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szynkaaa · 4 years ago

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I more or less watched The Boy!!! And by watching, I mean I skipped more or less through the jump scare parts because I cannot do horror movies at all. I haven’t watched one since 2015 and The Boy was like the first horror movie after five years

Full disclosure, the ONLY reason I started watching the movie was because someone posted a gif of Greta standing close to Brahms who was all sweaty and breathing heavily n I was like “oh shit who dat he hot” and here I am

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

I did some digging for interviews and generally what people have been saying about the movie, took some screenshots from youtube to put my thoughts and musing together too!

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

So first of all, let’s start with a low resolution photo I found on IG of James Russell without mask:

which brings me to my first musing/thought/question?

It’s all under the cut, very screenshot and text heavy, you can find more Brahms drawing at the bottom though ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So at the end of the movie, we are shown a Brahms with a broken mask and his face being burned, indicating that he was in fact in the fire.

I assumed first that the fire was created by the parents to fake their sons death and then he had to live hidden inside the walls?

But I’ve also heard apparently it was Brahms who set the fire to fake his own death or maybe an eight years old kid really was trying to burn himself down??

My other theory is that his parents made the fire and tried to kill Brahms and it did burn him but he survived, and the parents didn’t wanna go to jail sooo to hide everything they made their son live in the walls

i mean the responsible thing would be to turn their kid in and have him treated and stuff;;; listened to a murder podcast about two cases where kids murdered enough kids and how they are doing now interesting read Brahms made me think of those two cases

I also do not think that the previous nannies were killed. Like, c’mon. You’d report a person missing and sooner or later it would go back to the Heelshire mansion and if the body counts piles up? Can’t look good and I doubt that the Heelshire wants the police investigating them close up.

Also, when the mom was like “He’s chosen you if you’ll have him” to Greta? Is it just me or the wording or does it sound like a marriage proposal/arrangement xD

Brahms is a brat and he sees the people around him as his possession or to toy around. But I also do think that he has some abandonment issues but not in the sad tragic kind of way lmao. Even if he was the one controlling and manipulating his parents from behind-the-scene (quite literally I suppose?), he was still told as a kid to live in hiding and that no one can know he is alive. I don’t know much about the human brain, but I can imagine how damaging that must be to his mental growth and set him back in some way? We don’t know too much about his relationship with his parents - but I assume that he must have still loved them in his own twisted way. Can’t imagine that he would have been indifferent about his parents suicide.

The scene before Greta manages to back out - first he uses the child voice to beg her to come back and promises he will be good. That’s his manipulating Greta, but when that doesn’t work and she tries harder to open the door, he becomes more desperate to keep her there and then completely loses his temper and threatens to kill Malcolm if she doesn’t return. I’m pretty sure homeboy would have killed him anyway. And then later when she returns and he is all heavy breathing and smelling her hair and then jumps up when she shouts Brahms? Idk I def think there is some sort of abandonment issue going on.

I don’t think he is a child stuck in a man’s body or manchild or whatever. I think that he does know how to take care of himself - but he just chooses to manipulate people with the facade of a kid to do his bidding and cater to his needs.

Anywhomst, but clearly Brahms is also a very manipulative and controlling person based, based on how the mother was reacting on the destroyed bedroom, she really seemed to be at the end of her wits and just breaking down with her “you promised you’d be good”. It was very heartbreaking to watch and also scary because it really makes you realize just how much power Brahms holds over them?? idk maybe it was just me.

Next point: the CGI mask + the burns

So according to some interviews with the director stated that at the first test streaming, people weren’t really scared of Brahms because he was too handsome so they had to slap a mask over his face. The face was done after everything was filmed. I’m thinking the face burns were also added post-production when they were adding the cgi mask. Otherwise, James would have needed to go through the makeup department for some wicked face burns and it would have been visible during the filming and test screening too? Which would imply that at first the fire was supposed to be just a cover story that their son is dead and it was changed later

Observation/thoughts on Brahms Heelshire

Love how he stands there with his hands behind his back and then nods when Greta tells him to go under the cover

James Russell is 191cm tall. So like. Brahms is really fucking tall. But I notice that most of the time he stands with a slight hunch. Could be due to him crawling through the walls and crawling out of places that requires him to do a lot of crouching. His bed in his hideout made me really sad, I’ll get to it later.

Since James didn’t get many lines in the ten minutes that he appeared, I do think that his eyes did all the acting. They stand out even more with the mask on, there is just this crazy look on it. I also noticed during my rewatch that he doesn’t seem to blink much or at all.

Oh yeah, he also peeped on Greta and Malcolm making out on the bed and then cockblocked them. We been knowing that he made a Greta doll and very likely jerked off to it. We also been knowing that he very very very likely wanted to bone Greta at the goodnight kiss scene still waiting for the maskeless kiss scene gimme gimme. I also highly doubt that Brahms has much first-hand experience with kissing n stuff. High key thinking he was trying to do copy Malcolm and do what he observed lmao

When I first watched the scene, I assumed that the hole behind the mirror has always been and it’s just another one of the hidden passages Brahms to slip in and out, but now that I’m looking at the shape of the holes, it seems to me more like the mirror and brick wall were broken at the same time?? If that is the case holy shit boy is s t r o n g. I mean, he also punched through the closet door like no big deal so really what have the parents been feeding him.

I’m also leaning toward the fact that he ran there because Greta screamed loudly. I don’t think he was in the room as them when everything went down there, it seemed more like he heard the scream and had to nyoomed over and then punched a way through to get out of the wall. And then went on to attack Cole. He must have known that Greta wanted Cole gone, since that what she whispered to the doll before going to bed.

Tbh, I fully expected him to murder Cole in his sleep, but Brahms wrote a warning message in blood to tell him to get out soooooo like. Cole you were warned and now you gotta live with the consequences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Brahm’s sleeping corner

This scene was shown at the end after Greta and Malcolm escaped. We also see them briefly during the part where Greta and Malcolm are trying to find a way out and stumbled into Brahms’ hideout. I’m not sure why the rules are slapped on the walls. It seems to me that Brahms is very very very set on that the rules / routine should be followed. In the movie, he called Greta and suggested to her that she should follow the rules, to which she then started doing it.

I headcanon that that’s the routine that he grew up with as a kid and it’s just very very very very very hard to break out of it - not that he is trying to break the routine.

I’m failing to find a good way to put my thoughts into words, but I guess the rules and routine is sort of his coping mechanism?

I suppose if you had an OC that you ship Brahms with and want to change stuff around the house, the OC would have to very slowly introduce new rules and routines. Baby steps, yknow.

Brahms has a violin hanging there! Honestly I would be surprised if Brahms didn’t know how to play at least one instrument. The family also has an old ass piano/clavichord (?) and Brahms loves classical music soo yeah. Love me a boy who appreciates classical musical hehe

I suppose the egg boxes are there to soundproof the room more - maybe so he can play the violin?

There’s also music sheets hung around his attics, it’s not clear on the screenshots but when you rewatch the scene and shove your face close to the screen. Some are hanging next to the violin and there are some taped on the wall next to his bed and porn too

nice to see he has a fridge and microwave, I was concerned that he wasn’t well fed and that leftovers might not be enough, but then again. Dude is 191 cm so clearly he has been drinking his milk

Didn’t take a screenshot of his vanity, but there is a crocodile magnet stuck to the mirror hehe. I do think that he shaves and stuff, otherwise his beard would be much longer??

We can see more music sheets stuck to a pillar on the right.

Loving the christmas lights that he has hanging there above his bed. It’s cute.

On the shelf he has a bunch of tupperware and empty bowls. Most of hte things are neatly organized. We can also see some books and a pen

There’s some sunlight streaming inside - I do hope that Brahmsy stays warm during winters.

Here we can see more of the food that he has there - there is also a sink but I didn’t snatch a screenshot of it. I think those are potatoes in the pot? Maybe he does know how to cook some basic stuff, I do wonder if he has a functioning kitchen up there. Probably not for fire safety reasons lol

Yall see that thing on the note sheet covered pillar? Ngl, that’s a whole ass aesthetic right there.

He got a few potted plants up there. Took a closer look at them and it seems like they were healthy. So he knows how to take care of plants, which is nice to know I suppose?

Yes, we all know what he was doing with the doll and what the tissue balled up tissue implies. However, has anyone noticed the size of the bed???

If you scroll up a bit to the screenshot of Greta seeing the doll, it looks t i n y. The make shift doll takes up more than half of the space.

Yall. this breaks my heart. Dude is a beanstalk. I’m pretty sure the bed is from when he was a kid shoved by his parents to live inside the wall, does he have to sleep there in his adulthood too???

Even though Brahms strikes me as someone who probably doesn’t sleep much or during normal times, that bed must be so tiny for him. He must be sleeping with his knees bend and shit unable to stretch out :(((

Brahms: is a psychopath that smashed the skull of a girl and very abusive tormented his parents and then Greta Me: omg he needs a bigger bed that poor thing :(((

Brahms’ DIY corner

Ah yes, Brahm’s little DIY/creative corner.

Homeboy got lot of animal traps, cages and taxidermies hanging around, pointing strongly toward that it’s a hobby of it?

Also at the end where we see him fixing up the doll, we can get a better shot at his desk, and I gotta say the threads and stuff are all very nicely organized. Brahms’s table looks more organized than mine does lmao.

So we know he is a crafty boy. Not sure how difficult taxidermy is but I imagine it does take a lot of time to learn? Well he had all the time in the world anyway.

So yeah, that’s a wrap. Congrats if you made it to the bottom of my incoherent thoughts and ramblings, have a bonus drawing of Brahms wearing different masks:

#the ham talks #brahms heelshire #the boy #the boy 2016 #brahms #brahmbling

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ikesenhell · 6 years ago

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Burning Secrets

Bloodline, Chapter 2. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: Ayana is @jindalraekarkki’s lovely OC! Thank you so much!

Generally speaking, requests for further information went through their intelligence officers, but the very last thing Ieyasu wanted to do was consult Mitsunari. He also was free to just wait and see what Mitsuhide turned up.

But he really wasn’t feeling much like waiting. He’d waited for decades.

Fortunately, he wasn’t at a loss for archives. Being so near the capital left him a thousand to choose from, so he did a bit of research and puttered into the parking lot of an unassuming office building the next day. It looked as if he might be the only one there. That was just fine with him.

Swinging the door open, he took a step inside and inhaled the dry scent of books. Row after row of old paperbacks stood to the right of him, a desk to the left. There, a short woman blinked at him. She was quite beautiful, if a little surprising--Ieyasu wasn’t certain for a moment that she was human. With long, dark hair and bright green eyes, clad in a pastel pink jacket, she looked more like a living doll.

“Good morning.” She was very quiet, too. Gently she set down her book, peering shyly over the counter at him. “Can I help you today?”

He cast a single glance at her name tag. Ayana. “Yeah. Looking for some newspaper sources from October 1993. Where can I find that?”

“Oh, um, that’d be something our archivist can get a hold of. If you wouldn’t mind waiting a moment, I can fetch her.”

“Sure.”

She hopped off her chair and pattered into the back room, emerging only a minute later with another woman. Annoyingly she wore no nametag. Her short hair swung in loose waves around her jaw, a pair of glasses perched on her head.

“Hello. You wanted to look in our newspaper archive?”

“Yes. October 1993, specifically in Washington, D.C.”

“I think we have some of those. Come with me and we’ll take a look.”

They passed through aisle after aisle of meticulously cataloged books, each row stacked high. Halogen lights peered dimly into the shadowy corners. Out of habit, Ieyasu surveyed everything. He’d never seen such extensive anti-fire measures--it seemed like a sprinkler lurked in every inch of ceiling.

“Afraid of fires?”

“Of course.” She grinned at him. “We’ve got a bit of a top notch fire system. Three backup systems, each independent of each other, sprinklers for every nook and cranny, monthly checks on the smoke detectors... We can’t risk losing our extensive collection.”

Ieyasu hadn’t really been all that interested, but it was good to know. He followed her far into the back corner. There, a series of grey filing cabinets lined the walls; in no time, she flipped through three drawers, producing several plastic covered copies of newspapers.

“If you need our copier, I suggest our low-impact one in the corner, to best preserve the paper and for the highest level of resolution. Do you need anything else?”

“This should be suitable. Thank you.”

He took his copies back to his apartment and poured over them. Fortunately, the specifics were such that he didn’t have to hunt too hard. Back in the Entertainment section, he found what he was looking for: details on the event at the Kennedy Center. Apparently it was some kind of fundraiser. Frustrated, he turned the page and found the photos.

And one of them was his mother.

Ieyasu paused for a long, long time, looking at her. The paper was in black and white, but even so he knew she was radiant. Her blonde hair, so much like his, was pulled back in a long braid. She held a wine glass and smiled broadly at the camera. Her long dress swept the floor, and to her right was another man smiling with her.

Why was he so familiar?

Ieyasu squinted at the photo, trying to make sense of him. No caption under the photo provided details as to his identity, but Ieyasu had the prickling sense that he knew the man. Where the hell from? Something in the lines of his face felt so familiar that he wanted to throw the paper. Well--there was only one person to ask.

He called the phone number and prayed for his aunt. Wrong. His Uncle’s gruff voice came through the speaker instead. “Evening.”

“Evening. I’ve got a question.”

“I’ve got a lot for you too, boy, but okay. We can start with yours.”

How kind of you, Ieyasu wanted to snark, but he just inhaled sharply. “I happened across a photo of Mom from ‘93.”

A pause. “Did you now? Where did you find that?”

“It’s a long story. I was sorting through some paperwork for the precinct and found an old copy of a newspaper. It happened to have a photo of her.”

“You sure it was her?”

What was that kind of question? “Yes,” Ieyasu answered irritably. “But that’s not the question. She’s standing with someone in the picture that is very familiar to me, but I’m not sure how. Darkish hair, bright eyes, wearing a tux. He looks not far off from Dad. Does that ring any bells?”

His Uncle hemmed and hawed a while. “Not that I’m thinking.”

“Did she have any brothers?”

“Nope. Only child, and I’m your Dad’s only sibling and it sure wasn’t me. Where was this event, anyway?”

“I didn’t say it was from an event.”

“Well, hell, Ieyasu, you said the man was wearing a tux. That guess wasn’t too far out the window.”

Fair. Ieyasu sighed. “Some charity from the nineties, as best as I can tell. No guesses?”

“None.”

“Alright. Well, thanks.”

“Mmm. Alright then. Good night.”

He looked at the photo on and off throughout the next day, wracking his brain for answers. Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe it was nothing, and his brain was inventing links where there were none. But--but still he couldn’t shake it from his mind.

Once work was over, he drove back to the library, hoping he could make it just before closing. Maybe there was something he’d missed in the original copy of the newspapers. Maybe one of the other ones would provide more detail on the photos. The air was crisp and nearby, someone had lit some kind of a bonfire. The smoke kept seeping out onto the road. So much for appropriate fire laws. Taking a left around a thick band of trees, he emerged in the parking lot to the library and--

And it was in flames.

Without a second thought he sprung into action. Leaping from his car, he sprinted to the front door and rattled the handle. Locked. The receptionist from yesterday was on the other side, shaking it too, her green eyes wide. He tried to put his foot through the glass and found it too thick to breach.

“Move!” Ieyasu shouted, and drew his pistol. She lurched to the side as he put three shots through it and kicked again. That time it took, shattering across the carpeted interior. “Come on!”

Ayana scrambled out of the makeshift exit, panting. “She’s--she’s still in there--she was in the back--our phone lines aren’t working!”

Ieyasu flung his cellphone at her and dove inside the building. Churning black smoke billowed against the ceiling, the section near the door already going up in a blaze. Shit. He vaulted the counter and tried at the back office doors, finding them empty. Where the hell was that woman?

Bang. Bang. Bang. A noise in the rear of library echoed through the crackle and collapsing drywall. He didn’t have much time. Shooting through the tank of a water cooler, he splashed the water over himself before sprinting through the burning aisles. In the back it was even worse. Despite his makeshift protection, he could feel the cold water on him sizzle and pop from heat.

“Help!” Someone yelled. He pivoted and charged through an aisle to the copier room. A chair was jammed under the doorknob, trapping her in. This was intentional.

Kicking it free, Ieyasu bellowed, “STAND BACK!” Then he gave her three seconds before bang--he popped another shot straight through the doorknob, knocking it free and breaking the lock mechanism open. The researcher came barreling out, coughing and clutching her mouth, eyes wide.

“Come on!” Grabbing her hand, Ieyasu immediately realized that their exit was closed. A bookshelf collapsed in a shower of sparks. Apparently the woman was too weak from smoke inhalation to yell anymore, because she just flinched in his grasp, weaving on the spot. Fuck. In one smooth motion, he flung her over his shoulder, looking for another route. There--a window to the exterior. Assuming it was also reinforced, Ieyasu squeezed off his last three shots through it and flung the chair he’d kicked as hard as he could through it. Crash! Sliding through the shattered remains as best he could with the woman over his shoulder, they staggered out of the burning wreckage to the sound of sirens in the distance.

“Look at me.” He set her down on the ground. She was weak and pale, eyes wide. Without asking permission, he rested his head against her chest and timed her pulse. Not good--not good at all. It was dangerously, dangerously weak. Treatments flashed through his mind. “We need you to lie down.”

“Ma’am!” Ayana flew around the side of the building, EMTs in tow. “Oh thank god--”

“She’s suffering from smoke inhalation.” Ieyasu hefted her back up into his arms. “She needs the hospital now.”

He and Ayana kept by her bedside in the hospital, his emotions swirling back and forth between dismay, anger, and guilt. This had to do with him, he just knew it. None of the sprinklers went off. Both women were trapped, the doors locked well before closing time. The firefighters said some kind of an accelerant was used in the blaze.

Whatever was going on, both of these women were thoroughly involved now.

Ayana was taken into protective custody by Nobunaga and Hideyoshi first. That just left him at the other woman’s bedside, contemplating what was to happen now. After a long while in silence, she removed her face mask just enough to speak.

“I saw their faces,” she croaked. “The ones that lit the fire.”

#Ayana #jindalraekarkki's Ayana #Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #my writing #ikesen fanfic #Ikesen modern au #Ikesen spy au #Ieyasu Tokugawa #Tokugawa Ieyasu #Ikesen Ieyasu #Burning Secrets #Bloodline

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kaialone · 6 years ago

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Yokai Watch News: Yokai Watch 4 & Forever Friends

With both Corocoro coming out, and official websites updating with new information, there is some Yokai Watch News to go over.

Beware of spoilers, naturally!

I will go over the Yokai Watch 4 news first, then Forever Friends (the upcoming 5th movie), and then some merchandise-related information.

I will mostly translate directly from the official websites, since they cover most of what is in Corocoro, too.

Whenever Corocoro has something that the websites don’t seem to cover, I will make note of it.

Yokai Watch 4 News:

You can find the official website here.

Nintendo Switchにて２０１８年冬発売予定！

To be released on the Nintendo Switch in Winter 2018!

ナツメの世界さくら元町

Natsume's World Sakura Motomachi

Notes:

Here we get our first screencap of Yokai Watch 4, you can see it in higher resolution of the website itself.

Touma seems to be the one controlled by the player here, while Natsume, Jibanyan, and Komasan are seen in the distance.

Akinori’s dialouge at the top reads:

早く来いよ〜！事務所で待ってるから！ Come on, get going! I'm waiting at the office, you know!

The little message on the right displays the objective:

妖怪探偵事務所にいこう！ Go to the Yokai Detective Office!

Also, note that さくら元町/Sakura Motomachi is not the same as what Springdale and Old Springdale are called in Japanese, which are さくらニュータウン/Sakura New Town and 桜町/Sakura-machi respectively. However, Sakura Motomachi could still be a part of the larger area of Springdale for all we know.

つながる３つの世界！全く新しい「妖怪ウォッチ」！

Three worlds connect! A completely new "Yokai Watch"!

ケータの世界妖ウォッチシリーズではお馴染みとなった、ケータが妖怪たちと暮らす世界。

Kēta's World The world we've come to know in the Yokai Watch series, where Kēta lives toegether with yokai.

ウィスパー Whisper

天野ケータ Amano Kēta

ジバニャン Jibanyan

Note:

Amano Kēta is called Nathan “Nate” Adams in English, of course.

ナツメの世界ケータの世界から３０年後、「妖怪探偵団」として、娘のナツメたちが街の怪奇案件を解決していく世界。

Natsume's World A world, 30 years after that of Kēta, where his daughter Natsume and her friends solve strange cases around town as a "Yokai Detective Team".

ジュニア Junior

天野ナツメ Amano Natsume

ジバニャン（ライトサイド） Jibanyan (Lightside)

シンの世界２０１８年１２月１４日（金）公開予定「映画妖怪ウォッチ FOREVER FRIENDS」の舞台となる世界。

Shin's World A world that will be the stage for the "Yokai Watch Movie: FOREVER FRIENDS", scheduled to be released on December 14th (Friday) 2018.

下町シン Shimomachi Shin

スーさん Sū-san

猫又 Nekomata

詳細は統報を待て！！ Stay tuned for more details!!

This is it from Yokai Watch 4′s official website, but this page from this month’s Corocoro issue has two details I want to mention:

(image source)

First is this little snippet that points out that the Arcs seem to be the key to open the mysterious doors:

This may have been obvious from the teaser, but here we have them reinforcing that information.

And this next part kinda has more to do with Forever Friends rather than 4:

This part mentions that Shin’s world is “60 years before Kēta’s world”.

However, Forever Friends has been stated to take place in the 60s, which in turn would mean Yokai Watch 1-3 take place in the 2020s.

But, that also can’t be true because Shadowside is very much implied to take place in the 2040s, and it is supposed to be 30 years after Yokai Watch 1-3, which means they would be in the 2010s, as people always assumed so far.

My best bet is this is probably just some kind of error, like someone somewhere down the line wrote down the wrong time.

Alternatively, it could be a case were these dates are just being rounded up a lot.

Yokai Watch Forever Friends News:

You can find the official website here.

The most notable update is that we now have a character page.

下町シン母の魂を取り戻すため、玉藻前退治に向かう。妖怪ウォッチを使える…？

Shimomachi Shin In order to take back his mother's soul, he sets out to exterminate Tamamo no Mae. He uses a Yokai Watch...?

高城イツキ玉藻前に姉の魂を奪われてしまった少年。悪い妖怪に強く復讐を誓う。

Takashiro Itsuki A boy whose older sister's soul was taken by Tamamo no Mae. He fiercely vows to take revenge on evil yokai.

Note:

In this bio, Itsuki is referred to as "少年" ("boy"), but the furigana above those kanji read "ようかい" ("youkai") instead.

This could be foreshadowing, but it could just as easily be a simple typo.

有星タエ妖怪を見え、妖術を使う一族・有星家の娘。妖怪情報にもくわしい？

Arihoshi Tae The daughter of a clan that can see yokai and use sorcery, the Arihoshi family. She's also well versed in yokai information?

Note:

I mentioned it before, but note that while Tae is very likely related to Akinori, sharing his family name and powers, she is not his grandma, as his grandma’s given name is “Mitsue”.

猫又大きな耳とふさふさの毛が特徴。可愛い容姿と裏腹に、性格はひねくれ者！？

Nekomata His big ears and fluffy fur are his characteristic features. In contrast to his cute appearance, he has a twisted personality!?

スーさんシンに守護霊としてとりついている、頼りなさそうな落ち武者風の妖怪。

Sū-san A seemingly unrelieable, ochimusha-like yokai, who inspirits Shin as his guardian spirit.

Note:

An ochimusha is a defeated warrior who has fled the battle and thus is considered a low-class citizen afterwards.

河童生真面目な会社員みたいな性格をして河童。一見、強そうには見えないが…。

Kappa A kappa with a serious, company employee-esque personality. At first glance he doesn't look strong, but...

玉藻前人の魂を食らう恐ろしいの魔女。日本古来から存在して町に潜んでいるという。

Tamamo no Mae A terrifying witch who devours the souls of people. She is said to have existed in Japan since ancient times, and is lurking in the town.

Note:

Tamamo no Mae is a figure from Japanese mythology.

She is often said to have been an evi fox spirit, as well as one of the “Nihon San Dai Aku Yōkai”, the “Three Great Evil Yokai of Japan”.

Corocoro’s information on these guys is virtually identical, so I only have a few small things to go over.

(image source)

First is this blurb for the movie:

主人公３人と妖怪３体が危険な魔女にい止む！！

人の魂を食らう恐ろしい魔女・玉藻前。コイツを倒すため、主人公シンとイツキ、そして妖術を使う少女タエがチームを結成！！頼もしい（？）ともだち妖怪たちも協力してくれるぞ！！

The three main characters and three yokai will stop the dangerous witch!!

Tamamo no Mae, the terrifying witch who devours the souls of people. In order to defeat her, the protagonists Shin and Itsuki, as well as Tae, a girl who can use sorcery, form a team!! Their dependable (?) yokai friends help them, too!!

Next, the little “titles” for Itsuki and Kappa are interesting.

妖怪を憎む少年 A boy who hates yokai

Note:

It was stated that Itsuki holds a grudge towards evil yokai, but here it says he outright hates yokai.

水辺なら最強！？ Near water, he's the strongest!?

Note:

Kappa’s bio implied he might be stronger than he looks, and this title implies that maybe he is stronger near water, which would make sense, given that he’s a kappa.

Nekomata’s description here is something I want to point out in its entirety:

反逆�� ネコ妖怪猫又外見やしゃべり方はジバニャンにでいるが性格はひねぐれ者！？

Rebellious Cat Yokai Nekomata His looks and the way he talks is similar to Jibanyan, but he's got a twisted personality!?

Notes:

The website version did mention he has a twisted personality, but the version of Corocoro specifically notes that it’s unlike what Jibanyan is like.

Him being called “rebellious” is also interesting to me.

And of course, the big one here is that Corocoro actually revealed a new Yokai Watch, which isn’t mentioned on the website as of right now:

新妖怪ウォッチ判明！！！！

シンが妖怪を呼び出すために使うのが、この「妖怪ウォッチエルダ零」！！通常のエルダに似ているが、なにか秘密が！？

New Yokai Watch Discovered!!!!

In order to call yokai, Shin uses this "Yokai Watch Eruda Zero"!! It resembles the regular Eruda, but hides a secret!?

Note:

“Eruda “ could technically be romanized as “Elder”, and most fans choose to do so.

Aside from all this, both Corocoro and the website feature information regarding the ongoing designing contest tied to the movie.

The contest isn’t something any of us outside of Japan would be able to participate in, so I chose not to completely translate the information here.

Basically the idea seems to be that you are supposed to draw Nekomata together with a yokai you like, and the 1st price will include getting your design become part of the official Arc.

The best 11111 participants will all receive a copy of the final Arc.

Depending on your eventual ranking, there will be additional prices too, like Yokai Watch Eruda toys, and even one copy of Yokai Watch 4.

Merchandise News:

This brings us to the last bit, this page of Corocoro that introduces a new kind of Yokai Arc that will appear in the second set:

(image source)

超激レアランクに光る妖怪アークが出現！！第２弾に登場する妖怪のアーク２個に、光るギミックが搭載されてるぞ！！ Glowing Yokai Arcs appear among the Super Extreme Rare Rank!! In the second series, there will be two Yokai Arcs with a light gimmick!!

Note:

As you can see from the pictures, these Arcs will feature a small lamp below the artwork that, just like described, will light up when you use them with the Yokai Watch toy.

召喚時に妖怪アークが眩く輝く！！ During summoning, the Yokai Arc shines brightly!!

酒呑童子鬼族の大妖怪。なにかを企み人間界に姿を現す！？ Shuten Dōji A great yokai of the Oni tribe. He is planning something and showed up in the human world!?

蛇王カイラ妖魔界の王の座をエンマ大王と争った妖怪。 Kaira the Snake King A yokai who fought with the Great King Enma over the throne of the king of the Yōmakai.

Note:

Both Kaira and Shuten Dōji feature unknown tribe symbols on their Arcs (and so does the Arc features in the design contest), but I am not sure of these will actually correspond to additional new tribes.

While an “Oni tribe” is mentioned here, that term has been used in Yokai Watch before to simply refer to oni in general.

It’s possible these symbols will correspond to “special” tribes that work different from normal ones, like the Enma tribe or Hagure tribe.

And that’s it for this month (presumably).

Corocoro did have some more info on Yokai Watch World, but it seemed to mostly be on how to get some special yokai and the like. I haven’t seen good snapshots of those pages either.

Anyway, as always I hope you’ve found this useful/interesting!

#yokai watch #yokai watch 4 #yokai watch shadowside #yo kai watch #youkai watch #yokai watch movie 5 #yokai watch translations #my translations #website update #corocoro leaks

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hannahgoestomars · 7 years ago

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2017 roundup

Hi all! Here I am to kick some life into this poor neglected blog with a look back at the year.

For me, 2017 has been somewhat of a weird transition year. It started off with me knuckling down and writing my thesis. It didn't quite become all-consuming - I'm glad that I intentionally made plans to rest and socialise during that whole time, and had a week's break in Japan(!!) during that process. I didn't quite hit my (mostly self-imposed) deadline of March 31st, but I came pretty close, handing it in mid-April.

That's two copies of 171 pages and 58k words of SCIENCE.

After handing in my thesis, I took driving lessons back up (having wisely decided not to do two highly stressful things at the same time). I then had my viva to defend my thesis towards the end of June, passing with minor corrections, and passed my driving test about a week afterwards. I spent the rest of the summer working on a couple of research papers, but with my Caltech start date still up in the air, it became clear that I needed a temporary job to fill in a couple of months, so I became a domiciliary care worker.

What followed was a very busy but very valuable few weeks for me. I learned a lot of new skills, I met a lot of people from very different backgrounds to me, I had to get comfortable with driving to work every day, and I got a lot of satisfaction out of doing a job that I know was helping people with their lives. It was pretty tough going - it was a tiring and sometimes emotionally draining job, and I was doing it alongside a whole load of admin and packing in my spare time as I prepared to move out to California. I'm very glad I did it, though.

After having packed my life up into boxes and staying a last couple of days at my parents', I flew out to LA at the end of November to begin a postdoctoral research placement with the Space Radiation Laboratory group at Caltech. I've now been living in the States for just over a month - I'm still adjusting, but I am very much enjoying living out here.

Isn’t this just a really great view?

For Mars One it's been another quiet year news-wise, with most of the work taking place behind the scenes. There's been a lot of admin to do revolving around going public last year, and as far as I'm aware it's held up a lot of stuff - looking back at last year's roundup, some of the things I expected to happen this year haven't happened yet. Of course it's somewhat frustrating for all involved, but I’m just living life and being patient in the meantime (no one expected this to be easy, after all). I've still had the chance to talk in schools and give a presentation at the Nine Worlds convention in the summer, and Mars One has still been doing cool things like hosting a space colony design lab day.

We've continued to learn about Mars in general over the year from satellites in orbit, rovers on the ground, and archival data, for example: locating what may be patches of ice close to the equator, learning about radiation on Mars during increased solar activity, continuing to investigate Mars' watery past - and raising as many questions as we have been finding answers. SpaceX has been successfully launching and landing multiple rockets this year with no disasters, Blue Origin has been testing its New Shepard rocket and Crew Capsule, and RocketLab made it to space with 'It's A Test' launching from New Zealand.

SpaceX continue to be a source of very cool rocket launch pictures... among other things.

In the wider world, it's been... a ride. I've found myself gritting my teeth through the unfolding disasters of Brexit and Trump, but there are signs that the tide is turning. I'm hoping that we can all bounce back from the past couple of years kinder, stronger, and more savvy to manipulation. I also hope that we get an increasing trend in silenced voices being listened to - the #metoo movement was a solid start, but can we keep it up and take it further? There's still a lot of work to do.

On a positive note, there's been a lot of fun stuff that's happened this year. I got to go to the Valerian premiere with one of my best friends and had a great time! I spoke at the Nine Worlds convention (thanks Jeannette for live-tweeting!) and really enjoyed the rest of it as well - spending time at some very interesting panels and swanning around in cosplay. It's been a good year for good things to watch, but in particular I've very much enjoyed the new Star Trek and Star Wars coming out: both Discovery and The Last Jedi have been great (I'm looking forward to Discovery continuing in the new year... and already pining for the last instalment of the trilogy!) I've continued to LARP, and I am really going to miss the UK LARP scene, but I'll see if I can find a nice one to join in LA. I've also said goodbye to a tabletop campaign I've been in for a little over a year, and done some fiction writing - none of which I'm sharing widely right now, but I'd like to build up to that.

My cosplay selfies from Nine Worlds - a low-effort Haruhi Fujioka, a high-effort Robin Hobb’s Fool, and an I’m-not-hungover-it’s-corpse-greasepaint Kieran Walker!

I'm not really one for specific new year's resolutions, but a recurring theme for the past year has been acknowledging when things scare me - and doing the scary things anyway. Driving especially came under that second theme, and I'm very proud of myself for the progress I've made there - going from very scared lessons to a solo road trip to Scotland! Doing care work and moving abroad were also really big challenges for me, but I've found the courage and support to step up to them.

Next year, I want to make the most of where I am here and now. My postdoc position is for two years, but I have no idea yet if I'll be staying for longer than that or moving back to the UK, so while I'm here I want to find my people, see the sights, and not let my time slip away. I also want to keep a close eye on my mental health - my thesis did a number on me, and while on looking back I feel like I have now climbed out of the dark pit that I was in while writing up, I think I'm still carrying some baggage from it. I also want to better understand the times that I get stressed or angry, and improve my ability to deal with it.

Thank you for sticking with me this year, even though it's been quiet for those just following the Mars One news, and wild and chaotic for those following what's been going on in my life as a whole! I continue to be active on Twitter if you want to do more of the latter. Happy new year to you all! Let's acknowledge 2018 as a big, scary, unknown place... and go tackle it head on anyway!

#mars one #mars #year in review

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actionfigurebullshit · 6 years ago

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Worlds of the Wonderverse

Not sure where to start... and I have garbage I need to take out. It smells like a damn cat box in here!

(A few moments later...)

Aaaand...

So, um... yeah.

It’s been a week since learning of Jane’s passing. I still don’t know much about the details, and I’ve accepted that nothing good can come from knowing more than what I already do. It’s still so much to process- and there’s a lot of processing to do. I lost my movie making and world building partner. I don’t pretend to fully understand what drove her to create, but she felt the calling, too, that need to take something in your head and convert it to something tangible, and sometimes, even if it’s just a silly or stupid video, it has to be considered a high priority. It’s a madness, and it was a treasure to share in our sickness.

I went back and watched some of the movies she made with some help from me. There were so many of them I wanted us to follow up on. I had said as much, and in a few instances, Jane gave me her blessing to do so if the spirit moved me. I don’t know if there’s time to do anything like that anymore, when my free time is so rare and so many other things are in the queue- it’s not just like sand in the hourglass, it’s like wet sand. Some of this shit has been waiting patiently for years to see daylight. Does any of Jane’s stuff get to cut in line?

I’ve been bugged by an idea that began a few nights ago when I discovered some assets for her 2013 video “Starburners”. It’s disappointing that the version of it on YouTube is so low in video quality. The one uploaded in 2016 isn’t the original, so I’m not sure if the original was at a higher resolution or what, but it seems like this one had some generational loss to it, but even the original didn’t have a high resolution to it. I’m not knocking her work- here I am taking web cam quality pictures from a 2007 digital camera, and I still use Paint Shop Pro 7. Sometimes, for better or worse, you get married to old stuff. Being poor encourages it, too, and I’m sure it was that way with her.

Anyway, what a shock it was to find out that some of the special effects I did for her were in 1080p- because I, too, dabble with low resolution videos most of the time. It’s also necessary when your computers are old or under powered. What’s really funny is that it includes live action, but the live action was shot with that camcorder, and that thing was barely 480 on its highest setting, and yet with all the filtering on the images to turn a flabby dude in a woman’s Zentai costume into a sentient human shaped cloud of nebula gas, I wound up with a genuine high definition shot of three of these aliens standing together.

It got me thinking how cool it would be to make a little short video on the special effects work that I contributed to this movie, showing all the clips of video that went into building these aliens. As I have low end equipment, getting the right filtering on it required filtering one copy of the raw video, producing a video file of that editing, and then edit the image further. What’s left is a long trail of “in between” videos, which could be used to illustrate the process of making these aliens.

It feels like a pointless project, though. Who’s gonna watch it? It’s almost a funny thing to ask because of how small an audience I was having for AFB- you’d think that wouldn’t stop me, but this wasn’t something Lacey or Matt was involved with, and the one person who might have interest, or at the very least, a reason to watch this isn’t here anymore.

Maybe I should make it anyway as a way I can honor Jane, and share a little about our 93% film-making and Star Trek friendship. I’d love it if some of the people involved in the original production found the video- and they’ll have to because I don’t know how to contact them, and I’m just a total stranger to them, anyway. I don’t have any behind the scenes stuff of Jane’s anyway, so it would be that much more irrelevant to them.

Still, I feel a compulsion- a creative one, to have Jane live on in videos and digital media. I can make some follow ups happen. Others, probably not, but definitely the ones I was most involved in. I’ve been wanting to expand on her ASStronauts video shorts for years now- it’d be worth squeezing into those old suits again to film, or do as she did, just recycle footage. One of the benefits of filming a creature who has no mouth is that you can put any kind of line in there, but I think I would want to film new stuff as well.

I wonder if it makes sense to try to continue someone else’s work like that- like there’s some part of me scolding me for having these ideas. Maybe I shouldn’t pick up this mantle, maybe Jane wouldn’t have wanted that, maybe it’s not my place? Or maybe I shouldn’t worry about any of it. Maybe this is just the exact way I’m supposed to grieve over a lost friendship such as this?

But there’s more to it than just making sure something “stays alive”- there’s a fun tendency in what remains of my social circle where ideas are constantly being built on other ideas- this creative force is like a Borg cube, or a Katamari ball, it just picks up everything in its path, assimilating it into this... monstrosity that’s showcased on this appropriately named blog “Total Communication”. The Wonderverse is about to have it’s artistic and technical distinctiveness added to its own! It was inevitable, anyway, as I had let Jane use some of those TC assets for her work, and Jane found herself involved in some of the posts. Whatever I end up doing, I intend on adding it to the mix. Jane’s characters and settings will live on to some extent, and be allowed to grow and evolve like so many other things I’ve worked on. Even if I could never actually finish things, I did have a knack for keeping them going... or in development Hell, I dunno! But some of this stuff has been going on since we were kids...

God, this is too rambling, but my thoughts are still too much of a jumble.

So I’ll just say this for now and wrap things up:

AFB will continue. We’ve brainstormed a few wacky ideas on how Moxie can continue to have a voice down the road, but I’ve got enough lines from Jane over the years that I can probably work on AFB (at the rate I’m going) for years before I run out of audio.

And, if nothing else, I can share some of those video assets here. There’s probably some styles in there that will be instantly recognizable in AFB. It’s my blog, why not expand things a little here?

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smartalker · 7 years ago

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Magpie Bridge [6/10 - Papissa Joanna]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

No reception.

Ryder poked at her omni-tool again, hopefully. No reception. Damn.

Pathfinder, it seems likely that the canyon walls are interfering with our communications.

Brilliant. Ryder glanced back and around. Reyes had wandered back into the ship, likely doing something nefarious, but his pilots remained busy at the bridge. She cleared her throat. “Hey. Do you know when the signal will be back up?”

One pilot glanced back. She had neat, aqua dreadlocks. “You mean for private calls? We’re cloaked until arrival. Security concerns. We should arrive in about half an hour.”

“Oh. Bummer. Okay, thanks—” Ryder paused suddenly. Reyes had definitely been messaging someone earlier. “What about Reyes?”

The pilot shrugged. “Him? He’s always got some new tech. Loves his gadgets. Not sure where he gets it. Told me he built it himself when I asked once…don’t really buy it. Probably keeps a gang of Salarians locked in a basement somewhere.” She grinned. Her teeth were shiny, bolted with silver. She glanced at her screens, then nodded politely at Ryder before returning to her work.

Ryder scowled. Her omni-tool was top of the market caliber, the best money could buy. She hadn’t paid much attention to tech before, but she had a hunch that if the Collective had better tech than the Initiative, her engineers seriously needed to get their asses in gear.

She marched back into the ship, searching the rooms randomly.

“Need something?”

Ryder spun, grabbing his wrist. “Let me scan your omni-tool.”

“Why, jealous?” He lifted his arm away from her, catching her around the waist and pulling her forwards. “It’s pretty good, one of its kind. But I could make you a copy if you asked me nicely.”

Ryder narrowed her eyes. “Oh, can you?” She tried sneakily scanning his device and was easily blocked.

Reyes shrugged, now pinning her arms. “I like building things. Just a hobby.” He grinned into her seething face. “You’re cute. Very fiery. I like this.”

All Initiative engineers were officially fired. Ryder wriggled around, trying to look fierce. “Is this how you became so successful? This whole time, you’ve secretly been a gadget nerd?”

“Did you think it was all good looks and ruthless deception?”

“Yes.” She perked onto her toes, so their noses were tip-to-tip. His gaze faltered for a moment, surprised by her, and she let her weight sag forward so he was forced to catch her more tightly. She kissed him quickly. “Got you.”

He laughed a little breathlessly. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You. You like me. I make you nervous,” she told him, with glee. Reyes blinked.

“Did I forget to tell you?”

“You told me. I just didn’t really believe you.” She snuggled into him. “Don’t look at me.”

His hand found her ponytail, and tugged. She stayed resolutely hidden, as the pressure increased, as his voice began coaxing her, “Hey. Don’t get all shy now—”

The intercom buzzed suddenly to life, and the pilot from earlier announced over speaker, “Docking at Kadara Port, everyone hold on—”

They were too tangled together. Upon the abrupt docking, they both lurched into the wall, hips banging painfully against the hand rail. Ryder’s eyes smarted, her wrist and hand had both been smashed beneath his shoulder. “Ugh. Ryder down.”

“Sorry,” Reyes laughed, already helping to steady her. “Sorry,” he said again. “Dezzie likes a quick landing. I should have warned you. Where were we?” He reached for her face, and Ryder ducked away, her shyness returning.

“Disembarking.”

He clicked his tongue, following her back towards the bridge. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”

She hit the outer door’s access button. “Are you?” She glanced back at him, and he wrapped an arm over and around her shoulders, catching her jaw so she remained angled towards him. He kissed her deeply, confidently, until she was leaning back into him and dizzy. And then he let her go.

“Not really,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. “Actually, I’m not patient at all.”

Ryder’s lips parted just as the doors slid back, and she was ready for him this time, she was going to answer—

“Hey,” said Scott, and Ryder’s stomach iced over. She swiveled, staring. Her twin waited at the end of the ramp, his arms crossed. She thought she felt Reyes’ arm clench a little. As discreetly as she was able, Ryder slid his arm off of her.

“Hey,” she returned. Casually. “Scott, have you met—? Okay, okay, nevermind, great.” Scott had already stalked away. Ryder glanced apologetically at Reyes.

“He’s very dramatic.” She whispered. “Of my immediate family, I would like to say that you really lucked out with me. Compared to the rest of them, I am extremely low maintenance.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Reyes said, rather pointedly. It wouldn’t have stung if he hadn’t spent the last week saving her ass, a pattern Ryder strongly disapproved of and would be re-evaluating, as opportunities arose.

Ryder suppressed her urge to reveal all the shit her brother had pulled over the course of their lives together. Suffice to say, there was a lot of shit. “I should probably go talk to him.” As though Scott hadn’t made that clear by stopping less than fifty feet away, sulking around some crates. Reyes looked as though he were trying not to laugh.

“I’ll wait for you. Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Ryder nodded. “Right. Because we’re doing things together now.”

“Don’t forget,” Reyes called after her, as she jogged down the ramp. Scott pulled a nasty face as she approached, one she couldn’t help but return. They’d been running this routine for about twenty years now. It was hard to break old habits.

“Hey ugly,” Scott greeted.

“Moron,” Ryder returned. “You found me quick.”

“SAM let me know you were headed back to Port before coms were cut.” Scott shrugged. “I guess our link’s still open. Anyway, I’m here to collect you. You’re welcome. You look like shit, by the way.”

Absently, Ryder’s hand drifted up to her face. “Yeah. I kicked some ass.”

“Doesn’t look that way.” Scott glared at her. “SAM also told me you ran your dump of an astrology program again.”

What a fucking snitch. Words would be exchanged about this later. Ryder rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and did he also tell you that his combat program turns me into a God of War? Quit harping.”

“There’s literally like no part of you that isn’t beat to shit.” Scott sniped, before whispering, “God of War,” in an unnecessarily scathing tone. Ryder crossed her arms.

“Well fuck, Scott, sorry not all of us get to be born with perfect reflexes, must be my recessive genes or something.” She was laying on the sarcasm a little thicker than she had planned, but Scott was matching her, step for step. Why did they always fight?

“We have the same genes. We’re twins.”

“Right. Thanks for the biology lesson,” Ryder muttered. She glanced back at the ship. Reyes was turned away from her, discussing something with his crew. She hoped he hadn’t been able to hear her conversation and its exhausting pettiness. Even she was embarrassed. She turned back to Scott, his familiar features. Maybe her only family, if her mother never woke up.

They didn’t look that alike. It didn’t matter. Ryder smiled. “This is dumb. Dad would tell us we were being dumb.”

After a moment, Scott smiled awkwardly back at her. “That was about the extent of his emotional interventions, yeah.”

Ryder wrinkled her nose. “Whatever, you had it way better. You didn’t ever fuck up.”

Scott just stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ryder waved an arm, trying to flap away the emotional baggage she’d just dumped into their conversation. “Nothing. You know. You and dad.”

“What about me and dad?”

“Just.” Was he glaring at her? Ryder looked away. Unexpectedly, her throat had begun to close up. She squeaked a little when she said. “You know. You and dad. You were close. And you were, you know, you were a better soldier than I was. Am. If you’d woken up from your coma on schedule, if—maybe if you’d been on the mission—”

“What, dad would still be alive?” Scott snorted. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think there was anything you could have done differently. Don’t think like that, you’ll go crazy.”

“No, I meant—I meant, I think he’d have chosen you as Pathfinder. I think you’d have done a better job. I don’t know. I don’t want to make this a big thing. You’re right, what happened, happened.”

She tried to walk away, to just get some distance from a conversation she hadn’t meant to make so emotional, but Scott checked her path, and jabbed an angry finger against her collar. “What kind of stupid shit is that? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and I used to read your diary.”

Ryder bared her teeth, her face flaming. “Okay, I get it! I’ll quit whining!” She took it all back. Brothers were seriously the worst.

Scott was making an extremely unattractive face, in her opinion. “You’re so fucking annoying. I actually, intensely, wish I could just beat you up right now, except you’re already injured everywhere. Pathfinder my ass. You seriously think dad would have picked me? Because I can fight better?”

“Shut up.” She side-stepped him. Note to self: never confide in blood relatives. “Good to see your emotional illiteracy has lived to fight another day.”

“That’s what dad said too,” Scott yelled behind her. “And you’re an idiot for not figuring that one out, Sara! Pathfinders don’t need to shoot guns, they need to find a way forward when everything else is fucked.”

“I hate you!” she screamed back, which was maybe not that mature but also: fuck Scott. Her shriek did not go un-noticed. From across the clearing, Reyes and his crew were watching, with some concern, as she forced her appearance back to calmness. Sibling squabbles should be checked at the door. She took a deep breath, and then about four more. “Okay. I don’t hate you. You’re my brother and I love you. Sorry.”

Scott snorted. “Are you telling me or yourself?”

“Fuck off,” Ryder snapped. Scott grinned. This was officially the worst conversation to have in front of a romantic interest. Ryder squeezed her eyes closed. “Ugh. Ugh. Ignoring you. Tell me my extremely capable and talented crew has made headway. I’m betting at least two new couples?”

“What?” Scott looked taken aback. “New couples?”

Oblivious idiot. “Never mind. Crime scenes, drugs. Our investigation. Did you find anything?” she asked, hoping for at least vindication.

Scott grimaced. “Yes.”

She swung around him, trying to corner his expression into telling her more. “Yeah? And?”

Scott gave a disgusted sigh. “Look. Your drug base.”

“Sure?”

“There’s a lot of them. A lot. It’s not surprising you found one so easily.”

Ryder, now having flashbacks of her very inelegant cliff scramble, wanted to object to his use of the word ‘easily.’ Perhaps later. “And—they’re all on PX9…uh.”

“PX92230. And yes, they are, with some expected variations across strains. Which implies that there’s no branding or organization across sellers which, once we looked into it, turned out to be true.” Scott was rubbing at the early wrinkle developing between his brows. “They’re all small, independent sellers. Like people growing pot in their basements.”

Shit. Ryder strongly preferred the scenario where there was one bad guy. Extra points for clear DNA trails. She watched as Scott continued ironing his face, now wondering if she was growing some wrinkles of her own. “Okay. So. The drugs are a dead end.”

Scott growled a little. “Ugh. Do you get headaches?”

“Like all the time.”

“Me too. We should go to a doctor.”

Ryder huffed a little. “Scott, we don’t have a pre-existing condition. We have annoyingly high-achieving parents who died and dumped all their shit on us.” She winced as Scott punched her viciously in the shoulder. “Ow, alright! I’m an insensitive shrew!”

Scott glared for another moment, sternness emanating from every pore. Nursing her shoulder, Ryder privately thought that Scott might be more accustomed to her way of thinking if he saw how old he looked just then. “The drugs are more than a dead end.” Scott revealed. “This whole thing is bullshit. Unmanageable. It’s like the old war on drugs all over again.”

Ryder blinked. “Fine, so let them have their drugs. I just want to stop whoever’s landscaping with body parts.”

“No,” Scott said, sounding annoyed, “You don’t get it. That won’t solve anything.”

“I seriously beg to differ.”

“Sara, it’s not just one group.” Scott rolled up to his feet. “Listen. The exiles came out of stasis early, right? And then there was a meltdown within command, people didn’t get the psych treatment they needed. So they revolted, came out to Kadara with their manic depression and bi-polar disorder and anxiety and fuck knows what else—things they didn’t even have before stasis, things that happened because it turns out freezing someone for six hundred years isn’t great for their health, who knew. So now we have a bunch of people with mental health stuff that they don’t know how to deal with.”

“We’ve seen that before—Lexi was able to treat them—”

“No. Listen. They already treated themselves.” Scott was growing more agitated as he explained, beginning to pace. “They’ve been treating themselves with PX92230 except, which works fine in theory, expect that it’s got the potential to be crazy addictive, and loses its effect over time. We thought they were inducing a manic state, but actually, they were just trying to get out of bed in the morning.”

Ryder groaned. “Oh. Awesome. So I need a massive rehab program—”

“No. Because this isn’t your issue. I mean it is, but not in the way you think.” Scott abruptly stopped moving. He sort of hung in space, swaying on the point of taking another step, but not committing. Ryder wasn’t sure about the expression he was making – the odd, restrained sadness of it. “Look,” Scott said, finally. “It’s the kids.”

Ryder stared at him. “The dead kids?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” Scott sighed. “Lexi and Suvi went over the coroner’s notes. The victims all have traces of the drug, but…it’s not enough. So Suvi had an idea. When we factor in the chemical imbalances that were already present, the treatment becomes ineffective. For adults, their addictions are just a big secret no one wants to talk about. For kids—well, no one wants to drug up their kids. In fact, the drugs in their system wouldn’t have been nearly enough, if they’d reached a true psychotic state.”

Ryder stared at her brother. She had heard him, the words he was saying, but none of it—none of it made sense to her—

SAM flickered, at the back of her mind, whirling composites and threads and lost tangents into place. The Green Man, the god Dionysus, the circles and the rituals and the savagery, the blood, the missing element she kept returning to, wondering how does sex fit in, where’s the pervert doing this for a release?—and finding none, over and over again. But of course a child wouldn’t kill for a sexual motive, a child had no concept of such things, only a pure and surreal brutality, a fever dream brought about by fairy tales and stories and adventure, a chemical scrambling in a developing mind. Parents too stressed or too distracted or too dead to help them.

Myths were simple. The same story, the same patterns. A thousand Gods of Death. The things that children learned in grade school.

“No.” Ryder said.

“You know it makes sense,” Scott said. He looked almost sorry. “We’ve seen them. All this time. Gangs of kids. It’s likely not all of them need treatment—the Angara children, for one, they never even went through cryo—but they’re impressionable. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine them sucked into a group hallucination.”

She felt like she was having a panic attack. Ryder swallowed, once, then twice—she couldn’t think. She couldn’t shoot children.

“Do we have a plan?”

“Verify it.” Scott shrugged. “I’ve already authorized it. Figured there was no harm in checking. Lexi’s going to start doing diagnostics this afternoon, check blood work against brain scans. We’ll know soon.”

Ryder nodded. She felt worse than useless. She inhaled, held it. “Okay,” she managed, air squeaking against full lungs. She blew out. “Okay. Sorry. It’s just, you now. Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Yeah.” She slapped her hands absently against her thighs. Battery, battery. “Okay. I’ll head back with you. We need to regroup. Let me tell Reyes.”

Scott made a face, ready to argue, and so Ryder walked away a little faster than she might have done otherwise. Fuck. Fuck. Reyes had already seen her return, was motioning for his pilots to take a walk. He smiled at her.

“Bad news?”

“Yeah. Uh, yeah.” Ryder combed her fingers back through her bangs, held them there, yanking against her own scalp. “The worst possible news.” She told him, wrapping up with, “I need to get back to the Tempest. If this turns out to be true—I need to do something. Take emergency measures.” She hesitated. “I’m—I’m sorry. I know you wanted us to stay together. I did, too.”

He was still, arms crossed, gaze lowered. “No worries. We work on different sides of the law.” His gaze shifted for a second. “Your brother and you. You’re similar. Same nasty glare.”

“I don’t glare.”

“Hm,” was his comment. He was still watching Scott, absently rubbing his chin. “Be careful, Sara.”

She flushed a little. He didn’t call her by name often. “I’m always careful.”

“I don’t buy it.” Reyes shrugged. “Okay, sure. Everyone’s getting high on Kadara. We knew that. Cryo messes people up – also knew that. Your entire scenario sounds plausible enough, but I still think there’s something missing. I should have known about this. The fact that I didn’t means someone’s working pretty hard to keep me in the dark.” His gaze shifted back to her, a delicate frown pinching the edges of his eyes, narrowing his focus.

“What?” She’d meant to leave. There was something ugly lurking just beneath the surface now, something that twisted inward and away from her. In an effort to reach it, she flattened one hand against his chest. “What?”

And in less than a second he’d shaken it away. “Nothing. You should get back to your brother before he actually shoots me.”

“Don’t do that,” she protested. “Whatever it is, I can handle it. Please trust me.”

He looked down at her hand. Slowly, his own came to rest over hers. “You know what?” he laughed a little. “I actually do. See you soon.” Before she could say anything else, his face bent towards her and he kissed her again, longer than she’d anticipated.

And then he turned, and walked back on his ship.

She watched him leave, an uneasy clench still kicking nervously though her stomach. A feeling, a fear, as though maybe she wouldn’t see him again. She held herself still, her body poised as though tied to thousands of invisible strings, uncertain what reaction would occur by her hand lifting, her feet moving to take their next step.

And then Scott’s hand fell on her shoulder. And she turned back.

“Come on,” Scott insisted. “We gotta move.”

“Right,” Ryder agreed. The engines engaged on the cargo ship behind her, as Reyes and his crew pushed off. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to watch him leave.

Keema had left the Collective’s Base at Kadara Port behind her for a more secure, less obvious facility. She still had an overly dramatic chair to sit in, there were still steps that separated her from the rabble that would kneel in attendance. Reyes climbed the stairs, while she waved her bodyguards out of the room. He briefed her on the Pathfinder’s suspicions, the Initiative’s likely next moves. She listened well, interrupting only once or twice to clarify a detail. When he’d finished, she sat for a long while in contemplative silence.

Finally, she looked at him. “Tell me honestly,” Keema began. “Your best judgment. How many number among those who would use this distraction as a pretext to seize power? You and I both know that curing this sickness won’t be enough. It’s been too elegantly leveraged.”

Reyes paced, tallying the cartels, the murder sites, the supply lines and the guards and the children and the—

“At least a hundred.”

“Not a lot.”

“Up to thousands,” he admitted. He made himself face her. Funny, how much Keema’s approval had begun to matter, at some point. Her bright, gleaming eyes stared back at him, only listening.

“The problem, you realize, is not that they may number in the thousands. The problem is that you have no idea.”

“It’s—catching.” Reyes struggled to explain. “The idea that anyone could be the Charlatan. That no one is the Charlatan. I don’t know, it’s gone past just anarchy, more towards something like madness.” He laughed shortly. “I should have come down on them harder. I should have made an example.”

“It’s done,” Keema cut in. “You aren’t that person. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.” She was looking through him, her eyes glassy. Slowly, her head began to shake, to deny. Somewhere, a gear was turning, a wheel spun. Somewhere, the beast woke up, the star ended. Keema drew in a breath, her body braced, her hand tracing the fresh scar tissue her body had worked so hard to produce, the hole it had closed in her shoulder. “I see,” Keema said, and nothing more. There was something there, some new wall between them. Reyes had never gone so far as to trust Keema with his life, but he’d trusted in her gambling spirit, her flair for opulence, posturing.

Now, she flinched.

“What?” he demanded. “Or are you waiting for me to leave the room before you divulge it all to the cameras?”

Keema’s fingers—her nails—traced light, careful patterns over her injury. “We’re over,” Keema said simply. She faced him. “The Charlatan. It’s over. We need to get out, now.”

“Before it’s too late?” Reyes mocked. He laughed tightly. “I didn’t know you were scared of ghosts.”

“Nothing kills a ghost,” Keema said, flat. “Did you know, the Angara have ghosts too? Human, Asari, Turian…it doesn’t matter. Everyone has a ghost. I think it’s because everyone knows they should be afraid, because there is nothing better at scaring children than something that doesn’t quite exist.” Her dreamy reflection broke, she faced him. “I was your face. The people know me as the Charlatan. Many assume I know who he actually is.”

“Not to sound glib, but you’ve never fled because of an assassination attempt before—”

Keema interrupted him, now rising from her seat, turning, turning. She spun out of orbit, dislodged. “Death is a fact. Fine, I accept death. A ghost doesn’t.”

Reyes frowned, following her from her audience hall, down the narrow passage. She lived and ruled Kadara as a queen might. “You’re getting in the way of your own metaphors.”

“I’m saying we’ve lost.” Keema snapped. “We went about it all wrong. Authority cannot be faceless while remaining illegitimate. We were wrong. We were strong as usurpers, not as rulers. It’s done. This isn’t a scenario where two Charlatans duke it out for the title—that’s over. Now there are three, thirty, a thousand Charlatans. It will never end. Not until the Initiative blows through us, until we’re all dust.” She was stripping off her jewelry, her beautiful clothes. He watched as she pulled on a set of dark, dusty fatigues. Her face seemed to shift, becoming something wary and old. She faced him, a shadow of Keema. “I’m not afraid of dying. But I’m not going out for no reason. When something’s over, you change or you get left behind to die with it.”

He walked her to the door. “So that’s it?”

Keema glanced at him, smiling wryly. Her face became her own again. “Darling, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not the type to stay quiet for long.” She clasped his hand. “Be well, my friend. Let go of your anger, and your Pathfinder. Both of them will kill you.” She turned to leave, her carriage graceful in spite of her ragged attire.

“That’s funny,” Reyes said mildly. “It seems more likely that you will.”

Keema stopped.

“You lied to me,” Reyes said. “You knew the rituals were performed by children. In fact—it’s too much. Theatrical. Someone planted the seed. Someone put the idea in their heads. Someone wanted to make such a spectacle of things that there would be no choice but to investigate it. The only thing I can’t figure out, is why?”

She’d turned to face him now, her expression cool, noncommittal. Reyes breathed a soft laugh, his chest tightening. He felt the stirrings of the sort of fury that could make a person crush a wine glass with their bare hands, and feel nothing. “Was it you? It doesn’t matter, really. You collaborated, either way.”

Still, nothing. An almost beautiful emptiness. Slowly, Keema spoke. “It was never about you, darling. You must realize that.”

“Don’t.” Reyes whispered. He folded his rage, like a blanket. He packed it away. Keema only watched him, waiting.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

“Tell me why,” Reyes insisted instead. “Why you went behind my back. Why you destroyed us.” He wasn’t as perfect as he would have liked. He couldn’t stop himself from slamming the door she’d tried to walk through.

Finally, finally, Keema faced him fully, a sort of challenge growing, blossoming across her face. “Because you fell in love with the Pathfinder,” she said. “Because you won’t let her die. And the universe needs her to. She’s too powerful for the Initiative, for Aya, for us. She’s more powerful than all the other Pathfinders put together and nobody can figure out why, or how, but it doesn’t matter because her decisions have written the rules for the entire galaxy.” Keema’s face began to quiver as she spoke, her eyes widening, dilating. “Step back from this, Reyes! You know it’s true!”

The story was locking into place. The trap that Ryder couldn’t resist, the danger she would ignore every time. And he was the bait. And he hadn’t realized, because he’d been stupid enough to believe that the rest of the galaxy was in awe of her as he was. And time was running out. “The Kett are still out there,” Reyes argued, whether to Keema or the universe, he wasn’t sure. “And worse. And everything—we have no idea what’s coming next, but the Pathfinder is our best hope—”

“I could smack you!” Keema hissed. “The Pathfinder is a hero, Reyes. She presides over this galaxy like a God, her decisions become absolute. Eventually, the Initiative and its allies will turn against her. Every hero must die, or else their legends will crush the people who stand near them. This is why I couldn’t tell you. This is why! She has warped you with idealism, when you were never a good man. You lose all objectivity!”

In less than a second he had her against the wall with an automatic pistol jammed against her throat, the blood roaring in his ears, deafening him, adrenaline spiking his vision up to its maximum capacity, so that every nervous twitch or shudder that Keema’s face suffered became prolonged, almost indecently slowed. He could kill her. He should kill her, the viper, the—

“She’s going to die. And you made me the reason why,” he said. He was careful, enunciating each word. Almost calm.

“I did nothing,” Keema whispered. “The galaxy is the one who betrayed her. You were the one who made her fall for you. There was always going to be an explosion, one way or the other. All I did, was get out of the way.”

As the seconds ticked hollowly on, and Reyes stared into the face of the Angara he’d trusted, so implicitly, so stupidly—he realized, it was true. It was all true.

He let her go. Keema, massaging where he’d held her neck, took a wary step back. She reached for the door. “For what it’s worth,” she coughed, voice hoarse from abuse and emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Just get out.” Reyes said. He went on staring blankly ahead, as she closed the door behind her.

The results were conclusive.

“So,” Suvi began breathlessly, “We were lucky. That victim whose tissue samples you collected was human. My specialty.”

“Mine too,” Lexi chimed in, almost happily. Ryder couldn’t quite contain her puzzled stare. Lexi blushed. “I—that is, I rather like human anatomy.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Suvi said, with the decadent relish most people reserved for describing double chocolate cake. “I’m especially interested in natural mutations. Webbed feet. Very cute.”

God these people were weird. Ryder focused on the projection of an adolescent brain, pieced apart and cleanly labeled. “So? What can you tell me?”

“Oh, right.” Suvi zoomed on the frontal lobe. “Well. Based on our chemical analysis of the victim’s brain tissue, our theory holds ground. Her neurotransmitters were all over the place, highly saturated. Her symptoms were likely similar to someone living with a severe form of schizophrenia – likely with massive audio and visual hallucinations. So, yes, someone with these symptoms, who is young enough to have only a tenuous grasp of morality, and existing in an extremely malleable stage of development—frankly, it’s very hard to imagine another scenario, at this point.”

Ryder blew up her cheeks, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Lexi laid a hand on her arm. “Ryder. None of this is your fault. But we need to act, and we need to act quickly. There is a massive population here that desperately need psychological treatment – we must establish programs from those people struggling with addiction, I would also recommend—”

“Yes.” Ryder interrupted. “All of that. Yes. Write the report, I’ll submit it with my full support. We’re going to need Initiative resources.”

“If they’ll agree to part with them,” Kallo mumbled. He rose from his seat at the bridge and move back to join their conference. Suvi frowned.

“These are children. Children who were essentially dragged in and out of cryo by their families. They haven’t made any decisions that might harm the Initiative—”

“I hope Tann will see it that way,” Kallo murmured. “The political situation on Kadara has grown too unstable. If he agrees he’s going to want a full surrender of authority.”

Ryder’s teeth ground together. The ugly thought that had been lurking at the back of her head. “Maybe we could act as a mediator—”

Lexi’s hand slammed down on the table, and she bolted straight up from her seat. “You cannot possibly think that anything is more important than helping these people! Who cares about the ruler of a stupid little rock when there are lives on the line?”

Ryder cringed. “I know, I’m just—”

But now it was Suvi’s turn to lay a gentle hand across Ryder’s, as she huskily murmured, “Ryder, we cannot ignore this any longer. You know it’s true. The situation is too unstable on Kadara Port in the hands of its acting authorities. I’m not saying that Tann or the Initiative are perfect, but what our people need now is order. And that means an authority figure that can be held accountable.”

“Not some weasel doing whatever they want in the shadows,” Kallo muttered. He looked startled by his own rebellion.

Ryder swallowed again, “Look I hear you, I agree with you, I’m just wondering if this is really the best solution—”

“Probably not,” Scott spoke from the doorway, and Ryder spun around to face her brother. She wanted to order him out, to point out that this meeting was for officers only, but Scott had already taken a seat at their table. He glanced at Ryder, at all of them. “There’s a reason Tann was an accountant, not a leader. He’s not likeable. He inspires no one. But he isn’t evil, and he’s mostly fair, and he has the resources these people need. And realistically, now that we know the cause, it’s only a matter of time until knowledge spreads to the public. We risk appearing incompetent, or heartless. We can afford neither. Sara, you are holding a bomb.”

“Alright!” Ryder yelled. The room fell silent, staring at her. Her heart was pounding unnaturally fast, frighteningly fast. Pathfinder – find the way forward. No matter the cost. Forget everything else.

She grit her teeth. “Okay,” Ryder heard herself speaking, surprised at how calm she sounded. “You’re right. It’s out of my hands, out of control. We need more people. You’re right. You’re right. Get Tann on the line for me.”

Suvi glanced at Kallo, her chin shaking slightly. Kallo blinked, twice. “I—of course, Pathfinder. What are you going to say?”

Ryder sighed. “Don’t you get it? You’ve won. It’s over. I’m calling them in.”

Kallo opened his mouth to say more, but Suvi threw out a long arm, knocking him gently in the stomach. Her bridge crew nodded, their faces solemn, even sympathetic. Ryder allowed herself one long, aching sigh as she headed to the conference room, carefully avoiding thinking about any of the things she was about to admit to the Director.

The light was blinking, ready, screen prepped. Ryder huffed up her chest, squaring her shoulders. She could do this. She was ready. Her fingers, rather than accepting the computer’s prompt, squished into fists.

It was all just fucked.

She hit the call accept command, and Tann’s gaunt face assembled before her eyes. He wasn’t real. He was just a bunch of hyperactive pixels. Ryder cleared her throat. “Director Tann. I won’t waste your time. I need Nexus operatives.”

Tann was silent for a moment, watching her. “I see. Well, nothing’s solved by us blaming one another. I’ve been keeping an eye on reports submitted by Scott Ryder. I think I have a general idea of the situation, but I’ll need you to submit a formal summary of your own activity for my review. If you would include your recommendations for the placement and personnel dispatch you deem most prudent, I will take that into consideration while forming the task force.”

Ryder swallowed once, twice. “I understand. I’m hoping that the Initiative will see this as an opportunity to extend an invitation to our allies on Aya. Perhaps rather than a strict military occupation, we could instead work through trade embassies.”

Tann was silent, long finger steepling. “I understand your point. I will at the very least keep Aya briefed on current intelligence and operatives. But trade embassies…it will be difficult to make that happen, Ryder. I can’t say until I review the paperwork, but my initial answer is no.”

She swallowed her shame, her well-grown desire for punishment in the face of failure. This was about more than her, this was about innocent people. “There are thousands of civilians leading blameless lives here—”

Tann’s eyes suddenly glowed with an old, painful fury. “They are traitors and deserters, the utter antithesis of ‘blameless.’ If it weren’t for the Angara I would have blown up their operations cycles past—”

She ignored his venom, his uncharacteristic emotion. “You just said the Angara will be sympathetic to their own. How will it look if we abandon those deserters?”

“Justified.” Tann snapped. “The Angara are not idiots, for all their obsessive return to emotions. They approved the Roekarr’s executions without an ocean of tears. Don’t hide behind diplomacy when there is no need for it, Pathfinder. Submit your reports. Understand that this operation has been excused from your authority as Pathfinder—you will be expected to provide support to the Initiative as deemed appropriate and necessary. You do not act without my orders.”

There was a long silence. Ryder said, felt, did—nothing. She endured until it was over. Tann, a million miles away, had screwed up his lips, now looking faintly uncomfortable. She could see him coaxing himself into speaking. “Pathfinder,” Tann eventually said. “I was unprofessional. I apologize. I will not minimize your achievements. There is no shame in admitting that you lack the resources to achieve something. I hope we will be able to work together.”

He stopped again. Hollowly, Ryder realized that she was supposed to say something—something obsequious, subservient. She lacked the energy. “Me too, Director,” she managed, and cut the feed.

In the silence that followed Tann’s call, Ryder emptied herself. She let me mind cloud over, filled only with the gentle hum from the Tempest’s distant engines. She bowed her head, and bent at the waist to slump her body over the conference table. There was a strange, almost sharp pain digging into the muscles behind her left shoulder.

She wasn’t going to cry. If she cried, it was because she was frustrated. But she wasn’t going to cry.

“Damn,” Ryder whispered, and forced herself back upright, keying in Reyes’ number. The call she wanted to make even less. The one she would gladly run from forever.

He didn’t turn on his video, but his voice patched in, surrounding her, “Yes?”

Good. She didn’t want to see him. Even more, she didn’t want him see her. Did he sound off? It was probably just her nerves. Ryder wiped at her cheeks. “Hey. I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

Ryder swallowed. Her hands were shaking. All of her, actually. She trembled. “I called the Nexus. I don’t have authority over this investigation anymore. I’ll make recommendations for a limited, discreet operation—maybe the establishment of some trade embassies—but, but I don’t know. I don’t have any confidence that it’s going to fly. Tann hates the deserters, I think he’ll try for a full military operation.” She bit her tongue. If she apologized, she’d cry. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t tell him.

He didn’t answer her for so long that she began to wonder if he’d hung up on her, if that was it. The end, without apology. “Why?” Reyes asked. He sounded genuinely puzzled, almost innocent. Ryder squeezed her eyes closed. He couldn’t see her. She slid to the floor, her back curling tightly around the conference table’s leg.

“Because—” her voice was shaking. Ryder stopped, swallowing. “Because I can’t do it anymore. I can’t live with myself, knowing how terrible this investigation is, how badly I’ve compromised things. I can’t—I can’t just let things fall apart. I can’t keep letting people be turned into victims. I needed to admit that I couldn’t fix things the day I landed on Kadara, and I didn’t. I tried, but things just got worse, and that’s on me. It’s because I let my feelings for you get in the way of everything else. Even now, I’m still calling you—” she broke off, her heart racing. The water ran from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words slipping free from her. She loathed herself, her own contemptible weakness. She pressed a hand over her nose and mouth, and held her breath. In the silence, she shook.

She could hear Reyes sigh. His breathing. He listened. “I understand,” he said. His voice was gentle, too gentle. “Okay. I understand.”

She shook her head, not speaking.

He went on, now asking, “Are you leaving?”

“No. I’m supposed to stay on Kadara, support the Initiative’s efforts.”

“Does Tann know how dangerous it is? For you?” his voice got an edge, a lilt of accusation.

“What? I don’t know. Maybe. He said he was reading Scott’s reports.” Ryder wiped her eyes again. She pulled her knees up to her chest. “It doesn’t really matter. Dangerous or not, either way we have to deal with Kadara. Whether it’s dangerous for me or for someone else—well, it’s all the same, right?” A suspicious wiggle of a thought began to take form, then collapsed. She was too tired, too emotionally strained.

“It matters.” Reyes said, beginning to sound dangerously removed. Ryder closed her eyes. Her body sagged. She waited. He was requesting video feed—like hell. She denied, wiping the black smudges of her eye make-up, her stupid, shiny eye shadow turned to glittery muck. “I want to see you,” Reyes insisted.

“My connection stinks,” she lied.

“I mean in person. I want to talk. I have to tell you something.”

Ryder almost giggled. Her shoulders, at least, lurched up. “Are you going to shoot me? Like Sloane?”

“Don’t joke,” Reyes snapped. “Do you really think I’d shoot you?”

“I don’t know,” Ryder mumbled. She wasn’t sure she really cared either, right now. “Where? I’ll come alone. Bring your sniper if you want.”

There was a clicking, sort of snappy sound, teeth snapping together. “I mean it. Don’t joke about that.”

“Okay,” Ryder agreed, now with a wave of fresh despair. “I can do that.”

“I’m not angry,” he said, perhaps in response to her dulled voice. Ryder sniffled.

“You can be angry. I called the cops on your party.”

“It’s fine. It’s over anyway. I’ll explain later, I promise. Just let me see you.”

She was off the clock, anyway. Ryder hauled herself upright. “I can leave in half an hour. Send me the nav-point.” It was rude to break up over the phone, anyway. She at least owed him that. Or a chance on her life, which she also wouldn’t necessarily begrudge.

“Fly safe. And don't worry. It's going to be fine,” he said, and hung up.

#mass effect andromeda #reyes #reyes ryder #reyes/ryder #reyder #sara ryder #reyes vidal #grosscreations #jarun tann #suvi anwar #lexi t'perro #keema dohrgun #scott ryder

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phanarchy-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Always

Words: 2,886

Warnings: angst, aggression

Dan and Phil have been raising their daughter Emmy Louise perfectly well for a few years now, but then she’s thrown into the spotlight. What will happen when Dan and Phil can’t agree on how to protect her?

Part 4 of a series which starts with The End of All Things! Can be read separately but for the full experience, follow the link above!

Dan gazed fondly as Emmy ran up to Phil and lifted her arms up high.

“You can say it. Use your words,” Phil said gently, putting the wooden spoon down and stepping away from the sauce pot on the stove.

“Up!” Emmy cheered in a small voice. Phil smiled at her and lifted her to his waist, resting her on his cocked-out hip and letting her look into the spaghetti sauce. He kept a hesitant watch, being sure no bubbles popped at her.

“Remember Emmy,” Dan called from his seat at the table. “After dinner it’s play time, and then we’ll tuck you into bed. Then if you need something you have to go to daddy because I’ll be working, okay?”

Emmy took a second to process it all, and then nodded. “Okay, Dad.” Dan grinned widely. She’d only just learned how to put together sentences, and even though it was a short one, he couldn’t imagine being more proud.

Phil lifted Emmy off his hip and set her down on the floor. “Now run along and play, this is almost done.” Emmy ran off, and Phil smiled at Dan, “How did I get so lucky?”

“Well, she’s half you,” Dan replied.

“Yeah, she’s also half you,” he said. “Which is a good thing. I just realized that made it sound like that’d make her worse, but I think that’s why she’s so great.”

Dan stood up and crossed the room to meet his husband, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. “You know, I’m pretty lucky myself.” He kissed him softly, letting himself feel it in his chest.

Dan closed his copy of “House at Pooh Corner” and peeked above it to see Emmy had fallen fast asleep. Phil looked down at his watch.

“Time for your live show?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be cutting it close,” Dan replied. “I’ll meet you in bed in an hour.” Dan winked, only half joking.

They took turn kissing Emmy on the head, and grasped hands as they left her room, holding on for as long as they could while parting directions.

Dan entered the office and, browser already open to YouNow, hit the “Go Live” button.

“Hi guys!” he chuckled. “‘You look like shit’ someone says.” He laughs again. “I do look like shit! Thanks for pointing it out chat! I’ve just had a long day. Parent life, you know. But she’s asleep now, so shhh..” he raised one finger to his lips hushing the computer, which was of course silent anyway.

Dan watched as chat exploded. He expected it, of course. Any time he mentioned Phil, or Emmy. Frustratingly enough, it was as if the relationship between the three of them were what people cared about more than anything. As if their actual accomplishments were meaningless because they had love. Some days he appreciated it, other days like today, it was a bit annoying. He had plenty of experience hiding that though.

“No, I’m not going to get Emmy,” he said as he continued scrolling. “She needs sleep. Trying to get her on a consistent schedule, of course. Don’t want her ending up like me. And Phil needs his shower, so no him for now either, I’m afraid. You’ll have to deal with just me. On my live show.”

He tapped his lip with his thumb, wondering what else he could talk about. He realized at that moment that he didn’t do much apart from care for Emmy Louise anymore. Not that he was a particularly active person before, but he made videos more often back when she was a baby and he didn’t worry about her running into shot while filming, and needing to start over.

“No, I haven’t seen the newest Game of Thrones episode,” he answered, still mindlessly reading the screen, answering any questions he could find that didn’t center on his daughter or husband. “I could tell you all about Baby Einstein though.” He laughed. Truth be told, he actually enjoyed watching it with her.

Just then, Dan heard little footsteps coming up behind him. And crying.

“Dad dad dad dad,” Emmy said, hiccuping as she cried. Dan turned to find Emmy sobbing behind him, blanky in hand and sucking her thumb with tears streaming down her face. He immediately got out of his chair and knelt down in front of her.

“What happened?” he asked and opened his arms wide. She threw herself into them and buried her head in his neck.

“Bad dream,” she mumbled, sniffling hard.

“It’s okay sweetie, they’re not real.” He picked her up and sat with her in his chair, her back facing the camera, so at the very least she wasn’t totally exposed. He pulled her back a bit to look her in the eyes. He wiped the thick mop of wavy brown hair from her face and looked into her blue eyes. “You know what grandma told me about bad dreams? She said once you tell someone about them, they don’t come back anymore. So you’re safe with me now. You can fall back asleep here.” He pushed her head gently back onto his shoulder, and leaned back in his chair. “But Dad’s still working, so I’m gonna talk to these guys too,” he said. “Sorry about this,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but also smiling. “Realities of parenthood.” He rocked her back to sleep.

“Dan, have you seen Tumblr yet this morning?” Phil asked, sipping his coffee slowly. Dan sighed from the other side of the sofa. “Of course,” he said. He peeked behind his laptop screen. Emmy was there on the floor, playing with her blocks. Dan knew he had to be careful about what to say around her.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said. “I thought she’d be asleep longer. I wouldn’t have showered if I knew she’d have a nightmare.”

“Phil, that’s alright. I just worry, you know?” He kept scrolling through the website, and of course their tags were full of their daughter’s face. He reached his hand up to stroke over his face, contemplating what to do next.

Most of the pictures and comments were nice, sure. Some of them, not so much. One troublesome user had already turned Emmy’s sobbing face into a reaction meme. He’d found it being used a couple times outside of the fandom. People who didn’t even know who they were or where it came from were now spreading her image like wild fire.

“She didn’t ask for this,” Dan said quietly.

“I know, Dan.” Phil reached for his husband’s hand, and looked at him with the deepest level of concern Dan had ever seen on him.

“We have to do something,” Dan said. Phil squeezed his hand in reply.

Hours passed, and once they had successfully dropped Emmy Louise off with her god mother Louise, they were ready to have this conversation uninhibited.

“Phil, we can’t subject her to this,” Dan started. “I don’t know how we thought we could avoid it, but it’s starting way earlier than I would have expected. She’s a baby still, really.”

“I know Dan, but I don’t know how to avoid it any better than we have been. For the most part, things have been good. I think it’ll all blow over. Give it a week or two,” Phil said.

“Yeah, this will blow over, but what about next time?” Dan was beginning to raise his voice at Phil, the anxiety of it all causing him to feel angry with Phil for not being just as upset as he was. “Will she deal with this shit her whole life?”

“No, of course not,” Phil said automatically.

“What do you mean, ‘Of course not’? How can you possibly guarantee that?”

Dan stood up from where he was sitting across from Phil. He began to pace, and ran his fingers through his hair, puffing the front up into a quiff.

“Dan, calm down. We’ll figure something out,” Phil attempted to reassure him.

“What if she’s picked on in school because of us?” Dan asked. He stopped and looked Phil directly in the eye. “For having two dads who are practically famous for being two nerds on the internet.”

“If she’s picked on, she’ll grow into a very strong little girl. That happens sometimes, Dan. We can’t prevent anything bad from ever happening to her,” Phil said. His voice was firm now. He was getting mad now too, because for some reason, everything Dan said sounded like placing blame on him.

“Shouldn’t we at least fucking try? Damn, I know you had friends in school, and that got you through it, but I was picked on, and I went through school alone. I hated myself. I don’t ever want Emmy to go through that.”

Phil stood right in front of Dan and, without realizing it, puffed his chest out. “Neither do I, so what do you suggest we do about it?!” Phil shouted.

“I think we should stop,” Dan said resolutely. Phil stopped in his tracks. Dan was motionless. He let it sink in. “I think we should quit.”

“What?” he yelled, totally shocked. “No way in hell! Quit YouTube over some trolls posting pictures? When has that ever stopped us before?!” Phil threw his arms up in the air.

“Phil, this is our daughter!” Dan screamed. “Don’t you get that?! It’s not about us anymore!” Dan turned and kicked the coffee table. His foot collided with it with a loud bang. Pain shot up through his leg, but he was too angry to let it show. Instead, it just made him want to hit more things. He clenched his fists by his sides.

Phil slammed his hand against the wall, desperate to get the upper hand in the conversation somehow. “Yeah, and what will that show her? That you should run and hide from the things we’re afraid of? Is that what we should teach her?”

“It would show her that we love her, and that we’re good fathers,” he spat.

“Oh, so if I disagree I’m not a good father. Is that what this is?” Phil accused. “I don’t love her?”

Dan quieted at that. “That’s not what I said, Phil.”

“It’s not what you said, but it’s what you meant. How dare you,” Phil said. “How fucking dare you.” His voice was low, husky. He stomped out of the room and up the stairs, into their shared bedroom. Dan followed behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, nervously.

“Packing,” Phil said. He threw a handful of shirts from the closet into his luggage, hangers and all. Dan stood completely still, watching his every movement.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“My parents,” he said simply. He turned to the drawers and pulled out a few pairs of jeans. Now Dan was angry again.

“Oh sure, so it’s not okay to run and hide to protect our daughter from potential crazy people, but it’s okay to run and hide at mummy’s and daddy’s because you can’t get through an argument with your husband? Great message, Phil.” The sarcasm was dripping from his voice. Behind it all, Dan wished for nothing more than for Phil to put the clothes down. To talk to him.

“What can I say?” Phil said. “I’m not a good father, so what do I know?”

The words hit Dan like a freight train and he understood. He knew the line had been crossed and there was no easy way to come back from it.

Phil was shuffling down the stairs, Dan trailing him.

“Phil, don’t,” he said.

“Really, Phil, stop.”

Phil’s hand turned the knob.

“Fucking, really Phil,” and the door slammed in Dan’s face.

“Fine then! Go!” Dan waited to hear the door knob turn again, but instead he heard Phil’s pounding footsteps and the wheels of his truck fading into the distance.

Dan turned his back to the door, and slunk into a puddle on the floor, head in his hands and sobbing.

Just before 8 o’clock, Louise rang and Dan buzzed her in. Phil was still gone, and Dan had no idea what he was going to say to Emmy.

Louise brought Emmy inside and she ran to Dan and quickly grasped onto his leg. He bent down to grab her and brought her up to his level. He smiled widely at her, overcompensating. He brought her in tightly for a hug.

Behind her head, Louise gave Dan a knowing look. He shook his head at her. The air in the room was thick with the question.

“Where’s Daddy?” Emmy asked happily.

“Daddy’s gone to visit Grandma and Grandpa Lester for a bit. But he told me to tell you he loves you so much and to give you a kiss from him!” Emmy puckered her lips like a fish and Dan kissed them, sending her into a fit of giggles. He bounced her a few times before setting her down. “Almost bed time, sweetie. Play for now while I talk to Aunt Louise.”

“Anything?” she asked, glancing at the young girl behind Dan, worried what this all means for her.

“Not a word,” Dan said. He began to wring his hands nervously. Louise pulled him into a hug.

“He’ll come back,” she whispered to him. She backed away and nodded at him. “I’m going to head out so you can put her to sleep, and call Phil, okay?” She said the last part cheerily, to keep up appearances for Emmy.

Is this what their future would be like?

Emmy had fallen asleep two hours ago, and Dan still hadn’t called Phil. What could he say? That he was sorry? That he was a jackass? That everything would work out, he just knew it? How could he tell Phil that things would work out when he felt like they were all falling apart?

Dan put on Spotify low over the speakers in the bedroom. He wanted the music to distract him as much as it could. Of course, the universe was not so kind. When the universe wants something, it makes it happen. That’s what it felt like when the first song began to play. A beautiful acoustic riff drifted into the room.

When the world gets too heavy put it on my back,

I’ll be your levy. You are taking me apart,

like bad glue on a get well card.

Dan was crying again already.

It was always you falling for me,

now there’s always time, calling for me.

I’m the light blinking at the end of the road.

Blink back to let me know.

Dan laid down on his bed. It felt empty without the weight of his husband on the opposite side. He let his tears drip down the sides of his cheeks as the music washed over him.

Oh the castle’s under siege,

but the sign outside says “Leave me alone”.

Dan heard the patter of little feet outside his door, and the thought of it threw him into sobs.

Blink back to let me know. (It was always you.)

The door creaked open slowly, and there she was. He couldn’t hide from her this time. Emmy ran in and climbed up into the bed.

“I miss Daddy too,” she said. She hugged her dad and rubbed his arm.

Dan cried harder and gently brushed her hair from her face. He patted her head.

“Let’s call him,” Dan said. He reached for his phone and dialed. Each each ring the knot in his chest grew tighter, unsure of what he would say. It was late now. Would Phil even pick up?

Phil’s voice came across the voice mail, in a cheerful tone that spread warmth to Dan’s heart while also mocking him.

“Phil, Emmy needs you tonight.” He sniffled. “I really need you tonight.” His voice broke and he began choking back tears through the phone. He hung up. Dan laid down again in the bed and pulled Emmy close to his chest.

“Let’s go back to sleep, honey.” Dan forced a smile. “We’ll see Daddy again soon.”

Dan woke to the rustle of the covers as Phil climbed in behind him. He rolled over gently, so as not to wake Emmy.

“Phil?” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Phil said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know Dan, me too.” He pulled his shirt over his head and crawled in further underneath the blankets, facing his husband.

“We don’t have to quit YouTube, I was overreacting,” Dan said as he curled into Phil’s chest.

“You were scared and confused. I should have understood where you were coming from before. We really should do our best to protect her,” Phil said as he wrapped his hand around Dan’s side. Dan nodded his head.

“But it’s been done before. She can live happily with us doing our jobs too,” Dan reminded him, still half to encourage himself.

“Tomorrow we’ll do more research on how best to go about raising a child in the spotlight like this,” Phil said. Dan nodded again, feeling a lot better now they had a plan. Silence fell over the bedroom as they drifted towards sleep in each others’ arms. Just before Phil fell asleep he heard-

“Phil?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you. Always.”

Thoughts? Comments? Reactions? I love feedback!

#phanfiction #phanfic #parent!phan

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

Text

[SF] You're Not Me, You're Anything But

The Pesta building was a twisty and messy multi-coloured skyscraper. As John and his parents entered the building, its doors opened in a convoluted way that took more time than needed.

They walked up to the E-kiosk to sign up for a clone. There were many people inside the building, most of them were just there to take pictures of the "artistic" rainbow-coloured sculptures.

The rest were there to buy the company's newly released Pesta clothing; head-turning clothingware with the large words PESTA running across the front and back.

None of their products were cheap, but the most expensive of all was their main attraction, what had started their company in the first place, Memory Clones (This product was used to advertise many of their other products).

So when John, at the age of 16, had applied for a clone with his parents, they were immediately brought to the interview room as no one else in the building could afford to buy one.

He had always wanted to learn more and more things. The only thing that could stop him from doing so in the future is that there isn't enough time to learn everything. So when a company had claimed that they improved other company's clones by allowing the clone and the buyer to transfer each other's memories, John had wanted his wealthy parents to get him one ever since. Not only that, he could show off to his friends.

The interview room was completely white and had some extremely small but fancy chairs, a chamber with a chunk of machinery beside it, and a monitor that covered the entire wall similar to the ones in every other household which people used for communication and entertainment.

The screen flashed on and explained how the interview works. It would use the company's trademark memory bank to scan John's memories for any signs that would show that two of him would mean double trouble.

John nervously approached the monitor, which had a smiling face flashed on it. Atleast it's a machine thats looking through my memories and not a human, he thought.

John put on the memory helmet, and after a few minutes in which the machine had flipped through every moment of John's life to be stored into the company's database, John was deemed to be a "safe person" and a Memory Drive (designed after a thumbdrive used in the olden days) popped out of the machine.

John was then needed to insert the Memory Drive into the machinery linked to the chamber. His parents had left long ago to buy Pesta merchandise while John took off his clothes and stepped into the chamber, where a green horizontal light scanned his body. After which, he was required to come back in two weeks.

At school, John liked a girl named Connie. They were good friends even if the both of them were frequently annoyed by each other. Connie was very nice to people but she did not have a lot of friends, even if she wears all the latest fashion trends and eats all the latest trendy food. (John thinks that it might be because she isn't as sociably active as everyone else. This had caused Connie to ignore John for three whole days before both parties apologised)

Even though they were good friends, he never dared to even hint at the fact that he liked her. If he were to be rejected, his entire school life's reputation would be doomed.

During the two weeks of wait, he didn't think much of Connie, he could only think about the infinite possibilities of having a clone.

He had another best friend who was as excited as he was. "Is he going to come to our school? Do clones even get education? You could totally let him learn everything in the textbook and then take those memories, right?"

John thought those were good questions, and they made him even more excited. Although, no, he thought. He is not going to come to my school. This thought made him feel sort of bad, but after all, he bought the clone for a lot of cash and it was a product after all, right?

The day finally came, and John could not stop posting about how excited he was while on the car ride. The room in the Pesta building was tense, and when the clone came out from the chamber, John had completely different feelings from what he had expected to feel...

The ride home was quiet. John could not stop thinking about how the clone had looked when he stepped out of the chamber. It, or he, was scared, probably from standing inside the chamber for hours for dramatic effect, but also because although the clone looked exactly like John, John also knew that the clone wasn't him.

John felt disturbed by that fact, as if he was looking at a shapeshifter. It had skin and eyes and a nose like John but they weren't his. They were the organs extracted from dead corpses that matched his.

Not only that, the clone looked like an improved version of John. He had noticed this as he watched Clone John awed by himself while looking at the mirror. There were no imperfections, not a single pimple.

There was also an implant at the side of Peter's neck that not only shows that he is a clone but also stores his memories which can be transferred using the Memory Drive to John.

The first day with the clone was extremely uncomfortable for the both of them. Their parents had immediately left them to get to know each other. (This was dumb of course, as Clone John had the exact same memories of John)

John found Clone John to be extremely unsettling. It walked around the house without saying a word. Clone John meanwhile was extremely confused and traumatised by his existence.

He remembers that he himself had bought a clone, but that product he bought turned out to be himself. There was a memory gap in between the moments where the machine scanned for John's memories and the moment when he had been created.

It was terrifying for him. When he first woke up, he thought the machine had stolen his memories and the evil businessman had taken him away to a dark room for experiments. Everything was eventually explained however, but it made it worse.

"What? I'm not a clone! I wanted to buy a clone, this must be a mistake!" He had screamed frantically to the Pesta Clone Counsillor. "I suggest you to not think about it too much and get in the chamber, you and your family are coming to pick you up", the Pesta Councillor replied. "Anyways, there are many clone therapy groups out there".

After Clone John reached "home" and changed out of its complementary Pesta clothing, which Original John had taken from it, it used John's monitor to ask online about how he was supposed to act, but it already knew this, it was supposed to do anything the original wanted it to do.

This was what clones were originally made to do. A robot regularly malfunctions and it doesn't know what you want. A clone knows exactly what you want, it is you after all.

When John's parents called for John to wash the dishes and Clone John had reacted, John freaked. "They weren't calling you! You're not John, you're not me, okay? Next time, your name is freaking Peter!" He didn't even think about the name, he just thought of Peter, it was the first thing that came to his mind.

John woke up the second day to find the now-called Peter watching the latest album by Tricky on the huge monitor. The speakers blasted and it felt like the wall was screaming at you while you watched the high resolution images flash across your eyes. If you don't blink every few seconds, you could get a seizure.

John decided to be more open towards Peter and so they started to play online games with each other. It was fun at first, but that was because they didn't converse. The experience was completely ruined for the both of them the moment either of them started talking.

John noticed that Peter made alot of unfunny sex jokes. He even tried to impress him or something through relatable humour. Yeah, no shit, John thought, I'm literally you. Even so, he tried his best to force a laugh.

Peter caught the fact that John was fake laughing and rolling his eyes, so whenever John did that, Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes as well. Who the hell does he think he is, and my name isn't fucking Peter.

The next time Peter ever said anything to John, he said it so softly that John had to say "What?" a bunch of times before he could hear him. This low level of confidence annoyed the hell out of John.

At 12 o'clock, it was the start of school. John picked the most trendiest set of clothes he could find that wasn't dirty and took 20 minutes to make himself look "presentable" while Peter watched from the bed, which they had to share.

At one point, Peter got fustrated by how long John had to do his hair in which John responded by saying "Well you're not the one going to school asshole" and then rushed off in embarrassment.

Two hours had passed and Peter had become extremely anxious as to what John was doing at school. He had not gotten used to the fact that he was supposed to be the "inferior" version of himself and was extremely mad at how John could track whatever Peter did but he couldn't.

The feeling of not knowing what you yourself was doing felt mind-boggling to Peter

It was 6p.m. when John had returned home from school. This was supposed to be the happiest time of the day but instead, he was met with angry parents and a crying Peter.

John's parents used the Memory Drive and took a copy of Peter's memories before inserting it into the monitor to be played. It was a first person view of Peter's perspective.

Peter had went online and searched up porn before being caught be his parents. John felt like vomiting. He was going to say that it wasn't him that did it but then he realised that was a shitty excuse.

Instead, he apologised while completely blushed. He had never ever wanted his parents to ever know that he watched that type of stuff. He knew most of his classmates watched it but he felt so morally and ethically wrong that he wanted to end his life.

"Get out! Get the fuck out of the house! You're not me, you barely resemble me you annoying obnoxious asshole!"

Three days in and Peter was already kicked out. It was alright, John thought. They were rich anyways. It was all fine.

But it wasn't. He looked in the mirror and he couldn't see himself anymore, what he used to be.

He thought he was attractive but now he finds himself disgusting. He thought he was funny but now he cringes everytime he thinks of the things he says to his friends.

In this happy, sociable, attractive, open, progressive world, he was nothing. Overshadowed by his friends, who would become celebrities if they liked. He was barely bare minimum in this world where you buy and buy and buy and eat and drink and wear all the shit other people wear.

He was rich but there was nothing special about that, he had other rich friends who were much more social and attractive than he was. They could do something and it would become a trend. Trendsetters were the real celebrities in this society. John was only a trend follower, a normal person.

Except a trend follower was bare minimum and he didn't have any of the stand out traits that you atleast need to have or you would be like a sheep in a pen full of sheep. Atleast the other trend followers were funny or smart or... or...

Quickly and unexpectedly, prom was coming and in the spirit of a long long tradition known as Pride Month. Everyone went up to the latest social media platforms to spam hashtags.

The school was suddenly pink and rainbow and all the students were as well. Companies rushed in products with HashtagLGBT and HashtagPride imprinted over all of the cups and shirts and caps.

Soon, everyone was wearing all types of colourful clothing and dancing, having a good time. (This only lasted a month before everything suddenly reverted back to normal, which to be fair is quite similar)

A happy happy tradition to celebrate progressiveness and equality. To celebrate the suddenly booming economy of companies and the likes that overfill on people's posts and oh joy, next month is going to be Earth Electricity Month!

John, nervous as ever, struggled to get through the rainbow crowd of laughing and dancing schoolmates wearing Pesta hoodies. He was trying to find Connie to ask her out for prom which started two weeks later.

There she was, in the middle of a crowd by herself, dancing with a smile on. John held his left elbow with his right hand and trembled towards Connie.

Connie saw John approaching her and stopped dancing. At a closer look, she was more beautiful than ever, John thought.

"John!" She exclaimed.

"A- Alot of people... huh? What... What is it someone's uhh... birthday party or something?" John tried to deliver a joke as well as he could.

Connie laughed at this. Not knowing what the laugh meant, John forced a laugh and rushed out of the school before it even started.

He was in need of someone to talk to. He wasn't going to talk to his parents because they were too busy doing emotional therapy for other people, which was more like constantly telling them to be happy.

After everything he had witnessed about himself through Peter, he was too ashamed to even talk to his best friends.

Day One of hiding at home: John cried for the whole day, it is extremely rude and socially unethical to cry outside anyways. This was what Peter did however, as he walked through the streets of Sengkang, causing many turned heads and glares.

Day Two: His parents scolded him for skipping on school. Making friends in school was a crucial part of life. Now how is he going to know what everyone else liked doing?

Day Three: John talked to people online, they were mostly people asking if anyone could sell them an extra set of Pesta clothing, but atleast he talked to someone.

Day Four: John met Indiana. He started talking to him on a small subreddit for sad people. Most of the people there had been using newly made accounts, including Indiana.

I feel lost and sad. I used to be fine and happy and well but now I feel as if all of that part of me left and I'm left with the part of me that's a goddam loser, oh God, I don't even know if my friends like me or maybe they just want to seem like nice people or something idk, im sorry i dont usually express myself like this im sorry.

John's post was then replied to by an account named "throwaway12134423".

"If you need someone to talk to you, I can be that guy, I'm feeling down myself"

At first, they introduced themselves, which was an extremely numbingly long procedure. John had to carefully decide all the words he wanted to use so as to not scare away Indiana. He tried to portray himself as as likable and as relatable as possible.

Indiana, however, introduced himself with no hesitation at all. He was currently living with a nice family and was unemployed. However, lately, he had been dealing with troubles similar to John.

"Wait, wait. How do you usually relieve your fustrations?" John had typed out to Indiana. (Of course, it wasn't exactly what he typed out, just translated from slang)

"Uhm... Read books, reflect about your life and uh... believe in yourself?"

"Dude, that is cheesy as hell hahaha"

"Come on, man, that's literally what I do. What do you want me to say when it's actually what I did, no matter how cheesy it sounds. Doesn't this happen to you sometimes as well?"

"Uhm... I guess? Although I'm not sure if I only do that because I want people to like me"

"Bruh, mood"

John was legitimately having fun talking to Indiana. Sure, sometimes they don't agree with each other like how John thinks that being yourself doesn't always work.

"You can't always be yourself. What if you're like a pedophile or a racist or something, are you seriously just going to quote on quote be yourself"

"Dude, you know that's not what I mean. Also, something must have gone wrong in your life in the first place for you to be a racist or a pedophile"

"How would you know anyways, I heard a long time ago that people thought being LGBT was a choice"

"I'm just thinking for myself, which is by the way, what you should do. I've been trying out myself these past days and boy, I am feeling free for once".

"Oough, I think you added too much cheese"

John knew he was right though. Even if it was something so obvious like a moral of the story in those children books where they learn "Teamwork is good", for some reason, John realised he hasn't been thinking for himself.

He could have just told Connie what he really wanted to say. The only reason why he left was because he didn't act like what other people acted like; happy.

He and everyone else have been living their whole lives restricted to displaying emotions of happiness and anger and nothing else. Happy to say yes and angry to say no.

He could see it not that Connie wasn't just happy that day. She was feeling lonely and sad and angry at herself for not being "truly happy" like everyone else. What would have made her truly happy would be if John had just said what he really felt.

"We've been talking behind a screen for nine freaking days. I want to meet up. Tomorrow, 6p.m. at Punggol Park?" John typed it out and hesitated before finally putting in the courage to send it.

"Definitely. I swear I was going to say it right before you did hahaha"

Four days before prom: The park was almost completely empty, everyone else was out at Orchard Road and Serangoon Road partying about Tree Conservation Day with a mix of Pride Month.

Anxious and excited, John sat on the bench and could not stop fidgeting. He had arrived two hours too early and now it was five minutes from six o'clock. "What if he doesn't come?", he had asked himself.

This thought was dismissed, Indiana didn't seem like the kind of person to miss this, but then everyone else also didn't act like the person they really were.

Suddenly, a loud bang came from behind John which made him jump and land back hard on the bench. He turned around and there was suddenly a crowd of people.

Knowing it was trouble, John ran towards it instinctively to see the commotion. Everyone else was pushing one another to get a good look, picture, and video of what was going on.

They were surrounding a pink car and a pool of blood was starting to form underneath everyone's Pesta shoes. John could hear someone scream "It was an accident, I'm not a bad person! Please! Stop taking videos of me! He ran in front of the car, it was his god damn fault, I swear!"

John tried to push to see who it was that was hit. Suddenly, one woman saw John and exclaimed, "Look! It's him!", and soon, everyone started to point their cameras at John.

He circled around the crowd that was now following him with their phones and saw who it was.

It was him.

It was Peter.

Unexpectedly, tears started to form around John's eyes. He didn't even like Peter when he was with him and now when he died, John felt a weight of guilt drop on him.

It was just four days before the prom and John had to deal with the death of a family member. John demanded that his parents get Peter a proper burial. This had confused them as they thought John didn't even care for the clone.

For the next two days, John was constantly bombarded with messages and posts that tagged him saying "RIP John's Clone" with a bunch of sad emojis and a gray picture of John. He did not even know most of these people well.

One of them had even said "Rest in Peace John, you were my best friend #RIP #Sad".

John extracted the clone's memories and watched everything that the clone had experienced on three times speed for the whole day.

He had felt so bad for him, not just because Peter was John himself. John had even momentarily forgot and thought of Peter as a completely different person.

Peter had screamed for John and his parents to let him in while crying for the first two days after he was kicked out.

The next day, which was the start of Pride Month, Peter had roamed the streets, begging for food from the dancing and partying youngsters and adults.

On the second day, Peter had been taken in by a kind stranger for one day. He had introduced himself as Indiana and he was living all alone. Alone but happy.

Indiana had made Peter food and had let him read some of his books. As he sat on the bed while Indiana slept on the couch, he read many of the books and poems that Indiana had and cried.

He did not understand many of them at first, but as the night progressed, he felt more and more connected to the characters. He felt, for once in his life, truly free and happy.

On the third day, Peter went back on the streets and started writing about the things he saw. He used to think that the twisty and colourful buildings were creative and beautiful before, but he now realised they looked extremely unnerving.

He realised there was almost no nature to be found anywhere. The city was symmetrical and colourful and nothing else. It was full of streetlights and neon rainbow colours because the tall glass buildings made great big shadows over the city.

He slept behind the Pesta building where it was dark and quiet. The next morning, he was immediately caught and taken away by authorities to the Clone Holding Center.

They referred to the code on Peter's memory implant so as to find who the owner was. Peter, however, told them that it was not necessary. Meanwhile, Peter used the monitor in the holding center and started to make an account on Reddit.

"throwaway12132243"

He went on that subreddit, and saw John's post. At this point, John had started to burst down crying.

On the day that "Indiana" was going to meet John, he looked at himself in the mirror.

"John... I know that you will see this when I die or when you find me again and you want to see my memories or whatever. I want you to know that I'm sorry for everything that I have caused. Most importantly, I want to... to say is to be yourself. I have finally met someone I can relate and feel connected to, and I finally feel free because... because I accept now who I want to be, not what others expect me to do, which is to follow what they do...

I know that on the day I was kicked out of our... your house that you feel off from the world because that's what I felt. When we were together, you know that we were both acting the way society wants us to act... because I caught the cues you made and you caught the cues I made and we both realised how wrong it was. So to that, I just want to say, stop acting like someone you're not. I know it sounds cheesy but it is working out for me and it will work out for you because we started out the same except for that two week gap which I am sure won't mean anything. Alright, I got to go. I'm meeting a friend, which if you have been watching my memories, you already know... okay, bye."

They walked around the park. Connie was still confused as to why John had suddenly disappeared for so long. "Where were you? I never saw you again after that moment at school!"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"Yeah, you better be! I was all alone by myself at school for a week! I literally cried in class by the fifth day you weren't here and I'm pretty sure everyone hates me now..."

They both laughed.

"Heard your clone died... sorry about that. Must be traumatising to see yourself... uh..."

"It's fine. We had a short time together but it was good times..."

"Connie... We've been friends for about four years now and I am so god damn sad that we are never going to see each other ever again after this year..."

"Yeah...", the tears from Connie's eyes were threatening to drop and she tried her best to hide it from John, "M- me too..."

"So... Connie, I want to..." John had let off a deep sigh.

"Will you go to prom with me?"

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