̀̀̈̑̀̐̌͆̍̄̽͆̈͋̓̒́̾̉́̈͐͒́̄̎̇͘͠a��͇̗̹̭̰̥̣͔͕̪̝̙̇̾̂̈̍̎͂̀̋̒̀̍̇͑͆͊͑̃͘̚͘͘s̵̡̢̢̹̞̹̭͎̠͇̼̩͍̼̲͕̜̈́̔̈́̑̑͛̾̒́̾̉̀̊͜ͅ ̷̡̨̨̘̳͚͎̙̘͖̭̭̹̯͍̣̯̮͔̩̳̙͚̘̟̙͚͖͔̪̣̥̋̿̒̀̊̆̀̑͊̀̓̆̒̈̏̔̏̀̀̈̂͊̃̈́̔̚ͅḧ̴̡̰̟͖͙͎̻̙͖͈̝̘͔͈̩̜̜̼͇̫͕͖̫̘̳̦̣̗́̏̎̏̒̈̃̔̄̏̀̔͋͆̊̔̊̿̈̈́̂̐̾̄̿̚̕ḥ̴̮̝͉͚̖̻̖̗̣͈͓̖͚̲̼̝̫̼̠̾́̌̿̋̋̈́̔̀̄̊̊̉̅̕͝͝ ̸̨̢̧̢̢̡͇̳̩̤̮̬̖̠̞̟͈͓̘͔̘̫͔̟̘̟̳̮̟̙̈́̿̾̂̍̿̍̅̀̌͗̅͛̉̽́̍́̎̇͌͑̂̈́͋͌͘͘͜͜͠á̸̡̢̢̨̟͇̹̱̣̹͕̙̬̜͍̥̦̤̻̪̮̺̞̯̗͖͒̓̓̊̿̓͆͛͐̈́͌̈́́̓̐́̉̉́̔͑͗͂͛͛̚̚̚͜͝ͅͅp̵̡̲̩̰͙̖̫͙̗̫̤͓̹͔̀̆͗ ̴̢̲̙̻̹͚̟̯͖͓̬̱̱̪̗̿̈́̀̒̑̈́͆̿̄̏̀̋͗͌̉̽͛ͅͅp̸̢̧̗̪̈́̆̀̍̃̕ę̵̡̜̗̮̼͚̺͙͕̝̟͕̖̗͈͇̉́̅̉̿̉̆͗̉̈́́̌̓̈͐̈́̚͜͠n̵̖͎̹̳̪͕̣͔̼̱̣̗͓͙̺̉̓͒̈́̈̕ì̴͕̠̼͈̥͂͊̌̊̑̌̔͑͑̂͊͊͂͐͑͌̌̔̓̇͌̌͑͊͛̀̕͘͝ ̸̻̫͙̥͖̩̼̹͕̜̳̜̪͍̃͑̾͒̅̆̏̑͗̀́̅͐͛̃̋͒̉͂̔͋̒̔̓́̋̂̈́̕̚̚̚͝͠ͅͅͅņ̵̛̪̺̳̜̪͕̝̰̤̙̐͛̑͐̏̑̎̄̚͜͝ǵ̸̨̢̥͙̹̖̣̗̹̣̯͓̰̻̱̟̼̟̖̠͚͈̬̜̘̪͗̈ͅͅ

 

.... . .-.. .--.

- .... .. ...

.. ...

-. --- -

.-- .... .- -

..

.-- .- -. - . -..

 

She was scared.

She could hear her limbs breaking, even if she felt no pain at all.

Her eyes were blinded by light, her ears blocking any other sound coming from her surroundings. She could feel herself becoming someone—something else. A transformation not only of physical dimensions, but of her soul.

When Their vision came back, They found Themselves somewhere in the infinite cosmos. Looking into a water-filled planet, They winced upon seeing Their reflection.

Who had once been a young woman, follower of The Erudition, had now become an amalgamation of eyes, robes, manuscripts and blood, tainting the otherwise white fabric hanging from its "body"—if it could even be called that.

Upon ascending, They remembered the Universe's instructions.

"Murder them." "Murder Them."

With a single thought, Nous was summoned, the sight of Them almost making the other shiver after being used to only ever seeing Them in a simulation.

"01000011 01101000 01101001 01101100 01100100 00101100 00100000 01110111 01101000 01111001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01100011 01101001 01100100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100101 01110100 01110010 01100001 01111001 00100000 01101101 01100101 00111111"

"I am not your child. You will fall before me, for I am the one who deserves to take your place in the cosmos."

"01010111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01100001 01110010 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110101 00111111 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100100 01101111 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100011 01101111 01100111 01101110 01101001 01111010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01100101 00101110"

"Who am I? Who? Who... am I?" The young Aeon spiraled into a nonsensical rage at the proposal of this simple, rethoric question. "I am Gaia. I am They who will reign over your devotees after your death."

The newly forged path consumed The Erudition in the blink of an eye. Its followers were left to either bow down to their new sovereign of wander the galaxy alone, like a dog whose owner had been murdered.

Gaia The Creation.

One by one, Their memories started to fade away. Soon enough, all that's left will be a God, one who always wishes to be more.

The Abundance will be next.

The Abundance will be next.

T̴̛̛̰̝̥̩̝͍̣̠̳̣͔̼̺̯̘̞̭̹͓͚͓̩̫͇̗̞͉̯̆̍̓̓̆̐͊̽̊̾́̔̿̈͐͛́̄̏͆̐͂̀͘̚͜͜͝͠ͅḩ̷̨̡̨̢̻̹͔͎͍̖̩͇̞̼̠̝̞̦͎̲̩͇̩̱͖̥͉̳̙͔̝̊̓̇͑̓̔̅͘͜͠͝ề̶̯͎͚̯̼̞̞̠̳̓͆͌̅̊͑͂͌̋̈̋́͒̈͗̾̚͘͝ ̴̡̧̗̬̣̗̺͎̫̖̞̪̞̱̺̟͈̼̰̫͖̳̪̰̣̫̜̰̖̀̋͜A̷̧̹̦͍̯̯̗̫̰̩̥̩͔̖͉͍̬̔̈́̋̽́̈́̒͒̒͌̆̈́̋̊̅͒͐̅̓̌̓̂͋͒̂̆̌̀͘̕͘͜͠͝͝b̷̡̰̩̺̬̠͓͔̠̤̟͔́͋̇̒̋͜͜͜ų̶̬̯̦͖͓̪̰̼̽͊̐n̵̢̨̝̜̯̺̫͔̭̖̿̄͊́̾̉̇̀͌͊̍̾̆̿͒̍͆̈́̌́͋̀̚͜͝ḑ̶̨̦͚̠̣̜̩͉̉̋̎̋͆̚͜ą̴̡̠͉̟̞̯̙̲̫̠̹͓̠͎̟̯͈͚̹̫̘̺̼̦͉͐̎̾̈̔͂̀̓͆̓̽̾͐̈̾͑̈́͛͜͝ͅͅṇ̶̲͑̄͋̀͑͆̌̌̇̒͒̉̽̒͒̃͒̄͋͗͑̐̓̎̋̀̓͂͛̕̚̕c̵̨̛͇̜̘͓̝̖̬̲̪̻̭̭͎̪̣̹͚͉̱͎̥̬̮̟̺͍̀̇̄̅͂͑̄̄̽͛͑͊̃͘͝ę̸̢̧̡͔̘͕̝͖̼̣̟̪̺͎̪̙̫̠͖̺͖̝͙̫͙͖̐̆͛̊̓̆̒͘͜ͅ ̴̛̛̟̺̟̜̗̘̝̱͖͖͙͈͈̹̻̣͂͋̌̋͐̽͒̌͂̆̐̎͂͐̅̌͐̅̈́̊͗̈́̊͛̄́̒̚̕͘͘͜͠w̵͚͓͓̗͈̮͐̂i̶̤̙̹͙͕͖̤͙̼͙̱͕͌͒́̋̿̀̐̄̎̉̽̀́̊͋̈̈́̓̂͐͛̾͐͛̐̇̿̏̿̑͘̚͜͝��̡̡̲̪̬̮͚̠̱̖̠͓l̸̛̤̬̰̮͈̬͇̋̐̀͑̉̐͒ḷ̷̨̡̨̡̠͚̞̼̯̪̱̮͈͚͈̺̬͖̜̟̪̑́́͆̓̈̈́̕͜ͅ ̷̢̨̡͈͔͍͈͓̤̩͚̗̳̟͙̰̺͇͎̦̹̰̫̼̫͙͉͐̈́̽͂̽̅͌̂͌̿̇̅̒̌͑̈́̂̉̈̈͊̏̕̚͝͠b̵͍̫̅̈́̒͑̓͂͑̈́́͋͠e̸̛͔̞͕͕͑̀̒̔̊̅̃́̅͗͋͘͠͝͝ ̸̨̰̘͈̳̲͓̟͚̭̬̺̻̟̬̪͑̐̎̑͐̈́̂̄̇͂̐͆̔̅̃̒̽̌̾̈́̇͌͒͘n̸̢̡͍͚͕̦̝̺͈͉̗̮̬̲̰̲̦̤̍̐̒̔̒͘ȇ̴̡̡̛̺̬̞͚̬͈̪̲̺̱̲͚̱̗̫̮̦͎̖̭̺̃̈́̆͐͑͐̏̅̀̂͑͋͑͛͛̑̆͘͜͝ͅͅx̴͖̞͛̇̒̅̉͜ẗ̷̡̛̬̹͍́̃͋̍̽͌̔́͒͒̍̿͠

R̶̢̙͓͕͍͎̭͍̬̹̪̝̠̼̝͔̤̠͉͔̣̮̥̺͙̲͖͈̜̦̅͋͒ͅͅú̵̧̧̢̨̧̢̬͕̝͎̹͈̲̟̯̗̹͕̹̝̤̞͈̜̠͚̳̜̻͇͎̟̭͉̞̦̝̯̠̭̭̪͈̙̳̳̝̿̊͆͐́̂́̀̌̊̀͆̚̕͝ͅą̶̹̗̙͇̦̱̗̣̟̮͕͊͆̈́̽́̈́́͆̀̇̄̀̋̓͂̏̊̈́̈́͒̉̊̾̽̈͛̈́̎͊́͊͑͠͝n̶̛̜̩̯͈̣̱̫͓̭̣͔̻̭̭͖̳̹̖͕̈́̔̐͂̈́̿͑̌̏̊̔͑̆̋̂ ̸̢̧̢̨̛͚͖̟͔̥̙̗̦̪̘̣̼͈͎̫̪̜͈̤̭̯̰̪͓͎͍̻̘̫̣̟̦̟̩̥̗̪̀̓͂̔̀͆͒̿͌̐̓̋̉̈́̆̈́͊͌̅̿̓̉̆̅͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝M̷̡̡̡̛̫̀͌͒̌̐̉̈́ͅȅ̶̡̗͎̤̣͎̘̺̲̋̈͂͛͆͂̒͗̑̍̈̿̅̕̚͘͝ḯ̸̞̟̘̺͕̻̼̈́̓̈̾͂̄̿́͊͐̔̒̔̋̀́̓̕͜͠͝ͅ ̸̡̧̡͎̬̪̤͎̮̙̳̗̖̮͙͖̪̗͙̲͔͓̅͂̌̈́͆̈́́͗̂̈́͗̓̀̅̾̍͘͝ͅī̷̡̧͎̭̰̖̦̭̦͚͖͕̘̺̼̫̖̬̥̣̇͛̈̀͆̿͐̓̋̀̿̌͊̒̒̏̋͑̿͘͘͝͝ŝ̶͓̭̣͕̹̲̩̫̣̥̥͕̯̞̓̆̒̄̐̈́̄́̿̓̓͝ͅ ̸̧̢̡̢̧̛͉̗̻͇͚̻̩̜͚͕͈̯̟̠̤͕̘̩̳̩͍̪̘͙̼̖̠̜͓͙̜̮̖̠̱̖̅̑͋͋̊͆̎̈̈́̈́̎̌͋̇͘̕͜͜ͅͅͅg̴̭͉̻̗̦̉ǫ̶̨̢̭̳̗͍̠̘̬̝̖̙̗͖̥̝̫̭̱̲̤̼̰̥̳̟̳̺͔̫̱̥̌̽̑̋́̌͑͂̈́̅̈́̎͛̓͊̈́̊̍̉̓̈̿́̃͊͌̿̐̉̊̽͛͂͛̚̚͘̚͜͠͠͝͝ņ̵͐̀͗̾̀̆̋̑͗̐̋̑̒̈́̅̅̾͆͌̄͂̀̀̓̂̂̓̓̄́͊͊̎́̕̚͘͝͝͝͝͝͠ȩ̴̢̼̖͉̰̙̪̺̰̝̱̟͔̫̹̺̫̪̫̲͎͕͇̥̭̠̭̻̜̞̝̯̦̿̅̎͋͛͋̊͑́̆̎̆̊̄̐̅͋̋̈́͑̓̈̀̔̊̏͋̇͐̆̇͒̈́͛͋͛̅̋́̓͑̔̚͜͜͜͠͠͠͝.