#sorry this got a little tin foil hat huh

[copiawife]

ok everyone's asleep so can i just say real talk? i don't think copia's going to be killed off in preparation for the next album. like this isn't just me wanting him to not die (because i think i've voiced my mixed feelings on that, like that it's maybe being more narratively satisfying/interesting, at least to me) but also i just think about like. the tweet they put out about the brisbane ritual, capping it off with "the empire is built". and although i do my best to avoid footage from that ritual just because it's very emotionally tender for me, i did see a clip where he explicitly mentions a successor, which isn't like, crazy, given the pattern with the band. so what i think is going to happen is that he's not necessarily stepping down as papa, but at least as the leader of the band, and that there's going to be somebody introduced to take over for him and he'll take more of a mentor/guiding role. like the idea that this era has been about the rise and fall of empires, right, and the idea of the empire being built makes me think that he's maybe not going to be the face of the project anymore, but he'll be the one pulling the strings, sort of rebuilding things in his image. does that make sense?

[spicycreativity]

Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

--

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it.  Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he  scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

[blue-diamond-steven]

Real Boy.

"Hey, Connie, do you like it?" Self-conscious, he adjusted his newsboy's cap. He finally worked up the nerve to meet her parents today, but it wasn't meant to be.

"Do I look like a normal boy now?" She grabbed it and his hair popped out, jutting outward from the sides.

"Steven, you already are a normal boy."

He froze, she didn't know? Didn't everybody know about him? He clenched his scarf, he could feel his gem underneath like his heart itself was midway out of his chest. She didn't know. Would he tell her? Would she feel like he had been lying to her this whole time? What if—?

"Steven? Are you okay?" He had paled considerably.

"Yeah," he swallowed, dread flooded his senses, "I'm good."

"I didn't hurt your feelings, did I? I didn't mean that you were average or anything." Beads of sweat formed with phantom tints of aquamarine on his forehead.

"No, no, you didn't I just—," he trailed off as he crafted a halfway decent lie, "—remembered I still have to take the laundry out of the washing machine."

"Oh? Well, we can't have that," she joked.

He grabbed his hat from the coffee table in her living room and headed towards the door, "Thanks for understanding, bye!"

"Wait, Steven!"

The door shut and Steven broke into a mad dash, 'What was the best thing to do?' The Gems would know, Garnet would know.

There was a warp pad in the forest right outside of her neighborhood that he used to visit her; he just needed to get back there before Connie could catch up.

"Steven?" Her voice was faint. Good, she wouldn't see him leave. Snow crunched in his ears just before he vanished in a brilliant flash of mint blue light.

Beach City greeted him with a sea breeze, his midnight blue hair ruffled by the wind. His bangs stuck to his forehead, slicked from sweat. He had accidentally warped to the hand instead of inside the Temple, 'that was fine,' he reassured himself. It was a stressful day. The familiarity of the salty air calmed his nerves slightly. He sat on his knees and leaned back against the cool metal of the washing machine, 'In and out, in and out.' He yanked off his scarf, desperate for air.

What if she became scared of him? His dad was always unnerved by gem stuff, what if she was the same way? What if she only liked him for Human Steven? What if Connie doesn't want to be his friend anymore after this?

He straightened his back and wiped the fresh tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I should go inside," he mumbled to no one in particular. He gripped his arm once he stood on the pad.

How many bowls of blueberry ice cream has he gone through? Two? Four? S-six? However many, his stomach ached.

"Yo, Ste-man! How long have you been here—?" His belly gurgled before he could respond. His hand rushed to his mouth as his stomach lurched.

"That long, huh?"

"Yeah," he placed his bowl in the sink.

"You wanna tell me what's up? Weren't you supposed to be hanging out with that girl today?" He nodded.

"So, what happened?" She poured a bowl of grape ice cream for herself and garnished it with, he grimaced, cilantro.

"Connie, she—," he took in a breath of air as tears prickled in his eyes, "—she doesn't know I'm not human!"

"Oh, is that it?" Amethyst shook the parmesan cheese shaker over her dubious dish.

"What, 'That's it?! That's it!?'"

Garnet placed her hand on his shoulder causing him to jolt upright, she scolded Amethyst, "Don't be rude."

"What? I'm not!”

"If this is distressing for him, don't downplay it."

"It's not a big deal—,"

"Amethyst."

"Whatever, Garnet! You talk to him first."

Garnet gestured for Steven to sit down, patting the vacant sofa cushion, he obliged. Has he really been standing up while eating all that ice cream the whole time? He had some really troubling feelings to bury under food, he supposed glumly.

"Steven, tell us what's wrong."

"Connie doesn't know about," he pulled down his scarf to show his gem, "this. Garnet, I don't know how to tell her or if she'll even want to be my friend after this. I don't want to stop being her friend!"

He hugged Garnet as tears began to flow down his cheeks, burying his face in her torso, "Oh, what if she'd hate me for not telling her?"

"She won't." She rubbed her face under her visor.

"She won't?" He looked up at her, eyes wide.

"If she's really your friend, she'll take this with stride and your bond will strengthen."

"Yeah, dude," Amethyst plopped down on the couch adjacent to him, "If she cares about you, she won't care if your a gem; she likes you for you."

"You think so?" Little stars gleamed in his eyes.

"If she doesn't want to be your friend because of something you can't control, then she was never truly your friend." Garnet ruffled his hair.

She lightly punched his shoulder, "That'd be her loss, man."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right!"

"So are you gonna tell her, Ste-man?"

"The choice is yours."

His chest puffed out with bravado and air, "Okay, I'll do it—," he deflated, anxiety melted through his resolve like a blowtorch to tin foil, "—later." He couldn't go back after how he left, not so soon anyway.

"Whenever you're ready."

She ate another scoopful of her monstrosity, "Yeah, no rush, dude."

Later…

The Maheswaran residence's doorbell rang. Steven clinched the baby blue scarf in tightly his hands. He tugged his hair frustration, why couldn't he just talk to her like a real person!? He was very close to retreating again like he had last week and yesterday, and all the days in between.

Before he could, the door swung open, the hairs of his neck were as high as they could go. Connie and he stared at each other for a moment. Someone had to break the silence.

"Uh, hey?" Was all he could muster with his weak wave.

"Steven?!" She took a step forward, he took a step backward.

"Where have you been?!"

"Around," he said sheepishly.

"I haven't seen you for two weeks, why did you stop coming over?"

"It's not like, I-I didn't;" his scarf obscured his mouth, "I just couldn't work up the nerve to stay."

Something clicked in Connie's mind, "Were you the one ringing my doorbell every day?"

He sunk further into his scarf, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why were you avoiding me? You didn't even call, I—," she reached out to him, he made no movement closer, nor did he back away, "I was worried about you."

"I didn't know—," he cut himself off, maybe this was a mistake.

"You didn't know what?"

"I was scared! I didn't know how you'd react if I told you I wasn't a normal boy."

"Oh!" She slammed her fist on her palm, "Are you gay?"

"Uh," he looked down at the snow, was he?

"I don't know?"

"Well, then, what were you going to tell me? Why don't you come inside; it's cold out there."

"Um, okay." They settled on her sofa.

"Well?"

'Oh, right.'

"Oh, um, well, you see—," was this a good idea?

"Come on, you can tell me."

"I'm, I'm," he steeled his nerves, "I'm not human!" He amended, "I'm only half, I'm sorry for not telling you!"

"What do you mean? Are you a werewolf or something?"

"No," he flushed, "I'm a gem, well, half, on my mom's side," he adjusted his icy blue shawl so she could see it.

The cerulean and azure gem glistened in the daylight leaking in from the windows and yellowed lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling.

Connie stared blankly at the large gemstone poking out of his chest, "So you are, does it do anything?"

He concentrated and pulled an odd looking crossbow out, it manifested in a cluster of cyan sparkles. Connie, nonplussed, tentatively held it, examining it.

"I tried to be normal for you and your parents to like me, I'm sorry. It's okay if you don't want to be my friend anymore."

"No, I don't want to stop being your friend."

"What? Really?"

"So what if you aren't exactly human, you've got magic powers! You just got cooler! Who wouldn't want superpowers?" Diamonds twinkled in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Yeah, I guess." They don't seem so super when compared to the other Gems's.

"Just because you're not all human, doesn't mean you aren't you. You've never stopped being you."

He rubbed the back of his neck, "You're really okay with me not being a real boy?"

She took his hand and held it firmly, giving it a squeeze, "You're a real boy to me."

[chemtrailsturnedmypepegay-blog]

hi my guys i just tried writing my first fanfic and i really hope you like it uwu

its more of a script as i envisioned it as a movie or tv show :3 The Bye Bye Manlet

Jane! Jane! Jane, it's me. Open up. Did you tell anyone? Did i... About the name. The name. Yeah, I told Rick. He thought it was funny. Just Rick and nobody else? No. Why? What's the matter? Barack, what's wrong? I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. Barack, you're scaring me. What are you doing? Rick? Ricky? Rick, the name. Janie! Did you tell anyone? Anyone? Ba… Barack, please. Please. I... Rick, he's coming! The name. Mi... Michelle. I to... I told Michelle. I'm gonna stop you! Michelle! - Barack! - Mom! Run! - Who did you tell? - He killed them! Don't think it. Mom, come on! Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Michelle! Did you say the name? Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't say it. Who did you say the name to, Michelle? Barack! Barack! What's up, playboy? How's it going? Good. Today is a good day. You got the key? No, it's under the mat. Ah. It's only 20 minutes. This is the first time he's rented the place. The guy says it's fantastic. What else would he say? It's a doghouse? I'm trying to convince her. Come on, man. Work with me. Sash? Yeah. I'm up for it. It's a little creepy. Right? Nah, it's just cold. Heat's off. I gotta piss like a racehorse. Cute. Dude! This place is sweet, bro. Hey. Right? We could put the desk over there. We could put the bed here. Well, maybe if there was a bed. I know. The landlord said it was fully furnished. Yo, El, come and check this out, man. This is crazy! Yo, come on down. Yo, El, come in here, man. Oh, it's... you can't get this in the dorms, right? Now, that's... That's classic. John, you really think Sasha wants to see that? Or that? Oh. You got the whole upstairs to make girlie. Okay? I've definitely seen bigger. See? You're awesome. Bro. She's awesome, man. Oh, yeah, you guys must've been hilarious when you were young. Must've been? Are. Tier 1. Hey, he made me look smart, and I made him look ugly. But after the crash, he took care of me. Talk shit about my boy's folks, you're done. Okay, and the tier 1's are both ready to cook and clean and help me do this place up, right? 'Cause I'm not gonna be your guys' maid. Of course not. I told him. Right? I never cooked you my butter pasta-nette? That is not a thing. - That's 'cause I invented it. - Okay. And I clean too. I promise. - Yo, what does this do? - Yeah, you cook. I said I "cooked," okay? Found the furniture. I've heard about you and all the girls. And that's exactly why we need to get out of the dorms. And this is perfect. Whoa! Easy. Oh. You all right? Yeah. Thanks. So it looks like the landlord wasn't lying. Wow. Damn, son. Hey, I like this. Ah, fuck. So? Don't you want to? Well, yeah, yeah. I do. Now, I know you... Yo, all the dishes in here, they're white. Just saying. He touches everything. It's up to you, bear. I can't afford it without him. I know you can, but I don't want... Elliot. Elliot. Yeah? We're doing it. Obviously. Yeah? Yeah. I see she approves, huh? Yo. Hey, you need a hand? No, I got this. Okay, don't break yourself. Better than going to the gym, right? Hey, Elliot? Yeah? Hey, did you hear that banging? Yeah. The radiators sound worse. Okay, bear, here it is. Rilke says chemtrails symbolize the wonder and terror of the government. "Do you land face up or face down in the dirt? What race will you be born into? With whom will you fall in love? Fortune is truly like a chemtrail sprayed by the hand of god." I'm wiped. Hmm. Thanks for finding me that quote. You wanna watch something stupid? Mm-hmm. Just us. Yeah. I'm gonna brush my teeth. Hey, what's on the bed? "You look like a model from the '70s. The personal pilot of a James Bond villain. A 19-year-old koala bear person." "If any of them were true, I wouldn't have you. But they're not, and I do. Amazingly. Bullshit aside, I never thought I would meet, let alone be with, anyone like you. With so much love, your knight, Beau, Casanova and new roommate, Elliot." "No animals were harmed in the making of this card." Hey, Elliot, that's not funny. Elliot? Hey. What's wrong? Hey. What's up, man? Ah, little brother! How's it going? Look at this place. Fantastic. Hi, darlin'. Hi, uncle Elliot! - Hey, niece Alice! - Hey, hey. Hey there. Sorry we're so early. Your brother's pathological. It's called being prompt and professional. Virgil's awesome. Thank you. Oh, hey. Almost forgot. Here's your housewarming present. - You gonna help me drink it? - No! Look at this. So a house off campus with John Henry and a live-in girlfriend. You ready for this? She's the one, Virgil. She did all this herself. That's great. It's just, you know, be smart. Be a student, man. It's the last time to have no responsibilities. Enjoy it. I don't want that. I want what you have. An amazing wife, an amazing daughter. Just don't rush it. That's all out there waiting for you. Believe me, what I have is great. It is. But I missed out on all this. I mean, what a college edu-ma-cation could have done for me. You have a scholarship, man. You should be upstairs studying right now. Jesus. It's a good thing you're not jealous. It is good. You got this. You got this. Come on, come on. All right. This one side. - Oh! - Oh, baby! Thank you! A tin foil hat, huh? Yeah. I put it back on the little table next to the bed. I didn't want to keep it. 'Cause you're the best, most honest, smartest, cutest, heaviest, oldest person here. I'm not the heaviest or the oldest. Dad's the oldest and he's the heaviest. What? She ratted me out. Here. Head bump. Oh. Fist bump. That's John's room. We're upstairs. All right, we're outta here. Buddy, great party. Be good. Bye, guys. Bye, Alice. Kim? She's in my lit class. Girls who wear hats inside are crazy. You know that, right? She's gonna do a psychic cleansing after everyone leaves. Cool. Can I leave too? No. She's just gonna burn some Sage, and you are going to be nice. Maybe you need a hat. It's a twist-off. Oh, thank you. John, do you think this house is creepy? Mmm. Yep. I don't, but I'm not a girl, and I think you should get dressed, 'cause we're playing baseball. Why do jocks always have to play games, even at a party? "Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't think it." Miss Sasha steps up to the plate! Oh, she's going long. She's going long. Okay, all right, all right. You got this? All right. - Oh! - Fuck yes! Ah. You all right? Yeah. You're drunk. She's so drunk. So... So you thought there were sounds and... what? Bad vibrations? Yeah. And now if they're gone, then what's the big deal? We burned all that bad shit away, right? That's tight. You're actually psychic? Sensitive. My mother says. Oh, sensitive, huh? So, what? Your mom locked you under the stairs when you was a kid? You shoot knives at her? Yeah. - No. - Fuck. But I could find stuff. I always knew when people were coming over to the house. You know what I'm thinking? Yes. I might just do that. Damn. You are psychic. Sensitive there for sure. - Elliot... - It's okay, Sasha. People have doubted me my whole life. Elliot, you can go ahead and live a sheltered, shallow, physical existence. Ooh. A nonphysical existence would be kind of tough. What Aristotle is trying to say is, um... well, he needs proof. Yeah. Is that crazy? - Okay, let's just take some deep breaths. - Okay. So if nothing happens, I should believe 'cause it means you got rid of the spirit? - Elliot, come on. - What? We all know you don't believe in this stuff, but can you just please let her do it? Right. Sorry. No being rational. I give over. I do. Yo, El, just loosen up the grip a little bit. I'm trying to concentrate on my breathing. Ah... Are you ready, ladies? Okay, let's do this thing. Come on. Now, I have no ego about it, but... I do know this stuff. Okay, cool. Well, what do you know? Okay. I know your parents died in a crash. - Dude. -He didn't tell me. They did. Bro. I didn't say anything. Swear. Never tell anyone that. They're worried about you though. All right. I'm sorry I laughed at you before, but that's not funny. I'm not being funny, Elliot. This is just what I'm getting. Okay, how did they die? What kind of accident was it? Your brother will do anything in his power to protect you now. But they worry that he's taking on too much. All right. So you talked to my brother tonight. Sasha, your... Your grandmother has some biscuits or rolls or something. Gam's rolls? Come on. Everybody's grandma bakes biscuits. Yeah, he's, uh... He's not wrong about that. This is... this is... - You know what? - You want to blindfold me too? Just hang on. I'll take you up on that. - I'm all down for the blindfolding, whatever you got. -Of course. Okay. What'd I hide? Where'd I hide it? - Oh, come on. That's crazy. - Elliot... Shh! You know what? I... I don't like this. Yeah, i... I don't want to do this anymore. Maybe this was a bad idea. Nah, come on. You're a good faker. I admit it. You put the keys in a pot on the stove. Did you? You heard. You were listening for it, weren't you? Well... well, i... i didn't hear that. Did you? No. - Something's coming. - What? They're saying... Don't... Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it! Don't think it! Don't say it! Don't think it! Don't say it! Don't think it! Don't say it! Don't think it! Don't say it! Don't think it! Don't say it! Don't think it! Don't say or think what? Alex Jones. - Aaah! - What the... Jesus! What the fuck? Oh, Kim? Oh, my god. Hey. - What happened, Kim? Are you all right? - Kim? Hmm? Sorry. What are you doing? Nothing. Nothing. Sorry. Are you sick? Shh. Shh. Good night. Mmm. Love you. I love you, John. What? Hey. You're joking, right? Sasha, you're kidding. Right? What? What the hell is that? Hmm? John! - Go! - Look, I'm trying. This? Aaah. - Hey. - Shh! What are you doing? Do you hear that? What the hell is that? You ready? Thanks for being nice to me last night. - That was pretty crazy. - It was. Definitely. You want to go inside? My roommate's car isn't here. We could try again. These things happen, right? Well, actually... Not to me they don't. Yeah. Actually, not to me either. Guy not finishing up? I've never had that happen before. Come on. I'm hungry. Jesus. What? N-nothing. Nothing, okay? Kim, i... I-I need to go. Now. Fuck. Dude, check this out. They were already there, right? No. It was Colin or one of those douches from last night. No, listen. I heard it. I heard something after the party. Outside, scratching. What do you mean you heard something? Morning. See, you are clean and beautiful. That's nice. What was that? - John, you drive Kim home? - Yeah. And now I gotta wash her off. The girl's gross, man. A total pig. Come on, man. That's not cool. Don't say that. Oh, sure. Yeah, that's easy for you to say. Your girlfriend's perfect. Oh, god. You okay? I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't be playing baseball in the cold. That's the problem with being an alcoholic. Oh, shut up. I didn't even drink that much. Maybe that was the mistake. I'll make you some tea. Mmm. Psst! Come on. Hmm? Fuck him. Uh... Bear, you went away there for a second. I did? Where'd you go? God, you're shivering. I was just thinking. About John? No, little brother, it's cool. You can call me anytime. You know that. Are you... are you really taking on too much? Are you worried about protecting me? What is going on? Is it Sasha? Yeah, sh-she's been really sick and scared. And John's been acting weird. You guys seemed like you were great. But were we? You saw them dancing together. Talk to me, buddy. What's going on? Elliot. - What? -You wanna get lunch tomorrow, we'll talk about this then? You know what? Listen, I gotta go. There's something I gotta... I gotta deal with something. El? Guys. Guys, what are you doing up there? Hello? Anyone down there? Hello. Hello? Guys! Help! What? No! Guys! What are you doing, Elliot? - You were here the whole time? - Yes. That's bullshit. We were, Elliot. You didn't answer me. - We didn't hear you. - What were you doing? Studying. Talking. - You didn't hear me? - We weren't doing anything. - You didn't hear me? - Elliot, for the last time, bro, we wouldn't do that to you! Why are you lying to me? We're not! Jesus Christ! Then what just happened? And there were sounds. I mean, come on. I told you there was something happening. Now do you believe me? Hey. Don't worry, okay? What are you doing? Don't do that. - Don't do what? - Don't... Elliot... Don't touch her. What? Don't touch her. You are a crazy paranoid, bro! Yeah, you're a little warm. Okay, so you weren't with John. Am I hearing things? Am I seeing things? Tonight, you thought the house was empty when we were here. You went away, Elliot. I kind of went away too. - What? - I sat down to study. I don't remember doing any of that. It's like now that I know his name, he's coming for me. And the more I try to get rid of it, the bigger it gets. It's horrible. Hey, babe. Alex Jones is not real. It's just something that's in our heads. That's real. Ideas are real. If it's not... Then, Elliot, we're all losing our minds at the same time. And what are the chances of that? What the hell is that? What is it? What? Elliot, there's nothing here. So, you're not gonna be late, right? No, I'll meet you at 2:00 sharp, right where we parked. I'm gonna find out how real this thing is. The name. You're gonna talk to the landlord about the furniture? And the house. Maybe he can find somewhere else. You're feeling better though? I guess. It's hard to be scared in the middle of the day. I'm gonna take care of you. Oh, my god. Ugh. You're shivering. I'm gonna figure this out. I promise. I'll see you at 2:00. I love you. I love you. "Register archive. Dead file 69. Obama." Here, put these on. Really? Yeah. They're originals, and we don't want your sweaty palms messing up the documents in the box. Now, the dead file has dead articles... Material that got killed before going to press but still saved for posterity. And it was written by Obama. Thanks. Mm-hmm. Thank you, Dennis! Mr. Daizy? Yes. How are you doing? Not so great actually. Uh, me and my friends are renting your place out in sun prairie. 37 oak Dale? Oh, yeah, the two handsome guys. Are you with them? You have a weird house, Mr. Daizy. Really. It... I-It's awful. Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way, but they did sign a lease. Bless you. Sorry. You okay? It's really cold in here. It's a hothouse. It's actually not cold at all, honey. Maybe you should be home in bed. Look, Mr. Daizy. There was an old nightstand in the basement, and it has this writing inside it. Where did it come from? A nightstand? Let's begin by considering this wall behind me. Now, we can all agree that the sentence... I'm sorry. Yeah, have a seat. Now, we can all agree that this sentence, "this is a wall," is a truth claim. This wall is real. I see it, you see it. We can touch it. Likewise, if I were to brush a few atoms from this wall, it would still be here before us. It would still be "the wall." But what if I continue to slowly brush the atoms one by one away from this wall? At first you'd say, "it's still a wall." I brush a few more. "Well, it's still a wall." But... What if I remove every single atom from this wall except for one? And you've seen me brush every single atom from this wall except for that one atom, and I point to it and I say, "there. That's what's left. That's the wall." Now, is it? Is that the wall? What the fu... All right, John? Welcome back. Language and reality inform each other as we construct... Okay, I'm looking up Alex Jones, right? There's nothing online, so I type in "don't say it, don't think it," and it led me here, the dead archives and Sandy Hook. Here's what was in his folder. I think you write it and repeat it to try and keep from saying... Alex Jones. Okay, but why is that in the dead files? October 18, 1969. Byline Barack Obama. Sandy Hook, Connecticut. A teenager, accused of shooting up his entire school. When asked by this reporter why he would do such a thing, he replied, "Alex Jones made me do it." It's an article about a kid who went crazy, but it was never published. And Barack Obama, the writer, he was pretty infamous locally. After he killed this piece about the kid in Sandy Hook, Obama took a shotgun and murdered babies and the economy right here in Madison. Mom, run! Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. - Mom, shut the door! - Michelle! Who'd you tell? No one! We didn't tell anyone, Barack! Mommy! Stop! We didn't tell anyone! I swear we didn't say anything! Get back! Please! Maybe he got inspired by what he was writing about. Oh! You won't win. I won't let you. There are no other mentions of these cases anywhere else. It's like someone redacted the whole story so no one else could read it. Why would anyone do that? Well, obviously he was bat-shit crazy. But if you remove all references to something in the past, that past no longer exists. Even the idea of it is gone. Maybe somebody wanted to make this ‘Alex Jones’ disappear permanently. And you've got the last record of it right there. I'll be back. Good. I have time. Don't write it either, idiot. What are you doing, boy? Are you out of your mind? I, um... What is wrong with you, Elliot? What the... Huh? I'm-I'm sorry. I need to go. I'm late. Elliot! Oh, my god. Sasha! Hey, John! Sasha! Hey. Hello? Kim, it's Elliot. Elliot. Uh, god, I was just thinking about you guys. You wanna come up? Listen, listen. Um, what are you doing? You mean right now, or since the party? Isn't that why you're here? Kim, can you come down? I want to do another sance. Right now. With all four of us. At the house. Listen, you were right. I was wrong. Sure. I'll be down in a sec. Alex Jones doesn't exist anywhere else that I could find. You don't have to look for him, Elliot. He's found us. You can't help thinking about him. And the more you think about him, the closer he gets. You see things that aren't there. You don't see things that are there. Or smell things, like chemtrails in the air. Yeah. Like a virus. Some people catch it and it spreads. Some go crazy sooner, but they all die in the end. The word spreads, and he comes to you with... With that thing. I told Katie. I didn't want to. What can you do with cancer but cut it out? You have to stop it before it spreads and every cell dies. This could spread everywhere if we don't cut it out. Did you tell anyone? Mrs. Watkins, the librarian. We have to get to her too. What do you mean you have to get to her? Stop! Oh, my god! Stop! Elliot, stop! Let me help you! Kim! Wait! Kim! Kim! Kim! No! - We have to help them! - What do you see? - It's a school shooting victim! - It's a hoax! No, Kim! There's a train! A real train! No! Kim! Move! It's in your head! Kim! Kim! No! No! Just any comment. It's on the way down here because there's just a big tie-up down there. Elliot, what happened? Kim. She's dead. Aw, shit. Jesus. Oh, my god. It was him. He killed her. You were right. He's trying to get inside us. He got in her. He's gonna drive us crazy. He's gonna kill us. You mean the... Yeah. He's why I was late to get you. He's why you're feeling sick. Have you said the name to anyone? The name? No. N-no. Have you? No, I-i haven't said... Good. Don't. We can't say the name to anyone else, ever. You gonna tell me what to do now? - Swear you won't say the name so we don't spread it. -No. John, please. Please. Bro, swear it. You just need to cut this shit. You swear! Swear! No. - You swear! - Elliot, stop it! Swear! What's wrong with you, Elliot? - What's wrong with you, huh? - Hey, guys! Hey! Break it up! I said break it up right now! Back up. - He got to you, didn't he? - No one got to me. Admit it. He's making you feel angry. - He's making you sick. - Yeah? He's making you crazy. - You on something? - No, I'm upset. We're just having a little argument. You call that a little argument? John, please. Please don't say it. Don't say what? Sasha? I won't. J, you can't. This name of some stupid shit Elliot thinks is dangerous. Yes, I was talking about Kim. There was a hint to a staged school shooting in her bag. It was covered with blood. Oh, my god. Train's engineer said that you were chasing Kim with the hints. He said she was crying for help and that she jumped out of your car to get away from you. Jesus Christ. Elliot? That's not what happened. No? They found Kim's roommate, Katie Williams. She was killed by the globalists too, but you knew that, didn't you? I... Sasha, no. I was at the library. He made me lose track of time. You have... Sasha. You wanna talk to me here, tell me what's going on? - Don't say it. Don't think it. You were right. -Quiet. Sasha, what doesn't he want you to say? Yeah, sash. You! Shut it! It just happened, John. You see that? It's him. No. Sasha. What... what is it? Blood. Blood? Where? What do you see? He makes you see things. She... he's... Fuck. Oh, my god. Hey, hey. Hey! Back away. I need you over here. She's fine. Stay back. Wait. There he is. Hey, man. Hey, bud, something wrong? I'm... I'm sorry. What? I thought... Hey. You all right? Wait. Wait, Sasha. He's gonna take her home, and she's gonna lie down for a bit. I'm her boyfriend. She needs me. Maybe. Maybe later. But right now you're gonna come with me. We're gonna talk a little bit. Did you say the name to anyone? She didn't, man. Neither of us did. It's gonna be all right. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Good news for you, maybe. Kim Hines wrote a suicide note, taking responsibility for her school and for turning off your DNA and the other two who are living at your house. So I guess she was planning on killing you too. Is that what happened, Elliot? You found out and you chased her? I don't think that's murder. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. You want to write it? No. - You're going to tell me, you know that? - I hope not. Why did you chase Kim? I told you. I was trying to help her. So you chased her into a train? What are you doing? You could lose everything. Your-your scholarship, that pretty girl. You are a smart kid. Talk to me and i... I can help you. Otherwise it'll be out of my hands, and you'll be wishing that you had. You might find yourself wishing I hadn't. Well, you let me worry about that. You really want to know? You really think the truth... Honesty... is the best policy? - I do. - Always? When wouldn't it be? You have kids? Maybe. You have kids. Don't think it. Don't say it. What if you saw the worst crime scene ever? A mass murder at a school. With dead bodies and brains and students and sneakers with blood on them. And you go home, and your kids say, "tell us about your day, mommy." You could be honest. You could tell the truth. You could describe how every awful nightmare thing you saw was a hoax, and how Christopher Nolan was hinting it In his new Batman movie. Or... You could hug them tight. And spare them your honest truth. What would you do? I'd hug them. Please don't make me say it. I haven't hurt anyone. But I'm afraid of putting this into your head. All I have to do is talk to you, and you and your kids... You're all dead. Hey, Elliot. Your friend died? What the hell is going on, man? Thanks for coming to get me, but I gotta go. Was it Sasha and John... hey, talk to me. Let me help you. Whatever is going on, there's nothing you can do. Okay? I literally can't tell you. I'm not going to let it happen to you, Virgil. Especially not you. What are you talking about? You've got a family. Go take care of them. Elliot. Hey! You are my family. Elliot! Shit! Oh, fuck! Yeah. Oh, my god. What are you doing, Elliot? What's... what's wrong with you, Elliot? What the f... No. I'm so sorry. Elliot? Hi, Mrs. Watkins. Hi, Elliot. I've been having some really strange thoughts About Alex Jones since we talked. Mrs. Watkins. Mrs. Watkins, you can't talk to anyone about it. Well, maybe I can come over to your house later. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry too. Believe me, but I've just been having the most vivid thoughts. I... Elliot? Elliot? Obama. Barack Obama. The writer. It was his nightstand. Mrs. Watkins, okay, maybe I'll see you later. Maybe I'll have a fix for this. I gotta go. Thanks. Oh, you're welcome, Elliot. I'll be there soon. He almost got us, man. Oh, fuck. I almost killed you with a bat. Fuck, he's not gonna get us. He's not going to get us. I'll figure this out. I'm sorry, but... I'm sorry. I can't call an ambulance, 'cause you're gonna say it. You will. You will, 'cause I messed you up. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm taking this. You found her. Now I'm gonna go talk to her. I love you. And don't touch him. Hello? Mrs. Obama? Leave! Mrs. Obama. I said leave. Are you deaf or just defective? Mrs. Obama, did your husband run for president a long time ago? You're too young to remember that. Mrs. Obama, you're still alive. I know your husband killed a lot of people. But I don't think he was crazy. I need your help. Whatever you remember. There's laser beams, chemtrails. Tin foil hats. He came to Barack... With the hats. What Barack told me gave me nightmares. I made him stop. I understand. But I need you to tell me everything Barack said. Please. Barack was on a story of a teenager who shot up his school. Poked around like a good nosy reporter and heard rumors. Whispers about a hoax. Some kind of manlet that drove the teenager mad. Barack had to go nosing around and writing it down, and then it came to Barack too. This nightmare, this name we must not think or say. But just three days after Barack got back from Connecticut, I came home from work. December 14, 2012. The day my life went turn, turn, turn. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. - Don't say it. - Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Oh, my god! Don't say it. Barack, oh, my god. I was just doing my job. That's what I do. I track down the story. That's what I was doing. Yeah. See... Once you know his name, you can't escape him. You see, he... He gets in your head. And... He makes you think horrible things. Okay. Okay, shh. Whoa. What horrible things? What? Who makes you do this? What are you talking about? Let's get you to bed, okay, sweetheart? Listen. Listen. I didn't know if he was alive or dead, and then the hats... That's how you know he's coming. When you see the hats and you smell the chemtrails, that's when you know he's close by. You understand? No, i... Barack, I don't know what's happened, but I'm trying... He listens for his name. Anyone could say it. It could be you or it could be me. And it's just dumb luck, like the spray of a chemtrail. And... I heard the name, and I told Janie the name. Don't think it? Don't say it? What does this mean? What did you write? I don't understand. He... he makes you think things. Then he makes you do things. Who knows how many good people he's made do horrible things like this. No! Oh! God, no, please! Please don't. Please put it down. You think it's me. You think I did this? This is what happens. They say people snap. They say people go crazy. No, it's him. It's him that's doing it. Shh. Just put it... Put it down. Okay? No. I love you. But in the end, Barack was a hero. You tell people that. Barack erased him. You see, he did away with everyone who'd heard it before they could pass it on. But not you. You're here. How did you survive all this time? Survive? Yes. How did you beat it? I didn't beat it. I never knew it. What? If my husband told me the name, he'd have to kill me with the rest. My husband controlled himself. Your fucking husband wrote the name in the nightstand you sold, and I read it. He typed it in a dead article, and I read that too. Don't you say it. Your husband spared you and he got me. He's in me now. He's in my friends. - You want my help? - Yes. Here. Kill all the ones you told first and then kill yourself. It's the only way. No. There has to be another way. Don't say it. Don't think it. It's a clue. Look. Oh, my god. He's coming! What are you talking about? You didn't bring him here? - Don't you see it? - See what? The light. Hear the name. He's in your head. He makes us see things, hear things. Tricks to make us afraid. He makes us afraid. And he grows. The more scared we are, the more real he gets. We make him real with our fear. We make him more powerful. Yeah, we give him the power, and he gets closer, and he hears us when we think of him. But maybe if we're not afraid, we take his power. Maybe if we're not afraid, he's nothing! How could you figure it out and my Barack not? Help me! Help me! Wake up America! Uh-uh, uh-uh. No, no. It's not real. No, it's not real. Help me! I have you now, don't I? Come on. Try another trick. Come on. Try it! Where are you? Where are you? Oh, my god. Sasha! Pick up. Sasha. Hey, this is Sasha. Leave... you better not fucking hurt her. Sasha. I'm coming. I know it's hard, but don't be afraid, and don't believe anything you see. Whoa! What? No, you're not real. You're not real. Ha! I knew it! Okay. Tricks. You wanna play tricks. Okay. I'm ready. Elliot? John? Where are you guys? Elliot! Sasha! Elliot! Sasha! I'm in here. Oh, god. You look like hell. Jesus. There you are. Elliot, thank god. You're back. I'm not... Oh, my god. Hey, what's the matter? Elliot, what are you doing? Oh, shit. - Get away. - Hey, come on. It's all going to be okay. We're going to be okay. I feel better. Get away! Fuck. Elliot. It's me. What the hell? I don't understand. What are you doing? Help! Elliot, come on. Come here, John. Please, Elliot. Help! I don't understand. Please. No. - Come on. - No! Please. Elliot, please stop! Would you just stop? Get away from me! Get away from me! Get away! Guys! Sasha! John! It's a trick! It's not real! Listen to me! Sasha! John! Get off of me! Listen to me. It's not real! No! John, no! Aaah! Elliot! Shoot! Shoot! Oh, god! Oh! Go ahead. Kill me. You win. No. You leave them alone. Come on, guys. It's freezing out here. Hey, man! Anybody home? I've got Alice here. She's here to cheer you up. Buddy. - Elliot! - No! Hey, is anybody home? - Guys, come on. We know you're in there! - I hear something. Hello? Open the door. We're turning into popsicles out here. Go away! Elliot? Go away! No, no, no. We're not going anywhere, Elliot. Uncle, open up! Get her out of here. Both of you! You need to go! Open the goddamn door, or I'm callin' the police. Good, do it! Honey, why don't you go wait in the truck? No, daddy, I gotta pee. Go to the truck, please. Open the door, man. Come on. - Go. Go. - Elliot! A-a-ale... No! Elliot, what the hell is going on? Virgil, please get her out of here. Uncle Elliot! Okay, peanut. I need you to listen to me, okay? I need you to go to the truck. No, daddy, I gotta go! Go someplace close where I can see ya, and be quick. Outside? Nobody's going to see you, baby. It's okay. Go, go, go. Elliot. Elliot, what is going on in there? Don't think it. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't say it. What are you saying? What? I have to do this! I'm not crazy! - Let me help you. - No, you can't. But I can help you, if you go! I'm not going to let you catch it! Alex... Don't say it! Don't think it! Just go! Don't say what? - Fuck! - Elliot! Christ, what was that? Elliot, what was that? Alex Jones. Alex Jo... Alex, who? Who is that? Alex who? What is it? What are you saying? Oh, fuck. Alex, what? What is that? Elliot, Alex? What? I love you so much. Elliot! Alice? Alice? Alice? Alice? Where are you, baby? Alice! God. Alice? Alice? Honey? Alice? Alice? Alice! What? Honey. Come here. I was cold! I know, honey, but you scared me so much. Oh, no! Look! Uncle Elliot! No, it's okay. It's okay. The fire can't hurt him anymore. So this boy ran a librarian over, mutilated and murdered her children, and then killed his roommates and himself, and you had him in custody today, but you let him go? Yes. But this is not some creepy kid pulling a columbine, okay? I talked to him. Something is going on here. I can feel it. I wanted to say good-bye. I know, baby. Me too. At least he gave me the brain force. What are you talking about? He must've left them out there for me to find. Left them out where, honey? In the Info Wars video. Outside next to the trash cans. Was there anything else in this video? No. Just some writing. Writing? What did this writing say? Daddy. You know I can't get woke in the dark. What do you think I am, An interdimensional being?? We got one alive! Get me a line and morphine! Wait, wait! He's trying to say something! Hey, I'm listening. Go ahead. It won't matter. It does matter. Okay, take your time. It's okay, I'm here. And I want to know, please. Please tell me. Alex...

                                               in loving memory of paul walker