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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

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What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 19

Wordcount: 6, 743 Rating: M for strong language, gore, and mature themes Chapter synopsis: Alfred is wary of his clone, who manages to unearth the demons he’s been running away from since day one. It doesn’t help that you feel sympathy for it, though you’d rather call it a ‘he’. When they finally clash, Alfred realizes that their conflict can only end with one of them on top. Meanwhile, you experience dreams and daydreams of your father. Is it a herald sent from the future, meant to foreshadow your fate as his kin, or just old memories better off forgotten? The reader is referred to as she/her.

19 - I am you and you are me

“Attempting to harness the engine of our own destruction, only humans are so foolish.”

Inside this glorified metal shed, stood the vehicle that would be blasting everybody into Orbit.

‘It looks like a hybrid between a space shuttle and rocket,’ you thought. ‘Is that a convertible plane? That stands up like a teepee?’ thought Allen and Alfred. Giving the side a few pats, Zao grinned eagerly at the group. “This, is my baby. She’s gonna take us where we wanna go,” He began. “And also be our bed and breakfast for a couple of days.”

“Alien tech.” Alfred narrowed his eyes to thin slits.

In two days, you would say bye-bye to Earth. Impressively enough, those forty-eight hours were all Zao and Arthur needed for their engineering feat—fixing up this ship so it was on par with every other ‘piece of space junk’ flying out there. The brunette was unapologetically proud of his fine collection of flying machines.

It was even grander than what the military had.

From the most ordinary to the downright bizarre, Zao had it all. Private jets, passenger planes, rockets, and even a working replica of the Millennium Falcon, he wowed the crowd that trailed behind him. All in save for Arthur, who was by his side. “Back in the day, I used to fly all kinds of science sorties. But I had... Attachment issues. So I bought them.” He explained, gesturing to everything with a twirl of his wrist.

“Jesus,” Alfred murmured.

“Christ. Was there ever a time when you had to worry about your bank account?” Allen mused, rearing his head back to take everything in. You were next to him, and just as much in awe. You’ve never seen so much money in one place, which spoke volumes considering your circumstances. “Man, you gotta get me one of these!” He jogged to an X-wing fighter.

Zao snorted. “Can you even afford it?”

“Sure. After you give me a friend discount.”

“If I gave you ten million off, there’s still twenty that you don’t have.”

Allen pulled you in by the waist, letting your back collide with his chest. You shot him a weird look. This wasn’t a conversation you were sure you wanted to be involved in. “Babe, help me out here. How ‘bout you give me a small loan of, uh, ten million dollars. I’ll be your best friend!” He pleaded, and the thing was, you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Small loan of ten million dollars?” You and Alfred chorused.

The blonde cast a discerning gaze his way—

“And have you even seen Star Wars?”

“The hell is Star Wars?” Allen grumbled, giving the X wing one last wistful look. “You guys are no fun. It would’ve been cool to go out in one of these.” To most, it was just an expression. But you wouldn’t put it past him to do something so reckless like going out in a blaze of glory. Sliding your hand into his, you squeezed him hard. “Hm?” He tilted his head down at you. When it hit him, he grinned toothily.

“No need to get so worked up, doll. I’m not that stupid,” He hummed, though he couldn’t lie that he wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“So you should just cool your jets.”

You stifled a smile, leaning in for a sideways hug. “Dumbass. I wouldn’t give you the money anyway.”

“Aw, for real?”

“Alright, quit flirting, you two,” Alfred mumbled. “It’s my turn.” He watched you turn away, an attempt to hide the rosiness in your cheeks. You weren’t used to him making passes so casually. It was almost like you were both an item. But the label was just a formality at this point, wasn’t it? Alfred would’ve agreed.

He rested his chin on your head and hugged you from behind.

“Nice and easy does it.” Your hands went up to hold his strong arms. For the longest time, you knew him as action-oriented, brazen, and intense. Alfred was many things, but gentle was not one of them. It was refreshing, to say the least.

While your chest flurried with warmth, he experienced something on the other end of the spectrum. He was lucky his clone came down with nausea after a ride in Zao’s spinner. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be enough of you to go around. With you, they could be like hungry dogs to a steak. But as if he’d let that son of a bitch get the chance.

“(F/N)?” Alfred began. “You awake?” His whispers startled you, but not as much as the faint blue glow from his eyes. It reflected onto Allen’s face, disturbing him in his slumber. Even in such a spacious guest room with separate futons, the three of you decided to share one. So everyone ended up being in arm’s reach. To be fair, it was a king single.

“Turn off the friggen’ lights...” He warbled, throwing a leg over you afterward. “Mm...”

You couldn’t help a soft smile at that. Pressing closer into his chest, you breathed out a soft exhale—

“Maybe turn down the brightness, champ. You’re gonna blind him.” Alfred lowered the intensity until there was only a faint pulse of light. Your back was still turned to him, but he was more than happy to hear you respond at all. In the small hours of the night, you were awake and humoring him.

“I need to talk to you,” He scooted in, settling a hand on your shoulder. “Can you turn around?”

“I’m perfectly comfortable where I am.”

“Please?”

Ever since you kissed him, he’d never stopped thinking about returning the favor. But it became a secondary urge to gutting his clone alive. If only he could switch them around somehow.

So, he tried his luck tonight. “I wanna see your face.”

He just had to sweet-talk you into this, didn’t he? “Fine.” You sighed. Rolling around to meet his gaze, you blinked slowly before closing your eyes. “Well, now, you’ve seen it. Now, spill.”

The moment you turned to him, he found himself staring at your lips. He had to ignore every little voice in his head, every whim in his mechanical heart so as to not give in. But temptations were there to indulge in, weren’t they? He scooted in.

“About... Calfred,” You didn’t cut in, so he assumed you understood exactly what he meant. Calfred, short for clone Alfred. “Don’t try and be friends with him, okay? He’s not really me.” That, you didn’t have much to complain about. But nearly everything was easier said than done. “So if he tries to be close to you, just ignore him. Promise?”

“... I don’t know, Al.” His brows came together for an expression of dread. As an effort to console him, you dug your hand through his hair. “It can’t be that simple. I mean, I never wanted much to do with him, but he’s part of our team, now.” Alfred sighed softly. He hated that you had a point. And the thing was, getting to know him wasn’t exactly valid when he was far from a stranger. So he tried to be compliant.

Until you added this, that was. “I’m sorry, he’s just kinda irresistible to me because he’s kinda you...”

“But he’s not me,” He grumbled, his mouth forming a prominent frown. “Do I have to worry about being cheated on with my evil twin? I can’t cope,” Alfred squeezed you defiantly. He heard a few chuckles, which prompted him to say this heatedly.

“I’m serious. You of all people should know that. ‘Cause if you ever give him more attention, I will blow myself up. I’m not joking.”

“I know you would. That’s why I wouldn’t.”

“... I really don’t like how you put it.”

“Yeah. Well, I won’t,” You stifled a breathy laugh. He continued to stare, a little unconvinced. As if you read his mind, you opened your eyes, then added this to destroy every shred of doubt he could possibly harbor. Because if there was one thing in the world you were certain of, it was this.

“You know how I feel about you.”

There was an untold fondness in how you looked at him, and seeing it had him falling deeper and deeper.

“Do I?” Alfred whispered. You watched the soft pulsing of his electric blue irises. As it got closer and closer, you never moved away. He was leaning in.

It never occurred to you how close he was until his mouth was on yours. “You’re not pulling away.” He murmured. You felt every word graze against your lips. Even then, you never pushed him, nor moved your head back.

“Why would I pull away?” What was meant to be innocent, ended up shattering his self-restraint. With one quick yank, you were on his chest. Your face hovered over his, and it was lowering thanks to your exhaustion. It only made this all the more easier for him—kissing you until you’d have the taste of him ingrained in your hazy mind.

He moved his mouth heatedly, savoring every bit of hot friction against your lips. But that wasn’t enough. Alfred wanted to inhale you—to consume everything you could offer in this exchange. So he licked you to pry you open like a treasure chest. The slightest gap could be an invitation, as he’d make do with the smallest slit and slither his tongue in.

You never realized how things had escalated until he had his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist. Before anything went beyond that, though, you fell asleep. Alfred pulled away. His chest was humming, and he had to wonder with the tension downstairs if he was experiencing his version of blue balls—he couldn’t stop thinking that if you did stay awake, things would’ve ended a lot differently.

A tired, floaty smile stretched across his face. Everything felt so natural, he was sure that was exactly where you both were headed.

You know how I feel about you.

Alfred could guess what you meant.

If you really loved him, nobody else could share your affections. Not Allen, and not his clone.

Calfred was just going to be a version of him that would never know the feeling of your kiss. And for that, Alfred nearly felt sorry for him.

“When you turn eighteen, you can get tattoos like Allen.” The man said, picking up his teacup.

Even with his back turned, he never missed a thing. You were staring at his elaborate tattoos that covered every inch of his broad, muscular back. Two graceful cranes danced around his spine. Surrounding that were shaded clouds, ocean waves, and cherry blossoms. “He chose koi fish. A symbol of luck, prosperity, and good fortune. I suppose it suits him.”

He’d shed off the top half of his gi after an intense kendo match. It poured onto the wooden floorboards beneath, which remained the cleanest part of the house. The open-air halls overlooked a zen garden in the center, and your father made it a habit to watch it whenever he sat down for a break.

Out of all the people he fought with, you were the only one who could manage to get him to break a sweat. Of course, that didn’t come without consequences on your part—it was exhausting trying to keep up with your old man.

“Then, what about yours?” You questioned, plummeting down by his side with a bottle of water. “Phew. Longevity, huh? Haven’t you lived long enough?” Your chest rose and fell heavily as you nudged him in the side. He stroked his beard in thought. His calm expression never faltered as he took your words into consideration.

“I’m still young. You wouldn’t suppose I’d pass at this age, would you?” His eyes were closed as he spoke, but he opened one to peer at you in a playful manner. You snorted in laughter. His unpredictability was the perfect embodiment of the best and worst of him. His cunning and malice, which went up against his terribly unfunny humor.

“Of course, of course. You’re middle-aged, not elderly. My mistake.”

He nodded. “And, who says I can’t pick cranes because I like them?”

You shrugged. That was true in its own right, but your old man was far too traditional for that. You were raised to attribute meaning to everything, even something as innocent as eating habits. Sticking chopsticks in your rice was unacceptable. They look too much like the incense burned at funerals, he explained. And no, I didn’t make that one up.

“So, what tattoo should I get?” You spoke after a short period of silence. “I was thinking maybe waves... And koi fish. Nothing too crazy.”

He hummed in a low, gravelly voice.

“And I was thinking a dragon,” He lifted a finger for emphasis. You gawked at him. If there was one person in the syndicate to have something that extravagant, it was him. “No daughter of mine will have matching tattoos with their bodyguard.” Takahiro let out a loud rumble of laughter at that. He was even shaking his head in amusement.

“Don’t talk down to him. He’s my friend,” You grumbled. He stopped laughing and cleared his throat. “And he’s your right-hand man, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s not a Mizumoto,” He clarified, turning to you. When you returned his gaze, you were taken aback by the profound look in his gray eyes.

“Right.” You turned away.

It wasn’t new, hearing him talk about your only friend like an outsider. He wasn’t family by blood.

“But this isn’t about that. Or him. This is about you,” When you glanced up again, albeit reluctantly, he continued. Holding your shoulder with one hand, he leaned in and caught you in another one of his intense stares. And it was impossible to look away.

“You are the best of all of us. You have power,” Mizumoto spoke with such a cutting-edge conviction, you were tempted to agree. But power? “More than you could ever imagine. More than me, even—you could overtake me if you put your mind to it. It’s in your blood. You’re a Mizumoto.”

“But I’m not you,” You cut in with a deep frown. “What if I don’t want to take over the world? That’s the difference between you and me.”

He lifted his head for a shrewd look.

“That’s what makes you better than me. My ambition is great, but you, you can be revered in other ways.”

The world may need me to sustain life, but you can give it something to live for.

Your heart is as big as your brain.

You have balance, my child. And that’s what gives you so much power, like a dragon.

A beautiful hairpin with pink flowers was revealed in his palm. His rough, calloused hand served a stark contrast to the delicate trinket inside it. But he handled it with care, almost as if the hairpin itself was you—the one thing in his possession that couldn’t be replaced.

“But for now, you can match with this. You can put it on and take it off whenever you like. You still have time to decide your future.”

You woke up with a deep, pounding ache in your chest. It was still there as you came to your senses, but it faded along with the memory of your dream. Where was that hairpin now, anyway? It was probably lost forever, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could throw it away like he did to you.

He would’ve disagreed with the wording.

But you were loyal.

Betraying Allen was synonymous with betraying you.

Sitting up slowly, the arm settled on your stomach slid off as a result. It alerted Alfred, who followed suit and sat up behind you.

“... Morning,” He murmured hoarsely. “Want me to come with you to the toilet?”

“It’s okay. I know where to go,” Peering at him over your shoulder, you exhaled softly when he leaned down to bump his cheek to yours. “You’re such a puppy sometimes.” You muttered, seeing him stick his tongue out at you. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he didn’t lick your forehead with it.

“Alfred, what the heck!” He made a face as if to go, heh. Scrambling onto your feet, you wiped the saliva away before shooting him a look. “What is this, warm water or something?” He shrugged, leaning back to rest on his hands. Assuming that he wouldn’t say anything else, you ambled to a chair where you hung your jacket. As he watched you slide it on, he felt a strong urge to accompany you anyway.

You were right about him being a puppy. He could follow you to the ends of the Earth if that was where you were going. That statement rung particularly true as he ended up giving in—he tailed you to the bathroom down the hall. By then, you already disappeared behind the door, but that didn’t stop him from loitering. “And dog is man’s best friend...”

Alfred huffed after letting those words out. “I’m being stupid,” He looked around. His expression grew sheepish as he imagined how you’d react to him standing awkwardly outside. In his defense, the bathrooms in the motels were never this far from the bed. It was then did he realize another similarity between himself and a beloved canine companion.

He was high-maintenance.

Calfred appeared around the corner.

Alfred dashed into the empty room opposite. Closing the door to leave a small gap, he watched his doppelgänger with nail-biting anticipation.

The hum of a sink faucet stopped. The bathroom door creaked open, and behind it was you—a little startled, but still you. Standing outside was Alfred in the flesh. “Hey,” Calfred smiled, reaching out to give your arm a squeeze. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I guess,” For a second, you mistook him for Alfred. But the longer you stared at his face, imperfect as everyone else’s, it became apparent he was the man you were told to avoid.

His baby blue eyes drooped ever so lightly as he watched your expression, and under them were a pair of bags. But that wasn’t all. They were a little puffy, a surefire sign he’d been crying. What could he be crying about? You’ve never felt so sad in someone else’s stead—“Al.” It slipped out so seamlessly, you never realized until you saw his reaction. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Alfred clenched his fists. Al, you called him.

Calfred stood still, but his face said it all. It looked like he just caught the Holy Ghost—he was so happy, he couldn’t even speak. “... I... Uh... Haha, that’s, that’s me,” He grinned wide. The joy he first presented was only surface-level, and under that was grief you couldn’t ignore. “That’s me.”

“It is you.” You reached up to hold his cheeks. He leaned into the touch, screwing his eyes shut. He’d been so touch-deprived, and being away from you just rubbed more salt into the wound. “You’re you, okay? Don’t let anybody tell you any different.”

Not even Alfred, who stood nearby, hearing every single word in the exchange.

His worst fears were becoming reality, and all he could do was let it all happen. He’d died many times, and reborn a few more, but nothing could prepare him for this. It hurt so damn bad. He didn’t have the chemicals for a good hot cry, but the tears still came, raining down his pale face in endless streams.

It was the world that was cruel, not you. But at this point, they were becoming synonymous.

Calfred understood why he couldn’t sleep in the same room with you, considering Alfred and Allen were there. But at the same time, he couldn’t understand. Like you said, he was still him, wasn’t he? He was Alfred. You thought so too, and so did Zao. But it didn’t feel that way when he was excluded from the rest of the group. “I...”

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he pulled you in for a sudden hug. “Oh—” Then, he held onto you like his life depended on it, because it did. Your affection for him may as well be the only ticket to his survival. As he came to terms with it, he had to blink back tears himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just...” He released you reluctantly. That let you see his rapidly reddening face, and it hurt you more than you could fathom. “I dunno why this is so hard. I can... I can handle being alone for the night. I just have to get used to it, don’t I?”

“You don’t think there’s... Extra room for me in your room, do you?” He continued, forcing a small smile. “It’s been a while. I miss it.” I miss you.

He didn’t need to say it for you to know.

“I’ll see what I can do. I promise.” It wasn’t right, what you were doing. You had a feeling. But feelings were what coerced you into it in the first place.

Alfred wiped everything away hastily. He thought he could continue suffering in silence, but he was drawing the line. Opening the door much to your surprise, he stepped out and grabbed your hand. “Right, that’s not happening.” He shot his clone a dark glower, but the hatred wasn’t as hot as he expected. “You’re not bunking with us. If I don’t do something about it, Allen will anyways. So you’re better off staying where you are.”

You tugged your hand in his grip. “Alfred—” He looked at you like you just kicked a puppy.

“I’m sure we can work out something. It shouldn’t be... Too hard.” You caught a glimpse of Calfred’s expression, which was what made you falter. His head was turned to the side, and his pain was glaring. You couldn’t stand it. “Come on.” There was clear desperation in your voice, begging him to relent. But he never did, and dragged you off.

“No.” Alfred kept pulling you down the hall against your will. He was going so fast, you went right past three ornamental vases and wooden displays in the blink of an eye. But they never piqued your attention. Instead, you kept turning back to watch him. Alfred could feel you turning, so he repeated himself. “No, okay? We talked about this. You know I’ll say no.”

“Really? We can’t think of something?”

Calfred was left standing alone in the winding red hallway. He stood out like a sore thumb.

“Yeah, really. So just drop it.”

“What if this was me that was cloned? Would you just ignore the other me completely? No, right?”

He sighed sharply. “But that’s not what it is.”

“I’m just giving you an example,” You stopped him in the doorframe. “So you’d understand how I felt. Maybe I can’t do what I want, but you’d know why I was acting like this, at least. He was crying.”

“Well, I was too!” Alfred exclaimed. He rose his voice so much, your resolve to argue with him was completely shattered. The next moments were choked by silence, in which the only sound present was the soft thumping and rustling of a futon. Allen was in the back, folding everything up. Even under his scrutiny, he couldn’t stop himself from raving.

“But I guess you can’t tell because I’m not red and look like total crap. This is why I don’t want you close to him.” Witnessing how riled up he got had you second-guessing yourself. Maybe he was right. Maybe you really were in the wrong. But there could be more than one truth. Couldn’t there?

Allen could second on that.

Alfred dug his hands through his hair. He paced around in a circle before returning to you.

“I’m sorry. Are you mad? Please don’t be mad,” He held your shoulders briefly before reaching up to your face. You turned away. It wasn’t news that Alfred could be explosive—you were lucky his emotions didn’t get the best of him because this could’ve ended a lot worse. “Talk to me.”

Allen walked over. This scene was getting a little repetitive. To say it was an eyesore was an understatement. “She doesn’t have to say anything if she doesn’t want to,” He mumbled, grabbing your hand to lead you away. “Go drink some battery acid or something. We’re gonna eat some breakfast.”

When the door closed, Alfred dug his hands through his hair. Nowadays, he only seemed to be good at fucking things up. Just when he thought he had you, he ruined everything. He could only hope you were patient enough to work things out again.

The first meal of the day was short.

When your companion noticed you playing with your food, prodding at it with that absent look in your eyes, he sighed. For such a large party, it felt dreadfully lonely during most hours of the day. Zao and Arthur were off doing God knows what. And Alfred? To hell with Alfred.

“Let’s do something else,” Allen suggested, sliding off his stool to approach you from behind. You looked at him expectantly. When he flashed that playful grin of his, you could practically tell what he was about to say. “You up for a kendo match?”

He’d never seen you so excited. After dragging him down the halls to the gym, you took two katanas off the wall and tossed one to him.

“Here. You’re red, I’ll be blue.”

He caught it stiffly with one hand.

“Woah,” When he stared down at the sword, he felt strong nausea churn in his stomach. But it subsided when he looked up at you—you were polishing the scabbard with your shirt. He couldn’t understand why he was so anxious. He wasn’t bad at kendo.

He could keep up with you, at least.

“Aren’t we doing kendo? Why are we using katanas?”

You turned to him, then shrugged unassumingly.

“He doesn’t have the shinai. We’ll use these instead,” You explained, stepping onto the mat to prepare. Allen was uncharacteristically tense. His shoulders were up, and he never made a move to step onto the mat with you. So, you added this for some peace of mind. “If that’s okay with you, of course. I promise I won’t land a single cut on you.”

A nervous smile stretched at his lips.

“Of course you won’t,” Allen inhaled deeply, watching you unsheathe your katana with a metallic ‘shik’.

A mesmerizing shine appeared on the blade. What should’ve been beautiful, you, swishing the sword gracefully by your side before taking a strong stance, was downright terrifying. “Just don’t kill me.”

“Why would I kill you?” You questioned, furrowing your brows ever so slightly. At every word you uttered, your form never budged from perfection. You were as still as a statue. And so, while you held the sword out, ready to strike, you looked formidable. It’s always been this way, Allen thought. She’s like a different person whenever she picks up a katana.

In a matter of seconds, he’d face a side of you only few have witnessed. Himself, and the old man.

It was your cold, relentless ferocity that could put any swordsman to shame.

He’d never been intimidated by your skill. And yet, seeing the razor-sharpness of the katana trained at him so menacingly had him wondering if the whole world was crumbling apart.

“Fight, (F/N)! Do not hold back! Holding back is what sets the difference between victory and defeat!” Takahiro roared, clashing his katana against yours in loud, powerful clinks. Strong vibrations went down your blade as you struggled to defend against his cuts and strikes. “There’s nothing stopping you except your mind. Let go and concentrate!”

In your moment of distraction, he kicked you in the stomach to launch you back a few feet.

“Gh—!” You fell onto your back in a heavy thump. Before he could skewer your head, you rolled to the right, then left to avoid his swift jabs.

Then, you forced yourself to stand up, even if it hurt.

Nothing in the world could be more physically demanding than this. A fierce clashing of swords between a master and their apprentice expected to be better than them. Lifting your katana again, you caught him in another hot stare. He showed a devilish grin. This was exactly what he’d been waiting for—not your anger, but your drive.

You dashed to him and struck him hard. Following that was a series of relentless slicing. You were so fast, he had to step back to avoid the intensity of your attacks. “Good, (F/N), good!” He bellowed, moving back some more as he dodged and ducked your whizzing blade. “Never hesitate.”

When you finally managed to cut him once, successfully drawing a line of red on his cheek, he held up a hand to signal for you to stop.

“This is in your blood. Hone into it.”

You never realized how lost in thought you were until Allen begged for you to stop.

He never managed to gain a single inch of the floor. You were pushing against him ruthlessly, holding your blade against his in a violent tremble. Then, you made a forceful slice to push it away. Once he was open again, you struck him a few times before knocking his sword out of his hands.

It spun up towards the ceiling before falling, skewering into the corner of the mat. While he watched it go, you sunk down and swept him off his feet with a fast kick. “Woah—!”

Allen fell onto his back with next to no grace. When he opened his eyes, he was staring death in the face. You thrust your katana at his nose. He threw his hands up and spluttered desperately while scrambling backward. “Oh, crap, shit, I surrender!”

Your chest was rising and falling intensely as you towered over him. When you saw the fear running through his eyes, you pulled your sword away and sheathed it. “Sorry,” You breathed, offering a hand for him to take. He grabbed it and pulled himself up. “I’m not... Good at holding back.”

“I almost thought you were gonna take my head off.” Allen huffed, capturing you in a quiet stare. God forbid him to say it out loud, but you were terrifying whenever you picked up a sword. It wasn’t just because of your talent. It was more like you resembled your father. The similarities were uncanny, but he hoped this was nothing but an image. A mere blip in time that wouldn’t unfold into a narrative.

When his gaze was returned, a single desire connected you both. A good break was in order, and with that, a long-awaited conversation.

“You should’ve told me,” You muttered, narrowing your eyes remorsefully. No wonder he was so distracted during the match. He kept freezing up. Bringing your knees to your chest, you hid your face in it to hide how red it became. “I’m sorry.”

Allen reached out to hold your shoulder.

“Don’t be. I was the one who suggested it in the first place.” He sighed. “And, plus—” He slapped both hands on his knees and looked up to the sky.

“—I’m ready to move on.”

You rolled your head to him to show a small smile.

“Yeah. I’m still sorry, though.”

“Eh. You can make up for it by living with me for the rest of your life.” He turned back to you with a wide, rosy grin. Your cheeks flushed red. But you never turned away. “Do we have a deal, or what?”

“Allen.”

Giving your head a small shake, you stifled back a few laughs, but to no avail. Fortunately for him, you provided an answer that indulged him on his highest hopes and deepest fantasies—“I’ll have to think about it. We can talk about this after, okay?”

After the fight. After these certain uncertainties.

He lit up. Did this mean he had a chance? A real one?

“Alfred is... A handful. I can’t leave him, but I can’t leave you, either. You’re my family.” Bringing him closer to your body, he rested his head on your shoulder contentedly. What you mentioned was just the natural order of things, but it brought him more solace than he expected. You could say the same. “You probably already know this, but...”

He closed his eyes and basked in the comfort of your scent. Your touch. The familiarity of his oldest friend.

“I love you. More than anything. So, don’t think I’ll ever want you out of my life, okay?”

Allen’s brows trembled together. His heart was aching more than he could fathom, but it hurt so good. “Well, I love you too. I just wished... That maybe you loved me enough to make it exclusive,” Your chest tightened. Before you told him to save it for another day, he caught the gist.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you about that,” He laughed mirthlessly. Opening his eyes for a serious stare, he added this with cutting-edge conviction. “But Alfred isn’t good for you. He’s too busy fighting with himself, and one, if not both of them are gonna die because of it. You know that.”

Alfred trained in the VR for the last two hours. During the session, he spun up all kinds of opponents to take on, but nothing could quite compare to fighting himself. He could fight fire with fire, or get his ass whooped if he was even the slightest bit distracted. Fortunately, he was dead set on destroying anything and anyone that remotely looked like him.

He wasn’t above using rockets on them.

When they popped out of his arm, his doppelgänger scrambled away in fear. But that didn’t faze him. Sending them off without a second thought, he watched him go out in an explosion of flesh and bones. To see his parts splatter on the walls brought him more satisfaction than one would consider sane.

Alfred logged off and returned to the real.

When Calfred dropped by the needlessly large kitchen for a snack, he didn’t think he’d be eating directly across himself. Because moments after walking in, Alfred did too. His so-called original. The man he used to be before waking up in this meat suit in a dumpster. Alfred was rummaging through the pantries, which he just did a few moments ago.

It wasn’t a first, seeing him do the same thing at the same time. But rather than filling the hole in his stomach, Alfred would be eating for the taste of it.

“Hey,” Calfred began, glancing up briefly before lowering his head to his food on the counter. As he waited for his noodles to cook, he felt around his fleshy stomach under his shirt. He was starved half to death, and he felt the full force of it now that he actually needed sustenance. But he was ready to welcome it like an old friend, and he’d start with some instant junk. “Want one?”

“I was gonna make one myself,” Alfred murmured, narrowing his eyes into thin slits. “But I changed my mind.” His clone shrugged, then took a seat by one of the counters to dig into his meal. Slurping up the noodles in the most obnoxious way possible, he took a few sips before smacking his lips. Do I actually eat like that? Alfred thought, glowering darkly at him. He must’ve been really enjoying it—the guy was devouring it like he hadn’t eaten in days.

As he watched him demolish the noodles with no regard to an audience, Alfred eventually found him unbearable. “... Could you... Shut up?” The other lifted their head to show a weird look.

“What, you don't make sounds when you're eating?”

Alfred scoffed, leaning forward with a dirty look.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Just not the kind that gets someone pissed at you,”

“Fuck is wrong with you?”

“Fuck is wrong with me? Fuck is wrong with you?” Alfred glared at him fiercely. It was like staring into a mirror while hallucinating. His reflection never followed any of his actions or expressions, so it was the closest thing to drugs he could ever get. “What the hell even are you?” Calfred reared his head back, giving his bottom lip a lick. “What are you?”

“If you don't know, how the hell am I supposed to know?” The other finally answered, throwing his chopsticks into the sink with a clang. “But I guess I had more time to think about this than you did.” Think wasn't the right word for it. Accept was more like it. Everything they did, said and thought were of a jarring equivalence.

And it drove Alfred out of his mind.

It eventually begged the question, just how similar was he to this guy? What did he know?

Some things? Everything?

What did he know about you?

Calfred gulped down the last of the salty goodness in the cup. Slamming that down with a gasp, he wiped his mouth with the side of his hand.

“To sum it all up, I’m just you. I’m the only one who ever knocks on the bathroom door while you’re taking a shit ‘cause that’s when I gotta go, too.” Alfred wished he could say something along the lines of, fuck are you saying? But the weird-ass analogy was something he would’ve used.

“Well, you aren’t me. You’re a fake.” Alfred murmured, staring at him through his eyebrows. He extended a finger at him. “I got here first, so you’re gonna have to go when the time is right. I don’t care what (F/N) has to say about this, ‘cause she doesn’t understand. But that won’t matter in the end,”

He watched the other’s expression as he added this, and it changed into exactly what he expected.

“She might treat you like you’re me, but she’ll still pick me over you in the end.”

Unbridled rage, jealousy, and self-loathing. The holy trinity of ugly feelings he knew all too well.

“Fuck you.” His voice was thick with malice, and his face was reddening by the second. “We’ll see who she really wants in the end.” Calfred never imagined he would get this far—to want to live again. But jealousy was a cruel mistress. You were the fire in his loins, and it was more than enough to keep him kicking until the end.

“An android, or a flesh and blood human.”

“I’ll have another round,” A bearded man demanded. Aboard this fine metal contraption was everything he possibly could’ve wanted for a new chapter of life. His very own instruments of destruction. Made to end what should’ve ended. The past was finally going to be history, and he could keep looking forward to the future, unburdened.

“Shouldn’t you make preparations for their arrival?” Another voice suggested. Takahiro was laying on his side on a bamboo mat, extending a hand that held a sake dish. It wasn’t long before a polished white bottle poured more liquor into it.

“I already have,” He grumbled lowly, eyeing the rest of the hall in a devious manner. Several men were still moving in furniture from his office, be it bonsai trees, lamps, or shoji screens to make his new cave a little homier. Two remained at his side. One, with a bottle of sake in hand, and the latter with a fan.

They were their master’s most humble and obedient servants. Everything he asked for, they did without question. Made to exist as a pet, they listened to and carried out every single request as their life purpose. Any member in the Mizumoto syndicate could have satisfied those criteria, but they were no yakuza. At least, not anymore. They were all defectors. The first to leave the syndicate for a life away from crime. The first to face the consequences, and the first to die.

Not once, but twice.

They were all clones of Alfred, his greatest foil and truest match. The man who made his life purpose to destroy him.

Created to be the same down to the last atom of being, they made this stronghold impregnable in all manners something could be impregnable.

“They won’t get past the front gate.”

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fluffnstuffq · 3 years

Text

Overdue Update (Important!!)

So.. it’s been a while since I’ve written a long “essay” type post here..

Sadly, this isn’t a discussion about alterhumanity. I… have some things to admit, to explain my absence and such.

Please try to read all the way through. If anything is misunderstood or unclear, I will try my best to answer any questions on the matter.

In around mid-October, the activity on my kin blog dropped off, and while I apologize sincerely for that sudden impromptu hiatus, I felt that I should at least clarify a few things before formally returning.

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I am plural. Specifically, a traumagenic system with four members as of now.

I’ve always been a system despite not initially realizing it (or at least have been since early childhood), don’t get me wrong. I just began really realizing something was off slowly throughout the course of the summer/fall.

Sudden lapses in my sense of time/train of thought accompanied by my mannerisms/speech patterns/personality just seeming to change drastically. I had no idea what was happening, and admittedly, these lapses caused me great distress that spilled over into my everyday interactions with others. I was more on edge, more paranoid, all around stressed for a long while, wondering “why can’t I control myself in confrontations, why don’t I know who I am?”.

For a while, I even dropped the name “Qwerty” because I didn’t feel like I even was Qwerty anymore..

And in a way, how right I was.

As you may know, around mid-June, I began identifying as otherkin/fictionkin, with three kintypes (Blixer, Marx from the Kirby series, and some sort of cryptid/alien). Like many otherkin, I experience mental and phantom shifts, as well as “past life memories” varying in vividness and detail. I still identify as Blixerkin and cryptid/alienkin (not entirely sure yet, to this day) and still get shifts as well as occasional memories/noema for them.

However, from the start, my supposed Marx kintype was always a tad off from the rest. In Marx “shifts”, fundamental parts of my personality and even morals changed; my very sense of identity became blurred. “I” became more argumentative, impulsive, even spiteful at times. It was far beyond just different parts of my own personality being amplified/dulled.

These so-called shifts, unlike the others, were always accompanied by a bout of dissociation. Everything was so foggy and distant, like I wasn’t in control of myself, like I was watching myself from behind a screen. I had enough consciousness to be able to essentially “internally scream at myself” to stop or change my actions if things went badly while in that “foggy” state, but it took immense willpower to even attempt to outright stop it myself.

And while I didn’t experience outright memory loss, after said “lapses” ended, I often found myself unable to sort through my thought process. If someone asked why I’d done/said something in that state, later on I’d be unable to recall my own train of thought, my own reasoning. Thus, for a while I felt utterly lost and confused, as well as frustrated with myself for things I felt I had no control over. Getting into arguments… losing or nearly losing friends… I felt hopeless. I felt like a monster. Out of control.

At first, I assumed these lapses to be merely severe, stress induced mood swings that happened to fall in line with mental shifts. I knew they were Marx; though I thought that it was just a kintype, thought they were still inherently me. However, as time went on and these so-called shifts became more frequent and longer lasting, I began to notice odd quirks. Early in October, a particularly long lasting “Marx shift” completely turned my sense of identity on its head.

Different preferred pronouns and name, different interests, sudden and intense cravings for sweets and candy (I personally can’t stand sugar, so this was the biggest shock, desiring cinnamon rolls and ice cream every minute). I’m also normally very much obsessed with keeping my diction and grammar as neat as possible. However, in this state, those who I talked to could probably attest to the fact that, for a while, that grammar had gone down utterly the drain. Lowercase letters, run-on sentences, no punctuation. This state even seemed to have differing/conflicting opinions from me; in this state “I” preferred the company of different people, spoke much more bluntly, and my empathy levels went from hyper-empathetic to… well, decidedly not.

I felt entirely, utterly like Marx. It wasn’t a shift, it wasn’t merely a change in perception. The previous perception just.. kind of went out the window entirely. The normal homesickness became all-encompassing. The normal “nonhuman” feelings reached distressing levels.

Everything that made me “Qwerty” had just kind of.. Flipped. It scared me.

I’d never felt like that in a mental shift for my other kintypes. In a Blitz shift, I was still fundamentally me, still myself, just a little more excitable and friendly. And if need be, I could usually snap out of it. Kintypes are supposed to still be you, after all. You’re not supposed to “lose control” of yourself, even in a strong shift. Sure, it can be embarrassing/disorienting looking back at what you said while influenced by the mindset, instincts, and energy level of a kintype, but it’s still inherently yourself.

Marx “shifts” were not. They were not “shifts” at all. I realized then that Marx was not a kintype and had never been one. Marx was not me. Marx was someone else, sharing this brain and body despite wanting no parts of it. (He’s doing a lot better now, but really, back then, he was just as panicked as I was, albeit expressing it differently.)

Between the change in identity, the lapses in memory, and the dissociation that accompanied said so-called shifts, by late October, I’d come to the conclusion that I was plural. Somehow. I will not get into it, but certain events that occurred years before during times of stress, trauma, or even just general discomfort aligned well with the behaviors of this alter. And, admittedly, I was initially a tad… afraid of this other being in my brain. It was no fun and games; I didn’t want to believe it.

And yet, as I began to reach out, to talk to my alter, I realized, he’s not bad, he’s not a monster, neither of us are; no alters inherently are. His frustrations, his mannerisms, his actions, defense mechanisms, they were all meant to help us survive. He’s been around for years, even if not always the exact same.

There’s four of us now, and we’re pretty solidly sure of our plurality, having known for about two and a half months now, give or take. While you likely know me best as “Qwerty”, I’m not the “real” one or the “original” or the “most important”. In fact, you’ve probably spoken to the others before on a few occasions, even before we knew we were a system. We’re technically all alters, and we’re all important to each other, as all members of a system are. (Alters should never be reduced to just “extra” or “unwanted/scary” parts, nor should they be treated like characters or a game/act, but that’s a story for another time).

We were afraid of revealing ourselves on main or any blog connected to it, so we’ve been posting on a semi-secret sideblog for the past month or so. We finally made the decision to be open about this due to the fact that it was becoming harder to keep the sideblog separate.

We could no longer post about our alterhuman experiences because continuing to refer to Marx related things as a “kintype” would be misleading and would only make clarification harder in the future.

As all this stress built up and the fear of someone prematurely figuring out who we were rose, we finally came to the conclusion that purposely revealing what we are was the only choice.

I know that, even with all this written, I probably haven’t covered absolutely everything, so once again I’ll be willing to answer questions on the matter/clarify things, for as long as I need to. We want to make sure to prevent any possible misinterpretation.

(We’ll share the name of the sideblog as well in a bit.)

#fluffywords #important #//this is incredibly important so please don't rb either haha//#//we were VERY nervous about posting this but we can't put it off anymore//

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ourdawncomes · 4 years

Text

HEADCANON: THORA CADASH

❝ Every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be. ❞

Those words spoken by Solas to Thora at the start of the game are a sentiment she takes almost the entirety of Inquisition to grapple with.

Since she woke up from calming the Breach, there is a reverence to how people have treated her unlike anything she’s ever experienced, but Solas is the first to put it into words so plainly: they expect a hero, and she’s not sure she has it in her. In the moment, she jests, asking if she’s riding on a shining steed, but it is a question she takes seriously from day one as Herald, no matter her personal beliefs about her supposed chosen status.

She tries to do right by the world around her, for the first time in her life she’s equipped with the means to accomplish what she’s felt unable to before. In Kirkwall she and her brother would pass by veterans and refugees in Darktown with hardly two coins to rub together and move on because they barely had more themselves. In the Hinterlands, she secures blankets and food for the refugees in the Crossroads, but for the most part she’s working within her old wheelhouse. As a former Carta she’s able to charm Ritts into working with the Inquisition and convince Dennet to come tend to the Inquisition’s horses personally through her knowledge of the underworld.

Her first real chance is at Redcliffe. The red lyrium future haunts Thora for years after, she sees her companions as nightmares in the Fade at Adamant, yet her decision to ally with the mages is her proudest moment as Herald. In the immediate aftermath there’s anxiety and tension, especially as people like Cassandra and Cullen make their disagreement clear, but she still knows she did the right thing. There’s a lot she regrets in the years after about her time as Inquisitor, but never that. Yet at the time, it isn’t a moment where she felt particularly heroic. It was a quest marked mostly by failure and death, and the consequences thereof. She comes out of it thinking it’s her companions who are the real heroes of the story, after all, it’s just like Varric says: it’s the heroes who don’t make it out alive.

Sealing the Breach was much the same. She’d tried herself before to no avail, without the mages’ aid they’d be no closer than they were before. Yet in quiet moments she was able to tell herself that it was her word that sealed their alliance with the mages, that she played some part in this victory. When Corypheus attacks, she offers herself as a distraction for their escape. Her encounter with him is terrifying, but the point where Thora feels a spark of the belief people have placed in her is in the snow afterwards. Alone, exhausted, she isn’t sure if it was the Maker who brought her safely to the Inquisition’s camps, or if she did it herself.

When all eyes in the camp turn to her, their voices united in song, it’s an uncomfortable moment for Thora, still used to being in the shadows, but it’s a religious moment too. A complicated, conflicted one, but it’s the closest she’s ever come to thinking that maybe the Maker can see her, after all.

By the time she’s named Inquisitor she knows the hero she’s pretending to be in hopes of becoming her. It’s strange, because after that point most of her largest decisions are the ones leaving her feeling the worst. She takes the Wardens in, but alienates one of her closest friends in doing so. She saves Celene’s life, but is forced to work with Briala from the shadows (if they can ally at all). She drinks from the Well to spare anyone else the fate Solas warns her of, but costs the elves ownership of their history in trying to protect the ones she loves. Her moments of heroism, of feeling good about what she’s doing, come as she’s helping her friends or aiding people like Fairbanks. She molds Skyhold into a place where former Circle mages start families and where Dalish elves invoke Sylaise’s name as they warm themselves by the fires of her fortress. While she feels strongly about the importance of the Wardens, there is unease in her actions. These quests are less about answering the question of what kind of hero she is, but what kind of leader.

The true apotheoses of Thora coming to recognise herself as worthy of being thought of as hero are more personal moments. On the search for Ameridan’s final resting place, she thinks initially to find a human hero, perhaps a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth or someone more along the lines of the Champion of Kirkwall. When the truth is revealed, it’s both devastating and restorative.

It’s devastating to think that history erased Amerdian’s race and religion to something more palatable to Andrastrian sensibilities. It’s horrifying to consider they may one day do the same to her. Yet there is no question in her mind that Ameridan, who she shares so much with, was a hero. It doesn’t seem so far-fetched that she may be, too.

The second is after Descent, when she takes Solas (and potentially others) to Cadash Thaig and uncover her family history after Valta shared what little she knew about their exile. It’s there through Solas’ dreams she learns about Shale, who gave their life and body to save their kingdom and drive back the Darkspawn, the family who wouldn’t let their name go forgotten, and the Cad’halash, ancestors who locked blades with Kal-Sharok to save the elves they’d taken in out of the goodness of their hearts. It’s there she learns that her path these past few years isn’t an aberration or mistake. Heroism is and always has been in her blood, the will to do good that’s so strong it’s lasted through exile and near extinction at the order of their kin.

Thora has believed in the Stone and the ancestors since she was a child, but due to how ancient her clan’s exile was, there was never anyone to believe in. She found them, and in finding them she found herself: the dwarf who promised to stand for Thedas.

#v; once more unto the breach ( thora | inquisitor )#write me down in history ( thora | headcanons )#become the storm you are hiding from ( thora | about )

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friend-me-harder · 5 years

Note

honestly the bit with mallek, cirava and marvus all tacking themselves onto whoever readers hanging out with for the day is so fuckign good and i live for that shit thank you for my life. could we get some? marvus and mallek specifically fighting over mc or just being really passive aggressive with each other and tryna steal mc away for themselves too??

it got long - like really long. That’s why it’s under a read more

You had agreed the night before to hang out with Marvus today. He said he was hosting an event and wanted you to come as a date to keep some of his more aggressive fans away. You told him you weren’t sure how intimidating you would be or how useful you’d be indeterring others, but he’d insisted. And you were kind of excited at the idea of getting to go to a big party.

Marvus had an outfit delivered to you early that very night, you were shocked at how well it fit and how fucking amazing you looked in it. You’d have to give him props, you didn’t really think purple would suit your complexion, but it did.

Some earlier tips on hair and make-up from Tagora and Stelsa and you were ready to go. As you slid into the limo Marvus had sent, a message from Mallek popped up. He was inviting you over to hang out. You told him you’d have to catch up with him lqter as you were on your way out for the night. You apologized and sent a selfie of you pouting to show you were really sorry (and to secretly maybe show him how good you were looking but you’d never admit that or anything).

You were a little eorried when he didn’t respond but were soon too distracted to think of it. You pulled up to a large venue where other high bloods were mingling. There were many purple and indigos present, as well as a few sea dwellers. You shrunk back in the limo, suddenly uncertain about this and considering going to hang with Mallek where you knew you’d be safe.

“Dere u iz lil buddy!” The excited face of Marvus appears in your immediate line of vision, or more accurately takes up your entire range of sight. He’s grinning and backing up, offering his hand to you. You take it, gratefully, and feel your fears leave you as your skin makes contact with his. Marvus shivers a little and winks. “Alwayz 4get how hot u r. Ur skin’s p f**kin warm too.” He says with a wink.

You feel your face flush and you chuckle, thanking him as he links your arm in his and leads you to the entrance. You can feel eyes on you and Marvus, your anxiety begins to spike. You press yourself closer to Marvus to keep from losing your nerve.

“U finna be safe here, no worries 4 my lil miracle.” Marvus assures, patting your hand reassuringly. You smile and nod. “I trust you.” You give his arm a squeeze.

You pass a large indigo at the door who’s holding a tablet. He gives Marvus a nod as you enter into a large foyer. You’re almost blinded by the amount of gold. It’s hard for you to focus on anything in this room, it all seems so glamourous and somehow more alien than anything else you’d seen since arriving on Alternia.

“What is this party for, again?” You ask trying to keep your mind occupied.

“Just a lil thang 4 all my brohimes, jugg-a-sistas, and supportrz, u heard?”

“So, like a networking or fundraising event for your music?”

“No doubt! Got pleny a ca$$h munny, but to keep the sponsors feelin gravy we give em a shin dig 4 dem 2 jerk dey bulges 2.” He tells you with a grin and a wink.

You laugh and shake your head. “Being famous must be so hard.” You joke giving his arm another squeeze.

Marvus laughs loudly, and smiles widely down at you. “I liek u lil bizznatch.”

“Glad to hearnthat.” You tease, removing yourself from him to take a better look around the room – ensuring you maintain a short distance from your date and apparent host. There are fewer people paying attention to you now as they seem to be greeting Marvus, thanking him for inviting them, and other pleasantries.

You’re impressed with his ability to maintain a friendly face amongst so much blatant pandering. He catches your eye and winks, you chuckle and shoot him a thumbs up.

Marvus excuses himself from his guests and makes his way to your side. “Lookin hella fine by deh way. Itz a good color on you.” He says, as his finger trails along your neckline. “Can’t help but think it’d look even betta on my f-”

“I TOLD YOU, YOU’RE NOT ON THE LIST!” The loud voice of the door attendant pulls your attention away from Marvus. You’re surprised to see Mallek at the door, slipping past the man holding the list.

“Check again, it’s under Adalov.” Mallek says, his eyes scanning the room before locking on hou. A large grin cuts across his face as he confidently strides towards you. He’s entirely out of place in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

The door man makes a move to grab him but stops short. “Hey! get ba-oh…here it is.” He mutters, turning back to the line of those trying to get in.

Mallek quickly makes his way to you and you can’t help but smile, it was nice to see another familiar face. His arms are out for a hug and you gladly accept. Mallek rocks you both side to side as he hugs you tightly. He feels safe and smells like home.

Mallek pulls away, only a bit and looks you over, his signature grin in place. “You look good Robo-buddy, not too hip on the color but the outfit itself?” He lets out a low whistle and you chuckle, giving his arm a playful punch.

“I didn’t think this is where you’d be tonight. I thought you were hanging out at home! What are you doing here?” You ask excitedly.

“Ye bro, wat r u doin here?” Marvus asks his grin sharp as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and all but pulls you from Mallek’s arms. “Dun member inviting u” He adds.

Mallek shrugs, his smile easy. “I was on the list.” He tells Marvus, Mallek’s attention turns back to you but the lights dim and a loud track begins to play before he can say anything.

Marvus leans in close to you, his lips beside your ear as he excitedly whispers, “Dis our song, buddy!” He’s pulling you along to the dance floor and you can’t help but laugh at his excitement.

It’s a fast-paced song and while you aren’t the best dancer it’s easy to follow Marvus’ lead as he spins you around the floor. You gleefully laugh as he dips you and lifts you into an aerial twirl. You gasp and grip tightly to him laughing harder as your adrenaline increases.

Marvus sets you down with your back to his chest and you can feel him starting to gyrate and grind against you. Another hand grabs your waist and spins you against a hoodie clad chest. “Cutting in.” Mallek mutters, taking a hand in yours and all but waltzing you away from a frowning Marvus. You’re a little dizzy from the twirling and rising heat of the room so you don’t protest being taken from one friend by another.

You rest your head against Mallek’s chest as he rocks you both back and forth, he’s clearly a less talented dancer, and you can see him tripping over his feet a little but you appreciate his effort. It’s cute how hard he’s trying. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his hang loosely around your waist. You can hear the quietest of purrs starting in his throat and smile to yourself.

“U lookin a lil flushed dere babe, howz aboutta drink?” Marvus offers you with a glass of something in his hand, as he somehow materializes between Mallek and yourself. You’re warm and parched and gratefully take it from him with a ‘thank you.’

Your mouth is filled with the overly sweet taste of Faygo, but it’s cool and refreshing. An arm slides across your shoulders and you’re turned towards a large door. “Let’s get some air.” Mallek whispers, his hand slipping to your lower back as he leads you towards the balcony.

Getting some air sounds nice and you’re happy to get a fresh breath. As you make your way the songs change to a much slower track. A gentle tap at your shoulder has you turning in Mallek’s arm to face Marvus again.

“Can I get one more dance b4 u go out?” Marvus asks, his hand falling from your shoulder to your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. Your heart strings are pulled as Marvus pouts and you can’t help but give in.

“Alright, one more dance. Then a break!” You tell him, smiling.

Marvus grins and places his free hand over his heart. “Itz a promise.”

“I’ll be back in a bit if you want to wait out there.” You tell Mallek who’s frowning. He quickly changes his expression when he realizes you’re looking at him and smiles.

“Of course. Have fun.” Mallek teases.

You shake your head and smile as you allow Marvus to bring you back to the dance floor.

Marvus has a hand low on your waist and holds the other as he takes you both across the floor with wide motions. You smile and let the music and Marvus lead you along. You can feel Marvus pulling you closer to him, so your chests are against one another’s.

Marvus tilts his head so his lips are beside your ear. “Gotta ax u sumthin babe.” Marvus says, his other hand slipping to also hold tightly to your waist. “Been thinkin abt u a lot an wanna kno if u wanna be a mofo’s ma-”

AAHHHT AAHHT DEEPDEEPDEEPDEEP AAHHT AAHHT

The alarm that goes off is deafening, the lights go out and a dark red light floods the room with intermittent flashes of a blinding white light. A loud automated voice demands evacuation. You look around as best you can, hands covering your ears as your eyes strain to make out the shapes around you. The flashing of the lights begins to make you feel dizzy and you think you may pass out.

You feel strong hands grab your arms and jump, a familiar voice in your ear tells you to relax and that it’s time to go. You desperately cling to whoever it is as they pull you towards what you assume is the exit.

When you make it outside of the building you feel your body relaxing. A solid pair of arms are still holding you close and you grip the shirt of your savior. “You doing ok?” You hear them ask in a gentle voice. You feel yourself relax completely as you look up, and though your vision is blurred, you can easily make out the shape of Mallek’s face.

You nod and bury your face in his chest. “I’m alright, kust can’t see.” You say with a chuckle. You feel Mallek’s chest shake with laughter. “I think I’ll survive though.” You tell him.

“You will, you’re the strongest person I know.” He says quietly, claws lightly rubbing up and down your back. “Want to recover at my hive? Snake dad will be happy to have you.”

You let out a small hum and nod against him. “That sounds nice, thanks.” You pull away and smile at him, your vision slowly returning. You look beyond him and see Marvus talking to a group of people. He’s still smiling but you know him well enough now to see the distant look of disappointment in his eyes. “I just gotta say good-bye.” You tell Mallek, lightly pushing away and5moving towards Marvus.

As you approach, Marvus’ smile loses a little luster but it seems sincerer in its sadness. “Hey, babe.” He greets quietly, a hand movingto muss your hair.

You smile up at him and take his hand from your head to hold between your palms. “Sorry your party got busted. I know you were excited about it.”

Marvus sighs and nods. “No big thang, u kno sumtimez sheet jus dun work.”

“Yeah but…still sucks. You going to be ok? Want me to stay and help or anything?”

Marvus shakes his head no. “Got plenty-o-peeps to do deh work, u dig?” He gives your hands a squeeze and presses his forehead to yours. “Thnks tho, appreciate u, lil babe.”

Your face heats up at the closeness and you nod. “Call me if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

Marvus nods, you can feel his grease paint rubbing against your skin. He holds eye contact for a moment before his eye lids start to lower, his head begins to tilt and you aren’t sure how to react or what to think.

“Ready to go?”Mallek’s hands are on your shoulders and lightly pulling you away from the tall clown.

“Um…yeah” You mutter, throat dry. “Bye Marv.” You wave to the purple blood and follow Mallek’s instructions to where his scuttle buggy is waiting.

As Mallek turns to walk away as well, he’s stopped by a harsh tap on his arm.

“Yo! Hacker boi.”

“Information specialist.” Mallek snaps with an angry tone, turning to face Marvus mid-step.

Marvus snorts and rolls his eyes, setting Mallek with a hard stare, his grin less lazy and decidedly more dangerous. “Dat wuz a real buldjrodd move back dere.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marvus scoffs, his face setting into a heavy frown. “Buddy may be goin wit u 2nite, but dun b 4gettin who dey finna b seein those red heartz wit.”

“Me.” Mallek hisses, his hard glare betraying the easy going smirk he’d set back into place.

Marvus lets out a loud honking laugh. “Got mad respek for ur confidence, but gotta let a brother kno when he dedd wrong. Messiahs b on my mofxxkin side. Wat u got skinny blue?”

Mallek opens his mouth to speak but your voice rings out, calling his name and waving him towards you. Mallek’s grin turns sly as he winks at Marvus. “They’re what I got.”

#mod caity #hiveswap marvus #hiveswap mallek #mallek adalov #marvus xoloto

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abundantchewtoys · 5 years

Text

HS Epi: Meat p21 reaction

So, Dave, huh?

Doesn't seem as if Dirk is expecting him to fall unconscious too from the looks of it.

But that doesn't mean that he might not. It depends on who's really behind the condition, Dirk or Alternate Calliope.

You'd think Dave might get called by Roxy when they can't wake Jade up, but that might happen in the latter half of the page.

It's notable that Dirk even as almost omniscient narrator seems harried to continue acknowledging certain scenes. As if he fears he might be influenced.

"DAVE: holy shit thats disgusting KARKAT: DON’T BE A FUCKING XENOPHOBE DAVE: im not being a xenophobe" Yeah Dave, be more sensitive towards the people whose body image is celestial. :P

"Karkat doesn’t respond immediately. He shuffles his feet to the edge of the outcropping they’re standing on and stares down at the brood pit, where the Mother Grub of Earth C is squelching out unfertilized jelly." :O They actually left their hive! And they're meeting up with Kanaya! So... yeah, didn't think we'd require further indulging into the reproductive cycle of trolls, we had TMI already, but here we are. :P Jelly to go into the slurry, unfertilized like fish eggs. Joy.

"No answer. This silence makes Dave actually back up for three seconds and think about what the hell just came out of his mouth." Karkat's just distracted, thinking of something else or looking for Kanaya, I suspect, but Dave goes reading too much into it.

"Dave could definitely be handling this situation with a certain measure of restraint or grace. But he’s got my genes, so he decides to handle it a different way than that." Well, Dirk did say he owned his own faults. He wasn't lying.

"DAVE: but im almost as passionate about this troll speciesism thing as i am about the economy which you may not have known is my number one" Heh, Dave's really getting worked up about this, assuming he came over poorly.

"Karkat still doesn’t answer. He’s staring real intently at the jelly." He doesn't spot any mutations, by chance?

"KARKAT: HEY DIPSHIT, SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE. KARKAT: I’M NOT IGNORING YOU BECAUSE I’M MAD. DAVE: what DAVE: that wasnt what i KARKAT: I KNOW THAT YOU PERISH LIKE A DELICATE LILAC BLOOM IN THE FUCKING DESERT IF NOT SHOWERED WITH MY VERBAL ATTENTION AT ALL TIMES. KARKAT: BUT I’M KIND OF WITNESSING THE REBIRTH OF MY ENTIRE FUCKING SPECIES RIGHT HERE. KARKAT: YOU EVER THINK THAT THIS MIGHT BE A MONUMENTAL MOMENT FOR ME?" Wow, this is actually really much more like the Karkat we're used to hearing rants from.

I can definitely understand he feels some very heavy feelings right now, since everything that happened in the A2 session and after has lead to this moment. So I'm definitely allowing Karkat a measure of solemnness, and perhaps even feeling proud and aloof at the achievement.

"Dave comes to the edge of the outcropping, standing shoulder to shoulder with Karkat as he too observes the majesty of translucent goo getting birthed out of an alien asshole." So majestic. I'm definitely getting "Mufasa showing Simba the Pride Lands" vibes from this scene. :P

"KARKAT: WHAT PART OF THIS IS DISGUSTING? KARKAT: IS IT THE SLOW DEFLATING OF ITS DISTENDED ABDOMEN? KARKAT: THE SOUND OF DOZENS OF SEGMENTED LEGS CLACKING AGAINST ITS EXOSKELETON? KARKAT: THE UNFERTILIZED SLURRY BEING SLOWLY SQUEEZED FROM ITS OVIPOSITIONAL SPHINCTER? KARKAT: IS THAT IT? IS THAT DISGUSTING TO YOU DAVE? DAVE: kind of KARKAT: ... KARKAT: YOU’RE RIGHT KARKAT: IT’S HORRIBLE" You know when people sum up three items, the third one is often the most important one. :P And yeah, I figure Karkat can still see how horrific this is even as a troll himself. We know how much he could get grossed out by Equius' sweat and strongly voiced his dissent, and this is a whole new level of excrements.

"KANAYA: Im Sorry But I Can Hear You From Down Here" Kanaya has excellent hearing, being able to discern their blabbering from all the squelching and clacking. It might the rainbow drinker abilities.

"She’s glowing. Her skin, I mean." Yes, we already established she and Rose would adopt, if they'd ever go for progeny, if Rose can be convinced. :P

"Kanaya steps out from beneath the canopy where she was doing grub science, wiping her hands on a silk cloth." It's cool to see Kanaya do such a Jade-like activity! It's actually quite logical that her kind would be well versed in biology, given their strong dependence on the grub for (biological) reproduction.

"Her mood can be politely described as pensive." ... Something might be bothering her. A lack of donations, so far? It's not as if the imperial drone system will be set again, right? Depends on how they did things on Beforus, which she might shed light on. ... Figuratively.

"DAVE: whats shaking sis KANAYA: Must You Always Call Me That DAVE: nah but it does feel pretty rad to say DAVE: like wow my sister in law is an alien how" Pffff, yeah, that's right! Well, that's the first time someone besides Calliope (and Joey) is called sis! What'd that make Karkat to Rose? :P Since he has ties to both Kanaya and Dave.

"DAVE: i love our awesome planet where everyone is free to form xenophilic family units without fear of government interference or reprisal" That's an odd thing to say, but okay.

"Karkat pauses to imitate a very common Davism that involves two hands and a double-wrist swivel. It’s an incredibly good imitation, because he sees this particular bit of body language like ten times a day." ... Does Dave make a jazz hands signal when he's trying to change the subject? :D

"KARKAT: IT’S THE STUPIDEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN AND YOU DO IT LIKE TEN TIMES A DAY." ... Is Karkat picking that up from the narration, unconsciously?

"DAVE: im dropping a beat DAVE: like im using a turntable and scratching one song into another" ... Well then, less dorky and more related to his interests than I thought.

"KARKAT: IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO FOLD LAUNDRY YOU FORGOT TO IRON." At this point both he and Dave have forgotten Kanaya's presence. :P

"KANAYA: So This Is About The Election KARKAT: AH." She was expecting them. I wonder if they'll get as much an evasive answer as Roxy and Calliope gave Jade.

"KANAYA: I Do Get The Internet Down Here" Pretty good reception though! 'The Internet', such a Kanaya-ism.

"KANAYA: I Am Impressed That You Managed To Be Seen In Front Of That Many People Without Spontaneously Bursting Into Flames" So he gave a public statement! Nice.

"KARKAT: WOW THANKS, ANOTHER VOTE OF CONFIDENCE FROM ONE OF MY DEAREST FRIENDS." Yeah, well, your speeching days are kind of behind you, and even then it was only in front of 12 people, she may or may not have a point.

"KARKAT: THIS CONDESCENSION IS REALLY RICH COMING FROM THE PERSON WHO DECIDED HER NARCISSISTIC OBSESSION WITH BEING THE ONE TO HATCH THE MOTHER GRUB WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN NOT SEEDING OUR PLANET WITH A STOPGAP SYSTEM OF REPRODUCTION THAT WOULD CAUSE SYSTEMIC SPECIESISM TO OSSIFY INTO SOCIETY FOR 5000 YEARS." Pfff, Karkat already mentioned he discussed these topics so often with Kanaya over the phone. It'll be interesting to hear her retort.

"KANAYA: But I Do Not Think It Is Productive To Attribute These Resultant Troubles To A Single Decision Or Individual KANAYA: It Stands In The Way Of Our Efforts To Address Them KARKAT: MMNNNRRRGHHH......... DAVE: (shhhhhh)" I like this, Kanaya's right in absolving herself at least in part of the blame for the end result. Karkat is doing wonders in restraining himself from shouting. Dave is shooshing Karkat.

"KAYANA: You Know As Well As I Do That We Must Present A United Front" Yeah, that'd be best to not cause societal upheaval. But they're not doing a good job already of course, running two different campaigns.

"KANAYA: I Have Nothing But The Utmost Faith In You" ... is the new "I believe in you".

"Kanaya reaches out to put a hand on Karkat’s head. He doesn’t duck away in time, and she gives him an affectionate, matronly hair-ruffle between his horns." I love how Kanaya's motherly/sisterly feelings towards Karkat manifest sometimes. :D *pap pap good crab*

"KANAYA: While I Know That It Is Difficult For You To Take A Direct Compliment KANAYA: I Have In The Past Put My Faith In You When The Threat To Our Survival Has Been Immediate And Literal KANAYA: Its Basically Nothing To Ask Me To Do It Again Now That The Threat Is Far More ... KANAYA: *Existential*" Awww. Yeah, she always was one of his closest confidantes. Even going through with the trolling of the kids when she didn't feel like it would be that effective. And she's right, the dangers now are far more vague.

"KANAYA: Is How I Think I Shall Put It KANAYA: If We Are Going To Be Polite" ... And personal, I guess, since they come from within their own group. (Let's be honest, the trolls were a team but not a cohesive one. In that regard, the players on Earth C are far more kin.

"Dave is watching her, but Karkat’s looking contemplatively at his entwined hands. Kanaya’s right: it’s almost excruciating for him to take a completely unironic compliment, especially face-to-face, like what she just said to him. I understand this about Karkat. It’s one of the precious few things he and I have in common." Well, it stands to reason that if Karkat has a lot in common with Dave, he'd have a lot in common with Dirk too! But maybe some of those things are not part of the same set.

"We internalize and project the quality in very different ways, however, which is why I’m going to win." Here goes Dirk again, assuming he's the real leader on his side. He assumes his way of dealing with compliments will make him come off better, but he might just seem arrogant.

"KANAYA: Jane Has Been Here To Speak With Me Recently In Fact" Oh! I actually figured the issue was being discussed over the heads of the actual people impacted by a decision. ... Like is so often the case on our own Earth.

"KANAYA: You Know I Do Like Jane KANAYA: In Some Regards She Reminds Me Of A Friend We Had Who Sadly Did Not Survive Our Time On The Meteor" Feferi?

"KANAYA: She Was Unfailingly Kind To Everyone She Met But She Also Happened To Be The Heiress To The Throne Of A Vast And Bloody Empire" Aww. We didn't have much interaction between them, but it seems she held Feferi in high regard. It would have been a different empire under her. Different from Beforus as well, since the troll race had been influenced so severely by Doc Scratch and )(IC by then already.

"KANAYA: And While She Had A Lot Of Opinions On Reform She Had Already Wrenched Some Of Her Power From Our Last Empress In The Traditional Manner" Via the lusus. That might be her reasoning behind waiting until after the time skip to hatch the Grub. For the bond that would form between troll and grub. Maybe she felt she alone could handle the responsibility, or she craved a little sliver of that contact she lossed with her own custodian.

"Karkat finally looks up at the description of one of their many dead friends." Yeah, this would surely stir something with him as well.

"She rests an ear against the rise of its massive stomach, then taps the shell with two perfectly manicured fingernails." That calls back to when she got the matriorb out from her dead lusus' body.

"KANAYA: By Which I Mean That Jane Is Perfectly Pleasant And I Believe That She Has Only The Best Of Intentions KANAYA: But I Cant Shake The Feeling That Deep Inside Her Lurks The Potential For Despotism" Yeah, we know how it could have manifested in Feferi from Beforus.

"KARKAT: OKAY I GET WHY YOU GUYS KEEP CALLING JANE A CRYPTO-FASCIST KARKAT: BUT FUCKING FEFERI? SHE WAS HARMLESS. KANAYA: These Things Take Time To Gestate Karkat DAVE: damn" Dave is impressed by Kanaya's political analysis.

"KANAYA: Power Corrupts In Small Steps KANAYA: Compromises KANAYA: Concessions KANAYA: Appeasements KANAYA: And Leaders Follow The Example Set For Them KANAYA: Look At What Jane Has Modeled Herself After Already" So maybe the situation on Beforus wasn't Feferi's doing single-handedly, just a situation that grew and grew over millennia. A goal reached by means bartered over, the result corrupted in the process of achieving it.

I don't think Jane really modelled herself after the Condesce consciously, but if it's the only example of a powerful business woman she had, then of course she'd unknowingly copy some bad habits she doesn't think are bad.

"KANAYA: This Is Why I Trust You Karkat KANAYA: Because You Listen To Advice From Below And Beside You Not From Above" Plus, the Sufferer is his precedent, whether he believes in him or not. And yes, Karkat might admire achievements made by what he believes to be his betters (Vriska, Meenah, the Condesce), but he's learned not to copy their behaviour.

"DAVE: so weve got your endorsement then

She laughs, not kindly. KANAYA: Jane Offered Me “A Seat” On The “Board Of Responsible Troll Reproduction” KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK. HOW DARE SHE! KANAYA: That Is Exactly What I Said" Wow, yeah, that was definitely inconsiderate of Jane. Trolls should be the end responsible of their own reproduction, and if there's a board, there's a chairman, but as long as there's a president above either and she's human, the inequality persists.

"RECREATION SPRAWL" Troll term for park.

"KANAYA: In Case You Cant Tell I Am Actually Fucking Furious About This" Well, thanks Kanaya, I really couldn't!

"KANAYA: Our Reproduction Method Is Alien And Unfamiliar KANAYA: To A Human It Must Sound Monstrous KANAYA: Uncontrolled Even" While it wasn't, of course, there's a rhyme and reason to it. Especially considering the dangers on Alternia, a big pool of spawn to go through the trials is necessary. ... I wonder if they're going to set up new trials on Earth C, in the brooding caverns?

Come to think of it... What the grubs go through... It's kind of similar in a way to how in humans, the male sperm has to survive the trip to the egg cell.

"KARKAT: WHEN I HEAR ABOUT HOW HUMAN GRUBS CHEW THEIR WAY OUT OF THE FEMALE MATESPRIT’S ABDOMINAL HOLE BEFORE CONSUMING THE WOMB MEMBRANE IT MAKES ME WANT TO VOMIT." That's... well, a different phrasing but still close to the truth. Makes us sound like birds hatching from an egg, though.

"KANAYA: I Hope That There Is At Least One Principle We Share As A Planet KANAYA: Which Is That We Must All Work To Ensure Equal Dignity And Respect For Every Species" It's sad that in real life, so many people disagree.

"KANAYA: Otherwise KANAYA: What Was This All For

The three of them stare at the floor in adorably cartoonish synchronicity. What was this all for, indeed?" It's almost as if they're looking down to the narration, acknowledging Dirk's presence. :P

"Morality is a cultural construct. It’s pure ego for any of them to believe that their personal interpretation of it will result in the most effective laws." As for your personal interpretation, Dirk? :P

"DAVE: would you be willing to say that exactly but DAVE: like in front of a huge crowd DAVE: and also a television crew or six" She'd actually pull it off better than Karkat. Maybe she could be his press speechperson on troll subjects? :P

"KARKAT: OR MAYBE JUST IN FRONT OF JAKE ENGLISH? KANAYA: Oh Dear Has Jane Recruited Jake" The Jakestakes return. Kanaya also believes in that Jake will sway the vote.

"KANAYA: That Would Be Disastrous KANAYA: He Is Beloved In The Troll Kingdom For His Perky Ass" Why. Of all the universal constants.

"DAVE: seriously? KARKAT: I TOLD YOU IT’S NOT JUST ME! KANAYA: It Has Some Terrible Arcane Power KANAYA: I Have Never Seen Anything Like It" It's like his <3 quadrant, a black hole everything is attracted to.

"DAVE: but jane is one of his best friends so we gotta approach this with a scorched earth policy DAVE: give him a whole cadre of sob stories thatll make him feel all manly and heroic for lending his support DAVE: just gift wrapping babies for him to kiss KARKAT: TROLL BABIES EVEN? DAVE: sure that can be part of the deal he can kiss the first natural born grub right on its gooey lil head" He'd don a mayoral sash, top hat, fake moustache and monocle for the occasion, I can just picture it.

"KANAYA: Have You Spoken To Rose Yet DAVE: uh no DAVE: i mean DAVE: shes

Dave mimes laying down and taking pills. The look Kanaya gives him is neither fond nor patronizing." Very tactful, Dave, real smooth. At least Dave didn't bother Rose while she's otherwise occupied, like during the start of their session. Progress, right?

"DAVE: whats up with that anyway DAVE: are you guys uh DAVE: grub pregnant" Oh, yeah I should have figured Dave would start wildly guessing when not knowing the specifics behind the migraine.

"DAVE: cmon karkat dont you wanna be an uncle to a lil bundle of love and unnatural genetic tampering" Oh, now the baby became a genetically manipulated crossbreed. Jegus, Dave.

"DAVE: ok stop freaking out im just saying from what i understand of troll reproduction it would be technically possible for a troll and human to KANAYA: No DAVE: and with ectobiology anythings possible" Well, it's true the fandom speculated about crossbreeds, but uh, Dave is just approaching the subject from the worst angle.

"DAVE: i dunno its just unusual for rose to brush me off for our annual ecto sibling oversharing session" I would have thought they'd AT LEAST schedule it monthly, not annually. :P

"DAVE: shes been sick for a while DAVE: either shes pregnant or i got reasons to be worried" And NOW we get to the REAL reason Dave's breached the subject.

"DAVE: id be cool with it yknow DAVE: bring on the rosemary combo grubs KANAYA: Rosemary" Hah, nice! Shipping name dropped! Maybe that's what Dave thinks of them in his mind sometimes, like how "Dave and Karkat" became a concept to their friends.

"DAVE: like rose plus your last name which is maryan or something right KANAYA: Maryam" Oh Dave, inconsiderate much? :P

"DAVE: the rosemary babies would have her hair and your horns or whatever DAVE: like when two cartoon animals of different species give in to their lust and have preposterous children" Like what Dirk drew for Jake and Roxy.

"KANAYA: Im Going To Call My Wife And You Are Going To Stop Talking" Oh boy, here we go. Is Dirk going to answer? Making him both narrator and character at the same time? Is he going to impersonate Rose? Or will Rose unexpectedly wake up?

"Dave and Karkat bicker about what their combo kids would look like, in the event that they decided to stop being such laughable wusses" Even Dirk is rooting for them, kind of. And why would they even discuss this subject if the subject of becoming more than friends even scares them so much they don't acknowle- wait I answered my own question.

"Rose’s line rings for a long time. It’s unusual, she thinks. Rose rarely leaves her phone unattended." She rarely leaves an occasion hanging to be able to speak long sentences.

"Rose is in absolutely no condition to be having a conversation with anyone. Not even her cherished bride. DIRK: Hey," Is Dirk going to lie, I wonder. It would just be another mark against him, but a big one, as it'd be a confirmed action of malicious intent.

"Kanaya’s voice turns sharp right away. KANAYA: Excuse Me

She can sense that something’s wrong." Alright! He won't be able to spin the wheel on her, if he'd wish to do so.

"She’s also smart enough, and facile enough in handling questionable men" - right, Doc Scratch.

"to understand that she quickly needs to regulate the tone of her voice for diplomatic purposes. KANAYA: Dirk KANAYA: Is That You" Not fooling him at all, Kanaya, he knows you know it's him. This turned almost into a call with a hostage-holder.

"I don’t answer immediately. I’m distracted by something." His own narration, or something happening to Rose? ... Or perhaps... Perhaps Dirk is making contact with Reload Dirk, if he still exists. It would be something if he lost touch with Earth C for a while.

Perhaps it's more like what Blaperile thinks, Dirk is being distracted by events in the Furthest Ring, leading up to the upcoming perspective switch.

"She really should chill out, anyway. I’ve got everything under control. Not that she’ll ever be able to fully appreciate this." Well that's the understatement of the year. Kanaya would never forgive him, and it's only questionable if a lot of his other friends will. It'll dependent on further developments.

"I don’t have time to explain right now. John’s doing something vaguely important to the plot again." You'd think that what we last saw, John and the wallet, is where we'd continue his scene. But maybe Dirk fastforwarded his narration of John (he showed off at one point and let him spend a few hours, remember?), and now Rose's timeline caught up.

But this means Dirk's currently not in a state to answer Kanaya, but what does that mean? Is he going to freeze with Rose's phone in hand for a few hours, or has he broken off the call to "write" the narration?

"DIRK: Kanaya, I don’t have time to explain right now." That's not an acceptable answer for her and you know it. Unless he has her fall unconscious, too, Dave and Karkat and her are going to come over!

"DIRK: John’s doing something vaguely important to the plot again." Wow, he actually repeated his narration into the phone. He really doesn't control his situation as much as he thinks.

"KANAYA: Dirk... KANAYA: What DIRK: This is gonna have to wait. KANAYA: Dirk DIRK: I’m putting you on hold, ok? KANAYA: DIRK!" "Putting you on hold", pfffff. It's a personal cliffhanger for Kanaya. At least he's partially outed himself to the other people now. Unless he can continue his conversation with her with a 'reasonable' delay of only a few seconds from her perspective, and then proceeds to smoothly talk around what he told her, with his narration powers influencing her to drop the subject.

#homestuck #upd8 #reaction #spoiler alert #homestuck epilogues #homestuck liveblog #kanaya maryam #mother grub

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weltratsel · 6 years

Text

[Article] Only the bright commit suicide

By Sean Thomas // January 16 2004, 12:00am, The Times

Does a controversial theory linking intelligence with suicide rates help to explain why so many scientists kill themselves?

The past few months have seen a series of notable suicides by scientists. Yesterday we heard details of the strange pact in which Dr Michael Griffin and his wife Adele took their lives in a Devon hotel. Two days before that, Harold Shipman killed himself. Early this month the body of Richard Stevens, a haematologist, was found in the Lake District; we await the Hutton report into the suicide of Dr David Kelly.

These are disparate cases: no one seeks to associate a mass murderer with a blameless government scientist or a troubled consultant physician. Yet these men had things in common: they were intelligent and analytical, with similar educational backgrounds. Could there be a theme that helps to explain their suicides?

Writers, psychologists and philosophers have long argued over the reasons for suicide. The problem they all face is that statistics on the subject are notoriously slippery. Take seasonal variations. Some people claim that suicide is related to climate and light, and especially to “the winter blues”. It is true that suicidal thoughts reach a peak in January (when the Samaritans get most calls). Yet in the West the peak months for actual suicide attempts are, universally, the spring and summer months of April, May and June (the only geographical exception is the Antipodes, where suicide rates peak in their late spring: November and December).

The deeper you dig, the more confusing it gets. More women claim to have depressed or suicidal feelings, yet more men commit the deed. Could it be, as some scientists argue, that this is because men are less averse to violence, even self-inflicted? There are further complexities: how do we explain the surreal fact that immediately after Marilyn Monroe’s suicide, rates of self-murder in the US rose by 12 per cent? Or that suicide attempts are most common at both extremes of the adult age range, ie, among over-65s and those in their teens and twenties? Or that suicide rates can fall dramatically when the means become less accessible (as happened in Britain when we switched from lethal coke gas to less dangerous natural gas)?

The subject is a swirl of conflicting data into which only the bravest of scientists will venture to step. One who has is Martin Voracek, a researcher at the University of Vienna Medical School. In a paper to be published in the next few months, the psychologist makes a claim that may shed some light on those suicides of scientists. His startling theory is that suicide can be positively correlated with intelligence — in other words, the smarter people are, the more likely they are to kill themselves.

Voracek’s starting point is the fact that suicide is a growing problem in the Western world: someone commits suicide in America every 15 minutes, and the World Health Organisation claims that suicide accounts for at least 2 per cent of Western deaths. The rate of suicide in parts of Sweden has risen by 250 per cent in the past 40 years.

Most sociologists have argued that this is because of the so-called anomie of modern Western life — that something in urbanised, industrialised society alienates us from friends, faith and family, the mainstays of human happiness. Voracek, though, argues that the higher rate of Western suicide could be because people are, on average, more intelligent in the Western world (and are apparently becoming more intelligent still, as worldwide average IQs rise over time — something called the Flynn effect).

To back up his theory, Voracek has taken the controversial tables of national average IQ values published recently by Professor Richard Lynn and his colleague at the University of Ulster, Tatu Vanhanen. But instead of correlating these IQ levels with national GDP per head (as, provocatively, Lynn and Vanhanen have), Voracek has compared the various IQ averages with national suicide rates.

The results are, prima facie, impressive: there is a strong correlation between suicide rates and national average IQ in most of the countries surveyed. For instance, Jamaica, with a low average IQ of 72, has suicide rates of 0.5 for men and 0.2 for women (all suicide figures are per 100,000 person-years). Albania, with an average IQ of 90, has low suicide rates of 2.9 and 1.7. Germany by contrast, with its average IQ of 102, has suicide rates of 21.8 and 8.3; Japan, with an average IQ of 105, has suicide rates of 25 and 12.

Wherever you look, and whatever the culture, the same pattern can be seen: in Azerbaijan, Greece, Kuwait and Chile there are lower average IQ levels and lower suicide rates; in Austria, Korea, Singapore and Norway there are higher average IQ levels and higher suicide rates. One exception is the UK, with a relatively high average IQ (100) and a relatively low (at least for the West) suicide rate — 11 for men and 3.3 for women.

The obvious objection to these statistics is that suicide rates still have nothing to do with brains and everything to do with industrialisation, affluence and modernity — that advanced capitalist societies are less nurturing of the troubled soul. Yet Voracek insists that he has “partialed out” the variables of wealth, rate of divorce, unemployment and average age. He says that even when you make these factors statistically irrelevant, there is still a correlation between national IQ and the rate of self-murder.

Voracek also cites something called the Terman Genetic Study of Genius. This was a study of the entire life cycles of 1,528 gifted Californian children born in 1920-21. One of many fascinating facts revealed by the Terman study was that the suicide rate among these super-bright individuals was 33 per 100,000 person-years — about three times the average rate for the US (which is, anyway, fairly high on a global ranking).

So why should there be such an apparently strong connection between intelligence and suicide? Voracek points to a 1981 study by Denys deCatanzaro, a Canadian evolutionary psychologist. In his research, deCatanzaro posited the idea that for suicide to take place, a certain threshold of self-awareness, of intelligence, must be crossed. Such higher intelligence could only be human, hence the rarity if not impossibility of animal “suicide”.

DeCatanzaro went on to suggest that from an evolutionary perspective — excepting certain religious beliefs and military scenarios — almost the only time it could make Darwinian “sense” for someone to commit suicide was when they became aware, or wrongly convinced, that they were probably not going to have more or any children, and/or that they were becoming a burden to kin who might otherwise go on to have children.

It is a reductionist viewpoint but a powerful one — and using these concepts, Voracek wonders whether anyone who can achieve such a critical and lucid self-analysis is simply more likely to be smart.

But deCatanzaro, though he has yet to read Voracek’s paper, rejects the Voracek theory. For a start, the Canadian thinks that comparative IQ studies such as those of Lynn and Vanhanen are clumsy and “could be viewed as racist”.

DeCatanzaro believes instead that suicide-rate differentials are explainable by — yes — modernity and industrialisation. He adds that there are, anyway, huge problems with national suicide-rate comparisons because the methods and reliability of data collection are so different. Authorities in Roman Catholic countries, for example, are loath to condemn anyone to Hell for the mortal sin of self-murder; hence, perhaps, the low rates of recorded suicide in Latin America.

In this argument deCatanzaro is backed up by Dr Rory O’Connor, senior lecturer in health psychology at the University of Stirling and head of its suicidal behaviour research group.

Dr O’Connor likewise rejects the intelligence/suicide thesis, and also cites the case of Roman Catholicism. “Look at Ireland,” says O’Connor. “Suicide rates have exploded there in the past 40 years. In part this is because suicide has got more common, but even more important is the fact that the manner of recording suicide has changed, has become more assiduous, and this is because the religious culture has changed. Voracek’s thinking is very problematic. Suicide is multi-factorial.”

Yet there is some support for Voracek’s suicide/smartness correlation. Dr Keith Ashcroft, a forensic psychologist based in Manchester, notes that “suicide is indeed more common among the professional classes: scientists like vets and dentists have notoriously high suicide rates”.

In fact, Ashcroft has a telling theory of his own. He thinks that “emotional intelligence” is relevant to the IQ/suicide question. Ashcroft wonders whether people with very high IQs might tend to have lower emotional intelligence — ie, inferior “people skills”. After all, everyone is aware of the cliché of the lonely genius, unable to fit in with society, who is eventually driven to suicide by his isolation.

It is certainly a plausible image. But given the swirl of conflicting facts, and the sensitivities of the entire subject, perhaps the only thing we should say assuredly is that we need a lot more research.

#article #suicide #intelligence #death #science #modernity

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khoumele-blog · 7 years

Text

Hispa

-Mom, where do we come from?

I wanted to say from my vagina but this was my child, the cherished treasure that once lived in my womb.

The life I created and carried, protected and loved before I could lay eyes on her. Her soft brown eyes looked at me, troubled.

I knew what she was asking, a simple question and yet a complicated one and my answer would likely shape who she would become.

So I looked into her soft brown, so like mine.

I sat her down on the kitchen chair, the kitchen island separating us.

I looked outside the window, leaning on the counter. It was a beautiful day, warm and bright.

- Babygirl, I said. I love you. You know that don't you. I love you so much. You are so pretty and so smart.

- Pretty like you mommy?

- Yes babygirl, even prettier and so precious.

I walked to the fridge and took out eggs and milk.

- Let me tell you about us, I said as I reached for the flour and baking soda the cinnamon and the brown sugar.

We are descendants of the first people.

- Like the first first people?

- Yes dear the first people. You see, the earth, Gaia was getting old, she needed people to take care of her. So from her onyx depths she created people, they came from her womb, tiny little creatures. She gave them each a part of her to take care of, Antarctica, Africa, Asia, America Europe and Oceania. They each took care of her for years. Tended to her garden, took care of her other children’s, the animals, the various creatures and critters. They worked hard, day in day out. Bathed by the sunshine and lulled by the moon. Shaded by the trees and foliage. Sustained by the fruits and water and various nutrients from plants and at times a passing animal. With time, they became bigger, better, smarter. Gaia's children had children and some started wandering to the farthest ends, curious to see if others lived nearby. So some traveled for days by foot, settled on new lands, some strayed some wandered some more in search of their long lost brothers or sisters. And slowly, from generation to generation they got further and further until they met with their brethren. And when they did meet, they were amazed at how they looked different from one another. Some were lighter, their hair straighter, some were taller, shorter, wider thinner, some had eyes shaped like almonds, and other had skin like red clay. Some were as dark as precious stones and had hair with tight protective curls. All were beautiful and Gaia was content with the order of things, her children were growing strong, improving upon generations, taking care of her, taking care of her.

-You see Hispa for years Gaia and her children grew luscious and plentiful, I explained as I prepared my batter and reached for the electric mixer.

-But what about now mommy?

-Well Hispa for centuries all went well but year after year, with more and more humans, Gaia’s children started forgetting where they came from and how to go about things, her children started fighting amongst each other, some became greedy and wanted more land than they needed and started harming their brethren.

-Oh no mommy why?

-I don't know Hispa, I guess some were not satisfied and wanted more than they could have. But with more land came more responsibilities and some of her children did not want to work. So they created hierarchies amongst each other, declared themselves above others, ruled over their kin and declared their children superior. As time passed they forgot they were all kin and forgot about their founding mothers, the first Daughters of Gaia. They created kingdoms and empires, fought and killed, pillaged and burned the Earth. They fought and fought some more, for years, decades and centuries. They forgot about each other, grew greedy and lost precious knowledge. They hunted animals for fun, burned forest, ruining the gifts of Gaia. They made silly laws to protect the rich and invented rules to numb those who weren’t as wicked and greedy, to keep them in line. But one day the children of Europe started wondering about what or whom resided on the other side of the deep blue waters they knew, and for years they made boats to attempt a voyage to the farthest end of earth, they traveled for days, got sick, lost too many to count to the capricious weather conditions.

-But mommy why did they want to leave their homes?

I paused and mixed the batter, signaled to my baby to grab our koala bear shapped muffin moulds. As she placed them carefully on the counter, her chubby little fingers clumsy, I poured the batter into the mould and put our treats into the oven. I never preheat, I really should. I started the oven and sat next to her and answered:

- Because they were greedy and were looking to expand their territories and get richer. So they kept trying and trying, and sometimes they would find a new land and they would claim it, unbeknown to the original inhabitants. Sometimes they would kill the people or they would declare them subordinate to their kingdom and make them work for them. But one day, they traveled to the land of America’s children. The land was still wild, beautiful, the children of Europe had long forgotten about the wilderness and were scared, not understanding how to interact, behave in such vastness. So they did what they would do home, they burned and killed and declared the people subordinate to their kingdom. They realized that the people from the land were welcoming and they took advantage of the language barrier and their lack of knowledge of Europe’s technological savvy and they killed, knowingly riddled the people with European diseases and subjugated them to their ways. They chased and killed them until they humanly couldn’t justify it and then they imposed their ways of thinking, tried to erase their culture, tried to quench their will and alienate them from their families.

-Is that where we are from mommy?

-No sweetie, you see when Europe’s children were done with America’s people they brought in the children of Africa. For while they were mistreating America’s children, they had also traveled to the land of Africa and encountered her ebony children. Yet again, they did what they would do home, they enslaved or killed and declared the people subordinate to their kingdom. They realized that the people from the land were welcoming and they took advantage of the language barrier and their lack of knowledge of Europe’s technological savvy and they enslaved the people of the sun and brought them to the land of America. Days in, days out, the children of the sun sang, they sang soulful songs, in various languages. Songs from the land they had been severed from. The only remnant they could hold on to. So they sang, and sang some more as the whip of hatred and greed fell upon their back, scorched their lineage for decades leaving behind scars embedded in generations to come. But the children of America and the children of Africa shared a common respect for their Mother Gaia and recognized in each other a kinship. They sometimes assisted each other in escaping the cruelty of Europe’s children. As time passed, there were fewer and fewer of America’s children. The few that were left hung to their way of life as hard as they could like trees withstanding strong winds, they took strength in their roots, grounding the few they had left, kept their faith intact and their language alive. Africa’s children spent decades under the harsh European descendant ruling. Building a new impoverished America. As the year past, they slowly learned the ways of Europe’s children, learning the language, loosing theirs. They slowly lost their knowledge of nature, their connection to land and animals. Europe’s children kept taking Africa’s children and brought them onto land they would rename and wrongly claim. They brought them to one of the biggest islands there is and held them captive, forced them into slavery and atrocities too many. Africa's children gathered and sang, gathered and cried and when their tears dried their song changed and they chanted warrior chants, danced warrior dances and marched in the night, their skin glistening under the moon's watchful gaze. They marched with stealth and sang from their throat, a low silent, heavy sound. They picked up rocks and sticks, tools and such and marched upon Europe's children. They spared none, reclaiming their bodies, their right to llife. They marched onto Europe's children aided by the moonlight, the sould of their dead brothers and sister guiding their hands as they reclaimed life through death. Europe's children scattered and fled back to their motherland, regrouped and tried to bring the shackles back onto their ebony brethren but it was too late. Africa's children had had enough, they no longer trusted, no longer feared. Violence begets violence and their minds were filled. They gained their freedom through blood and tears and helped their brethren do the same in surrounding islands and distant lands. It is said Europe's children cursed that land but still she stands. The children of the island all know deep down, resilience is their legacy and freedom their right. And that is who we are babygirl, we are descended from a very old people. A very proud people, at night when you are scared, quiet your mind and breathe, listen to the drum beat of your heart, hear the fight that boils in your veins. Your soul is one of many, part of a whole. If you listen you will hear the lulling humming of our ancestors guiding you through your hurdles. You is smart, you is strong, you is beautiful. Never forget that.

The oven beeped, our muffins were ready.

-So I am strong mommy?

-Yes babygirl the strongest. Sometimes it won't feel that way but breathe and remember you are not alone, remember who we are. The first and the strongest.

As I slid the oven mits on and opened the oven to remove our muffins I added:

-Remember to always treat the next person as nice as you can, for in the end they are your brothers and sisters. Don't let them harm you and don't harm them. You only fight for your rights.

-Do I have the right to get a muffin?

-Humm I answered, I don't know, how bad do you want one, I asked with a smile.

-I’ll tickle fight you for one.

And chubby fingers tickled me and I surrendered to the motherly bliss. And like her ancestors, my tiny warrior danced arround muffin in hand, chanting victory. And as she danced and sang I saw in her 213 years of resilient souls and felt at peace. She would make it. So I grabbed a muffin and danced and chanted the silly dance and song that centuries of warriors had fought for.

#blackgirlmagic #storytelling

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