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#the science of brain crumble
art-of-mathematics · 1 year
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More brain dough content!
now: nuclear pasta!
I love the creativity of those silly scientists - Quantum foam [termed by John A. Wheeler some decades ago] was just the beginning! Now come all sorts of nuclear pasta - nuclear gnocchi, spaghetti, waffles, lasagna... etc... Who said physics is not [f/y]ummy? [funny and/or yummy]
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your-daily-bread · 1 year
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certified breadstick brain post™
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(Bread)stick: There's a bread in my stick
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dawndelion-winery · 2 years
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"Would You Still Love Me"
"If I was a worm?"
Ft. Dottore, Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche
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Dottore:
"Of all the stupid things you could ask me..."
Stares judgementally at you, expecting you to revoke the question
Pinches the bridge if his nose and sighs when you don't
His scowl crumbles a little when you seem upset
"So you wouldn't love me if I suddenly turned into a worm."
Comes to the sudden realisation that if you're upset with him, you'll be less compliant...for science
C'mon, he's not gonna admit he's in it for the cuddles, not even in his head
Brings you a set of blueprints and a glass enclosure
"This is where you'd stay if you were a worm. I have three different design plans, so choose wisely because that's how your worm home will look for the rest of your life. You'll have a little worm car after four months if I haven't found a cure, however unlikely that is."
He will tell you all of his plans on what he'll do if you become a worm and you can't stop him because you started it
Your hypothetical worm situation is now fully prepared for, whether you like it or not
Wouldn't recommend because the diet he has planned for worm you doesn't look very appetising
Kazuha:
"You'd travel on my shoulder on in my pocket so I can share poetry with you."
Ruffles your hair and pinches your cheeks
If you swat him away he'll insist he was only checking if you were becoming a worm
Carries on like it was nothing after that
If you ask again he'll remind you that he'll love you regardless of what form you take
This does, unfortunately, spark some odd terms of endearment
You are now his "precious worm", "beloved wormy", "sweet wriggly", "fleshy straw", etc
They get progressively worse
But he swears it's all affectionate
"I'd love you if you became a leaf."
"That wasn't the question-"
"Every leaf has it's own tune when you play it like a flute, I wonder what yours would be."
Xiao:
Stares at you for a good while
"Why would you ever be a worm?"
You don't need to elaborate, because he'll eventually sigh and give in, intertwining his fingers with yours as he assures you he would
Still confused on why you'd be a worm though
But rest assured you would be the safest worm in the whole of Teyvat because nothing can touch you so long as Xiao is taking care of you
You're his little wormy, and he'll carry you in his palm when he's high up so you can have a nice view
Always worried he might misplace you or accidentally step on you
You've given him intrusive thoughts and now he's worried about a hypothetical that may never happen
Scaramouche:
"Would you love me if you were a worm though?"
"Scara what-"
"How do we know your worm brain has the capacity to comprehend that you're in a committed relationship with me? There's no telling whether you'll find some new worm lover who can give you that wormy connection I can't."
He's going off about how a worm couldn't possibly have any lingering feelings for a person
Mildly offended at the implication you might expect him to become a worm for you to live your worm lives together
"Me? A worm? How could you even entertain such a thought?"
You didn't, he drew his own conclusions and started overthinking
This is clearly your way of hinting that you don't feel loved enough to trust him (it's not, he is once again overthinking)
It has now been flipped on you to explain to him that you'd love him even if he became a worm because you'd adore him whether or not he loved you back
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oozedninjas · 3 months
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Imagine being friends with benefits with the bay turtles
Especially Donnie omg
I hate you. I was okay going about my day and you made me think of this T.T Fuck you. /affectionately (Bayverse / Donnie's 25-30)
Donnie + friends with benefits (goes wrong)
Having you as a friend is fantastic, and he enjoys the dynamic you've constructed with him as much as the attention to all his genius works.
You are his go-to whenever he is troubled or has blocks regarding where his current investigation should head.
Spending time with you is like a burst of color! You're the art to his science, the letters in his equations, the creativity to his precision.
When you say you reciprocate his feelings, Donatello slides into a state of euphoria. God, he's so drunkenly in love with you that this somehow doesn't feel real.
There must be a catch, a glitch in the matrix, some sort of-
"I'm not looking for anything serious, though. Can we just keep it casual, friends with benefits?" you suggest as if the weight of such an arrangement could be brushed off with a casual laugh.
Ah, that's it. That's the catch.
A disbelieving scoff escapes him, initially mistaking your words for a jest. The truth sinks in as you confirm your proposal, and Donnie agrees.
Of course, he does. He will be the cool guy for once. It's fine! He would be a chill, unfazed, never-sentimental friend with benefits!
He can do it!
Time starts running, and you don't stop seeing other people eventually, like some deep part of him hoped to. Shit. He cannot do it.
Oh, Gosh, what was he thinking?
His mind's exploding.
Yet, he manages to keep the mask on for about a month or two.
After that, the façade slowly crumbles as he finds himself tormented by the mental images his brain keeps bombarding him with.
And you're always embracing someone else. Kissing another heart, thriving in other arms, and Donatello can't take it.
A trickle of jealousy begins to drip from within, which initiates a series of arguments that never stop until one day, they reach a point of no return.
"Jesus, stop acting like you're my boyfriend! You're not."
That fuels something in him. Donatello doesn't know what exactly, but it forces him to ask: "Would you want me to be?"
Your response is hesitant, the expectant pause amplifying the tension. Your silence confirms what he knew to be the truth.
He scoffs. "Of course you wouldn't."
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deirdreskye · 1 year
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Commercial I would produce as an advertising executive:
We are treated to a succession of interviews with several different billionaires concerning their plans for the future.
"Humanity's destiny is in the stars," says the cool, young social media entrepreneur. "My new company will build a Mars colony in the next twenty years, and from there? The galaxy. The universe!"
"My next project is to render the human body obsolete," says the rideshare app CEO. "The mind-machine interface is no longer science fiction, it's reality. Soon, we will upload our minds to the cloud and live in virtual reality. Or as I call it, paradise!"
"We have forgotten God, and the traditional family values He has set out for us," says the aging, old-money oil man. "But my political contributions and policy think tanks will bring about an end to this age of sin and decadence!"
"Climate change is far from inevitable," says the real-estate mogul. "With my investments in green energy, we are only a technological breakthrough or two away from ending and reversing global climate change. As far as I'm concerned, the world has already been saved!"
Now we get to see how their plans turn out. A space ship drifts through oblivion and inside, all the lights are off. The social media entrepreneur is in his space suit, his lifeless eyes staring out into the void. It turns out his rocket ship was about as reliable as his electric cars.
Then we see the rideshare CEO. Or rather, his virtual avatar. He sits in the lotus position, meditating before a peaceful, pixelated field of grass. His eyes snap open. And then, he shrieks in agony. Back in the real world, his brain is in a jar, crisscrossed with wires and electrodes, suspended in fluid that is beginning to boil. The lab is on fire. Let's hope they fix this little glitch in the next patch.
The old-money oil man is long dead, of course, but his great-great-grandson lives on. We see him in the crumbling ruins of the Vatican, ritualistically sacrificing a lamb on a great pyre before the shit-smeared remains of the Pope's golden throne to the cheers of his tribe. An orgy breaks out to celebrate the occasion and we see the oil billionaire's progeny swallow a mouthful of the moon priestess' urine. "Thank you, daddy," he says, wiping his mouth. Now that's what I call "family values".
Finally, we see a field of shattered solar panels beneath a red sun, like so many broken windows in the sand in every direction as far as the eye can see. This place is not a place of honor. No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here. Nothing valued is here. What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us.
Sometimes, things just don't go the way you planned. When that happens, State Farm Insurance has you covered.
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venussaidso · 9 months
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Dark academia aesthetic can be directly associated with Ashwini .
Ashwini is ruled by the Ashwini Kumaras who are the physicians of the universe. Natives can be gifted with immense creative skills whether in medicine, science, art, mathematics. This nakshatra shows extreme brain power and the drive of the life force.
They can have the passion for knowledge, books; the drive to create, influence or make change in an industry or field. Despite being ruled by the chaotic shadow planet Ketu, they can develop pure laser focus and detach themselves from the world around them to silence the noise in their head. Although they may be plagued by constant noise and imagery in their mind. Natives can suffer from anxiety, panic attacks or extreme confusion. One detrimental thing about Ashwini is the need to chase things, their own desires can easily trap them if they do not overcome them. This applies to any human being, but what can be learned from this nakshatra is overcoming the ego. As it is Aries, ruled by the 1H (ego/identity). And ruled by Ketu, which crumbles the ego.
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Ashwini Moon Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes.
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Ashwini Moon Ben Barnes as Dorian Gray
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Ashwini Moon Alexis Bledel as Rory Gilmore
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Ashwini Sun Emma Watson as Hermione Granger
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hornsofash · 5 months
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Ok I had a thought during my drive in to work that I wanted to share... I might write down a deeper dive into this, idk, but here ya go.
"Crumble like a temple built from future daughters."
It's a line that I've always found interesting but could never quite identify what Vessel was trying to say. It's been on my mind for a while, but I just... couldn't think of what it could possibly be referencing. At first I was thinking it was some obscure history reference (which would explain why I didn't get it because I'm more of a science nerd), but I couldn't think of what. That's until I was driving in to work and, while listening to Telomeres (which I also have some thoughts about), I started thinking about DNA replication, which got my brain onto the cell cycle. The cell cycle is essentially a process in which one cell duplicates itself to create two identical cells.
What are those two identical cells called? Daughter cells. What do we often refer to our bodies as? Temples.
Let's go back to that line: "crumble like a temple built from future daughters."
We already know that the common interpretation of Atlantic is that it's about waking up in the hospital after an unsuccessful suicide attempt. An attempt to destroy the body, which is composed of trillions of cells that would, in the future, become daughter cells.
I dunno, just a thought.
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ckret2 · 4 months
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i wish to know about how you characterize amorphous shape. amorphous needs more attention. (same with the other henchmaniacs without lines, but i prefer focusing on the character my brain has decided i am.)
I characterize them as approximately 14~19 separate individual shapes from Bill's home dimension that got combined together into one hive mind. That's why I refer to Morph as "they"—I'm not using "they" as a gender-neutral pronoun, I'm using it as a plural pronoun, they are literally multiple people.
How they got combined into one body will get explored later in the fic so I'm not gonna spoil it; but it happened during the destruction of the second dimension.
The polygon parts of them weren't all squares to start out with, but after a trillion years they found that most of the time it's easier for them to simplify themselves into a form that tessellates tidily. They can shapeshift and separate though, so they can return to their original shapes when they want, like:
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(that's not literally the exact shapes they were, just concept art of what changing to their original shapes would look like.)
They're Bill's top scientists. Also, his only scientists. Not all of them were scientists, but when you've shared brains for a trillion years, you pick up each other's knowledge, and anyway over a dozen minds working on the same problem at the same time makes brainstorming faster. They're to blame for the interdimensional portal.
Any time Bill attempts to conquer a new dimension, he's gotta try to persuade the people inside that dimension to make him a portal; and in order to do that, he's got to pass those people portal blueprints; and in order to do that, he needs portal blueprints that both, a) work correctly in the physics of the dimension he's contacting, and b) can be built using the technology, natural resources, and construction techniques available to the natives. He wouldn't send portal blueprints that only work correctly with linear forward-moving time to the do-over dimension where spontaneous time loops randomly form, and he wouldn't send a design that can only be powered by nuclear fission to a culture that's barely discovered coal.
For a long time, Amorphous Shape were the guys Bill turned to for all those portal blueprint modifications. Any time he found a promising new dimension with a sufficiently gullible-looking species, he'd go in with Amorphous Shape so they could study local physics and technology and adapt the blueprints to fit local conditions.
By now, Bill & company have made SO many blueprints for SO many universes with SO many kinds of technology that when they find a new universe, they can typically tweak a design they already made rather than start from scratch; and Bill's been studying the blueprints for so long that now he thoroughly understands the science behind them and can draft & modify them himself, so he doesn't need Morph's help so much. He mainly consults with them to double-check the math before tossing the blueprints at a dreamer or to assist on really strange cases like that one dimension with a form of physics based entirely on the letter M.
Right now, Morph's bigger long-term scientific concern is the slow degradation of the Nightmare Realm and finding ways to help Bill shore up the crumbling reality; and implementing emergency quick fixes whenever something small falls apart, like a black hole threatening to destabilize the fabric of reality around several nebulas or knots tangling in wormholes because the ends are fraying.
If Bill is like the self-appointed god of the Nightmare Realm, Morph are something in between a demigod and a high priest: they don't have any reality-altering power themselves, but they do understand and influence reality far beyond any mere mortal and their petitions to the god to do this or fix that keeps local reality functioning.
Talking to them is like talking to a committee or a mob. Most of the things they say are collectively agreed-upon by the members of the hive mind, and so tend to have the careful precision of a department issuing a public statement rather than a regular conversation; but when something happens to get a majority of them mad, they get mad together and egg on each other's anger, and tend to immediately snap into confrontation rather than sit back until they calm down
They don't have a lot of hobbies they all share, so they tend to dabble in and drop a wide variety of hobbies rather than get really deeply invested in any. More likely to spend their spare time seeing what the other Henchmaniacs are doing and tag along on that than try to decide what to do on their own. Bad habit of just going back to work when they're bored since at least they can all agree that's productive.
They haven't gone on a date in billions of years and are not happy about this. They don't even have all the same sexualities, much less the same types. They need to go on a date with like a minimum four people simultaneously to balance out the fact that they'll be variously attracted to/repelled by any one singular date. Finding four people who cover their separate tastes and are all willing to go on a single date with "the same person" is pretty hard, especially when you're workaholics living with the most hated person in the multiverse and don't get out much.
Zealously, desperately loyal to Bill. They've spent a trillion years telling themselves that Bill's gonna rescue his devotees from the Nightmare Realm and claim a new dimension for them. By now it's become easier to pretend he's a flawlessly honest leader who'd never lie to them (unless he has a very good reason) than to grapple with his massive failings as a person and consider that maybe they made a mistake older than universes in following him. Any time one of their components starts to mentally doubt one of Bill's decisions, they're shouted back into conformity by the rest who are ready to offer justifications and explanations for anything he does. Can't do deep thinking on a difficult topic if you don't even have privacy in your own head.
If Bill ever wants to screw with them he can say "Morph, you're four of my best friends" and leave them going crazy trying to figure out which of their components he likes and why he doesn't like the rest. But Bill doesn't mess with the shapes much. Only if it's, like, really funny.
There used to be more surviving shapes in Bill's social circle, but over the eons they left one by one, until now it's just down to Morph, Kryptos, Hectorgon, and Bill; each time the shapes lost another member, it became harder for the remainders to consider leaving. Morph are no more capable of contemplating lives without Bill, Kryptos, and Hectorgon than you are of contemplating a life without bones. The feeling is mutual all around.
The rest of the Henchmaniacs could get fucked as far as they care.
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Ok I got a bit of a doozy. What if Leon was told his s/o was an umbrella scientist. But through telling him, they start breaking down because the research they did was SUPPOSED to go towards curing diseases and helping the world. Like they were doing research for good but it was essentially stolen from them and twisted to become something destructive. Once they found out their work was stolen, they left umbrella.
I’m a grad student working in a lab and I also have Leon brain rot lol.
OKAY OH MY. i wrote this on my break and i’m so sorry it’s so short i had like 5 different routes to take for this </3 i feel like it’s so bad
edited note:: i am for sure writing more of this when i get home.
Coming home from the longest day ever- you work with Rebecca and today specifically made your head hurt so bad.
When you walk into yours and Leon’s shared apartment it’s so dark, the sound of people talking being heard from Leon’s office, causing your eyebrows to raise as you put your purse and jacket on the hook. Noticing another jacket next to Leon’s?
You pushed your shoes off, walking down the hall to his dimly lit office pushing the door open. Claire and Chris?
You felt their eyes turn to you as you checked behind the door trying not to knock anything over. Leon didn’t even greet you, his stare empty and the same with Claire and Chris.
“What’s wrong?”
You asked as you shut the door behind you, noticing they had multiple open files all over Leon’s desk. Claire reached over pressing play on the tape recorder they had laid out.
“Day 17, this is professor (Your last name).. I can’t do it. And i can’t figure out why they want this virus so bad. I made them a vaccine and they have yet to give it back.. The T virus will cause mass destruction.. and I created it.”
Your face was white as a ghost, staring at the group, Leon’s hands digging through the paperwork. He looked so overwhelmed and it broke your heart.
“So what? You’ve been a lie this whole time? You’ve heard what me and Claire went through with Raccoon City yet you can sleep peacefully next to me knowing you caused it.”
Leon’s words made tears build in your eyes as you shook your head, you had nothing to say. Or at least it wasn’t coming out, you walked over to the desk digging through the files yourself and god they had so many. Every research you’ve ever taken part of, every vaccine you’ve helped create, everything. You took in a deep breath as you pulled the T virus file, laying it on top of all of the others.
“They took it from me. You heard it on the tape, you think I would’ve let them take it if i knew what they were creating? We have to create a virus, to make a vaccine. Oh come on you guys know how science works”
You rambled as you stared over at Chris and Claire.
“I wanted to tell you guys.. I left umbrella, after the events of Raccoon city, they threatened my life. And when I was finally ready to confront you guys.. they crumbled..”
Leon flipped through the files again shaking his head seeing your ID shots.
“You guys have to believe me.. They lied to most of their workers just like they lied to you guys, to the world.”
They didn’t seem to understand, or even care. Your heart rate sped up at the thought of Leon and Claire in Raccoon city, you felt the vomit creeping up your throat as you pushed your way passed the desk, running to the bathroom. You heard the sound of running down the hallway as you threw up into the toilet bowl, before feeling Leon’s fingers run against your neck to push hair behind your ears.
When you finished, you collapsed back into Leon’s arms, grabbing at him sobbing about how sorry you were. Leon nodded his head as he helped you stand, pulling at the toilet paper to wipe your face as he nodded.
“It’s okay, I believe you.”
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anexperimentallife · 6 months
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Are You There? Are You Safe? Is The Flock Safe?
(I'm posting the full text of some stories I've sold, but for which the rights have reverted to me. This is the second story I ever sold--an 800 word flash piece I wrote for Daily Science Fiction--and they bought it just in time for me to buy a needed prescription. It's not my usual style, but I'm proud of it, especially since none other than Cat Rambo said it made her cry.)
--
Even this close to the desert, the sun finds enough cloud on which to paint its retirement colors. Turner Bray sits beside an almost-dry stream under a Joshua tree while the oranges and yellows and reds and pinks fade into one another, and listens to the birds.
They are not Original birds, of course; the stores of avian DNA were among the many things damaged on the voyage here, centuries ago. They might look like Original birds, and hatch from eggs like Original birds, but they are partly carbon filament and nanotubes, and they grow tiny processors in their brains to guide them--with varying degrees of success--toward Original bird behavior.
This flock--Turner's flock--comprises both parakeets and cockatiels, as well as a mated pair of African Grays and an elderly Amazonian Parrot. Original Birds did not mix like this in the wild, and that is part of why Turner is here; to learn more about how these birds differ in behavior from Originals so that new designs can take into account the failures of the past.
As the light fades, the birds start up the evening chatter that binds them as a flock in much the same way it must have for Original birds. They speak in chirrups and sweels and little squawks that ask, "Are you there? Are you safe? Is The Flock safe?" And they answer each other, "I am here. I am safe. The Flock is safe."
To pass the days and weeks, Turner teaches himself to imitate the bird calls, becoming fluent enough to engage in their daily reassurances. Sometimes he spreads crumbled rations on the ground and calls out in their language, "Food! Food! There is food here!" After a while, most will eat tidbits directly from his hand, and after a longer while they seem to accept as one of them this wingless giant who speaks the language of the flock.
The birds have names for each other. They give Turner a name, as well--a simple, trailing squawk--and even contact-call to him when he moves out of sight. "Where are you? We can't see you! Are you safe?"
On the day of the snake attack, Turner is recording. Although he should simply observe, his first reaction is to raise the alarm. "Snake! Snake! Protect the chicks!" The snake is menacing the Grays' nest, but it is a little cockatiel--his real name is a lilting whistle, but Turner has dubbed him Geronimo for his bravery--who throws himself at the snake's eyes, protecting the chicks for the scant second it takes the rest of the flock to descend in a fury of beaks and claws and battering wings.
When the battle is done, Geronimo lays on his side on the ground flapping one wing and peeping feebly. The lump in Turner's throat surprises him, but more so the reaction of the flock. Original birds would have left Geronimo to die or--depending on the species--finished him off. But these birds form a protective circle around their fallen hero, and several of the smaller ones line up to press their beaks to Geronimo's to feed him the snake meat they've consumed.
They are not just different from Original birds, Turner thinks, but--as blasphemous as the idea may be in a world where terraforming has become a religion--better than Original birds. Yet, because they are not enough like Original birds, they will be phased out and replaced over the next five years.
For the first time since he was a small child, Turner weeps openly.
Years pass. Turner is an old man, now; too old for field research, many say, but he manages to acquire a grant, even so. His new study will take him to the edge of a different desert, far from the intentionally terraformed parts of the world, but to a place where Terran life has, nonetheless, taken hold. Most importantly, it will take him far away from the "civilization" he no longer wants to be a part of. The one that saw fit to destroy something beautiful simply because it was not what they had imagined it should be.
After setting up camp, he wheels the heavy cryogenic sample cases out of the back of his vehicle. Most biologists carry empty cases to the field and return with full ones, but Turner is doing the opposite. By the time anyone discovers what he has stolen it will be too late.
The first chicks hatch after a couple of weeks, and Turner speaks to them in the language of birds. "We are here. We are safe. The Flock is safe."
(Also, my health is failing, and I need to get back to the US where I can use my medical benefits if I'm going to live to see my daughter grow up. If you'd like to help, please see this post.)
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art-of-mathematics · 9 months
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The MOST IMPORTANT ambigram in existence!
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your-daily-bread · 9 months
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Motivationskrüstchen
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underfaller · 10 months
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When My Mother Was There
Summary:
“Zandik, dear, please remember to be kind. Promise me.”
These were his mother’s last words.
Or: why Zandik was chased out of his village
Word count: 1.7k
The day of his mother’s funeral will also be the day they chase him out. 
When they open her casket that cloudy, winter morning for the ceremony, the attendees will find themselves in a frenzy to see the body missing. 
He had dragged it back to the house. 
They shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.
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“Zandik, dear, please remember to be kind. Promise me.”
These were his mother’s last words.
Zandik now sits on the kitchen floor, staring at his mother’s lifeless body before him with a medical book in one hand and a small blade in another. It’s certainly not medical grade-- just something as similar as he could find rummaging through their kitchen drawers. Zandik reads the book, his brows furrowed in concentration. He’s young, but he easily comprehends what he is reading. He’s certainly inherited his mother’s brains. 
His mother was the most intelligent person Zandik knew. He’d heard the stories. She graduated top in her class from the Akademiya. She’d been considered a prodigy. Someone meant for greatness. Everyone thought she would easily become Sumeru City Hospital’s director or even Amurta’s sage. 
However, after becoming pregnant, she decided Sumeru City was too hectic to raise a child alone and his mother returned back to her hometown, resigning to the humble position of the village doctor.  
Zandik always felt guilty about that. 
But right now is no time for such thoughts. He must focus on the task at hand. It is only a matter of time before the villagers catch on. 
He looks at her closed eyes. 
They would open again. 
“I will bring you back to life, mother.” 
Zandik continues reading, examining the diagrams and notes his mother had scrawled in the margins years ago. He takes a deep breath, twirling the small blade in his even smaller fingers. This is not his first experiment on a corpse. Everyone knows to keep their pets away from the young boy. He’s surprisingly calm. He truly believes he can do this. Science was the answer to everything, was it not? Death is a contrived boundary that could easily be crossed. In hindsight, it is a futile dream-- but to a child in denial, it is a desperate mission that he cannot fail. He truly believes he can resurrect his mother. 
Something slips from the pages of the worn, medical book falling lazily to the floor below. Zandik picks it up. It’s a prayer sheet. He scowls, crumbling it up and stuffing it in his pocket. 
Zandik peeked into his mother’s bedroom. There were two older women standing beside her. He didn’t recognize them. They wore dark green Akademiya outfits and whispered to one another with worried looks. Zandik pressed his head towards the cracked door, trying to make out their words.
“It isn’t looking so good… her condition is deteriorating rapidly…” One said.
“What will happen to her son… no father…..” stated the other. 
“What are you talking about?”
The two women quickly turned around, startled by the boy now standing in the doorway. 
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” One of them hissed. 
“You woke me up.”
That was a lie. He’d barely slept the last two days. The bags under his eyes make him look like a small, disgruntled adult.  
They exchanged glances. One of the women walked over to him, bending to his height. 
“We’re from the Akademiya. We were tasked with caring for your mother. We were just talking about how we would pray for your mother’s health.”
Zandik tilted his head slightly, staring at her with piercing, red eyes. 
“Will praying help?”
“Of course.” The woman smiled. “Greater Lord Rukkhadevata does not let the innocent suffer.”
Zandik considered her words, before silently turning and exiting the room.
He entered his own bedroom and, for the first and only time in his life, the young boy got on his knees and prayed.
“Please save my mother.” 
As the village doctor, it only made sense that his mother would tend to the ill when the plague passed through their village. She’d worked tirelessly. It was simply her nature. She could not rest when she knew someone else was suffering. Leading up to her illness, Zandik rarely saw his mother because she was so busy rushing from house to house trying to help as many people as she could. When he did, her face was tear-stained from losing yet another patient. He'd peer through her cracked bedroom door but would not approach her, often quickly leaving, jumping back into bed with the covers over his head as he pretended to sleep. He did not like to see her cry. 
It was inevitable that she would become sick as well. 
But what wasn’t expected was how quickly she left.
How quickly things change. 
Zandik presses the blade against his mother's stiff chest, taking a deep breath. His hand slightly wavers.
What would she think of what he was doing?
Did it matter? 
This is for her.
It was a hot summer day. Zandik was reading at the kitchen table as his mother prepared lunch. Suddenly, a loud knocking broke the peaceful silence. 
His mother opened the door. 
It was their neighbor, Priya.
“Can I help-” 
His mother is interrupted by the furious woman. 
“Your son is a demon! A monster!” She screeched. 
Zandik was not well liked in the village. The other children avoided him like a ghost. The adults cursed him like a disease. 
“How could kind Veda have such a cursed child?” They’d mutter.
But his mother never saw him as a curse. She loved him. Cherished him. Accepted him.
That was all he needed.
“Please slow down. What happened?” His mother said. Her voice was so soothing. It was hard not to feel at least a bit calmer hearing her. Even Priya softens a bit.
“Ah Veda. It’s terrible. You know my cat, Mushy? He came in, howling like mad. I checked and saw someone had declawed him! Now who would do something like that? Your son, that’s who.”
“That’s quite an accusation, Priya.”
Priya rolled her eyes. “C’mon. Everyone in the village knows what he does with the animals around here. He’s the reason no one dares let out their cats now.”
His mother frowned and turned towards her son. 
“Zandik, come here.”
He burrowed his head in his book. 
“Now.”
He obliged. 
“Did you hurt Priya’s cat?” His mother asked in a stern voice. 
“I didn’t.”
He certainly did. 
“You’re a liar,” Priya scoffed 
Zandik narrowed his eyes, looking at the enraged woman with an annoyed expression. “Do you have proof?”
That set her off. 
“You fucking-” 
“Priya.” His mother interrupted her. She was certainly angry at Priya’s tone towards Zandik, her ruby eyes glinting dangerously in the afternoon sun. “I won’t allow you to speak to my child like that. I think you need to leave.”
“But-”
She shut the door. 
Zandik quietly tiptoed back to the kitchen. 
“Young man. We aren’t finished.” 
He turned towards a very annoyed mother. Her hands were on her hips as she approached  him. 
“Did you really hurt that cat?”
He did. 
Zandik shook his head.
“I promise.”
His mother sighed, bending in front of him and placing her hands lightly on his shoulders as she gazed into his eyes. Zandik looked back at her.
He has his mother’s eyes. 
“Zandik, life is such a precious thing. We should do all we can to preserve it.”
Zandik cocked his head. “Is that why you’re a doctor?”
She laughed lightly at his observation. “Of course.”
“I suppose I’d like to be a doctor too then.” 
“You’re very intelligent, darling. I know you will do great things. But in order to be a doctor, you must promise to not hurt other living things. Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
She smiled and kissed his forehead. 
“Then I cannot wait to see you become one.” 
When the village leader, the mortician, and their neighbor burst through the front door with a handful of other townspeople, they find the young boy elbow deep in his mother’s corpse. Zandik simply stares at the shocked and horrified group. He underestimated how quickly they would find him. Blood covers the kitchen floor. The smell is nauseating. 
Priya faints. 
They didn’t listen when he tried to explain what he was doing. That he wanted to bring her back. That he wanted to fix her. 
“That boy is a monster.”
“His own mother.”
“A devil.”
“A heretic.”
“Mother?” 
He laid in her lap as she stroked his messy, blue hair. She’s reading a book. Crickets chirp outside. It is peaceful. 
“Yes?” 
“Why did you name me ‘Zandik’?”
His mother looked at him confused. “Why not? It is a lovely name.”
“But it means ‘heretic’.”
“You’re correct.”
“Isn’t that bad?”
“Hm… “ She set down her book, pondering his words. “I did not think of it as heretic in a traditional, religious way. It also could mean a person who holds beliefs against what is generally accepted.”
“Isn’t that also bad?”
She laughs.
“I suppose. But I would like to believe that it means that you’re not afraid to hold your own beliefs, undaunted by those that disagree with you. I wish for you to have the strength to have a resolute and unshakable faith in yourself.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Zandik's hand brushes against his cheek. He looks down at his hand, his eyebrows only raises slightly when he sees the dried blood. So one of the stones thrown at him had hit him. He thought he was more nimble than that. 
Ah well.
Zandik looks at the village for the last time from the outskirts. The sun sets, bestowing a deep orange hue upon the small houses. In the distance, a bird sings its last song for the day. 
He would not return. 
As Zandik makes his way towards Sumeru City, his mind inevitably wanders back to the deceased and he has an epiphany. 
His mother was as kind as she was intelligent and that had been her fatal flaw. 
Kindness gives to everyone but oneself. She gave herself to the world, piece by piece, till nothing was left of her except her fading smile in Zandik’s mind. If she hadn’t cared so much for her patients, perhaps she would’ve been happier in life.  If she hadn’t worked so hard for her neighbors, perhaps she wouldn’t have gotten sick. If she hadn’t given up her life in the city for him, perhaps she’d be alive. Kindness is a weakness. 
He wouldn’t be weak. 
But he would live up to his name.
After all, it’s all he has of his mother now. 
Mother… I apologize, I cannot hold a promise. 
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mistymem0ryy · 1 year
Text
Il Dottore x Assistant!Reader
(Or rather an amalgamation of thoughts unable to string themselves together)
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My brain is currently turning itself into a mush of rotting matter but I cannot stop thinking of Dottore x Assistant!reader where they happen to be in their current situation out of sheer coincidence (or is it?)
Like imagine Dottore after having all of his clones destroyed and now facing the harsh reality of not having any lending hand in and outside of scientific endeavours? Do not get me wrong even though this guy decided to pursue the career of a Victor Frankenstein kinnie by dropping out and succumbing to madness, he still needs aid in certain aspects of his research and would consequently need to be on the search for at least a competent assistant capable of dealing with his… ‘aspirations’…
And that is when Assistant!reader comes in! I have honestly mainly thought of 2 possible backstories for the reader to find themselves pursuing being the auxiliary of a mad scientist as a professional career:
- First one, you are a member of the Academia, even though you are quite known for your curiosity and intelligence you can never be too safe in an environment as competitive as the one found between all the various students in the establishment. Besides your interest in the sciences you’ve always had an inclination towards history, especially the one related with civilisations of the long lost past, so what do you do when you’ve read most of the material available to students? Do you accept the fact that due to your lower position in the social hierarchy of the Academia there always will be information secured out of your reach by those ‘superior’ to you? Of course you don’t. So you start finding ways of accessing private archives during the dark hours of the night… And that’s when you discover more knowledge about those civilisations that were never made public… but also about a certain Zandik…
- To cut things short you are eventually found out and punished accordingly by being expelled from the Academia, but since you were such a renowned student, be it in academic grades or research, the superiors had to craft a narrative capable of explaining your absence without giving away the true reason behind your leave… and when Dottore hears it, be it because it turned into communal gossip or because it was wrongly served as intel… Oh he laughs himself into the night… He knows a halfassed cover up story when he sees one, and after working his way into obtaining as much information on you as he can in the span of a few hours he has crafted a whole profile of you and has decided to recruit you as his new little assistant… You find yourself baffled when, while begrudgingly leaving Sumeru towards your native land, are surrounded by a group of Fatui agents led by a man whose mint coloured hair brings forth a reminiscence of the one found in the crumbling picture of Zandik…
- The second one is quite the turn, while in the first one the reader could be seen as possessing some sort of reverence towards Dottore (due to later finding out that he is Zandik), in this new scenario the situation is completely different.
- You and your family leave from your original country towards Sumeru, even though you are far from living in luxury you can still make ends meet but the situation only worsens with the passage of time… At one point some Fatui agents knock forcibly on your feeble door and your family is either given or forced into accepting the ‘opportunity’ of having one of their children sold… I mean… recruited by the Fatui! In order to obtain an advanced payment for their diligent services of course! (there could even be developed a backstory where the reader is Snezhnayan and their family has a military history that was eventually led to ruin, but I’m just rambling at this point).
- To get to the point your family is disturbed in the beginning but you know what they say, ‘When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window’. The reader could give themselves up in order to protect their siblings, or there could be a whole scene were their mother grabs 2 of their children and goes ‘this one take this one…’ ‘No, no, no, take the other one; the OTHER ONE!’ (totally not a reference to that one scene between Johan, Anna and their Mother from Monster).
- You are taken in by the Fatui, most probably never to see your family again, and now you have become one of the countless Dottore’s human lab rats.
- In the beginning you let your hopelessness consume you, allowing yourself to wither away with every experiment a random clone performs upon your fading body, but once you grasp the fact that you are capable of slowly amassing a body of knowledge of the different maps of the labs and of all the experiences conducted in that hellhole, you make a promise that once you find your way out you’ll avenge yourself for what these people have done to you, for no one will do it besides your own self.
- After being foolishly mistaken as a dead ‘subject’, your body is discarded along all the remnants of those that weren’t capable of surviving the savagery that infests those laboratories. You successfully escape the grasp of the Fatui and now being considered officially dead you begin the new stage of your plan, you are actually going to make it… and you are going to make it big…
- You use all the knowledge you acquired during those inferno like periods of being experimented upon to your own advantage, you move to Fontaine and begin to work as an auxiliary for some of the marionettes from the various theatres. Your perception and understanding of how human anatomy functions permits you to be able to weaponise these creatures devoid of life through the usage of elemental power upon them, and it is then that the terror begins.
- You fashion a new identity for yourself, a genius marionette maker capable of destroying lines of fighters with a single movement of the hand, and that power… it happened to caught the attention of a certain Archon of ice…
- With Harbingers dying or disappearing here and there you could say that the Fatui were in need of at least some replacements for these power vacuums, and that is the reason why you are recruited (initially as an assistant but perhaps eventually as a Harbinger), someone as powerful and ingenious as yourself could not be made into an enemie of the Snezhnayan army… but rather a member of it.
- Dottore doesn’t remember you, maybe he didn’t even got to be in the same room as you since perhaps you simply happened to be part of a project led solely by his clones… but you remember… his face has haunted you for as long as you can recount and-
- “I must say that, when I first heard of a vision holder capable of manipulating the bodies of various marionettes simultaneously, it did indeed caught my attention”… a silence, a deafening silence that is quickly filled yet again by the previous voice-“As a scientist myself I would love to hear the scientific reasoning behind your process…”
- You turned towards him and feel yourself smiling a calculated smile…
- Revenge never tasted so sweet.
Note: And that it’s all I shall share for today my people. I’m not going to torture myself through any grammar checks since I have got to go back to studying and that happens to be enough torture for itself :’)
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autisticlenaluthor · 6 months
Text
Control
takes place after music but before lena
Three days pass before Kara tells anyone about what happened at the park. 
When she gets home, she slams her door so hard it crumbles right off the hinges, then locks herself in her closet with her favorite book.
She cries for nearly two hours– big, heavy tears that burn as they fall and clump up in her throat. She cries for Kal, who she didn’t mean to betray; cries because she never would’ve been so kind to a Luthor if she’d known who they were. Because she can’t believe she was so stupid– can’t believe she knew Lena’s last name this whole time but still managed to convince herself she wasn’t one of those Luthors. And then she cries because Lena really did seem like any other girl. No– she was even more interesting than the other girls Kara knows and maybe that’s what hurts so much.
She’d wanted to be her friend. Friends with a Luthor.
She hates herself for being so trusting. So naive. 
But then she thinks about Kal (she always goes back to him) and how for years, Lex had been his right-hand man. And it’s like a switch goes off in Kara’s brain. If Lena could lure her in a day, it no longer seems so perplexing how her cousin could’ve stayed by Lex’s side for so long. 
Knowing their mistake is shared makes things the tiniest bit easier. 
It’s what gives Kara the courage to leave the closet after Eliza finishes putting the door back in its frame, and crawl back into bed. She eats dinner half under the covers and for the rest of the day, refuses to speak. No, she can’t speak– she can’t do anything, she’s too paralyzed with anger and exhaustion and every other emotion under the sun. 
But at least she isn’t crying. So hey, it’s a start. 
The next morning, Kara feels like she’s risen from the dead. Her limbs are heavy– her eyes raw and red. Dark bags hang below them, sunken in like hollowed-out bruises. When Kara tries to toast her Pop-Tarts with her heat vision, all she gets is a headache and a weird look from Alex for squinting and grunting down at the plate. 
Eliza tells her she’s experiencing something called a solar flare. She’s burnt herself out and now her body needs time to recover before it can sustain its powers again. She says it’s like when a car runs out of gas or when humans hit a wall and need a few days to recuperate. Kara wants to be upset at the explanation but really, she isn’t sure it makes any sort of difference. Even if she had her powers, she’d be too tired to use them.  
So Kara spends the rest of the day on her side of the room with all her lights off. She tries to read but none of the words stay in her head. Instead, she listens to the Fearless album on her iPod on a loop– not quite awake but not quite asleep. She daydreams about Krypton and the science guild and how the sunset looked from the giant window in her old bedroom. And then she cries some more.
By day three, Kara is bored and restless. If her powers had returned, she’d speed through the clouds until all her excess energy was dispersed. But they haven’t. So she has to settle for periodically flapping her hands and jumping around her room to get rid of the feeling that tells her she’s about to explode. 
It isn’t until the middle of the afternoon, when Alex is at softball practice and the house is feeling uncharacteristically quiet, that Kara finally brings it up.
She finds Eliza on the sofa in the living room and sits beside her on the other end. She brings her legs up into her chest, awkwardly fiddling with the drawstring on her sweatpants as she tries to find the right words. It doesn’t take long for her to realize there are none. So Kara bites the bullet and comes right out with it.
“The girl I had to work with the other day…” she begins. “For the extra credit project… it was Lex Luthor’s sister.” 
Eliza’s eyes widen and she sets her book down, turning her full attention to Kara.
“Oh my… did she– she didn’t do anything o- or say anything to you, did she?”
Kara shakes her head. Her voice is quiet. Withdrawn, almost. 
“No. She was weirdly normal. She didn’t tell me who she was.” 
“How did you figure it out?”
Kara shrugs. “Some girls from her school came up to us when we were cleaning. And they– they started saying all these things to her and none of it made sense. So I asked and… they told me.”
“Oh.”
Eliza exhales, frowning.
“That must’ve been really hard.” 
“Yeah. I just… I can’t believe I didn’t know. I– I wanted to be her friend,” Kara says. Her hands start to shake as she speaks. Her throat feels too stiff– like it can’t properly wrap itself around her words. “I feel so gross. Like… dirty.”
“I bet,” Eliza responds, her voice soft. “I know how crazy the whiplash must be for you. But it’s not crazy you wanted to be her friend. You saw someone you liked and you wanted to get to know them. That doesn’t make you dirty.” 
Kara shakes her head and looks down, pressing the pad of her thumb against her nailbed. 
“Her brother tried to kill Kal. He’d want to kill me if he knew me. He– he doesn’t even know I exist and he hates me. And she’s his sister so she– she’d hate me too and she almost really did know me.”
She stops for a moment and clamps her mouth shut, hot tears prickling at her eyes. She thinks about Lena’s quiet, restrained laugh, and how different things would’ve been if she’d known. If neither of their identities had been a lie.
“I don’t want to see her again,” Kara says eventually. “I can’t– I can’t work with someone like her. Or like anyone in her family.” 
Eliza sucks in a breath. She nods, slowly, taking a second to gather her thoughts.
“Kara… what Lex did… it was horrible. And I know I can’t imagine how scary it must’ve been for you to see him go through that. Especially after everything you’ve lost.” 
My world. Kara wants to correct her. I lost my whole world. 
“But Lena is only– what, fifteen, give or take? And I- I’m not saying you have to be friends with her or even like her. All of that is up to you. But she doesn’t have any control over what her family does. Lex is a grown man who can take the fall on his own. But Lena– she’s still a kid… just like you.” 
“She’s not like me,” Kara whispers. “She’s nothing like me.”
“Maybe she isn’t. But we don’t know her,” Eliza says. “Just like she doesn’t know you.”
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