#what are the chances the government just denies there's a problem until the water actually turns brown

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023

[ananapanini]

Sicknesses, Disasters, and Weather

Trigger Warning! descriptions of injuries and death! For example: mention of blood, burning, drowning, freezing, heatstroke, etc.

Side note before hand because it's technically relevant

A state that's down south and almost always has hot weather would feel warmer to others and be affected by the cold easier, while a state up north with colder weather would feel colder to others and be affected by heat easier.

Fighting over thermostats and cuddles ensue

(Most people go to Alaska when they have a fever, and to Georgia when they're going through a cold front (they'd go to Florida but he's chaos and Texas is,, Texas. Besides, Geo has blankets))

Wisconsin: *opening all the house's doors and windows to enjoy the nice warm 60 degree weather*

Texas: *on the couch in a bundle of 5 blankets* how the fuck are you not dead

Florida: *next to Texas, trying to steal some blankets* Sconnie, I love ya dude but I will not hesitate to set this house on fire to warm up

Colds/Flus

The states can get sick two ways, outbreaks or just catching it.

Outbreaks

If there are a ton of outbreaks of something, for example: flu season, in their state there's a 50/50 chance they develop symptoms for however long the illness would last for someone who actually caught it. Though they'd suffer through the symptoms, they wouldn't actually have it and wouldn't be contagious or anything. But! Just because they're not contagious doesn't mean the other states wouldn't back up when they hear the news, being coughed on is still gross even if it doesn't endanger your health.

According to last year's report Louisiana had the most influenza outbreaks, followed by Arizona, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Indiana, Kentucky, Mississippi, Nevada, Tennessee and Texas. So for that years flu season Louisiana would be sick and at least half of the others listed would also be sick.

Catching it

Now, they probably have really strong immune systems.

Or at least, they should but things can happen in the state that compromises that.

If there's a natural disaster, somethings changing in the state's government (new governor, new law, system change, etc), or there's riots impeding/distracting the state government their immune systems would be weak for however long it takes to readjust or fix the problem. During this time they can actually get sick, symptoms and all.

If this happened then the state would be contagious to the other states, immune system be damned. It'd be like when another person is sick, you have a chance of catching it.

On the rare occasion there'll be a state with a naturally horrible immune system (his name's Washington, someone please get him a cough drop and some water)

DC

He doesn't have people or land for outbreaks to affect him, only the government buildings.

Instead of having outbreaks he has government workers, if a handful of them or just the president gets sick he'll have the 50/50 chance of having symptoms.

Now, if the government is going through big changes or something is happening then DC will have a weaker immune system and would be able to get sick from the states. They honestly don't know if he could get them sick because he always self isolates and denies help when he is.

If there's some serious chaos going on with changes in government then he'll just straight up get sick. No catching it from anyone, nothing giving him a bug, he just develops symptoms of a really bad cold.

Recap:

Humans can't get states sick unless the state isn't at 100%, unless it's just an outbreak states can get other states sick no matter what, states can't get DC sick unless he's not at 100% leaving him as the designated caretaker when no one else wants to help (he would help regardless even if he could get sick, tis his job as parent friend)

Hurricanes + Tropical Storms

The way they affect the state depends how much damage was done and how their population reacts to it.

For example, a tropical storm or low level hurricane would maybe give Florida a bit of head rush or he'll get a little dizzy but nothing he can't ignore with a white claw. His people are used to them and honestly Don't Give A Fuck, if the house is fine and the car's still there we move on with our lives.

Then you have states that rarely get hurricanes and would panic when one hits, even if it's just a weak one. They'd have a headache, feel dizzy and sore.

Then there's higher level hurricanes, for those bruises will appear along with a migraine. Everything hurts and they're coughing up water, it's hard to breathe, and cuts from debris being thrown around by the winds are appearing everywhere.

In the end though, regardless of what scale it was, they're always left soaking wet and cold.

Earthquakes

First there's the feeling of a sea sick like nausea, that's the only warning they feel and only a few states (Literally just California and Alaska, someone please help them, the poor fault line babes) know how to recognize it instantly.

If they're outside of their own state then they'll get dizzy, balance is Gone and they fall over. If they're lucky enough to not hit their head or crash into something when they fall over then depending on the magnitude they could black out any number of times. I say black out and not pass out because while usually mixed up, blacking out doesn't always mean you loose consciousness.

Their vision goes completely, their eyes are open but all they can see is a dull black with staticky darker specks causing, well, static. They can't see if they try and if it's one of their first earthquakes they do try but it hurts to keep their eyes open, only worsening the feeling that their head is splitting open.

Sometimes their skin cracks. Sometimes if a highly urbanized area was hit and buildings go crashing they feel an invisible weight building up on their chest, it can lead to trouble breathing, or a broken rib, maybe multiple broken ribs.

Fires

There's two kinds of fires, fire season which is mostly for the western states and Florida who have the normal yearly stuff that the ecosystems need in order to function, and then there's when fires get out of hand and turn into disasters.

Fire Season:

Fevers that can range from low to high depending on how much land is burning, overheating when things, tiredness, dry skin, but overall manageable symptoms. Occasionally there are bad days but it's usually chill. It's not particularly nice, it sucks actually, but it's a yearly thing and they're used to it.

During the worse parts of fire season, for states with a ton of land on fire, smoke will come off them. They can suppress it but it takes a lot of energy. Statehouse living situation isn't the easiest because now it'd really suck to smoke out the house, others could get hurt, so they get good at minimizing it. (This mostly applies to California)

Irregular, Out of hand, or Man-Made:

A really high fever and burns slowly appearing everywhere. Smoke is harder to control and fills their lungs, making it hard to breathe. Sometimes they'll straight up faint, staying conscious while you're literally burning up isn't easy.

Death

They're immortal for as long as whatever they're a personification of exists. They can die just like any of person and it'll be painful but they always just,,, wake up. In the exact same spot they died except healed. If whatever killed them is still there then they'll die until it's over or someone saves them. If they die multiple times within a short period of time then every time they come back they'll have healed less and less.

Leftover Stuff

Floods = Initial flooding has them throwing up water and sometimes they can't breathe but afterwards it's more of just a cold, murky feeling in their chest (since these usually happen during big hurricanes just slap this on top)

Droughts = dehydration (dry skin, thirsty, insert symptoms of dehydration here)

Heatwaves = just, hot. For no reason. Air conditioning? Ice pack? Fan? Doesn't matter, they're hot.

Cold fronts = same story, different day. Blankets, jackets, and heaters don't matter or help much, they are cold. Depending how cold it gets and taking into comparison the usual temperature for their state they can develop hypothermia.

Tornadoes = Dizzy and disorientation. Bruises if they hit populated areas and destroyed stuff.

Dust Storms = trouble breathing, irritated eyes, more trouble breathing. Afterwards there's that feeling of when you went to the beach yesterday and suddenly there's the crunch of sand in your mouth.

Power Outage = they can't turn on or operate electric things, even living in the statehouse. For example, with the situation in Texas he wouldn't be able to turn on the lights, flipping the switch wouldn't do anything, but another state could do it for him (if they choose to help)

[swordoforion]

Orion Digest №39 - The Paragon Society

The state and its functions are ultimately just a tool - eco-socialist federalism is simply a mechanism to keep peace until we can get back on track. This is not to say that we were ever truly 'on track', but given that we have witnessed the general direction of social progress, we can guess as to where that progress is heading. Many have coveted after the idea of utopia, and such an ideal is perhaps truly unachievable. Nonetheless, aspects of it could be within reach.

What constitutes the utopian idea? The name has become synonymous with perfection, and so within a utopian society, the government must be perfect, people's lives must be without hardship, and the world must have guaranteed peace and safety. The vague promise of utopia is often what constitutes it's downfall - to be perfect means there is no room for improvement, nor discovery or change. Human life is about change, and so our culture and society changes with time, to meet the problems of the times. A perfect society is one that, in a way, simply stops moving, and would likely be unable to adjust to reality.

It is also folly to assume that our lives will be without hardship. For those that are able, labor will always be a necessity for society to function. Even if we automate processes, there will be those that need to tend to the machines. So too will there be struggles beyond just labor and economy - simply living requires one to come to terms with who they are and their place in life, and finding one's place is not without struggle. It is simply part of life, though the barriers through which some are forced to endure more than is necessary can be removed with time.

And so we are brought to the final common utopia, which is that the world is at peace. It is hard to deny that within a world federation, so long as the world is moving according to design, we will have more peace. The world will be one nation, and so the prosperity of the federation is prosperity all can share in. More economic assurance and social welfare means there is less reason for conflict and crime. If change is necessary, it can be brought about democratically through the people. But this is considering that the whole world plays along. Even if the system is designed to succeed, it relies on the willingness of all to coexist and cooperate.

Take, for instance, the crime of robbery. People do it now because it promises an easy and quick shot at a better life through wealth. Given that the economy is disadvantageous to the people already, why not simply take it for yourself instead of playing along? Even if it is usually harmful to others, it still helps you in the end, and ensures that you can live the kind of life you want without sacrificing much of your time to labor. This root cause is what we seek to eliminate with economic reform, but by the time we have developed an economy that requires less labor and offers more favorable opportunity, will the mindset have changed? Even if it's less of a load, there might still be those that want to take the easy way out, and rob from others to skip the toil.

Where there are robbers, there is fear and mistrust among a community, and so people will lock their doors, arm themselves, be afraid to walk at night. People see that robbers can still get away with the crime, and they decide that if others are going to get out of working, so will they, and join in. Even if now, the system has been evened out to make things easier, the people might still be the same, used to these ideas and conditions carried over from the old world, and so things might not change as much as we expect, even if the opportunity is available.

Preventing the rise of monopolies and political corruption is a much easier task than eliminating greed and malice in general. The sociological elements of society are much harder to understand and tackle, and while they are affected by the structure of the system around them, they will also have effects on that structure. A crooked government will breed crooked politicians, which will keep the system in a state of moral disarray. Even if we work to build a better system, we must keep in mind that any system still relies on people, and if those people continue forward, laboring under the ideas that have driven us for millennia, they can take advantage and abuse the power it provides.

It's not to say that human nature is bad, nor that we can never find a sense of peace. It's that we've spent so long fighting each other over the course of generations that we don't know what peace looks like. Just as with nations, so it is the same with individual people - it's hard to be convinced the world isn't about the survival of the fittest, when you, too, would take advantage of opportunities for advancement. Injuries of the past are hard to forget, and most wouldn't offer their hand to strangers a second time if it was shunned the first. This forms perhaps the toughest puzzle of our cause, one that goes beyond eco-socialist federalism - how do we convince the world to unite?

The state we will build is but a tool. While we're starting to get an idea of how to treat other people and what is morally good, the environment we have built around ourselves is a cage that is not conducive to true sociological development. Lifting these restrictions upon us and making a system that allows the chance for equality is the first part, but we will still need to undo the conditioning we have developed. We still have to develop as a society and learn to trust and respect one another, or else we will keep fighting others out of misunderstanding. All sides in a conflict are either in pain or misguided, ultimately victims of ignorance. Should they be brought up to learn, we could begin to solve problems with a handshake and not a knife in the back.

In more concrete terms, we live in what could be called a 'survival society.' On the hierarchy of needs, physical needs such as shelter, food, and water are the absolute minimum, while psychological needs leading up to self-actualization are higher on the list, only accomplished after the survival needs are met. A survival society is one in which the organized structures are insufficient to provide citizens with a means of having their survival needs met, with time and energy to spend on fulfilling secondary needs. Instead, the focus of many citizens, whether due to absence of necessary resources or insecurity due to conflict with others, is primarily on survival, and thus they often have little time to focus on their higher needs.

Even if they can survive without them, this does not mean that higher-level needs are any less of needs. Mental health being overlooked often has dangerous consequences for people's interaction with the rest of society, and results in harm done to many, even if unintentionally so. Societal structures of economy and government not being adequate to universally provide for physical needs, as well as sociological threats to oneself (physical needs becoming even harder to come by due to economic and cultural discrimination) contribute to the flawed idea of a 'survival society', and our goal must be to move beyond this.

The opposite of a survival society is thus a paragon society - a society in which the structures in place, as well as sociological and cultural factors, allow for all members of a civilization to have their physical needs consistently met, so they can expend their energy on higher level needs. If people are not always fighting just to put food on the table and a roof over their heads, perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to slow down and understand each other. If it's not all a race against each other, we can pull our head out of the heat of battle and see our neighbors for who they are, rather than what threat they pose to us.

Over time, this could naturally occur within a federation. After all, if the structural problems are solved, people will become acclimated to it over the course of generations. But the individualist survival mentality could still pose a threat to even the most full-proof system, and would only continue to make it hard on other people. It's not an unfounded habit, but it is one that, to truly improve the world, we need to let go of. There will always be new problems to solve and work to do, but if we could pull off the impossible task of peace, new generations can be born into a brighter world, free to be themselves and to know others without fear.

- DKTC FL

[yfere]

M9 Signature Moves! (Out of Combat Edition)

Part 2, with some scattered commentary.

Fjord

Fjord wants to understand other people even if he’s not the best at it. Meanwhile, he’d like to avoid making himself understood. He doesn’t like scrutiny, or vulnerability. Better to step back behind someone else.

Mask of Many Faces. What he says: I like people watching :) What he means: I like imitating other people’s voices and appearances to cope with my many issues :)

Deception Check. The funny thing is, I’m fairly certain Fjord’s talent for deception comes not through dedicated practice or being a habitual liar/obfuscater so much as having deadpan sarcasm levels that are so God Tier that everyone else has to really work at figuring out whether he’s joking or not at any given moment. “Make a deception check,” Matt says, when Fjord is literally just making a shitty sarcastic joke. The party routinely giving him Doubtful Looks until he has to explain that he really was just joking, he didn’t mean that, why would you think he meant that. Likes to joke sometimes to avoid more uncomfortable emotions. It’s important to him, to keep it together.

Gift of the Depths Magic that helped him cope with the drowning thing. Erroneously assumes it will also help other people cope with their water issues as well.

Help Action The beautiful thing about Fjord, I think, is that oftentimes he will not lead in any particular task. Even the ones where technically, they would benefit by him leading! What he does instead, routinely, is pick someone else for the task, someone better than him (Caleb for history and investigation, Caduceus for insight, Jester and Beau for perception and so on) or even just a person who wants to do it, and he will help them with that task, or at the very least make sure they get help. And his help is always a useful thing to have. It helps him, too, to step back, to get out of the glare of the spotlight.

Beau

Beau is curious, she is intelligent, and she is talented. But as much as she postures, she’s not really as confident in her abilities as she should be by rights.

Extort Truth Don’t. Lie. To. Me. How Beau wants to know things, wants to know them so badly she will go after secrets with the bluntest of instruments, something painfully obvious—and it will work for her. It works when she punches the truth out of people, just as  it works when she threatens not to let you into her library unless you tell her of your sordid past.

Persuasion Check Don’t. Lie. To. Me….please? No, but it’s brilliant how the party relies on her to handle their most fraught social encounters, even though she’s not the most charismatic, even though she’s personally better at lying than telling the truth. Because, despite everything, she’s the most trustworthy of all of them. They believe in her, rely on her, and they should.

History Check Beau might claim she’s more interested in the doodles of the margins of the books she read at the Cobalt Soul than the texts themselves, but at least part of that is posturing. She’s a big nerd who has done a lot of studying of some obscure shit, and she’s always looking around her to see if any of the fuckery they encounter matches up with one of those shitty lessons she had at the monastery. She pays attention, okay?

Acrobatics Check “I parkour.” It’s gotten to the point where she does not actually need to make skill checks to do her parkour magic. Still, nothing beats running your way out of a literal pit.

Caleb

What Caleb says and what he does are two very different things. Maybe once you take all his spell components away, he’ll actually be forced to use language to express how he feels. But who are we kidding. He’ll start muttering in Zemnian and you’ll be right back where you started with him.

Leomund’s Tiny Hut As with much of Caleb’s magic, a love letter to his special people. Says all the things he refuses to. Developed in an obsessive fervor while his friends were kidnapped, and unveiled when they were rescued so no one would be taken in the night again. Someday, he will make them something even better. He believes in a future where he will make them something even better.

Identify Demonstrating succinctly a lot of what makes Caleb a lovely and generous person, and also what makes him a bit of a secret-hoarding asshole. Because he likes doing favors for people, and showering them with gifts, and when you’re poor the gift lies in the identify and the giving, even when technically the item you were giving away was communal property in the first place. But also, when Caleb wants something because he thinks it’s fair for him to have as it was fair for the others to have their things, he will learn what it is, and he will keep it without a word. Jerk! Explain exactly what it is so we can keep the illusion that this is a fair process you’ve set up!

Find Familiar Caleb really loves Frumpkin, and Frumpkin is supposed to be a cat, and supposed to be with him, getting pet. But if Frumpkin has to be something else because you need him to be, he will. If Frumpkin has to scope out enemy territory for you to be safe, so be it. Frumpkin will be your landing pad, he will be the trade that will let a caged creature go free, he will sit in your pocket as a replacement owl, he will sit in the rain in the dark and watch over you while you sleep.

Suggestion Sometimes Caleb doesn’t want to leave things up to chance. Deep down, he doesn’t really trust people, so when he’s uncertain or threatened he’ll substitute persuasion and insight to force someone to do what he needs them to do. Tell us the truth about who you are. Show me any dangerous items you have on your person. Go with us into the water, so you are not left behind.

Nott

Nott wants to go back to being Veth, but in some ways she’s really living her best life right now, causing trouble and learning how to cause trouble doing things she never knew how to do before.

Message She can talk to who she pleases, but she and Caleb get their own private line, where no one else is invited “You can reply to this message, and only I can hear your reply.” One of their first spells together, the beginning of Nott the Brave, the Arcane Trickster.

Disguise Self Nott wants to feel comfortable in her own skin. And she doesn’t feel it with the spell, she feels just the same, but she looks the way she is supposed to, and that’s a step. A painful step, when the son she hugs can feel the wrongness of her through the illusion even as she clings to him.

Tinker Check/Alchemist’s Supplies Nott is nothing if not a smart cookie, creative, and reckless as fuck. She will mess with chemicals and she will mess with acid and she will mess with gunpowder—all things which feature centrally in special moves that never quite go as planned like Fireline and Fluffernutter. She will blow things up—sometimes herself. But that’s the joy of a creative mind, really.

Mage Hand Why disable the trap when you can just set it off at a distance? Explosions are more fun to watch than not-explosions, after all. Also makes you look like a cool motherfucker when you’re in a drinking contest.

Jester

Art, heart, and imagination...that is Jester. What she does is more than just pranks and troublemaking, though--her skills are integral to solving any goal put forward by the M9. And what of her own goals? Time will tell.

Sending Caleb might be good enough with his polymorphs to turn people into other people, but Jester, her art, and her imagination give her an edge in another spell. All you have to do is describe a person to her, good enough for her to do a real nice police sketch, to imagine what the person is like. And she’ll be able to cast a spell that will communicate with them anywhere, even though she’s never laid eyes on them before. A hard spell to wrangle for a natural chatterbox, maybe, but her sheer talent you cannot deny.

Zone of Truth She’s too good of an investigator to really need it for interrogation, or believe it when she does use it for detective work. Zone of Truth, Jester believes, can only be truly relied on when paired with the sacrosanct tradition of Truth or Dare.

Locate Object Woooooow, so she was the only one not to get robbed, huh? Guess who is the most responsible person with money after all? Jester is always looking for things important to other people, whether it be lost coinpurses, seals, or those creepy cloven orbs that Fjord keeps sticking into his body. “Oh, he’s going to be so upset!” she despairs, when she can’t find it. But then she picks up where the key has gone, and lights up with joy. She looks for what’s important to others, before ever looking for what’s important to her (because once you stop stop looking it will hit you in the face)

Forgery Kit The pen is mightier than the sword! At nigh every stage of her adventure with the M9, it has been her immaculate paper trail that has enabled them to accomplish their goals and not end up rotting behind bars. Pulled off some amazing government reshuffling, too. I would fear her as a diplomat.

Caduceus

Caduceus has very set ideas about how the world works, but sometimes his lack of experience with the outside world causes him real problems. He isn’t worried, though.

Insight Check Caduceus is a person Fjord believes with some justification to be a kind of mind reader. He certainly has pretty god-like powers here, and he is both a benevolent god and just. He senses sugar off of you, he will bring you a veggie platter. He senses guilt, he will release you from prison against your will so you can face your wrongdoings in the world. Caduceus knows best--at least Caduceus thinks so.

Divination When Caduceus finds out you have family you’re searching for, he will invoke Melora’s aid to find out if they’re safe out there, or what direction they're headed in so you can save them. Caduceus, aren’t you wondering what happened to your own family? No, he’s not going to cast a spell for that, it’s best if he didn’t question…

Create Food and Water Above all else, Caduceus wants the people he cares about to be eating well. Do his non-vegetarian, pocket-bacon loving friends agree with him on what eating well is? Is the beanpole skinny-ass firbolg eating well himself? Ummmmm…

Nature Check he doesn’t know what that is or how it works, but it sure is pretty. When you think about it, everything is just more territory. Nature is nature no matter where you go. Sure, that man-eating seaweed seems a bit odd, as does the enormous murderous bird.  But when you think about it, can you really be surprised by it?

Yasha

Yasha struggles a lot--with grief, with getting close to people. But in her strange, standoffish way, she is always there when it counts. And she’ll always be there, for her entire life and beyond. She has that kind of loyalty, that kind of drive.

Investigation Check She looks for flowers, and special things, in out of the way places, and keeps them in her book.

Strength Check These arms are worth a lot! A check tailor made for impressing people at circuses, winning arm wrestling competitions, and for chasing tail while saving your friends.

Dexterity Check You can shave your friend with your greatsword. That’s how you keep your legs so smooth and shiny, after all.

Necrotic Shroud It happened again.

[imperceptibility]

清和 (Qinghe) -- by 来自远方 (Lai Zi Yuan Fang) -- ch. 1

~

Author → here

JJWXC → here

Disclaimer & summary → here

Translated by me

Index of characters → here

~

Ming Dynasty, year thirty-one of Hongwu, Beiping-fu

The third month of the year[1] should have been a time when the lakes and rivers were warming up and the flowers began blossoming, but instead, Beiping saw several snowstorms. The frigid wind swept along a skyful of snow. Like a knife scraping the bone, gust by gust, it blew against one’s cheeks until they stung sharply.

Dressed in hemp with his hands stowed in his sleeves, Meng Qinghe was squatting by the door, staring blankly at the patterns on the door bolt.

Half-chi-long icicles hung from the eaves. The northerly wind swirled. The window frames made noises, as if it were knocking upon a person’s heart.

The old cat lying by corner stood up with a meow, stretching and then licking its paw. With a couple of jumps, it reached the surface of the simple and crude table upon which rested some brushes and paper, ink and an inkwell. Leaving behind a few paw prints on the yellowing paper, it shook its whiskers in joyful satisfaction.

In the past, Meng Qinghe would have definitely stepped over to chase it away, but in that moment, he was not in the mood.

“The Ming Dynasty, during the reign of Hongwu, Beiping-fu...good heavens, you’ve got to be kidding me...”

When a person got unlucky, even the water they drank would get stuck in their teeth[2].

He had just been walking down the street, nothing out of the ordinary. Even so he ended up traveling through time — and six hundred years at that!

Just how in the world did he time travel? Was there a problem with the way he walked?

“How great would it be if this were a dream,” Qinghe gave his head a hard scratch, dejected and also helpless.

If he had known, he would rather have sold his body to entertain the masses by grabbing a pole and dancing the hula at his company’s annual dinner than sneaking out early.

What a shame that wishes were wonderful but reality was so often incomparably cruel. Cruel, just as the northerly wind blowing on him through the door crack.

Sigh...

His loose long hair flew. The hemp sack of a robe he was wearing might as well have not even been there.

It was so cold his teeth chattered. Rubbing his arms, Qinghe gritted his teeth. He was already here and his chances of returning to his time were slim to none. Even if he regretted things to the moon and back, it was futile. What he should be thinking about was how to keep living.

He did not require much much: three meals a day, a standalone house, no worries over food or clothing — that’d be enough.

Lacking in ambition? A good man not striving to accomplish things and win all the ladies?

He’d ask such a doubter to open their goddamn eyes. This was the reign of Hongwu. Beiping-fu was the Prince of Yan’s territory. Wanting to overflow with boldness in the presence of the likes of Taizu and Chengzu of Ming? Were they tired of how long their life was lasting?

As for winning all the ladies...sorry, he preferred men.

Undertaking heroic ventures and snatching up a beautiful woman might be a story to capture the imagination, but snatching up a man...well, better to forget about it.

Qinghe wiggled his fingers and pushed at the glasses that no longer rested on the bridge of his nose. As dictated by his profession, no matter what it was that he was going to do, he liked to lay out plans beforehand.

Right then, being a civil servant was a high risk job. The higher the position, the higher the likelihood of one’s head and neck taking their leave. The Hongwu Emperor’s bureaucratic reforms abolished the post of Grand Chancellor as well as the Six Ministries. On top of that, he set the record of ordering the execution of ten zu[3]. Jianwen Emperor, his grandson, was relatively good-natured, only intending to target his uncles. However, as it turned out, Jianwen’s military prowess was lacking and he would be usurped by one such uncle. Very few of the ministers who were adamantly loyal to him met a good end.

Thus, it was abundantly clear that taking the imperial exam to become a government official was not a viable path.

Becoming a merchant was also not a good way forward. For specifics, one could refer to the tycoon Shen Wansan, who loved to help others but who was sent away to Yunnan[4] by the Hongwu Emperor to experience life in the army.

Being a good, poor farmer was undoubtedly relatively safe, the prerequisite being that one did not encounter a year of calamities or run into a local tyrant or nasty member of the gentry with too formidable of a personal background.

Other than that, there was another path: enlisting in the military.

However, taking into account his actual situation, this matter was one that he needed to consider at greater length.

A noise sounded again from behind him. Qinghe turned his head to look at the old cat on his table, his lips cracking apart as he bared his teeth at the animal.

With his hair disheveled and a predatory glint in his eye, his thin face was exceptionally malevolent.

Meow!

The old cat bristled, leaping instantaneously from the table onto the roof beam.

Qinghe gave his hair a sassy flip. A perfect victory.

The satisfaction of a victory lasted all but two seconds before sorrow took its place. Gazing at the old cat that was chasing a mouse up on the roof beam, he was infinitely sad that even a cat was happier than him.

At least the cat could eat meat; he could not.

“Shi’erlang[5].” As he was drowning in the clutches of his sorrow, a quiet, hoarse call came from outside the door.

Qinghe did not respond. After a while, another quiet call came, peppered with coughing. No matter how hard his heart of stone was, he could not go on pretending that he had not heard.

Standing up, he shook out his limbs, an action of necessity due to the fact that he was frozen stiff.

Unbolting the door, he saw three haggard women dressed in hemp[6] standing outside. The one in the middle being supported was his mother. The other two supporting her were his older brothers’ wives.

“Mother, saozi[7].”

Going by the memories in his head, Qinghe bowed in greeting, letting the three of them into the room. When he had first arrived in this time period, the boy who was also named Meng Qinghe had already been gravely ill and soon breathed his last. The odd thing was, the memories of this body’s previous owner had remained in Qinghe’s mind.

“Shi’erlang, your datangbo[8] genuinely does not want us to live!”

His mother Meng-Wang-shi[9] coughed twice for each sentence she spoke. As for his sisters-in-law, Meng-Xu-shi and Meng-Zhang-shi, one stroked his mother’s back to ease her breathing while the other was busy consoling her. Their faces were pale and angry and helpless.

Their father-in-law was gone. Their men were also gone. Their xiaoshu[10] Meng Qinghe was only fourteen. What could he really do?

After listening to his mother’s lament, Qinghe’s brows also knotted together.

“What sweet words! ‘Lending a hand’, he says! He’s just scheming to get his hands on our measly family property!” Meng-Wang-shi took Qinghe’s hand in her own, her voice hoarse. “In order to pay for your father and your two brother’s funerals, we barely have anything left anyways! And now, he’s set his sights on even this...”

As she spoke, tears streamed down her face. “When your father and your brothers were alive, whenever something came up in the clan, we never denied them anything. To think their graves are not even cold yet and already your datangbo has turned hostile and is pushing us to the point of death! The fields that we sold, whose hands are they in now? And who took our ox that we used to plow the fields? And why did the teacher drive you out of school and back home? We all have Meng as our family name. How can he go so far? Does he not fear divine retribution?”

The more she spoke, the more stirred up her emotions became. Her wan face bloomed with pink and her coughing grew worse.

Before she finished her words, a cough sounded abruptly from outside the door. Qinghe looked over to find a short and stout man dressed in a dust-gray round-collared cotton padded jacket. The man’s face appeared simple and honest but his eyes carried a shred of shrewdness. It was his datangbo, Meng Guangxiao.

“Datangbo.”

Before Meng Guangxiao could open his mouth, Qinghe made his salutations and invited the man inside. After greeting him, Meng-Wang-shi sat to the side without a word. Qinghe’s two sisters-in-law stood behind Meng-Wang-shi with their heads slightly lowered, also keeping silent.

Meng Guangxiao indicated to Qinghe that there was no need to be so courteous. His tone was kind, as if he were genuinely a good-natured elder.

“Your father and brothers are gone. Your mother and sisters-in-law are women. You are still young. Whatever you need help with, I will not say no.” 

Qinghe raised his clasped hands[11] and bowed deeply. “Thank you, datangbo.”

Gestures dictated by the etiquette of the ancients were still awkward when he performed them. Good thing most verbal communication consisted of vernacular language and not filled with archaic expressions. Otherwise, it was bound to induce a headache, no matter who was on the receiving end.

“However,” what Meng Guangxiao was saying took a turn, “Good nephew, you’ve seen the weather at the start of this year. After all these snowstorms, the springtime field-plowing will probably be delayed.”

Qinghe did not pick up the thread of conversation, not that Meng Guangxiao minded. He carried right on speaking. His words were not harsh but the meaning was clear: the weather at the start of the year was poor and everybody was having a hard time. Your family might be facing difficulties but nobody else was well off either. So should you not be repaying the money and food you had borrowed earlier?

“Putting others aside for now, your ertangbo’s family just added an extra member. He has a hard time saying the words so I have to play the part of the bad person,” Meng Guangxiao paused. “You know I have no other options.”

“Indeed,” Qinghe agreed readily, seemingly completely unaware of what Meng Guangxiao was up to. After a moment, a bit of an ashamed blush crept up onto Qinghe’s face, as if he had just recalled that there was no food at home. “Right now, we are truly in quite a predicament. Could I ask for a few more days?”

“Oh?”

“In a few days, I will definitely come up with some way to scrape together the money and the food. I will not make things difficult for you, datangbo.”

Meng Guangxiao eyed the boy suspiciously. He knew how things stood with this family. Ever since he was little, Meng Qinghe had had his nose buried so deep in his studies that he ended up growing into an otherwise clueless fool. After Meng Guangzhi and his two sons died, there was nobody else who could take charge of the household. Three funerals had exhausted pretty much all of their wealth, leaving behind a family of widows and orphans, guarding a big house and several mu of farmland. If it were not for the fact that he had his eyes on those three mu of top quality farmland and this house, Meng Guangxiao would not drop by so often, risking having all this bad luck stick to him for no reason.

It had yet to be twenty-seven days since the funerals. Ordinarily, Meng Guangxiao should have been in the mourning garment xiaogong[12] for his cousin. At worst, he should have been in dressed in sima. No matter how nice his words were, him paying a visit in his gray, cotton padded jacket showed that he placed no importance upon this family of widows and children.

So the saying went: one would be better off looking down on an old man with white hair than a youth in poverty.

One could look with disdain upon the enemy but should not view an opponent lightly.

Meng Guangxiao had committed both errors. To put it bluntly, it was going to serve him right to fall flat on his face at Qinghe’s hands.

“Datangbo, there are still a few mu of farmland and a house in my family’s possession. Once I find an intermediary to evaluate the price and manage to sell them, I should be able to repay some of the debt.”

Qinghe had carefully deliberated the words that made him want to wince and he barely avoided biting his tongue in the process of delivering them. Given that he wanted to dig a hole for Meng Guangxiao to jump into, his “act” had to be convincing. He was an expert at this sort of thing.

Meng Guangxiao barely kept down the rising corners of his mouth, but he was unable to disguise the contempt in his eyes. His oldest son’s earlier concerns were unnecessary after all, concerns about how shi’erlang was extremely intelligent to the point of not appearing so on the surface[13] and to not coerce him, lest it ruin the amicability between both families. As it were, this boy was but a fool.

But it was a good thing that he was a fool!

After sending Meng Guangxiao off, Meng-Wang-shi, who had kept her silence, tugged on Qinghe’s garment, her voice trembling: “Oh son, what has happened to you? How come you...”

What she wanted to say was: ‘Oh son, how come you have lost it? Why fall for the trap in a one-track minded fashion when you clearly know he covets our property? Besides, that bit of paper money that Meng Guangxiao, Meng Guangshun, and the others had lent us has already been taken back by them many fold through the sale of our fields. Moreover, they pocketed a significant amount during the planning of the funerals. Now, they dare to use this as an excuse to coerce us!’

Meng-Xu-shi and Meng-Zhang-shi’s expressions also showed confusion and reproach. If the remaining land and house were sold off, what were they, as a family, going to eat? Where were they going to live?

“Mother, do not worry.” Qinghe, on the other hand, was the image of ease. Helping Meng-Wang-shi rise to her feet, he spoke in a resolute tone: “Rest assured that I have a plan.”

They wanted his family’s land? He would give it.

They also wanted his family’s house? He would give that as well.

Them laughing at him for being a fool? Then let him be one.

Being a fool was a good thing. If a fool took things a little too far and acted outside the realm of normal logic, nobody would be able to really take issue with that, right?

Qinghe smiled. Meng-Wang-shi did not notice but Meng-Xu-shi and Meng-Zhang-shi exchanged a look, each with an expression showing the same befuddlement. Did xiaoshu just smile? And an eerie smile at that...

~

Chapter 2  ▶

~

T/N:

[1] This refers to the third month of the Chinese lunar calendar, which is the month following the spring equinox.

[2] This is a common saying about misfortune.

[3] Warning for violence in this note!!! In ancient times, family members often paid for the crimes of their (sufficiently close) relatives. The harshest punishment before executing ten zu was executing nine zu, considered as the eradication of an offender’s lineage. According to Baidu Baike, these nine included four on the father’s side (one’s family, those of one’s married paternal aunts, those of one’s married sisters, and those of one’s married daughters), three on the mother’s side (that of one’s maternal grandfather, that of one’s maternal grandmother, those of one’s married maternal aunts), and two one the wife’s side (that of one’s father-in-law, that of one’s mother-in-law). The tenth zu was one’s students.

Absolutely gruesome, yes, but that was what it was, the harshest capital punishment meted out. Just explaining this to drive home the point of what Qinghe, as a modern day person, knew of the Hongwu Emperor.

[4] Yunnan province, back then, was considered quite remote for the Han Chinese. And also, as it remains today, Yunnan was home to many ethnic minorities. Read: conflicts.

[5] Shi’erlang is literally “twelfth young man”. Sons were referred to as *insert number* young man, with the number corresponding to their age ranking within the family. In this case, no, Qinghe’s mom did not have twelve boys. It refers to him being the twelfth oldest of his generation within his clan.

[6] This is the second occurrence of the word hemp so I guess I should belatedly explain: white clothes made of hemp were worn in mourning.

[7] Saozi is how one calls one’s older brother’s wife. To note, though it is so in Qinghe’s case, it does not have to be one’s older brother by blood. Nowadays, it doesn’t even have to be legally such a brother’s wife.

[8] Bo is a paternal uncle who is older than one’s father. Tangbo is such an uncle who is a paternal cousin of one’s father. Da indicates this uncle is the oldest of such a generation in the family. Er (2), san (3), si (4), etc would label the subsequent such uncles.

[9] Taking Meng-Wang-shi as an example, this was how married woman were referred to back then, in the format of X-Y-shi, wherein X = the surname of her husband and Y = the surname of her father. They were rarely addressed by first names, as that was considered intimate.

[10] Xiaoshu is how one calls one’s husband’s younger brother.

[11] This was a gesture of respect.

[12] Of the traditional wufu or five mourning garments, whether one wears the zhancui, qicui, dagong/dahong, xiaogong/xiaohong, or sima (in order of coarseness of the fabric) depended upon the closeness of one’s relation to the deceased. Sima had the finest weave and were worn by the most distant of relatives that needed to wear mourning garments.

[13] This is an idiom, one of several of opposites originating from the works of Lao-Tzu. It means that the truly intelligent are so different from the average person that their actions fail to be understood, thus appearing stupid.

[its-love-u-asshole]

Twelve Hours [Ch. 1]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou has dealt with a lot since he was eighteen, each year bringing the same depressing challenges on the same depressing night. He expects this time to be no different, but the universe is trying desperately to prove him wrong in the most bizarre ways imaginable. So screw it, Kuroo’s only choice is to buckle in and hope he doesn’t die. Easy enough. And hey, with some new allies at his side, maybe he has a chance. Who knows? At least Kuroo is sure of one thing in life when it comes to March 15th, and he stands by this unwritten law, no matter what happens:

If you try to kill pizza delivery boys on Purge Night, you’re irrevocably a bitch. 

Rating: T

Tags: Purge AU, mentions of violence but nothing graphic or too bad, no character deaths here okay, this is borderline crack and idk what I was thinking, first meetings, other characters, shenanigans and just...a lot of fun (it seems angsty but its not)

Note: I said I had a new weird au and I do not lie. This au....is so fun to write lmao I got the inspiration from a writing prompts blog (they always work wonders, I swear) and I'm so glad I actually sat down and produced this, no matter how crackish it is lol. I hope everyone enjoys! I already have 2 more chapters written so 'm going to try and be frequent with the updates (as much as I can anyways), so expect those every other week ^^ Thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading this over! 

AO3

Sec. 175. In accordance with national law and employment regulations, no government corporations, hospitals, schools, or select businesses are to remain open on the night of the annual Purge. Should a private chain or entity choose to conduct themselves, all labor codes must be adhered to, and employees are to be compensated with a wage fifty times the normal hourly rate, as well as provided with basic equipment needed for protection. Any businesses found to be neglectful of such policies will be examined and penalized.

--

March 15, 2020

1:00 PM

6 hours until the Purge

"Shit."

A shrill, joyless tune rang through Kuroo's room, and his eyes snapped open. His first mistake of many.

The sound of his alarm and his general grogginess had him rolling right out of bed and onto the floor in his piss poor attempt to reach for the snooze button (for real, how had he fucked that up?). His limbs acted like hooks, bringing his bundle of blankets and pillows down with him.

It wasn't that different from a regular morning, in truth. The only difference was that this time, he was ashamed by how late he'd managed to sleep in.

Kuroo prided himself on being an early riser. He had his good name to defend. At this rate, even Bokuto would be up and about (or in the midst of his first nap), that log.

"Dammit," Kuroo muttered, reaching up to silence his phone. The end of the stupid ringtone didn't end Kuroo's suffering. The sun shone through his window, making him squint, and that, along with his mind beginning to power on, reeling with dates and to-do-lists, became far too much stimulation for the morning.

Er...afternoon.

Kuroo sprang up, unaware he'd collapsed the previous night in such exhaustion he hadn't been able to pull his jeans all the way off his legs.

The result? He fell face first onto his unvacuumed carpet once again, and okay, out of all the days of the year, this was not the day for him to be so clumsy. It probably hadn't been a good idea to work a double shift the day before at the pizza parlor, but there was a gaming console he really wanted (not to mention his strong desire to keep his savings growing), and he was so close to being able to afford it.

And make no mistake, Kuroo didn't like stealing, sanctioned crime or no sanctioned crime.

So he was saving up, like a high schooler or something. Oh well, it beat the alternative...

On autopilot, Kuroo fumbled for his remote, groaning as his hand touched something mushy.

Oh god. Gross. Gross and weird, what the fuck--

Clearly, some spring cleaning would be in order for tomorrow. The world ‘tomorrow’ made his heart stop for a second in fear of the unknown, but he got over himself quickly. He had to. Today he just had to.

After some deep breathing, he managed to pry his eyes open enough to find what he was looking for: the remote. Switching on the television, because that's what he did on a normal day, he couldn't help but groan at his mistake.

Routines could be his downfall at times, especially when his television automatically turned onto the news station. He should really know better by now…

This was the one day where he preferred to not watch the news while he got ready. Kuroo would've much preferred some B movies, or even better, a documentary on how to make soap.

Not caring enough to switch the set off, he threw the remote to his bed, and waited for the coverage to begin. No point avoiding it now. In the meantime, he figured he really needed a quick rinse, and a good brush through his hair (it wouldn't look any better afterwards, but it was the thought that counted).

Kuroo had to return to work by five anyways, as was policy. Even though the pizza place he worked at wouldn't start accepting orders until the start of the Purge, they had to be there to lockdown, take inventory, prepare their cars, and get their gear on.

So basically, Kuroo would have to get gas, organize his artillery, and make lunch all before then.

I want ramen...no...fried chicken.

Fuck it, he was getting paid fifty times his usual wage tonight, he could afford to treat himself to both.

The news logo flashed onto the television, gaudy and bright. On screen, two anchors sat, the countdown clock framed innocently in the upper right-hand corner.

"Good afternoon and thank you for joining us on the eve of our nation's 7th annual Purge! I sure hope everyone is excited. What should we be expecting from tonight Kudobera-san?"

Before closing the bathroom door, Kuroo glanced back, catching the far too cheery smiles of the news anchors giving their annual spiel.

"Well Takigawa-san, we expect a much higher turnout than last year. However, reports show that a lot of businesses have upgraded to new top of the line security systems. It'll be interesting to see how these changes will affect the crime rates tonight.

"But in celebrity news, idol Fuwa Reiko's Purge bash is said to have a guest list of over fifty people this year, and prizes will include..."

Kuroo rolled his eyes, grabbing the nearest bath towel, and shutting the door.

--

The Purge began when Kuroo was eighteen years old, and it was truly a terrifying and horrific time and blah, blah, blah, blah...

Yeesh.

Look. Kuroo could go on and on about the corruption and politics surrounding the Purge and how it came into being. He could then spend another few hours about how it ended up impacting him personally. His newly formed anxiety, his suppressed fears, the fact that many people he knew and met sometimes didn't survive the year.

Very grim stuff. No fun.

Tonight wasn't about any of that, and Kuroo wasn't going to waste time on detailing the Purge and all the blood-chilling and fucked up things which happened during it.

No one had time for that.

And yeah, one day Kuroo dreamed he'd be rich enough to move away from this cursed nation, safe and healthy with all his friends without the Purge looming over him every month until March rolled around.

But, it was not the time for escape quite yet, so Kuroo refused to dwell on the subjects of blood and gore. No time to reminisce over his childhood, no reason to recount his tragic backstories or feelings on the matter.

Not tonight. Maybe next year.

Tonight, he had a twelve-hour shift, and he was expecting to be paid well.

The point of all this? (Aside from the gaming anyways...) Simple. In order to one day achieve his dream, and keep himself alive until then, he needed money. Purge night, as shitty and immoral as it could be, let him earn enough money to cover three months’ worth of rent. That was without tips too.

That was his only focus.

So in short, in order to keep himself sane, Kuroo worked hard, and had no problem with diverting his internal angst into jokes at any given moment.

Liiiiike now.

Kuroo kicked open the door to Bokuto's bedroom, where he was still cuddling Akaashi against his chest. One of their infamous afternoon naps. How cute.

They were sickening. "Hello naughty children, it's murder time!"

The couple jolted awake, and while he might deny it later, Bokuto totally screamed. Kuroo smirked as Bokuto flailed on the floor, reaching for a nearby water gun to defend himself.

Given that Kuroo knew Bokuto was quite skilled with actual guns, it was a sight to see.

Akaashi glared at Kuroo from the bed, eyes full of pure, empty disgust, like Kuroo was a dead bug on the windshield of Akaashi’s life. Kuroo's joy was not deterred, and in a sudden moment of bluntness, Akaashi uttered his first sentence of the day: "Kuroo-san, I hate you."

"Is that any way to treat your best friend who woke you guys up in time for your flight?" Kuroo wiped his fake tears, gesturing to the bundle of suitcases Akaashi had packed dutifully two nights prior.

"I had an alarm set--"

"And your best friend, who made you guys lunch and drives you to the airport every year," Kuroo continued, not willing to wilt under Akaashi's piercing stare. Bokuto stayed on the floor, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.

Kuroo could defend himself alright? Being a cunt was a defense mechanism he used so he wouldn’t just start fucking crying all over how much he loved his friends on the worst day of the year, so he was sticking with it. They knew of course, but maybe they didn’t say anything for Kuroo’s sake, and he loved them for it.

Akaashi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he channeled his inner anger management guru. Kuroo liked to poke fun at the fact that maybe Akaashi needed to purge more than anyone, but they all knew the raven abhorred violence.

Well, most of the time.

Without another word, Akaashi chucked a pillow directly at Kuroo's face (with impressive force he might add), and Bokuto became aware enough to tackle Kuroo to the ground two seconds later.

And though Kuroo whined and complained, eventually crying his surrender after Bokuto had him pinned down long enough, he couldn't help but smile at how much he cherished these moments.

Bokuto and Akaashi would only be gone for a week, but he would miss them. They always picked the time of the Purge to take their yearly vacation.

It was...better that way.

They could afford it too, being players for the national team. Bokuto got nervous and overly protective whenever the Purge rolled around, and though Akaashi wouldn't admit it, they were both scared of ever being remotely close to a situation in which they might lose each other.

So, they decided to travel to a different country every time the heinous event rolled around, one where the Purge had no weight or influence.

As Kuroo made them their pancakes and helped them with their bags, he couldn't help but doubt himself, like he did each year.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us Kuroo, we can still get you a ticket, we can figure something out!" Bokuto's concerned look almost had Kuroo giving in. He slammed the trunk, putting Bokuto's suitcase down next to him.

The airport was never that crowded on Purge night. Guess people trust their security systems enough to not leave the county.

The couple never failed to offer Kuroo a ticket. They cared about him, didn't like the thought of him not being safe. Kuroo agreed. That's why he'd begged his family to move out of the country years ago, why he encouraged Bokuto and Akaashi to leave around this time as well.

But Kuroo...Kuroo was stubborn.

He hadn't finished school yet, and his savings weren't where he wanted them to be. When he moved, he wanted to be secure. Plus...Kuroo could be kind of dumb about these things. He got a twisted sense of pride when he survived Murder Night™ every year, even more so now that he chose to work during the event.

Yeah...that was a whole different story.

Kuroo shook his head, smiling easily. "We've been over this man, you don't have to worry about me. I refuse to die."

Akaashi curled his hand around Bokuto's before the other could begin to protest. Akaashi disagreed with Kuroo's decisions too, but he knew arguing got them nowhere. "You are like a roach."

Kuroo stumbled back, as if punched. "Ouch. I'll try to take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"Akaashi."

They all laughed, and as the clock struck four, he watched them disappear into the airport, after a painful, drawn out embrace, waving at him one last time.

He smiled through his misty eyes, and couldn't help but feel relief knowing they'd be far away by 7 PM.

--

Now generally, it was pretty agreed by all that during the Purge, people shouldn't target delivery boys. Out of all the people to kill, you're gonna go after Papa John? Get fucked.

Who the hell was shitty enough to murder some sad minimum wage worker?

Well, a lot of people actually. People were cruel during the Purge, that was sorta the point. But, in Kuroo's experience, the freaks with knives and masks would often overlook him and his crappy pizza delivery uniform.

Some things were worse than death, they probably thought.

Kuroo wouldn't complain. The less trouble for him the better. While he did occasionally have to fire warning shots and rev his car at people who were a bit bolder and more bloodthirsty, he stayed fairly safe.

Or as safe as one could be, surrounded by crazed people wielding machetes. He was more than fine with ignoring the screams and explosions by turning up his stereo to inhuman levels, bottling up his inner hero.

Because in reality, Kuroo had never managed to shake his core beliefs, no matter how fucked up the system was. He was honest, valued good work ethic, respected his elders, all that jazz.

Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou was the guy who helped old ladies cross the street. Definitely not someone who should be working during the Purge. But, well, his mother always told him people would underestimate him if given the chance.

Kuroo's natural instinct was to defend, to protect. However, during the Purge, it simply wasn't practical, and he was forced to hate himself for it later.

At least he had Matsukawa and Semi to keep him company.

"Happy Murder Night, would you like to hear about our specials?" Matsukawa deadpanned as Kuroo walked through the front door of the parlor. The blast shields were already up, and the shop was technically closed. The only occupants of the booths were his fellow coworkers, the other people insane enough to be working that night.

Semi rolled his eyes, greeting Kuroo without a polite nod. He assumed Kyoutani was in the back, making breadsticks. Again, normal day, if he didn't count the various rifles and bulletproof vests spread out on the counter. Backup measures, in case somehow, the titanium doors were broken down.

Kuroo laughed, walking over to where Matsukawa sat perched behind the register, and picked up the vest with his nametag on it.

So much to do, so little time.

He clipped the vest on securely, holstering two of the guns and a knife.

"I don't know how this place stays in business," Semi muttered from where he polished the counter. "Why would people order pizza on the most dangerous night of the year?"

"You say that as if we don't get at least ten or so orders every year," Matsukawa reminded.

"Robbing and plundering does work up an appetite," Kuroo agreed.

"Like you'd know," Semi said with a snort, throwing the dirty dish rag at Kuroo's face. All this disrespect today.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I once stole a bag of chocolate coins from the discount store." Kuroo crossed his arms, his grin wide and triumphant.

Matsukawa squinted, tapping his hands on the bright red countertop. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"..."

"Did you cry afterwards?"

Fuck.

Kuroo said nothing, and Semi looked two seconds away from laughing his ass off. Wankers. All of them. Nothing but wankers.

"I'll take that as a yes," Matsukawa said, ducking just in time to avoid Kuroo's headlock.

It was at that moment Kyoutani made himself known, asking if Kuroo had ever done jail time for a crime so heinous.

"You've got jokes now? What's the world coming to?" Kuroo cried, falling to his knees.

"Given what day it is, should you really be asking that?" Semi said, and man, too far.

They all stared at each other, letting the dark foreboding and realization settle over them. The thoughts sprang up like they always did, violent and despair-riddled, before Kuroo defiantly squished them down.

Then, they all broke out into laughter, the kind which brought tears to the eyes.

Yeah, the Purge was fucked up, but it brought them closer together.

And honestly, grease stains or not, Kuroo was glad to wait out the Purge in the company of these assholes.

After all, it was the best he was gonna get for now.

--

Kuroo's car was geared up and ready to go.

The delivery vehicle given to them for Purge night only opened from the driver's side. The rest of the car was plated with a lightweight metal, armor essentially. The front behaved more like a battering ram than a hood, in case of extreme circumstances, like having to get through a crowd of attackers. The mirrors were shatter resistant, and the tires were as slash and puncture resistant as possible. Still, the car came equipped with a set of spares just in case.

They kept the car in a special fortified garage which was only accessible through the parlor. The garage door into the parlor locked every time it was closed, a security measure for if someone tried to break in while Kuroo was leaving for a delivery.

All in all, Kuroo felt safe at his workplace. Outside though...he didn't trust anything, and for good reason. Better safe than sorry.

After helping with food prep, checking the car's interior, and filling up the tank, hours had gone by. Looking at his clock, Kuroo's heart skipped a beat.

6:50 PM. Ten minutes until the Purge.

Dread coiled in his gut for a moment before it was gone. Kuroo never got used to this, but he knew what to expect now after seven years.

"Kuroo c'mon, time to get inside," Semi said, poking his head through the garage door. Kuroo was technically safe in the garage but...they just liked to all be together during the opening broadcasts.

Taking a deep breath, Kuroo followed after him, just in time to catch the start. The large flat screen in the dining area which usually played sports games and cheesy commercials lit up blue, the emergency broadcast text slowly beginning to scroll up the screen.

"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by your government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. May God be with you all."

The classic pause.

The silence.

Kuroo never got why there had to be the brief stall before the alarms began, but he despised it. Everyone in the parlor remained stone-like as the chilling sirens began echoed in the distance. They were ghostly almost, unreal, like a thick fog no one could escape from. Sometimes, Kuroo could hear them in his dreams, and he’d wake up with two pillows pressed against his head, as if trying to block the sound.

Kuroo couldn't help but laugh bitterly to himself.

Guess the walls aren't that thick.

As the sirens began to fade, none of them moved. Yeah, it never stopped being sort of surreal. They waited for the telltale crash of store glass or gunshots in the distance, but for now, things had yet to get into full swing.

Or so they'd thought.

Life was weird and unexpected. That much Kuroo knew. But if someone had told him all the twists and turns he'd go through over the course of the next twelve hours, he would have laughed in their face.

He'd be wrong though.

Now, it wasn't abnormal for them to get orders later in the night, usually from families waiting out the Purge or from rich assholes throwing Purge parties. Kuroo didn't get it, and he didn't appreciate the calls, but it was his job.

But again, the calls normally came later. Like, much later.

So when the phone on the counter started to ring not even two minutes after the sirens stopped, only Kyoutani managed to find his voice through the shock of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

[forcedapotheosis-blog]

Gloomy Days Chapter V

Alright fellas, apparently it’s the day of double updates. I felt a lot better with writing this chapter, hope that you might like it, too. Have a fantastic day!

Disclaimer 1: I don’t own One Piece or any of its characters

DIsclaimer 2: This seems to be Chapter 7, chapter 5 and chapter 3.4 because somewhere along the line, I messed up. It’s the seventh post of Gloomy Days and .. oh, I don’t know. Try not to pay too much attention to it D:

Chapter VII / V / III.4 - Second Chances

Where the Hell am I?

The question was not really as surprising as it should be, considering the person that was asking. After a good time of wandering around, it became blatantly obvious that he got lost within the mansion while he was looking for the bar. The exact bar that was in clear line of sight just a few minutes ago. The exact bar that the obvious blonde hair of Sanji could have been seen at. Still, he got lost. Besides that, he felt awfully naked without his trusty companions made of tempered steel at his hips. For the record, he had gotten lost in places that were much more simple than this opulent and imperial mansion, and his evergrowing thirst for booze didn't help. As did the fact that meeting Sanji after years of separation did indeed have a lasting effect on him, as much as he wanted to deny it.

They had been brothers in all but blood for many years until the rot began to tear the crew apart. Even the strongest metal could be destroyed by corrosion, a mountain could be ground down by waves. With the bonds of friendship, it was just the same. When people stopped to be true towards one another, to keep a thing going only for the sake of it being what they used to be, even the strongest ties tended to lacerate. The swordsman had used the long time apart to reflect on it, something that none of his former crewmates would have believed.

Damn cook, I bet he's at the bar now, flirting with some broad and having booze, while I'm .. somewhere, I guess. Think I didn't leave the house, did I? Why does everything here look so unfamiliar?!, he was of a mind to just punch his way through the walls until he found some people and just a few years ago, he would've done it in an instance. Today should have been a special day for his former navigator, though, and if he accidentally broke the skull of her groom, she'd probably not be too happy about it.

That, and I still owe her a load of money. This fact was more a problem now than it used to be. When they were still travelling together, there was booty to be had, money to be stolen from other pirates. Now that he pursued his dream of becoming the greatest swordsman in the world on his own, things went .. a little slower. Falling back into his old ways as a pirate hunter, he found out the hard way that the World Government didn't actually like to pay bounties to ex-pirates. Scratching that off of his list, he worked as a bouncer for a few months, as his former captain did. Sadly enough, the paycheck wasn't even close to cover his drinking habits. That, and his employers didn't like that he slept on the job. To keep himself floating, he resorted to teaching swordsmanship, although that also didn't work out as well as he was expecting. If people got monstrously strong in a relatively short amount of time, they sometimes lost perspective. This loss of perspective did dawn on him when he broke both the arm and the wooden sword of a pupil during a practice session, after seeing that, the large influx of new people that were drawn to his name suddenly subsided.

I wonder when the ceremony is going to start, I might just be able to hear them .. until then, why not take a small nap? Can't do anything wrong with not moving any further away, right? Right?

It was all the more unfortunate that simply taking a nap wasn't as good since he left the crew as it used to be. On the outside, the green-haired swordsman was a killing machine, a force of nature when it came to battling their foes, but still waters used to run deeper than one might have thought. The events of their separation did make a lasting impact on him, traces of that even haunted him up until this very day.

"YOU GODDAMN MORON!", he shouted out in an unusual fit of rage when the first punch was thrown. The cook didn't even try to react to it and faced the consequences. His balled up fist came crashing down on Sanji's face and sent him flying straight into the ship's rail. A lesser man would've lost consciousness from the force of impact alone, but even though Zoro would never admit it, the cook was as tough as nails. Thus, he was able to simply shrug it off and stand up as if nothing happened, rubbing the place of impact in an apathetic manner.

"We're done yet?", the indifference in his voice enraged the swordsman even more, didn't the moron see that he was trying to help him?!

This scene was just the climactic finale of the developments that had occured within the crew since Brook's final death. The situation got from bad the worse and here they were, under the cover of the moon. The swordsman's blood was boiling because of the scene he had witnessed just minutes before. Not only did that dumb cook hurt himself in the process, but he hurt the one woman who might actually be able to unconditionally feel for him. Not in any physical way, of course, but that somehow made it even worse.

"YOU GET BACK IN THERE AND APOLOGISE!", he shouted again, at least showing enough foresight to not draw his swords. Things would have gotten really messy if both of them unleashed all they had.

"What does it matter? And why do you care, of all people? This crew's finished, marimo. Robin knew it, even Franky and Chopper left. This is it, deadlock for our dreams. Just stay out of my way, I'm going to hop off at the next harbor and you'll never have to see me again. It's just a matter of days.", he pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips, though he didn't have a chance to ignite it as the swordsman took his next swing. A mean hook that impacted on the right side of his head and smashed him to the ground again, throwing the cigarette from his lips.

Zoro was quite surprised about the whole situation himself. Usually, he pretended not to care at all, especially when regarding the cook. This time though, it was different. When Usopp left the crew after his fight with Luffy, there were more pressing concerns to be taken care of and things worked out in the end, anyway. He was so sure about it that he didn't feel the need to intervene. The same thing happened again when the cook was doing his spiel with his wedding, though he pretended not to give too much of a concern about the situation, he was certain that Sanji's abilities would be more than sufficient to resolve it in their favour. Yes, it did need the invertention of Nami, Luffy, Chopper and Brook, but things worked out.

This time, he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. He had to do something about it or the whole thing would go to Hell. It probably already was.

"You didn't answer my question. Why in the world do you care?!", Sanji's indifferent facade was finally crumbling, his hands were balled into fists and after the first two, free hits, he was finally ready to defend himself.

"Shut up, go in there and apologise if you don't want me to kill you.", the anger wasn't exactly subsiding, but at least the swordsman had found a way to use it in his usual manner. Focussed on the enemy, he raised his hands in the style a boxer would.

The fights between these two always had something comically serious, as if two storms were wrestling with each other, two unstoppable forces of nature. Surprisingly enough, none of them had ever been hurt within their encounters, but both of them knew that this time, the outcome could be different. One of them might die.

For an outsider, it would have looked as if two mortal enemies were engaging each other, they wouldn't have known what was lying underneath. After all that happened, this fight was still a show of mutual respect. None of them was giving quarter or a second of relieve to the other and besides the fact that Zoro wasn't using his swords, he went all out. Even blocking or evading attacks became secondary as they traded crushing blows that would have killed a lesser man. In this situation, they broke bones and tore flesh apart, but none of it was lethal. These men were evenly matched and it seemed that the only condition of losing was to go in the defensive.

After a few minutes of all-out combat, the swordsman and the cook were breathing heavily, bleeding from a dozen or more minor wounds and ignoring a plethora of broken ribs and other bones. Still, they went at each other in a final clash in which they traded hits again. Sanji's shinbone came crushing into Zoro's ripcage, again, and unfolded enough kinetic energy to throw him into the ship's rail, but the trade-off was that he wasn't able to defend himself against the swordsman's devastating right. The impact let him collapse backwards and blurred his vision. After all, none of them was in the condition to continue this fight much longer and they did make one hell of a noise out there.

Getting back up, Zoro knew that another one of those kicks would damage his internal organs enough that it might kill him. If the broken ribs hadn't already began with puncturing his lungs. Too bad that showing weakness or admitting defeat was not his strong point. At least the cook wasn't looking much better, if any better at all. He had taken so many htis to his head that he was sure to have a concussion and blood was running down his nostrils and his mouth. The situation would have proven dire if all the noise they made didn't alert one of their remaining nakama. She bursted out of her cabin, her eyes still teary from the conversation they had, before the fight between these two 'brothers' escalated.

"STOP IT, PLEASE!", she started crying the moment she realised what was happening. And against any better judgement, even after all the things he said .. or more, didn't say and didn't do when the whole world came crushing down on them, she still ran up to the now sitting Sanji and fresh tears filled her big brown eyes. "Please, Sanji-kun, please stop ..", this provided Zoro with yet another proof that he was doing the right thing here.

Sure, it wasn't easy for Nami and Sanji when things started out, but somewhere along the way, his relentless pursuit of fulfilling all of her wishes made her open up. So much, in fact, that it seemed for a while now that she had made the conscious decision of being with him, openly caring for him. And he was about to throw it all away. Zoro knew that the cook understood his trail of thoughts when their eyes met. The navigator was sitting right next to him and visibly wanted to comfort, to embrace the cook. Maybe a simple touch could have changed how things went, maybe it could have been more than a hope spot. The moment passed, though, and Sanji worked himself up, aching every step of the way, carefully averting his gaze from the red-haired woman next to him. This scene reminded Zoro too much about what had happened minutes ago, when she was on her knees and begged him not to go.

Still, he wasn't even looking at her, the one remaining person he desired more than the All Blue itself. Zoro's lips silently formed the words 'Stay. For her.', but to no avail.

The Sunny was in the middle of the ocean right now and Sanji had suffered some devastating blows, yet he still refused to give in. To do what's best. The last chance for a second sunrise vanished into thin air when the cook jumped into the air, his face full of regrets and his visible eye the source of neverending tears. He skywalked out of sight within the next moments, leaving behind shattered bonds and two broken hearts. Hers and his own.

"Excuse me, sir, are you alright?", he was opening his healthy eye, actually being happy to have been awoken from this haunting dream. The swordsman took his sweet time to reply, first and foremost beginning to inspect who was talking to him. Hrm .. too handsome for his own good.

"It's alright, just took a little nap before all the .. fuss.", he didn't know how to assess the cautious laughter that followed his remark, but an idea already began to form.

"Haha, oh, my good friend, you're absolutely right. I, too, find it a little distracting from the more important things. The wedding probably is blown out of proportion. Many of the guests aren't here to meet Nami, anyway, they're here to attend my parents.", he was holding out his right hand towards Zoro to help him get to his feet, but the swordsman declined by shaking his head, getting up on his own instead.

"Thanks, I'm .. good. My throat's terribly dry, though, where's the bar?", he was leaning his head to both sides, making his neck crack in a manner that visibly sent shivers down the other man's spine. Yet, he continued to smile.

"Sure, my friend. Right down this hallway, you can't miss it. Before you go, though, may I ask you something? Since I don't know you, I assume that you belong to my dear Nami's guests, is that right?", Zoro nodded, moving his right hand in a small circle instead of just telling him to go on.

"That's great, I'm really excited to finally meet most of her family and friends! Judging from the hair and the rough exterior, I assume that you're Roronoa Zoro, is that right, too?", again, the swordsman just nodded. How much did she actually tell that guy about her past? The scion of an old and influential family, getting married to a former pirate? Even if the guy himself wanted it, his parents might not be as excited about this prospect.

"You might not want to write it on your shirt, though. People can get a little weird when they're in the company of pirates. Or .. former pirates.", in contrast to Luffy, who's bounty had been erased by his grandfather, Zoro's was still active. That also was the main reason that he wasn't able to collect bounties from the people he hunted down.

"Oh, don't worry about it, my friend. Nami trusted me with these informations about her past, none will hear them from my lips. It would cast quite the shadow on our marriage and I really don't want to put her through this stress. I mean, even if it was to come out, I'd still stay by her side, but the act of calming the waves would be a distressing start for a life in wedlock, don't you think?", still, the swordsman wasn't really sure what to think about him. He was as tall, dark and handsome as they could get, definitely not a bad catch. And he had money and even though he knew about her past, he seemed understanding enough. A nice companion for her future.

"Yeah, better that way. What's it you want to know? Just going to remind you that I'm really getting thirsty right now.", well, he mostly was thirsty, but he also wasn't terribly delighted to be a part of this conversation right now. As far as he could see and feel it, there was nothing really wrong about this guy. Quite on the contrary, even. I've got the impression that he actually is genuine.

"Well, my friend, it might be the wrong time to fill you in on this, but since you're one of her closest friends, maybe you'd know a way to lift her spirits. During the time she was writing your invitations, especially during the last one she wrote, she actually broke down and started to cry. See, she wrote all of them during the nightly hours, away from our bedroom and in isolation. When I heard her crying, I rushed to her bureau, but she just wouldn't let me in. So .. I mean, you don't have to answer me, but I'd love to know what that could have been about. The next day, everything went back to normal and I didn't ask what was going on, thinking that she'd open up to me when she felt like it, but that did not occur yet.", for the first time now, the groom had Zoro's full attention. After meeting so many wealthy and powerful people, it felt refreshing to meet someone who at least seemed to be a reflective, true-to-himself person. Yet, Zoro didn't want to get pulled into this. He had tried to intervene once and it failed, he wouldn't try a second time. That, and if he said anything, just about anything wrong here, it might be his fault that this nice bubble that Nami had built for herself would burst. How would he react when confronted with the swordsman's theory that her heart, in fact, might still be beating for another man? Probably not what you want to hear on the day of your wedding.

"Sorry, can't help you with that, but I'm sure it's going to work itself out. This way to the bar, right?", it was obvious by now that he wanted this conversation to end. If in any way possible, without leaving a broken groom behind. Not going to carry that cross. Every other, but not this one. I'm not even going to try to fix this mess for you, freaking perverted cook.

The groom nodded in a sad fashion before he forced himself to smile again.

"This way, my friend. Well, I already said that it'd be alright if you wouldn't want to answer that question. Just .. see, I want Nami to be happy, in the best of all cases, I would want her to be happy with me. I just fear that if there's an unspoken thing between us, the marriage might suffer from it. That's not what I want, neither for her, for me nor for my parents. So, one last time, my friend: Is there something I should know about her past? Did she have bad experiences with another man?"

Whatever this is going to be, I'm not playing a part in it.

"Give it a rest, man. It's probably nothing and you'll have a nice, clean marriage waiting for you. This way to the bar, now?", again, he was pointing at the wrong direction. For the third time or so.

"My friend, this way. And I'm sure that you'll understand that it's rather difficult to put this situation to rest. You've known her longer than I did, that I'm sure of, so, shouldn't it be a shared interest of us to see her happy? I .. see, my friend, I know that I told you that you don't have to answer me, but I simply can't stop thinking about her crying in the night. I'm sure that it wasn't the only time that it happened, either. Sometimes, when she wakes up, her eyes appear to be swollen. She's always quick to cover it up, even telling me that it's because of an allergy, but you wouldn't believe that either. Especially not during the Winter."

Hell, can't he just leave me alone? I don't want to be a part of this!

It was then that another thought occured to the swordsman. For all his life, he never believed in fate, in some kind of god or a divine plan. Even if godlike things existed, they wouldn't care about humans, wouldn't they? So far out of touch with their own creation, nothing they would think or do would matter to him.

But what if .. No, no, no. We're not going down that road. I've tried it once and I failed. We're not going to do that again. Whatever happens between all of them, it doesn't concern me anymore. I really need some sake right now.

The gnawing doubt was still there, though. What if there was some kind of a divine force that lead people through their lives? Not even all the time, only appearing when they were straying from their paths? Would these powers be able and willing to grant second chances?

ARGH! They better will, because that frenzied woman will have my head if this doesn't work out!

Finally having made a decision, Zoro stopped in his tracks, turning around to the still waiting groom.

"You know .. Cassian, was it? I don't like it, because you seem to be a nice guy, but you forced my hand in this. Yes, there once was another man. Do with that information what you will. I'm just telling you right here and right now: You're not big enough to fill the hole that he left."

With these words, he started moving towards the bar, now in dire need of a drink because Nami would almost certainly kill him and dying blackout drunk didn't seem like such a bad thing.

"Hey .. my friend, that's not the way to the bar."

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

After the Whisperer posted their data leak on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s classified Project KOBIK, a group of heroes were summoned by Black Widow and the Winter Soldier. On the Helicarrier, formerly disgraced agent Sharon Carter gave them a rundown on the Pleasant Hill experiment. Upon arriving, they received a less than warm welcome and the group found themselves divided.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

NATASHA ROMANOFF: She had been the last one on the Helicarrier. Funny, considering the fact that she was the one who had called them all there. Funny, considering the fact that she was the one (alongside Bucky) who was leaving a trail of property damage in her wake with little explanation. Natasha was, to put it very lightly, pissed. Wake up in the morning seeing red and going to bed with it still there kind of pissed. She and Bucky had decided early on it was best to not tell anyone what they were working on until after they had a better idea, but after the Whisperer and the whistleblower it was hard to deny that it was the right time. And so, the mass message. Everyone there had been selected for a reason. They could be trusted. Not the S.H.I.E.L.D. affiliates, but Sharon had called and Nat decided to at least hear her out. Krakoa had offered up five mutants for back-up with powers based in telepathy, tracking and teleportation. Her tardiness was a strategic tactic to stop the others from asking questions before she was ready. Braced against a wall with one and hanging onto one of the hooks, Natasha glanced around the group. “Everyone read their files? We have the Whisperer to thank for that. And Bobbi. Way to blow that whistle.” The anger was still present.

SHARON CARTER: As the helicarrier began its ascent, Sharon took a look at the anxious eyes around her in the room and glanced over to Bobbi and Daisy. It didn’t seem like those two were exactly eager to answer the questions regarding Project KOBIK, but then again neither was Sharon. The agent figured they’d have at least a little more time to break the news the proper way, but the Whisperer forced S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hand. Clearly Romanoff and Barnes knew that something was going on, and it was only a matter of time before even more information potentially got leaked. It was better to get ahead of it while they could. Natasha deserved answers, even if Sharon knew that the redhead was not going to react well to all of this. And helping S.H.I.E.L.D. with Project KOBIK was one of the main reasons Sharon was even allowed back in the United States, so she had no reason to go against Hill’s orders. It was simple: take the Avengers and Co. there, show them the town, and answer any questions they might have. Easier said than done, but still. “I’ll answer any questions any of you have on the way there, but I think showing everything to you will speak for itself.”

JESSICA JONES: Of course she had gotten caught up in something this big. A big pile of bullshit that smelled like Avengers and government agencies -- aka, her least favorite scents. Although she would have preferred to present as someone who didn’t come when called, Jess had already stuck her nose in deep enough that she had to follow through. That and she felt like she owed it to Matt. A blind man people didn’t know was blind who fought ninjas. Instead of getting annoyed about that fact Jessica just stared as the Black Widow spoke (definitely had never expected to be in the same space as her) and crossed her arms over her chest. “--So, I wasted a month of my life tracking down these people when Goldilocks (sharon) and Deep Throat (a reference to the nixon whistleblower and NOT linda lovelace) knew all along? Jesus, you people suck.”

MATT MURDOCK: Matt was hanging out along the perimeter of the group as Natasha began talking, but Jessica’s words quickly became much more intriguing. His masked gaze was seemingly fixed on the floor a few feet in front of him, one ear trained in the direction of those explaining the situation, the other poised to catch any additional snide remarks from his coworker - for lack of a better term, “Can’t say I say this very often, but I agree. Seems like information we should’ve been privy to much sooner.”

BUCKY BARNES: He stayed towards the back, seated uncomfortable with the buckles loose around his lap. James wasn't proud to be aboard the helicarrier. He wasn't excited or eager. He felt just about the same as he did when a hit went wrong and he ended up with the poor sap's insides on his outsides. James glanced over at Jess's sentiment, feeling the edge of his lips twitch but not giving anything more. "It's not exactly unexpected, is it?" he said aloud to no one in particular. "If SHIELD can keep something hidden, they will. Even from their friends."

JESSICA DREW: After reading and re-reading the file, Jessica found that her brain still couldn’t make sense of the dossier. Sure, she understood it. But she didn’t understand it. “Excuse me? Quick q.” The Avenger held up her folder and tapped at one of the black and white images. “There’s a porcupine on here. And my baby is with a man who is not qualified to babysit because my porcupine went to pick him up from daycare and went MIA. No correlation, right?” Her voice had pitched upwards towards slightly hysterical at the end. “I just need someone to tell me that you assholes didn’t turn a grown man into a porcupine. Especially not one who was reformed.”

CAROL DANVERS: "Don't be ridiculous." Carol said as she came over to look at the photo, even if she had her own file to refer to. She frowned down at it. "There's no way they'd turn a person into an animal. Especially not a porcupine. They could've done better. Like a wolf. Lion maybe. Porcupine? Way below Gocking's paygrade."

JESSICA DREW: “He never would have left Gerry at daycare. Or go without calling Kalie. They may as well have just put down Roger instead of Porcupine.” Jess craned her neck to look up at Carol. Her eyes definitely weren’t watering. “So, yeah. I have a few questions. How did you pull this off? Maybe my boyfriend was easy to catch, but some of these people wouldn’t be.”

CAROL DANVERS: Carol grimaced. "Also answering the how would be great. It's not exactly natural to turn a human being into a rodent."

DAISY JOHNSON: After receiving the call from Bobbi that everything had gone to shit for a lack of a better word, Daisy seriously reconsidered her entire involvement with SHIELD. It took weeks of searching for her dad before Sharon finally approached her and asked her to join the program. Daisy had been livid, to say the least. Cal didn’t even remember being Hyde. What gave SHIELD the right to change their minds and imprison him inside of a fake town? And then she realized that Mack was no longer acting Director, and everything made sense. There was absolutely no way he’d do something like that and not tell her. It took a lot of convincing from Bobbi for Daisy to not just try to storm in there and quake the whole damn town down herself. Staying close to the project was the best thing Daisy could do for her dad, and for everyone else who didn’t deserve to be mind wiped and placed in there. But it wasn’t like Natasha knew any of that. Or Bucky. Or any of the Avengers. To them, she was just another SHIELD goon following Hill’s orders. She could practically feel Nat’s eyes glaring a hole through her as she cleared her throat uncomfortably. Honestly she wouldn’t even be on that damn plane if not for Bobbi dragging her ass on there. She didn’t get much warning to the fact that Bobbi had told everyone what was going on. “It’s more complicated than that.” She mumbled, referring to James’ comment with a sigh.

SHARON CARTER: Sharon could tell that Jessica was on the verge of tears, and she’d almost feel bad if she’d actually known the woman. But she was just doing what she was told, which included placing Roger inside of Pleasant Hill. She didn’t personally nab him, but still. “He was coming too close to compromising the project.. I’m sorry. I know this is probably not what you want to hear.”

MATT MURDOCK: Elektra had been missing for longer than Matt was comfortable admitting, and hearing about what had supposedly happened to the man in question had him frankly very worried. Unable to request the files in brail for his own benefit, Matt would just have to wait until Jessica would get the chance to relay him the information, to reassure him his girlfriend wasn’t loose in this town running around as a lizard or something. Jesus.

JESSICA DREW: “He got too close?” Jessica barely managed to stop herself from raising her voice. “So you turned a decent human being into a rodent because he got too close?? Jesus Christ, we went from H.Y.D.R.A. to this?”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “Not everyone got turned into animals.” Natasha remained collected. “We have an entire registry full of strange faces. You want to cue us in on who’s who?” When Daisy spoke, the redhead turned to look at it. “Then explain how complicated it is, Agent.”

DAISY JOHNSON: Daisy turned in response to Natasha speaking to her, eyebrows furrowing at being referred to like she was some sort of subordinate. "Look, I didn't know about Yelena when we talked. I wasn't lying to you. You think I'm not furious that my dad's inside of there? Don't take your anger out on me."

BUCKY BARNES: "But you knew." James chimed in. "You knew what the operative was. Former and current criminals. And apparently Roger Gocking."

CAROL DANVERS: "I'd love to know why we were kept in the dark, to start."

DAISY JOHNSON: "I didn't know the list until The Whisperer leaked it. They withheld it from me." It didn't take a rocket scientist to connect the disappearances, though. Yelena, Cal... Daisy just didn't have a scope of exactly who was who inside, or even what specific criminals were in there.

BUCKY BARNES: "You're a shitty spy." James remarked petulantly.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: She wasn’t here to get snapped at by someone who was part of the problem. As Bucky spoke, the Widow’s gaze remained even. “The word is complicit.” Her tone was cool. “Furious, maybe, but not mad enough to come out yourself. As soon as I heard what was going on, James and I were out there researching and blowing up outposts. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t have the list. You knew enough.”

CAROL DANVERS: "She did. She had enough to come to us and let us help, but she didn't. We can be angry and lash out all we want, but what we need right now are details. What exactly are we walking in to, Johnson?"

BOBBI MORSE: "Hey.” Bobbi had been silent so far, watching the situation unfold. She had talked to Clint and Nat. Bobbi had given Daisy the heads up about what she was going to do because it was the right choice, even if it was a late one. “I went to Pleasant Hill in the beginning. I’ve watched them from the beginning. I thought I was doing the right thing by staying informed, but after being there for a while and the Roger thing... we messed up. Bad. Daredevil, Nat, Jess. I’m sorry. To you too, Barnes. And Daisy has some of the blame, but I have more of the answers.”

MATT MURDOCK: Matt folded his arms across his chest, only minutely satisfied that someone had the gall to finally apologize. “Alright - then why are we here if not for more answers.”

STEVE ROGERS: Steve learned a long time ago to stop expecting anything and anticipate that whatever answer he was looking for was usually way more complicated than he liked. As it would turn out this entire operation was not at all an exception to the rule. Nat was pissed—rightfully so, and while he could understand both sides —to a degree, he seemed to remember a different outlook being taken when Wanda Maximoff was running something similar—except even that wasn’t premeditated. “Answers will get us a whole lot farther.” Steve said after Bobbi spoke. They could sit here and bicker all day, pointing fingers, but that didn’t really get them anywhere. “How did it even get this far?”

JESSICA DREW: “Sorry won’t make Roger human again, but thank you, Barbara.” Jess couldn’t believe she had slept with the husband of the woman who had turned her boyfriend into a rodent. Clint really knew how to pick women.

DAISY JOHNSON: Daisy narrowed her eyes at Natasha, shaking her head in frustration. She knew that they'd be upset when they realized she was involved, but it seemed like it was impossible to get them to understand. Of course she knew that what SHIELD was doing was wrong. But arguing about it wasn't going to help anyone. "Bobbi's right. We thought we were doing good by staying close to the project but obviously we weren't. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner." She settled on, not wanting to argue about it anymore. Daisy turned her focus to Carol and took a deep breath. "We're talking into a town. A creepily normal town. No one in there remembers who they really are. All they know is their new mundane lives."

CAROL DANVERS: "So you castrated an entire group of people and turned them into docile brainless next door neighbors?" Carol clicked her tongue in disbelief. "Just keeps getting better, doesn't it. Westview gave you ideas. Not exactly what I expected to happen."

CLINT BARTON: Clint let out a mirthless laugh from his place aboard. "Right. You had the best of intentions didn't you, Bobbi? Would never do anything wrong or disorderly."

ROGUE: Rogue crossed her arms, listening to everyone go back and forth. At first she thought the porcupine thing was a joke, but as it turned out, it horrifically wasn’t. “Ah’m sayin’. Ya’ll practically burned Wanda at the stake, but at least she didn’t turn nobody into a rodent.” She muttered after Carol spoke.

NATHAN SUMMERS "I don't think that helps." Nathan added from his place near Rogue.

SHARON CARTER: "Lying is in the job description of being a SHIELD agent," Sharon chimed in, raising an eyebrow at the whole squabble going on between Daisy, Nat, Carol, and James. Clearly everyone wanted to point fingers and find someone to blame for this, but that didn't change what had been done. "Right next to some overtime required. And I think castrated is a little dramatic. They're living the American Dream. Tidy homes, friendly neighbors, and no crime. If you ask me that beats rotting away in the Raft."

BUCKY BARNES: "I lived the American dream too and my girlfriend ended up joining the Thunderbolts as a result. Wouldn't exactly recommend."

ROGUE: “Wasn’t tryin’ to.” She shrugged. “All Ah here is a bunch of people makin’ excuses and pointin’ fingers. If Ah have t’be here an’ we ain’t gonna come up with a solution, Ah may as well join the bitchin’.”

MATT MURDOCK: “But the way you’re laying this out, they didn’t exactly get a choice, as to what their ‘American Dream’ was, did they? You just slapped an identity on them and sent them off,” Matt pitched in, addressing Sharon directly.

AMERICA CHAVEZ: "Isn't that natural for you?" America asked, eyes skating over towards Rogue briefly. "Look, I don't care why or how, just what we're going to do next. I don't exactly see the issue of leaving them there."

SHARON CARTER: "What does it matter if they're in prison anyways?" Sharon quipped as she turned towards Matt.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “And now your girlfriend has been lobotomized because apparently once wasn’t enough.” Natasha was a little surprised to hear James refer to Yelena as such considering how rocky their relationship continued to be. “Pleasant Hill is completely erasing any chance of redemption. They’re all going to be stuck there until what? They die?” Yelena. James. Steve. Natasha remained on the outside as reality warped those she cared about and it was tiring.

SAM WILSON: “Somewhere along the way, I’m gettin the feeling that we forgot about free will. Even if these people won’t be ‘free’ again because they’re in prison, they deserve to know their own names. How is stripping that away okay?” Sam piped up. “Especially if you’ve got falsely accused.” He wasn’t Captain America anymore but it didn’t matter. Sam held onto  his ideals.

AMERICA CHAVEZ: "Better than them breaking out and wreaking havoc. I don't see what the big deal is."

MATT MURDOCK: “It’s absolutely a question of free will,” Matt shook his head, thankful for Sam’s comment. The legal repercussions of this entire scenario were frankly frightening to consider, but as Daredevil, he had no jurisdiction here, so thinly veiled warnings would have to do, “I’d tread lightly, if I were you.”

SHARON CARTER: "There's room for reevaluation for some. Obviously that's not exactly on the table yet but it will be. We're not monsters." Maybe it seemed a bit harsh, but years in Madripoor unfortunately did that to Sharon. She would have been on the same exact side as Steve and Nat several years ago. But her morality was warped, and unfortunately the offer from SHIELD was too good to turn down. Probably why they picked her to be the mayor of the town.

KATE BISHOP: “Really, man?” Kate pivoted in her seat to look at America. “Sam and the Devil Dude are right. Everyone should at least have a name.”

STEVE ROGERS: “The prison system takes away people’s free will every day. This is beyond that, this is a matter of identity. Humanity.” A man was a porcupine for God’s sake. “They’re still people.”

CASSIE LANG: "Um, technically think they do have names?" Cassie chimed in, frowning as she looked down at her folder and shrugged. "Just... not their own. Nevermind, I'm gonna shut up now. This is still super messed up."

AMERICA CHAVEZ: "People who might've murdered other people. Definitely some people who have murdered other people. Speaking of, how did you two manage to slip through the cracks?" she asked, question directed at Natasha and Bucky."People who might've murdered other people. Definitely some people who have murdered other people. Speaking of, how did you two manage to slip through the cracks?" she asked, question directed at Natasha and Bucky.

BOBBI MORSE: “Hey now.” Bobbi frowned at Clint. “I make bad decisions. You know it, I know it, our marriage counselor knows it. I’m trying to do right here. We can fix this. The town database is the answer. Sharon, am I authorized to proceed?”

STEVE ROGERS: Steve looked at America and crossed his arms as he stood between both James and Nat. “If you have a point to make, make it.”

AMERICA CHAVEZ: "I think I made my point, loud and clear. I just need one person to explain to me exactly what it is we're doing here."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “I started by jumping off a cliff and sacrificing myself to stop Thanos.” A muscle in Natasha’s jaw twitched. “But good question. A decade and a half ago, I was Yelena. If I was stuck in Pleasant Hill I would never have been able to redeem myself on Vormir. And some of the people in this room wouldn’t be here.”

AMERICA CHAVEZ: "So we let them loose on the off chance they'll throw themselves off a mountain? I don't like relying on those odds."

SHARON CARTER: Sharon turned her head towards Bobbi and frowned before shaking her head. "Look, I get it. You all have raised some fair points. There are some risks, but that's not why I'm bringing you all there. I'm not going to help you unilaterally disarm. The point of this is to show you KOBIK."

MONICA RAMBEAU: “If we’re not going to Pleasant Hill,” Monica looked up. “Where are we going?” She hadn’t made eye contact with Daisy yet deliberately.  

MATT MURDOCK: “And we’re all supposed to just nod and accept that this is how things are going now? Are you that confident everyone here will be okay with it?”

STEVE ROGERS: “If the point was to make snap assumptions based on things you don’t know anything about, then, sure, consider it made. However if it was to try and convince me that people deserved to have their bodily autonomy ripped away based on criminal actions, you kind of missed the mark when you tried took shots at a woman that literally saved the universe you exist in and a man who had 70 years stolen from him.”

AMERIA CHAVEZ: America crossed her arms over her chest and straightened her shoulders. The last person to make her nervous was Old Man Steve who should've retired centuries ago. "And all those people they killed? Who advocates for them? You stand up for them because you're emotionally involved. Bet you wouldn't if they were just another nameless HYDRA agent. Now again, why are we here?"

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Well, they had invited a telepath for a reason. As America dissented from what seemed to be the group opinion, Natasha made eye contact with the woman in the rear of the Helicarrier. If Sharon was going to hinder and not help they’d have to go with plan b.

KWANNON: Purposefully situated in the back, the mutant known as Psylocke had been sitting silently. After picking up an errant thought, she caught the gaze of Romanoff and nodded once. She wasn’t Emma. She wasn’t Jean. Thankfully, she wasn’t Betsy. She was the most subtle choice to lead the mutant task force but her stint with the Hellions had prepared her. While Rogue and Cable participated in the discussion, the telepath closed violet eyes and concentrated for a moment. Passcode: 1-1-3-4-7-8-7-8-6-6. Username: Burnes. Storing it in her mind, Kwannon calmly unhooked her seatbelt and moved across the Helicarrier as smoothly as if it wasn’t moving. She was lithe in her actions as pink flared up in the shape of a dagger in one fist and she shoved it through the temple of Sharon Carter, a quick telepathic knockout. As Laura lunged to the side to catch the agent as instructed, Psylocke turned to Natasha. “Passcode: 1-1-3-4-7-8-7-8-6-6. Username: Burnes. I think Agent Morse has something to say.”

STEVE ROGERS: A light, airy scoff puffed from his lips and he shook his head a little. “I used to think the world was black and white too, then I woke up.” Literally. “You can make as many judgements as you’d like, but as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s willing to let people have their basic human rights taken from them, is no better than those they condemn. Especially if it’s because they think of themselves as superior. But what do I know, I’m just an old man. i’m sure you’ve got it all figured out already.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “What you lack in subtly, you made up for in presentation.” Natasha snorted at Kwannon. The mutant was unresponsive as she once again took her seat. “I’m loving the debate, but we’re on a limited timeframe now.”

AMERICA CHAVEZ: "We're just trying to save the world." America said just as she heard the commotion and watched an unconscious Carter slump against Laura Kinney. "I'm getting off this plane if someone doesn't inform me what the hell is going on, right now."

LAURA KINNEY: Readjusting as she balanced the weight of Sharon in her arms, Laura eased her to the ground before nudging her with the toe of her boot. So much for being just the back-up.

BOBBI MORSE: “Was that a thinly veiled threat?” Bobbi’s eyes darted between Nat and Psylocke. It didn’t matter. She had been going to talk before Sharon shot her down anyway. “It’s Ripley.” Bobbi rose so she could be seen better. “Star. That’s what the town database is. It’s a complicated system literally hooked into the Reality Stone in her chest. Anything inputted is then instantly translated to reality. I haven’t talked to Ripley, because they’re keeping her unconscious and intubated. The Wyngarde sisters are patrolling the perimeter. What you’re seeing isn’t an illusion. It’s all real.”

DAISY JOHNSON: Daisy's eyes widened as she watched Sharon suddenly into one of the mutant's arms. She wondered for a moment if she might be next, not that she'd blame them. She glanced at Monica for a moment, frowning when she realized that the other agent was definitely avoiding eye contact. Not that she could blame her for that either. But she knew what she could do to make this right, and she wouldn't hesitate this time. "There's also SHIELD agents embedded into the town, but the Wyngarde sisters are the hard part."

KATE BISHOP: Letting out a low whistle, Kate shook her head. “If it’s a Reality Stone, couldn’t Wanda, like, counteract it or something? She’s got some experience here.”

WANDA MAXIMOFF: Although present, Wanda intended to fly home as soon as they reached Pleasant Hill. It wasn’t wise for her to be in the proximity. She shook her head at Kate’s suggestion. “Ripley wields a Reality Stone from Earth-616. I could look into it, but I won’t act until I study more. If what Bobbi says is true then moving prematurely could cement whatever KOBIK has done.”

GABBY KINNEY: Gabby followed suit and poked Sharon's cheek with her finger before chuckling softly and glancing up at Laura. "She was being kind of a bitch anyways." She whispered.

JESSICA DREW: “So what I’m hearing is that if we misstep we run the risk of making everyone stuck as their new happy go luck personas. Or fursona in one case.” God, she was livid. “Now that Natasha and her friend have knocked out Sharon, do we have any idea how to go about this?”

LAURA KINNEY: Wyngarde Sisters. Laura glanced to Cable and Rogue briefly. “I thought they were playing dead.” She muttered under her breath. At Gabby’s comment, she couldn’t help but snort slightly and shake her head.

BOBBI MORSE: As the Helicarrier redirected slightly to chart a course towards Pleasant Hill, Bobbi racked her brain. “Dr. Randall Jessup is the Head of Onsite Scientific Research. You’re not going to get Dr. Selvig, the head of the Science Division, so Jessup is your best choice. He goes by Dr. Daniel Torres and he can work the Directory.” With that, the aircraft slowly began its descent towards a field outside suburbia.

NATHAN SUMMERS: "As they should've." Nathan muttered in response.

CLINT BARTON: "Thanks Bobbi, I've always been a fan of your belated news."

BOBBI MORSE: “I’m sorry, Clint, do you want to take it outside? I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize men would become rodents.”

DAISY JOHNSON: Daisy glanced towards Bobbi and Clint, grimacing at the argument before walking over to the pilot and taking a look outside of the window. "Looks like we're here."

SAM WILSON: “Wings up, guys.” Sam stood and cracked his neck. The Helicarrier finally touched down in a heavy gust of wind that flattened the grass. As the ramp slowly began to unfurl, Sam shot Carol a look. “Anyone else see the vanilla and chocolate dominatrixes down there?”

CLINT BARTON: "Maybe we could've realized it earlier if you'd just told someone."

CAROL DANVERS: "Pick up that vernacular from Perry?" Carol remarked teasingly next to Sam as the Wyngard’s came into view.

MARTINIQUE WYNGARDE: Martinique could hear the wind snapping around her and her sister as a helicarrier made its way to a landing, and could make out several guests inside. "I suppose we're supposed to do something about that?" She quipped towards Regan, her eyes rolling.

REGAN WYNGARDE: One hand rested on her black clad hip, the blonde Wyngarde used her free hand to shield her eyes. “--I was really hoping today was going to be a boring one. My shift is almost over.” Her tone was petulant. “Whatever. I’d say no showing off, but I’m the only one who could.”

BOBBI MORSE: “You do realize it’s only been a month, right? I still had to assess and gather evidence. I’m sorry I didn’t blow the whistle fast enough.” That was less apologetic and more annoyed. It felt like marriage counseling again.

SAM WILSON: “I think good ol’ Perry would have started with ‘Hey, girl, let me get in on that’ and then offer them a tour of his basement. Me? I’m happy with what I’ve got. You want to lead the way, Cap?”

CLINT BARTON: "There are people in there that we care about, Bobbi. It just...you could've handled this differently. You know I get it, I just wish I didn't have to."

BOBBI MORSE: Face softening, Bobbi nodded. “I know. I wish it was different. The second Sharon filled me in I either went along with it or had my mind erased, and that wouldn’t have helped anything” Rising to her feet, she unsheathed her battle staves before offering Clint a hand. “Punching things is the only better way to blow off steam than sex.”

CAROL DANVERS: "His basement? Was Perry also the hash slinging slasher?" The ramp hit solid ground and the helicarrier filled with the fading light of day, turning over into purples and blues. She was stepping to the front of the pack to face the Wyngarde's and all of Pleasant Hill when a rush of inertia turned her world a little topsey turvey. With a shove of power through her fists and the bottom of her feet, Carol found stability at the edge of the helicarrier, braced against the wall, just in time to see one of the sisters approach Bucky. "Dammit, I should've read the file." she muttered.

MARTINIQUE WYNGARDE: "Please," Martinique scoffed as she focused her attention on the man with the stupid goggles and metal wings attached to his back. She projected to replace Carol with Regan instead, and made it appear as if she was about to attack James with a knife.

CLINT BARTON: "At least on that we agree." Clint said as he followed suit. He understood better than he wanted to, but that didn't mean he didn't hate that people he cared about were hurting. On autopilot, he nocked an arrow and steadied his bow, rising it just in time for Martinique Wyngarde to shuffle the playing field. Reflexively, he positioned himself just enough to fire the bow at her fist to knock the knife from her grasp.

REGAN WYNGARDE: Finger tapping against her chin, the younger sister observed the heroes unloading. Martinique jumped in instantly, an impetuousness that had never let her be the favorite of their father. “Eenie meenie miney mo,” she hummed under her breath. Noticing the bow being notched, her eyes flashed white before it and the batons of the woman next to the archer vanished. A quick telepathic dive fished out the connection and Regan crossed the field towards them. “You had a lovely honeymoon. Seems like a great day to take a swim, huh?” For Regan, nothing changed. For Barbara Morse and Clint Barton they were suddenly trapped in a room filling with water. Wiping her hands, Regan smiled at her sister. “One point for me and none for you.”

CLINT BARTON: Clint stomped his feet hard, his boots splashing up water that was seeping under his pants and rising above his ankles fast. There was no source for it, which only told him that it wasn't real, but it sure as hell felt real. "I ever tell you I hate swimming? It's an awful activity." He set another arrow and fired at the wall, but the steel just dissolved against the fake walls and splattered into the fake water, only sealing their very real, not fake fates. "Maybe this is why I never signed the divorce papers. You were gonna follow me into death anyway."

BOBBI MORSE: Her staves were gone but Bobbi slammed her shoulder against the wall a few times. “I really hate telepaths.” She grumbled. Bobbi worked with Pleasant Hill. She knew what the Wyngarde’s could do. “Hey, baby?” Bobbi found herself back to back with Clint, using him as leverage to kick at the siding. “Regan Wyngarde’s illusions are strong enough to trick the body. Once we think we’re suffocating, our bodies actually will.” Maybe it was karma. She turned to face him, water now lapping at her chin. “You watched me drown once. That worked out better than this probably will. You know I still love you, right?”

BUCKY BARNES: Commotion broke out on the helicarrier as the Wyngarde’s infiltrated. He'd read the file, he knew that they specialized in illusion based abilities, but he hadn't expected one of them to take the form of Yelena, down to the way she clenched her fists at her sides when things got particularity hairy, always ready to grab a weapon holstered at her hip. To anyone else, this would've been such an easy snare, but James was cynical by nature and not easily disillusioned. He unhitched the rifle from his back holster and cocked it, aiming the barrel level with Yelena's head. "Dumb move, you don't actually think it's that easy to trick me, do you?"

MARTINIQUE WYNGARDE: Martinique glared at her sister, feeling anger flare through her chest as she shook her head and shrugged. As much as she tried not to give into the childish competitiveness that they often got into, she couldn't help it. She always had to prove herself to be better, always had to remind Regan of which of the two of them were older. She diverted her attention to Jessica Drew and pouted. "Your kid's adorable, you know." And with that, suddenly it appeared to Jessica as if her son turned into a porcupine, and then for good measure Martinique had him scurry away quickly towards the bushes.

DAISY JOHNSON: Daisy glared at the two women as everyone in the helicarrier seemed to suddenly lose their minds. She knew they specialized in telepathy and illusions, but other than that it didn't seem like they had a way to defend themselves against a quake. She stepped forward and held her arm around, sending a large shockwave towards the two mutants.

CLINT BARTON: The water was cold as it rushed around them, filling the tank at an alarming speed. They were almost submerged; his hair brushed against the ceiling. There was nowhere left to go. "Really? You're gonna do this now?" Clint said, head tilting down until their foreheads met. "You were always the love of my stupid, stupid life. Maybe I'll get luckier in the next one." He was joking, he always joked when he got nervous. He didn't mean it, but he couldn't break past the need to say it this way. "A stupid illusion." the water was getting higher. "A stupid fucking illusion."

REGAN WYNGARDE: As the dark haired agent Regan had seen inside began to shake the ground, the telepath narrowed her eyes and projected it so it looked as if the ground had dropped away as a result. Now having fun with it, Regan let an illusion roll over her as her body changed. Shorter and far more curved, she wore black jeans with a holster, boots and a dark t-shirt. As Barnes noticed her, she raised an eyebrow almost challengingly. “Nyet.” She spoke into the barrel of the gun with a slight Russian accent. “You’re too smart. Too damaged. But I don’t care.” Taking a step forward, dark painted nails nudged the barrel downwards. “It’d be easier with me. We both know it. I look like her, sound like her. We can all pretend and she can stay where she belongs.”

JESSICA DREW: As Clint and Bobbi suddenly began gasping, Jessica’s head snapped to the side as she saw one of the Mastermind’s appear to have Gerry. “Get the hell away from my son!” But it was too late and he was a porcupine. “You have to be fucking kidding me.” She turned to crawl through the bushes.

MARTINIQUE WYNGARDE: Martinique smirked as Jessica crawled and turned back towards her, continuing the illusion as she made the blood in her veins feel like lead. "Seems like your body's finally catching up with you, Drew." She continued the illusion, making the effects of the poisoning that was constantly plaguing Jessica's body seem to be accelerating.

BOBBI MORSE: Almost half a foot shorter than Clint, Bobbi was paddling to try and stay afloat. “I mean, I’m not sure there’s going to be another time to do it.” Bobbi tried to laugh before almost choking on water. As his forehead hit hers, her eyes briefly closed and she strained to hear him over the sloshing. Aware that she was shaking from the cold, Bobbi tried to button the top of her uniform to try and peel off a layer to make it easier to float. The shaking just increased. “Luckier than me? Never, Barton. I think we tapped out. Let’s be boring next life. Live somewhere warm. No bullshit.” She tried to kiss him, barely managing to reach his lips. “And no stupid fucking illusions.” And with that, Bobbi went under.

CLINT BARTON: There wasn't anymore space. The claustrophobia was intense, careening through any romantic or lovesick thought he could've given in response. He just watched Bobbi go under, the water enveloping around her, helpless to do anything but watch her drown. Again. As the water rose higher up his nose, he tilted his head to get one final breath in before the water went over his head, too.

BUCKY BARNES: He let her, the barrel pointing slightly downward yet his grip tightened around the trigger. The illusion was almost palpable, filling into his senses and spreading into every crack and crevice. He remembered reading how vivid it could feel, how the body would succumb before the mind. "You make a terrible blonde." he said with only a slight tremble in his throat. Forcing himself to move, he released the trigger and instead shifted his grip on the rifle, bringing the side of the gun across Wyngarde's head with a speed only granted by proximity. Even as he made contact, even as he heard the crack of the metal hitting bone, Yelena's form didn't give way into Regan's. It didn't change a bit.

DAISY JOHNSON: Usually it took a second for her shock blasts to hit, but suddenly the floor dropped out from below Daisy and she was falling what seemed to be a pretty lengthy distance. Even if she knew these two could make illusions, that didn't change the fact that this felt very real. Her eyes widened as she desperately tried to grasp onto the sides of the walls, but she just kept falling. And finally, after what felt like forever, she hit the ground with a hard thud that knocked every last breath of wind out of her. She wheezed as she laid on the ground before rolling over and spitting blood out of her mouth. "That... all you got?.."

CAROL DANVERS: It was utter chaos. Carol couldn't get to James or Clint or Bobbi because she was too busy chasing after Jess, who was now on her hands and knees, crawling through nothing. "Jessica fucking Drew-" she grabbed for Jess's shoulder, trying to yank her back. "If you don't get your ass up right now I swear to god I will lob you into space."

LAURA KINNEY: Following Kwannon’s telepathic instructions, Laura had laid low and circled  the perimeter. She could smell a Wyngarde standing next to James despite the difference in appearance, but Laura left him to it as he took her out with a blow from his gun. “Gabby.” She spoke her sisters name quietly, knowing she’d pick up on the sound. Counting to three silently, Laura lunged forwards towards Martinique. Using her momentum, she managed to tackle her with her thighs wrapped around the other mutants torso so she could throw both of them to the ground. Instantly in a crouch, two claws where extended towards Martinique as she left a spot for Gabby.

JESSICA DREW: “You don’t understand.” Jessica ignored Carol. When she touched her the brunette instantly sent a flare of stinging green energy towards her friend. “That a-hole did to Gerry what they did to Roger. I have to find him.” Her body was suffering though, and her crawl stalled as she sat on her knees. “IthinkI’mgoingtopassout.”

WANDA MAXIMOFF: “Enough.” Wanda could see through the illusions. She had been trapped in one of her own, a Westview that momentarily caught her off guard. But the people weren’t real. It only took the sight of her fake husband and children to snap out of it and scarlet exploded off of the Witch as she broke free. Regan Wyngarde was lying prone on the ground even though she looked like Yelena Belova. When Wanda lifted a hand red ate its way over the unconscious form and revealed its true shape. The illusions around the field slowly began to disintegrate and fade in clouds of red as Wanda hung suspended above it all. “I think we should be done with that.”

GABBY KINNEY: Gabby followed nearby, trying to lay low and not draw attention from either of the Wyngarde sisters as she listened to Laura and nodded, sneaking up on the other side of Martinique before she clawed across Martinique's stomach. She intentionally didn't go deep enough to kill, but definitely enough to maim as Martinique let out a scream and threw her head back. "Should we knock her out? We should knock her out, right?" She tried to raise her voice a bit over the screaming.

CAROL DANVERS: "Then pass out, you crazy baby obsessed freak." Carol said, words lined with concern as she shook out her hand. Crouching next to Jess, she braced her arms out, ready to catch, just as the illusion started to die away. They were left in the field, just adjacent to the helicarrier, no porcupines or bushes in sight. "Jess?" Carol asked, hesitantly.

DAISY JOHNSON: As the illusion lifted, Daisy could finally take a deep breath of air again as she came back to reality. She was laying on the helicarrier floor, a little disoriented as she brushed herself off and slowly used one of the side benches to stand herself up. "Bobbi? Clint? You guys good?"

JESSICA DREW: “You should try having a kid. They consume your every thought.” Jess slurred. Now having Carol’s approval, her eyes rolled back in her head and she swooned to the side. A moment later the illusion ceased, and Jessica blinked and sat up once more. Running her had over her face, she glanced around the field in confusion. “Gerry’s not a porcupine, is he? But Roger still is.”

CLINT BARTON: Clint swallowed air with a heave, inhaling so intensely that he began coughing, body lurching forward. He grabbed at his chest, hands slapping against dry clothing; against his holster and accessory weapons. Everything was in place, he was dry, he could breathe. Bobbi--- he shifted so quickly he almost smacked into her. They were both on the ground, against the wall of the helicarrier. Dry, unharmed, alive. "What a fucking dream." he said to himself once he'd regained his breath. "All one big fucking nightmare." he looked up at the sound of Johnson's voice. "Yeah. One of them must've knocked me out." He slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off like he could still feel water beneath his suit. "Always gotta bring the bow and arrow guy along to take the bulk of the beating, huh."

CAROL DANVERS: "Which is why I already have one. You." Carol took the bulk of her weight until Jess popped back up, taking her and her weight with her. "Gerry's not here, Jess. Gocking is, well. Would you rather I say he's safe at home?"

JESSICA DREW: Rising on wobbly feet, Jessica leaned against Carol for a moment of support. Although she had yet to tell her friend, Martinique was right. Her body was killing her. “No. I don’t think I want to say anything on it. Who saved the day?”

LAURA KINNEY: As Martinique began to trash, Laura moved to straddle her with her knee pressured against her solar plexus. “If you have someone who can create illusions and kill people, you’re always going to knock them out. Basic rule, Gabby.” In one quick motion Laura rose and drove her foot into Martinique’s temple. “Easy.”

GABBY KINNEY: "I mean I got the no killing her part down, didn't I? Does that not count for something?" Gabby snorted, laughing a little as Laura kicked Martinique in the head. "I totally could have done that."

BOBBI MORSE: For what wasn’t the first time in her life, Bobbi was pretty sure she died. Which, like every other time, was a bummer. Her lungs had stopped straining for air when out of nowhere it came flooding in to fill her lungs with such and intensity that she gagged. Body slumped against her ex-husbands, it took a second for Bobbi’s brain to catch up. “I’m taking time off after this.” She mumbled. “And I’m going away. Far away.” The top layer of her suit had been discarded to the side of her, and Bobbi buttoned it back on before grabbing her staves and hooking them back into her holster. “I knew I didn’t like those two.”

KWANNON: Picking her way through the field of recovering people, the raven haired telepath made her way first towards the Black Widow. She had psychically blocked herself off from the Wyngarde’s, and as a superior telepath that had allowed her time to pick through the mind of the still unconscious Sharon Carter. Relaying the information to Natasha, she followed the spies suggestion and moved to where James Barnes stood by Regan. “Her father is just as bad.” She commented quietly before dropping her voice and telling him, “Astrid Massey. Twenty-One. She’s a nursing student. Natasha said you would want to know.”

DAISY JOHNSON: "So what's our next move?" Daisy asked, pausing before turning to address Natasha. She knew she wasn't going to be able to make all of this up to them right away, but she was going to do what was right. The time to gather intel was over, it was time to figure out a game plan. "I'll do whatever you guys need me to do. I'm.. really sorry, that I didn't come out and say something sooner. It didn't feel like I had the option to. If Sharon found out.. well, like Bobbi said, we'd probably be locked away in here somewhere too. But as far as I'm concerned, Maria Hill can kiss my ass."

BUCKY BARNES: The illusion had dissolved, letting James confirm Regan's identity before turning his attention towards Psylocke. He still kept a guard against Regan while he listened, his gun pointed down at aimed at her unconscious form. "Thank you." He said thinly. He was so fucking tired of people messing with his and Yelena's mind.

JANE DOE/RIPLEY RYAN: There was a ripple. It was a slight stirring of reality tampering that slowly moved across Westview from its border. The Reality Stone that lived inside of Pleasant Hill’s Jane Doe responded to its multiversal sister when the Scarlet Witch used her magic outside the town. In an unprecedented move, the Town Database crashed for a singular moment. It only took that second for a blonde to materialize in the field by the border, clothed only in a hospital gown with unkempt blonde hair. A plastic hospital bracelet hung off one boney wrist as she stared at the group. “This isn’t right.”

CAROL DANVERS: "Ripley?" Carol said as she stood, hauling Jess to her feet with her. "For a brief, minute moment I wondered where you'd scampered off to. I guess I'm not entirely surprised it's here."

JANE DOE/RIPLEY RYAN: “Ripley.” The woman repeated blankly. “No. No, I don’t think so. Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be.”

CAROL DANVERS: Carol took a tentative step forward, closer to Ripley. "Then who are you? Why aren't we supposed to be here?"

JANE DOE/RIPLEY RYAN: At the question, genuine confusion and dismay washed over her face. She should know that, shouldn’t she? The sedatives that they had been pumping through her system dulled any red flags. Although she was still at first as the other woman approached, Jane took a step towards her and reached out to touch her arm. As soon as she made contact with the fabric of the uniform, the red in her chest lit up the thin gown. Red washing over her features, she looked back up at Carol as the Database once again manipulated the Stone inside of her. “I’m supposed to bring you home.” In a burst of red Carol Danvers vanished.

SAM WILSON: Watching the interaction warily, Sam took a step forward when what appeared to be Ripley touched Carol’s arm. Then, his girlfriend was gone completely and he was in front of the blonde within a second. Grasping both of her shoulders, Sam stared her down only to meet an unfocused gaze. “No, no. We’ve played this game before. Bring her back. Pleasant Hill isn’t our home, or yours. Bring her back or I swear to God, I’ll --- not again. Not this.”

JANE DOE/RIPLEY RYAN: The Database technician was already at work. Through his monitors he observed the group at the border and quickly typed in commands to have the Stone absorb people into the town. America Chavez. Cindy Moon. Clint Barton. Gwen Stacy. Jessica Drew. Kate Bishop. Kwannon. Laura Kinney. Matthew Murdock. Miles Morales. Natasha Romanoff. Scott Lang. He would have continued on but the connection cut out. Under the instructions of Dr. Jessup they had no choice but to recall Ryan back inside the hospital before she came to. Just like that, the Pleasant Hill border was silent once more.

SAM WILSON: Standing there in the aftermath, Sam couldn’t help but let out an angry, “Fuck.” Red disappearing, he looked to Wanda but she just shook her head. If her own abilities had been a catalyst for Ripley appearing they couldn’t risk an encore. “We’ve gotta...” he glanced around. “Sound off.” The heroes remaining made themselves known. Bobbi Morse. Cassie Lang. Daisy Johnson. Gabby Kinney. James Barnes. Jessica Jones. Nathan Summers. Peter Parker. Monica Rambeau. Riri Williams. Rogue. Sam Alexander. Sam Wilson. Sharon Carter. Stephen Strange. Steve Rogers. Vivian Vision. Wanda Maximoff. Sam listened to them all speak and nodded. “So we got a few let then.”

BOBBI MORSE: “We need to divide.” Bobbi announced. “I've got about twelve reality blocker chips on me that could help us get in that I was supposed to distribute. Anyone up a trip into hell?”

JESSICA JONES: “Jesus Christ, no.” Jessica shook her head. She was still reeling from a vision of Kilgrave. “I didn’t want to do this and now I *really* don’t want to do this. Plus, I’m out of whiskey.”

WANDA MAXIMOFF: Locking eyes with Strange, Wanda spoke after a moment. “I’ll go home and study. See what I can learn. I shouldn’t be here. My abilities drew Ripley out. They don’t want me here. I need to go to Krakoa though, I can bring someone with me.”

SAM WILSON: It was decided. Jessica Jones would be brought back to New York by Strange, and Wanda would accompany Rogue to Krakoa while Cable returned the Wyngarde sisters to the Island. Sharon would be brought into Pleasant Hill along with the rescue task force, but without Kwannon they were lacking a back up plan. The task force would consist of Bobbi Morse, Cassie Lang, Daisy Johnson, Gabby Kinney, James Barnes, Peter Parker, Monica Rambeau, Riri Williams, Sam Alexander, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers and Vivian Vision. As each team broke off and vanished into the dying light, Sam took a deep breath before following Bobbi to the gate. In and out. That was the plan, but it wasn’t likely to be reality.

[uniteordie-usa]

ALERT: Climate Engineering out of control

http://uniteordie-usa.com/alert-climate-engineering-out-of-control/ http://uniteordie-usa.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/Water-Vapor-2017-09-12-600x335.png ALERT: Climate Engineering out of control If you live in USA you may have noticed recently the weather is really weird.  As this is not being widely reported in the ALT media, we felt an obligation to start a conversation.  So let’s lead into this with a bombastic statement – Raytheon (RTN) controls the weather.  How is this...

If you live in USA you may have noticed recently the weather is really weird.  As this is not being widely reported in the ALT media, we felt an obligation to start a conversation.  So let’s lead into this with a bombastic statement – Raytheon (RTN) controls the weather.  How is this possible you say?  Let’s start with a background on GeoEngineering / Climate Modifcation whatever you call it.  There’s basically one site, well documented, that has a list of information and documents including but not limited to laws passed by the US Senate, Patents filed on climate modification technology, and related issues, start with the documents section here.

This recent ZH article outlines the latest info bits from the winter freeze.

So why do ‘they’ do this you ask?  There are several clear answers to this.  Like anything, follow the money.  America, Inc. has commercialized everything from child care to even the weather.

Weather Wars are one of many new next generation military tactics used against US enemies.  Imagine the plausible deniability!  If you look at US enemies, for example North Korea, it hasn’t rained there in years.  The famine, blamed on the nut job leader, is really a result of the lack of rain.  Farms have not been able to grow crops in 12 years.  It was successful, to the point that it accomplished what it set out to. You can see a similar theme in Iraq, Cuba, and other enemies high on the list.  We’re not criticizing US Military strategy here, actually it’s extremely intelligent.  We’re just pointing out that for Military applications, manipulating the weather has obvious benefits.  (See this published report – “Owning the Weather”)

Commerce.  Under the military economic thinking, destruction is creation.  It’s a paradoxical doctrine but yet it persists in the culture of the Army which by the way is 60% private.  Yes that’s right, the majority of the military are corporations, public and private, like Raytheon (RTN), Lockheed (LMT), and many others.  This is a big category so we’re going to have to break this down into:

Environmental cleanup.  Here’s how it works, big industry pollutes the environment.  Real capitalism involves the creation of toxic waste.  The civil rights movement and labor laws have prevented most abuses of employees at least in the USA (compared to what it was 100 years ago) however big corporations just mostly moved offshore.  However it did little for the environment.  Factories, automobiles, overcrowded cow pastures, poorly maintained nuclear facilities, and hundreds of other hazards are slowly destroying the planet.  One purpose of climate engineering programs is to reverse some of these effects, the topic for another article.  By creating an artificial haze in the air, with various metals, it would create an additional layer of protection and potentially ‘cool’ the planet to counterbalance an overall warming trend (or something to that affect).  Practically there is not enough public data to make proper analysis so we’re not going to bother searching.  This is all done on a private basis.

Destroy/Rebuild.  South Florida and Houston and Southern California have been severely damaged.  With the exception of the insurance industry, contractors and companies like Bechtel are going to make a fortune.  Emergencies get Federal funds too, and it’s not something that someone can have a problem with as far as releasing the budget – it’s always approved.  Who wants to deny some poor family FEMA funds to rebuild their house after a major storm?  It’s just a way to get money for rebuilding something that should have been built properly in the first place.  People who live in South Florida in wood houses on the beach should not be surprised if a Hurricane destroys it.

Weather dependent commodities.  When the last Hurricane pummeled South Florida the price of FCOJ went through the roof.  Now, as this recent storm freezes the Northeast, it’s NatGas that’s exploding.  There’s no telling how this information can be used to gain an edge in markets, or to influence some business one way or another (either by destroying the competition, or by helping the repair companies gain business).  There’s a number of strategies afoot here.  We don’t have access to their operations manuals, obviously, so we can only guess.  But we can put our bets that whoever stands to gain, whoever is profiting, is somehow involved (even if indirectly) with this deal.  You can note that when there’s a big storm Raytheon (RTN) stock gets a little boost.

Unknown Goals.  There can be PsyOps at play here, or a number of political goals, or something like how Howard Hughes bought up property along the San Andreas fault line waiting for ‘the big one’ to break off California into the sea, leaving him with beachfront property.  The weather is a powerful force and there can be vast power and riches for those who control it.  This is probably why this is such a secret!

Possibly, a whistle-blower will come forward with some evidence.  Everything presented here logically is based on circumstantial and anecdotal evidence.  The 1996 paper published by the Air Force was a research paper, and the Air Force has come out publicly multiple times stating this is not policy and this was just ‘theoretical.’  We haven’t had an Edward Snowden event for geo engineering, but perhaps we will.

The most compelling evidence is right above us.  Look up in the sky.  For those over 30 years old and especially for those 60 and older, that cannot recall ‘contrails’ from the 70s (If ‘chemtrails’ are just jet ‘contrails’ why didn’t they exist in the 70s and 80s and early 90s?)

Why has the weather in USA been so GOOD and so BAD particularly in US enemies?  They are not ‘clients’ of the program?

This global map is revealing:

Here’s two well researched articles for further reading:

https://www.globalresearch.ca/the-ultimate-weapon-of-mass-destruction-owning-the-weather-for-military-use-2/5306386 

https://www.globalresearch.ca/weather-warfare-beware-the-us-military-s-…

So in conclusion, is this really a ‘bad’ thing?  Not necessarily, just like with any black project, the ultimate conflict exists, and will persist, as long as such programs remain in the dark.  Until they come out in public, it’s probably a good idea to add the following stocks to your retirement portfolio:  RTN, GD, BA (LON), COL, LLL …

The chance that these businesses will ‘cannibalize’ due to a Bitcoin paradigm shift or any other are slim to none.  They have an artificial self-created business engine that practically guarantees that as long as the current US government exists in its current form, which it will likely for hundreds of years – there will be ‘enemies’ and ‘weather’ and many other problems only these companies can solve.  And if there is peace, and good weather, they will create wars, and storms.  Hey – they need to put food on the table.

For a good look at how the world really works, checkout Splitting Pennies www.splittingpennies.com (and Splitting Bits, the sequel)

[sagebodisattva]

Free Will & Determinism - Causality and Dependent Origination

Alright. So in part 3 in this series on free will and determinism, we will look to tie up some of the related concepts of these proposed theorems together into something concise and comprehensive. So, to be clear: To even begin the investigative inquiry into these matters with the consideration of reality as a template of either free will or determinism, gets it wrong before even making it out of the gate; as it is an erroneous approach, as this type of stance bases a strategy on: assuming a faulty premise and then using it to address a false dichotomy. To get heavily invested into arguments staged in this way, is to fall prey to a form of sophism. This is a deceptive method employed that has you fooled on so many philosophical fronts; wasting time getting lost in duplicitous arguments whose only goal is to keep you distracted, diverted and submissive to the rules of a lie. This is why, in philosophy, a perennial maxim is to QUESTION EVERYTHING, including the framework, the fundamentals and the nature of that which formulates the query. One must question that which is doing the questioning, before moving on to question anything beyond. This is called philosophical integrity. And, of course, THEY are gonna scoff and be dismissive of this, and entreat you to take it for granted, and pressure you to only focus on the sensory data feed streaming in your field of perception; because this type of focus reinforces your delusion, of which, they are also in delusion, but this okay, for then everyone is equally in delusion. They have no idea of who or what they are, no more then you do, but will nevertheless encourage the practice of choosing to assume a lie, so as to not upset the conditions of falsehood, the lifeblood of delusion. As long as you play the game according to the rules of delusion, you are an inconsequential player. And this is no problem. A problem will only arise if and when you begin to reject the falsehoods; then you become a danger and a threat to the status quo of delusion, for if you ever discover the truth, you will be out of the influence of the oppressive inculcation that seeks to conform you into a submissive disposition. And if you ever manage to gain this independence, you will be able to begin building up real power of the mind, for the truth is raw and potent, and breaks all binds of mental slavery, and then you will be free. And then they will have no way to stop you. And this simply will not do. All of this can potentially unfold with the simple practice of introspective inquiry.

So always question everything, including that which you call your self. What is this "self", and what is this possessive "your" to which this "self" belongs? Question it all. Even if you are just maintaining the role of a doubting skeptic with no position, it's still far less egregious then maintaining a position of some stubborn investment in delusion. On the spiritual journey, I think you'll find that a skeptic is a far better travel companion then a value junky. Skeptics have their issues to be sure, but are still in a far better position to handle the truth then those that are so stuffed up with lies that they can't even palate the truth, much less digest it. And there's no rush in this, so take your time. Much of this will be a matter of mastering patience, of which dedication, and the trail and error, can be extensive. There's no need to hastily commit to a position. It's completely okay to just continue to tread water until you finally get your mind right. And it's very important to get the mind right; as evil only holds an amount of power equal to our ignorance that awareness is our true essence. One should really examine this obstinate conditioning of the mind that always seems to want to consciously and unconsciously insist that reality is independent of the mind. This is the heart of the externalization conditioning: the denial of awareness as the fundamental axiom, in favor of beliefs about unsubstantial transient impermanent phenomena of the senses. And this is foolish, as trying to refute or deny awareness disqualifies the very attempt; as to reject awareness is to reject the very framework of your rejection. Remember, if you don't have the truth as a premise, you are like a dog chasing it's own tail; or a hamster forever running around on the wheel of infinity. Constantly on the move, and going nowhere fast. The proud, stubborn, arrogant, histrionic ego, that apparently has so much knowledge about falsehood that there is no longer any room left for the truth. It's an unfortunate situation.

But, anyway, let's go ahead and deconstruct some of the ego's attachments to free will or determinism, and hopefully, finally put to rest this absurd notion of the existence of a reality template. In the last video we went over the fact that it can be scientifically proven that inspiration and impulse seem to originate in the subconscious, which basically destroys all chances of the ego consciousness having free will. The ego experiences the results of a free will, indeed may even have the illusion of a free will, but the facts point towards the function of this utility operating prior to conscious awareness of it. So, in this sense, at least from the perspective of the ego, it is, for all intents and purposes, automated, which, when taken into account with the full implications of it's meaning, indicate that, although automatic, which implies determination, automation itself composes the essence of a spontaneously occurring system, as it has no need of assistance from the thoughts or intentions of a conscious mind. Yet, while true that the conscious mind has no free will to initiate, it is, however, free to respond and react to the pre-determined impulses that come under it's charge from the subconscious. This type of setup still leaves room for the consciousness to change or alter the course of a chain of events, due to having the flexibility of an open ended reaction in an open ended time frame, which determinism fails to demonstrate consistent reliable control over, while still holding true to the law of cause and effect. And of course, this is the ego's number one argument used to support determinism: causality. Of which, will be dissected and deconstructed concurrently...

Just pointing at causality, which is so often used as a staple mainstay of fatalistic philosophy, isn't evidence for the complete dominance of a deterministic paradigm. But Sage, are you saying that the universe isn't governed by cause and effect? You know, it's strange to constantly hear people refer to mental phenomena as a "universe", as if it's an actual place existing somewhere. Yes, there is something like cause and effect at play existentially, but what cause and effect actually is, is largely misunderstood. And this is due, once again, to addressing an existential quandary with a fallacious philosophical approach. There is no actual cause and effect actually existing in some literal location. That isn't what can be said about cause and effect. What CAN be said, is within illusion, there is an impression of cause and effect, but as far as identifying this for what it really is, let us not forget what gives cause and effect it's context. We WANT cause and effect to BE the context, or to, perhaps, at least be some type of structured spectrum wherein cause and effect acts as the apparent all encompassing law, but these wishful abstractions miss the mark completely, as they are still making the same old mistake of externalizing the truth again. A medium isn't the reality. A law of a medium isn't the reality. Reality is that which gives mediums and laws of mediums a contextualization. So, knowing this, it can be understood that cause and effect are the workings of a purely mental facility, not the governance of some external container. Hence, with this in mind, pun intended, let's explore how cause and effect actually work in illusion. It's not as rigidly clockwork, as many of us would like to believe, for, as just previously stated: cause and effect are not rules of an externally existing medium, but are simply a phenomena of the illusion of sensory perception. So, how does this cause and effect work? A cause will bring about an effect, and the effect can then be considered a contributor to a current condition, but where this condition goes from this point can be potentially limitless, as the essence of reality is limitless potentiality. In other words, once a cause is effectuated, the effectuation itself a spontaneous impulse of free will, the unfolding of the cause is determined, and the resulting condition will correspond accordingly, but after the condition has been modified as such, where the condition goes from here is open ended again. And there's not necessarily any rule that states that a condition has to develop any further. A condition can decay and disperse, if no further cause is implemented. So there's a gap between the apparent cycle of cause and effect; much like the notes played in an improvisational jazz solo. Determinism fails to take these gaps into account. I think the issue is that people conceptualize cause and effect as a constant chain that forever extends, but this is an abstraction trying to establish structure on an externalization.

In truth, as said earlier, this matter is a concern of a purely mental spectrum. Causes and effects and the conditions they foster are all states... states of mind, to be exact. The reason why the gap is imperceptible is due to the constant engagement of the attention with these states, with little to no quieting of the mind. I posit that the default nature of the mind is serene. Quiet. Motionless. Static superposition, if you will. Like the surface of still water. Smooth and undisturbed. A cause would be like a disturbance to this zero point condition. For example, you make a sound, a humming noise, the cause, the sound creates vibrations which cause the water to move, creating a ripple, the effect, and this rippling plays out completely deterministically, unless otherwise effected. The misconception of cause and effect as a constant chain comes from only having a frame of reference from within the ripple... but if the source of the sound ceases, and this ripple runs it's course, and comes to stillness again, anything further beyond this point is dependent on that which might make additional sounds; that which derives it's inspiration from a spontaneous origin; the mother of all causes; the source of dependent origination. And speaking of which, let's touch on dependent origination, the eastern philosophical principle that states that all dharmas ("things") arise in dependence upon other dharmas: "if this exists, that exists; if this ceases to exist, that also ceases to exist." That is: all physical and mental states depend on and arise from other pre-existing states, and in turn from them arise other dependent states while they cease. This is basically a description of the ripple. Everything within the ripple, that is, all that transpires between birth and death, are interconnected states that are dependent on one another. And when it can be appreciated that there really isn't a dichotomy here, that, in truth, there really isn't any physical states, but that, in fact, physicality is just another aspect of a mental state, then it can be understood that any possible so called states are mental states, and while all possible mental states are all dependent on one another to persist or desist, all states are equally dependent on one original source: the one mind. Pure potentiality. The empty nature of our true essence. That which produces all vibrations that create all the rippling waves of manifestation. If we direct our attention to the source of the attention, and meditate on this, and bring it to stillness, ceasing to create any new vibrations, there will also cease to be any causes or effects, and all that will be is peace and serenity.