Tag: Sheik

  • Live, Laugh, Lesbian

    Hey, this is Allēna. I have a really bad stomachache, so I don’t have a lot of energy to write right now, but I do want to share this crop top Emerson got for me. I’m bisexual, but I do love it when women.

    It says “live, laugh, lesbian” on it. I love it. The gas bubble seems to be clearing up, so I think I’ll ramble a bit more…

    Speaking of gay behavior, Sheik is cuddling me off and on while she writes on her blog (that Castor actually executive designed and Ceryse built for her) and is being very cute. Earlier I concocted this bit on the fucking fly about hypothetically running for President as a joke. This had a very tired Sheik in stitches, which made me get butterflies in my stomach to see, honestly. However, the scary part about this is that we would probably win that way, and then become a meme lord of a POTUS as a result. Hell, there were like two years running there where my headmate Eight was actually fucking deified on the Internet because he made a joke about being someone’s god one time. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow with my physical therapy doctor and she’s coming with, so that will hopefully make things a lot easier on my agoraphobia..

    I was also feral on a Discord call with our friends Min and Ella while hanging out Emerson earlier. Min said that calling me had the same energy as texting me, so I was being no stranger than normal. This was a massive relief – I’m absolutely unhinged IRL, just about as much as I am online when I don’t mask. So it was nice to be seen and loved for that.

    Well, I think I’m going to wander off and sleep now. Good night, y’all! Stay tuned for more magic!

    -Allēna

  • Have a meme!

    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

  • Nightcall

    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

  • Marijuana Tales

    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…

    -Allēna

  • Hope As A Practice

    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.

    -Dria (he/him), Rat Lord

  • A Decade of Hidden Longing

    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.

    As always, stay tuned for more magic!

    -Eight

  • First Breath After Coma

    Hello, all! My name is Castor. I’m the Ashley system’s first host, and I went dormant for fifteen years at the age of eleven. I titled this post “First Breath After Coma” because I was essentially comatose for fifteen years inside my own mind while my body and headmates carried on without me, and while I’ve been awake for about a year now, I feel like I’m finally breathing.

    As I write this, my beautiful girlfriend Sheik is cuddling me while she sleeps, and she’s a big reason why I feel like I’m finally able to breathe. I emerged from dormancy severely touch averse where most people are concerned to such a degree that I won’t front around many, but I went out on a limb with Sheik and I’m glad I trusted my gut. It’s a miracle she can touch me at all, as the touch aversion makes it feel for most like my skin is burning if most people even consider touching me. But her? She feels so wonderful she can touch me anytime she likes, and she’s very clingy with me, and I’m the same with her. I love it – and her – dearly.

    While I enjoy the company of the system’s other partners that I’ve met so far (the damned attorney in Emerson’s system is a notable exception, he annoys me and I tolerate him for my headmates’ sake), I’ve only really bonded closely with Sheik so far. I look forward to seeing how things develop with the others, provided they aren’t the lawyer type. The only lawyer whose company I’ve ever enjoyed is my great-aunt. There’s only room for one argumentative bitch system in this polycule, and by gods, we’ll defend you with our life, but I really hate being grilled. However, I digress.

    I used to not be nearly so touch averse, but was still very selective with who I clung to. My childhood was fucked, see: our Tragic Backstory posts, so I didn’t enjoy many members of my family. That being said, I loved my late grandmother. She was my fucking person. This woman was raised wealthy in New Jersey, very close to New York City. She was absolutely brilliant and delightfully eccentric, the closest thing to a living, breathing faerie I’ve ever seen.

    She met my paternal grandfather while she was running the damn lab where he worked as a pathologist, and became his second wife. She was a chemist by trade, read books backwards, was left-handed, and had warm, kind brown eyes with the loveliest violet rings around them. She was also a gourmet chef and baker and slept only about four hours a night. After she retired, she and my paternal grandfather became fucking art dealers, then retired properly to a sumptuously decorated log cabin in the Texas Hill Country.

    Her idea of retirement was running the fucking town where she lived, as she was involved in damn near everything. This woman was an inevitable powerhouse of indefatigable energy and warmth. She slept only about four hours a night, the perfect sleep schedule for my extremely anxious tiny self. Before the body came down with mononucleosis at the age of sixteen, we also only slept about four to five hours a night, and we are lucky if we get six hours a night now.

    So on nights I struggled to sleep, she would tell me stories about her youth in New Jersey until I fell asleep in her arms, then I would wander downstairs about four hours later at perhaps six in the morning, and she would already be hard at work baking something like two hundred cookies for a charity event. She would make me a small cup of coffee, as she knew I loved it, but it would give my small frame the jitters, and we would begin the morning slowly.

    She didn’t believe in sitting with one’s brain idle, but she did believe passionately in doing things one enjoyed to pass the time. So she was fascinating and took equal fascination in what I was doing. I was an unusual child, and she supported my dual special interests in computers and Greek mythology while making an effort to stimulate my mind and get me to explore new things. I gladly participated for the most part, as I loved her dearly and trusted her with everything I have. We explored a great deal of the Hill Country, went to more lovely antique stores than most children ever see, ate some truly amazing food at extremely inventive restaurants, and generally had a blast. She expanded my mind while still making me feel safe, and I loved her for it. Sheik reminds me of her in many ways, and I think that’s why she is so comforting.

    I only front once it’s safe now that the vessel is an adult and we’re free to make our own decisions, and it feels like I’m seeing color again for the first time since the events that led to me becoming dormant. I’m getting out more slowly, so are my headmates, we’re meeting new people, and bonding more closely with our partners and friends, not just Sheik and her compatriots in the Zelda System. We’re working our way out of a major depersonalization and chronic fatigue hole that we’ve been mired in for years, and frankly I love it. We’re actually learning how to be vulnerable and unguarded with our people, as well, and the results are beautiful. I would even venture to call them deeply magical.

    Speaking of magic, stay tuned for more of that! I’m excited to see how things go.

    -Castor, Original Host

  • The Blood of the Covenant

    Howdy, everyone. My name’s Fen. I’m one of the super-admins here as of late, and I have some thoughts about family, both chosen and blood that I’d like to scream about a bit, as we’ve been talking with our girlfriend Sheik about the system’s early life a great deal and that got several of us thinking.

    I see Millennials and Gen Z get a lot of shit for still living around or with their families, and frankly, I hate it. It’s complete and utter horseshit. Western culture prizes hyper independence to such an extreme degree that people forget now that we’re a fucking social species and have lived in huge multigenerational cohorts for most of human history. The setup we believe to be “traditional” – one man, one woman, and their children, living by themselves, separated from their in-laws and relying on none other but themselves – is a relatively recent invention and keeps people fucking isolated from other people they might otherwise form close connections with, share resources with, ask for help, etc..

    Now, I’m all for monogamy and heterosexual relationships if they’re consensual, negotiated, and entered into willingly, but I myself am a committed pansexual polyamorist who inhabits a large system who made the agonizingly painful decision to distance themselves from the multigenerational cohort they themselves were raised in due to years of abuse very few of those fucks were even willing to acknowledge.

    Yes, for all of Hera and Xavier’s big talk of being independent, resourceful, and pulling yourself up by your goddamned bootstraps, they ironically raised Castor, Allēna, and the others in the system before me in an enormous extended family network made up of great grandparents, grandparents, great aunts, great uncles, cousins, second cousins, the whole fucking nine yards, funnily enough.

    Neither of them would have gotten anywhere without both our maternal and paternal grandparents, who helped with damn near everything. Hell, Hera, Ms. “I’m The Most Normal, Independent Woman to Ever Live”, has never lived more than a thirty minute drive away from her parents and her sister for the body’s entire life. At last check, she lives next door to her parents and they knocked the fence between their land down so they could visit each other easier.

    This by itself isn’t a bad thing. I simply find it hilarious that Hera was completely incapable of practicing what she so thoroughly attempted to beat into Allēna, independence and normalcy. Hera, that ain’t normal by today’s standards. Sociologically, it’s completely right, but it sure as fuck ain’t considered normal.

    Once my headmates were estranged from them, they didn’t want a bullshit nuclear family type setup in the life they were going to build for themselves. Allēna’s first marriage to Fang showed her that she didn’t want that. Anything that even smelled like compulsory, possessive monogamy and the trappings that came with that were not her or the rest of the system’s thing. Even Eight’s very serious relationship with his beloved Delta, which is still very loving despite now being platonic, was very open and they both had a wide range of deep emotional connections despite being initially monogamous. They were possessive of each other, but only because they wanted to be. Eight loved Delta more than anything, and did his utmost to show it in every way he could, and they enjoyed it when he was possessive of them, and vice versa. They both came into the relationship having built fine lives of their own and gotten to know themselves and each other deeply, and most of the work there was learning how the other communicated best. It was – and still is – magical, in many ways.

    When Eight and the rest of the system got into polyamory, they took what they had learned from the relationship with Delta and crafted that same magic, only with multiple committed relationships simultaneously. Perhaps the most interesting part of it all is that I’ve noticed that we’ve built that same sort of non-nuclear extended family network the original alters here were raised with, only with people we chose. We’re still close with a few members of our blood family, as well, but they were the select few brilliant black sheep who were good to us well into adulthood, so we chose them, as well. Our close friends are also an integral part of this web, and we don’t want to do life without a single soul present.

    Our life is certainly not normal, but it is rich and full of color and joy. If you’re reading this, you’re probably someone we love and treasure. Thank you for being here. Your presence means everything to me and to my system. Always remember that “blood is thicker than water” is actually incorrect. The original saying is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”.

    As always, stay tuned for more magic!

    -Fen

  • Thinking Cat Thoughts

    Hey, everyone!

    This is Allēna. We’ve been severely writer’s blocked these days, so I have a bit of a sillier post in mind. Part of the reason why the situation with Zelda went south was because Zelda is actually a system like us, and two of the alters therein were causing major problems. Now that those problems have been worked through, the remaining alters are complete and utter loves. I’m actually dating one of them now! Yay, polyamory.

    I’m staying over at the Zelda System’s house for a few days, and my partner in the aforementioned system, Sheik, gave us a Homework Assignment while she’s away at work today. My headmate Castor was loopy as hell on seizure meds and doing his best impression of the Zelda System’s cat’s inner monologue last night, so she tasked whoever was fronting today with making shitposts about this absolutely beautiful fluff. Here’s the first one. Presenting, for your viewing pleasure, this cat’s thoughts…

    I love this clip. She sounds like Borat.

    I may post more bullshit today. Stay tuned for more magic regardless!

    -Allēna