Please note that, with rare exceptions, any and all names mentioned in this blog are pseudonyms except our own. We want to be able to speak freely without doxxing anyone.
Hey, everyone! This is Allēna. I have no idea what to post today and I’ve been up all night trying to find words. Nothing is coming, so have this bullshit instead. I made it for one of Emerson’s headmates, who is from Ohio yesterday.
That’s it. That’s the meme. It’s 4:45 AM and there’s nothing in my brain.
Nothing bad has happened, I am just pleasantly loopy and I have a very precious member of the Zelda system curled up around me. We shall call them Georgia. Georgia and Sheik often share duties in the system and it’s fucking great. I love them both. I think I successfully turned my brain off, too, which is a good thing. I very rarely reach a state where it feels like my brain is off in a way that’s pleasant. Occasionally it feels like it’s off because it’s shoved full of chronic fatigue cotton balls. This is not that. If it were off due to the chronic fatigue, the Georgia cuddles wouldn’t feel half as good as they do.
We also saw Emerson tonight and my headmate Val kissed him. It was odd to watch, since before tonight, I wasn’t sure if she even liked Emerson, but I suppose that’s settled. However, this is not a bad thing by any means. They’re very cute.
Now, here’s hoping the brain turns back on again soon… Until then, it’s eldritch Ohio hours. Hehe.
Stay tuned for more magic!
-Allēna the Incredibly Loopy (and Happy) Super-Admin
Hey, everyone! This is Allēna once more. Today was very nice. Castor was in front for most of a lovely evening with Sheik. He feels so safe with her that he willingly and eagerly went grocery shopping with her. This is a rare occurrence for any of us, as we don’t generally enjoy going outside due to severe agoraphobia and fatigue. But our marijuana mental vacation Castor began this past week has only continued, leading us to relax even more deeply with Sheik, Pendragon, and Emerson as well as to feel more adventurous after the sun goes down and we don’t have to worry about taking sun damage when we go out. So Castor got ever so gently baked and he and our darling Sheik went shopping.
Castor was very nervous about how the body would handle having to walk all around the store in shoes that would likely hurt the body in ways so fucked we wouldn’t even realize it until tomorrow morning, so Sheik suggested that he ride in the shopping cart. Yes. You read that correctly. She wanted to push him around in the goddamned cart. So Castor said fuck it and put his gremlin ass in the cart and remained there to the delight of our fellow customers and the cashier who checked them out. We’re under the impression that Castor has fans now for simply being his disabled gremlin self and riding adorably in the shopping cart while a very sleepy and affectionate Sheik pushed him. He documented their gremlinry both in photos and on Tiktok. I shall share one of the fruits of their fucking iconic labors below.
Castor in the shopping cart with Sheik being precious behind him 💛
Castor, being baked to fuck, had no shame about climbing into a damn cart like he was a tiny kid when he’s an actual full grown motherfucker, and because we have the charisma of some kind of eldritch fucked up demigod, especially when we’re stoned, he not only didn’t get in trouble, he seems to have made several people’s night and definitely felt closer to Sheik after that. It was fucking precious.
I’ve noticed a lot of that happening lately, actually. When we face our shame head on in some form and just do the damn thing we’ve been wanting to do, sometimes for years, the results are almost never as bad as we’re afraid of them being. Often, the results are lovely. I’m not sure if that’s a byproduct of us approaching these situations with confidence and charm or what, but it feels really good to feel safe in vulnerability. I don’t have any memory of when the last time we felt this safe was. I don’t know if we’ve ever felt as safe as we do.
I’m still scared the other shoe is going to drop in some way, but that’s a small and currently very quiet part of me compared to how it used to be. That part of me used to be extremely loud whenever I felt happy or vulnerable in any way, but now it’s much quieter. I am starting to feel safe to be my weird gremlin self without fear of social punishment, as are my headmates, for the first time any of us can recall.
It’s weird, but it’s good. So…watch this space for more updates as we continue to explore this mental state and experience. And, as always, stay tuned for more magic!
-Allēna, (she/her), very confused but happy sorceress and super-admin
Hello, everyone! My name is Sarah. I’m a newer alter in the system. I don’t really have a plan for what I’m going to talk about tonight, but I was told I still needed to post, so I guess I’m going to ramble.
Today has been really nice. Thanks to Castor’s weed adventure the other day and us smoking smaller bowls today, today has been deliciously slow, relaxing, and lovely. Emerson has been in front for the most part today rather than Pendragon, with Allēna fronting on our side. These two have been broken up for some time now, so many of us were expecting today to go poorly.
Andrew, who runs a betting ring in headspace, even says that a whole lot of people lost a whole lot of money today over it. It went really well, however, from what I can see, surprising both of them. I think Allēna really needed that experience yesterday and time with Pendragon to get her into the right frame of mind to spend time with Emerson without things going horribly. They enjoyed a nice day in each other’s company with our body nicely stoned.
Emerson himself was in high spirits from the time I took front and still appears to be in a good mood. He’s been having a very rough time with the super-admins deciding in an emergency session to leave him. Pendragon was not included in this decision, but still….it’s been rough. I decided to take a chance on him because I could see the absolutely precious man beneath all the trauma and bullshit and really wanted both he and Pendragon to be okay. Today, that precious man is shining through. I think being around the two of us is doing him a lot of good. I adore him, so I always have fun when he’s around.
I don’t know if she included this observation in yesterday’s post, but I completely agree with Allēna that this strain of weed allows us to exist without all of the barriers we were forced to put in place around our mind and behavior due to trauma. Holy shit, is that world a beautiful place… Her memories of the light pouring through the windows every time she gets stoned are filled with the most aching beauty and vivid color. The people we love are almost unearthly beautiful, as well.
Allēna enjoyed messaging our partners while baked because that mental state gave her permission to say all of the things she had been wanting to say to them for years without the body eating itself alive from fear. It felt like she was finally able to treat them right. I don’t know how true that last part was, but gods, is seeing Allēna unfurl like this and take up space without fear beautiful. She is learning to embrace the attentions of the people she loves and trusts and see herself as they see her, not how her abusers did.
Something else she observed from this experience is that when sober, she often has to consciously remind herself that it’s okay to experience desire of any kind, because she will forget it’s something she is even able to do. Even if it’s simply desire for company or a nice snack, she’ll forget that it’s something she can want and then have to consciously remind herself that it’s okay to want things before she can truly determine if she wants something.
While high, it’s much easier to bypass that multi-step process, which doesn’t appear to simply affect Allēna. The body itself will ache and yearn for anything we desire consciously or unconsciously when we’re high, and it feels exquisite to them to actually fully experience desire instead of simply feeling flat most of the time. Allēna alone gets lost in the ache for hours, letting herself relax fully into the feeling and slipping into an almost meditative state as she daydreams. It appears to provide both the body and the mind some much needed rest.
I would like to work on experiencing that more fully sober, but I know that will take some work on my part and on the system’s. Most of our emotions feel very good, and I want to get more experience with all of them. I think I may be able to do my headmates some good that way. I think reminding the system and the body that it’s safe to experience desire and to crave things and experiences is a good first place to start. Because how can you know what you want in detail if you think on some level that it’s unsafe to want anything? Of course you’ll shut down.
All in all, I’ve really enjoyed today. If you’re reading this, I hope you’ve had an excellent day, as well. You are amazing!
Hey, everyone. This is Allēna again. This will likely be quite a brief post, as I’m very tired. Today was good, in part because Castor went and dropped about a hundred bucks that we had on hand at our favorite headshop down the road and got some legal good shit and a water pipe for his trouble that looks like uranium glass.
Bills are paid (or will be able to) and so we decided that we get to treat ourselves a bit with the leftover money while saving the rest. I’m glad Castor did. He seems to have accidentally purchased some top shelf shit, though, and we have no tolerance anymore after taking a several months long smoke break. The results have been interesting, to say the least.
Just this morning, I scared Sheik’s tiniest cat shitless because the bowl I had smoked was too big and I was having a panic attack. I have no idea WHY she got so scared, but I do know that being around intense emotions makes her scared, and I was intensely frightened. Poor baby love. I will do my best to make it up to the sweet thing later. She seemed to enjoy it initially and even asked for scritchy for a little bit during the first few minutes before I started panicking too bad.
Once I can calm my fucking brain down, that’s when it gets interesting. The system has always enjoyed a good sativa strain, but the headshop didn’t seem to have any, and we wanted a hybrid, anyway. So Castor got his hybrid. He ended up picking up a roughly 50/50 split hybrid strain. And let me tell you – the combination of mind and body high is fascinating once we actually realize that we’re just stoned and anxious, we aren’t about to have a damn seizure.
It’s almost like the conscious mind takes a backseat and the body takes on a life of its own. What we do think consciously is more or less free from any kind of distortions caused by trauma. Castor got high with Sheik the first time and was entranced by her beauty more than usual. I think this was because once his enormous panic attack finally subsided, his fear was almost…muted and he was able to see himself as he actually saw her without need for the elaborate defense system our traumatized brain put in place. From what I can recall, it was beautiful.
My bowl this morning was similar. I had smoked too much at once, so after I’d convinced the body and mind that I was sufficiently safe, it was as though I saw the world in vivid, intense, lovely color. It was early afternoon and golden light was pouring in through the windows. Then the body got very horny. Like obscenely horny. So I started masturbating and, unbound from the elaborate defenses, the body simply did its own thing while we took a backseat. Good gods, I lost track of how many times we finished. We’ve never been able to do something like that before in our entire life. I felt as fucking beautiful as the afternoon coming through the windows.
Hell, there were so many fucking orgasms today that when I sobered up a bit, I went over to Emerson’s and ate basically my body weight in pizza and cheese (to start) and while his attorney alter, Pendragon was watching a movie, I fell deeply asleep while cuddling him for about 2.5 hours. Pendragon is a deep love of mine and feels very safe, so it was a lovely nap. The pain is better, even when I am sober, too. But the body feels like it’s been hit by a train in a great way. Shit.
I’ll update with more findings as time goes on, but we seem to have uncorked something..
Stay tuned for more magic! For now, though, it’s sleep time…
Nul: It doesn’t matter how cutely you stomp your foot or threaten to set the kitchen on fire, we will not be getting the kitten.
Allēna: Please note that being a member of the super admins does not make you immune from public humiliation. You are required to follow the noise ordinance just as everyone else is.
Kalla: Please stop decorating Eight in marzipan and calling him a sweet frozen treat. Yes, he is unable to retaliate currently, but we do not wish to have to deal with the fallout when he eventually de-cryos himself.
Hey, everyone. Allēna here. Lately, I’ve been grieving the fact that the body is so disabled. Therefore, I don’t know how hopeful or positive this post will be, but I can promise that it’ll be honest.
I was never abled. After having a stroke so young, I was always an odd duck. However, I could always fake being abled a whole lot better when I was younger. I could…power through better, so to speak. I know now that just because a disabled person can sometimes power through something, they really fucking shouldn’t. But I miss the days when I even could..
I had to learn how to dissociate from the body and power through tasks that would otherwise be horribly physically painful (and often still were) in order to escape further abuse from my mother, Hera and thereby avoid becoming so burnt out I stopped functioning at all.
I was going to hurt either way, so I might as well take the less painful option and give her hell on the way out, using my wrath at her as fuel. The extent to which Hera wanted my system to appear normal included refusing to accommodate our neurodivergence or even acknowledge it existed at all, except when it suited her. She chose instead to take a “my way or the highway” approach. So I was fucking pissed enough at her that my system and I ended up choosing the fucking highway.
This crippled the body further, as we had to haul ass even harder to survive, despite hauling ass as a baseline for over the past decade. We were beyond burnt out, and when we started working through our trauma, we started to feel it deeply. Eight, who was our host at the time, could often barely get out of bed for weeks at a time. We’ve improved a great deal since that point, but we’re still largely bed and housebound due to chronic pain, fatigue, and agoraphobia.
This makes me horribly sad a lot of the time. I’m still working on getting diagnoses and treatment for everything that’s ailing me health-wise, but I just want to bitch for a second because I’m in my feelings about it, even though solutions are very much in progress. I had gotten so good at powering through after college that I was training for a marathon and was often swimming, as well before the body rebelled, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to run cross country or swim outside again, seeing as the body takes psychic and physical damage whenever it’s outdoors for a number of reasons and we are, in essence, allergic to the sun. And I know that listening to my body and meeting its needs is more important than powering through in any situation, but it just… bugs me and upsets me to a huge degree. Ah, well. One day at a time, I guess. I’ll get there. ✨
Wuddup nerds, it’s ya boi Lumine coming at ‘cha with another post! In my last post, I/Bri gave you our brief overview of each expansion in Final Fantasy 14, and while it was hilarious, I wanted to be a bit more serious and appreciative this time around, because this game is a genuine comfort to me.
If there’s one thing you should take away from me, it’s my love of music. I grew up with music all around me, and have developed a love and comfort for many different genres. When I first loaded into the game, I knew I was in for one hell of a ride!
Masayoshi Soken is the main composer we associate the OST with, and there are not enough words on this earth to properly describe my admiration towards this man and his team. From the foresty vibes of Gridania, to the swashbuckler vibes of Limsa Lominsa, and to the dungeons and boss fights, each piece perfectly captures the feel and vibe of the situations they represent. If I were to play the song that plays in the Black Shroud without you knowing the context of where it plays, I bet you you’d tell me something along the lines of: “Oh hey, are we walking through the woods?”
It doesn’t stop there. This mans is the king of switching things up! Want music to pump you up? Look up some dungeon and boss fights! Want an area to fuck you up emotionally? Try “Unchanging, Everchanging” or “Answers”! How about Gundam vibes? Check out the Alexander Raids! Each piece tells an overarching story, and that’s what I love about it! They fit their areas so perfectly, even traveling through La Nocea gives you pirate vibes, because it’s the wild area for Limsa Lominsa!
This post was all over the place, and I think I might’ve been redundant in some of my verbiage, but my TL;DR is as follows: Masayoshi Soken and his wonderful music team really know how to tell the story of FFXIV through its music, and aren’t afraid to explore a variety of genres ranging from orchestral to techno!
Hey, everyone! Dria here. I’m Allēna’s cousin and a rather infrequent fronter, but I’m here today, so I figured I would scream into the void while I’m on deck for your viewing pleasure, because why not? We’ve challenged Sheik to write a blog post every day for the remainder of the week and I like participating in challenges. So I’m here, aboard the fucking bandwagon. Welcome to the shitshow, only Dria Edition today.
I came across this post (shown below) while making my Facebook rounds and it got me thinking.
The post I came across while scrolling. It was the most delicious synchronicity, really.
I firmly believe that hope, like love, isn’t a feeling. Rather, it’s a practice. Sure, a person can feel hopeful or excited or optimistic about something, but it’s the practice of it, the action of it that gets them from that feeling to actually having the thing they’re hoping for in hand. So, by that logic, is perseverance through spite a substitute, or is it merely hope put into practice with a different motivation than blissful optimism? I would argue that it isn’t a substitute at all. Not by a long shot. Here’s why.
I’m not an optimist. Perhaps I’m an idealist, and a very angry one, and I belong to a system of very angry idealists who believe a better world is possible via widespread, hands on action and by people putting in the work to make the world a better, easier place for everyone, not just the rich fucks in power. And they’ve been putting in that work for years. They don’t stand for bullshit, Allēna especially, and they’ve worked very hard to heal and build a life that, at its core, prioritizes rest and care, fuck whatever the rest of the world has to say about it.
We were raised from a young age like many neurodivergent people socialized as women in Western culture, to be obedient, self-sacrificing for the good of everyone else around us at the expense of our own comfort and safety, to appear “normal”. There was one small problem there. We had gotten very sick as a tiny baby, had contracted heart failure due to a virus that attacked the body’s heart, and then had a stroke in quick succession, and had narrowly survived. This threw a wrench in the conditioning, because in order for us to appear normal, we had to be anywhere close to normal.
People who are anywhere close to normal do not survive near fatal heart failure without a goddamned transplant, fucking massive strokes, then go on to walk, talk, sing, and teach themselves how to play numerous musical instruments by fucking ear. We were fighters with a will stronger than goddamned diamond even before the age of a year old. Fuck iron. Anything less a will made from something stronger than the hardest stone on Earth and we would be dead. And by the fucking gods, we were not fucking dying. Not yet. We were fucking pissed.
Nobody believed we’d survive that objectively hopeless situation, but we fucking survived it and became goddamned polymaths to show for it. Forget normal. If we were normal, we would be long dead by now. We put hope into practice even when we didn’t realize that’s what we were doing simply because we didn’t give up the fight. Our mind broke into 1,700 pieces but our solid will did not, even after countless people wrote us off, mocked us, tortured us, abused us, and neglected us. We never fucking gave up.
We called what we were doing by a number of names – rage, spite, revenge, survival – but what it ultimately was was hope as a daily practice. By putting one foot in front of the other and choosing to move forward when we didn’t want to and could have given up, we were practicing hope. And now, we’re 27. We’re safe. We saved ourselves, goddamnit. I’m writing this from a cozy bed in Sheik’s apartment. Because of their mad hope, their courage, and their fucking indomitable will, my headmates’ work in a variety of disciplines has saved lives and they’ve built an honest to gods shitposting empire on social media, as well. I’m proud to be a part of this cockroach system that understands that hope isn’t a fucking emotion and puts it into practice every day even when the odds are stacked and the game is rigged.
So if you feel like your situation is hopeless, may you have the sheer guts to be spiteful for long enough to realize that you were practicing hope all along. ✨
Peace out, esteem’d sewer rat warriors. As always, stay tuned for more FUCKING magic.
Hey, everyone. This is Fen. Today was difficult, there are no two ways about it. Eight was in front for most of it, and he started feeling really stressed out about all the shit he had to get done. So he started talking to Emerson’s attorney alter Castor dragged through the mud the other day about everything going on. The basic gist of it was that he’s beyond exhausted because he is often placed in positions where he has to save the people he loves from all manner of horrible predicaments often outside of their control when he’s barely able to take care of himself or they’ll face a terrible fate, and he’s burnt out and done with the whole damn thing. He’s got the means and charisma to stand up for people and help them where they can’t help themselves, but he’s also just one guy trying to shoulder the weight of an unfair economic system and make a difference when things objectively shouldn’t be this way, and it’s hurting him.
I can’t really blame him. Looking back through the logs, he’s had to carry himself through unspeakable horrors, often privately, and then after he was some measure of safe, he began helping those he loved get out because he couldn’t bear to see them suffer due to circumstances that they didn’t cause when he had the mind, skill, and connections to get them out. But now, years later, he’s tired and wants something better for himself and everyone he loves. The body is fucking bedbound, for crying out loud, and just because he can help doesn’t mean he always should, especially when the stress is so bad it’ll take him out for days to weeks. He knows it isn’t his responsibility to save everyone or even anyone but himself, but he worries about what will happen to the people he loves if he taps out. And honestly, I don’t know. I hate the thought of it as much as he does.
So we’re at a fucking loss here. We are tired of being heroes, because every time we save someone, the burnout gets more intense, we’re placed on an even higher pedestal, and we just really want a goddamn vacation.
I think that’s all I’ve got for y’all today, unfortunately.
Hey, everyone! This is Eight. I haven’t been out in a bit, as I’ve been taking a much needed rest, and it seems like our people and the blog have been fucking hopping! I love to see it!
We’re at the Zelda System’s place again this week, and Sheik herself is cradling me and taking a day nap. She deserves the rest, sweet thing. She works extremely hard and deserves to rest and play as hard as she works, so I’m happy to be held while she sleeps. It feels like a sacred honor to be a soothing and protective presence while our lovely partner sleeps so she gets good rest.
We often think quite deeply when we’re over here to the point that it becomes almost meditative. It’s deeply restful for us to be around her and the others in her system as much as it is for her to be around us. Sheik is so gentle and tender with Allēna that Allēna ends up deeply processing and working through her deepest fears due to Sheik’s mere empathetic presence. It’s scary because Allēna must face these fears head on in order to communicate them with Sheik, but Sheik has never shamed or judged her for her fears and often responds in such a way that sharing is easier for her by the day.
We deeply fear vulnerability as a system, but Sheik and her current headmates’ kind presences have made them safe to share with. Something that came up today that Sheik responded extremely kindly to was Allēna feeling guilty for asking for a favor. In a moment that should be a fucking case study for top notch communication, Allēna noticed she was feeling guilty and anxious for asking Sheik for that favor, so she told Sheik outright what she was feeling and asked point blank for reassurance, which Sheik willingly gave.
From there, this uncorked a second wave of emotion and memories as Allēna explored the root of why she felt so guilty and afraid of asking for help while Sheik stood as witness. This is what she found.
As a child and young adult, we were abused and neglected into keeping our needs and desires invisible and only meet or attain them on our own. Our mother, Hera, was very emotionally withdrawn, and had little tolerance for our – at the time – enormous emotions we had no idea what to do with. So we were severely emotionally abused out of expressing them in a way most people could recognize. However, Allēna resisted.
She is far more emotional than she lets on to most, and turned to art as a means to express herself and protest in the midst of a family who had, for all intents and purposes, abandoned her. She became a highly skilled multidisciplinary artist, creating an enormous volume of work most people, even people who have known our system for years, have never seen. For a decade, she kept a journal not unlike this blog which she, Castor, and occasionally myself wrote in almost daily. It reverberates with the full spectrum of human emotion, sadness, punctuated with joy, with deep currents of rage and willpower most people don’t attain until midlife. And that’s just the journals.
She was also an accomplished visual artist, turning to a brush and canvas when words failed her. She created a series of paintings in which she documented her various emotional states. Anger, her most common emotion – and the most forbidden to express during the time we were under Hera’s thumb – was her favorite piece. Its very existence was an act of rebellion. Slashes of black paint against large swaths of white space, which she knew Hera hated.
Anger (unknown year) by Allēna
The longer we work on our communication with like minded friends and partners, the more we unpick the years of trauma that kept the mountain of exquisite longing beneath the surface. We are very logical, yes, but we also have a treasure trove of emotion often stored in the body. The more we’re able to safely communicate it with people who can hold it with respect, the deeper we’re able to process and feel it. It’s deeply healing and freeing, and we’re eternally grateful to those who witness us. Thank you.
