#troll jim my beloved fr fr

[lostfieldd]

jim: best boy

troll jim: THE BEST BOY FR!!!!!!!! WOULD DIE FOR HIM!!!!!!!!!! NO QUESTIONS ASKED

[exploreneoh]

Northeast Ohio's Confederate Cemetery

Writing about and discussing monuments commemorating the Confederacy is a difficult task, which is why I have been avoiding composing this blog post for some time now. The Atlanta History Center divides such monuments into three categories. The first refers to mainly funerary monuments, “erected from the 1860s through the 1880s.” The second era of Confederate monuments were installed during the height of Jim Crow, from 1890 through the 1930s, and consist mainly of “an equestrian statute of a Confederate general in front of a courthouse or capitol.” These were not to mourn the loss of dead soldiers, but to celebrate the deeply racist ideals central to the identity of the former Confederate States of America. They were designed to intimidate African Americans passing through public spaces and remind them of their place in Southern society. Such monuments were, “a naked forewarning to the lowest caste of its subjugation and powerlessness… a psychic trolling of the first magnitude” (Wilkerson, 336). These were shrines and threats, aimed at affirming the myth of the Lost Cause and intimidating anyone who dared defy the strict social order. Such insolence would likely mean death. The final era occurred throughout the mid 20th century in response to Brown v. Board of Education and as an ode to segregation.

The monuments on Johnson’s Island in Ohio’s Sandusky Bay perhaps bridge the first two categories. The first Confederate monument erected on the island, a bronze and granite monolith depicting a standing Confederate soldier, was dedicated by the Cincinnati chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy in 1910. Smaller monuments were later installed, the most recent “a set of granite markers dedicated to Confederate prisoners of war,” dedicated by the UDC in 2003. But why are these monuments here, and how should we view them, today?

I drove onto the island after visiting my beloved Marblehead Lighthouse on its namesake peninsula, the rugged, quarry-ridden cape jutting eastward from Toledo into the teal waters of Lake Erie. It was a tumultuous July evening, the trees still dripping from the severe thunderstorm that just passed through, its inky clouds still visible along the eastern horizon. The amber sun, sinking farther in the western sky, merging the remaining puddles and the thick atmosphere. The humidity was extreme.

Johnson’s Island is an unusual place. To cross the causeway from Marblehead, visitors must pay a $2 toll. The island itself is roughly 300 acres and home to extravagant lakeside homes, some built within the old quarry pit hundreds of feet below neighboring residences looming above. Its most unusual feature, however, is the Confederate Stockade Cemetery, located on the island’s northeast corner, overlooking Bay Point and Cedar Point beyond. According to the National Park Service, from 1862 to 1865, the United States War Department imprisoned more than 11,500 Confederates at its facility on Johnson’s Island, which it leased from owner Leonard Johnson for $500 per year. The site, surrounded by the waters of Lake Erie, was chosen for its relative isolation. “It was easily defensible and close to rail lines in Sandusky,” (NPS) deemed so secure, in fact, that only Confederate officers were imprisoned here.

Although originally intended only to house a maximum of 1,000 men at a time, at its peak, Johnson Island’s population exceeded 3,255 in 1865. Population numbers were generally lower, however, due to the Union and Confederate armies frequently swapping prisoners of war. The prison, although more luxurious than those for ordinary soldiers, lacked appropriate sanitation, infrastructure, and food, and was frequently overcrowded. Diseases spread quickly throughout the prison and Lake Erie winters were undoubtedly harsh.

In 1864, Confederate soldiers based in Ontario attempted to raid the island. “They successfully seized two passenger steamers in Lake Erie and planned to capture the USS Michigan and use the warship to free the officers on Johnson’s Island,” (NPS) but aborted the mission. As a result, the Union strengthened its prison’s defenses, fearing possible future attacks.

After Robert E. Lee’s surrender and the Confederacy swore its oath of allegiance to the United States in 1865, the prison’s population decreased. By the end of the year, the War Department had returned control of the island to Johnson. During its time as a prison, only 239 men died on the island, their bodies buried a half mile from the original prison facility. Over 20 bodies were removed by friends and family after the Civil War and taken elsewhere. To commemorate those who remain, 206 marble headstones were erected after a group of Georgia journalists described the lack of permanent markers memorialize these men.

The Robert Patton Chapter of the UDC purchased the cemetery in 1905. Chapter leader, Mary Patton Hudson, worked feverishly to oversee improvements to the sight, including the construction of a fence around the cemetery. Her most notable contribution was the large statue of a Confederate soldier, dubbed The Lookout, created by Moses Ezekiel and dedicated in June 1910. “The [UDC] installed two monuments at the cemetery in 1925. The Mack-Hauck Memorial honors two members of the organization instrumental in preserving the Johnson’s Island cemetery” (NPS). Hudson herself was later dedicated a memorial for her effort to purchase the cemetery which was later donated to the federal government in 1931. Since then, additional granite markers have been placed in memory of Confederate prisoners of war.

Nostalgia has been described as “the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return,” (Kundera, 5) and, walking along the rows of headstones and among the ornate monuments in the cemetery on that hot July evening, I was struck by perhaps its opposite. Those who erected such memorials, however, clearly felt this way towards the Confederacy, yearning for its return. The Confederate Cross of Honor in northern soil, with initials CSA encompassing a Confederate battle flag, earnestly and shamelessly celebrates a brief instance of Confederate sovereignty, a reclamation of a place once designed to contain and irradicate it. The pedestal of Ezekiel’s statute reads and is dedicated “to those who died in federal prison on this island during the war between the states,” commemorating those Confederate officers, “dead, but sceptered sovereigns who still rule us from the grave.” The line is from Lord Byron’s Manfred, taken from a scene in which the titular character recounts the former glories of the Roman capital. He describes the “chief relics of almighty Rome,” the “ruinous perfection,” of “Caesar’s chambers, … the Augustan halls,” a place where all that remains is beautiful. “The place Became religion, and the heart ran o’er With silent worship of the great of old” (Byron). The “great of old” here is the legacy of slavery and a society built upon it. For the Confederacy, the owning of twelve generations of human chattels whose patriarchs and matriarchs were stolen from a distant continent was the state-sanctioned religion. The statue is chilling, the words inscribed within it are haunting.

Horrifying as it is, however, I think this is a monument which should be permitted to stand. It is relatively isolated and within a cemetery for America’s war dead. The statuary, although blatantly racist and clearly regaling the country’s most evil legacy, does not act to intimidate citizens in a public square like others. Furthermore, it is a physical relic of a not-too-distant past, personifying the horrors of before, which continue to echo through the modern day. This place made me think of those who commissioned and built its monuments, not with empathy or reverence, but with chilling terror. The tentacles of those who advocated something which, to me, seems almost unimaginable, poke out of the ground in this humble cemetery in Northeast Ohio. The relics earnestly bearing “CSA” really mean it, celebrating a government which actually existed in Montgomery, AL and Richmond, VA, and to which millions (and many who still) pledged their allegiance. These artifacts somehow make it real, the Confederacy: tangible, palpable, solid, and heavy, like a piece of iron in one’s hand. A prolonged southern invasion of my beloved northern home. Let this not be a place of veneration, but one bearing the scars of the past, a quiet warning of the persistence of hatred, imprisoning once more the evils of yore in a fixed position, viewable to all who venture near, but not germinating and sowing the malice, loathing, and rancor of those it commemorates, but nudging us forward to a more equitable and just future.

All photos are my own, taken on Johnson's Island, Ohio, 7/13/2021.

Top left: view of the headstones in the cemetery.

Top right: close-up view of the pedestal of The Lookout.

Bottom left: Iron Cross of the Confederacy, bearing its initials CSA with a Confederate battle flag in the center.

Bottom center: Entrance to the cemetery.

Bottom right: The Lookout.

References:

Byron, L. G. G. (2010). Manfred. Wilder Publications.

Historical introduction: Confederate monuments. Atlanta History Center. (2021, May 11). Retrieved January 19, 2022, from https://www.atlantahistorycenter.com/learning-and-research/projects-initiatives/confederate-monument-interpretation-guide/historical-introduction-confederate-monuments/

Kundera, M., & Asher, L. (2002). Ignorance. Harper-Collins.

Manfred dramatic poem - analysis & summary. English History. (2015, April 19). Retrieved January 19, 2022, from https://englishhistory.net/byron/poems/manfred-dramatic-poem/

U.S. Department of the Interior. (n.d.). Johnson's Island Confederate stockade cemetery. National Park Service. Retrieved January 21, 2022, from https://www.nps.gov/nr/travel/national_cemeteries/ohio/confederate_stockade_cemetery.html

Wilkerson, I. (2020). Caste: the Origins of Our Discontents. Random House.

Wilkerson, I., & Gross, T. (2020, August 4). It's more than racism: Isabel Wilkerson explains America's 'caste' system. NPR. Retrieved January 19, 2022, from https://www.npr.org/transcripts/898574852

[elizabethemerald]

Jlairby comforts each other

Claire looked around confused. She was back in Arcadia again, not on the road to New Jersey.  She was on the Arcadia Bridge, or to be more accurate floating above it. What was she doing back in her hometown?

A roar behind her drew her attention, Jim swung at her with his Eclipse blade. She blocked his attack with a thought then knocked him backwards with golden spell. Why was Jim attacking her? And why was he wearing the Eclipse armor again? He hadn't worn that armor since...The Eternal Night!

She turned and looked at the sky. The sun was blotted out by the dark, arcane clouds. Behind her was the massive funnel of death pouring out of the canals and into the sky. If the Eternal Night was happening again it could only mean Morgana had somehow escaped the Shadow Realm.

She felt a blow to her back, as Jim used her distraction to renew his attack. He fought her with a ferocity she had never seen, his armor was glowing brightly with every swing of his sword. His mouth was stuck in a snarl as he roared at her.

Claire tried desperately to call to him, to tell him to stop attacking her.  Morgana was free! They had to find Her and destroy Her! Her voice wouldn't answer her command though. She only kept using her golden magic to defend herself and attack her beloved. Claire realized she was trying to attack Jim with the same ferocity that he attacked her.

"Enough!" A voice that wasn't her own called from her mouth. She extended a hand, covered in gold armor with gold talons on her fingers and shining ropes sprang from her to wrap around Jim's body as he leapt into the air to swing at her again.

Claire wanted to scream in horror as she swung her arm around and the golden chains smashed him into the sides of the bridge then the ground. Then the chains hung him in the air immobile, his arms and legs outstretched.

A laugh that didn't belong to her, but one she recognized pulled itself from her throat. Morgana's laugh! Claire could only watch helpless as Morgana used her body to cast the spells against Jim.

More golden ropes snaked around his body, almost feigning a caress, before tearing off pieces of his armor. Chunks of Jim's skin and flesh came off with the armor. His screams were long and loud in Claire's ears.

Morgana can't be back! She can't have taken control of her body again! She tried to tear against the confines of her mind as Morgana's magic lashed against Jim's body, dragging fresh screams from him.

Claire begged and pleaded in her mind, trying to stop the witch from using her body to hurt him. 'Morgana, please stop! Please!' Another cruel whip struck her love. 'Morgana, no no No No NONONONO!!' The last felt like a scream in her mind.

"Morgana is gone!"

Claire struggled in her mind trying to force her body to respond.

"Claire, you're dreaming! You have to wake up!"

Dreaming? Whose voice was that?

"You're having a nightmare! Wake up Claire!"

She was having a nightmare. Morgana was not back. She was not hurting Jim right now. This was just in her mind.

"Claire!"

Her eyes snapped open. The ceiling was inches from her face. She felt someone holding her hand, trying to pull her back to the bed. It was not Jim's hand, she knew the stone texture of his hand. She turned in the air, and simultaneously realized that she was floating several feet above the bed and that Toby was the one holding her hand. Jim was curled up on Toby's other side, still asleep.  

Toby smiled up at her, "You're ok. You're safe. Are you back with us now?"

She took a deep, shaky breath and realized she hadn't taken one since she opened her eyes. She changed her position in the air, till she was in a floating Lotus position. She breathed deeply and forced the fear of her nightmare to release its hold on her. Slowly she felt herself settle back onto the mattress. The whole time she did not let go of Toby's hand.

When she was on the same level as him she spoke. "I won't look at myself in a mirror right now, but is my face back to normal?"

Toby held her cheeks and looked at her face closely in the dark. The jagged lines were starting to fade from around her eyes, and her eyes quickly changed from purple to their regular color. In the dark they were almost black, but he could see there was no more glow to them, and there certainly wasn't any gold in her eyes.

He let go of her face and grabbed her hands to look at them as well. Again the jagged black lines were almost completely faded. Her skin was almost back to its regular tone. He gently placed a kiss on each of her hands. Then put his hands on her face again. Toby wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs. He kissed her softly on the cheeks.

"You're back to good ol' Claire. Just the way I like you."

She smiled at him, and returned his soft kisses, to his hands and cheeks. "Thank you Toby, for waking me up, and bringing me back down."

"Are you ok now? You were calling out in your sleep, then you...well...started floating. You were begging for Her to stop something. Then you started to contort your body. I thought you were possessed...again."

"That's what the nightmare was." Claire didn't want to describe the nightmare, but she realized that Toby hadn't been with her and Jim on their journey. He probably hadn't ever seen her have these nightmares. "She was in my body again. It was the Eternal Night. She used me to hurt Jim. Nothing I could do could stop her."

Toby went to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she moved past his arm to lean against him. He put his chin on the top of her head while he held her.

"I'm so scared of Her coming back, of Her using me again."

He couldn't think of any response to that. Instead he just held her for as long as she needed it. Eventually she pulled away and got out of the bed. She walked over to one of the chairs in his room and curled up in it. She sat looking out the window while Toby laid down, and fell back asleep, leaning against Jim.

Jim's breath came fast and hard, the ash and dust in the air burned his lungs. Golden light crackled in the air. He called the Eclipse blade to his hand and bared his fangs. He snarled as he braced himself against a car then flung himself over it.

He brought his blade down with all the force he could muster but it was turned aside by the golden woman in front of him. Morgana! The Eternal Night was upon them and he fought desperately to protect his friends and his home from The Eldritch Queen.  

His movements were hampered by his still unfamiliar form, his limbs dragging and not responding properly to his commands. Also his body was still wracked with pain from the Decimar Blade. Gunmar was dead, but his attempt to control Jim still made his body ache.

He had struggled for a long time to describe the pain the touch of that blade caused. It felt like his whole body was being crushed and stabbed and burned all at the same time. And those pains lingered long after the touch of the blade ended.

Morgana's haughty laugh mocked him as he tried to fight her. Lines of gold whipped from her hand and ensnared him. He tried to fight them off but he was soon bound hand and foot. He roared and struggled but could not get free.

Out of the smoke he saw them. His friends, the ones he proudly called his fellow trollhunters. Morgana dragged them forward already bound in her magic, until they were right in front of him.

"Morgana don't hurt them!" She laughed again. Then pulled Claire away from the rest of the group. The magic chains tightened around his love's body and she screamed as her armor was crushed against her.

"Claire! No!" Jim shouted.

"Oh Jimbo. Not you too."

Jim struggled more and more against his chains as Claire's scream grew louder and more desperate.

"Jim! It's a nightmare! You need to wake up!"

What? A nightmare? Was that Toby's voice?

"Wake up Jim!"

He opened his eyes. He stayed perfectly frozen, barely breathing. He could feel his claws were bared, just as he knew his fangs were. He dared not move till his senses fully returned to him. If he followed his instincts, if he tried to strike out at his fear, if he called the amulet to him, if he donned his armor, he could kill Claire by accident. He allowed the muscles in his hands to relax, sheathing his claws.

His ears flicked as he sought out Claire's sounds. Her breathing, there it was, a few feet away from him, still in the calm of sleep. But there was more breathing, closer to him. In between him and Claire.  Breathing that was not calm in sleep. A soft growl poured from his lips.

"Jim? Are you awake?"  Toby's voice, quiet with fear and tight with pain. Jim forced himself to relax again. He carefully extricated his body from sheets that had wrapped around him. Soon he was standing beside the bed taking in his surroundings. Toby was sitting up on the bed looking at him. Claire was in a chair across the room dozing.

"Are you ok, Jimbo?"

"I'm fine. Nightmare." Jim turned and walked to the door of the room.

"Jim." Something in Toby's voice made the simple word a command. Jim returned to the side of the bed, then at Toby's insistent look he laid back down on the bed.

"I've never seen someone react that way to a nightmare. You didn't even move when you woke up. I could only tell you were awake from your ears. Most people freak out after their nightmares."

Jim gestured to Claire, still dozing in the chair. "I hurt her, several times when we first started sleeping together. She has scars from it. Merlin had to teach her how to heal her wounds, she got so many. Even without my claws and my troll strength, if I called to the amulet while she was sleeping against me she could get blown backward when the armor appears."

"Mmmm" Toby hummed. Jim could see with his better night vision that Toby's face was pinched. His friend put a careful hand on Jim's face, "Do you want to talk about the nightmare?"

"It's one of the same old ones I have. It's the Eternal Night. I have to fight Morgana. Everything still hurts from my fight with Gunmar. She holds me powerless to stop Her from hurting the rest of you."

Toby moved his hand to Jim's shoulder. But as he moved a smell suddenly assailed Jim's more sensitive nose. It was familiar and smelled almost like copper. Blood! Toby was bleeding. Jim sat bolt upright and hopped out of the bed.

"I hurt you! You're bleeding!"

Toby pulled his other hand away from his side, allowing the smell of blood to fill Jim's nostrils. "Yeah, we should probably get that taken care of soon."

Jim let out noise that was half growl half whine. Claire came fully awake at that noise. She held out her hand and said, "Azazazuth telum manibus meis!" Her weapon, a spear stolen from a fallen Gumm-Gumm flew to her hand.

"What happened?" She cried.

"I hurt him. I hurt Toby! Claire you have to help him!"

"Azazazuth lux!" A glowing purple ball appeared in her hand as she set down her spear. She tossed the ball into the air, where it stayed, shining a pale purple light on them all. She crawled over the bed to Toby and put her hand on his side. More purple light flowed from her hands to the injury. He could feel it start to knit close again.

In the strange purple light he could also see her scars. They glowed in the light of her magic. Some looked like they could have been dealt in training, but one, revealed as the shoulder of her pajamas slipped down was clearly the claws of a three fingered hand.

Jim was pacing the side of the bed his hands gripping his horns like he wanted to pull them from his head. "I'm so sorry Toby! I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Toby looked between two of the people he loved most in the world and he couldn't help but laugh. Jim stopped mid stride at the sound of his laugh. Even Claire looked at him with eyes edged in purple, though she quickly refocused on healing him.

"Did you know I thought tonight was going to be the best I've slept in months? Then first Claire has a nightmare and floats up the ceiling. And then Jim has a nightmare and slices me with his claws." He laughed again.

"I have been having nightmares every night this week. I have been so afraid ever since you left for New Jersey that I would never see you two again. Even last night, when I knew you both would be arriving in the morning I barely slept."

He put one hand on Claire's face and the other hand on Jim's. "I kept dreaming that you two would die on the road back to me. Or I was waiting for your text but it never came. Or that I waited for days at gyre station and you never showed. I thought that tonight with all of us squeezing into my little bed there was no way I could have nightmares. And I was right."

Claire finished her spell, then she and Jim resettled on the bed on either side of Toby.

"After everything we went through I can't pretend like I'm surprised that we all have nightmares." Toby continued, holding onto the others. "But everything that happened we pulled each other through, and we will do the same here."

He looked at Jim, "Jimbo you're afraid you won't be able to protect us. And you're afraid that you will have to live through the pain you experienced again." He turned to face Claire. "You're afraid She will return and use you again. Take over your body."

He squeezed them both, "I can't promise that those things will never happen. But I do promise that I will always be there for you. I will always try my best to fight for you. Both of you."

Jim hugged Toby tightly with one arm and reached his other hand for Claire. She took his hand and pressed it to her face, kissing the back of it.

Jim was the next one to speak. "I promise Toby that I will always try to come back home to you. I don't want to vanish and for you to never see me again. And Claire no matter what comes of our future, I will always believe that you are stronger than that witch. You are stronger than her control. And I'll be here to help bring you back no matter what."

Tears were flowing easily down each of their faces. Claire took a deep breath and took her turn, "Toby I agree with Jim. I will always try to come back to you. I won't leave you for good. And Jim I promise I will always fight harder and figure out some way, so we can protect each other." She breathed on the hand she was holding. A faint purple light flowed out with her breath and Jim's shoulders relaxed as the lingering memory of the pain eased in his mind.

They smiled and hugged each other close. Each took turns giving loving kisses to the other two.

Together they settled back onto the bed, in each other's arms. And they fell asleep. This time a sleep undisturbed by nightmares.

[lostfieldd]

Hello Trollhunters fandom [said into a dark void].

Take my Troll Jimbo headcanons because I miss my boy (feel free to rt/comment and add your thoughts/own headcanons!)

Sorry if my grammar and spelling sucks I’m writing this late at night running on four hours of sleep 🧍

Cat-like behaviour

I’m completely convinced that trolls have some feline-like nature, especially since some species have controllable tails.

This means Jim can purr (LOVES head scratches idc fiGHt me), and his pupils dilate when he’s interested in something.

He has a tail and it will act like a cats, sometimes it wags when he’s really excited. He has ears that express emotions as well, like AAARRRGGHH’s do, but they’re a lot more expressive.

Bonus: Toby bought a laser pointer just to fuck with him.

Physical changes

As covered in the saga, he had enhanced speed, agility, and strength. I’m gonna go a little further than that. I imagine his senses would’ve been amplified by a LOT when he first transformed, and would sometimes become overwhelming. Claire or Blinky would have to talk him through these sort of things until he got a hold of himself again. Merlin wouldn’t have been much of a help since he’s an ass.

I bet he would’ve been really overwhelmed, being able to hear and smell things that the typical human ear cannot, and hearing things from farther distances. This came in handy on his trek to New Jersey with Claire, Blinky and the others, in case they got separated somehow (for instance, finding shade and places to hide during the day). This means he can track them through both sound and smell, which is something that took him a while to get a hang of.

Chompers. Big teefs. He can basically bite through anything except for really tough metal and diamond. I’m completely convinced that Claire would just buy entire bagfuls of silverware for him to chew on, its his favourite snack.

Night-vision!! This is a headcanon I have for trolls as a whole, but I imagine they’d have amazing night-vision, stronger than your usual animal that has strong night-vision idk I should do some research.

Behaviour as a whole

He can be really aggressive if needed, and of course it will be amplified if he wears a grit-shaka or inhales gravesand.

A lot more playful!! Since he’s younger, he has more of a childish nature, being 16-17 years old. I imagine any younglings who were traveling with them to New Jersey absolutely loved playing with him. Even before he was transformed, I bet he would often make time to watch them play or play with them (with the armor on.

For like, general shows of affection, I imagine trolls do little head bonks like goats. I imagine Jim doing this with Claire a lot, but a lot more gentle and just with their foreheads, whereas with other trolls it will be more with the top of their head, and their horns will often bonk together. He definitely does it a lot with Blinky (because found family trope) and they just grow even closer through the journey to New Jersey. (inspo for the bonks of affection taken from a post from @nattikay, i am too lazy to scroll through her whole blog to find it I am so Tired™️ (if you see this i love your art hello 🧍))

Anyways thanks for listening to my rambles goodbye 🏃