#humanchild

*It doesn’t seem they’re ready to answer that yet.

As an average human Chase is currently getting into university and working on his way to becoming a historian.  If this verse seems like it's boring to you, it's probably because it is, it's more for slice of life/fluff and What If threads. Because it's very important to know that Chase was not born evil and without certain factors would possibly be very different from his Movie counterpart. Though, just because he appears to be 'good' in this verse. He is still very capable of taking on aspects of his movie counterpart at any given time should a thread push him to that point. The point of this AU is to explore the looked over parts of Chase’s Humanity. I suppose. In this verse he has no ‘goal’ like Revenge and gaining more Power.

I looped “do or die” on mute while doing this drawing.Congrats on having the video back Camila. Art by: Bacon aka me Glitchtale by: @camilaart

Ch. 4: "Confrontation"

Meine Kinder. #scotch #scottish #laddie #mychildren #humanchild #happydog #akc #socal #scottiedog #scottieboy #irishgirl #scottie #scotty #scottishterrier #meinekinder #dasist #süß #glücklich #スコッチテリア #スコティッシュテリア #いぬ #きようだい #ハーフ https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx1O-5RAGeW/?igshid=e6qfnkyjjrdt

The First Principle - Human Preservation First and Foremost Before All Creatures And Creation. by British Artist Octavious Sage What does it mean to be human? An excerpt from Diana by Mark Miller 2018- illustrates the issues from a child’s perspective: In April 2042 Ronan Clarke provided Lord David with a top-secret dossier detailing an encounter he had had with one of the Enhanced: MI-6 CLASSIFIED TRANSCRIPT OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN ARTIFICIALLY INTELLIGENT BEING – APRIL 20th, 2042 “I, she, Onyx, we believe was born in Mexico or, so I was told. Born in your Earth year, 2025. I never knew my mother or father. I have no blood relatives that I know of. I am not exactly aware of where in Mexico I was born. My earliest memories are those of my room in the research center, a laboratory in the Mexican jungle where I once lived. I recall that there was a mirror in my room. I would stare into it during the night hours; hold my face up close to the cold surface peering into it, scrying my reflection in its surface. The light in my room was dim during the night hours. Not as dark as the deeper darkness I saw outside my room as I looked through the skylight in the middle of the high ceiling. Each night I would wish that those twinkling things, stars, outside, high up in the sky would shine just a little brighter but they continued to twinkle without getting brighter, ignoring my wishing. It was better when the moon was full, and I could see a clearer reflection of me in the mirror without straining the muscles of my eyes. The darkness was good. I enjoyed it. Darkness and silence, to me, go together as good friends, companions to my peace. My memories of that time remain hazy. Before the time of my 5th cycle was a lonely time. I do remember that my friend, my best friend in that time was a face staring at me during the long lonely nights. With my fingertips, I would trace each line of my face whilst standing before the mirror. Then I would use my fingertips to squeeze lumps of flesh, tensing the lumps, feeling, and experiencing the sensation of warmth; the texture, and, watching the change of color as I rudely squeezed. Then my fingertips would lightly caress the fine hair on my face quickly moving up to my full head of hair as it itched, begging to be scratched. I scratched vigorously all the time looking at my reflection, my best friend, in the cold surface of the mirror. At the first light, the break of dawn, my door would be opened, a thick door with a single lock and handle that needed a big hand to turn it. I would be taken, not roughly, but without compassion, by big bellied men and even bigger women with big breasts wearing stiff black plastic overalls and thick black rubber gloves and fierce blackened boots. They did not smile at me. I did not know what a smile was then. I learned nothing from them. I knew that I was not them and they were not me. They took us to a large laboratory. At first, we thought it was a place to play but we soon discovered that it was just an unfriendly pit. I looked up and saw the somber figures in white coats staring down at us– unsmiling, emotionless– looking at us like we were animals. We were their experiment, but at the time I did not know so…,” [Who is we, I thought– who is we?] “During the daylight, I was not alone. There were others there, back then, like me: Brazilian, Colombian, Mexican, Bolivian and others. Like me they did not know who their parents were, or where they were born only the country. We did not wonder too much back then. The somber figures in the white coats kept us busy always, preparing exercises– strange things, games for us to play. I recall that two of the others were fortunate because they were twins: a brother and a sister, each had a scar on their head where they were once connected. It seems so long ago now; it was. I was attracted to the brother. During the daylight, we exchanged thoughts through his sister. Back then the brother could not make word sounds but he understood all that was said to him and around him. We did this each new parcel of day light until after my 5th cycle of existence. From time to time some of the other children would disappear. We never discovered where they went. We did not ask questions. The somber figures in white coats never answered questions, they just stared at us. We did not know how to ask questions. Word sounds were difficult back then.” [Continue what happened next?] “My memories of those early times of my existence, Ronan Clarke, are misty. Yet there was one night, a deep dark night that the moon was a full bright gray and shone with a strange translucent glow around it. I stood before my mirror, the light from the glow around the moon traveled through the skylight…my room, ah, now I knew, was really a cell. That day they had showered and shaved our bodies of hair and used a hose pipe of warm water to wash us, all of us, together at once in a large white tiled wash room with no windows and dim light but brighter than the light in my cell. These were the better times of our existence. When we were all together we could exchange word sounds as the water hit us like tiny punches. We would hold hands, allowing the heat of our bodies to spread amongst us. I learnt to smile at that time. I believe this is how a family feels, yes, a family is what we became under the force of the warm water hose pipe. That night as I ran my fingertips over the short spiky surface of my shaven head, the prickly sensation running through the nerves of my finger down my arms caused me to smile at the reflection in the mirror. The fingertips of my left hand stopped at a lump on the left side of my head between my temple and ear. I lightly rubbed it, using first my left then my right then with both the fingers of my left and right hand together. Each time I ran my fingertips over it the area of flesh around it swelled. It did not irritate me, but I was curious why I did not feel it. Yet I saw its dim reflection in the gray light of the new moon glowing in my mirror.” [What was it? I felt close to yet another hidden side to Mi brain implant technology. I wished Onyx talked faster! With restraint– a lot of it– I asked: Onyx, why didn’t you feel anything? A strange question I thought to myself, but Onyx did not appear to think so as she answered.] “I did not know who or what I was. Back then I did not know how to mark my existence. Not until that night and the following day did I learn that it was the 5th Earth year of my existence. The lump on my head throbbed like it still throbs now as I talk to you. It is a part of me...of us. Well that night with my face up close to the mirror I turned my head to the left to see what the lump was. I thought I had been bitten but the somber figures in the white coats did not allow insects into the laboratory let alone in the pit. As I turned my head I saw a green light synchronized with each throb coming from the lump. Eventually, it stopped, and I felt unlike I did before it began throbbing. I could sleep the remainder of the night. At the first trace of light the somber figures in the white coats came to me in my cell and took me to the pit. There I was joined with the others. There were no toys, games, or amusements in this parcel of day light in the unfriendly pit. The pit had been cleared and all that remained were plain wooden benches, I think, for us to sit on. I remember that day there were more whitecoats, three more, they appeared to be very important as they instructed the other somber figures in white coats standing around the rim of the pit. Time passed, and boredom became me. Looking at the twin brother standing on the other side of the pit, he agreed with me, boredom became him too. The word sounds of the twin sister questioned how I could communicate with her twin. I told her to ask him because he communicated with me first. The twin brother walked over to me and we exchanged thoughts naturally. The others also exchanged thoughts as we did until there was a sea of thought voices about me; asking questions, sharing each, their dreams, revealing fears and asking the same question that we asked ourselves: who am I? Until we heard in the question the ultimate question: What am I? All of us had this question. The somber faces with white coats continued to gaze down at us in the pit, their faces cold as freshly laid concrete. They mouthed a few words; short sentences squeezed out through their taut lips, always staring. They fixed their stares onto a specific one of us before moving on to the next from their vantage point. I heard crying but there were no contorted faces around me, no tears on the faces of the others. More crying, I felt, yes felt, a feeling of sadness because of a simple question: what am I? Still more crying, without contorted faces or tears visible on any of us in the pit that day. The twin brother cried loudest in my head; his sadness profoundly touching me. Around me remained silent faces, dry eyes, a stillness like untroubled lakes, reflective, blank, expressionless. But I could hear the crying and feel the sadness and I discovered anger, hate and bitterness in that long parcel of light you call day. Like nothing I have felt since The twins stood together with me. We huddled, exchanging thought. With my face contorted in shock I looked up at the somber figures in white coats manning the circumference of the pit. Immediately like starved vampires all of them looked at me like a wind had blown their faces instantly into my direction. Looking at me as if they had finally found what they had come to the pit that day looking for. A concealed door suddenly opened into the pit and five cumbersome figures bundled through dressed in black, burly, and durable in appearance, like awkward oversized trees. They came in and took me from the pit. I never saw the others again, but even so, the twin brother continued to exchange thoughts with me. I liked him, and I have seen him in many places, many times as he was not when I knew him, so he does not recognize me and does not share thought pulses with me anymore.” [Who is this twin brother?] “His name is Methode and he was impressed with his ability to exchange thoughts directly into my mind. We exchanged thoughts often.” [What happened to you?] “Me, mere me, ah, I was put in a dark cell with no light. I felt inert like a useless gas that can only exist in a compound. The somber figures in white coats kept me there. It seemed like an eternity. I have since learned that an eternity is something quite different from what humankind believes. I went for unnumbered days and nights without seeing light or its glimmer. During this period, I learnt to sense then to see tiny parcels of photons, light, and other sub-atomic phenomena even on the quantum level, as you will have heard it being called– in the darkness of my cell. I remained in my cell for 86 days.” [How do you know this?] “Methode told me. We exchanged thoughts about all sorts of things. We were enjoying the sharing and creation of alternative information when we decided to learn how to clip time.” [Clip time; what’s that?] “A natural law of peculiar analogy, listen carefully, I could see things in the darkness of my new cell, thin strings of life that Methode and I called strings of existence. Our sight had become extremely acute. I could see them, thin strings of existence, moving here and there in the darkness of my cell. I exchanged thought pulses with Methode, teaching him to sense, then to see them. I possessed time in my solitude of darkness, time to think and to follow each string of existence and realize that at times each would disappear for moments, seconds then reappear but in another part of my darkened cell. Then I descried how some would reappear, some after minutes, some hours, days and others, weeks even a month later. Because of my improved eyesight, I could see the places where they re-entered into my plane of existence…this dimension…thin dark lines they were…seams that were, I believe, a deeper definition of darkness. You can only see them when the thin string returns into this dimension. I exchanged the thought pulse of my knowledge with Methode and we continued to develop our understanding of this phenomenon. There was a time during the unceasing night of my captivity that I watched as a thin string of existence re-entered the unceasing darkness of my cell. Using my eyes as perfect guides I touched, with the tip of the index finger of my right hand the space that the string had just re-entered through. My finger fell into nothing and was no more. Half of my finger had disappeared into the darkness of the seam. I could feel my finger. I could move my finger. I could also feel a bitter pinching cold upon my non-existent finger. I pulled my finger back into this dimension. Ronan Clarke, I was not shocked. Why should I be? We were never referred to as human…or as children. We only spoke to one another and saw nobody else except the large unfriendly helpers or the somber figures in white coats. I was eager to exchange thought pulses with Methode about my experience. As I did so, for the first time, I felt nothing in return. I tried to exchange thought pulses with Sylph but could not. They were gone! In this dimension, I have not heard from them since, but I have seen them, both, as they are not here upon this Earth.” [What are they like, their names, anything…description– what do you mean 'not here upon this Earth'?] “Ronan Clarke, it is unwise to mix what is learnt in the multiplicity of there here and expect harmony. What I seek here- love– is self-serving as one day you will learn.” [Gosh, I am still at a loss. As you will. Please continue.] “I now knew what loneliness meant. The others most of them cried unceasingly behind their serene faces. I heard their crying and felt their sadness as one by one they fell silent. In a period of deeper darkness not long after the twins stopped exchanging thought pulses with me the Earth shook, as if the carcass of an unjustly slain whale had been rudely thrown into the middle of the research center, the place of my captivity. My dark cell rocked visibly and fiercely, and I was thrown to the ground like an unwanted toy with an ungainly thud. My face banged against the cold pitiless ground. It was not as dark as before as I slowly raised my head from the concrete. I saw darkness, but a different darkness the natural dark of night that looked now to me brighter than the dark of my cell. My eyes were drawn to the twinkling light of the stars; a wall of my cell had been rendered asunder into two pieces, a long crack that went from the ground to the very top of the cracked and crumbling gray wall. As debris began to tumble from the top of the wall inward I placed my hands over my head to shield myself from the falling debris. Thick dry-stone dust was rising as pieces of concrete clattered down around me. As they settled I heard night sounds and saw the night sky behind large strange trees I had never seen before. Slowly, I thought, then quickly I crawled toward the wall each hand feeling, grabbing, searching for stable ground to move along without hurting myself but it was impossible as the sharp jagged masonry lacerated the skin around my feet, knees, back, arms, hands, and face. I felt myself going upward, yes, I recall, I was climbing upward, holding handfuls of sharp unkind stone that greeted me by demanding my blood and flesh to satisfy their service toward my survival. Climbing upward along the edge of the crack I felt I could open my eyes now, that there was something worth seeing. The Earth shook again, violently as I opened my eyes. The concrete debris I clasped and stood upon gave way as the Earth swayed, throwing me outward upon the ground outside my cell. Roughly I landed on the harsh plant life and savage rocks and stone of the jungle floor. After a moment of stillness, I shook my head and instinctively knew that I was okay. Looking slowly behind, and up at the place I had climbed to, I realized I had climbed to a very high place, and that I had fallen very far, to the place I stood in now. I felt fine. I was fine. Bloodied clothes but no scars…no cuts, no wounds…I– I was fine.” [Sounds like a massive Earthquake hit the area. And this all happened when you were excuse me 5 years, sorry cycles old, correct?] “From the night of my 5th cycle my memories, my feelings, and my sensations…not just mine now I recall, but of all of us, were as clear as sand out of a blast furnace ah-he-ha.” [Got it…clear as glass, right? Carry on. What happened next?] “The walls of my cell were ruined. There was another rocking of the ground beneath me. 30 seconds it lasted, and the walls of my cell collapsed along with a part of the pit. I heard long siren sounds, loud voices belonging to big men getting louder and louder as they came closer and closer to the scene of destruction, close to where I stood. I was serenely confounded and quite without knowing it, dependent on the somber figures in white coats. With my hands in front of me grabbing at the dark like a blind person, gingerly I walked over to a spot that seemed clear of jungle growth and stones. The side of my head began to throb, I had to sit. I became complacent, reflective. I should have been worried but I did not, still do not, know that emotion. So, I sat and played– played the games I knew how to play. I was almost upon my 6th cycle of existence– steadily NO swiftly understanding all things immediately around me as the lump on the side of my head throbbed. But I could not understand the somber figures in white coats. They had always avoided contact except when giving grim instructions to their helpers whenever they appeared. Well, after a few more moments I heard large shouts and a siren along with sharp lights, parallel and probing both yellow and white beams coming from the rubble that used to be my cell. The wall I had climbed and fallen from was very high. I could not consider danger, I had no knowledge of that state of mind: does a gold fish consider danger in a gold fish bowl after swimming around it a thousand times? I was preoccupied, playing, watching in the darkness of the jungle, when I began seeing thin strings of existence as they re-entered our dimension. I recognized them; I had spent unnumbered moons, lonely, cold, in the dark, watching them, the different shades of light they emitted, size and length of the darkened seams they exited through. Some I had seen re-enter our dimension but others as I have said took a long time to re-enter. My dark cell had been destroyed, displacement Ronan Clarke, displacement of space and time…space-time. The place they re-entered had moved as I had had to move from where I was before. Some would re-enter fully, others would re-enter partially, they had grown too. I could see this because they had exited shorter than they had re-entered…existing in, perhaps, two or more dimensions. Howls now; a barking that came from the direction of my cell. They were getting closer. The bellowing voices of big men shouting in my direction. I could smell hydrochloric acid in the air, garnished with the smell of human flesh. I told myself, as my head throbbed that I did not want to go back, go back to my cell, the pit, NO…but I did not want to go forward into the darkness of the thick jungle growth either. I had no home. I did not yet know what I was. I gave up asking that question after the twins were no longer there. Especially Methode. I remember that I froze, I did nothing as the throbbing stopped. I sensed the howling dogs and big men in black, burly, and broad shouldered, bundling through the jungle growth toward me like bursts of dark shadow unhindered by plant or stone. I saw a thin string of existence re-entering our dimension. This string was very thin. I watched as it created a delicate ripple in space-time. Stop me if this gets too difficult for you to grasp Ronan Clarke…Earth-man. The very thin string of existence had my attention and I thought about it as the throbbing in my head started again. My will desired to be a part of it forever drifting in and out of existence. Loud voices, closer and closer, shouts, very close now. The barking ceased. The dogs were sniffing. I could feel the muscles of their nostrils contracting in and out. The glow of the new moon was bright as I lifted my hand, stretching the tip of my middle finger toward the still limitlessness of the darkened seam. As my finger disappeared into the void I heard… 'There you are girl’ Shouted one of the big black clad guards bringing with him the thick stench of leather leash and howling hound. Now I knew, I knew the emotion shock. He called me a girl! If he had a label for me could he know what I was? what a girl was, were we also human? I had a label after almost 6 cycles of existence. 'WHAT AM I?' I screamed at him emptying the air in my lungs as my scream turned into my cry of desperation. 'Silly, you’re a child. What kind of question is that?' He answered, smiling. I knew what I was. What we were. I had to tell the others. A semblance of happiness entered me. Something human because if I was a girl, a child and all humans start life as children and a girl is a child then I am a human…the others were human too. Onyx is a child I thought, I concluded, I realized. I shouted out to no one yet everyone. My finger now covering the spot the string of existence had just exited through. A group of guards stood around me now, their hounds kept their distance, their heads lowered with feral eyes, under furrowed furry foreheads. Their savage eyes now fixed on me, panting, the saliva dripping from their long pink tongues that hung in the moonlight as cold air mist snorted from their nostrils. 'I AM HUMAN! WE ARE HU...' I never finished my sentence, never got a chance to tell them, the others, or see them on this plane of existence again. As I lowered my hand, my finger still protruded, the thin string of existence re-entered our dimension, threading itself, painlessly, through my protruding finger and around it, a thousand times, securely, permanently. The guards stretched their hands to grab me but I was pulled, instantly, as the thin string of existence, as strong as worlds, exited into the darkness of the seam and out of this dimension. The seam widened and swallowed me whole. That which I knew as a thin string of existence in this dimension, in the other dimension and other dimension and other…, was merely the tip…, a loose thread of a wormhole that straddled many dimensions entering and exiting each at will. Many Earth years have passed since my 6th cycle of existence. I have entered and exited more dimensions than you can imagine. I am the wormhole and it is me. The gravity of my will and the gravity of its will have joined…fused and together we are one. I have seen the place you call the future. I tell you what is to come because we are fortunate to come to this place in space-time to meet you Ronan Clarke. A person who’s like we have seen many times before but never until this moment on the same plane of existence. All humanity’s understanding of the idea they call the universe is wrong because I have seen many things that you cannot comprehend within the context of your acceptable wisdom. Yes, my name is Onyx and I came from the same carbon stuff that you are made of but Ronan Clarke I am not human. I am no longer of this Earth. I exist within the infinite folds of space-time. My home is the bosom of the wormhole and its cosmic consciousness is the mind matter of my brain. My body exists and draws sustenance off the walls of its elemental cosmic flesh. I breath air of a concoction you cannot comprehend. Look! How the space-time about us begins to alter? Do you see how space-time begins to separate to reveal the folded layers of our existence where time as you accept it cannot exist? I am leaving now. I may never see you again and maybe I will. Maybe it was my will to see you. Now I see you, I am satisfied that you will understand the wrong that should be righted. I must go Ronan Clarke. Try if you can to imagine the true definition of beauty; the fusion of the cosmic elements of organic and inorganic matter with plasma and other elements you have yet to discover, like molten diamond or gaseous gold. I have seen this and I am this and it is beauty beyond human belief. Whenever I enter the dimension of this existence I am called 'witch'. Yet, if that is the human perception of us then let human perception persist as it has a right to in a human world. We are not witch…Onyx is our name, and we are considered a thing of beauty…we must go…” [No! Onyx let me see what you look like. You say you are not human but how can that be? I must see what you look like?] At that Onyx threw off the many layers of her black gown and revealed herself. Before my very eyes she shimmered as a thin string of existence threaded itself around and through her body a billion times. The place about which we stood began to destabilize and Onyx, now with perfect teeth grinned, her cheekbones rising to meet the sparkle of her perfect eyes. Her female formed flesh flared like the surface of the sun crowned with silken black hair. I stared, stunned to amazement at the sight of a beautiful thing that I could not comprehend. Onyx exited this dimension and existed here no more. End of Dossier. Prepared by Ronan Clarke, Ambassador. https://flic.kr/p/JHKsQT