A Brutal Bad Breed Maa Christmas STORY An Incident Report No One Asked For The Realm does not do peaceful holidays. Anyone who thought Christmas would be quiet clearly forgot who lives here. It started with Rebel trying to “keep things under control.” That was the first mistake. She made a list. She had a plan. She said the words, “Let’s just get through today.” The Realm heard that and immediately chose violence. Rebel Rebel took charge like she always does. She assigned tasks. She gave instructions. She told everyone exactly how this was
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Some Environments Make You Honest A Rebel Observation On Life! There are places where pretending doesn’t work. No matter how polished you show up. No matter how good your excuses sound in your head. The environment calls you out immediately. Concrete is one of those places. It doesn’t care who you think you are. It only responds to what you actually do. You step wrong, it tells you. You hesitate, it tells you. You lose focus, it tells you. Instant feedback. No commentary. That’s honesty. Rebel learned early that environments matter more than intentions. You can want
The Art of Shredding Lawless on Wheels, Concrete, and Why Movement Is Creative People think skating is just exercise. That’s how you can tell they’ve never actually shredded. Shredding isn’t cardio. It’s not a hobby. It’s not “cute.” It’s art made at speed. Lawless doesn’t skate to look graceful. She skates because standing still makes her restless. Concrete doesn’t care about your mood. Wheels don’t care about your excuses. Momentum either happens , or it doesn’t. That’s the appeal. 🛼Shredding starts the moment you push off. There’s no pause button. No “let me
I’m Always the One Still Standing Rebel in the Garage, Building a Bike, While Everyone Else Disappears… The garage smells like old gas, hot metal, and bad decisions. Perfect. I’m halfway under the frame with a wrench in my hand when I hear it again , that familiar sound of people leaving. Not footsteps, exactly. More like energy. The vibe drains out of the room like someone pulled a plug. Conversations fade. Eyes slide away. Plans evaporate. Everybody suddenly “has to do something real quick.” Classic. I don’t even look up. I just keep turning the bolt
My Money Isn’t for Flexing — It’s for Escape Routes A Lawless Account of How Not to Get Trapped Let me be clear about something before we start. If you think money is for showing off, you’ve already missed the point. Money isn’t jewelry. It’s not proof. It’s not validation. Money is the key in your pocket when the door locks behind you. And I don’t talk about my keys. People always assume I don’t care about money because I don’t act impressed by it. I don’t light up when someone starts listing brands. I don’t
THE PERKS OF PMS — A FERAL USER manual INTRODUCTION: WELCOME TO THE TEMPORARY MONSTER UPGRADE PMS is not a weakness. It’s not a curse. It’s not “that time of the month.” PMS is a limited-edition feral buff where your body activates a version of you that could: lift a car, destroy a kingdom, burn a timeline, cry while doing taxes, sense a lie through three walls, and rebuild your entire identity in 48 hours. Your hormones basically say: “We’re rebooting the system. Hold still while we burn everything unnecessary.” Which is funny, because men call this an overreaction, but
The Realm Does Not Pick Chosen Ones — It Collects Lunatics. As formally documented by the Goblin Historical Society (Annotations provided by Senior Archivist: Grubbin Blacktooth, PhD in Irresponsible Anthropology) Prologue Most worlds choose their heroes carefully. They consult prophecies, align stars, and look for noble hearts. The Realm, in contrast, has never demonstrated that level of restraint. Instead of hand-selecting “Chosen Ones,” the Realm simply waits for the loudest, angriest, most catastrophically stubborn individuals to wander into its borders… and then it adopts them. Some scholars describe this process as “chaotic magnetism.” Others call it “cosmic negligence.” We, the
Fitness Saved My Attitude. Rage Built My Strength. There are two wolves inside me: one is tired, and the other is raging through a set of deadlifts with pre-workout foaming at the mouth. Guess which one wins every morning? Exactly. People always say, “Wow, you’re so dedicated,” as if dedication is the reason I show up to the gym. Please. I don’t train because I’m healthy. I train because rage needs somewhere to go and punching civilians is frowned upon in most social settings. 1. I Don’t Work Out for Aesthetics — I Work Out So I Don’t
My Discipline Is Chaotic, Not Cute People love to talk about discipline like it’s a color-coded planner, a pastel water bottle, and a perfectly lit desk. Good for them. My discipline? Oh babe… Mine looks like a garage, a goblin screaming in the corner, and a cup of coffee I forgot I made three hours ago. There’s no aesthetic here. No “morning routine.” No “boss babe” monologue playing in the background. My discipline is held together by: roller skate wheels that need tightening, a wrench I can’t find until I don’t need it, pure spite, chaotic momentum, and the
Chaos Academy: The Official Cultural Values of the Realm (Revised for Goblins, Gremlins, Mothers on skates & Motorcycle Witches) Welcome to Chaos Academy, the only educational institution where: safety is theoretical, rules are optional, and the middle finger is part of the core curriculum. If you’ve stumbled in by accident, congratulations, you belong here more than you think. Nobody arrives at the Realm on purpose; they get dragged, summoned, or fall through a crack in their own sanity and land on the garage floor next to a pile of mismatched roller skates and a goblin chewing on a spark