#and i dont just mean My time. My times great but Pale Machine and Every day are amazing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solarianradiance · 6 years

Text

Black Romance

The Black Quadrant of Troll Romance intrigues me to no end, and makes my thoughts churn like a creative slurry in a bucket, wandering what exactly its like under long term circumstances, the little intricacies of unwritten rules and expectations to be found within this sort of relationship.

How did it even first occur? What in Troll biology cause it to be a such a strong fixture in their social culture?

Perhaps these questions will be answered one day... probably in a way that makes me wish they hadn't and force me to moan like a lil bitch in disappointment.

We can only speculate for now however... which is what im going to do.

In its history, Black Romance likely started as a genuine desire to kill a rival, likely over the feelings of the same Matesprite, but unable to do so, in spite of the genuinely serious trying at mutual murder, only to find they dont mind each other so much, even if they dont like many other aspects about them~

Even though they try to kill their rival they actually begin to make one another as strong as possible through constant conflict. Like two Knights sharpening their skills in a friendly sparing match. After all, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Given Troll society, they likely take this notion to heart.

Through this rivalry, their partner is made as strong as possible, so they may live to see each other again another day.

I think, in my opinion, a Black Romance is a relationship born of Hate and Irritation, but evolves into a genuine mutual love and respect.

It starts as Hate, but becomes Love over time.

They may start in opposite directions, but they ultimately end up in the same place.

Any actual pain inflicted upon your rival is to make them dulled and numb to that pain. Makes them ready to deal with it mentally. Their weak traits being absolved or mitigated to some extent, and their strengths expanded and reinforced.

The individuals, sharpen each others knives for their partners to use one another, so that they may also sharpen their skills, ensuring that they are both full prepared for the trials ahead.

A Black Romance usually revolves around the two partners actually trying to hurt and injure one another, both verbally and physically, but not cripple, maim or kill their opponent. Its the two trying to Dominate, but not so thoroughly as they cannot grow as individuals. To remove the blemishes in their techniques, working out the kinks in execution.

Blackroms must have times of bonding and enjoyment, a break from the conflict, to relieve stress... by ♠any♠means♠necessary♠~

This often revolves around the two Haters tending to eachothers wounds, and enjoying the typical Red Romance activities, like dinner and a movie, albeit with a side of snark, super sized. Probably poisoning their partners meal, just enough for them to get an upset stomach and vomit over it all.

Signs of affection take the forms of hand holding, kissing, and small levels of antagonisms such as harmless insults or mild scuffles. One method is manipulation to encourage romantic retaliations, such as stealing clothes, pranking their rival, or even publicly humiliating them in way that will embarrass them but wont destroy their standing or self-esteem.

Anything that gets under their skin without causing permanent harm goes and one must always be on guard and never show signs of weakness or reveal any information to their kismesis, lest they use this against their partner.

One sign of devotion in a relationship is wearing the colors of your partner. In the case of a Matesprit, its their favorite color.

In the case of a Kismesis, its their blood color, or at least a color they may hate.

All relationships are born of trust, but for a Kismesissitude, it is far more important, for they must both understand they are not trying to kill eachother while trying to wound one another.

A good sign of trust is allowing your Kismesis to wear your clothes with minimal reservation, as they probably wont destroy it outright, but probably will at least modify it, such as dying it another color.

This trust is what is crucial for it to succeed, they have to try and hurt without killing. And due to nature of the relationship, they try to one up each other constantly.

Stabbing someone in the arm may result in them cutting off your hand in response.

This often results in the one of them killing their partner kind of unintentionally while being caught up in a whirlwind of passionate hatred~

Sometimes in bed even.

These bouts of hate filled fighting can spill over into society at large, causing damage and injury to others and their property.

This is why the Auspices were founded~

The importance of the Auspice in a Black Romance is critical, for they serve as the referees, and prevent the relationship from getting out of hand. The loss of one or both individuals can be devastating to the group, especially if they’re of great standing and use to said group. Losing your own members to themselves is embarrassing to say the least.

They at minimum, keep the two individuals focused, preventing them from getting embroiled in their bitter dark chocolate freakishness, and having them stay civil as well as decent in public.

Anyone can be an Auspice, be they a passing stranger, or a concerned friend. But many Auspices are more permanent fixtures, usually one party members current Moirail or Matesprite.

But most often, it is normally a third party that is a mutual friend, that aides in keeping things from getting out of hand. A platonic friend that can help cool the flames and calm the storms, so the ship will not sink.

But Not All Ashenroms Are Platonic~

Some Are Polyamourous Relationships Where The individuals Engage in Mutually Consenting Frivolity In Their Own Various Ways, Be They ♥Flushed♣Or♣Pitched♠ And Can Vary On The Individuals Involved, Creating A Sort Of Menagerie Of Earthly Delights, One Could Compare To A Candy Store With A Wide Variety Of Sugary Treats To Suit Every Taste~~~

Which Makes Such Relationships Quite Appealing To Most People~

However, there are times when someone is Auspicing for their own selfish desires. Attempts may be done by the Auspice to change the nature of the relationship, and pull an individual into another Quadrant.

This is why they are known to be “Meddlers”, and prolonged Ashroms are rare, especially when they dont make it to the bedroom.

When they do make it in, its normally so the two individuals can pail and the 3rd party ensures they dont kill one another and nothing more. Once completed, the relationship may continue or end.

If an Auspice doesn't know what they are doing, they may be unable to keep up and be ineffective, or even make the situation worse.

But in the case that an Auspice does succeed, and pays their cards right, everyone can have a grand old time together, creating a rare instance where more than two individuals has a well balanced Romance with variety.

Black Romance often ends in two rivals breaking apart, either they cant handle the stress or one of them dies, usually at the hands of their partner. Or one of them simply gets bored, and doesn't feel fulfilled like they once were.

A Black Romance is after all, based in enthusiastic engagement, and it is not unusual for the relationship to end in mutual separation.

But there are times when one side loses the romantic aspect, and the hate turns true and genuine, and kills their partner on purpose.

There are even instances of cruel situations where one partner is manipulating their other for dark machinations.

Machinations that are Darker than Black

Abuse does often occur, but a proper Pitched relationship has consent, subtext and subtle hints giving expressing desires, and when fulfilled, there is aftercare, wounds are dressed, and reminders that there is affection. Should a deed go too far, a boundary overstepped, a true Kismesis will in one way or another, express regret and remorse over a transgression.

Transgression may include overly controlling behavior, emotionally isolating them, direct harm with intent to cripple or kill, engaging in a relationship with your Kismesis’s actual enemies who want to kill them, destroying what is valued and cant be replaced and manipulating them for personal gains at their permanent expense, especially when they cant afford it.

A Kismesis cares for their partners feelings and well being, and a good one goes out of their way to ensure they are secure and safe, even when having fun.

An abuser does not.

But then there are the very rare instances, where Kismesissitude is so strong and so stable and healthy between partners, that they seemingly end up in the same place as a end of a Flushed romance.

A truly loving rivalry, whose only goal in it, is the joy of having it.

When it happens, its like Black Magic.

The two seem to engage in bantering and mutual antagonism, yet its clear they’re enjoying each other in the act. Vacillating between Red, Black and Pale all within moments.

Should a Black Romantic Couple reach this level, they stay together simply because they love being together.

Marriage exists within Troll society, though it is rare, especially when its outside ones blood caste.

Black Marriages are particularly rare, as the process of getting Hate Married is rather intense.

A proposal involves biting off eachothers right ring finger and swallowing it. Which is pretty hardcore if you ask me.

Which turned out to be too hardcore, which was phased out for simply biting a wound into their partners finger instead

youtube

Which was also phased out as it was a custom from a time before oral hygiene was a thing, people died due to infection.

Afterwords it became a case of merely scaring, then branding, then finally tattooing in your fiance’s sign in their blood color on your right ring finger.

A simple wedding ring is also acceptable, usually some cheap metal, like a Black iron ring.

Finally, the two tell each other a special secret about one another, usually something quite humiliating, as a means of making blackmail, so that either one wants to declare a divorce, they simply air their others dirty laundry.

#blackrom #black romance #Spade #ashrom #ashen romance #johnrezi #terezi pyrope #john egbert #homestuck #hiveswap

47 notes · View notes

cafephan · 7 years

Text

the danny situation/explaining my hatred of april 1st

okay here’s a post i never thought i’d be typing up. i can count on one hand with fingers to spare, how many people know this story, and none of them are family members or anyone i have any form of contact with anymore. yet here i am sharing it with the internet, but i feel like i need to articulate it and note it down somewhere rather than still trying to repress it even years later when it’s clearly not working and recently it keeps coming to haunt me more than ever

just a pre-warning some of you are going to think i’m pathetic for this still affecting me and will think it’s no big deal and it’s not worth posting about but i think it’s important for myself to finally just write it all down, judge me if you want i’ve gotten enough of it before

so, i’m wildly unattractive, i don’t feel as if i have to prove that to anyone. and if highschool movies have taught us anything about the typical ugly girl, what is it? that they always end up crushing on the cute guy (obviously this is a cliche movie trope and doesn’t apply to real life except it did to me, very much so).

i considered changing his name for the purpose of this, but no like what’s the point. his name was danny and he was in my form group for the duration of the five years of secondary school, meaning we saw each other every day. he was also in my maths group (shout out to other people in set three, forever average) and little old me just used to fawn over him and not so subtly stare at him the entire time. though, having no friends, nobody was there to call me out on it, which looking back is both a blessing and a curse.

like i said, i’m wildly unattractive now, so take a moment to imagine me in 2008. puppy fat aplenty, the chubbiest cheeks you ever did see and resting bitch face (which still hasn’t left me). i was a mess. but i saw danny as some kind of god - which he definitely wasn’t, i hate myself for ever thinking that lmao - and though i was always terrified to try and strike up conversation, it never stopped me smiling whenever he looked my way (we were only one person apart in the register too which helped in assemblies) and the odd times he did the polite thing and smiled back i would practically melt on the spot.

the not so subtle crushing continued for four years, which takes us to our second-to-last year of secondary school. for some reason i had been forced to do a resistant materials gcse because i was apparently in ‘the cream of the crop’ in my year group throughout the past years’ DT (design and technology) classes, and still to this day i have no fucking idea why they put me in there because all i did was use the sanding machine. but anyway, DT god danny was also on the course, and he noticed me struggling with literally every part of it that wasn’t done on computers and took to helping me with little tasks alongside his own projects and unsurprisingly i was internally screaming because oh my god our hands just brushed on the desk vice and other cringeworthy shit like that which i’ve probably used in an early fic or two. there’s nothing more really to note on that year just remember that he started being nice then. another thing worth saying is that this is the year i started to wear a bit of makeup and when i came to maths class one day with pale eyeshadow on, he said that he didn’t like it and so i never wore it again (you should never change yourself for anyone, if something makes you feel good then you keep doing it okay, you dont need anyone else’s validation, i just wish younger kirsten knew and believed that)

the year after is where things happen so it’s late february 2013, and i came home from my grandparents’ house to find a new message in my facebook inbox. without being dramatic because this literally happened, i swear my breath caught in my throat because danny had just messaged me saying ‘hey babe’ i remember it distinctly, and i squealed into a pillow. i replied immediately, then flopped back on my bed wondering why this had happened, there’s never been anything appealing about me either in appearance or personality, so the reason why was a mystery, but i was so wrapped up in being completely head over heels heart eyes i didn’t really give it a second thought, because he replied a second or two later with another pet name.

these casual messages with petnames continued all through march and stupidly i started saying petnames back (which in itself is a reason to repress this whole thing), and on march 31st we were chatting and suddenly he says ‘can we skype tomorrow?’ and i literally cried, i was so happy. i’d heard girls in school talking about skyping with boys and a small very petty part of me wanted to be one of them and i felt as if i just might have the chance. obviously i said yes and we both logged off.

aaaaaaaand around rolls april 1st. the lovely lovely holiday of april fools day. what a fucking delight.

i’m sure you can see where this is going, right?

so i dressed up nice and waited for the skype call to come through, and when it does i desperately try to calm myself down, and look to the ground and take deep breaths. my blood ran cold when i heard multiple boys’ laughter coming from the other end of the call. there were six of them, including danny.

without even addressing i was there (obviously they knew i was there) they started reading out the messages that it turns out they had been taking turns to send to me from his account, and put on a really high pitched voice reading my responses.

(sidenote: i’m genuinely crying right now as i write this i’m sorry if there’s any typos from now on my vision’s gone blurry)

when they finally finished - i don’t know why i didn’t end the fucking call myself, i was just frozen out of fear and embarrassment and mortification i guess - they all burst into laughter, danny laughing probably the loudest. i was crying, and i opened my mouth to say something, but i was crying too heavily. this caused them to laugh louder, and one of them said “and even now she can’t fucking say anything, freak.” they laugh again and one of danny’s friends leaned in close to the webcam. “did you honestly think he liked you?” he asked, and i stupidly nodded, because at some point i’d let myself believe it, again because i had no friends to tell me how stupid and dodgy the whole thing was.

then his friend went back and danny himself leaned in close. “april fools” he said with a horrible grin and blew a kiss to the webcam before the call ended, and i. fucking. lost. it.

still to this day, i don’t think i ever cried that much. i had panic attack after panic attack, i didn’t get any sleep, and nothing could calm me down. it still holds the top spot of worst night of my life, and trust me it’s had many many challengers for that title since.

the next day, because i shut myself off from the internet that night, i woke up to three new facebook messages. from three of his friends who were on the call with him. ‘happy april fools, sweetheart’ one of them said, ‘i can’t believe you thought you had any chance with him lol nice try darling’ said another, and the final read ‘just kill yourself already. babe’. all petnames ‘danny’ used at one point.

so that is the reason i beg you all to not send any form of prank on april fools day to me. because it brings back the memory of that. every april 1st i cry myself to sleep, and though i know you all mean well, any involvement with that holiday, no matter how small, sets me off.

this incident is the reason i couldn’t accept compliments in the early days, long time followers will remember, i’m sure. this incident is the reason i’ve not been able to have crushes on anyone. i’ve never let myself because in the back of my mind i’m always worrying things will turn out the same way. if i start to feel anything for anyone i back away and leave them alone completely. this incident is the reason i struggle to form friendships. tied in with the bullying and the fact i had no friends to teach me what friendship was, naturally.

in case you were wondering, danny’s engaged now, he’s happy. i think i saw on facebook they’re trying for a baby. which is good for them, but i can’t help but feel like it’s not fair. he’s off playing happy families and living life whilst i’m still here suffering from a stupid fucking prank when he knew full well i was crushing on him.

it was only three years ago, so i suppose it’s understandable, and i’m in a much better place with myself now than i was which helps, but it’s something that’s really etched itself into my brain and is still affecting me to a certain degree. i feel like now i’ve typed it all up, i might be able to sleep easy, it does feel as if a huge weight has been lifted. plus, i think i’ve made allusions to this story before various times but none of you pried about it which i really appreciate, you’re all so incredibly lovely and i can’t thank you enough.

so there’s the danny story and the reason i hate april fools’ day.

if you read this far, then thank you, and if you think i’m overreacting still, you’re more than entitled to your opinion, i’ve been judged on many things before and what’s one more to add to the list by this point.

i love you all very much and hope you have a great rest of your day and i’m sorry if this dampened anyone’s mood in any way. i hope this has given you a little more insight to me, i don’t know why it would’ve but who knows. sorry.

#*deep breath* okay #personal

65 notes · View notes

mulliganisms · 7 years

Text

I saw 3 sips then I had a bells

Nothing beats the old fashioned pub especially an Irish one but they are now virtually extinct. We should share pictures of property developers jangling their keys outside of closed boozers on Facebook to shame them. Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, one such pub open on a Christmas night -the key to a great holiday for Himself. Himself has to get out Christmas night- his sire, Aulfella was always rearing up, undoing the hard work of Mam. Aulfella was capable of loving or hating anything at any given, depending on his temper. He hid his good moods in the same place as his money - under the carpet in the front room, reaching for them both when he was on his way to Da pub or da club.

Your best guess as to the name of a pub where the Provisional IRA paper An Phoblacht was sold openly, tricolours decorated the wall and the jukebox featured anti -internment hit The Men Behind The Wire? The Crown of course ( I always add upside down as a nod to the Celtic FC halftime favourite Irish Soldier Laddie) For Himself the test of a decent Irish bar is the Guinness - you can tell a decent pint when you can see mark of each sip on the side of the glass. I offer three swallows for you this season - let’s start with a huge, thirsty gulp.

Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, a proper Irish pub The Crown. Himself is there with his first proper girlfriend - Dixie. They are deep into their relationship having met across a crowded home and wear department in Tesco Chapel Market. I’m Not In Love played, his hands on her waist and...breathe (exhale loudly. A glance down at the gap left between the skin of her back and the waistband of the Wranglers reveals a possible future of bliss - the white bra strap shining in the UV light. ..a reverie...were these the hips that turned a thousand faces and burnt red these cheeks of Islington? A small cry escapes her lips - Sorry love - those plastic sandals are harder to manoeuvre than the Green Flash I normally wear for dancing.

Mam was of a somewhat sunnier frame of mind - where she hid when depression struck we never did find out though Himself and Dabrudders found most of her hiding places. In earlier years, Accomodation was an old store of some kind affectionately known as the shop. Upstairs one bedroom,with two bunk beds and a cot a sitting room with a pull down bed and a stereogram. Downstairs a shop floor with building gear covered in dust sheets, a kitchen with coal fired stove leading out to a yard. The toilet was reached by a run through a coal cellar sometimes fast, sometimes slow ,,, record time on return from a camping trip in Youghal which included The Return of Dracula one night (rather lax enforcement of X certificate in Ireland) and waking next morning to discover the tent had been pitched beside a slaughterhouse - sheep skulls stretched out in greater numbers as the tide retreated from the stony atlantic shore.

In the cupboard in this dungeon was where the Christmas presents were hid - and played with/ sometimes ruined long before the day. Mam commented on the odd angle of the crossbar on the subbuteo goals - a few years later we could’ve blamed the Tartan army saying it was a souvenir set of Wembley 77. Himself just used a Swan vesta and Mam’s hairnet to repair it (the onion bag not being to scale).

The shop went as part of slum clearance, as did most of the other condemned buildings. Himself and his moved into the renovated Victorian terrace - into the nineteen seventies - bathrooms and central heating , into the peak of Equality in the UK. The new neighbours’ eldest worked part time at Tesco Chapel Market and through this network Himself impressed enough at interview to collar a role packing cheese and butter then progressing to staffing the Deli counter in a double act with younger brother Seamus. Union membership guaranteed good wages which rose in line with inflation of which there was plenty .

Time honoured courting process was in place from the first time he saw the poppers on the nylon housecoat struggling to contain the developing curves. His cotton overall hid his embarrassment but not his intention - all boys schools did not prepare you well for this. Even the Drama teacher the fifth form swooned over paled in comparison. And then their story started - a word in his shell like -not a letter in the Hardy/ Shakespeare/ Tolstoy mould but a hand gesture to approach a friend - not like today. Sexting was Chelsea’s cup winning manager, Mobiles were Airfix planes on string and pawn featured in a passage from Christy Brown’s Down All My Days which Aulfella could recite by heart - the good suit went in Monday and was redeemed for Sunday mass. Himself was onto a sure thing - if he asked her to dance at the Xmas social she’d say yes.

Consider the obstacles there: asking - the potential for rejection greater than the selection of the Park football sides where every choice was carefully considered to produce a finely calibrated balance. Fourth best defender gone would you select the second best header without the guarantee you’d land a crosser from the top five? Dancing here did not mean a hustle a bump or even the ska shuffle all of which he could handle. No The Smiley’s People double agent meant a slow dance. So he watched the couples, the elder siblings the pairings of someone’s mate and someone’s sister. Some still together celebrating their second grandchild…

It worked, Nature took over they “got off”, “pulled” and then they were “going out”. This did not mean going out that much as funds were somewhat limited, opportunities even moreso. There was a date culminating in a faint prompted by a Sissy Spacek bloodbath scene. The Odeon Holloway Rd witnessed many a coitus interruptus in its years and this apology laden nursing scene in the foyer echoed many of the experiences Himself and Herself played out. Himself caught the climax of the film a few years later at college ; ditto the coitus although that was more to do with a Malt Liquor (Breaker, Colt 45 ) for 10p promotion - and Carrie herself could not have levitated his head off the pillow the next morning.

No, going out meant staying in with the occasional foray for a coke float at Wimpy with unattached girlfriends (never my mates) including Margaret. Sitting indoors then in a council maisonette. The sitting room was long with the auditorium seats pointed at the shrine - the rented colour set delivering nightly delights. On the sofas, the Elder sister and Geezer fiancee (saving for wedding so not going out) on the armchairs Graham and Ivy the parents, Between them our would be lovers. Telly and smoking that was the evening - Whan the Bert Comes In, Carry On something and Rich Man Poor Man. .When the folks went dahn ve Legion the vinyl came out - Atlantic Crossing with its slow side and fast side and David Essex’s concept album All the Fun of the Fair. Himself had just begun to achieve some minor plateaued competence on the Hofner Guitar Aulfella had bought from a Showband mate (typically flamboyant gesture and much loved) so this obviously was the equivalent of a masters in Musicology allowing him to pontificate and evaluate all music ever created or about to be - for Heads like him and his best mate Pat most music was judged and unless suitably complex, the black cap came out. Himself kept these opinions to hisself or there would be no goodbye fumble in the porch, no warm lips, no ambition destroyed by parental knock, no warmth enough to see him the ten minute walk home.

But in the Crown buoyed by a half pint the opinions flowed as freely as the song. Xmas evening found them with unattached friend Margaret and her extended family of Lydons as in John. The patrons rotated the singing some better than others but all applauded/ gently ribbed then it came to John himself. He starts doing white Christmas, HImself joins in forcing JL to go faster,make more of a mess of the melody, savour the lyric, thrash it - invent punk This bit might be somewhat exaggerated in memory, especially as JL was not even there.

That’s the first sip now the second and the third, happy ending.

That Pub, When the comedian Himself returned to The Crown years later it had become Waxys Dargle - a theme Irish bar, Shane Mcgowan’s local, etc. Singing would get you barred. There were no old men in suits and ties. Now it is a block of flats. Himself remembered the Goldsmiths Tavern in New Cross - put up a sign no hats / no guinness - code for No Blacks no Dogs no Irish I guess. That sign always conjured up an image of Phil Lynott trudging from door to door whispering to the Jack Russell nestling beneath his Afghan coat - dont worry me darling their women go mad for me. One year, Himself and da family minus one acted in chorus and decamped to The George in Essex Rd where with the families of Dabrudder’s Sunday football side they created a kind of mad talent show where audience and performers became one - a communion as Boal would call it. Twas grand - it’s now a gastropub where three organic cherries on the slot machine means a village in Cambodia gets a new goat. the pub quiz includes questions based on the budapest metro map of 1959 and it offers 65 different ales in flavours like panetonne and panfried liver but only one mode of atmosphere - tedious. Gentrification as effective a migration prompt as Potato blight.

Gentrifiers

Chorus - Making your town cool - house price house price house price school - repeat ad nauseam

We think buy to let’s an absolute disgrace/ glad we bought 5 at the old stamp duty rate

Here’s to our genius - or was it / our parents stumping up the dough for the deposit

Agents call this place Shoreditich Lite/ I call it prosecco - bubbly bland and white

So pass the craft ale pass the tapenade / if someone mentions brexit pass the hand grenade

Otag kebab’s been skewered by souvlaki food carts/ I loathe graffiti but our kids study street art

Pie and mash, licquor, winkles and wallies are all rebooted as cuisine a la cockney

Fiver for a loaf of bread a petition vs. greggs / Costa flipping coffee costa flipping arm and leg

Can’t buy malt vinegar to put upon your plate just condiment fundamentalists of balsamic state

Riding Monday then flute, Latin Greek / by Tuesday we’re into the rhythm of the week

Lance flunked the grammar despite all the tutors So Granny pays the fees at st mediocres

Everywhere the skips and signs shout out: we’re cooling up your town - time to get out

Repeat chorus and fade

0 notes