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troublesometrollhunters · 4 years ago

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Imagine being pregnant in TrollMarket

~ You were one of Jims teachers. Recently pregnant and left alone to raise the baby you moved to Arcadia for a fresh start. However monsters and mayem were not on the pregnancy itinerary and now you've stumbled into a whole world of trouble that doesn't involve your pregnancy problems.

~ Jim swears to you as long as he's Trollhunter no harm will come to you or your baby and he's so sorry that you got caught up in this mess. However your quick to forgive and soon the Trollhunter team becomes your family, the kids becoming your own children in a way.

~ Jim is quick to cook you anything you want. If you have a weird pregnancy craving he'll make whatever you want. Pickled pears? Got it! Something super sweet? Of course. Something really spicy? Sure. Icecream? He'll get the machine and make you some! He loves cooking for you and is glad he can help outside of trollhunting.

~ Toby throughout the entire process becomes your hype man. Becoming pregnant can be hard on your body and how you see yourself. Especially since the hormones make everything seem like a big deal. Sometimes the weight is upsetting or you feel fat and like a slob other times your so tired but feel lazy for taking a nap. He's there to tell you your amazing and beautiful and you should always feel that way because it's true. Self care is key and he's determined to make sure your taken care of the whole pregnancy.

~ Claires an expert in pregnancies because of her baby brother. She helps you make a list of things you should get for the upcoming baby and enjoys maternity shopping with you. You may be a pregnant lady but that doesn't mean you should be forced to live in sweatpants for nine months. She also helps you pick out cute baby clothes and toys for the nursery.

~ Poor Blinky in his excitement mixes up troll customs with human ones and creates weird hybrid things that don't actually exist and defiently don't help the pregnancy.

~ The kids and trolls keep up on absolutely everything. You're very well taken care of the whole pregnancy. Jim makes sure your eating. Toby makes sure you take care of yourself. And Claire helps you with house stuff when you need it. Draal, Blinky, and Aarrrgh also get very involved. They want to hear about your doctor appointments and see all the sonograms and ultrasounds. (Good luck getting their hands off you when the baby begins kicking)

~ You never got a baby shower so the troll team surprises you. Claire organizes the party, Jim handles the cake and food, meanwhile Toby invites all your friends and decorates. You get gifts from trolls, people, and even changelings. Strickler didn't come but he sent an expensive gift and a nice card.

~ You don't think much of it as it's a busy fun day full of gifts, laughter, games, and love. When the parties over they have one last surprise for you. Taking you upstairs the kids are excited to show you a recently decorated nursey!

~ Blinky had painted the walls of the room to look like an enchanted forest. There was elegant trees with birds and critters and flowers full of bees and butterflies. Soft green carpet laid on the floor and you nearly cried as you looked around. Draal had built you a beautiful crib of wood with little pieces of heart stone hanging off of it. And Aarrrgh smiled as he'd put in some shelves and arranged toys. Stepping further into the room taking it in, the crib was full of fluffy pillows and soft blankets. All of them were fantasy themed with pixies or tales of fae. Hand made dolls of the trolls were in a toy bin and plushies of goblins and other creatures were placed around the room. There was a gorgoues rocking chair in the corner and next to it a shelf full of young troll books and childrens toys. There was also a wooden changing station with soft pillows for your baby that held all the supplies you needed to clean and change them. You cry telling them this is the best gift ever.

~ Bular found you by accident. About half way through your second term Goblins were chasing the trollhunting team and out of options they hid at your house since you were the closest. The U.V lights you installed made the goblins flee and you thought that was the end of that until a changeling tried to break into your home a couple days later.

~ The team decides Trollmarket was the safest place for you. Staying in Trollmarket until the baby comes and you can safely move everyone is excited. Trolls may not love humans but the fact that your carrying a life inside of you is seen as a glorious thing. Trollmarket would never turn a pregnant person away even if they are a human. You get an influx of gifts from trolls around the market and they all make a point to smile and wave whenever they see you, something they didn't do before.

~ If your feet ever become sore, don't worry about it. In human standards you may be big but in troll ones your small. Blinky, Aarrrgh, Draal they'll carry you if they see you struggling. It's also a troll instinct to want to feed anything that's tiny so be prepared for trolls constantly offering you strange things to eat because they think you should be bigger for the baby. Gifts are a common occurrence as you live with Blinky. Weapons. Troll toys. Books. You also receive a lot of interesting letters.

~ Blinky tells the babies stories every night before you got to bed. He reads human fairy tales but also tells troll lore excited. Aarrrgh snuggles next to you and wherever the baby kicks he laughs. You always go to bed warm and happy as your baby rests soundly in your stomach.

~ Draal gets very protective of you when you locate to Trollmarket. He was protective before but after the attack he's now a guard dog, constantly by your side unless the team really needs him. When the baby starts kicking he's nervous to touch your belly at first. He'd seen the others do it and he wanted to as well. Taking his hand you gently put it your stomach and his eyes widen as he feels a strong kick against it.

"They're a warrior!" He states excited and you chuckle. With who they'd be raised with you had no doubt they'd be a warrior.

~ Aarrrgh is very cuddly the entire pregnancy. He wants the baby to be warm and safe so he often curls up around you when you take naps. He's often nuzzling your baby bump and asking questions. Human pregnancies and troll ones are very different and sometimes he gets confused but he does his best.

~ Blinky reads way to many books that Claire brings over about babies. Now he thinks he's an expert on all things baby related. The entire pregnancy he gives ludicrous advice thinking it'll help the pregnancy and the baby. It's sweet but he becomes a bit overbearing and the kids sometimes have to intervene.

~ Vendel gets annoyed when the others have to leave and he's stuck with you. But as you waddle around the Heartstone complaining about sore feet and back pains he pauses. He leads you somewhere to sit down. He gives you a chunk of heartstone to hold and wraps you in blankets so your warm. Wandering away he comes back with tea for the both of you and starts a pleasant chat.

~ You've wandered into a dangerous world and your worried about your baby, about the kids. They shouldn't be alone... They shouldn't be taking care of you, your the adult! Vendel notices the sad way you say alone and care. He sees your lip tremble and it hits him your scared. He softly asks you if your afraid to be alone, if your afraid you won't get the care you need. Your hands instinctively touch the baby bump and your thoughts wander to the father who'd walked out on you. You nod feeling tears in your eyes and he gently puts his head to yours humming something soft and soothing.

"You are not alone here and you will be cared for here."

You begin sobbing relieved as he rubs your back. No you suppose you had nothing to worry about.

~ Vendel knows a lot about human pregnancies thanks to asking you and doing some light research. Blinky likes to challenge the old man about it and they often bicker about what's good and not good for you and the baby. It can be quit entertaining if not alarming.

~ Vendel gives you potions for morning sickness so you no longer puke when you wake up and he gives you tea to sooth your aching muscles. He gifts you a heartstone necklace so that peace may always be with you as you carry the baby.

~ Your in Blinkies library one day. The kids are out patrolling and your enjoying a nice night when suddenly your soaked. At first you assume you peed yourself and are a tad emabrassed but you know Blinky will understand. Calling him in for some assistance he pauses seeing you and that's when the contractions start. You didn't pee, your water just broke.

~ Going to a hospital may take too long and getting out of the canal was too dangerous at this point. You're very carefully picked up by Aarrrgh before your rushed to the heartstone. Someone had ran ahead so Vendel was getting ready as you were brought in.

~ There are soft blankets to lay on and your put on a Heartstone slab which eases the pain of labor. Trolls excitedly wait outside of the heartstone for the baby to come. Hours pass and although your sweaty and exhausted you can't help but smile as your baby is placed in your arms.

~ The kids run in along with Draal and they stare at you holding your newborn. You're covered in blankets and sweaty but you couldn't be happier as you stare at your baby. They're swaddled in a soft furry blanket holding a chunk of heartstone with wide eyes. They look around and you smile.

"Hi... Hi... I'm your mama..." You mumble holding them close. "This is your family..."

~ Vendel takes the baby to check on them and you sleep after the draining expeirnce when you wake you smile holding your child close. Vendel was the official grandpa and you'd named Aarrrgh and Blinky the godfathers of the child. You said the kids could be sisters and brothers if they wanted and you told Draal he was an uncle. They were all very excited.

~ You give your baby a human name and a Trollish one. One you'd use in the human one and one you'd use in TrollMarket. Holding them close and looking at your family you smile. You wouldn't have it any other way.

@arcadia-trash

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years ago

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I saw this question n i really want to know yout pov . JK is a troll and he's using both JM and Tae. Lets see. JK wears a purple and green shirt the other day. Purple and green earrings during Muster and purple and green bracelets. But then he says Purple goes best with Yellow and wears matching clothes with JM. He grabs Tae away from Jin, but then grabs JM from people. So is he purposely being a fan service troll or is he stringing them both along? I don't think he knows what or who he wants anymore. he's just enjoying the attention from Vmin.

JK IS STRINGING VMIN ALONG??? I 👁👄👁

I feel like I've answered this Ask before.

I think the problem with such rhetorics for me is, it strips Jimin and Tae completely off their self agencies and reduces them to a bunch of fabled dickmatised pick me hyungs waiting on a patriarchal head with a self acclaimed big dick who then is Jungkook to choose between them to move the plot.

If that is true, then I recommend Vmin go and love themselves or better yet fuck eachother to liberate themselves from this mental hebetude.

Photo: Two pathetic dick whipped men comforting each other over a piece of dick

What at all makes y'all think that Jimin who have categorically stated he doesn't share his friends, would be ok sharing his boyfriend with his bestfriend and soulmate?

Didn't you hear BTS, Suga complain that Tae's friends are like unicorns and that he talks about them alot but none of them have seen those friends ever in one of the team building run episodes they did recently?

What makes y'all think a man who tries to keep his intimate friendship groups separate and compartmentalized from his work friendship groups- what makes you think he would be ok dating a bandmate in the first place much less share his partner with another bandmate?

Y'all make it make sense to me please.

Y'all create this rhetoric of V and Jimin so in love with their Maknae they would allow this goofy ass gen z to play them like booboo the fool. But frankly I think none of them would shed a tear over a piece of dick. I'm sorry but I just don't see them that way.

Jk barely has the reins on Jimin, how he's gone manage Tae and all these other idols yall ship him with on top🤣

Jimin is slippery than y'all think he is. He'll be gone before JK makes up his mind chilee. And if he won't go, I and JK's mom will carry him kicking and screaming cos we love us some self confident self respecting Park Jimin.

May be I'm gay but I don't think dicks are all that great for two full grown adults like Tae and Jimin to sob over. The misogyny of it all!

Now this whole fan service troll bit however...

I think I have said a couple times that Jikook, Jk especially do intentionally troll us from time to time with certain things he does with Jimin- the tissue thingy he did with JM, the pinkie ring thingy, the bottle thingy and certain "fan service" interactions with Jimin and certain members, blowing Jin a kiss and making sure it was captured etc.

It's all part of his persona I suppose and I think it's cute frankly. I just know he laughs his butt off at certain edits and analysis we throw out there. He does. Lmho.

Photo: Jimin and Jungkook watching shipper armys be clowns

Lmho.

Do I think he trolls us from time to time? Yes. Sometimes we catch on, sometimes it flies over our heads completely. I guess we need to pray for the spirit of discernment to be able to clock these moments cos 👁👄👁

That however doesn't take away from that he has genuine interest in his relationship with any of these men. It in no way invalidates what he has with Jimin. Or Jin. Or Tae because like I said, his right to be a fuxkboy is contingent on the self worth and agencies of these autonomous human beings with brain and self determination.

He can be a fuxkboy just not in Jimin's space. I would fight him otherwise 🤺

Jungkook is not a fuck boy. He values the people he loves- y'all uWu and akekeke when he shows loyalty and commitment in caring for Army's health and often praise him for how thoughtful and empathetic he is but then somehow y'all imagine the exact opposite of him in his private life. That he is a community penis who doesn't care about hurting his boyfriend, someone he claims he loves and goes ahead and falls in love with his bestfriend anyway.

Worse, those two besties obsequiously wait on him to choose between them.... why?????

Now, I don't think it's fair for OP to opine on the aesthetics Jungkook gravitates towards in this way. It feels like they are stripping Jk off his agency and self determination and reducing him to a caricature who exists solely for a ship and thus everything he does is interpreted from a ship lens. I think that's a low blow.

BTS have said their looks and style are often curated by staff- they have stylists for a reason you know? Granted, these stylists often make sure Jikook or other pairs are matching clothes or wearing complimentary outfits or hairstyles most times- like JM says, there is a reason for that.

And yes, sometimes they do make their own decisions as to what they want to wear and how they want to look- because again, agency. We've seen it and the stylists have said so themselves.

How you interpret these clothing choices is totally up to you. But do not judge them for the interpretation you give to these choices they make. Sometimes they wear stuff cos they like it. It may coincidentally be your faves favorite color- it don't mean they were trying to imply subtext.

Sometimes too, they do that to actively feed a ship agenda- like Vmin and their soulmate agenda or Jikook and their I am you you are me agenda or even Sope or Namjin.

It behooves you to discern and to be able to discern the intent behind such decisions and choices. And when you do, understand it's only speculation.

I think Jungkook knows who and what he wants. You corny for saying he don't. So cheesy. Lmho.

He has shown that again and again y'all just wanna act blind. Jimin is not confused between Jungkook and Tae. JK is not confused between Tae and Jimin- for the simple fact, they each bring something different to the table.

He can have a boyfriend and have a partner in crime. Just as Jimin can have him and have a bestie he calls soulmate. Jungkook is also, a complex human being with complex emotions. He is capable of having different emotional depths and connections that don't at all necessarily mean he is fucking them all or wants to fuck them all. Hell is wrong witchu?!

Perhaps, rather than brush Jimin and Tae as occupying the same spot in JK's heart and wants, try and understand what each mean to him because trust me they don't mean the same thing to him at all.

Personally, I think Jimin is the love of his life. Period. Tae is his childhood bestie whom he grew apart from and have in recent times rekindled that friendship. He is not fucking Tae and he doesn't want to fuxk him. We DO

I'm calling Jesus on y'all cos the things yall be imagining in this fandom is hell worthy🤧

Besides, Jk is not at the center of VminKook. Jimin is. Vmin are not vying for Jk's affections, but Tae Kook are vying for JMs you coconut head 🙃

Tae: Jimin I like you the most

Y'all: 🥥🥥🥥🥥🥥

This man don confessed his whole chest on his feelings for JM on national television and yet yall gonna act obtuse.

When Tae wanted to fix his relationship with JK he said it to y'all's hearing in Soop. When he wanted to confess his feelings about Jimin he did that too. He is not hiding his feelings for Jk or Jimin for yall to concoct these elaborate theories about him and JK.

If I master black magic, I will turn y'all into coconuts so your insides can match your outsides😫

FREE JK

Signed,

GOLDY

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kiefbowl · 4 years ago

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ew why tf are you dating a scrote

okay this is clearly a troll, but I’ll answer anyway since this seems to be a topic of interest to people lately. I wrote a lot and talked about sexual assault, so go ahead and skip it if that’s not your jam. disclaimer: I don’t have a problem or think there’s anything wrong with people who don’t want to follow me bc of the bf. that’s legitimate! please do what suits you. I think some of my responses have been perceived as snarky in the past but I only try to be snarky when I suspect a troll, I really don’t have a problem with people unfollowing me b/c of the bf or even telling me about it.

I worked with Malcolm for about a year and a half before we go together, but we got together for the first time 5 months after I had a brief but intense love affair with a meth addict that ended in big traumatic ways after he started using heavily again, which eventually cultivated in him raping me (not that it was the only sexual violence I experienced with him but that time was particularly horrific because I was heartbroken and he was high on meth). he was also a man, and the reason I started dating him isn’t so clear to me except that I was looking for a way to live recklessly and self harm. There’s a longer story there but the details can’t be told concisely and it’s no one’s business. In any case, everything that happened with him is not worth recounting, but it was long and complicated and continued even after the rape. To give some context about how bad it was, I also had worked with the meth addict (I’m not using his name on purpose), and part way through our relationship he got a new job. a couple weeks after the rape, he lost that job and got his old job back. yeah, imagine being dumped by a meth addict and the being raped by him and then he starts working with you when you know he is using now. not fun, pretty sad to think about.

I was in a very traumatized state for months. It’s hard to describe what it’s like, except you don’t feel like you’re living. You can feel very foreign to your own life. I felt like something inside of me was constantly pressing against me to get out, and if it did it would be me screaming. Like, my skin had become a suit to mask the babbling lunatic underneath. I would have random outbursts where I would wince in pain and people would ask what was up and it was just that the emotional pain was felt so sharply it became physical, but I felt like I couldn’t be honest with people. I did go to therapy, it felt like life and death. right around the time before Malcolm and I together, so a few months into therapy, my therapist gave me permission to feel okay seeking out love, sex, and relationships, because I was feeling very guilty that I might be using someone if I did. In any case, Malcolm showed up to my bday party, and was one of the last to leave, and I just was ready for the next thing after the meth addict bf. Every day I didn’t have sex, the last person I had sex with was him. I wanted to be normal again. I was feeling a little better, less freakish, but still so sad. So I said, okay Malcolm, come home with me and he did. It didn’t seem so bad to take Malcolm home with me because I wasn’t very interested in him long term, so it seemed like low stakes to end up hurting him. Low investment. Yadda yadda.

Malcolm was also convenient, he lived walking distance. he was nice, friendly, easy to hang out with. our emotional intimacy was very low, it was low low low low maintenance dating. Malcolm felt very safe, he was the polar opposite of the other bf. we had a casual, boring, unintimidating fling for a few months that sputtered out. if the other bf was like riding a roller coaster that was condemned, Malcolm was like taking a nap on the bus back home after a long exhausting day at the amusement park. I know, it’s not very sexy. But it was nice to feel like a human again, have proof I could be normal, proof I could do unsexy things like watch tv and go to brunch and it didn’t feel like I was a freak for trying after months of feeling like I had a neon sign over my head that said “idiot adult woman dated meth addict like it wasn’t going to end up fucking her over HA HA.” I was ready to go out with my new sense of normalcy and have fun with people I might be, er, to be blunt, more interested in.

BUT the most amazing thing was we stayed friends after the break up, which I had never had before. and even though the first few months of dating helped me feel normal again in a way, it turns out being raped by your meth addict ex leaves deep, painful welts. who could guess. Seeking out other relationships from scratch ended up being exhausting. When do I bring up that I’m not even a year from a meth addict raping me? Date two? I tried with other people, and it wasn’t working. I dropped dating, and focused on friends and work instead. But I missed him some days, and as things around me were starting to feel like they were crumbling again, he was there and around. He came over, smoked weed, taught me MTG, let me make him dinner, took me out to bars, listened to me cry, had gentle sex. Soon we were seeing and talking to each other every day. We spent enough time together that it became clear we were dating again, and this time around it was more enjoyable and more intimate. It felt easier to invest in our relationship the second time around because he already knew the baggage. We started dating and eventually, out of the sake of convenience, moved in together.

But if it makes you feel any better, anon who is probably not reading this, the state of my relationship is not great atm. It feels like we’re very good friends that share a bed. I always had doubts about this relationship from the beginning, I was never really crazy about Malcolm and was tentative about being exclusive. I rationalized the relationship with thoughts like “you don’t know until you try” and “maybe this love is different love, and it doesn’t feel like previous love because I still need to learn more about love.” I don’t think that’s quite it anymore. But, we live together in an unpredicted pandemic, so I sort of made my bed. Plus, it’s hard to decide to break up with someone who isn’t bad just maybe not good enough. Maybe it’s my fault? some days I wake up and think, “oh well am I really giving him 100%? if I tried harder maybe it would be better.” Maybe it’ll get better? What’s life post pandemic and when is it coming, I can’t know. I’ve been depressed, will I get better? Will it change things? I also adore his parents, they’ve been amazing to me, they inspire me. they’ve opened their hearts to me. losing them weighs heavy. I love Malcom very much, he’s been a good friend and we’ve built a nice little life together that has a lot of parts working. How do you decide what day to hurt someone you love? Idk...I guess I entered this relationship to learn.

The Meth Addict has loomed large in our relationship and casts a long shadow. I’ve talked about it with Malcolm but I’m not sure he fully understands it. almost 3 years since my birthday we hooked up. That’s a long time. It’s as long as the relationship I had with my first love. I can’t predict the full story Malcolm and I will have, but I can see a potential break up looming closer. I struggle with it every day. Some nights, like tonight, it’s seems pretty clear cut. If I think this way now it pretty much proves I want to break up, right? But tomorrow morning he’ll make me tea and we’ll talk about our weekend plans and I’ll think “oh this is so nice, what was I even thinking about last night? I’m getting in my own head.” So I don’t know! I think about women a lot. I think about how I talk frankly about my bisexuality on tumblr and yet my experiences with men outnumber that with women. I feel like I’m cheating sometimes, like I’ve lead you guys to believe something that’s not real even though I’m not lying. I think about how I never want to cheat on Malcolm but I get crushes and I want to sleep with women and I wonder if I should be a mom and I think about his parents and it gets confusing. I feel guilty about thinking about our convenience because that’s cheating him and cheating me, but sometimes I wake up happy and much happier than I’ve been in 10 years.

So I guess the reason I’m dating a scrote is because I’m complicated and have a bit of a messy life, and I live day to day, and we make micro choices that lead to macro choices and then we make macro choices that lead to micro choices, and I haven’t pulled the trigger on breaking up with him yet. He was part of the healing journey because, well, he was here. In my real life. It turns out the women we follow on tumblr are very very human with lives far more complex that can be summed up in a few posts on tumblr. Maybe ask me in 50 years why I dated Malcolm, I’ll probably have a better idea why.

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years ago

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No Mistletoe Above Our Heads

Summary: It’s the day of the Trolberg Winter Festival, and Matilda Pilkfist invites all her favorite people to her house to celebrate. Two of her guests, however, seem more interested in each other than anything elseContains spoilers for season 2

Notes: Did you know that legally you can post Christmas fics until the New Year? It’s right there in the constitution, I swear Jokes aside, I had two holiday fic ideas and only time to write one in time for Xmas and... that established relationship one won. Which, of course, didn’t stop me from wanting to do this one as well. Anyways this is set one year after the Trolberg Winter Festival that we see on season 2. Since we don’t know how much Johanna will know after the whole Troll business is over, I’m just making things up here.

Read it on ao3

The doorbell rang just in time for Kaisa to finish setting up the table, all the cutlery neatly in place.

“Oh, it’s the rest of our guests!” Tildy chirped. “You dears wait right here, I’ll go get them.”

Standing near Tildy’s table, the two of them watched the older woman walk to her front hall to open the door. There was a very strong scent of cinnamon in the air - Tildy had probably forgotten something in the oven.

“Do you know the other people she called?” Mr. Ostenfeld asked her, making her shrug.

‘Sort of. I’ve talked to the kids before. They’re okay.” Although she’d grown very fond of the children in the year she’d known them, spending the Winter Festival socializing with them was not a situation she was entirely comfortable with. She was sure she’d just be a wallflower and make them all feel like they needed to include her in their conversation for the sake of good manners, but her old mentor had insisted on her attending the dinner, so she’d given in. It wasn’t like she had any better plans for the evening, anyway, and she felt like she owned it to Tildy after spending years avoiding her.

“Frida, how delightful to see you!” They heard Matilda say from the doorway, and figured they should get closer to greet the guests as well. “And I’m so glad you two could come too!”

Behind Frida, there were two adults who resembled her a lot. Tildy let them in and pointed at them. “This is Peter, my boyfriend, and Kaisa. I used to be her English tutor as well!”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Mr. Ostenfeld said as Kaisa shook their hands. She had been warned, of course, that the adults didn’t know about the magic yet, but it still struck her as amusing to see arch-sorceress Matilda Pilkfist describe herself as an English tutor. She also wondered how her mentor was planning on explaining the skull on her wall, or the painting of witches around a fire, not to mention her hand mannequin for palmistry practice. Maybe she thought everyone had those things at home, that would be a very Tildy-like way of thinking.

After greeting Frida and her family, Kaisa brought her attention back to the other guests. She knew Frida’s familiar had also been invited. Tildy seemed to have taken a strong liking to her as well. What she hadn’t been expecting was to already know the adult who had come in with her.

Well, maybe know was too strong of a word. But she’d already met the woman at the library, where sometimes she’d go to look for inspiration for her work and Kaisa would help her, and sometimes they’d see each other around the city and wave. Still, it was enough for a noticeable spark of recognition to be lit on her brown eyes, even if she wasn’t the one who spoke first.

“Good evening!” Hilda greeted her happily. “It’s very nice to see you here!”

“Good evening, Hilda. How are you doing tonight?”

Seemingly unaware of how Kaisa’s gaze was straying to her mother behind her, the girl smiled. “Great! We just came from the bloom, it was so beautiful!”

“I agree. I was there long enough to see it, those flowers seem to get more beautiful every year.”

Though Hilda looked like she was going to agree, Mr. Ostenfeld approached them before she could say anything.

“Ah, so you two were invited! How lovely! Looks like you have already met my neighbors, eh Kaisa?”

“Good evening, Mr. Ostenfeld!” Mother and daughter said at the same time. Only now Kaisa realized that Johanna seemed to be trying to sneak glances at her as well.

“I already know Kaisa.” Hilda explained. “I don’t think mum does, though.”

With her hand on her hips, the woman rolled her eyes playfully. “Hilda, I’m not illiterate. I’ve already met Kaisa at the library.”

Hilda’s mouth formed a perfect “o” shape, her eyes widening only slightly. It seemed like an odd thing for her to realize her mother had a life beyond what they did together.

“It’s good to finally see you in a more social setting, Kaisa.” She said, raising her hand for the librarian to shake.

"Likewise." The woman’s grip was warm and soft, and something in Kaisa didn’t want to let go. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Johanna.” The woman smiled. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a waste after all.

_#_#_#_

Johanna never thought she’d be so glad to see the librarian.

When Hilda told her they’d been invited to Frida’s English Tutor’s Winter Festival dinner, she’d been skeptical at best. Not because she didn’t trust the woman, not even out of unwillingness to spend the Festival in a way so different from how she used to when she was younger, but because she knew Hilda would leave her alone, and she couldn’t blame her.

Being with her friend meant the girl would probably run off to somewhere private to talk to her alone, and Johanna would left to… mingle with the adults, something she didn’t quite know if she would manage. Her daughter had thought she had wanted her to make human friends for the sake of being normal. Truth be told, what she really wanted was for Hilda to have more social skills than she did when she grew up.

Her prediction had been proven true. The girls had gone to some other room in Matilda’s house at her invitation, and the rest of them had moved to a sitting room, where they sat down on the couches in pairs: the host and her boyfriend, Frida’s parents, and the party’s two outcasts, which had been left to sit together.

Kaisa seemed to realize they were the odd ones out - the only ones who weren’t there as a couple and who weren’t quite close to nearly anyone - at the same time Johanna did, and they smiled sympathetically at each other as they sat down on the bright red sofa.

Neither of them added much to the conversation; Tildy was able to carry it with her usual brightness and Frida’s parents seemed to be interested in adding their opinions as well, especially when the topic was their daughter’s incredible willingness to learn.

Not particularly interested in the dialogue, Kaisa let her mind wander elsewhere, until she felt Johanna tense up beside her. They weren’t close enough for her to physically feel it, but sensing her energy was enough for Kaisa to pick up something was wrong. She blinked and tried to remember the sentence that had just been spoken.

“It brings us a lot of pride.” Frida’s father had said, which made Kaisa assume the conversation still had been centered around Frida. “But it must be quite hard to have a trouble maker for a child, isn’t it? I imagine you’ve tried everything at this point to get Hilda to behave, and I should have expected Frida to have had a bigger impact on her, being the positive influence that she is.”

Johanna swallowed, and Kaisa could tell from the way her fist clenched on the hem of her sweater that she knew exactly what to answer, just as well as she knew she’d be beyond rude if she said what she wanted to.

“I don’t see what you mean.” As though they had forgotten she was there, and she wouldn’t be shocked if they had, all eyes turned to Kaisa with surprise in them. The only exception was Tildy, who had her typical knowing smirk on. “I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch Hilda’s behavior, since she visits the library a lot, not once has she done anything that would have me describe her as a trouble maker. And trust me, I have seen some difficult children in my job.”

Looking quite flustered, the man tried to reverse the situation. “Well, surely you’ll agree-“

“There’s the basic, of course.” Kaisa didn’t let him finish. “She never yells or misplaces books, or returns them late. But even when she takes some actions that I suppose could be considered… off route, never has anyone been put in harm’s way by her that I know of, and all her actions are inspired by selflessness. Intelligence doesn’t only mean one thing, and I can assure you the girl is as smart as she is brave. It’s a shame not everyone can recognize it.”

Pleased when both parents looked properly chastened, Kaisa sat back against the couch and pretended to have stopped caring about the conversation again. Oh, if only those two knew the sort of thing their own child got involved with. She’d very much like to see their faces when they found out.

“I agree completely.” Said Peter from the other side of the room. “Never met anyone with better intentions.”

Tildy nodded at her boyfriend, even though her eyes seemed to stray away to the direction of the couch where Johanna and Kaisa were sitting. “Yes, she’s got a heart of gold, that one.”

Only when Kaisa glanced at Frida’s parents, wanting to see how they would look while trying to explain themselves, did she notice that Johanna was not looking at her daughter’s defensors, but rather at her. Her lips parted in a silent gasp when she saw her mouthing a ‘thank you’ to her.

Ignoring Frida’s mother’s fumbled speech as she tried to talk about the “value the school system gives to different learning types”, Kaisa whispered back at Johanna. “Want to get away?”

Though there was no clear answer from her part, no nod or smile, Kaisa didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up and her back straightened at the prospect.

“This is certainly a fascinating topic.” Kaisa blurted as she stood up, well aware that the sarcasm was showing in her voice. “But is it just me or is there something burning?”

Tildy sniffed the air and widened her eyes. Kaisa hadn’t even had to make anything up, something was burning.

“My korvapuusti!” Tildy gasped, but before she could move further, Kaisa gestured for her to remain seated.

“Don’t worry, I can see to it. Though I’m not much of a cook, so maybe Johanna should come with me.” She raised an eyebrow to the woman, expecting her to understand the cue she was trying to create at the same time she knew she was free to refuse it. “Hilda has already brought me some cookies you made, so I know you are skilled.”

“Of course.” Hoping she hadn’t been too quick to answer, Johanna got up and adjusted the hem of her sweater, sneaking a glance at Kaisa, who seemed to be as anxious to get out of there as her.

A dawning realization seemed to slowly replace the worry in Tildy’s face, and she smiled. “How sweet of the two of you to help this old woman. Thank you, dears.”

Kaisa nodded and went back to the entrance hall they’d been at some minutes ago, and Johanna fell in step beside her as she made her way through the house. She seemed to know where she was going, so Johanna didn’t question it, even as she spotted some frankly bizarre details in the house. Something about the way herb jars and crystals adorned nearly every surface was eerie, yet not unpleasant to her. And surely she was imagining the way the portaits’s eyes seemed to follow them.

“Thanks for that.” Johanna said when she had to do a little sprint to catch up with the librarian, a decoration that very much looked like a serpent with horns having had caught her attention. Kaisa slowed down her pace.

“Don’t think about it. There is something burning, anyway, and you very much are more more apt to deal than this than I am.”

“Oh, not that, though I am very grateful for the excuse to go away for a bit.” The lighting in that part of the house was significantly dimmer, somewhy being composed basically of candle light, and for a second Johanna was distracted by how their warm glow and the shadows they cast accentuated the sharp angles in Kaisa’s features. It was probably just the artist side of her showing. “I mean for defending Hilda like that. It’s good to know you have such a positive view of her and… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t spoken up first.”

Kaisa smiled. This was something Johanna didn’t think she’d seen her do any time before that night. It had always been a certainty in her mind, though she didn’t know why, that the mysterious librarian didn’t show who she really was in the library. Now she wondered if she’d finally get to see more of Kaisa’s hidden side since they were behind closed doors.

“You would have been fine.” Thankful for the weak lighting hiding her blush, Kaisa answered. “At worst you would have told them what they need to hear.”

“That their daughter is going to develop one hell of a failure anxiety if they keep this up?”

“That she already has and Hilda is the positive influence that keeps her grounded. Those two really do a lot of good to each other, it’s a lovely friendship to watch.”

Kaisa opened a door and flicked the light switch up, making them both blink a few times since their eyes had adapted to relative darkness. The scent of burnt cinnamon and cardamom was much stronger there, and Johanna quickly spotted the oven and ran to it.

“You seem to know quite a lot about the children.” Johanna pointed out as Kaisa grabbed an oven mitt from the overhead shelf and handed it to her. Carefully, she opened the oven and was struck by a cloud of smoke and heat, holding herself back not to cough as she reached inside and pulled out the tray with the sweets on it. The cinnamon rolls were certainly a lot darker than they ought to be.

Kaisa waved her hand in the air, trying to make the smoke and the strong smell of burnt food fade, and with her other hand she gestured for Johanna to put the tray on an empty place on the counter.

“I don’t go out much.” She admitted half unwillingly. Admitting her lack of social life probably was not the best course of action to take if she wanted Johanna to be interested in befriending her, but she'd certainly figure it out in no time, anyway. “So when I notice recurring patrons that don’t irk me, I usually pay attention to them.”

“Pay attention?” Johanna asked as she tried to figure out how to turn off Matilda’s prehistoric oven before they both choked to death.

With a fork, Kaisa attempted to examine whether or not the confections were still salvageable. At first when she couldn’t poke inside, she thought maybe the crust of sugar and cinnamon had just gotten too thick, but when it broke with an audible crack before yielding she knew they were lost.

“I’m not-” She crossed her arms over her chest, biting her lower lip as she wondered if it was a good idea to answer that question truthfully. Due precisely to not having many friends, Kaisa knew she tended to overshare when people would listen to her, and it just made them go away. But there was something in the way Johanna looked at her that made her believe she genuinely wanted to know. “I’m not really good at talking to people. I seem to be the kind of person that is more interesting when watched from afar, anyway. So I tend to pay attention to visitors, as a hobby I suppose. You can tell a lot by people-watching.”

Johanna took off the mits and gave them back to Kaisa for her to put them in their proper place, and gave her a small nod as a sign to go on.

“I probably wouldn’t know this much about them, but curious as they are the children began to… talk to me.” Kaisa said. It wasn’t quite a lie, but she was sure the story would make much more sense to Johanna if she could mention the Committee and the magic. Though perhaps that was for the better, since that would also mean admitting to taking her daughter through a magical maze, not to mention the ghost situation and the tide mice incident. She highly doubted that Johanna would appreciate it. “And I suppose we just got along. They’re very sweet kids, the three of them, and their curiosity brings them to the library quite often.”

Rather than being disturbed by some of her closest bonds being with children she had no family ties to, Johanna smiled like she understood.

“They really are lovely.” With great difficulty, Johanna managed to unstick one of the sweets from the tray. “It’s a shame I don’t get to talk much to Frida and David, though. Hilda usually doesn’t want her mother bothering her friends. I guess it’s just signs of pre-teenagehood showing up.”

After bringing the korvapuusti to her nose and sniffing it, Johanna had to do her best to hide a grimace at the smell. “Oh, goodness, I hope Matilda doesn’t get too upset about not serving dessert.”

“Eh, she’s probably done another batch earlier.” Kaisa said as a way of hiding the fact that Tildy would probably use a revitalization spell and serve them anyway. Currently, the librarian was more interested in something else she’d just spotted on the counter.

It was a small jar, not much bigger than a glass of water and filled to the brim with a cream coloured paste. She grabbed it so fast that Johanna blinked with surprise, and thought for a moment that she was trying to hide something.

“Tildy made condensed milk!” Kaisa chirped, sounding very much like an excited child as she opened one of the drawers and took out two tablespoons. “I mean, of course she did. She always puts it on the table when she makes korvapuusti in case anyone wants to add it on top, but she made so much this time! How lucky.”

As Kaisa scooped a spoonful of the viscous substance, Johanna bit back a smirk. If people truly did think Kaisa’s uncensored self wasn’t as interesting as the image she first showed them was, the woman would have to disagree strongly. Every time she’d seen the librarian in her work place, Kaisa had set in her the desire to get to know her better, and now that she was seeing beneath the mystery and the quietness, nothing changed; if anything, Johanna was even more intrigued. In her mind, she compared her to a good brownie: once you got past the crispy crust it was warm and soft inside, and both parts were just as good.

“You seem very close to her as well.” Johanna pointed out. “Between her and the children, you’re probably better off in the friend department than I am.”

Kaisa stopped scooping a second spoon to look at her, her brow furrowed. “Really? You look like a very popular person.”

Flattered, Johanna chuckled. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re nice.” Kaisa shrugged. “Nice people usually have a lot of friends.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s how I come across. But I’m afraid I don’t really have any friends. None human, at least.”

Johanna looked away and cringed. Great way to get people to like you, she told herself. Make them see how weird you are. It was ironic, really. She’d insisted so much on Hilda making some human friends, and in the end she was the one drinking her afternoon tea with a nisse. If Kaisa had thought she was nice rather than odd, like most people did, it wouldn’t last if she continued talking so freely.

There was no judgement, not even surprise, when she looked back at Kaisa’s face, though. She looked like she thought that what Johanna was saying made perfect sense.

“Now you have one.” She had set down the jar again and was raising one of the spoons up for Johanna to take. “If I might call myself that, I mean.”

“Oh.” Johanna smilled, a cool sensation of butterflies in her belly making her fidget with the hem of her sweater. “Yes, of course. I’d love to be your friend!”

Kaisa’s grin widened, and Johanna spent a second thinking about how beautiful the dark lipstick shade she was wearing looked on her before realizing she was still waiting for her to take the spoon.

“Oh.” Johanna gasped again, mentally kicking herself from fumbling over her words so much. She wasn’t normally like this, but Kaisa had no way of knowing this and would probably think her a complete fool before the night was over. “Shouldn’t we wait until after dinner?”

“What’s the harm? Hilda isn’t here, you know? You don’t have to set a good exemple.” Kaisa said even as lowered the spoon, as if to show that she wouldn’t pressure her to do it. However, the argument seemed to have been a good one, because as soon as she brought her own spoon to her lips to taste the condensed milk, Johanna gave in and picked up hers.

“This is really good!” Johanna said regardless of thinking that it was maybe a bit too sweet for her to be able to eat a whole spoonful of it. Kaisa didn’t seem to be having any problems with it, though, and she didn’t want to let her new friend down.

Kaisa leaned her back against the counter, pleased Johanna seemed to have liked it. Figuring it would probably be inappropriate if she kept watching her as she licked the condensed milk out of the spoon, which she firmly told herself she’d only been doing because she wanted to catch her reaction, Kaisa ran her eyes around the kitchen as she concentrated on her early dessert. Until, that was, her attention was caught by something on the doorframe.

“Did Tildy seriously put mistletoe in the kitchen?” She sighed, more to herself than to Johanna.

“Not fond of them?” Johanna asked with her gaze also focused on the bundle of green leaves and pearly white berries.

“I’ve no ill will towards them.” Kaisa ate the last of what was left on her spoon and wondered if it was worth it to wash it and get some more condensed milk. “I just feel like it can be a really stupid tradition. Can’t be pleasant to be under the mistletoe with someone you don’t like.”

“Yes, it must be uncomfortable.” While she answered, Johanna turned to face Kaisa, who was washing the spoon in order to put it back inside the drawer, figuring out Tildy would notice if too much of the condensed milk was gone. Realizing Kaisa had some of it in the corner of her mouth, anything else she might have said was snatched out of her tongue as the sudden thought that it truly was a pity that Kaisa didn’t appreciate that tradition popped in her mind. Embarrassed, she shook her head as if to expel that notion, and put the spoon in her mouth to finish eating as well. “I wonder where on earth it came from. Sounds random to say the least.”

Kaisa hummed in agreement, and though Kaisa offered to wash Johanna’s spoon as well, she insisted on cleaning up after herself. After they were both done, they decided they’d probably been away for longer than socially acceptable. It was probably already time for dinner, at that point.

As they retraced their steps, however, the two women stopped in front of the first door frame after the kitchen's, staring at the same thing for the same reason.

“Curious.” Johanna hummed. “I don’t remember that mistletoe being there.”

It escaped Johanna’s notice, but not Kaisa’s, that there was something out of the ordinary with the sprig. After a few seconds of watching it, a glittering speck of green dust fell from it, floating all the way to the ground. The witch’s shoulders hunched forward like they tended to do when she was annoyed. An illusion spell.

“I don’t think they were here before.” She hissed through clenched teeth, low enough for Johanna to not hear it. Every other room they passed by was the same: a small mistletoe where before there had been none.

“It was probably the weak lighting.” Johanna said as they passed by their fifth mistletoe, although she failed to convince even herself with that explanation. Kaisa might not have noticed it since she had just been looking forward to where they had been going, but Johanna had been paying very close attention to her surroundings. Maybe that house’s nisse had decided to add some decoration?

Kaisa did her best to smile and say “Yes, it probably was.”, knowing it must have looked way more like a growl. Right when they arrived back at the sitting room, her suspicions were confirmed. Not only did Tildy have her hand inside the pocket where she kept her wand, but also the look of curiosity she gave them when they came back spoke louder than any words.

“You’re back! We were just waiting for you to go to the table.” Tildy chirped, looking deep inside Kaisa’s eyes, looking for something.

“Someone better go call the children, then.”

Tildy looked away at Kaisa’s unwavering answer. Whatever she’d been looking for, and the librarian thought she had a pretty good idea of what it was, she hadn’t found it.

“And the korvapuusti?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to use your extra batch.”

“Oh, well.” She got up with her boyfriend's aid. “There’s always next time, isn’t there.”

Something led Kaisa to believe she was not talking about the confections.

_#_#_#_

“It was great to spend some time with you, Kaisa!”

The librarian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hoping she didn’t look too happy to be hearing that.

“Likewise, Johanna.”

Would asking to see her again be too much? It probably would, but she could think of nothing else to say. They just stood perfectly still as they looked at each other, the cold from the night outside creeping into the house through the open door behind Johanna. Holding her mother’s hand, Hilda glanced back and forth at both of them with a curious frown.

“I guess I’ll see you at the library, then?” Johanna said at last, and Kaisa nodded.

“Yes. That’s… that’s where I’ll be.”

“Well, happy Bloom again! And good night.” At this point, Hilda was already trying to subtly drag her mother away. For someone who always complained about the Woodman leaving the door open, she thought Johanna really should pay more attention to that sort of thing.

“Good night to the two of you.” Said Kaisa. Finally happy that Johanna had began moving out, Hilda smiled and waved at the witch.

“Bye bye, Kaisa! See you when I see you!”

When the door was closed at last, and Kaisa was the only guest left (it didn’t matter that she was one of the strongest witches alive, Kaisa would feel bad if she left an elderly lady to clean up everything alone), Tildy surreptitiously crept up by her side.

“Did you at least get her number?” Tildy asked with a sigh, which made her former apprentice remember why exactly she’d been mad at her.

“Tildy.” Kaisa groaned, putting her hands on her waist. “I know you mean well, but you’re going a little too far. I barely even know Johanna and you’re already conjuring mistletoes around the house?!”

Saying that, she pointed to the spot one of the sprigs had been just a few minutes before, even though there was nothing there at that moment. The woman giggled, kneeling down with some difficulty to pick her familiar up when it walked to her.

“Oh, but I’ve a good eye for this sort of thing!” She defended herself cheerfully as she petted that thing she called a familiar. Kaisa had never seen eye to eye with it. It had a tendency of eating her books which hadn’t faded with time. “I saw some sparks flying and I decided to help along! Such a shame you didn’t grab the chance.”

Kaisa pinched the bridge of her nose. Sometimes she wondered if age was beginning to get the best of her old mentor. “Okay, fine, I think she’s cute. You’ve always been able to tell how I feel and I won’t deny it. But we both know close to nothing about her! She doesn’t even like mistletoes-”

“This younger generation.” Tildy scoffed, interrupting her. ��So unromantic.”

“And even if her feelings were reciprocal.” Kaisa continued with a glare, figuring it was better to pretend she hadn’t heard that. No matter how old Kaisa got, she was always part of the ‘younger generation’ in Tildy’s eyes. “We’ve just properly met! “that’s way too forward and you know it, so don’t try to blame me for not making a move in the first five seconds of knowing someone.”

“Oh, Kaisa.” The sorceress sighed as she began walking away to the kitchen, so they both could start and finish their washing as soon as possible. “No need to get so defensive. I was only trying to help you, but I apologize if it made you uncomfortable in any way. However, as someone who wants nothing but your happiness, I need to ask you to reach out to that woman as soon as possible.”

Kaisa hugged her arms around her torso. Somewhy that idea was enough to make her afraid, even if she couldn’t tell what of. “It’s okay, Tildy. You don’t have to apologize, but I think I’ll wait until Johanna goes to the library again. We can talk a bit and… and then when she visits it again it won’t be weird to try and arrange another meeting somewhere else.”

Tildy stopped right in front of the sink and narrowed her eyes at Kaisa. “Were you not listening?”

“I was, but-“

“No buts!” She exclaimed, throwing a towel at Kaisa. Whether she wanted her to do the drying or she was just exasperated and wanted to throw something at her, she didn’t know. “Do you know why I’m dating Peter?”

“Hopefully because you love him?” Kaisa answered, somewhat stunned at the sudden change in topic.

“Very funny, aren’t you.” Opening the sink to begin her washing, Tildy snickered. “I mean, why am I dating him instead of already being married to him? I did already tell you we met when we were young.”

“Because you’re both broke and can’t take a loan since the bank doesn't like you.” Kaisa joked, which resulted in Tildy shaking her weat hand on her direction to send a couple of drops of water at her. Laughing as her she shielded her face from the water, she quickly added. “I’m kidding! It’s because you two didn’t talk for very long.”

Tildy nodded as she went back to washing. There was something sad in her eyes, and anyone else might have missed it. Kaisa, however, had spent too much time with her, had shared too many conquests and downfalls with this woman to not be able to pick it up.

“We met one night and fell in love almost instantly. But we knew nothing of each other… I spent my life hoping he’d find me, and he spent his life not being able to because he didn’t know how. He spent his life regretting not having asked me out on that first night. Do you see what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Be grateful Johanna knows where I work and for modern technology?”

Tildy gave her a glare that made her sure that if looks could kill, she’d need a spot at Guglow’s. Even her familiar, who had moved to lie atop of her head, seemed to be staring at her with impatience, and Kaisa sighed in defeat.

“I understand the lesson, Tildy. And even though I don’t really agree in this ‘love at first sight’ talk and your extreme carpe diem mentality, I’ll… try to do something. So as not to become a target for your crossbow practice, if anything.”

Finally pleased, Tildy smiled.

“Smart girl!”

_#_#_#_

“Hey, mum, what are you doing?”

Slouched over a cookbook in her bedroom, Johanna hadn’t even heard it when Hilda opened the door. Her daughter sat near her on the bed and tried to take a peak at what she was reading.

“I’m trying to find any condensed milk recipes in our old recipe book.” She explained, though she knew that at that point she all but had that book’s contents memorized. “Kaisa seems to like it a lot… she was very kind to both of us at the party, I wanted to make her something as a late winter festival gift, even if it’s just a batch of cookies.”

“Sounds like a good idea. You could take the chance and ask if she has any recipes she’d prefer.”

Finally Johanna dragged her eyes away from the book, and noticed Hilda had a sly smile on. “What do you mean?”

“The doorbell rang, remember? She’s at the door.”

“What?!” Johanna jumped from the bed, wondering how Kaisa knew where she lived before remembering she could have gotten the address from the library records, or from Frida, Matilda, and even from Hilda herself. Before leaving the room, she glanced at the mirror to check her appearance, which made Hilda lift an eyebrow.

She was sure she wasn’t imagining the blush on the librarian’s face when she opened the door, but she was more worried about the fact that she probably had one of her own.

“I wonder where it came from.” Kaisa quoted Johanna’s words from the night before, from when they’d seen the first mistletoe on the kitchen’s doorway, and bit back a grimace when she realized she’d forgotten to say “good afternoon”. There was no coming back from that, so she continued. “That’s what you said about the mistletoe’s tradition yesterday. I, ah, got curious. So I did some research and found out it actually comes from mythology. And biology. The biology of the plant mattered too, you see.”

There was a beat of silence in which Johanna just blinked at her, and Kaisa was afraid she’d slam the door on her face for turning up in her house out of the blue to talk about mistletoe lore the day after a holiday. Instead, she opened a grin.

“That sounds fascinating!” Johanna said, feeling her heart pick up pace. Not only had Kaisa truly listened to what she said, but she’d had the mind to look for answers and to come all the way to her house to tell her what she’d found. “I’m working on an evergreens pattern for a series of products, I actually think knowing more about these aspects of them would give me a lot of inspiration!”

Standing up a little straighter, Kaisa couldn’t hold back a breathy chuckle of relief that Johanna seemed to be taking that attempt well.

“I was hoping you’d let me tell you more about it over coffee?” She asked as she bit down on her bottom lip. “If you’re busy right now-”

“No, no!” Johanna waved her hands in front of her. “I’m completely free.”

Perhaps that hadn’t been the best thing to say, since she had just informed her that she was working on a project, but Kaisa didn’t seem skeptical of her answer at all, only happy. Her grey eyes lit up, as beautiful as the snow outside when the weak winter sun shone on it.

“Oh.” Kaisa breathed. She seemed surprised, and maybe even amazed by the situation, and it filled Johanna with warmth. If she seemed awe struck by something so simple, she couldn’t possibly be used to being appreciated, and Johanna couldn’t wait to change that. Figuring Kaisa had already done the most of the reaching out just by going there, she spoke up again.

“There’s a pretty good coffee house in the centre square.” She said. “We could take the chance to pick up some fallen Sostansil flowers, I loved pressing them in my journal when I was younger. Plus, I’m pretty sure they sell their cookbooks there, and I just discovered I need a new one.”

As if by work of magic, confidence seemed to return to Kaisa’s stance. “That sounds lovely!”

“I’ll just check with Hilda if it’s alright to leave her alone and-”

“Don’t worry about me.” Both of them startled when they noticed Hilda had been standing a few meters away, in the kitchen. “I’ve got to do homework and walk Twig.”

“Hilda, it’s impolite to listen to other people’s conversations.” Johanna called out. All the girl did was mutter an amused ‘sorry’ and walk back to her room.

Since when Johanna looked back at the librarian she didn’t look put off by Hilda’s behaviour, she took a step back and pointed behind herself.

“In this case, I’ll just grab my coat and we can go. I’d love to hear all about what you found out.”

Kaisa’s smile was the last thing Johanna saw before she ran off to her room. It was intriguing, she thought, how the mistletoe hadn’t needed to be above her head to help her.

Maybe, from then on, she’d like it a lot more.

#fic: nmaoh #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #kaisa hilda fanfic #johanna hilda fanfic

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 4 years ago

Text

An Obituary for Identity Politics

I began writing this text about a couple months before the uprising in response to George Floyd’s death. The uprising, which now has become a global event, has motivated me to share my perspective in this text. My experiences in Minneapolis from the 26th through the 31st of May have furthered my contempt for identity politics and so I have included additional critiques of it based on those experiences.

Rewind back to a time and place where people used pagers and pay phones. When front porches and public parks were the hang-out spots. A time when conflicts were resolved face-to-face and shit-talking came with real life consequences. These were the days before ‘call-out culture’, ‘troll-baiting’, and other internet-dominated social activities. Some say the internet and technological expansion have advanced the fight against oppression. My opinion? The internet is where all potential for social revolt goes to die. In addition to pointless petitions and endless memes, recognition as a rebel can be gained through pity parties and academic loyalty rather than hands-on direct action. While providing an excellent breeding ground for keyboard warriors and pretentious academics, the internet also allows for the stunted development of social skills necessary in navigating face-to-face communication. Conflict resolution takes the form of indefinite internet drama and at most an awkward in-real-life re-construction of judge, jury, and executioner. Face-to-face interaction is almost unnecessary in the techno-society where phones have become a personalized commodity seemingly fused to one’s hand. From a screen with adjustable dimming, a full spectrum of emotional expression can now be digitally represented from a cache of emoticons.

The internet is also a place where the lynch-mob mentality of “call-out culture” encourages people to view one another as one-dimensional beings – only defined by mistakes and imperfections. In the name of ‘social justice’ and ‘outing abusers’, a new statism emerges, utilizing fear and guilt to coerce allyship conformity. And similar to being charged by the State, once condemned on the internet, an individual may never escape that reputation. Instead, any or all personal growth and development remains trivial to the static nature of their past mistakes. Despite personal improvement, a convicted individual is sentenced to forever remain captive by the essence of their online portrayal.

In my experience as a ‘marginalized voice’ I’ve seen identity politics used by activists as a tool of social control aimed at anyone who fits the identity criteria of ‘oppressor’. The traditional power-struggle for equality has turned into an olympic sport for social leverage, inverting the same social hierarchy that should have been destroyed in the first place. Many identity politicians I’ve come across are more interested in exploiting “white guilt” for personal (and even capital) gain than physically confronting any organizational model of white supremacy. I’ve witnessed victimhood used to conceal blatant lies and bullying, motivated by personal revenge. All too often I have seen how identity politics creates a culture where personal experiences are trivialized to the point of passive silence. But this is all old news. Any experienced, self-identifying anarchist has seen or probably experienced some form of being ‘called-out’ or ‘cancelled’. So why do I bring it up? Because I still see this shit happening and I still see so many people lacking the courage to openly confront it.

I don’t expect this text to bring identity politics to a grinding halt. I am merely expressing my hostility for it and its authoritarian, anti-individualist nature. I still see self-proclaimed anarchists fussin’ over ‘white’ dreads (as well as seeing people cut their dreads under social pressure). I still see people justify voting like they did for Obama (this time it’s for Bernie). And I still see ‘allies’ mumbling frustration under their breath, too scared to confront the authoritarianism they see right in front of ‘em.

How many ‘white’ anarchists were called racist (or privileged) and shamed for refusing to vote this past 2020 election?

Imagine what anarchy would look like if people refused to obey the condescending demands of identity politicians. Would people feel more free to explore their lives beyond the narrow limitations of prescribed identity? Would they fearlessly reclaim their power to formulate their own opinions? Is there a joy to be experienced in the hysterical mockery of academic elitism?

Would this text be less valid if it wasn’t written by a queer person of color? What if I was a ‘white’, ‘cis’ ‘male’? Why would it matter?

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t. Because after all, this isn’t just about identity. This is about anti-authoritarian anarchy. If there is one thing I have seen the most in the past few years, it’s how identity politics moves like a plague, consuming every social space — ironically including anarchist circles. For me, anarchy is about destroying socially assigned identity and all the limitations it imposes upon the imagination. Anarchy is an individualist experience that finds itself held captive by the prison of assigned identity. Rather than destroying that prison along with the society that constructs it, anarchism today has become a cemetery of dead potential, internalized victimhood, and an ideological competition for who is ‘most oppressed’.

Rather than taking aim at identity itself and the apparatus maintaining this paradigm, energy is spent tearing one another down, ignoring the complexity of individual uniqueness, and playing the State’s role of defining each other based on membership to identity categories. Embracing a particular identity only reaffirms that identity’s existence as a ‘universal ‘truth’ – and therefore, by the colonial intentions of assigned identity, the servitude and enslavement of some to others as a universal truth as well.

I refuse to participate in upholding enslavement as a condition of my existence, and therefore these ‘truths’ are nothing more than political works of fiction. They are the products of a well-perfected, socially engineered god-complex that enters the mind like parasitic cordyceps, demanding unquestionable obedience. The atom of mental manipulation is a mind institutionalized by the incarceration of industrial society. Identity politics are the antiquated chains of colonization, polished by those who assign personal value to them. These ‘truths’ are the social constructs of control, keeping the life of rebellion shackled in a cold well of reform. And while many have become comfortable there, I have broken out to explore the infinite unknown terrain of hedonism and anti-political anarchy. ‘Black’, ‘Brown’, or ‘White’ power is the antithesis of freedom; it is the ideological charity work of a civilized, humanist form of rebellion. Identity politics is the sterilization of individuality, rendering it both obedient to the collectivist authority of identity and gullible to the nationalist myth of supremacy.

Ultimately, the ‘human’ is an animal domesticated with labels socially constructed to correspond to a hierarchy of economic status. And though this hierarchy has changed over the years, it is constantly held in place by a relationship of those who make demands and those who obey. No matter how the categories are arranged, the hierarchy represents authoritarianism; the group dominating the individual. What defines a ‘human’ is the degree of obedience and commitment to civilized roles and behaviors required by industrial society. The less cooperative a ‘human’ is, the more likely that ‘human’ will be compared to an animal. The animal is the undesireable being – even for the identity politicians who prefer to adopt the colonizers’ ideological anthropocentrism. Perhaps this explains why there is such little discussion on animal liberation in leftist-anarchist writing. The marginalized voice is more concerned with being portrayed as equal to the civilized colonizer than with the lost connection between their animality and the earth. At the core of leftist politics is the humanist aim for social equality within industrial progress — all while the earth continues to be cut up into nation-states and ravaged for anthropocentric exploitation and expansion.

It is my opinion that as long as one maintains a personal relationship with the ‘human’ identity, similar to ‘white’ or ‘male’ identities, the individual will only continue to reinforce the colonial paradigm of civilized vs savage. And as long as this reinforcement continues, the individual also remains vulnerable to imprisonment within other identity constructs that further suppress feral potential.

I wonder when or if anarchists in general will move beyond the group-mentality of leftism toward individualist insurgency — recognizing confrontation with identity as an act of personal emancipation. Will anarchists one day come to realize that anyone or anything above the individual represents an authority figure – whether it be “The Commune”, the “Movement”, or the cultural governance of identity? Maybe some, but I am sure not all.

The Victimhood Saint

After a 45 minute drive we finally arrive. It’s been a long day of retail theft and this is the last stop. It’s my turn and I plan to walk out with at least $500+ worth of merchandise for online resell. But I’m already gettin’ a bad feeling from this place. Unlike the other locations, this store is much smaller which to me means Loss Prevention will have a visual advantage watching the doors. Bigger places mean the enter and exit doors are spread further apart. In addition, the bigger the store, the more difficult it is to keep track of every shopper through the cameras. I decide to go for it anyways. Never know anything for sure until ya try.

I walk in, grab a cart and begin searching for the specific items I plan to take. I also scan the check out lanes and customer service desk. Two customer service employees busy chatting, check out lanes all blocked off except the one near the entrance and two near the exit. The entrance lane has a worker wiping down carts. One exit lane has a cashier, the lane next to it is totally empty. I take note of it as looking “too easy”, but I decide to refocus on where my items are located in the store. After loading my cart I start my journey to the exit. For anyone who shoplifts for a living, they know this is the exciting part. Every moment up to this point I’ve been just a regular shopper. But now, as I walk toward the exit, I begin to shed the costume of “shopper” and prepare for the criminal experience of “shoplifter”. As my heart starts to pound I feel my nerves initiate a well — developed calming response where I temporarily disassociate from the panic in order to keep my senses sharp and focused. I have to be ready for anything. And I still have to maintain my “regular shopper” face and body language. As I pass through the “too easy” lane everything looks good.

Customer service people are still chatting not paying attention, the one cashier is too busy ringing up someone to notice. I pull out my fake receipt and casually make my way through the first set of exit doors. If I was seen or caught, this is about the moment I would hear someone approach me from behind or feel someone grab my shoulder. Out the second set of doors, all is good. Time to start making my way toward the back of the parking lot – and then it happened...

Anyone who has ever shoplifted long enough knows these dreaded words: “Sir... Sir!”. I hear someone behind me yell out. I pretend to not hear it. Then I hear quick footsteps approach from behind. “Sir, I need to see your receipt” he says as he flashes me his Loss Prevention badge. Fuck. Where did this clean-cut lookin’ hipster see me? Must have been in the clothes area behind me... maybe that lane was a fucking trap? Doesn’t matter. Let go of the cart and walk away. I start to walk away and I hear “No no...sir we have to go back inside and fill out paperwork. Don’t worry you will not be arrested”. Yeah, fill out paperwork with all my information, have my picture taken for their records – fuck that. I continue walking away. Another LP runs out and is on the phone. This guy is on the phone with the police. I instantly realize the first guy was secretly stalling me till the police got there! I break out in full run. I hear them both running close behind me. I cross the street and bolt into a trailer park, zig zag between trailer homes and finally hide out in a steel shed. I force my paniced breathing to quiet deep breaths. I calm down and listen to them searching for me nearby.

Finally after not hearing them anymore I text my accomplices a rough idea of where I am. I come out of the shed, trying to tidy up a couple things that fell inside from when I stormed in there. The cops will be here any second. I see my accomplices car slowly drive by and wave em down. I jump in and lay down and we drive off.

I should have trusted my instinct. This was a bad run. But it could have been worse. Instead of being in jail tonight, I am comfortably here writing this text. But this is the reality of shoplifting – or any crime for that matter. No matter how many times you get away with it, it is important to expect to get caught one day. Be ready for it. And when it happens, study the panic, the emotions, the physical responses... know it all well. So the next time you engage in criminal activity, you have a better understanding of the worst case scenario. For me, this is elementary, and there is no place for victimhood or or an outcry of innocence.

While Covid-19 created the conditions for state repression in the form of “stay-at-home” orders, ironically my opportunity for illegalist fun has expanded! Many businesses are left unattended for weeks at a time, meaning property damage goes longer without being reported. In the midst of the panic, supermarket Loss Prevention and security personnel are focused on the number of items people purchase in each cart without realizing the cartloads of food quietly slipping out the other door.

Before shutting down, many stores like REI, L.L Bean and other places would deactivate their security towers. I am guessing this was due to the high volume of people passing through with purchased merch with hidden tags still attached. Probably to avoid the annoyance of the alarm going off every few seconds, the towers were turned off, leaving open a grand opportunity to simply walk out with security tagged items hassle-free.

The past few weeks got me revisiting old memories of when my understanding of anarchy was that of an activity that only lasted as long as a may day march, a demonstration, or night-time fun. I remember feeling like anarchy was the moment I wore black pants, shoes, gloves and a t-shirt around my face. After these activities it was back to the “real world”. Back to wage-slavery, back to the daily routine of paying rent and penny-pinching my food stamps for groceries. Sure, there was the occasional clandestine activity along with tabling zines at punk shows or radical events. But there was this divide that always created a separation, always treating anarchy like an extra-curricular activity. Sure, my life was committed to rebellion; the very concept of a zine distro before I named it “Warzone Distro” was conceived while wasting company time on the shitter. Despite wage-slaving, my mind was always fixated on understanding how to cut corners and work the least for the most amount of money. I was the worker who handed my extra hours over to others. Half-day at work due to light truck load? Hell yeah, I’m out!

Over time, anarchy as mere extra-curricular activity just wasn’t enough. And what I mean by that is I became less and less tolerable of bosses, wage-slaving, alarm clocks, paying rent, and penny-pinching. I remembered what it was like being a kid and not having to conform to such obligations. I remembered adventuring all day outside from early morning to late at night. Everyday was a new adventure, and everyday I was learning something new about myself. Then, as a responsible adult I was learning something new about myself. I hated adultism, adulting, and the performative role and identity of “adult”. But I wasn’t tryin’ to become a child again. Those days have come and gone. I began to wonder what an anarchist life that transcended the adult/child binary could look like.

Fast forward years later here I am, jobless but no longer penny-pinching, and older but more youthful than I have ever been. Some say I am the worst of all worlds; hedonistic, violent, and childish. Of course, what these words mean and how they are applied to me is subjective to interpretation, but one thing is for certain; I feel far more free than I have ever felt and experienced. And I have a love affair with crime. It is an intimate experience — committing crime with a furious contempt for society and the law. Causing disruption and getting away with it compliments my desires for anarchy moment by moment. Nowadays I adventure all day outside from early morning to late at night. And with every criminal activity I am learning more and more about myself. In addition to accepting the fact that my days of joy-riding the fuck out of life will either end in prison or sudden death, I am learning to appreciate the present more than the past or future.

One thing about crime that I have come to realize is a uniqueness that comes with breaking the law, a sense of individual ability, inability, strengths and weaknesses. All are discovered within the experience of breaking the law. And it is this experience that I intend to expand in order to discover more about myself, becoming ungovernable in an anti-social sense.

I reflect back on my past self imprisoned by the cult of identity-politics. I remember how one reason to glorify victimhood was to gain social attention and portray the (marginalized) identities assigned to me in a positive light. “Look at me! A responsible queer person of color holding down a job as a law-abiding citizen!”. But why? So I could prove how similar I was to all those ‘white’ hard-working class heroes that America needs to uphold its colonial establishment? Another wage-slave to passively, willfully accept the conditions of my enslavement? To become another christian of color pretending there is an imaginary kingdom above for all us hoodlums that just never got a fair chance in life? Fuck all that.

The reasons for white supremacists, homophobes, patriarchs, and patriots to fear people like me is beyond identity politics; I am a sworn enemy of their control and order. The societal castle they seek to build and maintain will always be the target of my sabotage!

I think most people can see and understand that embracing socially assigned identities is not necessary for understanding how society utilizes them as tools for social control. I think it is equally as easy to see how identity as a tool of revolution is limited and in fact has led to internal conflict within many revolutionary projects. But what blows my mind is the fact that for so many, these identities were not immediately rejected as a primal, personal form of rebellion. But to be fair I think it is safe to say that these identities maintained the power they do because they are so frequently used by leftist organizations for moral persuasion. Through victimhood and innocence, identity politics is used as an appeal-to-all method of creating group-think that ultimately encourages an individual to surrender independent thinking to a god-complex of morality and collectivism. I think this also plays a pretty big role in statism and the rejection of illegalist revolt.

I reject the statist, civilized binary of guilt and innocence, and therefore also reject the internalization of victimhood. I have no use for “call-out culture” or an internet lynch-mob against my enemies. On the internet, attempts to gain public support against one enemy only informs and empowers another enemy (the state) to confiscate my responsibility. And guilt and innocence is a legalistic binary that only serves to judge and divide based on moral determination. I despise the State, all its social manifestations, and it’s enforcement of repression against chaos. Therefore I am not a victim; I am a self-declared enemy in a war against it. I don’t expect pity, a pardon or charity from it, nor from its defenders.

It was the day Chicago issued its Stay-At-Home order. My partner-in-crime and I were in my home town visiting my mom. While driving home from getting my mom some groceries I notice someone sitting on a park bench alone. “Big Momma” is her name. I was surprised to see her outside in the cold and not indoors at one of the local shelters. Come to find out the shelters had closed their doors probably related to Covid-19. I started to wonder how many others were outside in the cold...

My partner and I head over to a park that I used to do Food Not Bombs at and to my surprise there are about 20 people set up camp outside a building’s air vent blowing out warm air. We walk over and ask how everyone is doing. Some people, after recognizing me from activist projects years ago, excitedly run over to greet me. They are all the unlucky ones locked out of the shelters at least for that weekend. My partner and I get back in the car and come up with a plan.

A half hour later we are at another grocery store. Unlike other times, getting out of this one with free food is going to be a little difficult. The set-up has changed due to heightened security at the door due to Covid-19 and the fear of looting. But it is still possible to get out with a full cart. We load the bottom of the cart with bottled water, multiple loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly, over 20 bags of mixed dried fruit, fresh apples and bananas. Were ready. We make our way to the door with me leading. My role is to peer around the corner at two self-check out clerks to make sure they aren’t looking. If they are, I will pull out my phone like I am making a phone call. If not, I keep walking forward. My partner and the cart close behind, the coast is clear. First set of doors... second set of doors... all good. Finally get to the car and unload into the trunk. Success! Next stop is another grocery store, but we won’t be getting food at this one: we’re raiding the men’s and women’s bathrooms for huge rolls of toilet paper. The dispensers can be a little loud opening sometimes, but relatively easy to do with any kind of house key. Two backpacks filled with about three huge rolls each, we are all set.

Back at my moms we clean our hands thoroughly before making bags and bags of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Once we finish with that were off back to the homeless encampment. Every person gets two sandwiches, two apples, two bananas, some dried fruit and a bottle of water. In addition we wrap the toilet paper rolls in the grocery bags to keep dry and pass them out. We stick around for a bit and exchange laughs and talk shit on the cops. It was good to make new friends and catch up with old friends. It was good to see they were all maintaining and in high spirits despite the circumstances of the weather and the shelter closures. We left and decided to check other parks for people. Found a few lone wolves who happily took what we had left of the water and sandwiches. We arrive back at my mom’s house and settle in for the night. I open the fridge and giggle while scanning over all the stolen vegan food contemplating what to have for dinner.

The Allyship Coward

In my opinion, the concept of “Allyship” started with good intentions, but like other aspects of identity politics became sour and ready for immediate disposal. Here is how I feel about “Allyship”: If you need a politicized buzzword and concept to motivate you to build bonds with people across gendered or racial categories, your “solidarity” is disingenuous. If your style of communicating is loaded with talking points pre-approved by some Woke Ally 101 workshop, you have become a free-range puppet. Genuine mutual aid or solidarity doesn’t require trendy twitter phrases to motivate bond building. In other words, don’t work with me only because that’s what you read is the “right” thing to do, or because your progressive college professor told you to. Don’t kiss my ass and follow me because I am a victimized, ‘marginalized’ or ‘poc voice’. Or because your friends or comrades will guilt you. Don’t let something as fake as socially constructed categories define our relationship. Work with me only if you personally enjoy our interaction, my personality and most importantly you want to out of individual desire. I don’t believe in coercive mutual aid: it makes a fool out of two people at once.

There are also those who assume they know how other people think based on racial and gendered assumptions. These are the identity politicians who act as both police and representatives of others, coercing allyship through guilt and shaming campaigns. Using their identity, they declare themselves beyond reproach while utilizing a passive-aggressive method of communication for intimidation. But in my opinion, nobody is obligated to support or listen to them, or any one, especially based on something as flat as identity. I am always weary of those who talk as if they represent the interests of people they have never met. It is foolish to think that just because people are socially assigned similar identities that every individual subscribes to the stereotypes of those identities.

Identity politics has successfully offered an understanding of how civilized society works, but as a solution to tearing it all down only leads to boundary policing identities, nationalism, internalized victimhood, and more stereotypes for people to find themselves fighting against.

Wanna know someone’s experience? Interact with them directly. Don’t make assumptions based on social constructions. Wanna show solidarity with people? Treat them as individuals with unique experiences and histories, not as mere drone members of homogenized groupings. And to those who still obey without questioning, another word for white ally is still coward!

The Woke Leadership

Personally, I don’t like to use the word “educate” to describe the communication of ideas between two individuals. “Educate” implies the instillation of universal “truths” rather than the horizontal exchange of personal perspectives. The context of which I see this word “Educate” used the most reinforces a social hierarchy between those who are “woke” and those who are not. Do people actually learn anything when the communication of ideas is asserted in a top-down manner? Maybe. But I prefer not to entertain that hierarchy.

Individual people are more than just ‘white’, ‘brown’ or ‘black’, ‘male’ or ‘female’, or whatever social construction assigned to them at birth. Therefore, communicating with identity-based assumptions will almost always come off as condescending. I see shit like “educate your friends”, or “get educated”, as if to direct toward a Church of Social Justice in order to be “awakened”. And apparently the capitalist mentality of further monetizing information is acceptable without question. Some think the ‘labor’ of answering questions merits a wage, citing something as voluminous as a Google search if one is unable to pay. Ironically, many questions come in good-faith, and are from well-intending activists who endure being talked down to in the first place. In my opinion, this elitist way of responding to well-intending people discourages their empowerment by trivializing their personal histories and guilting them into accepting others as paramount. There is a collectivism to this method of “educating” which creates the foundation of another social system of coercion. I have no interest in contributing to the materializing of that. I can offer a critical view or counter a point without socially stratifying the exchange.

I consider each and every individual mind a rushing, wild waterway of ideas that spill out when the dam of social subordination breaks down. Society collectively discourages any wildness, domesticating the individual and ultimately creating a caged animal within the mind. Beneath all the social conditioning there is a unique individual that discovers itself in chaotic contradiction with society.

Uniformity is the enemy of free expression. There is no “education”, only popular opinion enforced by those who intend to think for others. I think ideas and perspectives can be exchanged in a way that doesn’t resemble an authoritarian model of top-down communication. I’m not an educator and I seek to educate no one. Rather, as they grow and develop, I share my personal experiences and ideas with the world with the understanding that others will differ and have unique experiences of their own.

For example one thing that I have come to realize is that the illegalist life isn’t for everyone. I have seen some people do it for a while and ultimately break under the weight of the very real stress of criminal activity. So when I write these words about criminality – and my contempt for identity politics – I speak only for myself. When I began writing “Descending into Madness”, it was the same night I had walked out of a Seattle REI with two packs worth over $300 each. The security tower alarms never went off as I walked right out with two rope-style security tags attached. Prior to walking out I joked with myself that my criminal affairs indicated that I was descending into madness because attempting this was fucking crazy. And then I was successful. And I realized on the car ride home that if it wasn’t for entertaining such courageous insanity I might not have never known that some of these stores have non-operational security towers.

In my opinion, the “Woke Leadership” of leftism leads anarchism over a cliff into a downward accelerating disintegration. Paralyzed by the fear and shame enforced by a new order, some anarchists will never make it to self-emancipation, or independent thinking as a rejection of group-think authority. It is by a narrow, liberal definition of anti-oppression that many individuals define themselves as anarchists – a type of definition that limits anti-oppression to the moralist, humanist confines of civilized society. It is not a coincidence that most anti-oppression praxis requires a statist apparatus to enforce laws that accommodate equal rights. And while there’s nothing wrong with people having equal rights under capitalism, that victory celebrates the power of statist reform rather than anti-authoritarian attack. And in front of this statist power are the “community leaders” or those who have no interest in critiquing authority. Instead, they have built their socio-political careers on petty reforms in the name of “the community” and scold radicals – calling them “outside agitators”. And following behind these leaders are ‘white’ anarchist allies, confused and frustrated, trying to decide between being called a racist for setting shit on fire or a good ally for kissing a ‘black’ preacher’s ass.

“What you or I may or may not consider ‘tactical’ isn’t really relevant. This is less a war in the traditional sense and more a storm -uncontrollable and chaotic. This is one of the problems with the left’s characterization of ‘the movement’ as something uniform, monolithic, and ideologically consistent. It isn’t. It won’t be. ‘The movement’ consists of a million individuals with their own individual views and opinions and actions, and it does no one any good to deride anyone who isn’t doing things exactly the way you see fit.” Baba Yaga

Another Word For “Black Leadership” is Authoritarianism

After marching, we arrive at the 3rd Precinct at East Lake St and Minnehaha Ave. BLM organizers begin howling into the megaphone about demands, with a few prayers and droning chants mixed in. I notice someone slowly creeping up behind me who starts bangin’ his fist on the window. Concerned it will break, three bystanders begin quietly shaming him “this ain’t the place for that, keep it peaceful!”. The person responds back quietly but with angry tension in his voice “that’s the fuckin’ problem, y’all muthafuckas never wanna do shit except march and chant...”. Discouraged, he starts to walk away. “I’m with you on that shit fo real tho” I tell him. “That’s what’s up – fuck all this other shit” he responds while walking away. A minute or so later, I lose my patience for listening to BLM talk about being peaceful and decide to go look for that same individual again. I round the corner to the back of the police station and notice a commotion. A group of about 5–7 ‘black’ folks are blocking the back glass doors of the police station, arguing with a group of about 20 ‘black’ and ‘brown’ angry youth – including the one from earlier. Unable to contain my own frustration I get caught up arguing with the police-defenders as well. Finally, in the middle of the shouting a couple of ‘black’ and ‘brown’ youth begin spray painting “fuck 12” near the commotion. Cheers behind me erupt from a crowd that has now tripled in size. A brawl breaks out near the doors, and then a single rock smashes through the precinct window and is immediately followed by a hail storm of rocks, street cones, water bottles, and anything else within reach. The group of 5–7 ‘black’ pacifists cry out in desperation to stop the destruction, going as far as attempting to physically detain people, but ultimately are overwhelmed. They try to collect the rocks after being thrown and find themselves in multiple physical confrontations while doing so. People from the front of the building run over and join in on the vandalism. Eventually after every window is smashed the crowd moves toward the police parking lot and begin damaging police cars. I finally pause to catch a breath when I hear a stun grenade go off. The police run out from another door and begin shooting rubber bullets and tear gas. The crowd disperses but with hysterical laughs of joy and accomplishment. The 3rd Precinct is in ruins — and little did I know this was all just the beginning.

The very next day a bigger crowd of mostly ‘black’ and ‘brown’ youth showed up and continued to wage war on the 3rd Precinct. By night, a three mile radius was liberated from police control by the people on those streets. The 3rd Precinct was breached and taken over. Police abandoned the area all together. Their building was looted and cop cars driven into the street and set on fire. A Target across the parking lot was broken into and looted along with other stores nearby. People celebrated the victory by shooting off their guns in the air. Strangers sang and danced around burned out cop cars, exchanged high-fives in passing, and shared looted food. People casually socialized in front of burning buildings while others threw rocks through the remains of store front windows for target practice.

While it might have seemed like a perfect utopia, it wasn’t divorced from reality. Fights broke out between small factions of people and long-awaited personal conflicts were solved in the now cop-free streets. Business owners shot and killed looters and low-income housing units burned to the ground. But this is the difference between the textbook, sugar-coated ideologies of politics and raw, unmediated rage. The revolt didn’t happen due to any teachings of Mao or religious messages from a god. The fires, looting, and attacks against police didn’t need Marxism, a transcript of The Coming Insurrection, or an academic course on the history of anarchism. All that was needed was the chaotic expression of rage against representations of authority.

As expected, many people on the internet – including many self-proclaimed anarchists — passed judgement on the situation – most often coming from an ideological position that placed value in uniformity and a narrowed range of “acceptable” forms of revolt. In my experience, uprisings like this flourish best when least controlled or organized. The more that expressions of anger are controlled and organized the less anarchistic they become — essentially becoming pacified to accommodate a particular political vision. For me that is undesirable and also unrealistic. Destruction is destruction, violence will be violence, and to expect an uprising to be anything less is naive at best. While some can sit on the sidelines and moralize specific tactics or forms of emotional expression, they disregard the reality that full-fledged warfare has no inherent morality. Businesses that were boarded up and declared “black owned” weren’t spared by any moral consideration; they too were broken into, looted, and subsequently burned to the ground.

Also, in my opinion, the more uncontrollable and unmanageable an uprising remains, the less likely the police will have the ability to adapt to its formation and dominate it. The police had the least control over hundreds of individuals rebelling in such a chaotic manner as to overwhelm them and send them fleeing.

Over the next few days, attacks against the 5th Precinct happened while liberals, pacifists, and identity politicians quietly crawled back to avenge their loss and inability to control the first riot. The internet became their ground zero for one of the worst campaigns of lies and fear mongering I have personally ever seen.

As the victories of burning cop cars and police stations circulated online from all over the states, liberals rushed to the scenes in a desperate authoritarian attempt to assert their ideological morality and political program. They insist on a narrative that labels anyone who engages in sabotage as a “white supremacist” or “undercover cop” “infiltrating” the uprising.

Many of these liberals are the same ‘black’ people who failed to stop ‘black’ and ‘brown’ rebels from looting and destroying property. They failed to convince all ‘white’ people to evacuate the riots (because even some ‘white’ people knew not all ‘black’ or ‘brown’ people have a problem with them being there – recognizing their value as accomplices). And in an effort to preserve capitalist, reformist values, liberals of all races sought to halt the looting and vandalism by bombarding social media with blatantly false information. This false information is riddled with catch phrases like “outside agitators” and “white supremacists” in order to emotionally motivate readers to chose a side within a false dichotomy. And those who are not physically on the streets or there with rebels battling police are the target audience of these narrowed, inaccurate representations of reality.

Different ideological motives create different interpretations of events. And since liberals and pacifists tend to dominate social media more than those who are too busy out in the streets, they have an advantage. And since liberals morally frame all people of color as obedient, victimist heroes, most people have difficulty admitting that people of color are capable of destroying property and participating in violent forms of protest. This also plays into the compulsion to blame ‘white’ people for forms of rebellion considered morally undesirable. Riots/uprisings are not all utopian and pretty. They are the dangerous elements of liberation that occur when all other options have failed. Whether people are afraid of violence or not won’t change the fact that police kill, and will continue to kill as long as the concept of law enforcement exists. In my opinion there is no “bettering” the police, and there is no “justice” when someone is already being buried six feet deep.

And the police are not all ‘white’. ‘Black’ cops kill ‘black’ people too.

The worst part about the online interpretation of events is that the people spreading this misinformation fail to communicate to the online-world the joy, smiles, singing and dancing of racially diverse rebels as they celebrated the destruction of the 3rd Precinct.

I mean shit, imagine being a person of color, harassed by police all your life, and then a day and night comes when you actually get to see a police station burning, and police completely abandoning the area. All this is erased from history when liberals credit it all to a group of people — white supremacists — who didn’t exist in those battles in the first place.

To this day as I write this, there are still people spreading conspiracy theories on the internet like the famous “brick bait” video of cops unloading bricks (behind their own building – not in an alley as originally propagated). While I can’t say for absolute certainty that there were no white supremacists at the events at all (I mean I saw some driving past in pickup trucks yellin’ white power shit, and the ‘brown’ dude who rolled up in a truck rockin’ pro-police slogans and a confederate flag) I sure as hell didn’t see any in the battles. I have seen pictures of ‘black’ people locking arms to protect riot police, white allies turning other ‘white’ people over to the police in the name of ‘black’ support, and ultimately police regaining control and using these pacifying efforts to brutalize peaceful protesters.

Feral Delinquency

It is my opinion that the last months expose weaknesses of civilization in very obvious ways. Governmental control had increased as a panic response to social tension and spontaneous ruptures of illegal activity. Covid-19 broke the order of daily productivity and civilized slavery, leaving people more time to contemplate their lives and the value of their free time outside of working. The uprisings in response to the murder of George Floyd demonstrated the weaknesses of the police power and control – even at their own home base. At this point I have no earthly idea what will come next.

I admit to finding it fascinating to see non-human animals and the earth flourish in the midst of our industrial despair. To see clearer skies, various animals walking the streets, flooding that loosens the foundation of this concrete jungle. I can’t help but feel both the pandemic and these continued ruptures against authority are better than a return to normality; a normality where death from industrial civilization and the State is as routine as a slaughterhouse in full operation.

I wonder what kinda conversations people are having with each other or with themselves during this blooming destabilization of domesticated order. Will more and more people seize this opportunity to express anger and frustration through random acts of violence and sabotage against one another? Against law enforcement? Against the institutions that have become weaker due to financial loss and now stand more vulnerable than ever? I can only hope the uprisings continue in some capacity – above or below ground which is personally more favorable for me at this point.

Will people beg for the return of the old daily misery of monotony, or will they explore the depths of permanent uncertainty? Return to work or rewild? I guess only time will tell.

But here, I can only speak for myself. My anarchy is my own, as are my thoughts and words in this text. I don’t write to impress any club of internet anarchists who flex intellectual texts for self-congratulatory praise. I make my diary public in an antagonistic effort to mock the victimist, anti-individualist narrative of leftism which currently dominates contemporary anarchism.

I don’t wish for a return to normality and the daily misery of industrial production. I have no desire to celebrate ridiculous “victories” such as police accountability, firings, or prison terms – which will only be followed by the rebuilding of their ruined precincts or perhaps an equally authoritarian “community-based” replacement. I desire nothing less than the total abolition of all governance and policing. And perhaps those who hold some form of elitist power will find me undesirable and will orchestrate a smear campaign against me, banning my writing and “cancel” me from their Movement. But little would they know that the days and nights, between wide fields and the stars, and between the tree tops and the ground – is the domain of my adventure! And with it is a joy that follows anarchy as a vibrant life experience rather than a measure of social capital online, or a theory frozen in an academic journal.

The internet has created a culture of desperation for social continuity and digital validation. It is the breeding ground for “new” concepts of anarchism that are nothing more than communist corpses with hipster aesthetic. Anti-civ anarchy, impregnated by leftism now displays the extent of its power with endless twitter debates on “eco-fascism”. Twitter — a place where reclaiming one’s life and body is shamed by the disciples of privilege politics – is a graveyard of voices glorifying their own death-by-internet.

My animalism looks nothing like adopting the imagery and behaviors of existing animals. Instead it is the silhouette of an illegalist, feral menace dancing around the burning prison of domestication. My abandonment of victionhood is a foreclosure on both the pity politics of morality-based organizing and the sainthood of innocence. My anarchy is an obituary for identity politics. It is a personal insurgency without a future, a dream without the anaesthesia of hope, a declaration of joy with the lifespan of an exploding bomb.

This text is dedicated to all those rebels whose only negotiation with authority is fire and destruction...I am forever inspired by your courageous wrath across racial and gendered lines... To the youth who made history on May 26th, to the rebels who perished, and to those currently held captive for their part in this war against the state. RIP George Floyd

#george floyd #minneapolis #anarcho-nihilism #anti civ #anti identity politics #identity politics #decolonialization #identity #illegalism #individualism #individualist anarchism #Nihilism #post leftism #post left anarchy #rioting #flower bomb

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years ago

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Michael After Midnight: “Pregnant Pussy” by UGK

[TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE, PEDOPHILIA, ETC. NOT SAFE FOR WORK, NOT SAFE FOR LIFE. THE SUBJECT OF THIS REVIEW IS A SONG FEATURING EXTREMELY DEPRAVED LYRICAL CONTENT. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.]

In the year 2010, A Serbian Film was released. The movie is something I refuse to ever watch or review, and for very good reason: the film is unrepentantly bleak, miserable and, oh yeah, it features an infamous scene involving, as the movie describes it, “newborn porn,” where a newborn baby is raped onscreen. As I’m sure you can imagine, I (and anyone who enjoys keeping the contents of their stomach firmly within said organ) really do not think baby fucking is alright. But of course, no one could possibly ever come up with something more depraved than this, right?

Well, I wish I could say that, but almost two decades before that twisted movie, the rap duo UGK (comprised of members Pimp C and Bun B) managed to one-up that fucked up shit.

The early 90s was a wild time for rap music, where violent, edgy gangster rap and the most ludicrous, over-the-top shit thrived. Look at some of the early work by rappers like Snoop Dogg or Eminem, with the cartoonish, boundary-pushing violence and offensive lyrical content. This was the norm. But UGK, most famous for guest starring in Jay-Z’s “Big Pimpin,” went one step beyond everyone else on their Banned EP. On said EP was a song called “Pregnant Pussy,” a song so absolutely fucked up and depraved it would probably give GG Allin pause.

I am going to go line by line of this song and dissect the sheer depravity of this be-all end-all of edgy, offensive humor. This is your last chance. You can still walk away.

youtube

The song begins almost normally, with a slow buildup to the music, but as soon as the main instrumental hits we are slapped in the face with the chorus, which unfortunately is one of the tames lyrics in the entire song:

Pregnant pussy is the best you can get Fucking a bitch while her baby sucking dick

So hopefully you can see the problem here. The problem is that Bun B and Pimp C have a crucial misunderstanding of how pregnancy works. Also they’re pedophiles I guess. This line is repeated a couple of times to let it really sink in, let it really hit you what exactly is being sung, to the point where you might not even notice the line that closes out this opening chorus:

I got your fat pregnant bitch in my waterbed And I'm 'bout to bust a nut on your little baby's head

To be fair, this one is kind of tame in comparison.

Now for our first verse, Pimp C takes the mic and comes in strong!

I guess you can call me a family man Cause I care for bitches' babies every chance that I can

As we are about to find out, no. We can’t call Pimp C a family man. We should not even allow him near babies, and here’s why:

I don't give 'em clothes, or diapers and shit But I like to feed they babies with my big black dick

This is actually a running theme with this song. I’m not simply talking about the rappers and their desire to get fellated by unborn babies, I’m talking about how they casually drop lines like that before switching to stuff that’s comparatively normal and even tame (or tame by the standards of a song about getting blowjobs from fetuses).

Like, look at the lines immediately after the above:

Cause I'ma tell you if you didn't know You ain't did shit 'til you fucked a pregnant hoe The pussy is hotter, it's got a extra kick It feel like hot potato pie around your dick Sometimes I swing high, sometimes I swing low Sometimes I like to fuck a pregnant bitch on my floor Hit it kinda hard, and speed it up fast Fuck her 'til she get the cherry blisters on her ass

It’s filthy and extreme, yes, but this is honestly the sort of horny, crass shit you’d expect from a rap song like this. This is normal, this is... well, “good” is a bit of a strong word, but you know, I’ll take it. Of course, immediately after those lines we get hit with this:

Cause if she expecting, I can satisfy And at the same time, give her kid a pacifier And I love it when I bust that old nut Cause I know that her baby's just gon' lick it all up

This is why we can’t have nice things.

The second verse has Bun B, the other half of UGK, step up to the mic and he delivers more comparatively normal, raunchy, old school rap sentiment:

Ain't no pussy like one impregnated A pussy made for nutting in, I could never hate it A swoll pussy hole is the best on earth And a big dick helps make an easy childbirth I love the big titties but I hate the taste of milk And a bigger, fatter ass on my dick is smooth as silk

Like yeah, this is vulgar and all, but this is pretty good. In their own weird rapper way, they’re showing love for pregnant women, and who says pregnant women shouldn’t get a rap song about how sexy and desirable they are? Maybe this is a turning point for the song, maybe from here things get bet--

Now if she got a boy, it ain't fun But if she got a girl, then it's two pussies for the price of one

The more I listen to this song, the more I feel like these two are just joking, but... why tell this kind of joke? I can’t deny this is funny in a shock humor kind of way, like “Jesus Christ why the fuck are these guys talking about cumming on unborn babies?” but it’s such a fleeting feeling.

Eventually as I listen to the song more and more I become desensitized to the shock and it just leaves me wondering why they thought this was a good idea to record? Did they just decide to go to the most repulsive extreme possible so that no one else ever would?

Once again the song seems like it’s going to be normal. We get like one normal rhyme this time, and then we’re hit with this:

I'm fucking all over the womb Now I move your baby to the side so I can get a little room

This song is pretty definitive proof as to why God no longer speaks with us.

I love to fuck them pregnant hoes Your baby's sneezing out nuts because I bust one in his nose So when your little child is born I bet the motherfucker tell you pregnant pussy got it going on

So, this part here is interesting. We’ve now heard from Pimp C and Bun B, we’ve heard both of them talk about how they love fucking pregnant women and indulging in their weird unborn pedophilia fetish, and that last line is delivered with the exact sort of tone you’d expect from a song wrapping up. It’s followed by the chorus and you think “Sweet fuck, they can’t go any further, can they? This has to be it. They dropped the fucking title in a verse, that’s it, they’re done.”

Sorry to disappoint you, but we live in a cruel, uncaring world.

You see, fuckin' pregnant pussy is simple All you gotta do is hope the baby think your dickhead is a nipple And if the cum snatcha stimulate my sack He just might get a fat load of Similac And if he start kicking, I'ma keep sticking Go a little deeper, give his bad ass a whipping Within nine months, I can hit it late or sooner It's me, Miss Jones, and Mr. Jones Junior And once I get the bitch in the raw Me and her kid can have a nice ménage à trois So believe I ain't kicking no bullshit Cause pregnant pussy is the best you can get

So yes, Pimp C drops this final, nightmarish verse, and then the chorus plays us out.

So, what do I think of the song? What was the point of all this? Is there enough bleach in the world to get this song out of your head?

Well, I think this song is utterly repulsive... but also rather fascinating. It makes songs like Eminem’s “Kim,” which is a six-minute murder fantasy where Em slaughters the titular woman, a six year old, and her boyfriend look incredibly tame. The lyrical content is just a non-stop pedophilic nightmare that goes beyond edgy humor and just leaves you feeling gross and uncomfortable.

But it’s just... fascinating because of that. This shit right here isn’t just a trainwreck. This is a train genocide. Pimp C and Bun B rounded up good taste, lined it up against the wall, and executed it with extreme prejudice. I almost don’t want to get mad, or offended, or disgusted at this, because I feel like if I do the boys of UGK win. The more I listen to this, the more I feel like this is just the ultimate troll song, sputing the most utterly repulsive lyrics one could ever conceive of just to garner a reaction. And I mean, it works.

Frankly, like or hate this song. Either reaction is understandable. I don’t know if this song can even be measured in metrics like “good” or “bad,” it’s just so beyond the realms of good taste, regular taste, human sensation...This shit right here is the sort of thing that almost tanked James Gunn’s career, and somehow these two went on to rap alongside the man Jay-Z himself. Is there any justice in this world? No, no there isn’t, not even a little bit.

But there is pregnant pussy. And I guess that’s something.

#Michael After Midnight #Review #song review #UGK #Pregnant Pussy #Banned #Not Safe For Life

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 15: Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

The walls were painted sky blue, the carpet a faded warm brown hinting at many years passing along leaving a permanent tread. The walls were covered in several posters that James didn't recognize of bands, but also several hand done, and extremely accurate, drawings of dragons that someone had magicked to life for this kid, flying around through each others edges.

It was crowded, the sparse bit of walking space nonexistent with the eight of them all in here at once, hardly much bigger than Harry's cupboard; but the love and care that went into this room was evident.

Lily came forward towards a desk crammed into the back corner and brushed her hand against a greyling snoozing, little blue plums of smoke escaping from its pointed head, the back end of which wasn't quite done. It was clear details were still being added of feathers to the long extended tail.

"Well I officially have no clue where we are," Peter muttered. He'd been the lucky one to land on the bed, but he had automatically moved to the edge and crossed his ankles, swinging his feet uncomfortably like he expected the occupant to appear and tell him to take his shoes off.

"Hey, wasn't one of Ron's brothers a dragon trainer or something?" Alice asked, leaning against the door with the book already in her hands.

"Dragon keeper," the older Black corrected with a look of disgust, clearly unable to grasp the concept of why anyone would want such a thing.

"I'm getting the feeling Harry's going to have some interactions with him then," she returned pleasantly, then read out the chapter title.

Black groaned in disgust and shook his shoulders like he was trying to shake off a nat before slouching over to the window and prodding along the edge like he was going to try and jump out.

"He has a thing against dragons," Potter pleasantly informed all of them needlessly.

Regulus frowned in sympathy, but knowing his brother would only snap his head off if he tried to say anything, he instead went back to investigating the picture. He was sure no one else had even noticed it, but he'd landed right in front of what must be the Weasley family.

It sat proudly against the wall, coupled in with so many other pictures of things it probably went unnoticed despite the red haired family. Regulus couldn't take his eyes off of it. He could easily identify the twins, chasing each other around every inch of available grass and weaving in between their fathers legs who was juggling the infant, whatever that little girls name had been, and who must be Ron hanging off his dad's arm to get his attention. The mother had her arms around the last three all at once, and looked exasperated, but the adoring smile on her face showed she wouldn't be anywhere else.

There was no other context, no telling what was going on before or after it was taken, why the kids were all so rambunctious or who had even taken the photo. It simply captured the moment of the one clear thing Charlie enjoyed in his life, the chaos of his family. It was baffling! All Regulus had ever known was the structure of his family tree, the rules and consequences through watching Sirius break those.

The story wasn't progressing with much interest to anyone even when Hagrid arrived. None knew him that well, so maybe he was always shifty when asked a direct question, though the oddity of him being in the school library when he'd never been known there before was keeping their attention. Ron's discovery just made it all click in a despicable way.

"A dragon! That mad gamekeeper has a dragon in his cabin! A Norwegian Ridgeback on top of everything!"

Remus covered his ears for the volume, but still looked more sympathetic than anything for Sirius' screeching.

"If I ever catch that man doing anything of the sort now I'll add him to my list right after I-"

"Alright Padfoot," James easily roped his arm around him to cut off what three just saw as a tantrum. Those who did know could only wince in sympathy with no real words of comfort for this. James kept trying anyways, "there's no dragons here-"

Then he cut off with a wince at his own stupidity as Sirius snorted in disgust and had to fight back the temptation to burn the walls into real fire.

"What's his problem?" Frank muttered to Alice.

"As if I know," she reminded. She was tempted to ask Regulus who clearly knew, but even though she could see his face he hadn't looked away from the wall this whole time, was still making no attempts to reach out and communicate with any of them, and she wasn't going to force her hand.

Lily, honestly felt a bit of pity for this. She'd never stopped to consider any of them with actual fears, human moments like Black was now showing. All she'd ever seen was their likes, one like to be exact, of their horrid ways against her friend. Now she was watching Potter, all three of them try to comfort their friend in by far the kindest thing she'd ever seen.

His mood only worsened when the kids went to Hagrid's, Hagrid only confirmed what none of them were surprised about. It made sense all of the teachers and not just Quirrell would put up some protection for this thing Dumbledore was protecting. No, it just kept going downhill that there was indeed an egg roasting away in Hagrid's fireplace.

"I actually kind of liked the three headed dog, that was cool once it wasn't trying to eat him anymore! The troll was a menace, but at least manageable! Your kid just couldn't stop there Prongs! A dragon, and it's all Hagrid's fault," Sirius kept up his insistent mutter, trying to push the arm away and get the dang window open that no force of magic or willpower was accomplishing. He was boiling up in here, he could swear those little flickers coming from the end of the dragon's nostrils were coming to life and fixing to leap right off the page towards him-

"Breath Pads," Moony was trying to soothe by instead changing the subject. Which actually made Malfoy feel useful for the first time. "Let's focus instead on plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled."

"Why do you think he didn't just run off and tell on them?" Peter did ask curiously. "What does he have to gain by sitting on this information?"

"Don't know," James begrudgingly said, "but it's the first actual intelligent thing he's done. Looking for an advantage rather than just jumping around to get them in trouble."

Regulus looked up and around at them in surprise, it was the first kind thing he'd ever heard them say about a Slytherin. Then he just assumed they were saying it to throw Sirius off, which wasn't really working. He frowned in a bit of concern now as his brother just got more silent and still when the dragon had hatched. His brother had never actually told them what had happened when he'd been left down in the Gringotts vault, but his parents hadn't paid it much concern since he couldn't have gotten inside to any of the importance, like the gold or heirlooms. Regulus had tried to ask, just out of curiosity, but Sirius had completely ignored him.

Now he was more irked than anything he'd clearly told his mates something, the obvious sympathy for him made that clear. He and Sirius may not have been getting on in recent years, but when had that amounted to he couldn't be told anything?

Alice had no liking for the beasts in particular, but the idea of a baby one was more charming than fearsome like Black seemed to find it, so she read on with cute little spirits about Hagrid's handling of this, up until it bit Ron.

"Okay, now we have a problem," Frank winced and took an extra step back from one particular orange faced lizard that had its fangs exposed. He overbalanced and fell on the bed next to Pettigrew, who raised a brow at him but otherwise ignored that.

"Norwegian Ridgebacks are poisonous," Lupin agreed in a still rather forced conversational tone, while his back was to everyone. He had poked his head under the desk curiously, and came back with a tiny little spindle chair which he nudge against Black, who seemed resistant to sitting down anymore than getting away from the window. "Hope he went to Madam Pomfrey, she never asks too many questions."

"I like to think even she'd demand where he got a dragon bite," Alice disagreed.

Lily flushed a bit but chose not to say anything, having personal experience with the matron not asking one to many questions from a few experimental potions accidents, so actually agreeing with one of the Marauders for once.

The decision to contact Charlie and his quick response was the best thing Sirius had heard this whole chapter, they were getting rid of that beast toot sweet! His small moment of happiness didn't last long.

Things only got worse for the kids dealing with this mess when Malfoy still managed to make everything worse. Thankfully the kids didn't derail their plan for this, Sirius had never heard of a better use of their cloak than riding that monster from their grounds! He just couldn't stop his imagination going haywire, that thing growing larger by the moment and getting loose on the grounds and then roaring so loud his ears started bleeding all while trying to shoot fire that just missed him from the tiny alcove he'd managed to squeeze himself into by the grace of Padfoot. That cart trundling away without him in it, his Uncle Cygnus, and Aunt Druella apparently deaf to his calls to come back. He could still swear he saw Bellatrix laughing as she slipped the goblin something when they turned the corner-

He'd been sat down in the chair without his noticing, Remus' hand firmly on his shoulder and smiling kindly down at him. He wasn't sure what he'd been saying, but it suddenly occurred to him that the weeks he'd been having his blowout with Moony had actually been the longest stretch of time he hadn't had to think about that. Even the weekly potions classes with its kindling cauldrons or some scaly beast Professor Kettleburn had brought to class had managed to remind him of the incident all year.

So lost in his mind, he'd completely missed the part where Malfoy had been caught by McGonagall, and he forced a laugh as Moony quietly explained it to him until Charlie's friends arrived. He'd kiss them both for taking this thing away, though just as likely never go within arms reach of anyone mad enough to handle these beasts for a living. "That whole incident was entirely pointless!" Sirius kept up his furious mutterings he'd been carrying this whole time. Alice was honestly impressed he hadn't run out of breath. "What was the point of that I ask you? It certainly could have been left out and saved me-"

So invested was he in his own rantings, he nearly missed the ending horror of Filch discovering them without their cloak. They got not a single second to live in their shock before they were once again torn away.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Marauders #Wolfstar #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom

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ryttu3k · 4 years ago

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Doing those ship meme questions only it's the new OT3 (Beckett/Sascha/Ilias) because they're my main source of serotonin these days. Occasional appearances from Anatole and Lucita, too.

Not doing all, but there are A Lot.

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Beckett and Sascha actually do have a lot of braincells between them but none of them are in use for 'can sense danger'. Ilias has gained some minor common sense since his 'hey, I'm going to ask our Antediluvian for power to help face its favourite childe oh whoops I am possessed' thing and is usually the one sighing fondly and saving their asses.

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

Ilias. 100% Ilias. He would go out in public in a shirt saying 'I <3 Sascha' and calling them ‘my flower’ while Sascha is just pleased they can't blush any more.

3. Who's the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn't like and how does the other react

God their music tastes are all over the place. Sascha is over a thousand years old and has seen and heard A Lot. They consider the Romantic period 'modern music'. Beckett is similar albeit with about 350 years of it. Ilias got hurled from 1233 to 2004 and after a period of ??? went, "Oh, Romanian music!" and it was. Dragostea Din Tei. Like can you imagine one moment it’s 1233 and the next moment you are listening to Dragostea Din Tei. Also thanks to the language drift they only caught about a quarter of the words so it was this whole thing where he almost, almost was understanding it but the rest was just, “...what.” And that’s how Ilias discovered modern music.

Anyway yeah they’ve pretty much decided that their collective music tastes are so disparate no one is allowed to comment on them.

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Honestly, they all kind of spoil each other, albeit in different ways. Like Ilias will just randomly pop a handmade flower crown on Sascha’s head. Beckett will occasionally find an extremely rare book on his desk and know Sascha found it for him. Beckett always tells Sascha first when he’s found something cool so they can be the first to investigate it. And they absolutely get competitive, yeah.

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

Sascha and Ilias have a mutual blood bond, which is more or less the equivalent of thus. Beckett has a mutual bond with Anatole, but he and Sascha have a level-2 bond.

7. Are their friends/family supportive

Honestly, uh, Sascha and Ilias don’t really have anyone else. Beckett’s companions tend to range from, “They’re terrifying but I trust your judgment :D” (Anatole) to “hahahahahaha if Vykos harms one hair on Beckett’s head I’ll end them” (Lucita) to “WHY” (Aristotle, Okulos, most others tbh).

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Sascha is the one most prone to panic attacks because trauma is a bitch and basically just... Beckett and Ilias both respond by with hugging/gentle restraint (if they’re okay with touch) or by giving them space and doing things like running a hot bath when they’re touch-averse.

9. Which one dissociates

Honestly Sascha spent most of 1234 to 2006 lowkey dissociating, which is fair when there’s literally another essence fused to yours. Post-Dracon, they still get the occasional dissociative episode, but it’s much easier to bring them back to themself.

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them

All three tbh. Beckett stares at Sascha, Sascha either gets a bit self-conscious or a bit ;) , depending on mood. Sascha stares at both Beckett and Ilias and gets a bit embarrassed when caught (Beckett will laugh it off, Ilias will basically be ;D). Ilias stares at both and is completely shameless about it because he may no longer be on the Path of Pleasure but he’s absolutely not going to feel ashamed for admiring his gorgeous lovers.

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Beckett and Sascha travel too much for one place, honestly, and Ilias accompanies them a lot. They do have a few houses scattered throughout the world, though, including one in the Carpathians (nowhere near Brasov, tyvm). Not really as big as the monastery, it’s mostly like... big library, a few comfortable places to sleep or rest, Ilias likes having a garden these days and grows a lot of flowers.

12. What do their dates look like

Museum heists.

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Ilias gets even more handsy. Actually he can get to be a bit of a pain, but he does listen immediately if one of them tells him to tone it down. Beckett gets very enthusiastic and fired-up and a bit more feral and he’s gonna go find Enoch right now and prove Caine wasn’t real once and for all. Sascha, uh, tends to get a bit emotional and also very talkative, but can literally like. Talk their way into minor breakdowns. Basically less barriers.

14. Which one rolls over in the morning evening to wake up the other one just to kiss them

All three :3

15. Have they saved each other's lives before

Yup!

Ficverse-wise, Sascha did also save Ilias from becoming a bogatyr to the Eldest, although that was also Sascha and Beckett both saving themselves by being emotionally honest. Yeah XD

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Ilias’ spirituality conflicts a bit with Beckett’s... atheism, I guess? Like he’s definitely not sure he believes in the spirits that Ilias regularly works with as a Koldun, but he’s willing to keep a relatively open mind. (He’s a bit less open-minded in Sascha’s belief in - and support of - Caine, given that he’s literally based his career around the metaphor theory!)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

Sascha.

They have troll tendencies, okay.

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

There is absolutely no kinkshaming here. Listen Ilias was a Priest of Jarilo. Sascha was once on the Path of Pleasure too. Beckett seduced Dracula for information then forgot to ask his question. They’re all very open about everything.

There may be teasing about the odd hobby or interest but it’s pretty lighthearted.

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Beckett occasionally has Moments over his hands and worries about hurting Sascha or something. They basically respond by being like “are you kidding the claws are hot as hell”. On occasion, Beckett will get one of them to Vicissitude them down if he wants to use his hands more, although they’ll regrow and be achey for a night or two afterwards.

20. Say they were cuddling on the bed while listening to record player playing the background. Which song is playing?

Honestly I want to say Third Eye by Florence + the Machine just for fic reasons. When I was writing Mantle I saw it very much as Beckett towards Sascha, but it fits with Ilias towards them as well.

I have no idea how they would have discovered F+tM but anyway.

23. What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones?

It. I imagine it usually involves police chases. When it doesn’t Beckett will occasionally go wolf so he can stick his head out the car window like :P

Shh don’t tell anyone.

25. Do people ever get annoyed of their pda

God probably. One of the main exceptions is Anatole, who’ll basically go, “Oh! Are we cuddling?” and flop on top of Beckett.

27. Which one’s the red, which one’s the blue

They’re all red. Fear. Ilias is probably closest to blue.

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Sascha has both PTSD (from Symeon and Michael, and from the Eldest) and C-PTSD (from being bound to the Dracon for literal centuries). Also depression and anxiety, which are... pretty common with those. See question 8 for some of the coping methods, the rest is just... taking each day as it comes. Like they’ve lived a very long time, but they only got free of the Dracon in 2006, so it’s still a very new thing.

Ilias has some trauma from some of the things he’s had to do to survive since waking up with the Thirst of Ages, and gets into guilt spirals on occasion. He mostly focuses on Path of Nocturnal Redemption methods to work through it; he’s kind of adverse to anyone seeing him vulnerable like that. He knows Sascha has done some awful shit, but they weren’t themself at the time so Ilias feels it doesn’t count, and Beckett is like, Humanity 6? He just doesn’t get it, so Ilias keeps it to himself.

Beckett has an odd, acquired one - his experiences in Jerusalem left him with the ability (if it could be called an ability!) to occasionally hear the Cobweb (the Malkavian Madness Network). While his connection isn’t nearly as strong as an actual Malkavian’s, he does get odd flashes of Insight; less helpfully, it can occasionally get, uh, loud in his head. This tends to ramp up a bit with proximity to Malkavians, so when he’s around Anatole, Anatole will help him filter the voices and thoughts out by teaching him meditation techniques. (Given that Anatole - correctly - feels responsible for Beckett being afflicted thus, he wants to make sure it doesn’t hit his lover too badly.)

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Give Beckett head scritchies and he’ll turn into a puddle :3

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

*loud, prolonged laughter*

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Sascha and Ilias are usually... very chill; if they argue, it’s over the other’s safety, like Ilias wanting to do something reckless and Sascha being very much ‘please do not’. Sascha and Beckett argue a bit more, although thankfully they have now stopped trying to literally kill each other XD When they do, it’s usually ideological, related to Gehenna, Caine, et cetera. Sascha is still very much a part of the Sabbat, and Beckett is, well, basically an atheist.

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

All three tbh. Here’s a fun bit from the novel:

Still really dig this bit from BJD, too!

No misgendering on Beckett’s watch!

42. How would one react if the other was to die

Uh.

Poorly.

Like most of Sascha’s sanity slippage was due to the Dracon’s essence being fused to their own and just how the Eldest... did that, but a good part of it was absolutely due to Ilias’ death.

43. Who dies first

...canonically, Ilias XD;;

It’s okay he gets better.

#vampire the masquerade #feral nerd #mx meat crimes #tzinnamon roll #caymanshipping #heartflowershipping #ivoryringshipping

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weaselle · 5 years ago

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Hey, do you think you could do an 'Old World' post, like the one you contributed to before? The one with the huge trees and ground sloths and musk oxen being goats. I ADORE that post, and I'm hoping to see more eventually. Please don't feel like you have to, I would just enjoy it :) hope you have a good one!

do you have any idea how much I appreciate being asked to talk about something I’m interested in!? Thank you, I’d love to

Imagine this: It’s 100 thousand years ago. There are dwarves, trolls, goblins, imps, giants, a couple kinds of elves, the First People (those that came before us all) something that might later be called seraphim, and many strange monsters.

I’ma talk about monsters in a minute. Let’s talk about those other things, the like, fantasy races. Now, I don’t have time for every one of these, so I’m going to cover one I have the most information on. Dwarves

A sister species of humanity that is short, broad, bearded, some with red hair, lives in caves in the hills and mountains, are superb crafters, making instruments, wearing intricate leather outfits and known for creating large expertly made axes and hammers. Dwarves, right?

Or did I just describe Neanderthal

See, the earliest stories of dwarves from Scandinavia are confusing, because sometimes they talk about them being small or short, but sometimes talk about them being enormous. And that’s actually perfectly explained by Neanderthal

Check it out. Neanderthal, while noticeably shorter on average, were BUILT big. Look, it’s not just the cranial capacity, the eye sockets are larger, the nasal cavity is larger, the mandible is thicker, the teeth are larger, the bone around the ear and eye is thicker. Looking at these skulls you would assume the person on the left was far bigger than the person on the right, and you would be correct, in every way except height.

So when the earliest stories of dwarves sometimes talk about them being short, and sometimes being massive, this situation matches. Neanderthal were THIC. But they averaged about five foot four at a time when humans in the north were passing 5 foot nine

That’s only averages tho, so sometimes it would be like a 5.1 Neanderthal and a 6.1 Sapiens, but sometimes it would be like, a 5.6 inch Neanderthal and a 5.3 inch Sapiens. Which makes the early myths make even more sense:

me, a 5.5 neolithic farmer, whose community of farmers trend toward the short side, having met my first Neanderthal, a 5.8 man built like a bear twice my weight and three inches taller than me “the Dwarves are massive! giant! huge!”

you, a tall hunter from a community of hunters who tend taller than average, who runs into Neanderthal several times a year and knows they are usually nearly a foot shorter than you are “you mean the little people?”

I’m pretty sure that humans were actually the elves that came in both dark and light varieties in these Scandinavian myths, but that’s a whole topic involving the way that invaders often adopt stories of the people they invade. But there are other species, not just Neanderthal and Sapiens and Denisovans, there was also at LEAST one other sister species we’ve found genetic proof of within our own genome. And who knows what relatives of ours were living only on the exposed continental shelves of the last 100 thousand year ice age? So there are a lot of options for elf.

ANYWAY

I like to think of all these sister species of humanity as being these fantasy races. I know I mentioned goblins and imps, and all I have to say is if you’ve ever seen videos of people dealing with baboons or macaques in some town somewhere, you can appreciate what a population of humans who were much closer to wild themselves might think of similar species.

NOW. Monsters.

Not only are there many strange animals to pick from, but I use a fun thought process to include almost anything I want.

See, when you say a creature lived from X time to Y time, it’s because we have some bones from X year, and we have some bones from the same creature dated to Y year. That’s great for describing what we know for sure.

But for what MIGHT have been, for what’s possible, you can extend the range

It’s pretty safe to assume we didn’t get a fossil of literally the last of them to live. So if I want to think about how a mythical creature sounds just like a real creature, but that real creature was from a time half a million years previous to the culture, well, that could still be a match.

Consider the Siberian Unicorn also known as Elasmotherium sibericum a species of rhino. We thought they went extinct 200 thousand years ago, which would have made them unavailable for the time period we’re talking about. But then we found some bones from between 30 and 40 thousand years ago, which means they might have out survived the Neanderthal!

Now consider the Coelacanth a 4-6 foot fish we were sure went extinct with the dinosaurs. Turns out we were wrong by about 75 million years, because they’re still alive today

So clearly, as long as there is somewhere preserving approximate environmental conditions, any number of things could have far different periods of existence.

Like, we know of Denisovans, a whole sister species of humanity, from a handful of bone fragments. This is the biggest piece of Denisovan bone we’ve ever found

That’s part of a jaw. And along with a handful of small bone shards, some teeth, and the tip of one pinky finger, it’s the only physical evidence we have for the whole species. Except that we managed to get a whole genome from the miraculously well preserved pinkie tip. This branch of humanity split from us at roughly the same time as Neanderthal, and modern Tibetans owe their genetic adaptation for higher elevations to human interbreeding with the Denisovan people. They existed for about half a million years, and the only hard evidence we have is a handful of bone pieces. From like two locations.

So if something interesting could be explained by a population of Neanderthal or Homo Erectus living outside the age range of the bones we have, that is entirely possible. Depending on how far outside, it even becomes LIKELY, because, again, we’re never going to get the LAST one that lived as a fossil, fossilization is so rare.

WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY IS THAT THE OLD WORLD REALLY WAS A WORLD OF GIANTS AND ELVES AND DWARVES AND MONSTERS AND MAGIC

wait, did I say magic? Yep. Consider this: there is a magic valley in Africa that kills anything that goes into it at night. lizards, birds, people, they just... die. But not every time - a person can walk through it during the day and be fine, or sometimes at night too. Turns out there’s a large pocket of carbon monoxide underneath that leaks out constantly. In the day, the heavier than air gas creates a layer along the ground and collects in dips and hollows, but in the cooler temperatures of night drifts up six feet or more. So you might walk into the valley and be fine, but it gets a little cooler, or you walk down hill for a bit, and boom, carbon monoxide poisoning. It can take only a couple minutes to kill you.

Viola, one Cursed Valley.

Or! Imagine you are a human from 40 thousand years ago. You find a grave, you dig it up, somebody was buried with something like a wooden axe or sword (these things exist, it’s all about the density of the wood, the wedge shape, and the weight -- a heavy wooden sword can definitely decapitate a person, and we’re taking about a time when metal was rare or non existent). But THIS wooden weapon, while clearly wood, also sparkles like a gem in the light, is hard as stone, doesn’t burn if put in the fire... THAT’S a MAGIC WEAPON.

It’s also petrified wood.

This is the world I’ve been researching for my book Stone Punk, which I’ve only managed to write one chapter of so far

I would be so happy to write so many more posts about this, I’ve been researching the first domestication of wolves, cave art, neanderthal diets, ancient Indian, Russian, and Chinese myths... all kinds of things, but this post is long enough -- hope it was close to what you were looking for Anon!

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years ago

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw! Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi. Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it? Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph. Is that gonna be important later? If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear-- ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best. Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!? --Oh right. The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird. Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately. Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!? --Of course you’re attacking. You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country! Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures. With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she? And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing?? I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket. (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click. (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid? GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members. She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she? Not even hear herself. And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching. They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click. This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan. (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.) When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row. It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”. It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious. (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just. I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen? Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE. --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though. Still. If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane? You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away. Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you. (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8. <3

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #spoiler #spoilers

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tanadrin · 5 years ago

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So all the terrible retcons and geographic inconsistency (Kul Tiras wtf) and the time travel and the bullshit with the night elves is bad (Illidan is the worst character ever, don't @ me), but the most frustrating part of WoW lore to me is its failure to explore certain complex emotional themes in a really satisfying way--like, the people who expound and expand on Warcraft lore are canny enough to notice that these emotional themes *exist*, but not clever enough to actually work with them or build them out, and so the whole thing collapses into rule-of-cool melodrama. There's nothing wrong with rule-of-cool melodrama; I love rule-of-cool melodrama. But Warcraft lore is *begging* to combine that rule of cool melodrama with some really rich and interesting emotions and character interpretations, it sets them up and is all ready to knock them down, and just... doesn't.

Take the conversation between Saurfang and Garrosh in the Borean Tundra, in WotLK, the one that ends with Saurfang saying "I don't eat pork." I think that's emblamatic of the big theme that unites the Horde, that makes it make sense as a faction. The Alliance, after all, started as a defensive association in the face of the Orc invasion; its renaissance after the creation of Durotar and the invasion of the Scourge is only natural. But what is the theme of the Horde? Is it honor? Strength? Sheer brutality? Well, none of those things. Orcs claim to value honor and strength; the Forsaken are certainly various shades of very dark gray at best, the Tauren and the Orcs *do* seem like natural allies of a sort, but all the races of the Horde have something even deeper in common: trauma. The Orcs are still (cf. Saurfang) dealing with the emotional turmoil of having been both forced and partially complicit in the atrocities of the First and Second War--after which their homeworld was destroyed, they were forced into concentration camps, and they had to rebuild their culture and their identity from the ground up. They have to find a new place in a new world, and there's this tension between the younger generation that doesn't have firsthand experience with any of this and just remembers that the Horde used to be a name that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies (Garrosh Hellscream, for instance) and the older generation that remembers how awful that time really was, and doesn't want to see the old ways revived because it might just destroy their people for good this time. Then there's the Darkspear Trolls and the Tauren, who were both driven out of their old homelands, and fell in with the Horde as natural allies with similar cultural points of reference; and the Blood Elves, whose suffering in the Third War was severe enough to radically alter their culture, coupled with being betrayed by their ruler who decided that joining the Burning Legion and abandoning them sounded like a better time than rebuilding Quel'Thalas.

And then there's the Forsaken. Oh, man, the Forsaken. The Forsaken and Sylvanas are some of my favorite characters in all of WoW, because sure, you could look at it and say, "okay, creepy undead who like green things that go plop and mad science = evil, bad guys." But you'd really be missing what makes the Forsaken interesting. They're not the Scourge--they explicitly broke away from the Scourge when Arthas left Lordaeron. They're not invaders, either. They're in fact mostly the human population of the destroyed kingdom of Lordaeron, the inheritors of that land, but who are treated by the Alliance as interlopers with no right to the very towns and villages they have *always* called home. They're treated as monsters by every living person who ever knew them, and they can't help but regard themselves that way, too. "What are we, if not slaves to this torment?" is one of the casual interaction lines you get when you click on Sylvanas: they do not *like* being dead. But Sylvanas is ruthless and cruel and after Arthas is killed, wins the Val'kyr over to her side so she can keep making more Forsaken. Why?

Simple. Let us imagine: you are an ordinary person, of no unusually great or poor moral virtue. You are hurt, badly. Grieviously. In a way you will never recover from. And everyone you love, all of your friends and your family, the whole society you come from, now sees you as an unredeemable monster that should, no, must be destroyed. How long must you be called a monster before you decide--fuck it, I *will* be the monster they call me. Because, at least that way, no one can ever hurt me again.

The overpowering motivation for the Forsaken is not power or bloodlust; it's not money, or forbidden knowledge. It's making sure no one in the whole world is ever able to make slaves of them again. To make sure they will not be hurt. And the biggest misstep the Alliance ever made was not reaching out to Sylvanas with overtures of friendship as soon as she established her kingdom--because like it or not, she has the support of the people of Lordaeron, and thus a damn good claim to her position. Maybe, if they had, they could have influenced the Forsaken, shown them that they had friends and didn't need to resort to amoral methods to defend themselves. But as it stands, they only have allies of convenience in the Horde (at least until Sylvanas becomes Warchief), and they know that no one in Azeroth is quite happy to see them continue to exist and be free. Everything else about the Forsaken--their use of dark magic, their development of a new, even more destructive plague, their recruiting former servants of the Lich King and raising new Forsaken from among the dead of the ongoing wars--makes perfect sense from the standpoint of a people that knows they are under threat from all sides, and will do anything to survive.

(The Draenei could have been something like this, too, FWIW. Like, a broken people, a people of exiles who are most comfortable in the shadows and with moral ambiguity. But then Metzen had to go make them Righteous Space Goats. I mean, come on. They're just boring now. They were never going to be Horde-aligned--there's too much history with the Orcs there!--but having a group like that on the side of the Alliance, to help drive home the point that there is not a clear good guys/bad guys distinction here, would have been really nice.)

That actually makes them a pretty damn good fit for the Horde. Moreover, it creates an interesting point of tension with the Alliance, which is clearly *not* always the good guys. I mean, there's the matter of orc concentration camps, but also consider the refusal of leaders like Daelin Proudmoore to contemplate peace (and the subsequent, somewhat... forced turn of Jaina Proudmoore from dove to hawk) and the steadfast refusal of many on that side to deal fairly with the races of the Horde just because they appear monstrous. And arrogance, hoo boy. Dalaran, Gilneas, the Night Elves--huge swathes of the Alliance are characterized by being arrogant and not a little cruel.

And what of Sylvanas becoming Warchief? I don't know where the BFA lore is going (I'm not playing retail anyway), but right now it looks like they're setting up another Garrosh type situation, and preparing for Thrall to retake the Warchief-ship, but if they do that it would be a real pity. First of all, because, well, we saw that already in Mists of Pandaria! What, are we going to besiege Orgrimmar again? Second of all--Sylvanas and Garrosh are *very* different people. Garrosh was, well, Proud; hence the Sha of Pride. He wanted glory and power, he wanted war for war's sake, so he could live up to his father's reputation as a warrior. He was willing to sacrifice everything else that made the Horde the Horde for that. Sylvanas, though, has one overriding motivation: Keep Her People Safe. Punish the people who hurt her is a strong secondary motivation--but it's part of that first one, because if she can make her enemies' victories painful enough, she might discourage them from trying to press their advantage. And her people *trust* her on this: "Dark Lady watch over you," they say when you take your leave. She is not an autocrat--she is their beloved protector. So, she makes the ruins of Lordaeron uninhabitable. She annihilates Teldrassil. Does she spend very many Orc and Troll and Tauren lives doing so? Very well. They aren't *her* people.

I don't think this has to be a tragic flaw leading to her downfall. It sure doesn't make her a good leader for the rest of the Horde, though (even though, on an emotional and aesthetic level, I am 3000% here for Warchief Sylvanas, even more than Warchief Vol'jin, who also had a lot of the creepy threatening vibe that made him a much more interesting choice than either Thrall or Garrosh). But you could make it one, and you could do it very well--they've already mentioned in the tie-ins that Calia Menethil, Arthas's sister, teeeechnically has a claim to the throne of Lordaeron. And, even more interesting, is no longer quite among the living, even if the mechanism of that unlife is happy fun magic instead of evil death magic. Moreover, she has some sympathy for the Forsaken. You could have a squaring-off between them, and you could have a Queen Calia--maybe. If you could bridge that gap and make her understand that the Forsaken feel fundamentally apart from the other human kingdoms now, if she could come to understand just how much evil the Alliance has done to them, if she could really grok what it's like to be them. Then you could have a leader who understands their trauma--but also wants to heal it, rather than lash out at anyone and everyone that might conceivably be a threat. That, too, would be very interesting.

(There’s a reason that, while I loved the Alliance as a kid, I only play Horde toons as an adult. It’s not just that the Horde feel more interesting and vivid to me. It’s that the hypocrisy and the arrogance of the Alliance stands out in much greater relief now. The Horde aren’t good guys--nobody’s the good guys, here--but they don’t lie about their motivations, and they don’t act with cruelty and then play the victim in response. Jaina was an important exception, but they badly mishandled her character in the runup to MoP, which I find very hard to forgive.)

But knowing Blizz, even if they go vaguely that route, they won't stick the emotional landing. There is a very good, if very OTT and melodramatic (in the best possible way), series of fantasy novels or games lurking *behind*, or perhaps parallel, to Warcraft's lore. It is a shame that Blizzard has done so much to obscure it with obnoxious cruft, retcons and timeline compression, repetitive use of the same handful of characters, stupid-ass time-travel plots that create ten thousand plot holes and inconsistencies, shitty tie-in novels (cf. everything by Richard Knaak), and a total failure to make half the world's characters (i.e., everyone in the Alliance) at all interesting. I have a daydream of doing my own version of WoW lore and posting it somewhere like on AO3, but one of the things that makes WoW lore simultaneously so interesting and disappointing to me is that it's embedded in the explorable, realized space of video game worlds. Hard to reproduce that in print, I think. Might be worth it to try.

#world of warcraft #lore #warcraft lore #the forsaken #sylvanas windrunner #the work of chris metzen and its discontents #but hey #at least i got full chain of the scarlet crusade on my warrior in classic

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troublesometrollhunters · 4 years ago

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Being Adopted by the Order

~ Growing up in the Order was interesting. You were a new Polymorph Changeling discovered later in life after an accident happened with the paperwork and placement. You slipped through the cracks and sadly you had no idea what you were until recently.

~ Joining the Order as a teen, Strickler was your designated mentor since you lived in Arcadia and went to his highschool. He was to catch you up on everything you'd missed and help with any of your issues. Nomura and Otto part of Stricklers teams were higher ups you were to report too if Stricklander was busy. You weren't supposed too work yet and they were just there to answer your questions and prepare you for life later on.

~ Changelings by nature are protective of their young and you being younger than them it took a lot of self control not to baby you. That self control was gone by your first week in the Order. It seemed you'd been adopted by the group.

~ Father or Dad Strickler, Papa/Uncle Otto, and Wine Aunt Nomura. It was strange at first but it quickly became normal and you enjoyed being spoiled by the three.

~ When you began "working" at the Order your jobs were kept small and controlled. The Changelings want to keep your information filtered and protected. It's mostly just mild paperwork and learning how all the machines work.

~ They were quiet about the darker parts of the Order doing their best to slowly ease you into it. You may be older but you aren't old enough to know the full truth yet or anything about Gunmars coming. As much as Otto wants to tell you hoping you'll become a Gunmar enthusiast like him Nomura and Strickler persuade him to keep it a secret a little longer.

~ Strickler is in charge of your indoctrination into the Order and adjusting you to living a double life. He also handles a lot of your emotional needs and is a therapist as well as a mentor. Nomura is responsible for your more physical needs. She handles training and controlling your troll side. As a changeling you must know how to fight, people out there will try and hurt you, she wants you prepared for when they can't help you. Otto handles a lot of the paperwork and contacts for the Order but he helps you with your polymorph abilities as they're rare and he's one of the most successful ploymorphs. He teaches you to shift and how much you can shift before it hurts you.

~ The museum, the school, and the Orders office become like second homes. Your parents are informed you have an internship for school, a small job at a travel agency, and volunteer work at the museum. Slowly your distanced from your human family but you dont even notice as you feel so comfortable with your changeling one.

~ Otto is the most affectionate with you. He gives you hugs whenever he sees you and praises you. He brags about you whenever he can and keeps a picture of you in his wallet. Him and Strickler are constantly fighting over the best dad slot in your life. Strickler is the second most affectionate, giving you small displays of affection to show he cares. A shoulder squeeze, saying he's proud. Small but meaningful actions. Meanwhile Nomura really only touches you when your fighting. She cares deeply about you but being a changeling she's dealt with a lot of loss. Her affection is through advice and actions. She doenst often speak her emotions but when she does it's very genuine and you are assured she loves you.

~ Strickler spends a lot of time with you in his office. He rearranged your schedule so you have a free peroid and he uses this time to tell you about your heritage. He takes artifacts off his shelves and tells you ancient stories about changelings and trolls. You learn changeling and trollish from him and he enjoys telling you about your history.

~ He's traveled the world and seen a little of everything. There's always a little more to learn but he chooses to teach what he knows instead. Strickler informs you about everything involving history and cultures and tribes. He tells you stories of his adventures and he hopes someday he'll be able to take you on one. Missions aren't always fun but he must admit traveling was always a plus.

~ Otto isn't allowed to talk about Gunmar but there are other things to discuss. You mostly bond over being polymorphs and get closer as you work together. He helps with paperwork and shows you the less dangerous side of the Order. He hopes one day you can join him and be a spy but for now your doing fine at work and he couldn't be more proud.

~ Ottos constantly buying you sweets and cakes. Feeding you and making sure you know your cared for. In Germany everyone offers food to their loved ones and your not aloud to say no, so for Otto you not eating the food he brings is the greatest offense. You learn very quickly not to fight him and just let him love you.

~ You spend long hours at the museum with Nomura or by yourself. Your either learning about your Changeling side or Changeling culture or wandering around looking at the exhibits. Nomura explains many artifacts show that changelings have existed forever simply hiding in plain sight. She enjoys giving you the tour and telling you all about the secret side of history. Often her and Strickler will bicker about it but she swears she knows better than him.

~ She's very strict about her job but every now and then she'll let you touch something that your not supposed too. She's also let you design exhibits to showcase work and has shared her love of pottery with you. She has a little studio so if you ever feel stressed or upset it's there for you. Sometimes when your angry Nomura will sit and pound clay with you helping you get your emotions out. She warns you while sculpting you are safe but there are others who would take your moments of weakness and use them against you. She doesn't elaborate but the Order is starting to show it's true colors the longer your there.

~ They each have something they like doing with you. Nomura does pottery or art projects, occasionally taking you to new art galleries or shows. Strickler enjoys reading with you or going on short trips. He shows you secret places or overlooked stores that have hidden treasures. And Otto loves taking you to restaurants or the movies. They all spoil you with affection and enjoy doing activities with you.

~ Bular becomes a problem a couple months into your shift to changeling life. With you spending time in the museum and Killahead being formed it is not a surprise when you finally meet him. He's going to eat you but you get so scared you change into your troll form and attack him. Bular has never seen you before and is so surprised you get a couple hits in like Nomura taught you.

~ Strickler and Nomura thankfully come to your defense before too much damage can be done. However, with Bular now knowing of your existence things get more compliacted. More of the Order is revealed to you and continuing to hide what they've lied about is hard.

~ The group does whatever it takes to keep you away from Bular but it seems the troll has gained a crush. Otto sees this as amazing. Imagine their baby courting and marrying the Prince of Darkness. A changeling as consort of the GumGums. You'd be a ruler. Strickler considers it but Nomura does not like the idea.

~ As Bular begins to try and court you, you begin to discover more about the Order. The Changelings begin giving you space and more freedoms allowing you too see what the Order truly is. It's up to you to decide on what to do next. But the changelings do assure you they love you and whatever you decide they'll support.

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anxiety-trademark · 4 years ago

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The week in review:

Raw 12/14 NXT 12/16 NXT UK 12/17 Smackdown 12/18 TLC 12/20 + Main Event 12/17

Raw:

“This Sunday at tlc, it’s gonna be you and me against Nia and Shayna,” Lana says to Asuka, as a quiet ‘woo’ can be heard in the distance.

Lana facing her fears and fighting Nia Jax makes her the bravest person Asuka knows. Rolling. Fucking Asuka. ASUKA. wwe, stop.

Why isn’t Asuka accompanying Lana to the ring?

I like Lana’s gear.

Joe just compared Lana to a mosquito, goodbye.

Oh snap look how fast Lana did that headscissors takedown. We’re witnessing her progression, ladies and gents.

You know, I knew Lana would win this match, I knew exactly how she would win this match, but jfc what a treat watching it myself.

Nia’s face lmfao.

Shayna wrecking Asuka so she can’t save Lana from her inevitable fate. Still curious on whether or not this beatdown injured her, if she was injured going into the match, or if it was all really just a storyline.

Yikes this is sad.

Man that leg drop onto Lana’s ankle actually looked kinda wicked, ngl.

*distant woo intensifies*

Wow we got real tears from Lana. Points.

Becky and Charlotte have been gone, Alexa hasn’t been on tv, the Raw women’s championship has become a meaningless prop... what a dead period for this roster.

Hi why is this match happening?

I will never not be impressed by Dana’s entrance.

Is Mandy actually hurt? Why did they take her off tv for so long? Is Shayna the resident kayfabe shelver? “Hey this girl is actually injured, have her written off by Shayna” ?? Cuz I know they’re not splitting Dana and Mandy up, and Dana has been on tv every week since Mandy left. Must be genuine.

These 2 are running roughshod over the entire division at this point.

OH SHIT MANDY’S BACK WITH A KENDO STICK

Lmfao the babyfaces are fucking done with Nia and Shayna. Honestly that’s great, I love it when babyfaces band together to stand up to dominant duos. This has been going on long enough. They took out Mandy, took out Lana, were about to take out Dana. Totally fair.

Highlight: Lana getting a clean win over Nia & being taken out so my queen can return

---

NXT:

It’s a funny thing with Toni and Rhea. Toni says she’s the reason Rhea came to nxt, but she’s also the reason I became such a huge fan of Rhea’s. Heard they were having some big TakeOver match and everyone was always praising Toni. So I checked into Blackpool solely to see what the Toni Storm fuss was about, and I left that ppv solely impressed by Rhea Ripley. Then I took particular notice of Rhea in the Royal Rumble a few weeks later, and I’ve been watching NXT UK for her ever since (til she moved). To see her growth has been tremendous, and she’s so young. Such a bright future.

The music to this is great.

Toni says she isn’t scared of Rhea, as if Rhea’s mere theme music didn’t scare the absolute shit out of Toni the week prior lol.

Toni’s not even a terrible promo, but the timing of her blinks could not be worse. Yes, it matters.

I can’t stop laughing at how fucking intensely Shotzi started this interview.

She does pissed off interviews well. I can feel her annoyance.

Really don’t want to see a Candice/Shotzi feud tbh but okay, I’ll try.

aaand there’s the howl. Awful.

Lmfao Rhea called Toni a piece of trash. This is gonna be interesting to see with the alignments reversed.

I don’t remember who won this match, but I’m betting it was Toni. Which is fair tbh. Rhea is probably on the “put some peeps over before moving up to the main roster” path that everyone in the women’s division walks on. They always eat at least one monumental, or a couple meaningful, loss(es).

Oh man that is fucked up. To not only be forced to continue punching/kicking a human (fun fact: the person on the offense takes quite the damage doing so) but to have the defenseless victim bleed out and beg for you to stop. That’s rough.

This was shot really well. That music holy shit, I’m creeped out. It’s like a horror movie.

I see the point. Numbs him to pain and breaks his will, while numbing her to mercy. Ruthless stuff.

Oh are we finally done with Indi’s neck brace? Cool.

I can’t believe wwe invested in this upgraded tank. I still don’t think it’d work on the MR, but points to the boss for shelling out the cash.

Wtf was that stumble and “fall” by Indi lmao.

If Candice was a real bully, she’d distract Shotzi by fucking with her tank at ringside.

Indi does need a mentor, she’s a hell of a lot greener than my mutuals have made it sound. oof.

Shotzi looks like she has no idea how to work with Indi, and Indi looks gassed, confused, and slow as hell.

All Indi knows it going from spot to spot while Shotzi waits around for her to get there.

Lol Indi failed at getting a dirty win. I don’t really care if this is a part of her The Way storyline, what a mess.

The only redeeming part of this piss poor segment was Theory shaking the troll’s head at Shotzi.

I’ll give wwe an extra $9.99 if they let this match have a clean ending.

“[Rhea] was at one point the biggest superstar in the world,” that isn’t even close to being true because Becky Lynch exists, but I’ll let it slide and pretend you said “in nxt”.

Their paths will be so similar to Becky and Charlotte in the future.

Wow what a sequence. That would’ve received an applause on the MR. Traded headlocks for restholds, threw around their strength, then went into a battle of pinfall reversals. Instead of following that with some stalemate, they didn’t take a breath and proceeded to dance with each other and showcase some chemistry before rolling back into a battle of pinfall reversals. The sequence started with a kick by Toni to Rhea’s midsection, and it ends with a kick by Rhea to Toni’s midsection. Peep that match production, good stuff.

My, my, those slaps to Toni’s back. Whew.

Yeah actually it’s really fucking cool that these 2 get to main event nxt together, come to think of it.

They sell well for each other.

Rhea has the best dropkicks, lesbireal.

Holy shit Toni’s headbutts make my own head hurt. God I wish she wouldn’t. Most people put their hands between the heads so no contact can be made, but Toni’s just like “lol fuck it”

This is a great match. This duo works a lot better with these specific alignments. Watching face Toni try to chop down Rhea is not as good as heel Toni being impossibly hard for Rhea to put away.

Women’s matches and never having a clean ending. Name a more iconic duo. Winter of overbooked women’s matches continues.

Like I had guessed Toni was gonna win anyway, but fucking come on.

*Bonus* online exclusive: Toni says playing by the rules got her diddly and squat, but like... she was a champion lol. “It ain’t even Toni time right now, it’s party time.” Alright.

Highlight: Rhea vs Toni minus the ending

---

NXT UK:

I don’t know why we’re getting Isla Dawn vs KLR but anytime I get to see KLR fight, I’m here for it.

Hell even Isla’s song never kicks it out of first gear. Song has so much potential but it never goes to the next level.

Ahhhh my Scottish queen is here.

No, don’t compare Sasha’s basement meteora to the double knees Isla did. That was pitiful.

Anyway, KLR vs any of the 4hw would be fantastic, take my money. Sasha, Bayley, Charlotte, or the woman KLR wanted to face at TO Dublin, Dublin native Becky Lynch.

That back body drop is horrendous as a finisher. It’s like when Becky won her debut match the exploder suplex. Awful lmao. Imagine if KLR lost to a back body drop ffs.

You don’t get to be this frustrated for not being able to beat the champion when you’ve only been fighting for like 3 mins.

Isla’s pisspoor speed going in the corner, and her pisspoor roll off of KLR’s tornado ddt. Shame.

Such a clean transition from a failed pinfall attempt into a submission by KLR, whew.

This whole match was just a flex by KLR lmao.

There was a time where we had Becky Lynch, Bayley, Rhea Ripley and KLR as our champions. Wow, take me back plz.

The background music of this stupid recording is so unnecessarily dramatic, wow.

All for the delivery of a chair. Of a fucking chair. Piper... shut up and handle your shit.

For someone so much larger than the little man, Piper is insanely unintimidating.

Highlight: I got to see KLR wrestle

---

Smackdown:

Bayley does run her mouth a lot. She’s kind of the EST at saying dumb shit that gets her into trouble lmao.

Bianca is so friggin good at interviews and in backstage segments. She hasn’t received much of a chance to do promos in the ring, let alone obviously to a live crowd, but I hope she shines there, too.

Has Liv reverted back to being a dumb blonde, or is it drugs? Stop letting her speak.

Love Riott Squad’s everchanging gear. Wonder who makes it for them.

Billie Kay claims that she’s a ‘seasoned’ ring announcer, and somehow that would not surprise me.

Tamina “get the fuck out of my face until I get a nap and a vat of coffee” Snuka, everyone.

Lmfaooo Tamina fucking chucked Liv across the damn ring. What a good job by Liv.

Ruby is exceptional at running the ropes. She gets a good spring off of it.

Tamina’s hair is always so beautiful, she gets points there.

Dropkick into a faceplant. Billie Kay gets pinned rofl. She’s so bad at wrestling and yet here I am ridiculously entertained.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Carmella’s current persona, but man I wish she’d come out in a cut off tank top, camo pants, high tops and a printed hat.

I mean people are at home cuz covid, but go off.

Aye putting over Sasha. Good heel Mella.

Sasha has held the title for like a whopping 2 months and we’re already marking calendars. Sad.

In kf, Sasha is kind of mentally weak, so I’ll give Mella that. I’m not sure what it’s gonna take to shake that perception, either.

“Who is Sasha Banks if she’s not the Boss? Who is Sasha Banks if she’s not the best? It’s sad because that’s a question that not even Sasha Banks knows the answer too.” So I get that wwe are trying to help Sasha develop and fight off her past demons, but man these women are ripping her a new one. Sasha’s only 29 so she can grow and develop however she wants, but jeeze. Salt, meet the dagger Bayley stuck in Sasha’s back.

I like Mella cuz she knows how to hype her opponent’s accolades and strengths while cutting an immaculate heel promo where she hits them RIGHT where it hurts. She’s a pro. Heels should take notes.

This music is like the Jazz Vibes playlist I always listen to.

She just called Sasha cheap and frantic lmaoooo

Oh damn Sasha be out here looking like MONEY. That girl has style, even if it doesn’t always hit with me, she got style.

oof the crack of that slap to Reggie.

OOF the crack of the bottle shattering over Sasha’s poor back. rip.

Match at TLC should’ve been a champagne match. That entails whatever your mind comes up with; pouring alcohol on your opponent, dumping their head in a bucket of ice, breaking bottles over spines. It don’t matter.

“You don’t see me going around here bragging about how damn good I am,” lmao WHAT. Bayley is equal parts delusional and obnoxiously annoying.

One size heel does not fit all, but I think her version suits her beautifully.

If I were her I’d pick your brain too, but I’d also want a match, cuz people leave matches with you looking as good as humanly possible. Equal parts selfless as well.

She didn’t lie, this was absolutely her putting Bianca on the map on the main roster.

wwe: wants to strap a rocket to Bianca and make her a star. Also fucking wwe: “lol no we’re not gonna show you her full entrance, cry more scrub.”

Bayley still looks weird without a title.

Bayley mocks Bianca’s entrance and then gets swept onto the apron lmao. Idiot.

Bianca is a lot of flash and showboating, which is great from an entertainment standpoint, but she needs to do a little... less.

Fantastic snap of the hand against the led board. Bayley wrecking Bianca’s arm gonna hinder the flips.

“I’m the ER. I’m BET-TER. haha.” lmao Bayley is such a fucking dork. Got sent into the ring steps for her bravado. Love that there’s always immediate repercussions for Bayley’s arrogance.

Bayley turned midway going down onto Bianca’s knee for that backbreaker, there. Hope she doesn’t have a massive bruise. Looked like it’d leave a massive bruise.

3 things I’ll apparently never get to see again: Bianca’s hair whip, Bianca’s full entrance, and Bianca’s 450 splash. I’m tired.

These stupid fucking squats while Bianca is dangling off the top rope rofl I swear Bayley is something else. Girl knows how to entertain. “Bayley got a bit cute and Bianca made her pay,” story of Bayley’s life.

Beautiful spinebuster by Bianca. At least SOMEONE in the women’s division will use it.

Bit of a miscommunication there it seems. Bayley goes for a B2B, Bianca tries to block it, Bayley drops down to dodge and go for a cradle. She rolls Bianca all the way back, stands up and hesitates before running at Bianca with an elbow - even though Bianca is not in position to receive it - which Bianca counters by rolling Bayley up, but it was super obvious Bianca was just scouting the next spot. Bianca goes to pick her up for a powerbomb but Bayley has to kick out twice to prevent herself from being pinned while Bianca tries to lift her. That entire sequence was super messy.

Then Bianca nearly drops her lifting her all the way up lol. Yikes. Gotta be pretty fluent to pull that off. Not to plug my fav (but I’m totally gonna plug my fav); it’s a move Charlotte does in almost every match against Asuka or Becky, and you gotta be not only built to pull it off, but you need to have impeccable timing to make the transition look smooth. Extra points if you lift them off the mat RIGHT before a 3 (which Charlotte usually does)

Anyway, good match with a messy last 2 sequences. Bayley did what Bayley does best.

Highlight: Bayley vs Bianca

---

TLC:

They really took Eva Marie and Sasha Banks’ characters and meshed them together while keeping Carmella’s obsession for animal print lol.

Really don’t like that gear. That’s a miss, Mikaze.

Beautiful arm drag. Sasha taking the idea of wrestling like a Lucha more seriously? Cuz she should, ain’t nobody else in the MR doing it.

Commentators say the trash talk is continuing, I say Sasha is quietly leading this match with a grimace. Peeped that “hit me”.

Carmella goes to suicide dive through the ropes just for Reggie to catch her, cept she got caught up and started turning in midair. Would’ve hit her neck and shoulder HARD had he not been there. Great catch indeed.

Sasha “rip my back” Banks.

Not to be douchey, but if you have to adjust your gear in the middle of a match and it’s not just to fill time or be used as character work, then you need to redesign your gear.

Sasha’s a great babyface once that bell rings man. I wish she could carry that energy everywhere.

Holy fuck that facebuster. SPIKED her head, oh my god. I have never seen anyone make a facebuster look so impactful. Points if intentional.

Oh the timing of Sasha blocking that superkick from legit connecting. God she’s good.

You know how I know this is a good match? I’m watching some of these near pinfalls and submissions knowing damn well Sasha’s gonna win, yet my anxiety is still spiking thinking Carmella might walk out with the title. I KNOW she doesn’t though lmao. Good sequences, believable offense, great near pinfalls. They work well together (I’m not surprised, Mella and Sasha both work well with almost anyone)

What a fantastic transition into the bank statement. Points.

That match should’ve ended by dq the second Reggie pulled Mella out.

Sasha could’ve sold that double superkick pinfall attempt a little bit more.

Carmella having a breakdown. What does that mean? That means she’s about to lose this match lmao. There it is, not even 10 seconds later hahaha.

Sasha sells pain so damn well. Good for her. Good defense of her title. Points to Sasha, she’s phenomenal every time she has an actual match. Post-match and she’s already annoyed me though lol. Ugh. Maybe she’ll get it soon enough.

Nice “replay” wwe. Billion dollar company btw.

Billie, drawing a horizontal line is not how you write ‘clairvoyant’.

“proficient in Japanese” aw Asuka was so excited for a split second lmao.

Oh no, she made a mask to match Asuka’s with a paper plate. Oh no no no. Travesty.

Ugh I’m so excited. I’ve already seen this and yet I’m excited. Here we are, the whole damn reason I started catching up on everything I basically refused to watch since June 22.

SHE LOOKS LIKE MONEY, WHEW. The queen IS back. She’s so fucking beautiful man.

Love how annoyed Nia looks. This is your comeuppance tbh. Could’ve just faced a measly Lana, but no, you had to play too much.

Really Charlotte shouldn’t be in the tag division, and really she shouldn’t give half of a fuck about Asuka, but we’ll get to that more in the future since this is already nearly 2 months old.

Nia’s doing a great job selling Charlotte’s return, and she’s not even active in the match rn. She does good work.

Bad camera angle on Asuka hitting the ring post.

Asuka getting wrecked lol.

I really despise that the Raw women’s championship was tied up in all of these storylines that have nothing to do with the Raw women’s championship. The Lana crap, the Charlotte crap, the tag teaming in general crap.

In hindsight, I now find it curious that Ric Flair was in the back for this match. Very curious. I swear, if the past 2 real time months weren’t a part of some master plan the Flairs came up with together, I will be SHOCKED.

Charlotte’s fucking crazy for doing those moonsaults to the outside though, for real. I know she was a gymnast and an exceptional cheerleader, but MAN you could not pay me to do fucking blind back flips that high up. Crazy.

She should’ve given us a spear in this match. I wanna go rewatch her work just to see some spears.

Good match. They needed to not focus on destroying Asuka for as long as they did, pacing was off for a little bit there.

Love how Charlotte sticks her tongue out when she bridges up into the figure 8. She’s such an asshole lmao.

If I could’ve changed one thing about that finish, I would’ve had Charlotte bounce off the ropes before hitting Natural Selection. Other than that, it was great.

Charlotte looks good with a title, idk *shrug*

The way Charlotte looked over at Asuka though. I really don’t trust her in hindsight lol.

Like how this Firefly Funhouse is setting the spotlight on Alexa before Bray takes his leave of absence, only wish she hadn’t missed 2-3 wks of tv.

What a fun way of running a video package.

Inferno matches are insane and I’m not sure why anyone would participate in such.

Think it’s smart they’re both leaving their jackets on tbh.

Alright that was cool. The way Fiend called up the flames was fucking cool. It looks amazing aesthetically. They could’ve never done the set quite like this if there had been fans.

WE HAVE STRAPS?! IS FIRE NOT ENOUGH?!? Man. Randy is a fucking trooper.

Guys. Guys excuse me, that strap is on fire, can... can we not, please??

Man is swinging a god damn pick axe at Randy Orton, I--

I hope that wasn’t actually flammable liquid cuz otherwise Randy is now soaked in it, and that’s insanely dangerous. Oh that’s great editing. So it was flammable, but Randy was out of the chair before the fire rushed at him. Also covered the chair in blood. That was cool.

Orton just pull the damn string out of the jacket real quick lol.

Caught Orton’s attempt at an rko with a mandable claw. Points.

Can someone... put him out? Editing trick? Were the flames real? Am I real??

Shouldn’t the bell ring? Match is over, right??

The dummy was kind of obvious ngl. Not to sound like an asshole, but they should’ve made it a bit thicker and more solid lol. Doesn’t really take me out of it though, cuz even though I’m sure it was a stunt double that got lit on fire by the ramp, someone was on fucking fire, and that’s intimidating in itself.

Also the dummy is melting. I’d say they should’ve used pig meat, but I’m sure vegans and animal rights activists would’ve had a field day writing to Snickers about that.

Was a good match, for what it was. I was entertained.

---

*BONUS*

Main Event:

“Nasty Nikki” lol okay.

“The only reason people even know you exist is because you were Alexa Bliss’ best friend,” ouch. Truth is pain.

Ahahahah Lacey has hand sanitizer again.

Love that submission Lacey jumped into through the ropes, plus an eye rake. Fantastic.

That’s curious. Lacey and Peyton are arguing over the hand sanitizer as Lacey wants to squirt it on Nikki, while Peyton is claiming it’ll get her DQd. Now I’m on Peyton’s side in the sense that it should absolutely be illegal, but Lacey’s done it in a match against Nikki before, sooo ???

I like how Nikki fell trying to get back into the ring before the 10 count. Adds credibility.

Haha Nikki gets the pinfall over Lacey because Peyton was being a nuisance on the outside. Lacey big mad. That’s great.

---

*Smackdown easily shined the brightest in what was a great week of wrestling. Utilized 8 women in 3 different storylines, couldn’t possibly complain about that.

#wwe #issa review #feel free to ignore these #cuz who tf cares lesbihonest #today's props goes to:#charlotte flair

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