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You want an example of finding fandom antiblackness in the wild, OUTSIDE of Tumblr? I get TVL updates because I watch the trailers, and one of the "original Anne Rice" fans was talking about why she didn't like the new series. And one of the things she did was make a decent argument that it should have been an original series.
But one line just sent me into hysterics as I realized that I was back in KKKaren territory.
"Changing Louis from a reluctant slave owner to a willful pimp alters him from a tragic Byronic anti-hero caught in a net of despair, to a strong willed black man who willing sells women for profit. Again, a fascinating story, but not Louis’s."
RELUCTANT SLAVE OWNER.
WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE VALUE OF THE NARRATIVE OF A RELUCTANT SLAVE OWNER 🤣🤣🤣🤣 that poor poor owner of human beings who feels so bad about it 🤣 bruh. I'm sorry. Like. No please, actually. I dont think that between the Black man running a brothel, and a white man who owns human beings, that the one who owns human beings is the one whose perspective I should value equally 🤣
Also, "strong willed" is crazy when you consider all the bullshit Louis has let slide 😭 like this entire argument is racist in and of itself (as if Louis too, is not tragic and caught in a web of despair in everything he goes through, diminished down to an Angry Black Pimp in this white woman's eyes) but to suggest that somehow I'm supposed to feel more sorry... For the slave owner... OKAY! Sometimes character analysis... Is incorrect and racist...
It's the #wickedwomenauthor, btw. The content creator who shared this tiktok.
Funniest thing is, other people's comments disagreeing for this creator's media illiteracy got to stay, but I was IMMEDIATELY unable to comment because I IMPLIED that I knew what we were dealing with. 🤣😭
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People talk shit about Troi's position but frankly I would want at least one person trained in some sort of mental healthcare on a deep space vessel. That crew gets traumatized on the weekly and you think a counsellor isn't a necessity???
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Rain tapped against the roof of your home, the soft sound would have helped you sleep on any other day, but not tonight.
Tonight, sleeping was impossible.
Your newborn son was crying again. The sound was loud, but constant, his little cries filling every corner of the house. You were lying under the thick furs, instinctively trying to sit up.
The moment you moved, pain shot through your body. A fever had settled over you two days ago, leaving you weak, dizzy, and barely able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time. The healer had assured both you and Kwei that you would recover, but your body needed rest.
Rest.
It was the one thing you could not seem to have. Before you could force yourself to sit up, a hand rested against your shoulder.
“No. You stay.”
“Our son…”
“I know.”
“You do not know how to…” You looked at him with tired eyes. This was not his duty by Yautja law. It was yours.
“I will learn.” His answer left no room for argument, law or not.
He pulled the fur back over your shoulders, tucking it around you before getting out of the nest.
Your eyes followed his every move.
Your enormous husband, the one feared by countless warriors, respected throughout the clan, moved toward a cradle no bigger than one of his hunting packs.
The baby cried harder. Kwei frowned.
“I am here.”
His deep voice filled the room. Nothing changed. The crying only grew louder. He carefully lifted your son into his arms. It looked almost ridiculous, the size of Kwei’s hands compared to the tiny body he held so carefully.
“There.” The crying continued. “You are safe.”
But your son was still crying. Kwei adjusted his hold. He had seen you cradle the baby countless times. He tried copying you.
Didn’t work.
“Our little hunter.” The baby screamed. Kwei blinked. “…You are not hunting.”
More crying.
He glanced helplessly toward the nest. You were watching him with half-open eyes. He looked back at the baby.
“I have defeated creatures larger than this house. I once fought three warriors. You are a lot more difficult.”
He checked the blanket. Dry. He reached for the bottle.
The baby refused it.
He paced.
Still crying.
He bounced him gently.
More crying.
Every solution he knew failed. His breathing grew slower. Not because he was calm. Because he was trying very hard not to panic.
He had faced death. He had watched hunters fall beside him. He had stood against creatures that could tear him apart. None of those moments had made his heart race like this. Because he understood battle. He did not understand this.
“Kwei…”
Your voice was barely more than a whisper. He turned immediately.
“I think…” You smiled weakly. “He wants you closer.”
“I am holding him.”
“You are.” You patted the place beside you. “Come here.”
Kwei sat on the edge of the nest, still holding the crying baby. You shifted with obvious effort, every movement making him wince more than it seemed to hurt you.
“You should rest.”
“I will.”
You reached out slowly.
“May I?”
He carefully lowered the baby, the little one immediately stretched his tiny hands toward you.
“There you are.”
The baby quieted slightly. Not completely, but enough.
“You smell different from me. He knows your scent too, but mine has been with him since before he was born.”
Kwei watched closely.
“He remembers?”
“He does.” You rested one gentle hand over the baby’s back. “But…” You looked at Kwei. “…he needs to learn yours too.”
Kwei remained completely still.
“What do I do?”
“Talk to him.”
“I have.”
“Not like you would speak to another hunter.” A tiny laugh escaped you. “Speak to him like he is your son.”
Kwei looked down. The baby had grown quieter, though little sniffles still escaped him. He hesitated, then spoke again. His voice had changed.
It was no longer the commanding tone he used with warriors, it wasn’t filled the certainty he carried into every hunt.
What remained was something gentle.
“My little one.” The baby blinked. “I know you are upset.”
His large thumb brushed against the baby’s tiny hand.
“I do not know why. But I am trying.” Your heart melted. “I have never done this before.”
The confession came so quietly you almost missed it.
“I know how to hunt. I know how to fight. I know how to protect. But this…” His eyes lifted to yours for only a moment. “…this is much harder.”
“You are doing wonderfully.” You smiled warmly.
“I am failing.”
“You are learning.”
“Is there a difference?”
“There is every difference.” You reached over, laying your hand gently against his arm. “He does not need perfection. He only needs his father.”
The baby made another tiny sound.
Not a cry. A sigh.
Kwei looked down. His son had curled one small hand around one of Kwei’s fingers. Holding on with all the strength his tiny body possessed. This action caused Kwei to freeze.
“He…”
Your smile widened.
“He chose you.”
The little grip tightened, Kwei swallowed.
“I have held spears with less determination.”
You laughed a little and for several long minutes, neither of you spoke.
The baby slowly drifted back to sleep, his breathing evening out against Kwei’s chest. The room became peaceful once more. Only the rain and the fire remained. Kwei continued looking down at his sleeping son.
“I was afraid.”
The admission was almost swallowed by the crackling flames. You turned your head toward him.
“Afraid?”
He nodded once.
“When he cried… I believed something was wrong.”
“You checked everything.”
“I did.”
“And when none of it helped…” His shoulders lowered slightly. “I could not fix it.”
There was frustration in his voice.
Helplessness.
“I have spent my life believing that every problem could be solved. A sharper blade.A better plan. A stronger arm.” He looked at your son. “None of those things matter to him.”
“No. You protected him tonight.”
“I did not stop him crying.”
“You stayed. You kept trying. You loved him through it.”
“So that is enough?”
“It is more than enough.”
Kwei let out a long breath, shaking his head with the smallest smile.
“I believed becoming a father would be similar to hunting.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“You did?”
“Hunting is considerably easier.”
“I could have told you that.” you laughed.
“I would not have believed you.”
“I know.”
“I believe you now.”
Still smiling, you rested your head against his shoulder, watching your son sleep peacefully between you. For the first time since your fever began, you did not feel alone. And for the first time since becoming a father, Kwei understood that not every victory came from knowing exactly what to do.
Sometimes, it came from refusing to give up until the people you loved finally felt safe enough to rest.
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