#Don’t think the thing is scary or don’t think it can kill

[1nkwe4ver]

So here’s the theory. I think I’ve got it

I still think what Lumon is doing is bigger than giving rich people the chance to sever off their bad experiences. And I think Helena is actually a big hint to understanding whats going on with Gemma.

They act like Cold Harbor is going to be a religious revelation to the world, and I don’t think it’s just “eliminate all your troubles with Severance!” Like okay so if you’re not immediately existentially horrified by it, that might sound kinda cool, but what’s the big miraculous reveal they keep referencing with Cold Harbor? That will change the world? Make everyone join the cult of Kier? Why all the goddamned secrecy and hiding Gemma underground? Obviously people already know about severance and about using it for your inconveniences, people are already doing it. People are severing off worker bees for their 9-5. Rich people are using it to give birth.

So I have a theory of how this is bigger than that

First of all, some of the questions they asked Gemma. I felt like they were checking on her mental functions and memory as herself, as an Outie. “Where did you go?” And “Would you be more afraid of drowning or suffocating?”before she even starts her rooms for the day.

The next key I think is in things like MDR. They are finding the scary numbers and refining them into the boxes labeled with tempers(if that’s not what they’re labeled with it’s something like that). Mark’s first file matched the name of Gemma’s Christmas Thank You Note room, I think. Implying his finishing that file had something to do with the formation of that room. The room resembles the way one of their actual Christmases was set up, so I feel it’s implied they were drawing from his memories. Possibly one where they were feeling crappy because of all their failing to get Gemma pregnant.

Okay. So even if you accept that Lumon categorizes all bad feelings into the “tempers”, why does Lumon need this to make a room for Gemma’s Innie to experience this temper? Why bother personalizing it to Outie Gemma’s experiences in such a weirdly intimate way? After all, Innies aren’t supposed to have that kinda connection to their Outies.

And even beyond Mark, what is the rest of MDR doing? Why have them craft these weirdly personalized rooms to isolate tempers so intensely? If all they wanted was to let Innies do the dirty work for the Outies, surely they could come up with rooms doing the basic premises for themselves- eternal dentist offices and chores.

Also, why fucking plane crashes and Thank You Notes? Yes, Gemma hates thank you notes, but that Innie didnt hate thank you notes until she was subjected to that room over and over. You can’t tell me they’re going to sever so many innies into the average brain that someone is going to have one set aside to turn on just in case a plane crashes. Irl, a persons going to want to call their family if they have the service. They’re going to want to experience their last moments in case they die. They can’t trust the Innie to actually behave like a person on a real life plane rather than a simulated one. I also highly doubt someone will really get another brain surgery just to do a petty thing like Thank you notes. Will they delegate it? Sure. But even if I’m buying into the system of brain slaves thing, I’m not going to schedule the time and take the risks to have another severance done. If im that rich and petty I’m sure I have a personal assistant doing that shit anyway.

So how does Helena Eagan shed some light on this?

Remember after Irving nearly killed her, she speaks with Drummond. They say something along the lines of, doctors say her tempers will rebalance promptly. But if she’s still feeling poorly they can treat her. She insists immediately and firmly that she is fine.

I know it’s implied Helena wasn’t severed until she got her job on the severed floor. So what if that’s the point of severance?

Stay with me here. Kier has to be the core of whatever’s going to be revealed with Cold Harbor and Gemma. The beginning. They’re crediting everything to him. Praise Kier. His work will finally be realized and everyone will rejoice. But Helena has confirmed that Jame is the one to come up with the severance procedure.

So what did Kier do? He identified the tempers, for one. What does Lumon actually do with the tempers? All we’ve heard mentioned is people getting them in balance, or out of balance.

Helena’s situation implies two things-

One- followers of Kier approach larger medical issues, physical and mental, with doctors who rebalance their tempers as opposed to other remedies.

Two- Even Helena fucking Eagan isn’t really willing to undergo whatever the fuck you have to do to get your tempers back in balance under a doctor’s supervision.

So my theory is- Kier’s original method of balancing the tempers, the basis of Lumon’s ideology, is some variation of what they’re doing to Gemma, traditionally without severance. Obviously, because severance didn’t exist till a few years ago.

My theory is that they believe every illness/lack of wellness is an imbalance of the tempers. More often than not, a lower amount of one.

To raise this temper, they dig into you psychologically, maybe with normal therapy or something, take something that stimulates a certain “temper” and make you experience it over and over, to the point of torture. In their view, this ultimately realigns the temper and once youre done, you recompartmentalize the Dieter in you that’s experiencing that shit, and you’re well again.

The issue was, well- patients either left their cult or lost their minds. Kier died and I’m sure his personality, which had probably drawn and kept many in, lost many followers with it.

So the Eagans and their remaining followers have to accept that things aren’t going right. They have to change their approach. Make things a business to keep their power and influence, and back off from the things that make them look like wackjobs in the public eye.

I mean, obviously, Kier could never have been wrong, he was right. The problem is the world. The masses cannot handle his wisdom for some reason. We have to approach this differently.

So they need to do two things to make Kier’s word acceptable to the mainstream, really. They need to prove, as they believe, that balancing the tempers can heal pretty much any fucking thing under the sun. And secondly- they need to make a way to make the process usable on the masses. Something an average person could make it through without losing their mind.

In comes Jame Eagan.

He has the best idea. Kier always compartmentalized his time “balancing his tempers.” He put it all on Dieter(if Dieter was a real brother, excuse me, but I’m going with the ‘he was a metaphor’ interpretation for this. If you disagree, just take my references to Dieter to be personified portions of yourself you’ve compartmentalized to deal with traumatic situations). But Kier was pure. He was superior. The average person may need help to do that! Let’s section off a portion of their memories, so they don’t have to remember going through treatment! We create these people’s Dieter’s for them, because as long as the tempers in their body are balanced, they will experience the healing effects of Kier’s treatments. So what if those versions of them are in continuous loops of torture? Nobody cares about the states of those minds. Those are Dieters. Those aren’t real people. And then the real people get to be whole again!

Okay, but how do we convince the masses that this isn’t crazy bullshit? We need a real, solid example of how surreally magical and intense Kier’s treatment can be.

Well, the doctor says- with such strong mental barriers as this procedure will give us, I believe we could rebalance the tempers in anyone. Could do anything.

You know what it could do? We could raise the dead.

So- I think Gemma did die. Physically. I think they took her corpse, which Mark identified early on, and quickly swapped it out for them to bury a different one.

Then they used crazy technology to resuscitate her. I think she was on the edge of death and miserable and a shell of herself. Probably hardly functioning. Hardly reacting to the questions they asked. Who knows what her mind and body were like when she was recovered. She was her, but if she’d been allowed in a normal hospital, she would have long been pronounced dead, and if they somehow resuscitated her as Lumon originally did, so late, no one would have let her live how they resuscitated her to be. Gemma being brought back to herself as we’ve seen her would be a miracle.

That’s why they need MDR to unconsciously choose what they will use for the formation of the rooms. They are making sure the rooms will spike the sharpest reactions of her tempers possible. It is necessary to have a raw, unconscious human response dictate this. It is helpful to draw from Mark’s memories because they’re not trying to test Gemma’s Innies ability to withstand dealing with the rooms, they’re trying to restore Gemma’s tempers to the levels they were at before her death. Other people’s experiences can work for some general things, like anxiety at the dentist office, but it makes sense that Mark is so essential here in that context. He is the refiner that can’t be fired because to really get Gemma back to Gemma, we need situations that will stimulate her from the life they shared. They have a general idea of where her old tempers were, I think because they measure it in the blood. And they had a lot of access to Gemma medically before her accident. She went to Lumon blood drives. She went to the Lumon fertility treatment, where that doctor who worked on this hell floor was seen in the background. I’m guessing they believe they have an idea of her “tempers” pre-death because of that.

This also lends itself to a late stage Uno reverse from Cobel or Helena, trying to get Mark on their side. Hell, it might late stage be the only reason Mark finishes the goddamned Cold Harbor file.

Because we’ve seen how tortured Gemma is right now, so in our heads, right now, it seems like nothing could make us sympathize with these crazy evil folks. Makes us hate Lumon drones we’d come to like, like Milchik and Cobel and Helena afresh. But what if Gemma really was dead before all this? What if she really was a barely breathing corpse when they started this work on her? It wasn’t their right to take her body, but now she is back and she is her

If you hear, Milchik, Cobel, and them really are so devoted to this company because they’re working on bringing people to perfect health with a health framework that is so superior it can bring people back from death, you want to say that they’re deranged and wrong, but ignoring whatever got them into the company in the first place, what about what they’ve potentially seen with Gemma? Maybe it’s still wrong to be so cruel, but if you’ve really seen this company bring someone back from death to essentially herself, wouldn’t that inspire your devotion? Wouldn’t you think you should probably toughen up as opposed to getting out? Wouldn’t you be a little reverent? Wouldn’t you have committed to breaking society’s rules already? And if you wouldn’t be, can’t you imagine someone else being so? Like that is wild. Cobel has been in this company since she was a child and now she’s literally a part of them doing one of the most miraculous things anyone ever said she was crazy to believe they could do.

This also puts Cobel’s obsession with Mark and his family into perspective, because it’s not just screening things for a sign he might get away, keeping control of the situation, a weird sense that she’s entitled to be close to him- it was also originally probably a recommended route to getting more info on Gemma. How many times did Selvig bring cookies for Mark and gently coax him until he told her stories about Gemma? How many pictures did she pull up and ask questions about? How many little pieces of furniture, like the candle, did she steal, to help personalize Gemma’s experiences further? How much info did she get from getting to know Ricken and Devon?

Also, another thing about Helena, which is just occurring to me as I write this- I’m thinking back to early season 1. When we still don’t know her full identity, but we see her side of her first day at Lumon.

I originally attributed this to them being unsure what they were going to do so early on, but I’ll say, Helena seems genuinely happy and pleased when we see her side on the outside of her first day severed.

Nowadays, when we see her in the outside, she’s cold and reserved, in large part I think because the experience has gone so wrong. And I think people have just written off that early episode as just them keeping her behavior vague- she’s being polite, going through the motions. Based on her behavior now, we might think she never wanted to be severed in the first place, was always forced.

But I think of like, when they show her smiling and talking about it, almost nerding out while they’re doing the procedure. Nervous, but genuinely a bit excited. And what is there to be excited about? You’re not gonna remember what goes on. I don’t take anything she said for the videos at that party in the finale as real.

But this theory, about the Kier cult and balancing tempers for health purposes? I think that really makes it make sense.

Helena was raised in all this, and she seems to scoff at some parts of it. I’d say it’s implied on some level, she knows it’s bullshit. She is stressed and firmly denies she needs to go to the tempers balancing doctor after Irving tries to drown her. She starts giggling at the dramatic story about Kier masturbating. It very much seems like she doesn’t drink her own Kool Aid.

So, if shes really just a business mind in all this, not a real spiritual believer, I think she’s excited to be severed because she’s stuck in this system. Every time something in her life happens to her- she gets hurt, she gets attacked, she undergoes a traumatic experience- she gets sent into the waking nightmare of the doctors who dig into your psyche and rebalance your tempers. What they’re doing to Gemma, without Severance. Torture. She’s an Eagan, it’s not supposed to bother her, she of all people is supposed to be superior, but she fucking hates it with all of her being.

So she is excited to be severed because it represents finally not having to fucking deal with that.

She is ready and willing because before Helly, she saw severance as her way out of hell. Her way to finally create a Dieter she didn’t have to deal with. To not experience them carefully crafting experiences to torture her in the name of “rebalancing her tempers.” Severance was finally going to let her compartmentalize all the shit she couldn’t stand about being an Eagan and focus on being herself. Everything she’d been taught about it said she didn’t need to worry about Innies, they weren’t people.

But then she takes the severed job- and Helly keeps trying to run out the floor. She threatens to cut off Helena’s fingers. Helena is supposed to walk in the elevator and come out never knowing more than an echo of Helly’s pain- and one day she walks in the elevator, and the next moment she’s being hanged.

So her hopeful little smiles before going in are just gone. She still feels trapped. She never wants Helly triggered again, I highly doubt she wants to create a system of others. But of course, she’s still an Eagan, and she has to still finish the realization of Kier’s wishes, and they still have a woman nearly brought back to life in their sub-basement. And they still want Helena Eagan’s severance as a publicity stunt.

So yeah. I think we’re going to find that Gemma DID die in that car accident, and was brought back to life using an extreme combination of Kiers principles and balancing of the tempers, a process which she can only handle mentally because the parts of her dealing with the individual bits of the torture are severed off.

Mark’s contributions in unconsciously creating the rooms are essential because they need to make sure her tempers are balanced back to the way Gemma originally had them. I’m not sure exactly what the Cold Harbor file is, but once the room is done and used, Gemma will be “completely” brought back. And Lumon intends to use this as proof to the world that the Rebalancing of the Tempers is the cure for everything, as Kier always said.

[bradleysass]

Pretend - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 804

“Sirius, can we pretend to be close brothers for once?”

Sirius is halfway through lighting a cigarette when he hears the words. His fingers slip, the flame flickers out, and he turns, finding Regulus standing stiffly in the doorway of Grimmauld Place’s decrepit kitchen.

His first instinct is to say something sharp. Something about how pretending implies they aren’t, in some way, still brothers, and how that’s just so like Regulus—to act like their bond is a lie rather than something broken. But there’s something in Regulus’ voice. Not cold. Not resigned. Just... tired.

So Sirius just leans back against the counter, flicking the lighter open again but not igniting it. “Alright,” he says after a pause. “What do close brothers do?”

Regulus shifts his weight like he’s second-guessing this whole thing. But then he takes a step forward. “They talk.”

Sirius snorts. “Well, we’re already doing better than we did as kids.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but doesn’t retreat, which Sirius counts as a win. He gestures to the chair across from him. Regulus sits, looking down at his hands like he’s about to confess a crime.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Is this where you tell me you’ve been secretly killing people in your spare time? Because I have to say, that would be—”

“James,” Regulus blurts out.

Sirius freezes. Then he groans, tipping his head back. “Oh, come on.”

Regulus tenses. “Forget it.”

“No, no, you dragged me into this,” Sirius says, rubbing his temples. “I thought this was going to be about existential dread or Mum’s voice in your head or, I don’t know, how much you secretly love the family tapestry. But James?”

Regulus scowls. “Never mind.”

“Nope, we’re doing this. Close brothers, remember?” Sirius leans forward, leveling him with a look. “What about James?”

Regulus exhales sharply. He’s gripping his own wrist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He doesn’t answer immediately, but Sirius is patient, for once.

“…I don’t know what to do with it,” Regulus finally mutters.

Sirius’ brows furrow. “With what?”

Regulus flicks his eyes up to him, and suddenly Sirius understands.

“Oh,” he says, exhaling. Then, “Oh.”

Regulus clenches his jaw. “Say something.”

Sirius whistles low. “Well, first of all, ew.”

Regulus glares.

“I’m just saying, ew because it’s James.” Sirius holds up his hands. “But alright. Let’s be serious—no pun intended.” He leans on the table. “Are we talking can’t stand him but think about him all the time kind of thing, or I have written his name in my diary kind of thing?”

Regulus scowls. “I don’t have a diary.”

Sirius smirks. “So the first one, then.”

Regulus stays silent, but his fingers flex like he wants to hex something. Which, for Regulus, is as good as a confession.

Sirius lets out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, well, here’s the thing. James is… James. He’s loud, he’s ridiculous, he’s frustratingly kind, and worst of all—he’ll probably love you for it.”

Regulus flinches. “That’s the problem.”

Sirius studies him, then lets out a quiet oh. Because of course that’s the problem. Regulus has never known what to do with people who care about him. He was raised in a home where love was conditional, where affection was earned, and now he’s faced with James Potter—who loves so recklessly, so freely—and it terrifies him.

Sirius softens. “Reggie.”

Regulus glares at the nickname, but Sirius ignores it.

“I know it’s scary,” Sirius says, more serious now. “But you don’t have to earn it. He’s not a test you can fail. He just—loves. And for some gods-forsaken reason, it looks like you’re on the receiving end of that.”

Regulus swallows. “I don’t know how to…” He trails off, frustrated. “I’m not like you.”

Sirius scoffs. “Oh, thank Merlin. If there were two of me, the world would be in flames.”

Regulus gives him a flat look.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Look, you don’t have to be me. You don’t have to be anyone but you. And if James likes that—you let him.”

Regulus exhales through his nose, still looking unconvinced.

Sirius leans back, smirking. “And if you ever break his heart, I get to kick your arse.”

Regulus lets out a quiet, reluctant huff. “I’d like to see you try.”

Sirius grins. “See? We’re already getting the brother thing down.”

Regulus shakes his head, but there’s something lighter in his expression. He stands up, nodding once. “Thanks.”

Sirius nods back. “Anytime.”

Regulus turns to leave, pausing only once at the door. “And Sirius?”

“Hm?”

Regulus hesitates. Then—so quietly Sirius almost doesn’t catch it—he says, “You don’t have to pretend.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Sirius staring after him, cigarette long forgotten.

For once, Sirius doesn’t feel the need to say anything.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hey i see your request are open so could i ask for any characters of your choice with a s/o that has a strong battle lust like no matter the situation they if they see something or someone they think is strong or scary enough they just go “lets kill it” anyway thank you for making content its people like you who get me through the day don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to love your stuff keep it up!

Them with a reader that wants to fight everything

characters: Eula / Keqing / Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I gotta recover those character banners I used back in the day...

Anyway, thanks for the request and the kind words, they mean a lot and I hope you enjoy!

Eula

Eula has had to work with more people than she could recall over the years, some of them more tolerable than others, whether it was due to their personalities or work ethic. And yet you still managed to rank amongst the most exhausting companions she ever had to work besides.

It wasn’t your personality – she could count the times you got into any kind of conflicts with your squadmates on one hand – nor was there any kind of definition she could use to call your work ethic lacking. If anything… it was the complete opposite.

Having to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed after charging headfirst into battle was tedious enough, and yet it weren’t just Lavachurls and other kinds of monstrous beasts that regularly drew your lust for battle.

“Please, Eula. Just one Punch!” You begged like a little child that was told their parents wouldn’t buy that one toy that they had set their minds on for them, trying your damnedest to wiggle out of her grip. And yet to no avail, as shoulders remained in her tight grip.

If she didn’t know better, Eula would think you were the one that had spent their evening drinking their frustrations away, and not her. If it were anyone other than you, she’d at least try to tell you to calm down, that strangers judging her for her heritage was nothing new for her, and yet considering it was you, she doubted it would have made any difference whether the tall big guy in front of you hadn’t insulted her or not.

Sure, you seemed agitated enough while listening to him talk, but it had only been after he challenged you to a fight that you had tried jumping at him with the excitement of a dog chasing his favourite toy.

Not that you ever got the chance to strike, having your arms used to pull you back the same way one would use the leash on a dog the moment before your feet took off. Nor did you have to punch anyone, as your lack of even a sliver of hesitation and lust for battle alone did enough to drive anyone stupid enough to challenge you away.

“No! We can go search for hilichurl camps tomorrow, sit down!”

Eula didn’t even expect that to work. And yet the moment those words left her mouth you were sitting on the bench as if nothing had ever happened.

Keqing

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The Guardman’s voice echoed out, staring accusatory daggers into you as he tried to catch his breath from having to run all the way here, the footsteps of his companions trailing not far behind him as you immediately raised your arms in a show of peace.

“They tried to hurt each other”, you gestured to the several bandits lying around the grassfield, none of them showing any signs of consciousness, although each of them were still clearly alive.

“But, I’m a peaceful person, I don't do things like that.” As those words flew past your lips, Keqing’s eyes locked with the guard’s.

The two of you had been on a small errand, when a group of treasure hoarders had ambushed you just outside the city’s view, each of them large in stature and looking threatening in their own right, before demanding your goods and mora.

Not wanting to use unnecessary violence, Keqing had just started to try and resolve the conflict with words when you had suddenly kicked one of them with enough force to have him roll down the hill, letting out a war cry best described as ‘unhinged’ before literally picking up the smallest of them and throwing him as if competing in a sport.

By the time the Yuheng stopped blinking at you in utter surprise and sprang into action, all of the bandits had either been knocked out cold or were running for the mountains.

It was… an experience.

“Everything I did, I did in self defense.” You added in a tone that almost made it seem you were sad you had to resort to violence in the first place. 

…She doubted you were. There weren’t all too many pacifists she knew that had a war cry ready at a moment's notice.

“Miss Keqing, you’ve seen the scene play out, I presume? Is it the truth?” The Guard asked her now, the Yuheng’s eyes widening in surprise for a brief moment as she hesitated to answer for a moment before doing so with confidence.

“Considering they did ambush us, I would call it self defense as well.”

Just like that, the two of you were free to go. But while you no longer had anything to explain to the Guards, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to have a discussion about this.

Clorinde

There weren’t many people that would willingly challenge Clorinde to a fight, most of her potential opponents fled or decided to get sentenced instead of duelling her. Not that she could blame them. The number of human fighters in Fontaine that could stand their ground against her could be counted on one hand.

And then… there were you. Always challenging her to fights whenever you could, only to get rejected each and every time. 

Work and private life didn’t mix for Clorinde. You were part of her private life, while duelling was work. She was more than happy enough to have you join her and the others playing games or to indulge you in your hobbies, but duelling? That was out of the question.

Not like her rejections impacted your determination in any way though. You’d still continue asking.

Today was a day to celebrate. Not for Clorinde’s sake, the woman only begrudgingly let you and Navia celebrate her birthday after all, but for yours. Celebrating other peoples’ birthdays or achievements was something entirely different, especially if it were those of people close to her. And yet considering what had led you here in the first place, Clorinde found it difficult to decide whether to congratulate or chide you.

“Congratulations on your promotion. Navia baked some macrons for you when she heard the news”, The woman with a small box of the sweets in her hand, only to pull it away just in time to dodge the hand of yours that reached out to grab it.

“Playing with a wounded officer’s feelings? You’re too cruel, Clorinde”, you pretended to be disappointed in her, only to quickly smile at her, using the momentary distraction to try grabbing the sweets once again.

“And how exactly were you wounded?” She asked in her usual stoic voice as she dodged your hand once again, already knowing the answer to her question.

“By valiantly trying to protect a member of the community.” You declared before trying to strike a pose, only to hiss in pain as you moved your injured arm.

Considering you did manage to help catch a wanted criminal, Clorinde decided not to add insult to injury, leaving out her comment about how she seriously doubted it was the potential victim that caused you to lunch at the criminal and not just the thrill of the fight, letting out a small sigh before placing Navia’s gift in front of you, only to watch you inhale them within moments.

“Clorinde, let's have a duel tomorrow”, you stated in between your bites, only for your movements to come to a grinding halt the moment you heard a dry chuckle escape her lips.

“I’m not going to duel an injured person.”

Almost immediately, Clorinde wished she had phrased that statement differently, as your eyes lit up with almost childlike excitement.

“So you’re alright with duelling me once I’ve recovered?!”

[bananahkim]

Jentry Chau OC! She’s a dokkaebi and I haven’t named her yet so we’ll just call her K. She used to be an axe about 200 years ago.

She/her, looks like she’s in her early 20s, talks like she’s in her 30s~60s. 5’5~6’0(the weather affects her height), 90~100kg. Unlabeled for now.

Very straightforward, serious, and will slice you with her words. She values efficiency and doesn’t have time for Ed’s antics. Ed keeps challenging her to prove that he’s the scarier and more powerful demon. He hasn’t won yet.

Strengths

Physically strong. She’s very heavy and it’s like she’s made of steel. Her body temperature easily changes as well. It’s cold to the touch most of the time.

Has a magical bat that produces gold coins and other good stuff if she swings it. It can fix things… and can also kill people. She rarely uses it.

Is good at playing games and winning. Almost any game. Wrestling, squid game, spinning tops, sports, trivia games… she won’t break a sweat while doing so.

Weaknesses

Her only weak spot is her left leg. No one is able to take her down in a fight or a game unless they attack her left leg.

Too honest. Doesn’t lie to others whether or not they try to deceive her. Surprisingly naïve and got exploited by others in the past.

Hates blood!!! Get that shit away from her. It’s kind of ironic that she used to be an axe.

Trivia

She’s nocturnal and mostly appears at night in weird places.

Don’t touch her horns, they’re basically two blades of steel. She sometimes sharpens them(Ed thinks it’s cool. He sometimes looks at his reflection on her horns)

Hates the stereotypical image of dokkaebis that look like huge scary red man with horns, a leopard print thong, and malicious intent!!! Hates it with a passion. That’s an oni not a dokkaebi!!!!!

Used to have a hat that helps her blend with humans but somebody burned it.

[chaos-element]

I’ve been thinking about replying to this all week, @bringthekaos! I can’t believe I made your whole year! You made me really happy by writing MH Viktor, so it’s wonderful to know I was able to return the favor :)

Your research into League lore clearly paid off! Though I imagine it was also a bit of a nightmare to make sense of, especially Viktor’s, since Riot’s never been very consistent in their portrayals of him (I’m not salty about it, I swear. I’m a perfectly sane adult that’s never been tilted by League before, promise! …cough). Anyway! “Bitter divorced dad energy” killed me XD. League Jayce can be boiled down to Steampunk Tony Stark. Except Riot forgot to give him Tony’s heart of gold or capacity for introspection, so he’s just an ass most of the time. (Ironically, the comic that botched Viktor more than anything else Riot’s done happens to perfectly capture Jayce - you can read his bit here). But yeah, good call to lean into Talis over Gio. Talis has a lot more depth and character development, and a much better basis for a relationship with Viktor; Gio is more of a meme than a person lol. Still, it was neat to see how you incorporated some very Gio moments into your Divorce Era fics, so thank you for that! (I started replying to the part about how you wish they’d kept the Machine Herald and you’re salty, because damn do I have a lot to say about that subject! Gestures to mountain of salt behind them. But that got out of control SO fast and probably deserves its own post lol)... Especially since they teased it so well in the first half of S1 of Arcane! And they even snuck in some League easter eggs in the Hexclaw scene! (The claw having a mind of its own! Lasering poros!) And! And! --unintelligible angry cave man noises …ahem. Yuss, this is the way! One of the things I love about fandoms is there’s always room for more. Just because Riot decided to replace our dear metal man with… something that doesn’t really match Arcane Viktor tbh, doesn’t mean he can’t live on! (Thanks again for helping to make sure he does). And I am not a writer, so take this with a grain of salt, but is it important to have the sequel match the same format as the original? Could it not be a collection of short stories or scenes, and then if you feel like it later, you could write more to stitch them all together? I’m glad you liked writing Renata! Always fun to have a good bad guy. Tbh I ended up reading her lore for the first time after finishing Pulse, and I think you wrote her well too! (She came out a few years after I stopped playing League and therefore caring about new champ releases). Though idk who Ama is? I’m bad with names, and there’s a lot I don’t remember about League lore (tbf to me, there’s a lot of crazy in there). But I love this idea (the Stitch reference is also perfect)! Metal weirdo science man rumored to experiment on people, outwardly projects intimidating mechanical-Vulcan vibes, does the violent bidding of a real scary lady? Friend-shaped. Innately understood to be soft and squishy on the inside - in that way that children see through bullshit - and must now fend off attempts at friendship? Amazing. Beautiful. Chef kiss. Can’t wait!

Hey! Just wanted to say that I'm loving your Divorce Era fics! Finished Pulse of the Machine a bit ago and I'm working my way through the rest. You do such a great job of blending all versions of Viktor's lore - OG, 2016, Arcane - into something that feels natural, exciting, and so very Viktor! And you even managed to incorporate some of the more controversial aspects of his 2016 lore while still maintaining his characterization! (something Riot chose to sacrifice for the sake of establishing the general feel of League's factions). As someone who played League for years and loved OG Viktor, it's so nice to see his pre-Arcane elements being included in the Jayvik community. Your work has been so fun to read, and just- Aaaaaaaah!! Words are failing me! Thank you for sharing your work with all of us! P.S. I hope you do decide to make a sequel to Pulse, since you've set it up so nicely for one! (How do they free Viktor from his condition? What is Renata going to do with that Hexcore-harvested plant venom? What shenanigans do Cait and Vi get up to on their Council-ordered leave? (Love how you write those two together too!))

So sorry this took me so long to answer, but I was literally speechless. Just… thank you so much!!! This means so much to me! I’ve still never played League, I only got into all of this in ‘21 when season 1 came out, but I really did fall in love with Viktor’s (and Jayce’s!) game lore, and did my best to learn all about it! There are elements of both that I love (for instance I adore Talis and lean a little more heavily toward Talis than Gio, but I do still love Gio and his bitter divorced dad energy). And I kinda just melded the two together in a way that I hoped was smooth and genuine, and to know that I succeeded? From someone who has been following the lore long before I ever got here?? It makes me wanna break down and cry with gratitude. I really do wish they had kept the Machine Herald, and I’m still salty about it. And for a while, I was super depressed thinking I could never again write MH because he doesn’t exist anymore.

But then I decided that he’s mine now, haha. I will keep him alive by continuing to write him. Which leads me to the second portion of your ask! I still would love to write a sequel to Pulse, I did have some plot bunnies marinating in my head for it, but I never really solidified it. It was more just a collection of scenes than a fully fleshed out plot. But hopefully one day!! I loved writing Renata, and I would actually also love to work in Naph and Ama, if possible. I’m obsessed with the idea that both those kids took one look at this fucked up, emotionally repressed and lonely asshole and basically did this…

Fucking priceless.

Anyhoo, thank you again for such kind words, you made my whole year already and it’s only February! 💖

[ciderjacks]

I made this bc I feel like I actually love horror more than most people it’s just that most horror movies think they need to kill characters off or it’s not scary, which ironically actually usually means the movie is way less scary

[clegfly]

Finally got caught up with TADC and to no one’s surprise I’m now uncontrollably sobbing over the tragic doomed loving couple

[crucifixcavity]

watched

[capobegone]

Hello everybody! I think some of my posts may have reached a wee bit of the wrong audience and I just wanted to remind everybody to please please please do lots of research and

FREE FUCKING PALESTINE🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[hsslilly-blog]

claire’s father 100% knows it was sebastian who told claire’s mother about the affair (because who else would have been? claire?). and sebastian knows he knows too.

[wilted]

iwas gonna write a really long reply to this but it’s kind of a “make your own post” thing so… but i truly don’t understand why pitbulls are the main focus of any “aggressive dog” conversation. dobermans, german shepards, and rottweilers are just as intimidating and “scary” but nobody ever bats an eye at the way those dogs behave or how their owners “trained” them because they’re seen as “protector” dogs and their aggression is therefore justified. dogs behavior lies solely on the owner. you have to be a specific type of person to own these dogs, you have to have a specific type of personality to match these dogs, that’s why so many pit bulls are seen as aggressive, when in reality they are just extremely untrained because their owners don’t want to put in the extra effort to make sure their dog isn’t a complete lunatic wherever it goes. pitbulls are great dogs. they are sweet and loving and extremely well behaved if they are just trained correctly by someone who is actually informed and has actually done their research on the breed. but unfortunately people will continue to have these dogs “for the aesthetic” and continue to be the reason these poor dogs have this stigma around them

[grudgecollector]

I find it so funny when people say Nam-gyu is the scariest character of the season when In-ho is literally right there

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, hyrbid au, hybrid auction, sex trafficking, suicidal ideations, dystopian laws, subjugation

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Clientele

It’s scary being a bunny hybrid—especially in a world where all natural prey is bred and raised like livestock, then handpicked and auctioned off to society's apex predators.

But then again, that’s been reality all your life.

If the choice were up to you, you’d stay at the farm and become a womb for breeders. Granted, they’re a bit intense, but rabbit bucks aren’t so bad. You would spend your days cozy in the hay, barefooted and messy-haired, with other fellow herbivores—all the cows, mares, ewes, and does out on the pasture, kept safe and far removed from the belly of the beast—free to live out your days never once having to lay your round eyes on an apex at all. 

But such wasn’t your luck...

Of course, you could have fought. But fighting back is never a good idea—you never know if and when they could decide to send you to the slaughterhouse to make rabbit stew out of you instead— keep your fur to make a coat or carpet. They’ll have better use of you that way than they will with a misbehaving pet, after all.

You think about ending it yourself once you’re sitting in your cage listening to the speaker announce a heifer. That’s how the auction goes—typical farm animals first, other domestic species, then wilder exotic ones. 

In an ill-thought way, you wish you were an exotic breed—something with wings or something they’d have to keep in an aquarium—all in all, something a little harder to come by than being a rodent. Rabbits are cute, but they’re a dime a dozen and are usually sold to those who don’t feel like spending too much—trigger-happy hunter types who’re looking for cheap toys that are easily broken and just as easily replaced.

You swallow thickly. Better yet, you wish you were a bigger badder herbivore that required respect—like an elephant or a rhino. No one would mess with you then. 

But there’s no point in mulling over what you’re not. You’re prey. That’s just how it is.

But who knows? Maybe it won’t be so bad. You’ve seen someone come back to the farm after being auctioned. She’d lost an ear and could no longer speak, but other than that, she was alive and well…

You reconsider killing yourself. Suppose, the only thing keeping you from going through with it is the option of doing it later if and when it actually proves to be as bad as you imagine. You’ve never been good at making such decisions. Must be that prey mentality.

“Up next, we have a mini lop bunny,” the speaker announces, and you feel your cage move, carrying you into the spotlight where you can only see bright red eyes glaring back at you. You immediately look away.

“Known for their long ears, button nose, and round eyes—not to mention their docile nature. As one of the most popular bunny breeds on the market, mini lops are a house pet staple. Believe it or not, they’re also intelligent and social, thriving on attention, whether that be playing games or cuddling—making them the perfect choice to anyone in want of a domestic companion or a pet toy.”

You sniffle—crying and shivering, curling yourself up in a little ball within your cage, making yourself as small as possible, hiding from the predatory glares you feel surrounding you. You’ve only seen a handful of carnivores before—the shepherd dog that herds the flock back home being the biggest one. You’ve heard wolves are twice the size. Maybe you’ll be lucky and have a heart attack right now before any one of them can make their bids.

But then it starts. One number after the other. It feels over in the blink of an eye.

“Sold!” the speaker calls. “To the fine grizzly gentleman on table nine.”

Your eyes peel from being sealed shut, staring intently at your lap where you sit with your knees tucked to your chest—frozen and tense and teetering on passing out from lack of breath. Grizzly? You gulp with a swallowed whimper. Did you hear that right? As in bear? 

“No-” You suddenly understand the point of the chains that had been fixed around your ankles and wrists—given they were the only thing keeping you from thrashing against the bars—breaths hitching as you felt the cage being reeled away to make space for the next one up.

A blanket is thrown over your enclosure, engulfing you in pitch dark before you’re carried off and placed down somewhere. The floor shakes beneath you after a small moment. Something purring underfoot. It feels a little different from the carriage you’re used to but you think you’re being moved.

It’s an hour or so until you feel it come to a halt, at which point your cage is picked up and carried off again, then placed down a few moments later.

You can’t see it, but you can smell it in the air—something dangerous. It must be him. The bear that bought you.

You shield yourself once the drape is lifted and you’re exposed to the light again, squealing, “Please, mister—please don’t eat me. I only eat grass—I wouldn't taste good. And- and—I wouldn’t be very filling anyway–” while trembling underneath the shadow of the apex predator before you.

Your jumping heart was expecting nothing short of instant death, though that’s not what ensued. Instead, there’s an unfamiliar sound. A rumbling. Almost like a growl. It takes a while before you recognize it as laughter. 

“Shh, bunny,” the bear chuckles. “Don’t worry—I have no intention of eating you.”

He crouches down before your cage, though still big enough to tower over it. 

“After all,” he says. “There would be little point in spending so much on something only so bite-sized.”

Your eyes flicker to his paw, where it jingles with something. 

It’s a key.

“How about we get you out of that cage? Those shackles don’t look pleasant. I’ll remove them for you.” He unlocks the gate and swings it open, leaving you room to crawl out.

You don’t know if you should. On the one hand, the cage is keeping you safe, but on the other hand, you doubt you can stay in it forever. And who knows what might happen to his seemingly gracious mood if you refuse him.

“D’you—” It’s a silly question, but you don’t know what else to say. “You promise?”

He makes that sound again. Humored by you, it would seem. “Yes, Bunny, I promise.”

You decide to come out and only feel smaller for it, now exposed. But he keeps his promise, removing your shackles. Your eyes are peeled as he does, watching his claws be so close to you. Thick, long, curled, and black. They would puncture your skin and tear into your meat like it were nothing. You go goosefleshed at the thought.

“They always do these so tight…” he sighs. “Utterly unnecessary for domestic species such as yourself.”

You look up at him at that. He’s done this before, which must mean… “Do you—do you have others?” Or has he had others? Meaning… he doesn’t plan on keeping you around for long. 

It’s funny how that overwhelming urge to run makes you go completely numb.

Meanwhile, he looks at you in silence. Surprised at your observation, perhaps, but then he smiles, fangs and all, and you nearly skitter back into your cage.

“You’re quite astute.” Again, he rumbles with a laugh. Then he stands and walks off, setting your cuffs down on a dresser.

You only now realize you’re in a bedroom, of all places.

“I suppose there’s no use in beating around the bush.” He turns around again and leans back against the drawers, arms folded upon his broad chest as he starts explaining, “I run an entertainment business—a fun house of sorts—you might call it a burrow, as my staff is exclusively made up of bunny rabbits such as yourself.”

A burrow? Like back home? Why would a bear be doing that?

“From now on, you’ll work for me. You’ll be trained in the arts of hospitality and pleasure and cater to a clientele of sophisticated apex predators such as myself.”

Hospitality and pleasure? It almost sounds like he means for carnivores to breed with you… But that would be ridiculous. What would be the point? It’s not as if you can carry other litters but kits anyway.

“You look confused,” he chuckles again. “Allow me to explain.” He pushes himself off the dresser. “Unlike most other mammals, bunnies don’t go into heat. No, instead, bunnies are, in many ways, in a state of permanent mating season—which makes you ideal for my intents and purposes.���

You’re not sure you understand what he’s implying. But you’re growing more certain you don’t like it…

“Moreover, bunnies are any hunter’s natural prey,” he continues while walking back toward you. “Making you the perfect meal to fulfill any customer's appetite.”

He pushes the gate of the cage closed, and it clicks back in place, now locked for good and no longer an option of escape, however poor.

“Not to mention…” He smiles again, and this time, you really wish you had a place to hide. “Bunnies are natural sluts.” He crouches back down, closer now, and curls his black claw up under your chin. “All you want is to be fed and bred all day, then fall sound asleep come night.”

You swallow thickly. Your question answered. 

“And since you seem to be a smart cookie. I suppose there’d be little point in waiting."

He removes his tie.

"So, let’s start your training right away.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Aiku ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Chrollo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth” - Violence, Violent Imagery & Black Horror

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, violence, blood, hate crimes, antiblackness, police violence, rape

Note! I am going to be speaking from a Black American point of view, as my identity informs my experience. That said, antiblackness itself is international. The idea of my Blackness as a threat, as a source of fear and violence to repress and to destroy, is something every Black person in the world that has ever dealt with white supremacy has experienced.

There are two things, I think, that are important to note as we start this conversation.

One: there is a long history of violence towards Black bodies that is due to our dehumanization. People do not care for the killing of a mouse in the way they care about a human. But if you think the people you are dealing with are not people, but animals- more particularly, pests, something distasteful- then you will be able to rationalize treating them as such.

Two: even though we live in a time period where that overt belief of Blackness as inhuman is less likely, we must recognize that there are centuries of belief behind this concept; centuries of arguments and actions that cement in our minds that a certain amount of violence towards Blackness is normal. That subconscious belief you may hold is steeped in centuries of effort to convince you of it without even questioning it. And because of this very real re-enforcement of desensitization, naturally another place this will manifest itself is in how we tell and comprehend stories.

There are also three points I'm about to make first- not the only three that can ever be made, but the ones that stand out the most to me when we talk about violence with Black characters:

One: Your Black readers may experience that scene you wrote differently than you meant anyone to, just because our history may change our perspective on what’s happening.

Two: The idea that Black characters and people deserve the pain they are experiencing.

Three: The disbelief or dismissal of the pain of Black characters and people.

You Better Start Believing In Ghost Stories- You’re In One

I don’t need to tell Black viewers scary fairytales of sadists, body snatchers and noncoincidental disappearances, cannibals, monsters appearing in the night, and dystopian, unjust systems that bury people alive- real life suffices! We recognize the symbolism because we’ve seen real demons.

Some real examples of familiar, terrifying stories that feel like drama, but are real experiences:

12 Years a Slave: “This is no fiction, no exaggeration. If I have failed in anything, it has been in presenting to the reader too prominently the bright side of the picture. I doubt not hundreds have been as unfortunate as myself; that hundreds of free citizens have been kidnapped and sold into slavery, and are at this moment wearing out their lives on plantations in Texas and Louisiana.” – Solomon Northup

When They See Us: I can’t get myself to watch When They See Us, because I learned about the actual trial of the Central Park Five- now the Exonerated Five- in my undergrad program. Five teen Black and brown boys, subjected to racist and cruel policing and vilification in the media- from Donald Trump calling for their deaths in the newspaper, to being imprisoned under what the Clintons deemed a generation of “superpredators” during a “tough on crime” administration. And as audacious as it is to say, as Solomon Northup explained, they were fortunate. The average Black person funneled into the prison system doesn’t get the opportunity to make it back out redeemed or exonerated, because the system is designed to capture and keep them there regardless of their innocence or guilt. Their lives are irreparably changed; they are forever trapped.

Jasper, Texas: Learning about the vicious, gruesome murder of James Byrd Jr, was horrific- and that was just the movie. No matter how “community comes together” everyone tells that story, the reality is that there are people who will beat you, drag you chained down a gravel road for three miles as your body shreds away until you are decapitated, and leave your mangled body in front of a Black church to send a message… Because you’re Black and they hate you. To date I am scared when I’m walking and I see trucks passing me, and don’t let them have the American or the Confederate flag on them. Even Ahmaud Arbery, all he was doing was jogging in his hometown, and white men from out of town decided he should be murdered for that.

Do you want to know what all of these men and boys, from 1841 to 2020, had in common? What they did to warrant what happened to them? Being outside while Black. Some might call it “wrong place wrong time”, but the reality is that there is no “right place”. Sonya Massey, Breonna Taylor- murdered inside their home. Where else can you be, if the danger has every right to barge inside? There is no “safe”.

It is already Frightening to live while Black- not because being Black is inherently frightening, but because our society has made it horrific to do so. But that leads into my next point:

“They Shouldn’t Have Resisted”

Think of all the videos of assaulted and murdered Black people from police violence. If you can stomach going into the comments- which I don’t, anymore- you’ll see this classic comment of hate in the thousands, twisting your stomach into knots:

“if they obeyed the officer, if they didn’t resist, this wouldn’t have happened”

Another way our punitive society normalizes itself is via the idea of respectability politics; the idea that “if you are Good, if you do what you are Supposed to do, you will not be hurt- I will not have to hurt you”. Therefore, if my people are always suffering violence, it must be because we are Bad. And in a society that is already less gracious to Black people, that is more likely to think we are less human, that we are innately bad and must earn the right to be exceptional… the use of excessive violence towards me must be the natural outcome. “If your people weren’t more likely to be criminals, there wouldn’t be the need to be suspicious of you”- that is the way our society has taught us to frame these interactions, placing the blame for our own victimization on us.

Sidebar: I would highly suggest reading The New Jim Crow, written in 2010 by Michelle Alexander, to see how this mentality helps tie into large scale criminalization and mass incarceration, and how the cycle is purposely perpetuated.

You have to constantly be aware of how you look, walk and talk- and even then, that won’t be enough to save you if the time comes. The turning point for me, personally, was the murder of Sandra Bland. If she could be educated, beautiful, a beacon of her community, be everything a “Good” Black person is supposed to be… and still be murdered via police violence, they can kill any of us. And that’s a very terrifying thought- that anything at any point can be the reason for your death, and it will be validated because someone thinks you shouldn’t have “been that way”. And that way has far less to do with what you did, than it does who you are. Being “that way” is Black.

My point is, if this belief is so normalized in real life about violence on Black bodies- that somehow, we must have done something to deserve this- what makes you think that this belief does not affect how you comprehend Black people suffering in stories?

Hippocratic Oath

Human experimentation? Vivisection? Organ stealing? Begging for medicine? Dramatically bleeding out? Not trusting just anyone to see that you are hurt, because they might take advantage? All very real fears. The idea that pain is normal for Black people is especially rampant in the healthcare field, where ideas like our melanin making our skin thick enough to feel less pain (no), an overblown fear of ‘drug misuse’, and believing we are overexaggerating our pain makes many Black people being unwilling to trust the healthcare system. And it comes down to this thought:

If you think that I feel less pain, you will allow me to suffer long before you believe that I am in pain.

I was psychologically spiraling I was in so much pain after my wisdom teeth removal, and my surgeon was more concerned about “addiction to the medication”. Only because Hot Chocolate’s mom is a nurse, did I get an effective medicine schedule. My mother ended up with jaw rot because her surgeon outright claimed that she didn’t believe that she was in more than the ‘healing’ pain after her wisdom teeth were removed. She also has a gigantic, macabre (and awesome fr) scar on her stomach from a c-section she received after four days of labor attempting to have me… all because she was too poor and too Black to afford better doctors who wouldn’t have dismissed her struggles to push.

As a major example of dismissed Black pain: let’s discuss the mortality rate of Black women during childbirth, as well as the likelihood of our children to die. When we say “they will let you bleed to death”, we mean it.

“Black women have the highest maternal mortality rate in the United States — 69.9 per 100,000 live births for 2021, almost three times the rate for white women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Black babies are more likely to die, and also far more likely to be born prematurely, setting the stage for health issues that could follow them through their lives.”

Even gynecology roots in dismissal (and taking brutal advantage of) Black women's pain:

“The history of this particular medical branch … it begins on a slave farm in Alabama,” Owens said. “The advancement of obstetrics and gynecology had such an intimate relationship with slavery, and was literally built on the wounds of Black women.” Reproductive surgeries that were experimental at the time, like cesarean sections, were commonly performed on enslaved Black women. Physicians like the once-heralded J. Marion Sims, an Alabama doctor many call the “father of gynecology,” performed torturous surgical experiments on enslaved Black women in the 1840s without anesthesia. And well after the abolition of slavery, hospitals performed unnecessary hysterectomies on Black women, and eugenics programs sterilized them.”

If you think Black characters are not in pain, or that they’re overexaggerating, you’re more likely to be okay with them suffering more in comparison to those whose pain you take more seriously- to those you believe.

What’s My Point?

My point is that whatever terrifying scene you think you’re writing, whatever violent whump scenario you think you’re about to put your Black characters through, there’s a chance it has probably happened and was treated as nonimportant (damn shame, right?) And when those terrifying scenes are both written and read, the way their suffering will be felt depends on how much you as a reader care, how much you believe they are suffering.

There’s a joke amongst readers of color that many dystopian tales are tales of “what happened if white people experienced things that the rest of us have already been put through?” Think concepts like alien invasion and mass eradication of the existing population- you may think of that as an action flick, meanwhile peoples globally have suffered colonization for centuries. The Handmaid’s Tale- forced birthing and raising of “someone else’s” children, always subject to sexual harassment by the Master while subject to hate from the Mistress- that’s just being a Mammy.

There’s nothing wrong with having Black characters be violent or deal with violence, especially in a story where every character is going through shit. That is not the problem! What I am trying to tell you, though, is to be aware that certain violent imagery is going to evoke familiarity in Black viewers. And if I as a Black viewer see my very real traumas treated as entertainment fodder- or worse, dismissed- by the narrative and other viewers, I will probably not want to consume that piece of media anymore. I will also question the intentions and the beliefs of the people who treat said traumas so callously. Now, if that’s not something you care about, that’s on you! But for people who do care, it is something we need to make sure we are catching before we do it.

“So I just can’t write anything?!”

Stop that. There are plenty of examples of stories containing horror and violence with Black characters. There’s an entire genre of us telling our own stories, using the same violence as symbolism. I’m not telling you “no” (least not always). I’m telling you to take some consideration when you write the things that you do. There’s nothing wrong about writing your Black characters being violent or experiencing violence. But there is a difference between making it narratively relevant, and thoughtlessly using them as a “spook”, a stereotypical scary Black person, or a punching bag, especially in a way that may invoke certain trauma.

The Black Guy Dies First

The joke is that we never survive these horror movies because we either wouldn’t be there to begin with, or because we would make better decisions and the narrative can’t have that. But the reality is just that a lot of writers find Black characters- Black people- expendable in comparison to their white counterparts, and it shows. More of a “here, damn” sort of character, not worth investment and easy to shrug off. The book itself I haven’t read, just because it’s pretty new, but I’m looking forward to doing so. But from the summaries, it goes into horror media history and how Black characters have fared in these stories, as well as how that connects to the society those characters were written in. I.e., a thorough version of this lesson.

Instead, I wrote an entire list of questions you could possibly ask yourself involving violence or villainy involving a Black character. Feel free to print it and put it on your wall where you write if you have to! I cannot stress enough that asking yourself questions like these are good both for your creation and just… being less antiblack in general when you consume media.

Black Horror/Black Thriller

We, too, have turned our violent experiences into stories. I continue to highly suggest watching our films and reading our stories to see how we convey our fear, our terror, our violence and our pain. There are plenty of stories that work- Get Out, The Angry Black Girl and her Monster, Candyman, Lovecraft Country (the show) and Nanny are some examples. There’s even a blog by the co-writer of The Black Guy Dies First who runs BlackHorrorMovies where he reviews horror movies from throughout the decades.

Desiree Evans has a great essay, We Need Black Horror More Than Ever, that gets into why this genre is so creative and effective, that I think says what I have to say better than I could.

“Even before Peele, Black horror had a rich literary lineage going back to the folklore of Africa and its Diaspora. Stories of haints, witches, curses, and magic of all kinds can be found in the folktales collected by author and anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston and in the folktales retold by acclaimed children’s book author Virginia Hamilton. One of my earliest childhood literary memories is being entranced by Hamilton’s The House of Dies Drear and Patricia McKissack’s children’s book classic The Dark-Thirty: Southern Tales of the Supernatural, both examples of the ways Black authors have tapped into Black history along with our rich ghostlore.” “Black horror can be clever and subversive, allowing Black writers to move against racist tropes, to reconfigure who stands at the center of a story, and to shift the focus from the dominant narrative to that which is hidden, submerged. To ask: what happens when the group that was Othered, gets to tell their side of the story?”

For on the nose simplicity, I’m going to use hood classic Tales From The Hood (1994) as an example of how violence can be integrated into Black horror tales. Tales From The Hood is like… The Twilight Zone by Black people. Messages discussing issues in our community, done through a mystical twist. Free on Tubi! If you want to stop here before some spoilers, it’s an hour and a half. A great time!

In the first story, a Black political activist is murdered by the cops. The scene is reflective of the real-world efforts to discredit and even murder activists speaking out against police violence, as well as the types of things done to criminalize Black citizens for capture. The song Strange Fruit plays in the background, to drive the point home that this is a lynching.

The second story deals with a Black little boy experiencing abuse in the home, drawing a green monster to show his teacher why he’s covered in wounds and is lashing out at school.

The fourth story is about a gangbanger who undergoes “behavioral modification” to be released from prison early. Think of the classic scene from A Clockwork Orange. He must watch as imagery of the Klan and of happy whites lynching Black bodies (real-life pictures and video, mind you!) play into his mind alongside gang violence.

Isn’t Violence Stereotypical or antiblack?

That last story from Tales From The Hood leads into a good point. It can be! But it does not have to be! Violence is a human experience. By suggesting we don’t experience it or commit it, you would be denying everything I’ve just spoken about. We don’t have to be racist to write our Black characters in violent situations. We also don’t have to comprehend those situations through a racist lens.

Even experiences that seem “stereotypical” do not have to be comprehended that way. I get a LOT of questions about if something is stereotypical, and my response is always that it depends on the writing!!! You could give me a harmless prompt and it becomes the most racist story ever once you leave my inbox. But you could give me a “stereotypical” prompt and it be genuine writing.

Let’s take the movie Juice for example. Juice in my honest to God opinion becomes a thriller about halfway in. On its surface, Juice looks like bad Black boys shooting and cursing and doing things they aren’t supposed to be doing! Incredibly stereotypical- violent young thugs. You might think, “you shouldn’t write something like this- you’re telling everyone this is what your community is like”. First- there’s that respectability politics again! Just because something is not a “respectable” story does not mean it doesn’t need to be told!

But if we’re actually paying attention, what we’re looking at is four young boys dealing with their environment in different ways. All four of them originally stick together to feel power amongst their brotherhood as they all act tough and discover their own identities. They are not perfect, but they are still kids. In this environment, to be tough, to be strong, you do the things that they are doing. You run from cops, you steal from stores, you mess with all the girls and talk shit and wave weapons. That’s what makes you “big”. That’s what gives you the “juice”- and the “juice” can make you untouchable.

I want to focus particularly on Bishop, yes, played by Tupac. Bishop, the antagonist of Juice, is particularly powerless, angry, and scared of the world around him. He puts on a big front of bravado, yelling, cursing, and talking big because he’s tired of being afraid, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it otherwise. So when he gets access to a gun- to power- he quickly spirals out of control. His response to his fear is to wave around a tool that makes him feel stronger, that stops the things that scare him from scaring him.

Now, that is not a unique tale! That is a tale that any race could write about, particularly young white men with gun violence! If you ever cared for Fairuza Balk’s character in The Craft, it is a similar fall from grace. But because it is on a young, Black man in the hood, audiences are less likely to empathize with Bishop. And granted, Bishop is unhinged! But many a white character has been, and is not shoved into a stereotype that white people cannot escape from!

Now would I be comfortable if a nonblack person attempted to write a narrative like Juice? Yes, because I’d worry about the tendency to lose the messaging and just fall into stereotype outright. But it can be done! The story can be told!

“But if Black violence bad, why rap?”

The short answer:

“In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political, I must listen to the birds, and in order to hear the birds, the warplanes must be silent.”

Marwhan Makhoul, Palestinian Poet

First, rap is not “only violence and misogyny”. Step your understanding of the genre up; there are plenty of options outside of the mainstream that don’t discuss those things. Second, every genre of music has mainstream popular songs about vice and sin. The idea that Black rappers have to be held to a higher standard is yet another example of how we are seen as inherently bad and must prove ourselves good. We could speak about nothing but drugs and alcohol and 1) there would still be white artists who do the very same and 2) we would still deserve to be treated like humans.

That said, many- not all- rappers rap about violence for the same reason Billy Joel wrote We Didn’t Start the Fire, the same reason Homer first spoke The Iliad- because they have something to say about it! They stand in a long tradition of people using poetry and rhythm to tell stories. Rap is an art of storytelling!

Rap is often used as an expression of frustration and righteous anger against a system built to keep us trapped within it. I’m not allowed to be angry? Why wouldn’t I be angry? Anger is a protective emotion, often when one feels helpless. Young Black people also began to reclaim and glorify the violence they lived in within their music, to take pride in their survival and in their success in a world that otherwise wanted them to fail. If I think the world fights against me no matter what I do, I’d rather live in pride than in shame with a bent head. Is it right? Maybe, maybe not. But if you don’t want them to rap about violence, why not alleviate the things leading to the violence in their environment?

Whether you choose to listen to their words, because the delivery scares you- and trust, angry Black men scared the music industry and society- doesn’t make the story any less valid!

Conclusion

I am going to drop a classic by Slick Rick called Children’s Story. I think listening to it- and I mean genuinely listening- summarizes what I’ve said here about how Black creators can tell stories, even violent ones, and how even the delivery through Blackness can change how you perceive them. Please take the time to listen before continuing.

I’ve been alive for 28 years and have known this song my whole life, and it just hit me tonight: not once is the kid in this story identified as Black! My perception of this story was completely altered by my own experiences, who told the story, and how it was told.

That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You can tell stories of violence that involve Black characters. I love and adore a good hurt/comfort myself! But you need to be cognizant of your audience and how they’ll perceive the story you’re telling, and that includes the types of imagery you include. It’s not effective catharsis via hurt/comfort for the audience if your Black readers are being completely left out of the comfort. “I wrote this for myself” that’s cool, but… if you wrote racism for yourself, and you’re willing to admit that to yourself, that’s on you. I’d like to think that’s not your intention! You can write these stories of woe and pain without mistreating your Black characters- but that requires knowing and acknowledging when and how you’re doing that!

@afropiscesism makes a solid point in this post: our horror stories are not just fairytales full of amorphous boogiemen meant to teach lessons. Racial violence is very real, very alive, and we cannot act like the things we write can be dismissed outright as “oh well it’s not real”. Sure, those characters aren’t real. But the way you feel about Black bodies and violence is, and often it can slip into your writing as a pattern without you even realizing it. Be willing to get uncomfortable and check yourself on this as you write, as well as noticing it in other works!

If you’re constantly thinking “I would never do this”, you’ll never stop yourself when you inevitably do! If you know what violent imagery can be evoked, you can utilize it or avoid it altogether- but only if you’re willing to get honest about it. You might not intend to do any of this, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t change the pattern, because as always, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[obsesssedblerd]

“SATORU!!!” 

Your white-haired boyfriend pops around the corner. “Yes? Why on earth are you screaming?” 

You fearfully point at the roach scampering up the living room wall, nervously hiding behind him. “That.” 

“Uh...What am I looking at here?” 

“Oh, don’t act— the bug, Toru!” You yell. “You mean to tell me that you can’t see that thing with your Six Eyes?!” 

Satoru lifts his blindfold, then looks back and forth between you and the insect. A wide, incredulous smile spreads across his face. “No way,” he snickers, then bursts into loud laughter. “That tiny little thing?! Baby, you exorcize curses daily, but this is what you’re afraid of?!” You stare at him blankly as he leans against the wall, breathless from laughing. Oh, my god, this is too funny.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you just kill it, please?”

He sighs dramatically, then pokes your cheek. “Sure, I’ll take care of the big scary bug,” he mocks, and you curse underneath your breath as he walks closer to the wall. 

“Satoru—you better not do anything stupid,” you warn him. You know that he enjoys playing jokes, and you would be stupid to think that he wouldn’t bring the insect to you to scare you even more.

“Oh, relax. Why don’t you go to the room since you’re so scared?” 

You bite back any insults, and then go all the way down the hall. There, you find your other boyfriend, Suguru, who had rushed out of the bathroom, his hair wet from the shower. “Heard you scream. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I saw a bug in the living room, but Satoru’s taking care of it.” You reach up to push a wet strand of hair out of his face. “You can head back and finish up. By the way, for dinner, I was thinking—” 

“HOLY SHIT!!!” 

You and Suguru see the burst of crimson light from the living room before the loud explosion fills your ears. The house shakes, and both of you stumble to the ground. When everything settles, Suguru helps you up, then you both rush to the living room. 

What’s left of the living room. 

The wall is completely gone, and where there isn’t rubble from the house, there are bits and pieces of your furniture. From where you’re standing, you can see some of the neighbors begin to poke their heads out of their doors and windows, wondering what the explosion was. Then, you see Satoru, who is wide-eyed, and slightly trembling. 

Suguru is the first to break the silence. “What the hell just happened?!” 

Satoru’s chest rises and falls with each breath. He then turns to you, pointing at where the wall used to be. “You didn’t tell me that it flies.” 

“...Huh?!” You ask.

“What- Don’t ‘huh’ me!” He sputters, flailing his hands around. “The roach! You didn’t tell me that it flies! It scared the shit out of me! It was so unexpected!!” 

Finally, the only thing that could’ve happened clicks in your head. The light you saw, the blast. “Did you just fire Red?!” 

He crosses his arms. “Yes, I fired Red!! Didn’t you just hear me say that—” 

“Okay, both of you, just stop!” Suguru shouts, putting his hands up. “Just…” He then faces his boyfriend, disbelief and disappointment evident in his features. “You mean to tell me, that you blew a massive hole in our damn house all because of a roach?! Satoru, what the hell!!” 

“Suguru, it was flying!!” 

“So that’s a good reason to destroy our house?!” 

“Hey! At least it’s not the whole house,” he says, then laughs nervously when Suguru glares at him. “Like yeah, our TV is definitely gone, but, uh… at least the roach is dead?” 

“You fucking idiot!!” Suguru snaps. 

Satoru snaps right back at him. “You weren’t there to see how it was flying!” 

As they go back and forth with their yelling, you groan, burying your face into your hands. You definitely should’ve just found the strength to kill it with a shoe earlier.

----

a/n: got inspired by that post about spiders that i made lmaooooo