Everything is Possible
My first encounter with the reality of the outside world happened when I was just over 6. I had found out that in America (and later pretty much the entire western world), it was normal and acceptable, even encouraged, to slowly torture and dismember a baby like any of my little brothers with pliers, in the womb, until some grey/white matter would come out, indicating that the skull had been crushed and brain matter were leaking out. Then flush him down the toilet, drop him in a dumpster, or use the parts for “science”. That day, my world almost crumbled. I cried, and it may have been the first time. I ran to my dads seeking reassurance they would never let this happen to any of my little brothers. Of course, they kept their promise, and went to extreme lengths to protect babies. Including Magnus #78 who is, as I am typing this, riding a ram and delighting in it. When I think that he could have been cut in small pieces, alive, while thinking he had the protection of his mother’s womb, I get PTSD. Probably the same way Thorolfr gets PTSD from thinking of that time when African savages wanted to dismember Áskunnr, while keeping him alive for as long as possible, to sell his body parts on the local market (because he was just so white). There is essentially no difference in the savagery of the most despicable degenerated low life in Africa, and the vast majority of modern women. Let that sink in for a little bit.