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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

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Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man.

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off.

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men.

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot.

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried.

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one.

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point.

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day.

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man.

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn.

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering.

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard.

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above.

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you.

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible.

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman.

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath.

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do.

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks.

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?”

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something.

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that.

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’.

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch.

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans.

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even.

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut.

What’s wrong with you today?

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again.

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person.

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark.

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair.

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins.

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close.

“When?” you question.

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement.

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine.

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself.

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half.

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones.

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response.

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings.

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused.

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike.

A man, as usual.

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory.

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will.

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time.

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand.

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually.

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment.

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change.

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all.

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot.

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank.

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again.

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all.

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately.

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth.

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something.

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last.

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed.

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away.

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him.

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around.

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly.

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly.

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes.

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time.

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him.

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl.

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally.

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it.

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding.

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject.

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food.

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat.

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question.

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond.

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought.

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible.

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump.

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one.

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense.

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend.

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe.

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt.

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded.

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help.

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder.

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes.

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips.

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly.

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it.

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building.

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

That night, it rains.

Thunder echoes, with ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands.

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes.

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning.

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it.

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual.

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think. Please protect me. Please do this for me.

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android.

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are.

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you.

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now.

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good.

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor.

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself.

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes.

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea.

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators.

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him.

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy.

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does.

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying.

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead.

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second.

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

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lokilickedme · 3 years

Text

The Way

I’m writing horror again. I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason. And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly. Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note: I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you. But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed. It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case. We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to. There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did. If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us. We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew. Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care. It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE. There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish. As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me. I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

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This is, regrettably, a true story. Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

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They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway. Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption. Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances. We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks. Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well. You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave? The one who died under mysterious circumstances? That one.

He left the way he always came in. Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking. She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998. I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband. He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live. It wasn’t bad. He’d tell you otherwise. The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it. I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times. But now I know. That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back. It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway. This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

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It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of. The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon. My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other. James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him. Perception bias, he said. Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly. We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe. We meant it. He made people nervous. He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know. It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones. We were the smart ones, in retrospect. I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family. But mostly the congregation. It was always more important than anything else. And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking. Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right? The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition. They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home. Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed. God’s not like that. And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it? I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain. A moral code, yes. But isn’t that what God is, really? Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us. But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result. Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned. And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water. The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow. He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest. So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay. I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that. Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself. It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day. The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that. It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further. Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different. What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person. I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then. You were just weird, or you weren’t. And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking. But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to. He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known. And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now. I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult. There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it. My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later. My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though. He took the easy way. He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

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December 22, 1998. Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us. The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work. We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years. The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires. Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making. He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot. Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time. I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother. He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior. The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong. Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult. It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

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My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation. They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise. I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son. I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy. She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather. Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much. He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders. My grandmother couldn’t swim. We could make another Ruthie, he said. But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice. I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy. I was never close to him. But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me. I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life. But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak. I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear. And I felt bad. I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized. My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying. Granddads are supposed to be fun. Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam. And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him. She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on. She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown. That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next. How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand. It affected her. She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it. And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for. He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad. The homestead. The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived. A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives. James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for. She’d wanted us all to stay. We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said. That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be. We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke. It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me. James was dead, had been for years. Robbie was dead now too. Dad was gone, so was granddad. Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them. We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life. And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts. Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land. And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew. The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it. It was just an old grave. The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground. My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it. He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line. It was a cool jacket. Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era. He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door. To this day I can’t sort it. It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness. It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for. It was cold. I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it. And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said. He’s in his house. I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told. He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants. There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do. And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point. He said he didn’t know. He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important. Something tells me it was. Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again. He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow. I’m sorry.

What do we do? I asked him. I’ve never felt more blank. What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother. I remember thinking that was a good idea. Robbie would know what to do. He always did. Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them. He would get on it, whatever needed doing. He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut. I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

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It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it. Someone you saw just yesterday. Someone who was alive. Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow. And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from. The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life. I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him. I never saw him. I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van. I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with. And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that. Some days it helps. And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped. I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

----------

For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill. Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable. We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm. Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office. There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down. And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice. By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

----------

No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose. The end report was obtained two months later. It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue. There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death. His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life. There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery. He was a secretive person, intensely private. He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family. He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep. There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box. He simply hadn’t woken up to use it. Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said. He was melted, literally. It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say. He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me. I’ll go with you if you want to go. But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead. I never saw any proof that he was gone. He just wasn’t there anymore. There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

----------

Dad was different from that day on. He’d always been stoic, terse, strict. My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years. The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him. He was nicer suddenly. Mellow. Kind. After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny. The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before. He and I became friends. I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it. But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again. And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again. He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him? She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished. Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes. I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager. I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well. She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority. She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me. I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down. I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever. It changed me forever. That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either. She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me. It was the first of several disownings over the next few years. I got used to it. We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk. It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

----------

A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together. It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him. The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there. I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric. James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end. The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it. I don’t know why. It was dry.

He was gone.

----------

David and I laughed a lot that day. James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted. And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me. He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him. He was unknowable and therefore unbindable. But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub. I’m not sure what it went to. Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on. There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it. Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before. Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved. David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his. I told him to take it. It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something. One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

----------

My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived. After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge. He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another. There had been several more on the floor around the bed. My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone. Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how. Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with. My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing! We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common. Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation? Dad was the only one that spoke to them. They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that. My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

----------

The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it. Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

----------

The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us. There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway. There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret. In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring. We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death. We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me. James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway. The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

----------

We never felt safe on the hill again. Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession. She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice. We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness. But we knew she was evil. We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right. But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself. She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive. The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife. He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails. He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat. One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death. She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming. She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies. Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come. At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized. She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load. She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

----------

We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house. The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would. She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it. The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to. They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out. I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her. She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently. No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face. It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment. That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are. I can’t do that. I won’t let her win that way. I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name. I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away. My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said. He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered. But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

----------

Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking. He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west. The way we were going. And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

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Erron Black. Arguably a character I don't know much about. Is Erron Black feminist, sexist, or just soft on girls? Now I know MK everyone can fight everyone, but in story mode...

In MK10 Milenna impale his hand with a knife, but he doesn't fight her. I'll except injury for that one.

But then with Cassie Cage later, he fights her, only after she engages him, but once he knocks her down he stops fighting her to fight Kung Jin in the market.

Later on the bridge fight, we do see him fighting Jacqui Briggs, in the background, but she charged him, so she initiated it, and when they focus in he is fighting Kung Jun again.

In MK11, when young Erron Black goes after Jade and Kotal, he let's Jade leave without so much as a glance.

In the Black Dragon fight pit, even though she is right next to him, he ignores Sonya Blade until she actually attacked him. He doesn't even point the other gun at her, he points it up and looks away, until she punches him.

The only time it looks like he initiated a attack on a woman was when Sheeva got shot in her shoulder armor (and shrugged it off), but we immediately see him chasing down Nightwolf, so that looks like a accident. And they only fight after she punches him across the room.

And in the comic's when he kidnapped Cassie and Jacqui he defended them against Kano, telling him not to hurt them, and when he realized they were in serious danger, tried to free them and help escape.

Unless I'm missing something, well he doesn't avoid it, he doesn't fight initiate fights with women.

Before I will talk at length about Erron Black and his attitude toward women I wish only to emphasize this is my subjective opinion and there is no need to agree with me on this. Because no matter how much source material will be brought into discussion, there are many ways to interpret his mindset, especially since A) what Erron says is not always compatible with what he is doing and B) the specific game mechanics that limit and/or adapt his “personality” to the needs of the storyline.

Long text ahead!

Mortal Kombat X’s stated Erron Black was hired by Shang Tsung 150 years ago. So he was born and raised at least the previous century and half, thus his approach to women may be old-fashioned but I wouldn’t say he was somehow deeply concerned per se about gender to begin with. Yes, the mentioned examples suggest otherwise but their context is as important as Erron’s action alone. Because the context of the game will not always work well with in-universe logic. I’m talking here stricte about game mechanics that are built around chapter’s main hero that must win against the opponents and in the mentioned examples Erron was sadly just an obstacle to beat down so it is not like he could headshot Mileena, Sonya or Sheeva or any woman and be done with the problem despite how marksmanship is his forte. Also, the game mechanic in MKX kinda made me joke that Erron shouldn’t be left on his own for too long because his competence in those chapters seemed that bad (from Outworld’s main cast only D’Vorah looked to me as a competent character and she was a traitor, that says a lot about Kotal’s team doesn it?). Anyway, on the basis of the specific nature of the game alone I wouldn’t go so far to judge Erron’s mindset, especially since he was a background/supportive character in MKX and MK11 story modes. So far, Black didn’t have his own chapter - thus the story isn’t told from his POV.

To be honest, games and comics present Erron in different lights, thus his approach to women may vary from one source to another. Because of that let’s firstly look at the sources separately.

In MKX, on Kotal’s voiceless order, Black was going to kill Rain. Mileena attacked Erron by surprise before he could shoot down the rebel but it was Kotal’s chapter so the emperor was the one that dealt with her. Erron was part of the background during chapter 2 without any impact on the story.

Then we have chapter 4 about Kung Jin.

When Cage Team met Erron Black for the first time, the man demanded to know what is Special Forces’ business here including “a reason why we shouldn’t kill you”. Despite the not so friendly welcome, Erron was willing to address Takeda’s remark (“I can read you… You’re not from Outworld.”) and did not resort to violence once Cassie’s explanation did not satisfy him. Looking at the uncertain situation of Outworld, Erron’s lack of trust is understable - Kotal was still at war with Mileena thus in constant danger. Of course, it is up to interpretation, did Erron listen to Jin solely because the prospect of money spoke to him so much or there is some bias (thus the cynical remark about Raiden’s seal and dismissive attitude) against Cassie, the woman in charge. I personally tend to think Erron was simply cautious because the last Earthrealm that got close to Kotal tried to kill the emperor. And yeah, Kano is nothing like Cassie, Jacqui, Takeda or Jin but there was no way for Black to know that for sure, especially since Outworld and Earthrealm weren’t really at the best terms at that time and Raiden’s name did not foreshadow anything good.

The next sequences may be interpreted as Erron being soft on women but I’m gonna present here different possibilities:

Once Jin went ahead to disrupt the execution, Erron’s first reaction was to shoot him yet Black took aim instead of shooting blindly without care for the crowd (or at least the slow down of his action is how it looked to me). Because he was focused on Jin - the main culprit whose action caused unwanted riot, Cassie easily stopped the attack. Should Erron be more focused on the female soldier at his side? Most likely, but all of this happened in mere seconds so I can understand why stopping Jin acting on his own accord was priority to the mercenary since it was related to his job and he was the one that agreed to take Earthrealmians to Kotal. Which may be the reason why Black just knocked down Cassie and immediately ran after Jin. And mind you, Erron knocked down Cassie by hitting her on the head with the butt of the pistol, which is not a gentle way by no means.

The chapter 6 is focused on Takeda and partially on Cage Team’s run from captivity. The Earthrealmians were important hostages, even if falsely accused of working with D’Vorah. So it makes sense that “Outworld Champions” weren’t trying to kill them. Otherwise Kung Jin would be shot down for good yet Erron kept him just at gunpoint. Once again, the game mechanics don’t make much sense considering how Jin stayed behind as air support but somehow ended up on the bridge while Jacqui disappeared somewhere in the background. Also, the same as with Cassie in Chapter 4, Erron did not kill defeated opponents nor tortured / injured for fun (Rain is a different matter because Erron went for killing only after Kotal’s voiceless order to finish the traitor).

In Chapter 11, Erron is even more degraded into a support role and he did not attack nor take part of the skirmish in the forest until Jacqui beat down Kotal. Personally I suspect he could be (in universe) too injured for hand to hand combat but once Team Cage was surrounded and Kotal gave the order for execution, Erron was aiming at Jacqui and if Sub-Zero did not show up, Black most likely would shoot to kill.

(Also, he did not shoot any enemy from a distance, so the women and men were treated the same although if this is a matter of game mechanics or Erron’s own moral code, hard to tell. Black recognized himself more as Outworlder than anything else so he may actually follow the common there idea of one on one fight.)

So, MKX story mode alone does not tell us much about Erron’s mindset about women because he has never been the one starting fights in the first place. This kinda makes sense since he is a mercenary and kills or injures only those who Kotal wishes to see dead or punished. Besides that he didn’t injure / kill Cassie when he had a chance but he didn't do so with Jin either. MKX!Erron gives the impression of a collected, detached type of person who is far from macho stereotypes or psychopath/sociopath like Kano.

Thankfully there is additional information like dialogue intros and Erron’s ending (from what we learned about Erron's approximate age) that aren’t canon per se but at least give some insight into his psyche.

The best counter argument for eventual Black’s habit of going easy on women is his own ending in which he ambushed and killed Cassie, Jacqui, Takeda and Jin (this situation was repeated in Briggs’ ending except this time Cage Team was saved by Jax). This is a rare moment in which Erron was the attacker and on his own initiated the violence toward others. In this case, he attacked women and men alike.

Then we have intro dialogues in which Erron usually deals with people in a professional manner, some even sometimes addressing in a polite way. Like “Mr. Kung” to Lao, “Mr. Hasashi” to Scorpion and “Mr. Takahashi” to Takeda. Surprisingly, he addresses Cassie and Sonya by their military rank (Sergeant Cage and General Blade respectively) which suggests that whatever Erron learned a century or two ago about gender-related social norms most likely evolved accordingly to his own life experiences, especially those gained in Outworld.

At the same time, it seems some of outfashioned - harmful - convictions are still enough deeply rooted in him to say stuff like that:

Kenshi: The friendless wanderer.

Erron Black: Least I don't take orders from a woman.

Kenshi: Which century are you from?

Which is kinda ironic since Kenshi takes orders from Sonya whom Erron addresses by high military rank without any snide comment about a woman in the army. But as far as I managed to check the intros, this is the only(?) one outright sexist thing Erron said to anyone and surprisingly, he didn’t say that to any woman, just to Kenshi. Frankly, if the idea of taking orders from women was so offensive, why would Erron bother to call Mileena the Crownless Queen or Kitana the Fallen Princess, if both titles by itself imply facing women that are used to give commands or even hire people like him? Once again, there is little to no sexist attitude toward women in context of their power over other men. Which suggests that whatever prejudices Black may have, he does not allow them to affect his interaction with other characters. Usually, at least.

Okay, the insult toward Kenshi could be some of Erron’s deep-seated sexist beliefs adding to the reason why he didn’t support Mileena in the fight for the throne. Yet, at the same time, if that was the case, he could outright say he doesn’t agree to be bossed by a woman to her (or he could be accused of that by her or any character really). Of course, it could be something similar to Black’s claim to care only about money with MK11 strongly hints he is saying one thing and doing differently but I will come back to this topic in a moment.

Another argument against this insult: Erron was one of the characters that did not mock Mileena’s look, origin or called her crazy. If he really thought listening to women's orders was so bad, then he didn’t show that when interacting with her or other female characters.

At the same time, like many other male characters, Black is not immune to the beauty of women around him and some of his comments sounds disrespectful and are unwelcome by the ladies:

Sonya: The gunslinger.

Erron Black: I could take you away from all this.

Sonya: I must be a jerk-magnet.

→ Sonya is not amused by Erron’s words at all.

Erron Black: Hello, beautiful.

Jacqui: Messin' with the wrong girl.

Erron Black: But it feels so right.

Jacqui is like the only one woman described by MKX!Erron as the beautiful one, the other he usually referred to along the lines of hot / sexy. Yet once Jacqui outright warned him to not mess with her, Erron deliberately ignored her because it amuse him. Whatever it is a sign of an old-fashioned mindset (a remnant of the times he grew up) or just simply (male’s) egoism on his part, Erron likes to flirt with women but he does not always respect their opinion or wish to be left alone.

At the same time, Erron rarely tried to change women’s minds about him or their eventual relationship. So far, only the intro dialogue with Kitana seems to be the exception:

Kitana: Stop!

Erron Black: We've barely begun, my lovely.

Kitana: It will end quickly.

Black may put his own amusement above other people's personal comfort, yes, but didn’t act creepy like Kano did, especially toward Blade-Briggs-Cage family as a whole.

So we have this

Jacqui: I really don't like you.

Erron Black: I really don't care.

Jacqui: As long as we're straight on that.

in which Erron doesn’t care for Jacqui’s dislike of his person but doesn’t impose himself on her. He does not resort to the common rapist “excuse” that woman says no but her body says otherwise, like Kano did (“Your mouth says Kano, but your eyes say Kan-yes.”) and this contrast puts Black in a more positive light. Similar thing happened in the intro dialogue toward Tanya.

Erron Black: My friend, Tanya.

Tanya: We are not friends, bounty hunter.

Erron Black: Have it your way...

Again, whether trying to be friendly or ironic, once Erron was “turned down”, he simply accepted the situation without any additional crude remarks.

Interestingly, interaction with Sonya showed that Black was capable of rethinking his statement about hot/sexy women:

Erron Black: Girls with guns? Always hot.

Sonya: I'll shove 'em up your ass and fire.

Erron Black: Almost always hot.

Those examples suggest Erron may treat women differently, depending on their “fighting experiences”, age and origin and maybe even how sexually / aesthetically appealing they are to him. For example, veteran Sonya’s threat was taken seriously while (novice / new generation) Jacqui’s warning was ignored. At the same time, the intro dialogues didn’t hint at any romantic or sexual interest in Ferra (a young female symbiote) nor D’Vorah (Kytinn) and relatively good looking Mileena who deserves a separate paragraph.

To be honest, Erron, Johnny and Kano are like the main three men openly showing their (sexual?) interest in women around them. Understable, Black’s flirting / comments rarely were appreciated yet he still was less creepy or aggressive towards others than Kano. Erron didn’t bother to hide his eventual (sexual) interest in beautiful women but it can’t be said A) he had no control over his sexual drive and B) has rapist / sexual predator tendencies.

Another interesting thing: with few exceptions like Kano or Quan Chi, Erron threatened people with violence usually after they offended him and most of the time maintained professional neutrality toward his rivals. In that regard, Erron treated other characters the same regardless of their gender.

This is something worth keeping in mind how Black, as mercenary, in general is not the initiator of violence. Unless someone will pay him. For money, Erron would attack (kill) anyone, including women (to Tanya, “The Kahn wants your head.” + Erron’s Epilogue).

The last detail to talk about: one of the intro dialogue with Cassie suggests Erron thought she was an easy opponent.

Cassie: Is something funny?

Erron Black: I'll win this easy.

Cassie: You're going down hard.

but to be fair, he thought the same about Sub-Zero

Erron Black: You're an easy target.

Sub-Zero: As are you.

Erron Black: Bullets beat snowballs any day.

so I wouldn’t say it was the bias toward Cassie because of her gender and just Erron’s own arrogance (and maybe lack of good judgement on his part).

In summary, MKX!Erron in game alone tends to act in a professional manner. He had an occasion to shoot defeated opponents but did not seize the opportunity against not only Cassie but Jin as well. During the storyline he was rather collected, emotionless. In intro dialogues he openly expresses his interest in tough, relatively attractive women yet the banter is far from the creeping tone of Kano’s interaction with female characters.

Then we have Mortal Kombat 11 in which past and future timelines are messed up. Sadly, Erron’s characterization departs from the neutral-polite one seen in the previous game. Of course, this could be blamed on the younger version of Erron, but frankly, twenty years for someone living at least for a century and half shouldn’t make that big difference in behaviour and well, MK11 outright claims Erron is prone to violence for violence’s sake instead of just money. Which is one of many plot-holes and divergences between both games I guess.

Anyway, Erron, again, was the background character to beat down, so it is worth remembering that he couldn’t permanently hurt or kill anyone from the main cast. In chapter 2 he let Jade get away when he was facing Kotal and frankly, there is little explanation for that in-universe wise. I personally suspect it may be related to Erron’s own sense of honor, as in respecting one on one fight without cheap moves like shooting someone’s beloved person. Not practical in the mercenary job but it is possible for someone born and raised around two centuries ago. Also, Shao Kahn’s anger was focused mainly on killing Kotal for taking the throne. Because of that Erron could be not interested in Jade who simply did not have any significant political matter at that time. Sadly, it is really hard to say for sure what was on his mind.

In chapter 6, past!Erron stormed the Special Forces Base alongside Black Dragon members. There were women in that group but sadly, Black did not interact with anyone beside Johnny Cage. We can at least assume, Black did not mind fighting side by side with women.

Similary, present!Erron in chapter 7 showed up in the background during the alliance attack on Coliseum. The attack was led by Kitana (albeit did Erron join her to save Kotal out of loyalty or for money, it was not explained) and there were female fighters in the group. It seems then Erron does not mind fighting side to side with women.

During the pit fight (chapter 8), past!Erron faced the past!Sonya and the past!Johnny. Frankly, the same as in the previous chapter, game mechanics make little sense because there was no real reason for Erron to open the ring and face the characters when he could simply shoot down both from a safe distance. This really undermines the whole point of Black being a gunslinger, isn’t it?

Anyway, Cage took the forward position (which I think is both because despite his injuries he tried to shield Sonya AND because he actually met Erron during an attack on a Special Forces’ base) and got shot in the arm. After a short skirmish, Erron knocked down Johnny and aimed to kill the injured man.

The most logical thing for Erron in this situation would be to shoot down Sonya first and then finish already beaten down and exhausted Johnny. In defense of the Black though it is worth emphasizing that he didn’t completely ignore Blade nor turned away from her.

Most likely the weird slow-down action of aiming at Johnny was a moment of distraction that Sonya simply used to attack. Similar to MKX, game mechanics do not allow Black to headshot the main heroes, even though, in-universe, he should do just that and be done with the job. There is also a possibility that past and present Kano still wanted to keep Sonya alive for their own amusment (torture and sadly most likely rape) what could explain why Erron didn’t shot her from safe distance. I mean, the game alone did not voice what Kanos really ordered Erron to do.

I know that MK games like to slow down action for dramatic effects, but I strongly believe it was actually a matter of a few seconds of distraction (Erron looking aside to shoot Johnny and aiming) that Sonya took advantage of rather Black ignoring her on purpose. Even more since Black did not hesitate to shoot at her and seemed to enjoy facing “the legendary” Sonya Blade.

The same as MKX, Mortal Kombat 11 does not explain Black’s mindset. He does not shoot Jade or Sonya when he has a chance but he does not make any rude remarks toward women in general. However the intro dialogues shed a light on the complicated relationship that Erron has with women.

From what we learn about Erron, his childhood was far from normal or safe. We don’t know details, but what he shared with Cetrion and Cassie strongly suggest that Erron’s both parents were abusive people:

Cetrion: You shot your own father, Erron Black.

Erron: Sonofabitch had it coming.

Cetrion: Honor thy parents, mortal!

Erron: My Ma would’ve loved you, Cassie Cage.

Cassie: Aw, sounds like you miss her bunches.

Erron: I hated Ma.

Erron: I grew up around tough women.

Cassie: Didn’t they teach you respect?

Erron: They taught me to hit back.

The last statement suggests young Erron was abused by women (most likely including his own mother) to the point he is now willing to hit back anyone regardless of their gender without remorse. Erron himself says “I ain't above shootin' a lady” (intro dialogue vs. Sonya).

Beside that, an abusive mother alone could influence Black’s approach to women - and most likely she did, since he admitted to hate her. Surprisingly, Erron uses the past tense (“I hated Ma”) so there is a chance he gained distance over time in that matter. It also seems like whatever he feels about mother usually doesn't affect his relationship with other female characters. For example, in the mentioned banter he did not insult Cassie for reminding him about the abusive parent. Despite the bad childhood intro dialogues hint Black actually likes dangerous women.

Erron Black: I stepped out with Nitara before you.

Skarlet: You clearly have a type, Erron.

Erron Black: Just like living dangerously.

Like in the previous game, Erron openly shows his (sexual) interest in various women. The interesting change however is how:

His interest extends now to more alien-looking female characters like Nitara or Sheeva. Surprisingly, Mileena’s advances are still rejected. Also, Erron has like zero respect for the goddess Cetrion but to be honest, he does not respect any god.

Erron is more disrespecting by using nicknames like Legs or Baby Doll for Sonya or Sugar for Cassie. Of course, it may be just the “charm” of younger Black - hard to tell in most cases which version is speaking - but it creates an overall feeling of ironic, at times irritating or insulting approach to female fighters. At the same time, there are women that Erron refers to in a rather consistently respectful manner - Jacqui (Miss Briggs, Little Lady), Jade (ma’am, missy), Kitana (Princess, Kahn).

Before I will focus on the complex situation with Mileena, I need to talk about Erron’s important trait: he often says one thing but does the opposite. This is especially noticeable in intro dialogues concerning money and loyalty. Both games agree the main motivation for Black is a good payment, albeit MK11 highline also the thrill of danger. Anyway, Erron admitted he is willing to betray Kotal, a current employer, if someone offered a better deal (“Until a better offer comes along.”, “There's always a better offer, Kotal”). This strengthens the impression Black cares only about himself yet he rejects all propositions coming from Kotal’s enemies such as Shao Kahn, Rain or Mileena, Quan Chi, Shinnok and Kano/Black Dragons. At the same, he is willing to work with/ for Kitana who happens to be the best friend of Jade, Kotal’s beloved. Which makes Erron still operate in a group wishing no harm to the ex-emperor.

I’m bringing this into discussion because there is strong possibility that under the tough guy act, Erron still follows some “old-fashioned” sense of morality and is decent enough to not attack or harm women (and in my opinion, people in general) unless A) it is part of the job or B) is self-defense. Which could explain why he let Jade walk away or why he didn’t shoot Sonya from a safe distance but faced her in hand to hand combat. Depending how long he lived in Outworld, he could simply adapt into local customs - the people of Outworld are a combat-focused society and because of that have a strong sense of honor code. Erron’s eventual softness toward female fighters would get him in serious problems and I doubt he could afford such weakness when serving Shang Tsung or Shao Kahn.

So, why did Erron not want to serve Mileena, the designated successor? As the Empress, she was in position to offer the best (materially wise at least) deal after all.

In MKX!banter Erron claims Kotal paid him better:

Mileena: You aided the usurper.

Erron Black: He offered more coins.

Mileena: ...and no protection.

Meanwhile, MK11!Black outright says it was not a matter of money but of Mileena’s behaviour. Considering how prone to violence she was, it is no wonder why Erron decided to work for someone else.

Erron Black: Now what's got you all rip-snorting mad?

Mileena: When I gained the throne, you abandoned it.

Erron Black: Wasn't no pay worth dealing with your crazy.

This brings me back to the MKX’s banter suggesting Erron may dislike being bossed by women. Considering the implication he is currently negotiating a proper deal with Kitana Kahn (“New Kahn, same deal?”), the problem is more complex than judging someone by gender alone. I mean, Erron worked for Shao Kahn who himself was a cruel tyrant so sadism shouldn't be anything new for Black, right? Except, he was hired by Shang Tsung and because of that I think it is highly possible Erron had just indirect contact with the Emperor. Thus Erron could be not ready for Mileena’s unstable nature(?) and cruelty.

I mean - Erron comes from a pathological family and grew up around tough women. In his opinion Cassie has some traits or behaves in a way for which his mother would’ve liked the girl. So there are certain things that Black connects to hated mother. Now, Cassie is more of an extrovert type of person, showy and with sharp ripostes but she is one of the good guys and cruelty for fun is not her thing. So, if someone like Cassie can somehow make him think of a hated parent (that most likely is dead for decades now), how much Mileena could trigger Erron in the wrong way? To the point he chooses his mental health over money and/or thrill of danger?

If this is true, we may further wonder if bad experiences with tough women in childhood are the reason why despite flirtatious nature, Erron’s interest in female fighters usually is strictly sexual attraction? Because it really looks like he does not try to emotionally connect with women. Even his “thing” with Skarlet seems to be more a matter of thrill than a serious relationship, considering how Erron was okay with her eventual death.

(The possibility of Erron being freaked out by Mileena also rises an interesting question about her mental state between MK9 and MKX)

This is why I think Erron did not have a problem with working for women as long as they did not remind him too much of past abuse. And this is pretty nice implication, considering how tough guy Erron is for most of the time.

Because of that, Kotal questioning if Erron is jealous of Jade could be read in different way too:

Erron Black: So, you and Jade, huh?

Kotal Kahn: Jealous, Erron Black?

Erron Black: She's quite the looker, Kotal.

And yeah, Erron brings this to the matter of appearance alone, but hopeful as I proved earlier, Erron sometimes says one thing but does (thinks) something totally different. Because of that I suspect he may not be really jealous of Kotal for having a sexy lady but actually of the relationship itself. You know, build on respect and love than just build on sexual drive.

Like I said before, the game cutscenes and character banters may be interpreted in many ways but for me MK11!Erron Black - at least the older version - seems to mask his trauma and/or complex nature of his relationship with women under the act of tough guys. At the same time, there is a high possibility he still follows an out-fashioned sense of honor and though he is not above shooting women, he does not attack them unless it is demanded. Though to be fair, in my opinion this is how he approaches everyone. A mercenary’s mindset that distinguishes him from the likes of Kano.

In Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermatch, Erron met Sheeva, when the Shokan Queen in the company of Fujin, Nightwolf and Shang Tsung carried a coffin to the Soul Chamber. Black and Baraka decided to confront the Shokan woman and it quickly turned into a fight (and the typical game mechanics).

There is a question though - did Erron really take Kitana's offer or did he stay with Kotal? Because it’s really suspicious that he happened in the place where defenless, injured Kotal was in the healing process. Anyway, whatever the case, Black directly or indirectly worked for the new Kahn so it is highly possible his actions were dictated by Kitana’s best interest rather than his liking or disliking anyone.

Let’s just look at the situation - Kitana is the empress but she promised to treat her allies as her equals. That means Sheeva, as well respected Shokan Queen, plays an important role in the new regime - killing her or permanently injuring was out question, otherwise Shokan people could rebel against Kitana and in result the freshly established peace would go straight to hell.

In my opinion, this is why Erron asked Sheeva’s group to go with them quietly so the situation could be explained to Kitana without unnecessary violence. Black actually was okay with Sheeva go to Soul Chamber as long as Shang Tsung (Shao Kahn’s sorcerer) and the suspicious coffin was returned to him. Thanks to Shang Tsung, one of Tarkatan warrior died and thus the situation got out of hand. It makes sense Erron was more focused on Shang Tsung (hated by Kitana), Nightwolf (whose current self is revenant) and Fujin than on Sheeva who, potentially, was protected by political immunity.

When the Shokan Queen beat down Baraka, Erron in my opinion did not try to hurt her, only fired a warning shot. Maybe to make sure Sheeva will not kill Baraka (another important leader whose support Kitana needed to uphold the peace in Outworld). The Earthrealmers on other hand were another matter. Maybe Erron was too trusting or too reckless to not pay more attention to Sheeva or simply didn’t really think she was the traitor. It was after learning she is trying to resurrect Kitana’s evil mom - a dangerous, not consulted with Empress decision - Erron faced Sheeva in hand to hand combat.

Not much to analyse here, especially not with limitations of game mechanics yet I strongly believe Erron’s course of action was dictated by political situation and Kitana Kahn’s best interest so killing or seriously injuring Sheeva could be out of question. Also, like I said previously, Black is rarely the aggressor, what I believe is related to his mercenary’s mindset.

The last source, Mortal Kombat X comics series, requires a little clarification: I treat it as a potentially additional insight into Erron’s psyche than any real canonical material. Partially due to many plot-holes but also because of overwhelming violence used for violence’s sake alone. That said, here what happens:

Earthrealm (Special Forces) and Outworld (Kotal Kahn) weren’t on the best terms. To help Kotal, Erron and Black Dragons kidnapped young (under 21 years old) Cassie and Jacqui and took them to Outworld. During the journey through the dangerous jungle, girls tried to run away but got hurt in the process by Kano. Erron openly talked against brutal treatment of prisoners.

Looking at the difficult situation of Kotal, it was in Erron’s best interest to keep Cassie and Jacqui in one piece. Otherwise the whole plan would fail and then Kotal would be forced to deal with really pissed off Sonya Blade. And that would take a bad turn for Black himself. But like I said earlier, the tough guy act could also cover Erron’s more empathic nature that in the mercenary world was seen as a weakness to exploit. I personally think he did not like torturing people if that was unnecessary but also that he would have spoken against it even if Cassie and Jaquie were boys.

Then the Red Dragons attacked to take over hostages.

(Once again, a tough guy act with the “girls are Kotal’s property” as in cover up his worries about the situation or his true mindset, or mix?)

When the fight started, Erron went to tied hostages:

One one hand, Erron needs the girl to stay alive and not be taken by the enemy. On the other hand, he does not promise them safety nor ask them to run away. He is freeing them so the two girl (both under 21 years old) will fight against experienced criminals armed with swords and other dangerous stuff. This is actually an interesting detail, because it suggests Erron thought Cassie and Jacqui had a chance against thugs or that at least that way they wouldn't be a burden to him.

Jacqui punched him and Erron, either was taken by surprise or did not want to hurt her, was “saved” by Kano. And then betrayed by the Black Dragon leader.

Kano’s worlds raise a question, how much Erron is driven by the money and how much he uses the tough guy act to actually hide his unwanted “vulnerability” (as in, having moral sense and not being the heartless psychopath like Kano).

My general conclusion about Erron is that, for a side character he has a really complex relationship with women around him. I strongly believe that Erron sticks to some old fashioned sense of honor that mixes well with a mercenary's mindset. Thus rarely he is the one attacking first. This most likely influences his interaction with female fighters but at the same time, Outworld is not a place where people are judged by gender but for their skills and powers. So, Erron living there for decades for sure got influenced by that mindset to some degree.

I would not call him a feminist - not because he couldn’t be one but for lack of proper material to analyse. Feminism has many shades but in the most general sense is about establishing the political, economic, personal, and social equality of the sexes. Erron does not show much opinion on that matter and does not interact with “common” women; those truly weaker than him, disabled or anything else other than warriors, soldiers or queens. With lack of such interaction there is no chance to come to a proper conclusion.

Does Erron have a soft spot for women? It is possible but that would not stop him from hitting back or killing them if the situation called for such action. I think the safest option is just that Erron is in general a more emphatic and honorable human that he wants to admit, to not look weak or be exploited by others. In contrast to Kano, Black for sure has some moral code he follows no matter what. Even if this get him into trouble more often than not.

Hope it answers your question!

#mortal kombat #erron black #my replies #my analysis #erron is like a turtle hard on outside soft(er) inside i guess #sorry it took me so long to write there was many stuff to talk about #hope it helps!

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

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Stranger things is about mental health & trauma- deal with it!

I’ve seen a lot of people claim anyone who mentioned this topic immediately be gaslit and told they’re “just crazy” and “rudely projecting their own issues on to the characters.’ Like- no you don’t have to believe my Will DID/Lonnie theory ( I could be wrong). But to claim one of the show’s central themes isn’t about mental health/trauma (screams either complete lack of lit comprehension or denial cause you have your own negative biases towards such people). So let’s just go into what’s literal text-not subtext/symbolism. Just the super blatant stuff. RIGHT IN THE SHOW!

-We have El when she first appears on screen asked by Benny if her parents starved and hurt her and if that’s why she ran away. Benny then calls CPS to say El “may have been ab*sed or something.” After this Lucas says there is “seriously something wrong with her-wrong in the head. She’s probably from the NUT-HOUSE in curly county.penthurst” We also see El cannonically has PTSD-all of s1 she’ll see something benign (a cat, a coke commercial, a closet) and is triggered to see a traumatic flashback. That’s literally ptsd. There’s also hints throughout the seasons she’s developmentally behind in both language, telling time etc (neglect like El’s irl can cause an intellectual disability-analysis on El/that subject here).The real pethurst in pensylvannia (not the one in stranger things/ Curly county) closed in 1986- it was a facility for people and mostly kids with intellectual disabilities (it wasn’t technically a psych facility like the one in st)-but it was infamous for it’s abuse of these intellectually disabled patients kept there. We also have Brenner be a ab*sive psychiatrist.

- Hopper after suffering from the loss of his daughter. Is popping pills like candy, drinking and smoking constantly. He later says he used to hallucinate and forgot what was real -seeing and hearing sarah and says if he didn’t confront the pain he’d “fall down a black hole he couldn’t get out of.” NO... subtext here about what the void represents nope.

- Both mothers (Terry & Joyce) are dismissed as being mentally ill and simply grieving the loss of their kids . But both end up being right about the supernatural.

- “Terry pretends Jane is real. i mean it’s all make believe. you know the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism.”

- While with Joyce the whole town pre s1 already questioned her mental health. Jonathan says “She used to have anxiety problems (pre s1).” And Jonathan, Hopper, and Lonnie all assume she’s hallucinating: talking to Will via lights, seeing a man without a face, saying Will’s body is fake -due to grief. Plus Lonnie mentions the fact Joyce’s aunt Darlene also used to hallucinate as a possible reason (terry’s aunt also had mental health issues mentioned in s2 by Becky). Lonnie even says everything Joyce is seeing is “all in her head.” Hopper and Jon both say she needs to sleep and accept reality and Lonnie says she needs to see a “shrink”. Hopper “i’m not saying that you’re crazy”. Joyce : “no, you are.” Joyce also says to Lonnie “Stop looking at me like that... like everyone else like i’m out of my damn mind.” Hopper also says about Joyce she’s “on the edge”. Callahan says in response , “she’s been on the edge for a while now” (referring to her mental health- even before Will’s dissappearance)”. While Lonnie says Jonathan is “feeding into her hallucinations ... you’re going to push her right over the edge.” In s2 Hopper says “ I think everyone is on edge- you, me, Will most of all. (when talking about Will’s ptsd/trauma)”

- in s1 They claim Will just “fell” over the edge of the quarry’s cliff. Later the only other queer coded character (Mike) jumps off the quarry cliff (where Will’s body was found) cause the homophobic troy forced him too jump. Troy even says earlier dead-Will is “flying with all the other fairies all happy and gay” (to Mike). And Troy says to Hopper El made Mike “fly” after jumping off the cliff. Friendship saved him from jumping off the edge metaphorically ( and he’ll prob eventually be happy and gay too).

s2/3

-Will is seeing a therapist . And we are told he has ptsd and will experience the anniversary effect, personality changes,nightmares, having episodes, etc. And things “will get worse before they get better”. Mike also asks if what Will is seeing is “real or like the doctors say all in your head?” And Will continues to see hallucinations of the mf/upsidedown that only he can see initially.

-Hopper also agrees with owens mentioning how he knew guys with ptsd . joyce : “it’s not like he’s describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they’re real.” Hopper: “Yeah, because they’re not nightmares they’re flashbacks.I think he’s right about trauma.I think everyone is on edge (bringing that s1 ref back), Me you, Will, most of all.Nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. But it’ll get better.In time.”

-Nancy suffers from survivor’s guilt and drunkingly says she killed Barb. Jonathan says like Nancy he has “a weight that you that carry all the time . i feel it too.” (cough depression). He also says he tries to be there for Will but says about Will “he’s not the same. maybe things can’t go back to the way they were. (mirroring Hopper’s words earlier that season)”

-Jonathan said in s1 Joyce had “anxiety issues” than Nancy says in s3 “you really are your mother’s son... you worry too much.” Then we see him look worried after the comment.

- in s2, Axel & a scientist both call El and Will “schizos” because of their powers. In s3 mrs driscoll isn’t believed about the supernatural cause she’s schizophrenic-but like Joyce/Terry was right.

- Kali saves a woman named Dottie (a british slang term for crazy) from a mental hospital and then compares herself and El to dottie. saying her non-powered gang is “Like us ...outsiders... society discarded them.” In graphitti we even see the title “obedlam” a british poem about discarding the mentally ill and leaving them homeless. El before this sees a mentally ill man screaming “we’re all dead!” Kali’s friend says to El, after this encounter they were “dead all of us” until kali “saved them here” (points to head) “and here” (points to heart). Pointing to the theme of love and friendship helping those with such issues. Similar to the cliff analogy.

-The cycle of ab*se. Max in s2 says she’s afraid of becoming like Billy (her ab*ser). We see Billy mimic his ab*ser neil and inflict pain on max. In s3 we see the roots of his behavior are linked to mimicking Neil- Neil in a flashback says about baseball “what are you scared?” “ did i raise a p*ssy for a son”. So young Billy later in a fight says to a boy “ what are you scared to fight me? fight me p*ssy. (as he beats the boy)” Deflecting his anger of his father on to someone else. In s3, We see as a kid he used to say to Neil “don’t hurt her” (his mom)-specifically after Neil backhand slaps her -but we later see possessed Billy backhand slap Max (just like neil). The resentment to his mother leaving - festered into how he views women and max negatively . And his attraction to mrs wheeler prob is linked to him subconsciously missing his mother. Max in s2 even says he can’t take it out on her mother so he does so to her instead (we even have Billy hallucinate hurting mrs wheeler).We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. Billy harrasses Max and yells “SAY IT!” (mimicking Neil). Max like Billy later yells “SAY IT” and uses a bat /violence to stand up for herself against Billy- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’). Billy’s last dying words were an apology to Max- for becoming her neil. And we hopefully will see Max break this cycle.

- Will says his now memories (that he describes like dreams) are “growing “, “spreading “,and “killing”. While Kali says they need to face their father and (as Brenner) says El has to confront her “wound” or else it’ll “grow”, “spread” and “eventually it’ll kill her.” Kali says she used to be like El . She used to bottle her pain away and it “spread.” But she then says “I confronted my pain and I finally began to heal (from those wounds).” We also see with jonathan and nancy when describing “shared trauma” zoom in onto the scars on their hands. The wound heeled into a scar so to speak.

S2 & 3 ENDINGS

both have Hopper do a speech that delves into dealing with trauma/depression but still finding good along the way.

-s2 Hopper outside the snowball: “how are you holding up? Yeah, that feeling never goes away. It is true what they say, you know. Everyday it does get easier.”

-s3 Hopper monolouge : “ Feelings jesus. For so long, i’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place,in a cave you might say , a deep dark cave (cough s2 supernatural cave). For the first time in a long time, i started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. Life... yeah sometimes it’s painful .sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s suprising... happy.. And when life hurts you, because it will .remember the hurt . The hurt is good. It means you’re out of that cave.”

BUT YES- St has nothing to do with mental health/trauma, we’re just “crazy” and “projecting”. It’s not like some of ya’ll act pompous when you just have a bias and get pissy at the idea of relating to characters you “other” as “crazy” or “damaged” irl or anything (so attack people for pointing it out). Or (benefit of the doubt) you are just like.... oblivious... or just a kid who doesn’t know better XD

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #kali prasad #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

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seattlesea · 3 years

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✨My (maybe) Unpopular Heroes of Olympus Opinions✨

(maybe part one??? idk)

-I don’t really ship any of the main canon ships in HoO. None of them had any chemistry and most of them are either pedophilic, forced and rushed, or toxic in some way

-Most of the characters that were shoved into relationships (Leo, Nico, and Hazel especially) really did not need a love interest to complete their character arcs and their relationships ended up boring and flat cause Riordan just wanted everyone to have a love interest and it never went deeper than the skin

-Piper took advantage over Jason’s amnesiac state and manipulated him. She really went ‘But what if he has a girlfriend he can’t remember 👉👈 it would be wrong to start a relationship with him while he still has amnesia 👉👈 and cause it was based off lies and fake memories 👉👈 lmao imma just jump all over him and make him fall for me while he’s still amnesiac 🤪’ as if that’s not taking advantage over someone’s mental state

-And then she blamed her relationship being forced on Aphrodite and Hera saying they ‘forced her into a relationship’ and ‘arranged their relationship’ even though Aphrodite never said anything about or did anything to them and Hera gave Piper fake memories of them being a couple but it was Piper’s conscious choice to act out on those memories she knew were fake and her relationship was in no way influenced by anyone (especially Hera and Aphrodite) other than herself

-Shelper and Solangelo were way too rushed and forced (inside and outside of the books) and were only added for publicity, plus it seems like most of the fandom only like them cause they’re LGBTQ+ ships

-I hate Pipeyna and Pipabeth. My girls (especially Reyna) deserve better than some manipulative little girl who went ‘we were friends? no weren’t ❤️’

-The fandom portrays the characters really inaccurately (tweaking them a bit for humor is fine, but changing their entire personality is a different thing)

-The movies actually aren’t that bad when not compared to the books (I mean, you gotta admit- it’s pretty good effects for 2010)

-And speaking of the movies, they did a better job at portraying Thalia and Annabeth’s relationship in one movie than Riordan did in 5+ books

-Speaking of which, Riordan wrote pretty much every platonic friendship that weren’t Thalia/Nico and Reyna horribly and most of them shouldn’t have been friends and wasted all the potential for the good friendships

-Calypso should’ve joined the Hunters, not Reyna

-Annabeth and Piper are horrible friends lmao (separately and together)

-Silena is a hero and deserves redemption, but Luke doesn’t despite most of the fandom agreeing he does (he was a pedophile y’all)

-The fandom over-exaggerated the Tartarus fall, it wasn’t really that bad tbh

-Reyna is stronger and a better leader than Annabeth

-Annabeth’s intelligence is more tell than show (and quite a few characters including Leo, Reyna, and Octavian have shown more intelligence than her)

-Riordan over-glorifies and overpowers Percy way too much. Just cause he’s the main character doesn’t mean he has to be the best of the best after barely 8 months of training (four years at CHB only in the summers is 8 months total)

-Speaking of which, Jason can beat Percy (8 months versus Jason’s twelve years) and so can Annabeth, Reyna, Thalia, Hylla, Luke, Hazel and maybe Frank and Nico. Percy’s skill is overrated and unrealistic

-And I feel like most of the fandom knows that Jason can beat Percy but just doesn’t want to admit it cause they like Percy more

-Same thing with the Greeks and Romans- the majority know the Romans are stronger and can easily beat the Greeks but they don’t want to believe it cause they favor the Greeks more

-Percy and Annabeth shouldn’t have been part of the Seven, they already had their chance to shine. Riordan should’ve brought minor characters into light instead

-And Piper shouldn’t have been part of the Seven either. Riordan really expects me to believe that she’s stronger, more powerful, and a greater/better hero and deserved to be part of the Seven more than Reyna, Nico, Clarisse, Thalia, etc.?

-Riordan’s women line-up of Reyna, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper was really cheap and boring (Avengers: Endgame women line-up who?)

-Percy (in HoO) and Piper are easily some of the worst, most underdeveloped characters Riordan has ever written

-Annabeth got really bland and weak in HoO and couldn’t do shit for herself without others (especially newbies) having to help and/or save her. She pretty much became exclusively Percy fangirl

-As much as I like them, Frank and Hazel don’t have what it takes to be Praetors and Reyna and Jason should’ve stayed as them

-Jason’s whole ‘am I more Greek or Roman’ arc was dumb af

-Riordan’s bias towards the Romans is also dumb af (the Romans could beat the Greeks in an instant)

-Jeyna is and always will be 1000x better than Jiper

-Hazel is the most powerful demigod (way more than Percy and even Jason)

-My hot take on who should’ve been the Seven: Reyna, Nico, Thalia, Frank, Hazel, Leo, and Clovis (son of the god of sleep puts Gaea back to sleep who?)

-Riordan confirming Piper bi was a cheap move to make her more likable. It didn’t even make any sense. A character is confirmed LGBT only after they become a minor character despite being a main character before and kisses some random unnamed girl only three months after her ex-boyfriend whom she still loved dies??? girl what??? Kinda obvious it was just for publicity. Like- Riordan, honey, the LGBTQ+ community is not a circus you can plop your characters into to make them more entertaining❤️

-The PJ series as a whole isn’t that creative. It’s legit just a copy of exactly what past mythological figures have already done and a bunch of character tropes and clichés shoved into one book

-And in general it’s not even that well-written (like HP, it’s over-exaggerated a lot)

-All of the romantic relationships and platonic friendships are extremely unrealistic. Like they never argue/fight, disagree, etc. (then grow stronger from those fights) at all??? Even if they’re complete opposites???

-Reyna is the best-written character in the whole series and a queen she deserved better and y’all sit on her too much

-Theyna is ✨amazing✨ their dynamic and chemistry was just *mwah Pansexual Muslim blessings to you* and people are allowed to ship them even though they’re Hunters and swore off love

-Rachel doesn’t deserve all the hate she gets. Y’all hate on her cause she crushed on Percy when half of you are doing the same thing and then y’all go and ship Percy with Nico, Jason, Artemis, Athena, etc.

-If y’all want to hate on Jason for ‘not having a personality’ you’d also have to hate on most of the main HoO characters except Reyna, Nico, and Leo (and maybe Hazel) for the same reason cause they have the exact same problem tbh

-Zoë and Bianca’s deaths weren’t actually that sad. We didn’t get to see them enough nor did they have enough development for their deaths to have a real impact. The only sad thing about them was Zoë’s last words and Nico’s reaction

-Thalia needed more time in the books

-Reyna was the only main female character in HoO that wasn’t a boring, bland Mary Sue that all the other characters automatically loved. She was the only one with real flaws and distinct personality traits she’s my queen

-Piper, Annabeth, and Calypso did have flaws but the fact that they weren’t called out by other characters or even noticed are what makes them Mary Sues. It doesn’t matter how many flaws a character has, if they’re not called out by other characters (more specifically, other protagonists who actually like them) they don’t count as real character flaws

-Riordan can’t write female characters for shit

-Clarisse, Drew, and Octavian deserved better than being completely antagonized for no explained reason other than to make the protagonists seem better and to make the readers root for them. Those three had more potential than most of the Seven combined

-The whole ‘Aphrodite kids don’t train’ thing is bs. It’s specifically stated that all the demigods follow a strict schedule and have to follow it or they’ll be on stable duty or smth and the Aphrodite kids shouldn’t (and can’t) be excused from that

-Therefore, Drew should be way more powerful and skilled than Piper, at least enough to not back down automatically from a duel by a newbie who hasn’t even learned how to fight (Drew can control an entire cabin of people at once and Piper can barely control one person at a time, who’s more powerful again??)

-Also I have no idea why Riordan portrays all the Aphrodite kids as weak and girly in the first place. ‘Femininity’ and ‘weakness’ are not synonymous and ‘love’ and ‘beauty’ don’t equal ‘feminine’

-Speaking of which, love is actually really powerful but Piper doesn’t stand for love or ‘inner beauty’ and all her ‘thoughtful/insightful’ quotes in ToA/TBM about love were complete bs

-Riordan using the LGBTQ+ community for the sole purpose of making Piper seem more likable and ‘special’ was disgusting and proves he thinks that straight is the default- “...Or Hera’s ideas of what a perfect couple looked like. Piper finding her own way, not the one people expected of her” my ass. In other words, he’s saying ‘The expectations for love and the idea of a perfect couple are a heterosexual relationship, and anyone who 'finds their own way instead of the ones people expect’ are different’. ‘Different’ and ‘default’ are antonyms, so if you think LGBT people are different, then you think that straight is the default. Aphrodite is the goddess of love not heteronormative bullshit. Like Riordan, honey, you’re the one who thinks that the expectations for love and the idea of a perfect couple are heterosexual couples, not fictional gods from a fictional mythology. Remember kiddos- an author writes their own beliefs

If you don’t agree with some of these that’s fine sis it doesn’t matter if you have different opinions than me❤️

#heroes of olympus #opinion #unpopular opinions #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #frank zhang #hazel levesque #leo valdez #reyna ramirez arellano #reyna avila ramirez arellano #thalia grace #nico di angelo #zoe nightshade #bianca di angelo #will solace #clarisse la rue #octavian #ships

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yeeyee-alumni · 3 years

Text

Ellie’s (lack of a) character arc & why the result is an unsatisfying story

Let’s state the obvious: Ellie does not have a character arc in The Last of Us Part 2. A character arc is defined as a gradual transformation or inner journey of a character in response to changing developments in the story. And you may argue that Ellie from the beginning of the game is not the same as the one at the end of the game, and I would agree with you. She went from a woman consumed by revenge (not really but we will stick with that for now) to a woman able to forgive her aggressor and move on. However, there are problems with this supposed inner change on multiple levels. a) the change is not gradual b) the change comes out of nowhere c) the change is not informed by anything I don’t think there’s any need to thoroughly explain the first statement. Ellie has the same goal from the beginning to the very last second before attaining her goal. At no point in the story is she self-reflective, questions her methods, there’s no moral dilemma for her, no inner conflict, no doubt that causes her to put her own actions into a new perspective and possibly change her motivation. From beginning to end she believes to be 100% justified in her goal to kill Abby. Subsequently, if Ellie were actually consumed by revenge, the only logical conclusion to her story would be for her to eventually drown Abby.

Which neatly leads me to the next point: her change comes out of nowhere. The decision to let Abby go, as is implied by the narrative, is triggered by a random, arbitrary flashback of Joel. First of all, the timing here is outright comical. For what reason is she having this specific flashback at this very moment? Sounds like contrived, convenient bs to me to give the appearance that her decision is informed by something (which it isn’t, and we'll get to that in a moment). Second of all, getting a flashback to the most important person in your life that has been brutally murdered in front of you, seeing an image of what could have been and what was unjustly taken from you, is not gonna inspire you to forgive your aggressor. If anything, it would make you more determined and sadistic. And third of all, I hear you all yelling "but it was a flashback to their conversation about forgiveness and that inspired her to forgive Abby." And I have multiple qualms regarding this line of thinking. Number one, forgiving the person you love most in this world for having lied to you cannot be compared to forgiving the person who brutally took said person from you. This actually further accentuates my previous point, this is the person that robbed you of your opportunity for reconciliation. Implying that Ellie's thought process here is „I wanted to forgive Joel, but this person robbed me of any opportunity to, so I have to forgive her” is muddled, nonsensical and quite frankly unrealistic. And number two, is the implication here that this is the first time Ellie has thought back to that conversation? That’s a whole new level of nonsense. She will have reflected on all moments with Joel, including this one, and yet at no point prior to this moment had she considered even the possibility of forgiveness, as I have illustrated earlier. So why now? Very obviously to get a payoff, which was neither set up nor properly developed. And moving on to my last point: it is not informed by anything. I know a lot of players didn’t want Ellie to kill Abby, and even I felt that way at first, albeit presumably for entirely different reasons (I was so drained and removed from the narrative by that point that I only thought to myself "just go home, you psychos"). But upon reflection, I concluded that that would have been an unsatisfying conclusion narratively speaking. Nevertheless, Abby seems to have grown dear to many players. After all, they have spent several hours with her, they have seen her struggle, overcome her obstacles, fight for what she believes to be right. Their feelings towards Abby are informed by the person they have seen her to be and by the experiences they went through with her. Yet Ellie is missing all of that context. She has not been with us throughout our three days in Seattle, she doesn’t know Abby outside of her having horrifically killed Joel and she has not gained any new information that would lead her to change her opinion about her. And so, we have another example of the story making characters do things that are not informed by anything, for the sake of a poor payoff. And since we're talking about characters acting nonsensically, let's talk about the roughly three minutes leading up to Ellie nearly drowning Abby, shall we? Ellie approaches the beach absolutely determined to find and kill Abby (repeatedly murmuring Abby’s name to herself). Yet when she reaches the pillars, she cuts Abby down, letting her free Lev and follows them to the boats, indicating that Ellie has changed her mind, showing pity/empathy upon seeing Abby a mere shadow of her former self. And yet again, we have Ellie acting in a way she never has before. She didn’t have pity for Nora who was coughing her lungs out, or for Jordan who had advocated for letting her live, or for any other innocent WLF or Seraphite that came in between her and killing Abby. But the one person she holds a grudge against to the point of killing hundreds of innocent people without batting an eye, that is the person she is suddenly capable of feeling pity/empathy for? Is it really that surprising that Ellie's actions here feel forced, uncharacteristic, and illogical? But it actually gets worse. In an additional display of Druckmann not knowing how humans work, we have Ellie putting her backpack with all her gear in the boat, looking at her bloody hand and then remembering "Oh yeah, that's the woman who killed Joel. I almost forgot.” And at this point in my playthrough I was laughing out loud. And so, we have Ellie all of sudden determined to kill Abby again, so much so that she is willing to threaten an innocent child’s life (this by the way was the final nail in the coffin for me, they thoroughly obliterated Ellie’s character throughout the entire game, but this goes against the very core of her being). And we know the rest, they fight, Ellie nearly kills Abby but eventually lets her go. To summarize what happened in the three minutes before our big emotional payoff to our 25 hour-long journey of playing this epitome of misery porn: Ellie has 3 - count them 3!!! - changes of heart. Her motivation does a perfect 180 almost every minute. This is not how people work! That’s lazy, contrived beyond believe, and borderline comical levels of writing, because Druckmann prioritized having a final boss battle on a beach over organic, coherent, and logical storytelling (but I guess it was worth it for the goddamn visuals). However, what’s most infuriating is that there are such easy fixes if one only thinks about it for more than two minutes that could erase nearly all for the major issues I just illustrated while maintaining the plot points of the two fighting on a beach and Ellie letting Abby go. If we have Ellie walk to the beach immediately, finding Abby there untying the boat (Lev nearly passed out in the boat, Ellie not seeing him) and she then attacks Abby, immediately we have erased two of Ellie’s changes of heart, she remains consistent in her goals/motivation, not jumping back and forth between two extremes. The two women fight much like we see it in the game, and then as Ellie is about to finish it, we hear Lev calling out to Abby. And there we have our motivation for Ellie to not kill her. Not because she gets a random, convenient flashback, not because she forgives Abby (Abby has done nothing to earn Ellie’s forgiveness), not because Abby has earned her redemption, but because Ellie cannot find it in her to put an innocent child through the pain Abby has put her through. Because at the end of the day, Ellie’s hatred for Abby does not outweigh her capacity for compassion and empathy for those deserving of it (a core characteristic of hers that was established in the first game). Because Ellie would rather let an individual live that is undeserving of it than cause the same pain she was put through to an innocent child that is undeserving of it. Granted, if we were to go with this ending, we would still have to build towards it properly and therefore would have to tweak the rest of the game, mainly by showing Ellie being self-reflective, merciful towards innocents, and even doubtful about her goals at times to make her final decision informed by prior developments in order to have the character arc actually be a gradual transformation leading to a logical conclusion. I have been a writer for nearly 4 years now, which means I am in no way an expert, or the most creatively talented person around and yet I would argue that this ending would be much more satisfying to most players than the alternative we were presented with. Because as it stands, none of our actions or decisions (and yes that is something important to consider when we are working within the medium of video games), or Ellie’s for that matter, lead up to this conclusion. The conclusion to this story, the final moment, the big emotional payoff hinges on a random flashback, not on any other developments that previously occurred in the story. Subsequently rendering all of the 25 hours entirely pointless, none of it had an influence on the finale, none of it mattered narratively speaking. So, is it even a surprise that many found this to be dissatisfying? I noticed a few people who are fond of Abby accusing people feeling differently of having too much of an emotional bias or even going as far as to say they are less emotionally intelligent. This is problematic for two reasons, a) different people have different reasons for disliking Ellie’s final choice. Some still hate Abby as much as in the beginning, others feel drained and indifferent, and others still feel similarly to how I feel in that it’s mainly narratively dissatisfying. And b) the same story can have a different effect on any amount of people (otherwise, we would have settled the discussion about what the greatest movie all of time is long ago). My point being, that no matter how you feel about this particular story you are 100% justified in feeling this way, and yes that includes people that by the end of the game still hate Abby just as much as they did the moment she bashed Joel’s skull in. That does not necessarily have to be personal bias, more often than not it’s the ability to see through the storytelling techniques used, rendering them mostly ineffective for these people (and I include myself in this). I wanted Ellie to kill Abby not because I was unable to empathize with her or couldn’t see past my own personal bias, but because that would have been the logical, narratively satisfying conclusion to this specific story.

#tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #ellie #ellie williams #joel #joel miller #abby #abby anderson #writing #storytelling #character arc #rant #themes #motivation #rewrite #I posted this before but deleted my account so here it is again

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kanmom51 · 3 years

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I wouldn’t say that JK was uncomfortable in that clip but he did look like he wasn’t in the mood to me & that’s ok imo !!! lol I’m a hardcore Kookmin lover and that’s what I saw in his face. Everyone can see and interpret different things. Couples or people that are super close with each other are allowed to be annoyed with each other every once and a while.

I’m a firm believer that small instances like that don’t disprove anything for me as much as the super close moments they have-often might I add- don’t necessarily prove anything for some other people.

I, for one, still think they have a really close relationship that goes beyond just friendship & a 1 second clip of Jungkook looking like he wanted to say ‘Really Jimin??, we’re doing this right here and now???’ does not mean that they aren’t close or that Jungkook is ‘uncomfortable’ with Jimin touching him or being close to him. Now THAT narrative is absolute bullshit.

I have received many asks like this or similar to this or just all up about JK's reactions, so I will answer them all in one ask, because I don't want to repeat myself. These are the asks I received (all your voices will be heard):

Ask2:

u cant blame people for thinking jk is not comfortable with jimin because everytime jm does something with him he looks annoyed as hell

ask 3:

Look I've been a supporter since 2017 and Jikook has never once made me cringe or feel awkward. JK has literally almost kissed JM and brushed lips with him and just smiled and never looked awkward. Whatever is happening with Jikook the last several months JK looks stiff and odd anytime JM interacts with him. If he is with JM, then they need to have a talk, cause All I've seen all day long is people calling JM an assaulter and homewrecker and they all say its because of JKs reactions every time.

Ask 4:

If they are broke up, JM needs to learn boundaries. If they aren't, then JM needs to have a long serious talk with JK, cause new army's coming in are already convinced JM makes JK uncomfortable. JK shouldn't have to change to please others, but if JM is his boyfriend, he needs to stop acting repulsed or annoyed or stone faced when JM touches him, cause people feed off his reactions. He fuels it. It really looks like he doesn't want JM touching him if thats the case he needs to leave JM alone too

Ask 5:

JM has looked like an extremely clingy boyfriend lately and usually I love that, I love it even more when its JK being bold and clingy, but the last several months JK's reactions make me cringe for JM. I definitely think JM is over the separation shit, the way RM rolls his eyes or they have to lie and he's probably over everyone shipping his boyfriend with his best friend, but JK isn't going a long with his boldness cause he probably is worried. I just hope this doesn't cause them more problems.

Ask 6:

Either they broke up or JK has become more private about their relationship, because there is no more excuses for JK's reactions toward JM anymore. He KNOWS JM is being hated on every single time they interact, esp here lately and he is doing NOTHING to change the narrative. Therefore its either cause they really aren't together and JK really is uncomfortable or the company told them to tone it down and JK's worried and stiffens up around JM. Its not funny anymore JM is getting formal complaints

Ask 7:

I'm tired of jikook interacting thing when it's only jimin interacting with jungkook and jungkook looks like he's in a funeral. I believe jm likes him but the narratives y'all create about jungkook are so different from his actual reactions and everyone can see that and it's the only reason jimin gets so much hate.

Ask 8:

JM deserves someone who treats him equally. Its clear JK has tapped out of whatever they have and JM isn't letting go. 2017, 2018, 2019 JK would not treat JM this way. In fact, it seemed like JK was ready to tell the world he was dating JM. His boldness in front of cameras, then. He never shunned/made JM look bad. If I did not know Jikook's relationship, I would think JM was an aggressor who makes JK uncomfortable cause that is how it reads no matter how hard we defend it. JK doesn't deserve JM.

Ask 9:

i cried so much today, honestly fuck jungkook. i hope jimin realizes how their "interactions" look on camera and sticks to his word of not even talking to him

ask 10:

JM is telling us one thing, JK is telling us another. Every time something happens with Jikook, its usually because of JM and JK looks uncomfortable, then JK will wear green & purple. JM leans on JK butter pic, JK wears green & purple shirt next day. JM trying to have moments with JK at muster, net day, JK wears purple & green earrings. I'm guessing JK will wear purple & green together soon again. JM deserves better, cause that's not cool if JK is his boyfriend and its not cool of JM if Jk's not

Ask 11:

It's not the same anymore with Jikook and Jk is the main reason. His actions towards Jimin is why its hard to continue defending Jikook. If they're together, then JK needs to treat him better period. I'm not saying he has to kiss his boyfriend in public or shout he's mine, but stop flinching, cringing and sitting there with a pissed look when he interacts if he's your boyfriend. If he's not, set boundaries and leave JM alone and stop leading him on. I'm scared for JM. BH might let him go.

Ask 12:

Genuine Q, why does everyone say jungkook is clingy with jimin? Even always behind the scenes is jimin clinging to him, looking for the tiniest way to interact with him and jungkook is always a passive receptor of all his affections. I like them together but seeing so many people say things I have never seen makes me confused and it's frustrating. Even lee hyun hugged jimin today more friendly than jungkook ever has. ANd I don't mean a 'backhug'.

Ask 13:

If he's going to be fond of JM, I'd rather he show it rather than leave JM out to dry.

So, here we go.

First thing I have to say is, please everyone take a big breath, let it out and lets start talking here.

I will start by saying that neither JK nor JM ow us a thing!! JK doesn't have to prove to us he likes or loves or wants JM, and visa versa.

If they choose to show us, every once in a while, it's their prerogative, not our right.

So, if JK loves JM, if they are in a relationship, it's JM he has to show he loves him, not us.

Where were all of you when JK was practically forcing his arms around JM to hug him after the recording of the Black swan performance? JM clearly didn't seem pleased at that moment. Were you discecting his reaction then? Either way, if your answer to the question is yes or no, you need to stop for a second and think why you were.

Moving on.

JK is not impassive to JM. JK is not hating what JM does. JK is being JK.

I have said this soooo many times before. JK in control of a situation is not the same JK caught off guard or surprised.

When JK is caught off guard he goes into a panic mode of sorts. Many times it looks like a total shut down. Freeze mode, if you wish to call it that. Resting bitch face is also good here.

When JK is in control of a situation he is happy, he is bold, he, in his mind, knows what he’s doing, where he is taking things and f**k the consequences, as far as he is concerned (at least for that split second he decides to do his crazy).

When JK is not in control and caught off guard he loses it. This is a shy introvert that suffers from anxiety. Please don’t let his stage persona confuse you.

JK isn’t uncomfortable with JM. He loves him. And even if you don’t believe they are a couple, I’m sorry, but that is something no one can deny, JK’s love for JM.

JK is an adult, he can be pretty assertive when he wants to. Yes, there is the age hierarchy, but he has shown us on more than one occasion that if he doesn’t want someone to hug him or touch him, he will push them off. We need to understand this. If JK didn’t want JM to touch him, he would push him off. If JK didn’t want JM to jump on him, he wouldn’t have caught him, it’s not like JM would have fallen on the ground. Do I have to remind just how many times JK has lifted JM and loved every single time he has done it.

But you ask, why a big smile on his face then and not this time?

Again, he knew what was coming then, he had control over the situation. He wasn’t caught off guard.

That’s JK, that’s who he is, and you cannot expect him to change who he is, how he reacts, how his face looks just because it doesn’t look good on camera to you, just because fans will dissect it to pieces and then go all nasty and turn it against the one person he loves most.

You can’t turn it on him.

It’s on the fans that as far as I am concerned shouldn’t be even called fans. The haters that instead of loving BTS and all their members are busy trying to break them down.

I will say this both to JM and JK stans:

Those are your bias, each one of them. And you bias loves the other one, JK loves JM and JM loves JK (no matter the level of love, friend, boyfriend, partner, they love each other).

You claim to love them, so how can you point so much anger and hate towards the one person they love so much????

If you don’t have something good to say, don’t say it. Because, saying something bad about the one your bias loves, well, don’t you think it would hurt them too???

Your bias, the person you claim to admire, care for, support, he chose to love this other person. Why don’t you give him some credit that he knows what he’s doing? That if that other person was treating him badly, he would no longer be with him, no longer gravitate towards him. No one is forcing him to always, always, be by his side, rub his neck, hug him, talk about him (always positive things, at that, unless it’s giving us information we didn’t really need to know about the other, like how long they shower, how loud they snore, who they were with at 4 am etc.).

PLEASE give your bias the well deserved credit that he knows what his wants and needs are. If JM didn’t want to be with JK, if he felt his needs weren’t being met, he wouldn’t be with him. Same said about JK.

They know how to disconnect, how to distance themselves and still stay professional, and yet, they choose to be at each other's side. That should say something to you.

So, my suggestion to you is to just leave them alone. Yes, I said it.

Let them be who they want to be. We cannot impose our needs for JK to show TKK’s he likes it when JM goes on the way he does on JK. He is who he is. If JM is unhappy with it, well he won’t put up with it, believe me. He is not a damsel in distress and doesn’t need the fans to save him from mean ole’ JK. JM is a strong ass man, I’ve said this many times before. He can take care of himself, and believe me, if he had a problem with JK’s reaction, the boy knows how to deal with it without fans coming to his rescue.

Fans need to stop inserting themselves into these young men’s lives. We are spectators, no more no less.

If you can enjoy them while understanding that, great. If not, well maybe the right thing is to take a breath, re-evaluate things and then come back.

#ask #anon

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

Note

I’d disagree with the anon that Paul was “incapable” of love, but I do agree he was very distanced, and pretty cruel (to women) when he was younger. (It was unfortunate they bought into the love at first sight myth, but he was also a charmer, and dropped affection and got colder after fucking them.)

But I just can’t see romantic interest on Paul’s end. I’m sure he loved John, but a lot of the “sexual/Romantic evidence” really can just be as construed as platonic love. I feel there may be some confirmation bias looking for “clues”. (Not an attack on anyone, but some of the analysises seem to try too hard, really).

He does make references, with the whole “calling him babe during concerts”, and “in bed” but that could just mean he’s not uncomfortable with coming off “gay”. He has a quote about it somewhere I think. He’s supportive of the community at any rate.

This is kind of my own bias, but at times I think he…plays it up a little during the present day? Again, I’m positive he did love John a lot, but with how he is, a charmer, good at manipulating his image, he knows there is a benefit to building up the “magical” Lennon McCartney dynamic. John’s dead, and the old conflicts have faded, so he has no reason not to. I don’t think he’s anti-social, or a psycho or anything, but he certainly does put a lot of thought into his image, especially now, with how he wants to leave his legacy.

I’m less knowledgeable about John, and the speculation about his mental illnesses, but on his end, I can certainly see it. Maybe he’s just blind, but the looks are very much…yeah. He does seem to rely Paul a lot, and hold him in very high regard (REGARDLESS of what those old male biographers might make of him). You just know he was suffering over Paul, poor bastard.

Not sure if anything happened. I think Paul knew though, and either ignored it, or was kind, knowing John wouldn’t act on it. OR he didn’t notice! With the whole “we shared beds A LOT. you would think he’d make a pass at me, darling~”

I guess that’s how I see it. I don’t really have strong feelings on the nature of their relationship, or want them to be “confirmed”, so I try to be as objective as possible! Not a shipper, but not a male biographer. In fact, I was very put off learning the ship was a thing at first! With every fan base “having to” ship the main male leads, that’s what I thought this was. But after three years, reading actual books, primary stuff, I’ve began to change my mind on its legitimacy, and this was my conclusion. But new information can always change!

(Sorry for the long long analysis, god! I just took my adderall and I should go eat! Feel free to block me for spam/harassment.)

Yeah, this is basically my big mclennon dilemma: did Paul love John?

Of course he loved him, but I mean did he harbour any homosexual feelings towards John - and I just go back and fourth on that a lot.

In my last response to an anon I wasn’t necessarily trying to argue that Paul was romantically/sexually attached to John, because all in all, I don’t believe he did - but it probably came off that way because I didn’t particularly like the way the anon had phrased some stuff (like calling him “a master manipulator” and “incapable of love”) and so I just sort of wanted to show that the relationship was more nuanced then just “john was simping for paul”. My overall point with that response was more so that whilst I think Paul struggles in showing real affection and emotions, I don’t think he was incapable of love prior to Linda. I think he did really love John (in whichever form of love you want to take it: romantically, platonically etc.)

And so my point I guess wasnt so much that Paul was always capable of love (because I think he did at least love his family, his close-friends, probably Jane etc.), but maybe more so that he was always capable of intimacy with another person, though he struggled with it.

But yeah, he was quite cruel to a lot of the girls he slept with in the 60s, but I wouldn’t say that suggests he was incapable of love (i know thats not what you’re saying but other people might interpret it through that lens) I would just say he was young, dumb, ridiculously rich and famous and not emotionally mature enough yet to really empathise with most of those girls. Not trying to completely excuse him, but like, i dunno, i always just try to view people from the most human perspective. Everyones an twat sometimes yknow

I also really struggle to see romance on Pauls behalf towards John - the only times I think “wait but maybe he did fancy john back” is when I read some of his lyrics (like in ‘Coming Up’, ‘Yvonne’s The One’, and to some extent ‘Here Today’ - though I think interpreting Here Today as strictly platonic love is still a valid interpretation). I mentioned this in a different post though, that analysing his lyrics just isnt particularly convincing for me, because it feels more like speculation - and also as someone who does write songs, I know that a lot of lyrics just arent as deep as we wish they were. It is really difficult to be truly introspective and honest in a song, without exaggerating or hyperbolising or fictionalising any autobiographical aspects.

I do see your point with Paul possibly playing up the “Lennon/McCartney m a g i c” - im not entirely sure how much I agree, but I do agree to some extent. I think he’s always been very image conscious, and being in what is probably the all-time most famous pop band definitely wouldve heightened that. Even as a teenager I think he’s always just had this natural charm about him, and that tends to stem I guess from a need to be liked; I think you can see it in every interview he’s ever done to be honest. Its not necessarily a bad thing, (because id take a charmer over a rude knobhead any day) but I guess it sort of just shows that Paul is flawed like everybody else. Also, just read @mothernatures-sons tags and I agree with her - Paul just knows when to be a nice person! Nothing wrong with that! It isnt manipulative like the last anon suggested, its just how most people are: polite :) Ive heard a lot of anecdotes from people who have worked with or met Paul and the majority of them say he was a just a nice guy. Not saying he was never an arsehole (cause yeah he was pretty cruel to those girls in the 60s) but I think overall, hes a pretty good guy 👍

On the other hand though, you could also say that superficial journalists are looking for superficial answers - and Paul knows what the people want to hear. But occasionally ill hear an interview that does seem more intimate then most - I havent listened to it in awhile, but the interview he did with Sean I remember felt more honest to me then most. And when he said he’d like to spend the day “in bed” with John, to me that felt like a genuine and fitting response. Because, whilst it has sexual connotations, it also just feels like he’s saying he’d just like to sit around, chat, dont chat, just whatever with John for a day. Like he would just like another moment of intimacy with him.

I think we are pretty much in agreement on most of this though! At first I was also like “nah, mclennon isnt real, teenage girls just love shipping guys!” (I am a teenaged girl and I can confirm this lol) but then it just sort of became apparent to me through reading more and more about their relationship that there probably was something more on Johns behalf. If John wasnt in love with Paul, then it feels as though a lot of things he said and did just dont add up (the big one for me is him marrying Yoko so soon after Paul married Linda - like I really cannot come up with a heterosexual explanation for that!)

But when it comes to Paul, though ill have moments of doubt, I dont think he was in love with John (homosexually) and I do think a lot of the evidence on Pauls behalf seems like a stretch (but like you, im not having a go at anyone, because I understand that it is easy to carried away, plus its fun - but realistically, most of Pauls evidence just is not convincing to me). He’s comfortable with his sexuality, and I really do try to respect that and not force a gay interpretation of quotes or songs from him, unless it is genuinely making me question his sexuality and mclennon.

PS dont worry, I didn’t take this is spam at all!! And also, I would never block someone just for disagreeing with me! I enjoy discussion and I think its good to engage with people who disagree with you! To be honest, id only block someone if they were purposely being a real arsehole <3

#mclennon #discussion

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ziracona · 3 years

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Hello! I have always believed that Michael needed better doctors and good treatment. He was simply billed as "Evil". Sometimes I think that at that time they were unaware or ignorant of mental illness, and that is why Michael did not recover. I wish it had been treated better. I would like to know your opinion about it ;v;

Oh, absolutely. Michael is a very tragic character, and what happened to him was almost entirely Loomis’ fault, secondarily the system and his parents’, and like onyl 0.8% his own. It’s true that mental health aid has historically been really bad in most places, and even today treatment and acceptance—even in specifically medical settings—tend to be abysmal. Of course people knew less than they do now about how psychological stuff works, but bias, cruelty, and superstition as well as a system that enables and even to degrees outright encourages that is to blame for the awful treatment people woth mental illnesses and personality disorders faced and continue to face, not just a lack of knowledge, and the history is really heavy and awful to look over. : ( It’s horrific some of the things doctors have done and do to people just trying to get help.

Like, in Michael’s case, we’ve had a name and understanding of psychosis since the 1800s. Canonically, by the time the poor kid was six years old, he was hearing voices telling him to do bad things to people. He told his parents, seeking help, and they did nothing to help him—just told him it was his imagination—despite knowing hos grandfather had suffered the same symptoms. If they had only taken him seriously and given him therapy and possibly medication too, Judith never would have died. (I am not goong to say it every time, but all this information is official canon) Michael’s reason for killing his family members is wanting the vocies talking to him to be quiet, because it’s agonizing. If you’ve ever had intrusive thoughts (stuff like “pull into oncoming traffic” or “break that and see what happens” and such that don’t actually compell or force you to do it at all, and are always things you as a person deeply do not want to do, but nevertheless are really annoying or distressing to hear in your head), imagine that cranked up to 1000, endless and constant, but from voices that seem to come from around you instead of in your head. Especially as a young child, with no understanding what is happening to you, this would be incredibly scary and distressing—doubly so when dismissed by your parents, whose sole job is supposed to be to love and protect you.

The voices say they’ll be quiet if Michael kills Judith, so Halloween night, he does. Important to note here Michael is recently six years old at the time, which developmental psych literally is not old enough to have a complete understanding what death itself is, let alone complex morality. You /cannot/ be evil at six, you simply don’t have a complex enough understanding of right and wrong or of consequence to /be/ evil. Also at this age, usually kids see death as a vague concept, but one that applies to people they don’t know only, not to them and their loved ones. In Halloween 1978, immediately after stabbing Judith, Michael looks away while he keeps doing it, and his breathing speeds up in a scared way. He barely looks at the body, and immediately goes down stairs to wait for his parents—probably for them to fix it—and does nothing to flee or hide what he’s done. He looks traumatized when they take his mask off. (Lots of little notes here like that Judith when she sees him seems annoyed but not very, and when he attacks her, tries to shield herself and call to him to stop, rather than fleeing or fighting back, which [appealing instead of fight or flight] is pretty exclusively something you only would use if attcked by someone you are on good terms with—I mean, Michael is six—if Judith had /tried/ to fight back, no way she would have died—so there’s less than nothing to indicate they had anything but a loving familial sibling relationship. But if I list all these I’m gonna launch into my six page Michael Myers meta so I will speed through the rest.)

Anyway! Sorry, I have many feelings. About...everything. Including Michael for sure. So, immediately after killing Judith, Michael stops talking. He also shows other psychosis and trauma readily recognized side effects, like catatonia, slowed movement. In Halloween 1978c Dr. Loomis claims he tried to treat Michael for eight years, then spent another seven trying to keep him locked up because he realized he was evil. This is a /blatant/ lie, as in film canon Loomis, by Michael’s review hearing I believe four months in? Six or less for sure, I believe it is four. Loomis has /already/ become convinced Michael is a demon in human form, faking his symptoms, and itching to kill again. The other doctors think Loomis is crazy, as does the other doctor who examines Michael, but they’re awful people so they let him stay Michael’s doctor anyway, even though they refuse to move him to Litchfield maximum security. By this time only a few months in, Loomis is canonically also threatening the six year old in his care and constantly telling him he is an evil being who wants to get out and terrorize again. (Also, I will die enraged the sentance Michael gets for killing Judith is to remain locked in solitary in a sanitorium for /15/ years, until he turns 21, at which point he will be tried as an adult for murder??? The fuck?? You CANNOT charge a 6 year old’s crime in adult court! ‘Tried as an adult’ is meant for like, when a 17 year old dismembers their family and eats them! It’s for particularly heinous crimes, committed by someone /very/ close to being legally an adult, and that /only/. The idea of waiting fifteen years to try someone as an adult for something done at age six is laughable and sick).

Okay this is already long, I get carried away rip. Uhhh, anyway, yeah. In Smith’s Grove, Michael is visited by mom and Laurie once, then never sees any of his family again, because his dad hates him and forbids the others—finds out because Laurie is four and talks that they went /one/ time, and physically beats four year old Laurie for mentioning his name until she trauma blocks out ever having had a brother. From then on, Michael spends /fifteen/ years and all the dest of his developmental stages of childhood in a sanitorium with Dr. Loomis—a man who on wild religious superstition grounds assumes by his own admission /on sight/ that Michael is evil, and no other human contact. According to canon, Michael spends at least four hours of /every/ day with Loomis, his /only/ human contact, who threatens him, promises to stop him, and endlessly barrages him with “You’re evil, you’re not human, you want to kill again, I /will/ stop you,” and nothing else. He also canonically keeps Michael overdosed on a type of antipsychotic that, while a fine drug if used normally, if overdosed can deeply worsen symptoms, and can cause permanent brain damage.

Honestly, if a six year old is exposed yo major trauma, none of their issues are explained, legitimized, or believed, and almost all of their developmental stage is spent with endless voices they don’t know the cause of suggesting murder and violence, one human being and authority figure telling them over and over and over for fifteen years with no other constant in their life or human contact period that they are a demon in human form who wants to kill and is /going/ to do so again...? How else was that story ever going to end? I’ve said it before, but that’s beyond conditioning; it’s lab growing a human child to one day walk out and murder Laurie Strode with a large kitchen knife.

I stand by Halloween is a greek tragedy more than a slasher, and Michael and Laurie are both victims. He’s the Asterios, she’s the Ariadne. Loomis the Minos, the real villain. (Or the Poseidon choose your poison).

Anyway, I 100% agree! If he had just gotten help from his parents, Judith would have never died. If he’d had good doctors, none of the events of 1978 would have come to pass, or anything after it. Loomis single-handedly causes the deaths in 1978 himself through years of cruelty, and bigoted bias towards a small child in his care who needed his help, not his abuse, but he chose to break as much as he possibly could despite his responsibilities as a doctor, an adult, and a human.

If you’re interested, I did a canon-deep-dive character study short story on Michael on AO3! Halloween is such a sad story but it’s fascinating. God, poor Michael and Laurie deserved so much better than they got. It’s a testament to Michael’s character that even after 15 years of Dr. Loomis, he really only kills his intented target(s) in search of quiet from the voices, and anyone who sees him/would be a threat, and not other people. Makes no attempt to kill any of the kids in Halloween 2018, and only kills Bob when he literally opens the door to his hiding spot and Michael is found and Bob becomes a threat to him. In H20, after Michael has had 20 years on his own, you get arguably the least brutal Michael, who intentionally passes on killing the mother and child, and the security guard he walks right past, because they don’t see him and thus he doesn’t /have/ to. Halloween II is less intentionally avoiding, but even then he still does the same multiple times too, like with the old lady making a sandwich, or the scene in the incubator room. Anyway he desevered better fuck Loomis all my homies hate Loomis.

#ask #anonymous #michael myers #halloween #halloween 1978 #halloween II #Halloween H20 #Halloween 2018 #note: Michael is written /very/ differenly in the different timelines. different writers took complrtely dofferent approaches to hin as a #person. and his motives. so unless I state otherwise I am always talking exclusively about the version of Michael from the H20. 2018. & DbD #timelines. since those are all largely the same character. unlike the 3-4 RZ and resusrection or the novelization etc #they’re seperate universes w different canons. i am only really interedted in core/OG canon and its offshoots #its /direct/ offshoots haha #laurie strode #sam loomis #Isolation (fic)#Isolation #meta #michael myers meta #long post #me: I am not gonna do the six page breakdown ima do an overview #me: doesn’t do the six pages but damn well doesn’t do the short version either #i can’t help it you found an intense passion topic

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Logan’s Gay and Remy’s in a Suit

Summary: Just read the title Content: Gays, so much gays, nb!remy, nb!logan (he uses he/him pronouns but he’s still an enby suckers), mentions of dying of gay, logan thinking that flirting = bullying because he’s a useless gay Pairing: Romo losleep Notes: I’m so sleep-deprived I should be sleeping but i HAD to write this so. have it. inspired by this art by @strawberryjellystuff

Logan was a smart person. He knew a good deal of things. He knew the distance from the earth to the sun, to the moon, and to Mars. He knew the average amount of bones in the human body at any given interval of life. He knew the names of every capital of every city in north and south america.

He also knew that he was very, very gay. This fact alone wasn’t too shocking or even that impressive. Logan had known he was gay since he was fifteen. It hadn’t been hard to figure out.

It was the ‘very, very’ that was important. As a rule, Logan rarely felt the need to enhance his words with ‘very.’ He made his points, he made them clearly, and he made them exactly as he wanted them. There was no reason for him to use ‘very.’

Then he met Remy.

And Remy… woo boy. Remy.

Remy made Logan feel it extremely necessary to add ‘very, very’ to his normally adequate descriptor of ‘gay.’ That was because Remy was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very pretty. And there was only a little bit of the author’s bias showing through in that statement. It was mostly cold, hard fact. You know because LOGAN’S thinking it and he thinks in pretty much only fact.

So Logan was gay, Remy was (objectively) the prettiest person to exist, and Logan was trying his hardest to stop his writer from taking away his braincells and turning him into a proper gay disaster.

Except he and Remy worked at the same university. In the same department. During most of the same hours.

Logan was having a hell of a time holding onto those braincells.

However, while it had taken time, Logan had adjusted. Survival of the fittest, and all- if Logan wasn’t able to adapt to constantly being around someone so pretty it was outlawed in several made-up countries and a few real ones, then Logan wasn’t fit enough to survive. So he had adapted and he had done so flawlessly.

Better put, he had suffered several weeks learning how to adjust to the fact that Remy’s naturally perfect looks were only increased by xyr leather jacket and sunglasses, the fact that xy knew how to smirk like xy owned the world (impossible, Logan had considered before, considering Remy was clearly the world, and one could not own oneself), and the fact that Remy was a bully.

That was the only word Logan had for Remy’s actions towards him, anyways- after all, there was no way Remy had missed the way Logan’s cheeks seemed to literally light on fire every time xy smiled at him, or the little giggle Logan had never properly learned to fight down every time Remy called him a petname (a wholly ridiculous response considering Remy called lots of people petnames- sure, xy only ever seemed to call Logan ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘light of my world and stars of my universe’ but that didn’t mean anything), or the way Logan stumbled over his every word when attempting to return an offhanded compliment that Remy likely had paid him by accident while thinking of… coffee. Remy did like xyr coffee, after all.

But Remy’s bullying aside, Logan HAD adapted. He was able to look at Remy with minimal flushing, he had become the master of avoiding conversation topics designed to trap him (though Remy was becoming creative with xyr compliment-trap setups… Logan would have to start adapting faster than Remy if he hoped to survive the semester), and he knew the fastest exits out of every room and building in the entire university, ensuring that- if ever needed- he could literally flee Remy. He was surviving in his new, Remy-included environment.

And then the author Jelly Remy decided to adapt as well.

It had been a normal day of work up until then- Logan was working on checking over papers and going through his lesson plan a few more times, making sure he had everything ready for the school day. Upon realizing his coffee had run low, he got up, stretching as he began to move towards the staff lounge, seeking a refill.

There was only one other teacher there at the moment, which Logan figured made sense- most of the astronomy professors had early morning classes, Logan being one of only two who didn’t. He had gotten out of it by luck- the other had insomnia and wasn’t normally at school in the mornings.

Logan barely glanced at xyr, however, wanting to get his coffee before he had to deal with being flustered at seven in the morning. He was fairly certain it wouldn’t be that bad of a fluster, anyways- he was at least partially prepared this time, and he was about to have coffee on his side, and it looked like Remy had traded xyr normal leather-jacket look for a suit of some kind, and Remy had probably had a rough night if xy were in early so xyr flusters wouldn’t be top of xyr game, and-

Logan stopped. Blinked. Processed. Processed again.

A… suit?

Logan turned to look at Remy and immediately regretted the decision. Because those braincells he had mentioned earlier? Gone. Stolen. Removed from existence. In theory, the author’s got them stored up somewhere but… eh, their location’s not important. Not like Logan could use them even if he found them.

Because Remy was in a suit- a blue suit with delicate, lovely white flower designs traced over the chest and around xyr wrists, complimented by a lovely purple tie Logan had never seen Remy wear before- mostly because Remy didn’t normally wear ties. Or suits. Why was Remy wearing a suit?

To kill me Logan decided barely a second later when Remy caught him staring and smirked at him in a way that was most decidedly an act of bullying.

“Good morning, sunlight and starshine.” Remy said, further proving that xy was a bully and that xy was bullying Logan right then and there, a conclusion Logan came too as he clamped a hand over his mouth and focused on not making any sound even slightly akin to a giggle. “How are you on this morning that’s nowhere near as fine as you?”

Logan, smartly, didn’t respond. Speaking would ultimately result in him stuttering, mumbling, and tripping over his words, which would make Remy smirk more, which would make Logan blush more, which would create a horrible cycle that would only end when either Remy left or Logan died. So, by not responding, the cycle never started and therefore could not end in Logan’s death.

In choosing to do nothing else but stare at Remy without saying a word, however, Logan apparently had responded, in a way- Remy’s smirk still grew and Logan still ended up blushed harder.

“Oh, darling, don’t tell me I’ve made you speechless.” Remy teased, moving from xyr spot against the wall to stand in front of Logan, tilting xyr head to the side. “No, wait, do tell me. I do love to hear your voice.”

Logan remained silent. Remy couldn’t go on forever with no new material… right?

“Or, hey, maybe it’s not me.” Remy went on, unconcerned with Logan’s silence. “Maybe you’re just tired. That’s why you were acting perfectly fine until you saw me, after all. Just tired. Is that right? Or should I keep guessing?”

Realizing that silence was getting him nowhere and nothing (besides more flustered), Logan decided to simply attempt to move on with his day. Maybe ignoring Remy would make xyr go away.

Logan had just barely turned to once more resume his walk to the coffee pot when he was forced to stop once more, this time not by Remy’s looks but by the fact that Remy had a hand and the ability to grab Logan’s wrist with it.

A very annoying ability for sure, given it not only prevented Logan from continuing with his brilliant plan of ‘if you just ignore xyr eventually xy’ll go away’, but also increased his blush and got him looking at Remy again which was increasing his blush even more. By now, Logan was fairly sure his entire face was red, which was completely unfair given that blue was much more his colour.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.” Remy said, voice now both confident and sweet, which wasn’t helping Logan’s goal to Just Stop Blushing Already at all. “If you really have had a long night, I don’t mean to tease.”

“N-no, I’m fine.” Logan said, which was a lie, because he wasn’t fine at all, he was doing terribly, but he was also doing a million times better than usual, which also wasn’t fine but it was in a completely different direction than terribly. So, either way, his statement was a lie. “Just uh… a long morning.”

Logan realized that was the wrong answer the moment Remy’s softer smile once more became a smirk. “I take it back, then. I very much mean to tease.”

“Ah-” Logan cleared his throat, trying to find a way to backtrack, “I do have, uh, a couple of papers to take care of, so-”

“And you don’t have class for at least another hour.” Remy pointed out for him, still holding onto his wrist and giving no indication that xy’d be letting go of it anytime soon. “You’ve got the time to spare for a bit of conversation with your favorite colleague.”

“You presume to be my favorite?” Logan managed to say without tripping over any of his words.

Remy’s smirk just turned knowing. “I don’t have to be a poker player to spot your tells, babe. Unless, of course, you have another reason for constantly blushing around me.”

“You possibly have a higher-than-average body temperature that causes all the objects and people within your near vicinity to heat up as well, therefore prompting a blush in those organisms that have the ability to blush.” Logan offered, well aware everything he was saying was bullshit meant only as a poor attempt to save himself.

Unsurprisingly, Remy saw right through him. “Nah, hun, I don’t think it’s that. You can try again, if you want, but if you’d let me take a crack at it-”

“Please do not.” Logan interrupted rather hurriedly, which only fueled Remy’s amusement. “I am simply… tired. And busy. So, ah, if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back to my work-”

“Alright, beautiful, I know when I’m wanted.” Remy said, politely half-ignoring as Logan looked away and pretended to cough into his arm as he let out a small giggle. “One question before you go?”

“I really should be-”

“Are you free tonight?”

That shut Logan up. “I- what?”

“Are you free tonight?” Remy repeated, only smiling at Logan’s confusion. “I know this really lovely place downtown, I promise you you’ll love it, though not nearly as much as I love you-”

“I- what?!” Logan said, more panickedly this time. Tonight? Restaurant? Love you?

Remy titled xyr head to the side, looking puzzled. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer for you, love.”

“I- ah- you- are you- are you asking me out on- on a date?” Logan demanded, not caring much for how many times he had to restart his sentence but having no solution for that particular problem.

“...I would’ve hoped that was fairly obvious, yes.” Remy answered, shaking xyr head a bit as they continued to watch Logan with amused confusion. “This isn’t a surprise to you, is it?”

“Well- I- uh- it’s just-”

Remy laughed. “Oh, darling, I hate to laugh at you, but- Lo, hun, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks now. This can’t be that shocking.”

“You’ve been flirting with me?!” Logan responded. “When?!”

“I- Logan, I’ve been calling you the most ridiculous of petnames, complimenting you every time you so much as blink, repeatedly breaking into your classroom to force you to eat lunch with me, interrupting your classes to tease you- what do you think I’ve been doing?”

“Bullying me!”

“I was- I’m sorry, say that again?”

“Bullying me!” Logan repeated as asked, moving his coffee cup into the hand that Remy was holding hostage so that he could run his fingers through his hair, feeling frazzled. “You kept- you kept doing things to make me blush and- and lose focus- and- and giggle, for gods’ sakes- what else could you have been doing?!”

To Logan’s surprise, instead of defending xyrself, Remy just laughed as xyr face broke out in the widest grin Logan had seen xyr wearing all morning. “You absolute dork.” Xy said, though xyr tone was only endearing. “You really are a disaster gay, huh?”

“...Just a little.” Logan said weakly, before forcing himself to amend, “Maybe a lot.”

“A lot sounds more accurate, yeah.” Remy agreed, still laughing a bit. “Bullying you- oh, you really are too cute, sugar.”

Logan resisted the urge to run to exit number fifty-nine and escape the blush that, at this point, was likely hot enough to permanently burn his skin. “You’re still being a bully.”

“Oh, probably.” Remy admitted before xyr grin was once again replaced by a smirk Logan had both memorized and yet also knew he would never get used to. “But am I being too much of a bully that you won’t go out on a date with me?”

“I- uh- I-” Logan ducked his head. He couldn’t accept Remy’s offer, he really couldn’t, it would almost guarantee his death, and he had worked so hard to become immune to Remy’s killer charm (pun not intended and not appreciated).

But at the same time… Logan wasn’t sure he had the willpower to refuse.

So, predictably, he settled for a quick little nod that said everything Remy needed to hear without Logan having to stutter his way through a single word.

Remy’s grin turned dazzling. “Perfect!” Xy exclaimed, quickly pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek before he could even begin to react. “I’ll pick you up after all our classes are out, okay?”

“O-okay.” Logan said numbly, free hand raising to rest over the spot where Remy had kissed him, feeling half-trapped in a dream.

“Perfect!” Remy repeated, still grinning as xy let go of Logan’s hand, heading towards the door, bursting with energy and clearly on xyr way to continue planning the exacts of Logan’s demise.

Before xy could fully get out of the room, however, Logan managed to get his voice back about him and call out, “Wait!”

Remy immediately stopped, turning back to look at Logan. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I- uh-” Logan gestured vaguely at Remy, “Your suit. You- You never wear suits. Why today…?”

At that, Remy’s grin just widened to a degree Logan wasn’t entirely sure should be humanly possible. “For our date, of course!” Xy answered, raising xyr sunglasses just so that xy could wink at Logan. “I had a feeling you’d say yes.”

And with that, Remy left, leaving Logan to stand in the middle of the staff lounge, empty coffee mug still in one hand, the other still resting on his cheek and over the spot where Remy had kissed him, feeling dazed in the best sort of way possible.

He was still standing there when another one of the teachers wandered in, shooting him a strange look. “Are you alright, Logan?”

“Not at all.” Logan answered truthfully.

He was much, much better than alright.

#losleep #write losleep cowards #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #nb!remy #nb!logan #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #imma post this and then pass out someone remind me to set this up to queue later #also if y'all spot an accidental misgendering let me know so i can change it when i'm more awake

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