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#it’s still impossible for me physically mentally spiritually emotionally and I would not make it to the end

compassionatereminders · 11 months

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(Vent) Ahaha hey Kat, so I messaged sometime back about a whole disaster of a situation regarding being in (or maybe I was about to be in?) an on-again-off-again messy FWB thing with my older flatmate who can't communicate, he said he loved me and I wasn't sure how he meant it and he wouldn't acknowledge it, and you told me to step away from the whole mess and I kind of don't think I was in the headspace to listen smh, which is my fault. An update on that: it turns out that he talks in his sleep, it seems, and I shouldn't have spiralled so hard about it that I questioned my own feelings and convinced myself I might feel romantically towards him. It turns out I'm just lonely and my possible BPD was acting up, rip. So we talked it out and kept it going.

Unfortunately I'm still lonely and craving some sort of intimacy, platonic or sexual or otherwise, and his mental state only continues to get worse. Last weekend his ex gf showed up at our flat while I was VERY luckily out, and apparently whatever happened there was bad enough that it made him completely "reconsider" things all over again. Now his walls are up again in full force and it feels like he doesn't spend more time with me than he has to as a flatmate. PLUS he got discharged from therapy this week because they "can't help him" and has nowhere else to go. So I can't blame him for distancing himself, I just wish my own brain would stop craving something that I can't ask for from him. And I wish I could hide it better that I miss his company and that I'm craving physical affection of literally any sort, but I also wish I didn't have to? Just now today I hinted, because it came up, that I would like a hug, and he took it as a great deal more pressure than I meant to put on him. And said he wished he could just escape on his own to somewhere "he could be free from people asking things of him". Oof. Been there, but also oof.

I feel guilty, because I don't want my own bad brain and its frequent neediness to be making his worse, but at the same time, I feel selfish for feeling like I deserve more than to be made to feel like I can't express a single casual request. He said that, although I don't even usually ask for comfort like that in words for fear of making him uncomfortable, he can still tell from my body language and energy and expressions. So essentially now I'm hesitant to be around him at all, because maybe my mere presence feels like pressure to him, in a way I can't control. It's kind of draining, and I wish I felt strong enough to step away from it all of my own volition rather than being forced out of his life. But I still care about him and like him and uhhh want to have sex with him, and also still fucking live with him anyway so. Yeah. Complicated.

Sorry this was just a long vent to process the humiliation just now of having asked for a hug from someone my brain is not normal about, and been essentially flatly rejected and guilt-tripped about it. I normally have higher standards than this. He's never going to care about me even as a friend, but the thought of just 'moving on and finding someone else' seems impossible when I'm still hung up on him. But also I'm definitely spiralling, and BPD makes it very very hard to trust my brain about anything that ever happens to me. So. Spiritually and emotionally I have a headache. This was largely just a vent, but if you have any advice on HOW exactly to stand up and move on from this, that would be much appreciated. 💜

Honestly? Step away from this mess of a situation. For real. Cut contact if needed. Focus on managing your own emotions and symptoms instead of trying to placate his. Because this situationship obviously isn't making either of you happy, and it sounds like that's unlikely to change. And letting him drag you down with him is unnecessary. You deserve better and you CAN have it someday. Just not with this guy

#chat with kat #sex tw #guilt tripping tw

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congregamus · 2 years

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Happy Apostiversary, GP

A year ago today, I walked away from what was — by all who measured — a strong, if complicated, monastic vocation. This is an echo of another apostasy from another strong and complicated relationship — mine with music. Neither of those vocations (classical performer, Marian monastic) could survive the ironic reality of the mystical experiences I have had, both "vocations" being my fantasies about myself, which, for my own amusement, I projected onto a world-sized screen.

Surprisingly — or perhaps, not — I had my first mystical experience this same calendar week in May of 2010. It lasted probably about 5-10 clock minutes, but it crashed my mental OS for a couple of days, after which, I pretended that nothing of significance had happened.

Then, in the summer of 2011, on a tour bus, I had a spiritual breaking-open that lasted for a few days, and, after which, it was impossible to continue my life as I had been living it. As a result, my career as a performer started to die, and I eventually retired from classical music. This was driven almost entirely by my need to make sense of what had happened to me.

It took me three more years to let go of my "success," but I eventually changed my career from performer to caregiver. I worked on myself in solitude and developed my compassion practicum.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere,* I was the beneficiary of a type of Annunciation from a casual envoy of a group of life religious, the Community of the Mother of Jesus (CMJ). Willing to be puzzled, I perceived the metaphor and said, "fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum."

In the context of my performing career, I understood — demonstrably, measurably — why it was better for me to subordinate my individuality to the collective. Ironically, in life religious, it was not immediately clear what might be achieved by this habit (pardon the pun). I did, however, recognize the story pattern that my life likes to use, and I showed up consciously.

From very recent experience, I knew at the time better than to align with any organization or meta-narrative, but I found that I was willing again to subordinate myself for the sake of... I suppose I must admit I knew not what. For six years, I did my spiritual work within the context of the Episcopal church.

On the one hand, my interface with Divinity has been mostly a top-down flow; however, it is not my intent to disparage bottom-up models. (Non-physical space being non-physical, directionality is a very limited tool for communicating these ideas, but we have to use what we have.) I'm used to down-flow, and it's possible that the move into life religious (that is to say explicitly: the desire to experience the conscious Crucifixion of the ego) bubbled up from deeper than that to which I normally have access.**

On this anniversary of both my becoming a mystic and abandoning its Christian expression, it's difficult to conclude anything meaningful while remaining emotionally honest.

For example, it would be easy enough, though perhaps ill-advised, to forge a quick meaning out of these fragments. (I write poetry; I've been doing that for decades, after all.) But there is something unutterable in the Vision of Apocalypse whose "feast" I celebrate today. That very something confirms the necessity of rubble and reconstruction, each a half-truth.

I must remain honest that I am still in the rubble. This is in part, perhaps, due to my misreading*** of the book of life that led me to adjoin myself with a monastic community, perhaps the same kind of misreading that led me to accept an offer from institutional classical music and which initiated this near-total transformation which is naturally no real change at all.

I keep thinking "surely, this dark night of the soul is almost over..." It is necessary to remember, though, that when I understood that what was next required of me was to dive as deeply within myself as I had soared above in Vision, I dove deep and true. In fact, unless I experience profound "divine grace," my perception of the journey "back up" will take just as long. I should probably expect this "dark night" to last another 9-10 ("earth") years. That's just a guess, but it's a good guess.

The twin "passions" of my choral career and my tenure with life religious were by no means necessary, but I admit that — though I could not have known it at the time — I "agreed" to them. People use game imagery for the "play of life," and I think it is a good image. If you get hurt in the game played in good faith, there is no one to blame, but it may still be necessary to heal. That's perhaps the best way of saying "where" I am subjectively positioned on this anniversary's solemn celebration.

____________________

FOOTNOTES

*Good stories being what they are, this was very much not out of nowhere. In hindsight, this was a clear development/recapitulation of primary thematic material. This Annunciation would not have had a stage on which to play itself out had I not been singing — again!, against my declarations to the contrary — in a choir. (Please note also that my professional choral career revolved almost entirely around singing the praises of the Blessed Virgin in a secular context.) If I had not attached myself to the loft at Atonement (for money), when I had that conversation with my personal Angel Gabriel upon which my biography turned, there would have been no resonance between us for the metaphor to transfer and regenerate itself.

**At its most basic, being a "top-down" person means that I usually prefer abstraction and intellectualization over specificity and practicality. A "bottom-up" perspective — which is what Christianity expresses fundamentally in the Incarnation — is not the mode in which I feel as fluent, though I am learning to balance those "directional flows." I prefer down-flow models because it helps me predict in the face of chaos, but up-flow-orientation can be just as good at assessment and prediction. As regards "deeper than that to which I have access," this is intended to be in comparison to the "higher" aspects of intellect, to which I often have access. Chthonic feeling remains closed to me unless I'm out of my mind on substance.

*** Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg, author of The Beginning of Desire: Reflections on Genesis, accusing Jacob, accuses me: "In view of this, Jacob's attempt to resolve, to "read" the text of God's covenant in the light of his own life seems impeccable. And yet, as we have seen, God does not merely override Jacob's reading (as in the above midrash), but – much more radically – He marks such an attempt, wherever it occurs, as vulgar misreading, a lack of aesthetic tact."

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acidmoonvines · 2 days

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Listen as suicidal as I am I’ve been in & out of intensive treatment programs including years of outpatient & several instances of inpatient. Several medications SSRI’s, prescribed benzos, mild - intermediate anxiety meds, & even antipsychotics. I’ve been in & out of therapy since I was 8 years old & still am in therapy to this day. Hospitalizations & psych wards do more harm than they ever do good because of the way the staff treat the patients in the ward. Especially the adult units. I once was woken up after falling asleep for 6 hours from seroquil & I was very dazed & confused because I didn’t even remember falling asleep. The nurse came in shoving medications in my face telling me to take them & all I could muster to ask her was “what are you giving me”. She immediately got offensive & told me that if I don’t take the pills right this second she is going to chart that I’m being noncompliant & will tell my psychiatrist that I need a longer stay (I had already been in there 3 weeks at that point). I told her to just please tell me what she was giving me & it’s not fair to medicate me without any knowledge of what I’m being force fed. She wrote on my chart that I was refusing treatment. I went to court at 18 years old & had to fight to keep my adult rights already because of my suicide attempt & my mother telling them I was emotionally unstable (hilarious coming from the same woman who screamed, threw things at me, told me she never loved me or wanted me, & would threaten to run away & never come back my entire childhood leading up to her kicking me out of the house with no job, money, or place to go but it was her word against mine) and after the court deemed that as long as I take my medications & go to my court appointed online therapy that I would be allowed to go home to my first apartment. I was court appointed to attend these meetings while on several medications everyday that made me so sedated that I started to fall asleep during every single 4 hour therapy session & they threatened to send me back, despite forcing me to take these medications that made it impossible to stay awake through these early morning sessions.

The mental health judicial system has never been right for me & I feel as though I’m just not made for a world like this. I wish for a day where legal euthanasia becomes available where I live so that I’m not left with the options of being locked up for the rest of my life with no rights, going crazy in isolation treated like a monster by the medical personnel who lack any sort of compassion for sick people, or going crazy on my own in regular life with my rights but still feeling zero hope in myself or my life.

Why are these my only options? I don’t even have insurance anymore, my therapy group is completely free & I was so drunk when I signed up for it last summer I have no clue how I even ended up joining & being accepted within, I think it may be thru some sort of church? Idk. Either way. No matter the situation, no matter the option, I am perpetually trapped in my own head.

As for my last post, I decided to stay fully sober yesterday & this morning I woke up with a flare up of my back pain that has completely gone away ever since I started doing the percs. I tried everything to make it go away today, otc pain meds, sleep, several ice packs & heat packs all day. & nothing helped except for when I did a couple lines of the percs. As if a hospital would ever give me that option if I were to go back in. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, financially, I’m in a neverending crisis and my options have become extremely limited. And yet people think I still should have the right to life. I promise you, that no one could bear to live like this.

#tw vent #tw drug use #tw addiction #tw drugs #drugblr #drug addikt #dont report just block #don’t report just block

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be-gay-do-heists · 3 years

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hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam.

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

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(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/.

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

#leverage #miko speaks #jewish stuff #jumblr #leverage redemption #spoilers #lr spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #written for a non leverage audience because i want my rabbi to read it alskdjflaksdjf #elul

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lilmajorshawty · 4 years

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I hope this isn’t to vulgar to ask but have you experienced men of every rising sign? More so would you be able to speak on the genitalia of all the eighth house signs in men you’ve encountered? I would like to see if there is any merit in the general depictions of the eighth house when it comes to sex organs

Haha you’re fine my love! I don’t mind being of help!

I personally attract virgo, Sagittarius, Gemini, Scorpio rising men the most. I have had sexual encounters with men of all 12 zodiac signs and I’ve managed to get rising signs for a great deal of them! Sadly I can’t speak broadly on many of the rising signs considering the higher volume of the four I just mentioned being the majority of the ones that come my way.

Aries rising men: in my experience? Sweet, they are very much what you see is what you get types considering their entire chart is a reflection of the natural traits of all 12 zodiac signs in their comfortable houses. Sexually I would say their sexual organs look dark, like literally they have a darker tone then the rest of their body. They aren’t rough sexually but they can be very intense, if I could describe them? I’d say it felt like I was swimming in a pool at night with strobe lights at the bottom. They know how to have sex and it feels good, they are very much so emotionally available during and after. Very violent orgasams and can seem very spiritual during.

Taurus rising men: in my experience? Babies. They can be needy and distant at the same time, very weird mix. They want things at a very specific time and can be hard to compromise with especially sexually. the thing that stood out to me is how fast they ejaculate, and I don’t mean this in a bad way, they are just very easily aroused much like a literal bull. They tend to love foreplay but if you’re too good at it they’ll cum fast. They can be very vibrant and bubbly during sex lots of laughter, but if they’re not laughing they’re usually just super into it lmao. They have very big and long sexual organs. I wouldn’t say thick, I would say more like a long sword in typical sag style. They are very out of tune emotionally during sex so that’s the only downside.

Gemini rising men: in my experience? Sad boys. They got issues and they’re not good at hiding them. They can seem moody, aloof and slightly misunderstood. I can’t peg them sometimes, they seem like they have a mixture of mommy and daddy issues but then they can seem arrogant and self assured at a moments notice. Domination kinks and restriction plague them. I would say the sex is often sensual and deeply attentive in its nature. They want to feel all of it and none of it at the same time. Touch and physical intimacy is the thing they adore the most in sex and I think that’s what makes them so special. They’re really sweet and good natured and you get to see that part of them more freely during sex as contrary to the belief of Capricorn in the 8th these natives are tremendously affectionate and loving during sex. I will say that they get sad or more serious after climax and I have no idea wether Saturn does that or if it’s something deeper. They may be a bit on the smaller side when it comes to sexual organs in most cases but they know how to use it for sure. They are very horny like the goat

Cancer rising men: in my experience? I’ve dealt with some who have cap and others who have aqua in the 8th, for some reason the result is still similar in a way. They can be soooo receptive, they know what you need better than you do. They are present but not overbearing. They feel parental but in a way that feeds the parts of you that felt like they were missing something. I’d say sex always comes with a lesson with them. It’s never just casual sex. They tend to nurture during sex and can be very emotionally deep and connective during. They are definitely the type you spend the night with naturally or hang out with the next few days or unexpectedly end up dating. The sexual organs are usually pretty unique! Some curve, some have like those cute beauty marks on em. They also tend to be well hung.

Leo rising men: in my experience? I found them to be distant, perplexing and heavy. They seem a bit disengaged but can have moments of affectionate behavior and romantic burst that come from nowhere. Sexually though they can be passive, they feel real wet and liquidy I dunno how to describe it. Sex with them just feels very moist and like there’s a lot of fluids everywhere but idk it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. They precum a lot and can be very submissive. They are not horny per say? They are more on the “if you wanna” side of things. So Neptune and Jupiter rule Pisces so as you can already imagine these men tend to be packing some heat. They sorta dunno how to use it though? For some reason they have a very clumsy way of having sex as if they’ve never done it before? They don’t really have boundaries either so you’ll need to make sure to ask them if they’re okay cause a lot of the time they might not be.

Virgo rising men: in my experience? I’m gonna try and not be biased. These men are very ethereal. They are very quiet and genuine. They have this very honest and blunt way about doing and saying things. They carry a lot of pain though and you can see it in their eyes which I will say they have very intense eyes. Sexually? They are VERY passionate. They treat sex like a sport but not a fun sport, rather they treat it like a life or death ring match. They definitely pack a punch and will rock your shit. They can be deeply sensitive and intimate all the while being completely in tune with every part of you during sex in such a way that’ll make you feel like you’re freefalling. The genitals in my experience are veiny, very masculine in the way they look. Every time I see a guy with a Virgo rising it never ceases to amaze me how rough and aggressive their penis are. They are also very intense ejaculators and can be very big on equal ejaculation(my pleasure is your pleasure theme) contrary to the Aries myth, they can go and go and go for hours without cumming so as a warning please try and build your stamina

Libra rising men: in my experience? Confused? They can seem like they’re waiting for something to start but also won’t do anything to make something start. They can seem aggressive but are secretly hoping you make the first move. They are very touchy and very adorable in their being but they definitely can be the types to let the other person take the lead. One thing I’ve always liked about libra rising men is their cute butts and their charming way of seducing you without oversexualizing the situation. Sexually they are AMAZING Jesus. Once you get them going they will really run rampant. They are very sensual and they love slow touching and intimacy. They are emotionally present and can have a personality change during sex, they turn into a whole other Individual. A warning I will say is that they get very caught up in the moment and you’ll have to snap them out of it from time to time if they’re to caught up in the pleasure. They’re sexual organs like most fixed signs is pretty thick and heavy. In my experience the length is normal but the girth is what will really kill yah.

Scorpio rising men: in my experience? Fuck these guys are HOT. They don’t have to try very hard either which is annoying, they literally just exude this strong, mysterious and emotionally unavailable energy that makes you want to strip right in front of them. Are they into you? Do they care? Are you more into it then them? Who knows and they probably won’t tell you. They can be very manipulative and tend to gaslight(and I’m not joking about this nor am I jokingly using the term) they tend to have mental detachments from their emotions which can give them sociopath like tendecies. Sexually they are curious, very control oriented. They want to watch you go crazy so most times they leave you in charge. Riding is one of their favorite positions because they get to see you fein for them. They are senstive to your feelings during sex but don’t mistake this for them being emotionally invested in you, the Gemini in their 8th house is playing whatever role gets you to respond in the way they desire. They are very loving nonetheless when they do truly care for you. The sexual organs are usually very thick. I think they’re the ones who invented the word chode. The penis tends to be girthy and also has a pretty good length to it, and they definitely know how to work it.

Sagittarius rising men: in my experience? These guys are some fucking heartthrobs! I hate to say it but man they are so rugged and masculine you can’t help but love their boyish nature. They are definitely obnoxious, loud and ridiculously dense when it comes to reading the room. What makes them so hot though is how reckless they are with all things. They don’t give a shit. Sexually though? Emotions run HIGH they tend to be very drawn to feminine energy. A lot of guys like this adore feminity in all forms be it in men or women. If you have that feminine glow to you, they’ll eat you up. They tend to have a strong desire to impregnate and the idea of being connected and having that sort of emotional receptivity with the person their fucking drives them wild. They are very intense sexually and can be very overwhelming the first few times mainly because adjusting to them is impossible, you never know what emotional spectrum you’ll get. Their sexual organs aren’t that big, sometimes they can be girthy but most times long and or average size tends to be what I see more. Are they good at using it? Yeah, you’ll fall asleep right after trust me.

Capricorn rising men: in my experience? They are very unassuming. They are so fucking calm, so fucking unmoved and so fucking ahead of you every time. They don’t rush things and can really make you feel so comfortable with how respectful and real they are. They have a very boy next door or upstairs neighbor vibe to them. Sleeping with them feels naughty sometimes other times it feels like it was a long build up. Sexually they are exhibitionist. They definitely will fill the hell out of you with their more modest persona at first. They want to enjoy all parts of your body but they also want the show to be about them. They want to hear you want them, how good they make you feel, they want it to feel like a performance where the crowd is watching. And dare I say they are constantly mastering their art, sex gets better and better and better with them. There’s never a dull moment and every time they have sex with you it gets more personal, more intense, more all consuming. They have a high libido and they are practically insatiable. They are selfish but I will say this, if you can’t get them off they definitely will do it themselves. Their sexual organs are often brighter than the other parts of their body. Very pretty too look at and also a bit on the hairy side.

Aquarius rising men: In my experience? They can seem really standoffish and for a good reason. They tend not to like ignorance and the more they see you trying hard to relate to them the less they’ll acknowledge you. They like the idea of someone who is down for them but not the idea of someone who is groveling, don’t and I mean don’t by any means act like a fan. They tend to run hot and cold for ever even if they like you. Sexually they can be meticulously planning the whole thing. The meet up, the positions, the foreplay all of it. They tend to need warnining or to know both parties had time to clean up. They’re not ones for sex on the fly or random sex as it can lead to a lot of unnecessary accidents. They’re attentive and very much the types to make you feel like you’re clay and you’re being sculpted into something magnificent. Their amazing at sex, they are like gallileo, or Mozart when it comes to the act. They move around your body like a serpent, then a leaf in the wind, than rain touching your skin. They are more focused on your pleasure than theirs so orgasms/reaching climax can be tough for them. The sexual organs are pretty small or average in most cases. If mars/Jupiter or Neptune/Uranus is there that augments things.

Pisces rising men: In my experience? They are definitely ass men. Everything revolves around booty. They are definitely soft and very sweet, but they have a sweetness to them that is fake. The real them is far more serious and self aware then they give off. They know what they’re doing and they know what you’re doing, so don’t ever be fooled by the veil they put up. They’re incredible receptive and sensitive and a lot of their internal feelings come out at some point just not at the moment it needs to. Sexually they can very hotel sex types. Like I don’t know how to really explain it and it’s so opposite of what you would expect of libra but they are very impersonal people. Like sex can feel very romantic and as if they are treating you like a significant other but something about it is detached, far away and unavailable. They are good at creating the engagement aspect of sex but can fall short at the emotional part which is semi-strange considering what you’ll get up to that point. They are very experienced but at the same time they may need to be taught to connect a little deeper or to open up more. They have very soft and gentle sexual styles that will still make you feel cared for but sometimes in the back of it all you’ll still feel that “I’m fucking a stranger” vibe. Their sexual organs tend to be very beautiful, nice length and nice width. They’ll definitely be a lot better at the sex part once you guys are committed though.

So obviously this is a general word of mouth and does not take into account planets being in the 8th house nor does it mention decans which can greatly alter much of what I’ve said. And honestly you can apply the decan rule here if you’d like! Simply use the decan lord so if they’re a third decan Virgo rising and have Aries in the third decan in their 8th house which is Aries/Sagittarius: you would mix those interpretations. Anyways hope this helps love.

#mine #8th house #sex astrology

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

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Victor’s Aura- A Character Aura Study

This post is my take on Victor’s aura, taken from my knowledge and intuition to depict what kind of aura he has! I did one on Gavin, as well as Gavin’s astrological birth chart so if you haven’t seen them, you can read them after this post!

What is an Aura? “Aura” by the dictionary is “the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person, thing, or place”.

It’s essentially the electromagnetic energy field that surrounds all living things. It’s the magnetic field of vibration like how a lighted candle is lit and how a scent or perfume surrounds a flower. In fact, it’s correctly described as an extension of the body. It’s a part of every cell. Your aura can be affected by anything, including traumas, memories and emotions. It can tell us a lot about a person’s mental, physical, emotional state, vitality and path of life. Habitual thoughts, emotions and even illnesses can be clearly revealed. If a person changes their long standing thoughts and emotions, the aura will too reflect that.

Victor’s Aura There are many layers to the aura but let’s start off with the “ground” colour. This is the main colour that dominates the aura both in size and intensity. It’s arguably the most important colour as it shows what the person should be doing in their life.

Victor’s main ground colour is dark yellow (keep in mind this is not defined as “murky”- when someone is lost and muddled in their life). People with dark yellow as their ground are confident, well adjusted and analytical. As a result, they take life one step at a time, one goal at a time, ensuring every project is seen through properly to completion to avoid problems and setbacks later. They are patient people, setting their worthwhile goals in no hurry to reach them, as they know without a doubt that they will obtain their deserved reward in the end. They prefer to do things rationally and in a logical manner, especially at work where they are required to make use of their good memory and love for detail. As they are ambitious and persistent, they often take up roles of leadership, responsibility and of importance. From his corrections on MC’s reports to the food he makes at Souvenir (that is insisted to be cooked according to certain temperatures), Victor is no doubt a detail-oriented leader even whether if the goal he wants to achieve is related to work or not.

MC: It’s a sort of mark that can be left in literature or in a photograph… and I can feel it. Victor’s eyes are lowered. In his clear and tranquil eyes, there are ripples of light and shadows. Victor: Such as? The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is clear, and I ponder this seriously. MC: For example, the way I write proposals has changed. The format of my proposals has changed. The indent of the first line, font size 15, 1.5 spacing between lines… it’s the format you find most pleasing to the eye! Victor’s eyebrow quirks. Victor: That’s all? MC: There’s more! I’ve become so much more picky with food. I never used to complain that food tastes bad, but eating at Souvenir has cultivated my palate. Now, when I eat even Michelin meals, I feel as if something’s lacking… -CN Exhibition Date

“What happened with SE is just an example. We’re from different businesses and different fields. There’s no need to compare yourself with me. Also, I’m older than you. When you’ve reached my age, you might attain the achievements I have today.” -CN Night Meeting Date

“Slow and steady wins the race” is the moral that they live by, but sometimes adhering to this credo may frustrate others as they can be so analytical and detail oriented at times- usually at great lengths. A cute little add from the Tender Regards Date around the concept of snail mail, time (Victor’s evol!) and the goal of always reaching your destination in the end demonstrate this this motif in Victor’s relationship with MC.

“Looks like you should have received this Future Mail. Apart from supporting your event, I’m only going to do this once. This will not be repeated. The things I want to say to you are all in this videotape. It only belongs to you.” -CN Tender Regards Date

“When will you finally understand? It’s all right. I’m patient. I’ll wait for you to see the light slowly.” -Rooftop Date

Although they have feelings, they only ever reveal it to people close to them. They enjoy the detail and technicality of conversations and find it hard to talk about their emotions. Victor’s Exhibition and Tender Regards Date are very useful sources of information in relation to these topics, as it displays Victor’s deep emotions of affection to MC and highlights the importance of expressing emotions to those you love. Dark yellow aura peoples’ greatest lesson in life is to be more emotionally open, and when do they do, it usually occurs later in life.

“The writer wrote it down herself - “The time I spent loving someone, not a single second of it was wasted.” I rarely hear such words leave Victor’s mouth, and it makes me feel a little surreal. In my memory, we very rarely talk about the topic of ‘love’. Maybe it’s because he rarely says what’s in his heart. Maybe it’s because I’m used to being thick-skinned. We never have the opportunity to seriously understand the meaning in these words. -CN Exhibition Date

“Do you still remember the special episode on “Feelings” from before? Actually, this theme was inspired by that episode. Giving gifts is a common way to express how one feels. But it’s not that easy to send a gift to the future. With Future Mail, the sender can convey their feelings and surprises in this gift to the other party across time.” -CN Tender Regards date

People with dark yellow as their ground enjoy system and order such as routines at work and in their home life. This is applied to Victor’s strict schedules in his day to day life, such as taking on what time he sleeps and when he gets up to go on his morning jogs. They need to consider new ideas before grudgingly accepting them. This is especially applied to when Victor always says “just this once” to MC when he’s being “childish” with her (but we really know that isn’t the case, he knows this all too well, too).

“Because a certain greedy cat always says she wants to eat something sweet after dinner, I made pudding before leaving the house. Do you think this is a mark of how I’ve been changed?” -CN Exhibition Date

Next is Victor’s “radiating” colour. This represents his interests and motivations. It adds strength to the ground colour. They can work well in harmony, some can conflict.

I would take Victor’s radiating as violet. Violet is a very highly spiritual colour, as people with this colour as their radiating will have a very spiritual take on life, as they are deep thinkers who like to analyse everything and think matters though logically. They are also naturally intuitive. Violet radiatings have the ability to come up with unique and unusual solutions to problems. As they enjoy learning, they have the potential to become experts in their field of endeavour- which is no surprise for Victor as he’s basically an “on top of the world tyrant” in the industry of finances. In addition, they feel things deeply, but rather operate things on an emotionally free level- again with the ground aura traits to enhance this! However, Victor too, has a high EQ despite this.

“I’m no different from you. There are many things I cannot do or force to make happen. It’s okay to not be strong, it’s okay to not do well. You don’t have to bottle up your emotions.” … “I won’t tell you to keep holding on no matter what difficulties you face. That isn’t realistic. There will come a time when you will become an even better version of yourself who will have enough courage and experience to deal with all of this.” -CN Colours of Rain Date

Overall, Victor’s aura of darker yellow and violet depict him as more of a straightforward kind of person, hardworking and articulate, however soon we realise there’s more to what we see of Victor, like how MC thinks that Victor comes off as a “heartless CEO” throughout the main story chapters but he slowly warms up to her whilst determining to prove her wrong. Victor is wise, and doesn’t bother to put in his personal efforts to where it’s not needed, but when it’s up to him- he strives to go all the way for perfection and with the best of his ability. He spends a lot of time in deep contemplation to determine his plans of attack which allows him to execute them well. His values and worth ethics will always in the end allow him to make time for MC, no matter how busy he is :)

And lastly…

Victor leans against the window, his face still written with distaste, but he does not attempt to remove that childish-looking blanket. He brings the red cup to his lips and gently blows on it. The warm light encases him, softening the aura surrounding him. His outline also appears gentler. He doesn’t look as impossible to get close to. My eyes land on Victor, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He puts down the cup in his hands, lowering his eyes, as though deep in thought. This is a Victor I have never seen before… In this moment, he seems to have put down his stubbornness and distant aura - becoming someone within reach. Only now does Victor finally feel my gaze. He raises his head to look at me. -CN Warm Date

All of a sudden, he lifts his other hand gently. A water droplet pelts onto his palm, as though pulling him into the pattering rain. Seeing this, I find myself subconsciously frozen in place. Because of the enshrouding misty rain, the Victor before me appears warmer and more tender than usual. -CN Tender Regards Date

It always has and always will be MC to see this side of him- the tenderness and the willingness of how he opens up to her- his aura willingly to embrace hers too. Fun fact- auras can deflect off one another if you’re with someone you dislike. But when it’s with two people in love, their auras connect, combine and produce an even brighter and bigger accommodating aura for the both of them. He’s certainly living working towards to achieve his greatest life goals- both in his businesses and being with MC, striving together to make great changes and milestones in their respective industries. Without a doubt, she has helped Victor’s aura grow, expand and shine the many rays through his doubts, allowing a light from within to burn brighter and evolve him into more of the brilliant, hardworking and tender man we know today.

#victor #li zeyan #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc victor #恋与制作人 #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc en #aura reading #aura

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hupomoneblogs · 3 years

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Shifting the Struggle Perspective

Life is hard. This week has been hard. I started my last year of college, so I was already entering this week with so many emotions, but I have been struggling physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. I am not sure if anyone feels like this, but sometimes I find it difficult, as a Christian, to ask for help or to admit when I am struggling. Why is this? Well, from my personal experience it seems like we have painted the Christian life to be this picture-perfect lifestyle. It's as if you cast all your worries and cares onto Jesus and you no longer have any more worries or cares for the rest of your days. There is also the narrative that if you are struggling as a believer then it is your fault because it means you are not trusting God enough. This is the narrative I have often believed. Here is my perspective: It is okay to struggle. I think that the beautiful thing about struggling is that it is a humbling experience. Why? Because it allows God to shine bright and big in my life. Yes, as His daughter He does already shine bright and big in my life, but because I still wrestle with sin sometimes I get off track and try to make myself the focus rather than Him. But when I’m struggling my faith says, “Okay God, this sucks and I really cannot seem to find a way out, please help me.” and my God being the strong and omnipotent God He is, comes down and rescues me from whatever has a hold of me fulfilling everything that Zephaniah 3:17 declares about God, “The Lord your God is among you, a warrior who saves. He will rejoice over you with gladness. He will delight in you with singing.” But what about the moments when it doesn’t seem like we are being rescued right away? Here is my honest opinion: I think it is okay to sit in the mundane with Jesus. I think it is okay to wrestle with God in the hard things. When I say ‘wrestle’ with God I don’t mean hating Him with every fiber of your being, what I mean is being open and honest with Him that this struggle or trial is hard, confusing, or frustrating. This is a common practice of mine. Of sitting with God and just telling Him everything that is on my mind and giving Him room to speak. Believe me, He wants to listen and He wants to speak into your life, situation, current circumstances, etc. However, in these quiet moments, the pain or struggle doesn’t always dissipate right away, but I do have a lot more peace leaving that time than I did when I entered. This is what I think shifting our perspective on struggling is all about. It’s about realizing that the pain will not always go away immediately, but even in the midst of it our God will never leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8 NIV). Now hear me out, I know that some of you may be reading this and think, “Well He’s God why can He not take the pain away?”, well He definitely can! “For nothing will be impossible with God!” (Luke 1:37). But I would like to submit one of my thoughts to you: I think if God took all of our pain away immediately every single time we asked Him to, I think we would fall into a habit of greed and just keep wanting more and more and more from Him and no life lessons would be learned. I think we would appreciate Him less and less because He would just continue to give us what we wanted when we wanted it. However, if we suffer in our pain while clinging to the Lord when we come out of the pain we can look behind us and see all of the purpose the pain, heartache, and suffering created. Jesus never promised that we would never suffer. He tells us clearly that we are going to struggle, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33 NIV). Jesus overcame the world by sacrificing Himself and taking on all of the pain and suffering we deserved by dying on the cross. When He was buried all of our sins were buried with Him in the grave and when He rose from the dead on the third day He walked out victoriously and every dark thing was left behind in the grave. Those who are in Christ will

always walk victoriously. Because we walk victoriously in Jesus Christ we can,”..glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. Because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5, NIV). So walk with Him amid your pain, struggle, trial, or whatever else. Because there is no one, absolutely no one that understands your pain and your suffering more than Jesus Himself.

#the strugge is real #struggle bus #faith #perseverance #victory #victory in jesus #christianity

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autumnblogs · 3 years

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Day 50: Trickster Shenanigans

Getting an early start today, because I want to do some catch-up for the last few missed days, so we’ll see if I can get to the end of Disc 2 today.

https://homestuck.com/story/5714

So if we view a lot of the beats in the Alpha Kids’ story as corresponding to beats in the Beta Kids’ story, and Jane as a character who is emotionally parallel to Rose in a lot of ways, Trickster Mode basically represents the same emotional beat for her as Grimdark Mode did for Rose. Jane is at her emotional nadir here, thinking that her Dad is dead, and alienated from all of her friends.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/5730

I think what is so unsettling about the Tricksters is the way in which all of their actual personality traits are overridden - they’re just happy. They make us question the nature of happiness in general, because their happiness is artificial, it overshadows their actual selves - all of the things about them that make them who they are - and makes them bombastically enthusiastic about things as they are, while giving them borderline absolute power to warp reality and give them something TO be happy about.

Their recovery from trickster mode, and Andrew’s narration makes it clear that Trickster Mode is not good for humans, because like a sugar rush, it just provides temporary relief from the genuine emotional problems that the literal material problems of Sburb parallel. Solving the material problems is not a proxy for solving the emotional problems, and progressing through the plot at hyperspeed without doing any of the actual emotional work ultimately leaves the kids’ development stunted, and unprepared for what comes next.

The happiness is fake - the euphoria is a real sensation that they’re experiencing, but it’s provoked externally, it’s a cheat. This whole episode has tones of substance abuse, but I think that what it’s ultimately about on the whole is wish fulfillment as a coping mechanism, as the Alpha Kids ignore their actual problems and escape into a fantasy where they just don’t have any.

https://homestuck.com/story/5757

Dirk’s response to all these shenanigans is kind of... complicated. Like, he’s right that this isn’t solving anything, but his reaction is less about actually wanting to solve his problems in a constructive way, and more I think that Dirk doesn’t want to not be miserable. Maybe on an intellectual level, he gives assent to the fact that it would be good to make progress and change as a person, but emotionally, Dirk can’t let go of the idea of himself as a static person who just is a certain way, and has to be who he is. Changing would mean ceasing to exist. The person who is Dirk is miserable, but he’s too terrified to be anything else.

https://homestuck.com/story/5759

Even as miserable as all this is, it’s kind of cathartic to see Dirk break free from his own aloofness and experience some kind of emotion, even if it’s just anger. This is one of those times where I’m not actually entirely clear how I feel about a story development.

On the one hand, Dirk’s emotions about the whole situation are real, and valid, but like... I’m not sure if he’s right to make those emotional demands of Jake. And I’m pretty sure he’s not. By all accounts, Dirk has been a possessive, physically abusive boyfriend to Jake, if we take into account the fact that their rough-housing is pretty one-sided if the Brobot’s conduct is anything to help us understand.

But I still feel sympathetic toward Dirk, and I guess what makes me feel that way is that he’s being emotionally honest for once in his life, and the emotion that he’s being honest about is pain. I have a hard time not feeling pity for people who are in pain, even if that pain is largely self-inflicted.

https://homestuck.com/story/5778

The language here very directly compares the trickster situation to the Grimdark situation, so I guess I was either remembering that, or just spot on.

https://homestuck.com/5796

Dirk and Jane are both over Jake at this point, and there’s an extent to which they are both legitimately over him, and for good reason. Even as a friend, Jake’s not really willing to do any emotional labor whatsoever.

On the other hand, I think they both realize, to some extent, that they’ve been making unfair emotional demands of Jake, based on the chagrin that they feel in terms of the way they’ve been behaving toward him.

https://homestuck.com/5798

Yup. That is exactly what they’re feeling.

I think the answer to who is in the wrong is this situation is; pretty much everyone.

Roxy probably the least; she is luckily pretty divorced from these emotional shenanigans. I’m sure we could find something to blame Roxy for, but I don’t really feel like it - she’s only a part of this love triangle tangentially, and the main thing that she’s been doing is going against her nature as a Rogue of Void by keeping everyone’s secrets from each other.

They dragged her into it to, and made her a part of it. So maybe if we can blame Roxy for anything, it’s not speaking out about how terrible and unhealthy this whole situation is before things got this bad, after she helped push Jake into a relationship with one of her other best friends? But even that feels like a stretch.

https://homestuck.com/5802

Ah yup, there we go, not only did Roxy fall off the wagon, she started sexually harassing Dirk again.

There’s what I was missing. I was so busy focusing on the Jake English Love Triangle that I forgot about that.

While it should be pretty obvious without stating it, this little sequence is just another continuation and exploration of the theme of alienation that the whole comic is about - the impossibility of human unmediated communication because of the way that exposing our true selves makes us vulnerable to pain.

The emotional effort they have to make to talk to each other is too great.

They are not strong enough.

https://homestuck.com/5819

I wish I had more to say commentary-ways, but everyone here is being pretty emotionally honest! There’s not a lot of motive-sensing necessary when everyone is just laying their cards on the table.

https://homestuck.com/5858

Parallel to the way all of the other kids so far have had their ascension to Godhood arranged, nefarious actors intercede to kill them without any action on their part; and the way that Caliborn arranges for this through Lil Cal, juxtaposed with the imagery of the Trickster Lollipop in his eyes suggests to me that if we fully decode this sequence of events for meaning, it’s an exposition on the theme we got the first time around we were dealing with the God Tiers;

We might call the God Tier principle this; There is no spiritual significance to seeking, acquiring, or having power; it is as easy or easier for the spiritually deaf and blind to acquire power as it is for the awakened.

And we might call the Trickster Corollary this; Wish fulfillment fantasy is the attempt to unify spiritual significance with the power of action, and is false storytelling.

https://homestuck.com/story/5926

I think that this is actually a pretty fine plae to stop. I really powered through around 200 pages without having a whole lot to say, in no small part because the Trickster “arc” if it can be called that really stops being so cagey and ironic for a while to actually just be refreshingly emotional candid. There’s a bit to unpack from the conversations that the characters have with one another, but the long and short of this fallout is that the characters have all failed to not only be supportive of each other, but to even be supportive of themselves.

The Alpha Kids can’t figure out how to love each other, because they don’t love themselves.

Cam signing off early! I might try to do this stuff earlier in the day more like this, since I’m feeling mentally invigorated and ready for work now at the end of my session, instead of worn out from trying to juggle work and hobbies.

For now, Cam signing off, Alive, and with a Cat in my lap.

#commentary #liveblogging

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lizzieraindrops · 4 years

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Your chance to make the sun rise thrice (Chapter 3)

that a garden will grow (11,143 words)

"There are no happy endings, because nothing ends." - The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle That does not mean that there is no joy.

Veera is alive.

Also on AO3 | Playlist soundtrack | Aesthetic sideblog

Happy autumn equinox, everyone.

When I started this story as a oneshot back in 2016, I had no idea that it would turn into a series spanning four years of new life for these characters, much less that it would end up taking me nearly the same amount of time to write it.

I wrote the first part during the darkest yet time of my life as an abstract fantasy of being in a better place. I finish writing it today from a better place, physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. If I've learned anything from this, it's that your own creativity saves you and is powerful enough to call the better things that seem so impossible into existence.

This is my tribute to Veera as a character and everyone like her and anyone who has identified with her. She changed my life. Even with all OB's many, many flaws (dear god there are SO many), without the explicit representation of Veera's neurodivergence in the Helsinki comics, I don't know how I would have figured out that I'm autistic. That has been both the biggest hurdle and the greatest blessing in the trajectory of my healing. Since it's been so central to this story and its writing, I've included a link to some resources for autism spectrum self-diagnosis.

Part 1: Herbs on the windowsill

Part 2: Someday colors

Part 3: Your chance to make the sun rise thrice | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

***

Veera wakes gently, early, unexpectedly so. As she sits up, her weighted blanket slips off and crumples around her waist like a shed skin. Bands of muted morning coming through the blinds slide over her as she rises from the plane of the bed. The summer sun has still risen first, of course. True dark never falls here in the summer, at this high a latitude. But right now, its light is softened and diffused by a thin veil of cloud over the city. Listening, the others aren’t up and moving yet.

Slight shifting of her relaxed limbs makes the softness of the sheets into an extravagance. She’s in a rare, delicately balanced state, one where her senses have sharpened just enough to turn ordinary sensations exquisite without overwhelming her. She’ll have to spend some time listening to music – and with Niki and Beth. That was the plan anyway. But the others aren’t up yet.

Today, there’s a restlessness in her. Most days, she gets up slow, simply waiting until her body is ready to go about the day. Yet a quiet kind of discomfort has made a home in her core, nudging her to get moving. The feel of it is neither full nor hollow, not exactly painful yet nothing like comfort. It’s just there, a subdued directionless yearning.

But her mind needs to go at its own pace waking up. Inertia drags at her when she tries to move too fast or cut corners in her daily ritual. Subtle distress quickly follows that inertia if she tries to press the issue. It shows in the incrementally increasing fine tension of her muscles, slowly winding her up like clockwork. So she sits with the feeling. Motionless except for her breath in the middle of her bed, she thinks.

Light. Leaves. Home. Hunger. She should eat soon. They’re out of cereal, though. There’s a farmer’s market a few blocks away that should have fresh summer fruit. She could go. She does, sometimes, early in the morning like now, before Niki wakes up, and just wanders around. As long as she keeps it short and doesn’t talk much, she should be able to manage it without giving herself a headache.

Twenty minutes find her feet traversing muted pink granite. Neat rectangular stone cobbles pave the street below her living room window. The rumble of a loud truck passing right by close makes her flinch, but she manages to shake the discomfort out of her neck and shoulders easily enough once it’s gone. Other than that, the streets are unusually peaceful. Most people like get out of the city this close to midsummer.

She steps lightly over the stone in snugly laced canvas shoes, toes touching down first. There’s some sort of bird hidden in the trees lining the street, singing two repeated notes on a slow loop. A flycatcher, she thinks.

Being in motion somewhat soothes her restlessness as she slips through broad swathes of clouded morning light between the shadows of buildings. The persistent sensation is nothing so strident as the hypervigilance that used to keep her so high strung. But its subtle company has been constant, lately. She can tell she’s internally processing something, but she can’t quite pin it down. Maybe that’s why she’s been waking up so much earlier than normal.

Lately, a strangeness has been gently tugging at the edges of her mind. In part, she knows it’s a growing awareness of how much things have changed since four years ago. It’s happened so gradually. It was nigh invisible until she cast far enough back along the path of her own footsteps to see how far she’s come. She almost died, but she didn’t. She’s no longer in a desperate race to survive. Now, she’s alive. The question of who and what she is now is an unnervingly open one.

These days, she wakes within a body that is soft and scarred. She is both a wounded creature walking this world with strange steps and a thing healing yet already whole. More often than not, she finds her shoulders loose and her chest open, instead of curled tight into a semblance of stone. They can still seize up when her fears circle back around to worry at invisible scars. But it’s not an endless anxious state. It isn’t everything she is anymore.

Likewise, her nightmares don’t spend as many nights haunting her. Weeks pass between them, sometimes. When they do steal back to the surface of her psyche, the quiet fear they stir up saps all her energy and trails lazily through the daylight hours like an oilslick. She spends those days baking something sweet in the apartment’s warmly lit kitchen. Or she takes inventory of the shapes and textures of the leaves that hang suspended in the air of every familiar room.

It helps, even if dreams or memories linger smoldering in the back of her mind the whole time. The sensations and sense of space keep her grounded, both within herself and outside of the fickle fear and pain that flares and fades and keeps returning. Of course, nothing is so immediately comforting as the presence – and, in this searingly ephemeral moment, presences – that remind her she is not alone. But even when they aren’t there, the space itself reminds her that she lives with and in this place she’s chosen to call a home.

The apartment is the first home she can remember that feels the way she suspects one is supposed to. It fits around her, small and enclosed enough to know every inch without uncertainty scratching at the bounds of her awareness. Tucked away up on the third floor, it nests in a quiet old brick building that’s as comfortably worn in as her favorite hoodie. Its wide windows spread big and bright in every room, reminding her to breathe freely. She is no longer a creature caged. Shadows are soft in this place, and the sunlight is as much a part of it as the walls. Its radiant forms lance through glass and smile through aches, never failing to wrap her in warmth.

Leaves unfurl gently in every window. She likes to run the living silken or waxy greenness of purposeful growth between her fingertips. Perhaps their green faces are outnumbered by all the strangely familiar human ones in the photos along the whitewashed walls, marking where friendships have germinated. But then again, perhaps not. It’s a close call, and there’s always more of both growing. They’re still something of a miracle to her, after so long alone.

Low murmurs of outdoor conversation bring her back to the pop-up stalls of the market hovering just ahead. She’s there.

There are somewhat fewer visitors than normal, but the market still appears to be proceeding about business as usual. Early on, this Saturday market tends to be quieter than the Sunday one, not quite as full of people. It's that perfect balance of un-crowded enough that she can keep to her own internal world without interruption, but bustling enough that she doesn't stand out. She's just another woman at the market. Once in a while, gazes will slide over the scars on her cheek, or her upper arm if she’s wearing short sleeves (not her leg or ankle, as she never wears anything except pants). Her skin begins to remember to crawl - but then the eyes keep on sliding past, on to the peppers or the green beans or the fresh cut flowers.

Weaving her way into the dispersed crowd, she heads for the egg stand first, just in case they run out. They often do. With a dozen blue and brown eggs in tow, she roves about until she finds a stand with peaches she can smell from several paces away. Their sweet tang fills the air as she picks them out. She also gets some fresh apricots, brushing her fingertips over their velvety little coats of fuzz. She tucks the stonefruit and eggs safely into the backpack she brought and keeps moving. A yeasty oaf of fresh bread for picnicking later joins them. The rounded tip of the long loaf pokes out the top of the zippered pocket, hovering just behind her ear. She leaves the top of its paper wrapper open so it stays crisp.

Live music rolling out from the street corner captures her, pulling her out of her trajectory mid-stride to swing toward the unadorned sidewalk stage. The resonance of shimmering metal strings and singing wood flows over her and through her, and she simply sways with it, part of it. It sparkles over her skin and hums along her bones, making her flutter her fingers in pleasure, and it’s blissful. After everything she’s been through, the long gauntlet of near misses and fires and nightmare flames, it still seems wrong somehow for things to be this okay, to feel this good.

That’s why, when visceral self-consciousness swoops down on her again without warning, its familiar fear is as much something like relief as it is a thorn in an old wound. Nothing even causes it, really: just a stray passing glance from a stranger that slid over her hands instead of her scars and didn’t even linger. But it makes her remember the oddness of the ways her hands move, when she’s happy, when she’s stressed. It makes her stand out if she doesn’t make the effort to hide them – or if she takes a little too long to think in a conversation – or if she lets on that she can be hurt so easily by the smallest, normally inconsequential things.

In more dangerous times, standing out could have ended very badly for her. The feeling of being hunted might have retreated to the back of her mind, but it has never truly left. In moments like this, she still snaps back into old habits. Her fists clench into stillness, her mind into sharp wariness, her whole self into the ache of immobility except for consciously calculated movements. It’s not quite the old full-body taut-wire tension of terror. Nonetheless, it’s a painful tender twisting inside, pulling things skewed and wrong in her chest.

The thing is, she knows she’s one of the lucky ones. For so many people, the fear never gets to recede at all. Either the danger remains ever-present in the casual cruelties of the world, or their wounds never get the care they need to heal. Not everyone can be set free by toppling a single old castle of corruption into the sea. Veera gets to try to heal, as impossibly hard as it is and always will be. She has support to fall back on now, kind hearts that hear her, arms that will hold her when she hurts. Though they’re rare, she has days where she doesn’t feel like she has to hide at all. It’s so strange. Even before the Helsinki fire, she spent so long becoming acquainted with the wariness of attracting too much attention. She’s still trying to understand who she even is if she’s not hiding.

That’s why she’s doing the work she does with CYGNet. They’re all muddling their way toward healing from their one-off odd brand of hurt, but the support system they’re building could be useful for so much more. In her mind, they’re just the beginning. One day, maybe they can expand to help even more people beyond the Leda project. The Beths with different faces but surviving the same family history. The Nikis with different nightmares but recovering from the same betrayal. The Veeras with different scars who are just as overwhelmed by the everyday world, but deserve just as much of a chance to experience it without having to hide their truth in shame and become someone they’re not.

Well. Maybe one day. For now, one thing at a time. She has to take care of herself and her own healing if she’s going to make any progress down that distant path. Sometimes, the path she’s on right now still seems to stretch so much further ahead than she can fathom.

Eyes closed, Veera takes a breath into her tense stillness. To her own fragile heart, she whispers, It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. She breathes; it passes.

Giving herself a few minutes more to listen to the music, she waits until the grip of physical memory lessens. The sound is still lovely, even if she can’t quite fall back into the two-piece symphony the way she did mere moments ago. She calms further as she carries herself onward again down the tent-lined street. Under the surface, though, in the same hollow where her restlessness lives, her heart remains sore where something still won’t settle into place.

Fortunately, there are other good things at the market that help soothe the ache. Even for someone like her who needs to limit her exposure to overstimulation and crowds, they make it worth braving all the bustle now and again.

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth at the sight of a profusion of green fronds leaning out from beneath the awning of the stand up ahead. It's bursting with foliage in more shades of green than she knew existed, and chock full of rows of those knobbly little succulents she loves so much. The vendor is a quiet man with a ponytail and a kind face. He merely smiles at her whenever she comes by. He’s one of those strangers who are friends by the shared appreciation of silence. Sometimes words get in the way.

He nods at her in recognition as she ducks into the stand to avoid a loud group of shoppers. Though there are people in there, something about the vendor and the greenery keeps things calm. The tiny forest is an island in the flow of people. It’s nearly on the opposite end of the market from where she started, and it always provides a brief respite where she can recover a little before heading back. Besides, she likes to look over the lacy ferns and trailing philodendrons and all the tiny succulents in every color of the rainbow, even if she already has too many.

She still leaves most of the houseplants to Niki to look after. But to her own surprise, she’s quite good at taking care of the succulents. For the most part, she leaves them somewhere sunny and ignores them. They love it. Sometimes they even treat her to little shiny-papery flowers in brilliant pink or yellow.

Ranks of mini succulents line one of stall’s tables. She’s barely skimming her fingers over the surfaces of a row of flat, stone-like lithops when she sees it. One of the tiny pots is filled with what appear to be little green spheres like peas. Looking closer, they’re round, succulent leaves attached to thin trailing stems. Sprouting from the end of one string of them is a long, spindly stem curving up to a closed flower bud that bobs in the breeze. She’s never seen anything like it.

The man running the stand notices her looking at it. Veera points at the plant and tilts her head in a question. He smiles and extracts a sheet of paper for her from a messy pile half tucked under the cash box. Its a care sheet for Senecio rowleyanus, or string of pearls.

Veera did promise Niki she’d stop bringing home so many succulents. But the plant man’s pressing the little pot of pearls into her hands, waving her wide eyes away with a smile when she reaches for her wallet. This one will have to be an exception. Her small smile and wave of thanks receive another nod in acknowledgement and farewell. Cupping the pot in both hands, she ventures back into the mid-morning river of people to take herself home.

On the way back down the street, the plant cradled against her chest draws smiles from the crowd. They often transfer to her as well. Something about the green thing in her arms softens people’s expressions, even when they see her scars. It makes it easier to walk softly, and to carry her dull ache of residual fear just as gently.

As if struck, she stumbles when she remembers that today, she gets to go home to her two best friends in the entire world. The ache that knowledge calls forth is just as arresting as the kind that comes with the clinging oilslick fear, yet different. This is far stronger and far sweeter, its truth a soft clarity. Veera clutches her plant close to her chest with one hand as she catches her balance on a fruit-covered table with the other. A handful of little oranges roll off as she bumps into it.

Stammering apologies, Veera scrambles to gather up the fallen fruit. A nearby woman browsing the citrus in a purple sweater kneels down to help her. Veera wasn’t planning on buying mandarins, but she can hardly knock them all over the ground and run off. She hopes she has enough cash left. Straightening up, she looks for somewhere to sit the fruit down so she can check her wallet.

But the woman in the sweater holds her hands out for them. She’s already put the ones she picked up in a canvas bag.

“I’ll take them,” she says. “I was gonna buy some anyway.” Her sweater is a few shades bluer than the warm purple of Veera’s own hoodie.

Veera blinks at her. “Are – are you sure?” She holds out one of the mandarins, showing its dented skin, fragrant with released citrus oils.

The woman gives her a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll eat that one first.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Veera delicately hands three more mandarins over. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t worry about it.” The woman’s voice is like her smile: small but kind.

Veera whispers her thanks again, then hurries home before she can be waylaid by any more painfully kind gestures from strangers.

***

Veera’s so relieved to walk through her own door into the kitchen that she doesn’t realize someone’s in the living room, not until she hears a soft sob. Her head snaps up. Niki’s on the couch with her face in her hands and Beth next to her with an arm around her. Alarmed, Veera drops her bag on the kitchen counter and begins to make a beeline for her. But she hesitates. She’s used to offering Niki comfort whenever she can, but is she interrupting?

Too late. Beth makes a small sound of surprise when she notices Veera hovering halfway into the room. Niki looks up too, but she wipes her eyes and gives Veera a watery smile. It’s okay.

Niki holds a hand out as Veera makes her way over to the couch. Gladly, Veera takes it. As Veera stands there before the scruffy secondhand sofa in the hazy light from the window, the three of them are briefly an interlinked chain. Beth watches the other two with soft, understanding eyes, her arm steady over Niki’s shoulders.

Niki heaves a shaky sigh. Then she gives Beth’s knee a thankful squeeze and uses Veera’s hand to lever herself up to standing. She briefly embraces Veera, who returns the gesture. “I’m okay,” Niki whispers. Veera nods. Then Niki slips away into the kitchen and starts bustling around, half-seen behind the half-wall that divides it into an alcove off the main room. Presumably, she’s taking a moment to collect herself while unpacking Veera’s groceries. She does that. Niki doesn’t mind if Veera sees her cry – or Beth, apparently. But she always takes a moment alone afterward to put herself back together.

Veera shakes her head to clear away the traces of her second unexpected fright of the morning. In its wake, the empty spot on the couch is too inviting.

She flops onto the cushions next to Beth with a sigh and goes limp. Maybe going to the market was a little too ambitious for today. She’s already had too much excitement this week with Beth visiting, and she hasn’t slept well because of it, which only saps more of her limited energy. Even good things can be so exhausting. She knows she needs to get more rest than most people do, especially when there’s so much happening. But that’s so hard to remember when she knows that this moment is such a rare blessing. Both of her most important people are right here with her right now. It’s so hard to not throw herself completely into every possible joy she can have, in this transcendent sliver of time.

She rolls her head where it rests against the back of the couch to look at Beth sideways. “I got breakfast,” she offers.

“Looks like you wiped yourself out doing it.” Beth leans against the arm of the sofa to look at her. “Morning.�� Her own tired eyes twinkle.

Veera smiles. She tries to fix this moment into memory: the wisps of Beth’s unbrushed hair catching the light, the wooden clatter of Niki opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Veera asks.

Beth runs a hand through her hair. “Yeah. We were just talking, about,” she waves a hand around, encompassing all the faces in all the photos on the walls, “everything. We’re so different. But some of the stuff, it’s the same. The things we’re all going through. You know?”

Veera does.

The kitchen clatter intensifies as Niki starts moving pots and pans around and clinking them down on the stovetop.

“How many eggs do you want?” Niki calls, voice more steady now. When Veera and Beth come over to investigate, she’s already got a skillet out and is debating with herself whether to start a pot of porridge, too. Veera’s always in favor of porridge no matter what, and Beth’s never had proper Finnish porridge before, so that settles that.

Niki starts scooping the mixed grains into the pan without measuring, like normal. She fills it with an unknown amount of water from the sink with some arcane skill of estimation that Veera has never understood. It always turns out fine. As Beth gets to work slicing some of the fresh fruit, Veera sidles up to Niki and lays a light hand on her arm.

Niki meets her questioning eyes. “I’m okay,” she says again. But she leans into Veera’s touch and stays there. Veera says nothing, just strokes a thumb over Niki’s shoulder and holds the space. Oats and rice swirl in the saucepan as Niki stirs them into the water with a wooden spoon.

“I was talking to her about what happened with Aleks, and mum and dad.” Niki’s voice goes soft, but not hushed. Her words aren’t directed at Beth at the other counter, but they’re not hidden from her, either. “How it made it so hard to trust anyone anymore. Especially Suvi, ‘cause she was there before. And you know how that gets me all... ugh.” She twiddles her wooden spoon in the air. Then she leans even more into Veera, into the arm that curls around her in half an embrace. To think, that Veera is someone who offers such gestures now with hardly a hesitant thought.

“She just gets it, you know?” Niki continues. “Not that you don’t, but it’s different. Like, you understand about how people are always expecting things from you. People see what they wanna see, and only take you seriously if you play along with it. It’s so frustrating. And it’s bullshit! I’ve never met anyone who understands that better than you.” She stirs the porridge again.

“And Beth... she was telling me some about her dad. She knows about having someone close to you just pull the whole rug out from under your world.” Niki pauses her stirring, and looks at Veera. “I’ve always been amazed, how you just landed on your feet and hit the ground running, when you found out. I couldn’t have done that, if I was alone.”

Veera shrugs, incidentally squeezing Niki sideways. “I never was very close with Matti.”

Watching her, Niki’s face falls a little. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you that way. But I wish... I don’t know. I wish you’d had someone who was there for you, then. Everyone deserves that.”

“Huh.” Veera blinks. “I’d never thought of it that way.”

Arms suddenly wrap tight around her middle, a face tucked into the crook of her neck and shoulders. The handle end of a wooden spoon presses into the muscles between her shoulderblades.

“Niki!” Veera exclaims softly.

“Hey, look.” Her voice is sniffly again. “I’m having a day, okay, let me just –” She holds Veera tight.

“Nikiii,” she cajoles. “I’m fine.” Her eyes flick toward Beth over Niki’s shoulder. Her hand hovers over a peach on the cutting board as she meets her eye. Veera tucks her head down a little, embarrassed. But Beth’s smiling, if also looking a bit watery.

“I know,” Niki says into her shoulder. “I know you’re fine. You’re wonderful. But I’m here, okay? You’re always here for us. But we’re here for you, too.” Niki reaches an arm out blindly toward Beth until her fingers make contact, then gathers her in as if calling in backup. Beth gladly lays down the knife and joins the impromptu embrace next to the stove.

“Um.” Veera automatically relaxes under the extra pressure. It’s nice. But she’s still flustered. And the vociferous burbling of the porridge is getting a little concerning. “I think the porridge is going to boil over.”

Niki releases her with a groan. Veera’s sure she’s rolling her eyes, even though she’s a little too overwhelmed to look at either of them.

“That doesn’t mean you’re getting out of letting us be nice to you,” Niki says as she returns to the stove. Soon, the porridge is placated and eggs sizzle in the skillet, providing a crackling accompaniment.

When the food’s ready, they crowd around the table squeezed into the little kitchen nook below the window as if they do this every day. They pick slices of ripe peach and apricot off a cutting board in the middle. Spoons click in bowls as they do their best not to elbow each other. Stonefruit and cinnamon mix in the air with the light sulfur of fresh eggs and the pervasive aroma of the basil in the windowbox.

After a languid breakfast and a long morning spent simply enjoying each other’s company, the cloud cover is well on its way to burning off. The three head out to the nearby park, determined to make the most of the sun while the two Finns show off the splendor of the Helsinki summer to Beth. They pack up the fresh bread and cheese and the rest of the fruit for a picnic later.

Veera’s companions’ eyes are bright and animated as they leave behind the crisscrossing tracks of the train station and step into the shelter of the park’s old trees. Boughs bend and leaves whisper lazily in the light wind breathing over the bay. Veera follows them. With the hood of her jacket pulled down, the cool and verdant breeze caresses her short hair. Shade and sunlight dapple the grass between the footpaths and spatter the old blanket that they throw over the green, the one that usually lives on the couch that Beth’s currently taken over. They’re exposed to the open sky and anything else that might wander the earth with them. But branches lace and lattice across the blue, and the handful of other park-goers are too immersed in their own summer reverie to pay them any mind.

It’s surreal, almost. Niki basks like a lizard, looking like she needs nothing else in the world to keep her happy. Beth keeps running over to stick her toes in the salt water of the little bay. She takes every deliberate step into grass and gravel as if both she and the world are fresh and new. Peace settles into Veera’s bones. She spends half her time watching the others while reading an old fantasy novel in the shade. The other half, she looks upon the scene as if watching herself, absolutely bewildered by the way she both sees and cannot see the pain that still lives in the three of them, even as she still feels the scores it left trailing across her heart.

It's a long and lazy afternoon in the best understated way. By the time they return home sunwarmed, though, Veera’s starting to feel the effects of having been out all day doing too many things. Her skull is beginning to ache. But it’s familiar and cool and quiet here. She can rest.

Once they unpack the remains of their picnic, Niki makes good on her earlier threat of not letting Veera get out of being fussed over. She chivvies the other two into the living room and onto the couch. To Veera’s mild bemusement, Niki sits next to her, across from Beth, looking far too pleased with herself.

Then Niki pulls all three of them into a cuddle pile with Veera caught in the middle.

Veera lets out a little squeak of surprise as she’s smothered in limbs and warm laughter. Beth’s only too happy to help Niki tag-team her, the traitor. She squeezes Beth’s wrist in retaliation, but all that gets her is Beth slipping out of her grip just enough to tangle her fingers with her own.

With a little shuffling, Veera ends up with Niki pressed comfortably up against her side leaning her head on Veera’s shoulder. Niki also tucks an arm around her, as natural and necessary as breathing. Curled up against her other side, Beth backstops her. She lets Niki play with the ends of her long dark hair with the hand that reaches around Veera’s shoulders. Beth’s still holding onto Veera’s hand, steady like she’s never planning on letting go. The intense late afternoon light slants into the room, sending stars refracting off of the glass bottles on the sill that trail green-leaved vine cuttings.

Veera doesn’t know that she’s ever been as happy as she is right now. She watches herself in half-believing wonder, then stops. She breathes. She feels the others’ breathing like her own. She reminds herself to just be here, just exist.

But the restlessness that she awoke with doesn’t cease, even now with the two presences she treasures most on either side of her, tucked almost as close to her body as they are to her heart. It still aches and whispers in her ear with a soft insistence. Something about the fragile intensity of this moment calls to that unknown quantity like its own.

This little apartment on the edge of the city was never meant to be more than just enough for her and Niki to carve a safe space out of a terrifying world. And it has been that. But then there was more. There were the herbs keeping the kitchen and the succulents dotting the shelves. There were the colors covering the floor in rugs and memories covering the walls in photos. There was ample quiet to replace chill silence, and the fullness of kind words spoken like truth. There were pancakes. There was sunshine. There was Jade and Justyna and Janika and Sofia and Sarah and Helena and Katja and Aryanna and Danielle and Alison and Cosima and Jennifer and Tony and Femke and Fay and Krystal; and there was Beth, and there was Niki, and there was her.

Perhaps that’s the strangeness that keeps plucking at her mind. Not only have her situation and surroundings strayed so far from what her life used to be, but she herself is someone different now. She emerged changed out the other side of the two fires that consumed her entire life. Maybe the flames were bookends. She doesnt remember anything from before the first, and the space between them was long and lonely. The person she became during that in-between time is still fused into her foundations.

And yet, so much of the structure of her self has shifted. New parts of her unfurl daily. Being within her own body feels both utterly familiar and completely new. She can look back at the strange girl she once was and still recognize parts of her as the strange woman she is now. Now, she’s someone who gets called Veera with a voice full of love and Mika with sense of wonder and Leda with mild curiosity, and they are all her.

The unexpectedness of being given so many names still leaves her bemused. There’s a surprising intimacy to them, the way people speak them like they’re describing the shape of her in so many other lives. She’s unaccustomed to it. As difficult as people can be, what she has now is... good. When she thinks on it too hard, it makes her ribs feel like they’re closing in on her heart even while her lungs expand to take in the whole sky in an single endless exhilarated breath.

She’s thinking about it now. It’s not just a thought. It’s a longing and a fulfilling, an ache and a balm, a memory and a future, a call and response. It becomes all of her in this moment, and she shivers with its intensity. The shiver ripples into the bodies nestled on either side of her. Only a few years ago, she could never have imagined being so close, or wanting to. Sometimes it’s still too much, even with Niki – even with both of them, now, who are both so inexplicably easy to be around. The companionable solitude bathes her soul like the green breathing of a forest in eternal spring. She thinks about the unlikeliness, the flouted impossibility of it all. The feeling that it calls into bloom from her seed of a heart is almost too much.

“Veera?” Niki turns to face her in response to the shiver, her golden head catching and holding the gilded afternoon light.

“You alright, Veer?” She blinks at the new sound of the new name spoken in Beth’s softest-leather voice. It fits, too.

Veera inhales to speak, but words evade articulation. She releases the breath again to its own wordless purposes. The hand that’s been interlaced with hers squeezes gently as Beth makes a little questioning sound like a cat and shifts the comfortable weight of her knees in Veera’s lap. On Veera’s other side, Niki leans even further into her than she has been and rests her chin on Veera’s shoulder.

The press of their affection and concern envelop her in dearest aching, and it’s so much. She wants to stay right where she is. But she’s hardly slept for the past two nights and she’s tired and aching from overextending herself and her words have left her again. The immensity of feeling blooming inside her on top of everything else is just too much. She won’t be able to stay like this much longer. She needs to be by herself, to quietly sort through the backlog of everything she’s experiencing that’s stacking up faster than she can process it.

First, though, she needs them to know how much this means to her. Her ears pick up every breath and brush of smallest movement, and her world is filled with little strokes of sound that fall across her skin and hum in her chest as if painted there. They’re closer and dearer to her than anyone has ever been. Veera lifts Beth’s hand with her own and sweeps Niki’s hand into her grasp as well. Then, she presses both of them hard against her heartbeat. She bends her head down and locks her arms over her own chest to hold them there. No sound escapes her except a minute whimper.

Wordless murmurs and small shufflings to stay close tell her that they understand what she can’t say right now, and tell it back to her twofold. She sniffles a little, then begins to untangle herself without yet letting go. She doesn’t want to leave. But if she doesn’t, the waves of overwhelm that currently shove at her will become a tide that pulls her under and leaves her head pounding.

Niki’s voice, low. “You getting overloaded?”

Veera nods.

“Okay,” she says gently. “Go wind down. We won’t be loud.” Niki’s always been so understanding, right from the very first moment she’d shared her strangeness. Secret for a secret, she’d said, guarding Veera’s like her own and holding her trust like a treasure.

“Take care, Mika,” Beth says, mimicking Niki’s tone. Beth’s never been here here for this before. But Veera has texted with her at length numerous times in the past, when she can’t bear conversation out loud but still wants company. Veera can still hardly believe that Beth’s really here, proving herself as compassionate through soft sounds and touches as through a keyboard. “Don’t worry,” she adds as Veera still hesitates to let go. “We’ll be here later.”

Veera breathes out and nods again. She manages to stand, still holding one hand in each of hers. She squeezes them one more time, one after the other. Then she picks her way around the blue-and-brown mess of clothes spilling out of Beth’s suitcase onto the living room floor and steps softly into her own room. She closes the door.

With the blinds half shuttered against the afternoon light coming through the west-facing window, it’s cooler, dimmer, quieter than the main room. Veera likes it that way. She needs its restful seclusion as much as she needs the sun-glazed warmth of the rest of the place. Filled with muted purples and greens, there’s no dizzying array of photographs here. The only picture on the walls is a large cream and gray poster of a detailed sketch of the moon with all its craters arcing over its surface. Stubby succulents dot the heavily book-laden shelf and her cluttered desk in front of the window. They sort of glitter in the sunlight. The beams catch the water stored in the overlarge cells of their chunky little leaves, brightening their soothing shades of green, grey, dusty lavender, and mauve.

Nerves spangling, she changes out of her jeans into something softer without looking at what she’s doing. Sometimes, even just looking at things gets to be too tiring. Her hands know exactly where she keeps everything stashed in her dresser drawer, and her fingers are familiar with the texture of nearly every piece of clothing she owns. She doesn’t need to see them to tell them apart.

Veera sinks into the soft give of the comforter spread over her bed with a sigh. When she pulls the weighted blanket at the foot of it over herself with the rain-like rustle of plastic beans in its quilted pockets, it wraps her in gentle even pressure from above and below. The heaviness of it flattens out the frayed edges of her nerves. Laid out flat on her back with her arms floating loosely on either side and her elbows bent upward, the blanket covers everything except her face and hands.

As the creeping tension begins to trickle away, another sigh escapes her lungs. It’s a slow process. With how large her emotions are now, and with all the excitement and exhaustion of the past three days, it will take a few hours to wear down the worst of it. The tightness of her shoulders and the pinched feeling in her neck will fade. But they won’t completely disappear for a day or so – and that’s if she does nothing but rest her body and mind. The strain is mental as much as it is physical. Her brain just does what brains normally do, only sometimes slower and sometimes faster, and getting there via unorthodox roads. When rushed, the process only gets backed up, the road blocked, the paths tangled. Pushing it is like trying to run with a twisted ankle. It only makes it worse.

At times like this, it’s even easier than usual for the world to turn into sandpaper on her soul and senses. Overexposure to the riptide of existence all around rubs her nerves raw, living faster than she can think and burning brighter than she can bear. Sounds become ocean waves with weight behind them and lights fill her eyes with their intense brilliance. Gentle touches catch her skin like fire, while firm pressure forms a gravity well that could either pull her into a stable orbit or sling her satellite round reeling. It’s so easy for her to get overwhelmed by pain and pleasure alike. The line between them is faint and fluid.

To some degree, that vibrant intensity was always going to be part and parcel of the way she experiences the world. She was always going to be strange. Maybe if she hadn’t been put through two fires, it wouldn’t be quite so overwhelming quite so often. Probably. But she doesn’t know where the scars end and the inherent self begins, because they’re the same now. Whatever the cause, the person she is now is someone subject to both exquisite sharpness and terrible softness, captivated by so many infinitesimal pangs of ache and grace. It’s a lion’s share of pain and wonder across a lamb’s shoulders.

She wouldn’t change it, if she could. She didn’t choose it, but it’s hers. It’s her. It’s given her an unprecedented ability to be gentle in just the right ways with the people who need it most. That comes in handy considering how many traumatized Ledas she works with. Besides, she’s found all sorts of unusual yet efficient ways to do what she needs to do, because the normal ways don’t work for her. Sometimes that results in really neat new things, like the advanced cyber-security system she personally designed for CYGNet. It hasn’t been beaten yet, and if her constant updates have anything to say about it, it never will. If she ever gets tired of co-running the organization with their board of Ledas, she could always actually go into the tech field.

Right now, ever leaving CYGNet seems such a remote possibility. After a couple years of a reduced workload so she could actually finish school and take a few courses in database management to supplement her work, she’s finally returned in her full capacity. It feels good. Between her responsibilities managing the sheer volume of information DYAD had surrendered to them and protecting both it and their secure communication network, she has plenty to keep her mind busy and satisfied.

Now that Sofia and Aryanna take care of most of the administrative work, things run a lot smoother, too. Sofia’s steadied into tenacious steadfastness as her confidence grows, and she’s got a level head and a killer knack for budgets. Aryanna’s a great project manager and she’s got plenty enough charisma to handle the public-facing parts of CYGNet that Niki used to wrangle.

Niki’s stepped back a lot from CYGNet since Veera came back full time. She’d only been involved out of circumstance and necessity in the first place. For years, Niki had been the smiling face of Leda to the world, giving their story the life it needed to be told. Veera doesn’t know how she’d ever have done any of it without her. But really, all Niki wanted was a quiet life with the people she loved. So now that things were steadier and the world’s scrutiny had moved on, she was taking more time for herself. She worked part-time in a cat café downtown a few blocks away from the park, went on dates with Suvi around the city, and came home smiling to Veera and their little apartment.

Niki seems softer these days, happier. It’s like she’s settled into her natural gentleness, rather than defiantly clinging to it like a lifeline after the fire tried to burn it out of her. Her recovery is a thing of beauty. Sometimes Veera is stricken into stillness at the sound of Niki humming to herself in the next room, or at the sight of her smiling to herself while reading in a patch of sunlight, her legs stretched out on the couch. Sometimes, the memory of almost losing her so soon after finding her four years ago floats forth, casting Veera’s current joy in a sickly shade.

But they’ve talked through that fear they both have, many times. They’re both here, alive. They both care too much about the closeness they’ve created to ever choose to be too far apart. Anything else that might separate them will just be the ebb and flow of life, and that’s always true for everyone. Veera tries not to worry about it too much. She’s lucky to have Niki in her life. And these days, Veera’s gotten better at believing her when she says she wants to stay.

She finds her mind going unfocused, her body gone heavy like she needs a nap. It’s been an eventful day. Veera curls up on her side under the blanket, burying the rough texture of her scarred cheek in the softness of her pillow. To see her now, anyone might assume she was one of the others, marked only invisibly. Instead, a chapter of her story is written all down the right side of her body in curlicues of too-light ridges and and too-dark indentations, dappled from face to elbow to ankle. People don’t always read past that page to reach the rest of her. Much of the time, she still can’t, either. But at least there is another chapter now. It’s right here where she’s living in this strange new moment.

Her already heavy limbs go slack. Thoughts shift and sift and slip over each other half-defined. Maybe there will be more chapters she can’t even imagine yet, even better than this half-healed, aching glory.

***

When she wakes once again, Veera finds evening falling in its long, slow descent. It’s late. The sky glows with that particular kind of soft, omnipresent golden glow that only comes with the midnight sun at the height of summer. Niki and Beth have probably gone to bed already. They’re both early risers, and Beth is adjusting relatively well to her jetlag. As usual, the evening belongs to Veera.

Evening here is a half-seen time, gilded in twilight in the summers and shrouded in restful darkness throughout the long winter. Her eyes get a reprieve from the sharp definition of day among the soft placement of shadows. Even in winter, she rarely turns on the lights. Navigating the familiar space is easy by the sound of her feet on thin carpet and linoleum, by the brush of her fingertips on the matte whitewashed walls. She’s usually the only one awake. Even when Niki wakes up with bad dreams and seeks her out for comfort, they don’t talk much. Voices are kept low. Most of the time, it’s a space for her to be alone with her thoughts, turning them over and laying her experience of the day to rest before she sleeps.

Cautiously, in case Beth’s asleep in the living room, Veera pries her door open so it doesn’t clunk in its uneven frame. Sure enough, Beth’s curled up in her nest of blankets on the couch. Niki’s bedroom door is ajar, and through it she can just catch the barely-heard sounds of an occupied room, the imperceptible breath or rustle of presence simply felt. It’s the difference between quiet and silence. It's subtle, but worlds away from the dullness that permeates an empty space. Having grown up roaming two floors of dim, silent rooms with only the click of the keyboard from ‘uncle’ Matti’s office for company, Veera is endlessly familiar with that emptiness. This is something else: a living seed hidden under the soil; a flower that’s closed its petals for the night.

Pulling the hood of her well-loved purple hoodie up to shield her ears from the mechanical hum of the fridge, she slips out of her room and heads into the kitchen. Things are less sharp now, but she's still unusually sensitive, especially her ears. Retrieving a tall glass of room temperature water and a tin of chicken soup tipped into a bowl takes only a minute. She doesn’t heat it. The quiet is worth more to her than the warmth, in this comfortable stillness. She retreats to her room with the bowl clutched in her hands and curls up at the foot of her bed for a quiet dinner.

She’s far more relaxed and grounded now than she was earlier. But, checking the clock, she’s just woken up from one of her exhausted five-hour recovery naps. She’s too awake, if in a mild and focused sort of way, to go to sleep like she normally would around now.

Well. Though she’s mostly taking the time Beth’s here off from CYGNet work, she has been checking once a day just to make sure nothing critical or time-sensitive has come up. She hasn’t done that yet today because she was absolutely and completely passed out and dead to the world for half of it, so she might as well get that done now.

She cracks her door partly open so that the presences of the others can better keep her company at a distance. Then she boots up her computer and dials down the display to a dim setting in the endless dusk.

Everything looks fairly normal. There’s nothing of note in the security reports, just the usual bots automatically blocked. Other than that, there’s only two messages in her inbox that have been flagged for immediate attention by her custom filters.

The first is a notice of identity confirmation for Jennifer Fitzsimmons in the States. She filed a request not long ago for all her information retrieved from DYAD to be destroyed. It’s one of the solutions they originally came up with to make sure CYGNet didn’t just replace DYAD as a repository of excruciating detail. The whole point of the organization was to help them all reclaim the autonomy that had been stolen from them. That meant making sure every Leda had full control over their own records. CYGNet couldn’t do much for those who didn’t contact them except seal and guard their data in case they wanted it someday, which Veera did dutifully. But they could make sure that anyone who heard about the organization knew they had the option to cut that unauthorized tie.

Veera was surprised how few chose to do so - only 34 of the 113 Ledas in contact with CYGNet. Many seemed to simply consider it a comprehensive if unnervingly detailed medical history that they could refer to for their own use. Others, like herself, saw the data as a window into otherwise lost parts of their lives. After she’d decidedly parted ways with Matti, she had no one to tell her anything about the times she was too young to remember. Still others, like Beth, wanted nothing to do with their records, but chose to preserve them as proof of their ordeals.

On the other hand, a minority including Jennifer had made contact for the exclusive purpose of requesting their data be destroyed and didn’t seek any engagement with it. CYGNet verified their identities to make sure the files in question pertained to the one who was actually making the request. But they made a point of doing the verification by traditional means. They’d all had enough of blood tests and lab rats.

It was more common for people to decide to delete their data after actually accessing some of their records, the way Niki did. After confirming the identities of her monitors, she’d wanted nothing to do with any of it. She said all it did was hurt. She’d already experienced enough of the sharpness of betrayal without knowing the prickly details of every last lie. Her DYAD records were the first ones they erased. Veera deleted the digital files, and Niki burned the hard copies herself, her smile strangely grim yet satisfied as she set them alight with shaking hands. She seemed lighter, after, and less wary of the warmth of flames.

Veera spends a few minutes completing the second half of double-authorizations for Jennifer’s digital and physical record destruction (permanent removal needed confirmation from two board members) before initiating file deletion. She watches the progress bar creep toward 100% while sending the requisite forms off to Danielle in record storage. She’ll put the hard copies in the incinerator. Set to its lowest volume, Veera’s computer gives a small congratulatory bloop as Jennifer’s digital data disappears for good.

Finally, the only other thing that needs her attention is a request for the general Leda health packet from a new sender, [email protected]. Piquing Veera’s curiosity, it specifically asks after the packet’s chapter on the autism spectrum and common comorbids, even though the sender “would hardly deem it necessary, but my new psychiatrist wants to be thorough.”

As she delves further into the odd letter, it hurts a little to read. It’s laced through with the kind of disdainfully certain air of superiority that reveals just how deeply someone has internalized the cruel views that the world holds of certain ways of being. Veera’s found that this attitude is particularly common in people who actually are on the spectrum, but have been taught since before memory, consciously or unconsciously, to suppress every natural expression of their own differences from the norm. They’re more likely to notice and disparage any deviations in others, specifically because they’ve spent so long trying to disavow their own. They’ve gone so long unsupported, learning to see support only as a weakness instead of as a natural and too-often-denied necessity.

It’s heartbreaking, because Veera’s recognized so many of her own eccentricities in so many of the others, and hardly any of them know what it probably means. She sees it again and again, over CYGNet video conferences and at the occasional Leda meet-ups. Cosima’s hands dance while she talks in much the same way that her own flutter when she’s nervous. Tony’s always blasting his music like his life depends on it, and as far as sensory regulation is concerned, it probably does. Rachel deliberately tilts her head in just such a way that Veera can tell she’s masking, trying to remain poised while she takes an extra moment to process and adapt to a situation.

It’s not that surprising, really, since they all share the same genetics. Most people don’t notice, though, because they only know the broadest and most inaccurate stereotypes. That’s why Veera had insisted on adding the neurodiversity chapter to the health packet.

Veera lightly skims her fingers back and forth over the keyboard without pressing down, thinking. The clicks of the barely jostled keys clatter out a tiny rhythm. Normally, they’d want new contacts to establish a secure CYGNet account. This email’s tone and its throwaway address, though, suggests that it’s either from someone who either isn’t comfortable making contact, or who is struggling too hard with internalized shame to ask for help without doing so anonymously.

It’s an easy decision. Veera attaches the health packet PDF to her reply and sends it along with just a few words of her own.

Hey,

Here’s the health packet, including the neurodiversity chapter. Whether or not any of it applies to you, I hope it helps you find your way closer to yourself. We’ve all got a long way to go if we’re going to build lives we can call our own.

Veera’s fingers hover over the keys. She wants to somehow tell whoever this is that it’s okay. It’s okay to wonder, to look into their own strangeness, to perhaps embrace it. But they’re probably not ready to hear it.

If looking into neurodivergence ends up being a path you need to walk to do that, you’re not alone. I’m here, and so are a lot of the others. You know where to find us.

She signs off as merely MK, hoping that whoever it is might feel more comfortable with another semblance of anonymity. That’s all she can do, and for herself, that’s enough.

All at once, weariness weighs her down. Synthesizing such a delicate appropriate response takes so much effort. She’s gotten better at it, especially when she has time to compose and distill her thoughts. But such nuances don’t come naturally to her. She sags, shoulders loose. Though the light is still golden, it’s actually past midnight now. She hadn’t realized how long she spent trying to craft her words into the right shape. She folds her laptop away and sits on the end of her bed, opening the blinds to stare at the glowing amber of the summer night sky.

Now that her senses are less flooded than they were this afternoon, they itch in the way that means they’re craving some kind of input to regulate them, to calibrate her back into balance. Her vast collection of shared music is her go-to for that. There’s really nothing for it quite like becoming a song for a little while. It lets a steady measured flow of clean water smooth down the troubled riverbed of her nerves, torn up by the passing of the flood.

With her headphones on, she’s bathed in a swell of sound that washes over her like the cool sea on a warm day and just as refreshing. Her widely varied tastes change from hour to hour and minute to minute, but she always comes back to metal. The density and intensity of it literally drown out everything else with that single symphony of sensation. Now, she sways to its current in much the same way she wanted to at the market earlier – was that just this morning? Except now she can because she’s alone, and the only people near are the ones she trusts most. She lets herself dance in it, soothingly rock herself back and forth within its waves, shake out her hands along its endless ripples. She forgets the passage of time for awhile, existing only in the sound and the single present moment.

She emerges from her reverie far more relaxed and substantially more grounded. Setting the headphones aside and stretching her spine out along the bedspread, her limbs have gone soft and slow. Even with her long nap earlier, her overload was exhausting enough that she can probably manage to sleep again til morning. The thought is barely formed before she’s already drifting off.

***

She knows what’s different, when she wakes in soul-deep stillness. Lingering tendrils of vague golden-glazed dreams might just be yesterday’s memories. They retract from her consciousness like opening petals, only to birth her into that same sunlight. She can see the brightness without even opening her eyes, warmth flooding into her room through the door she’s left open.

It’s not just that she’s different now; it’s that she’s actually okay, sort of. And even after years, she’s also clearly not. And somehow... it’s enough.

The truth of it holds her in stillness for a nascent moment, like gentle hands around the wings of a bird about to be released into the sky. Then her eyes open to a room washed in brightness. Her neck and shoulders still ache, but her sight is sharp and clear. The bedroom is the same it’s been for years now, furnished simply, with a mess of cords spilling over her desk to the power strip and the too many favorite books crowding the shelves. But she can see it now, the way it’s filled with life in a way that these traces only barely begin to show. It’s not alive because she moves things around and grows plants in it now. She grows plants in it because she is vulnerably, tenaciously, heart-breakingly alive. She is what is filling the space.

Her life is now full of joy in ways she once could never have imagined. Her happiness feels strange because she is not used to it. She is healing, but she is also just beginning to understand the shape and nature of the scars on her heart and mind. They are just as deep and real as the ones on her skin. They may never truly leave her, and she has made peace with that. But that has done absolutely nothing to stop beauty from seeding her life and springing from every fracture like grass from cracks in concrete.

The restless discomfort that’s been plaguing her has been nothing more than her own hesitance, holding back from fully inhabiting this current joy. Some part of her must still believe that it’s undeserved, or that it’s impossible until she is completely okay.

But it’s not. It’s right here and already making itself hers, as broken and whole as she is. She’s been looking at every new leaf wondering if she’s allowed to love it, even while it’s sinking roots into her life and breathing life into the air.

Few people like her get the opportunities she has; to heal, to help, to grow. She’s already trying so hard to give back as many of those chances as possible, even if it's just to the handful of Ledas she’s been able to help. But that doesn’t change the fact that these opportunities are hers; and yet she’s still half holding back.

She could take them. Not from anyone, but for all of them – and for herself. She could choose it in the unknown names of all her people who have been so lost and alone and longing, the ones who never will be found and the ones who are still hoping. She could believe for all of them that she deserves the joy right in front of her. Maybe this whole time she’s been trying to help the others, she’s been trying to heal herself.

It's a terrifying prospect. But maybe doing right by people like her means doing right by her self, too. Maybe it’s as simple, as impossibly hard, as just letting herself be where she is.

With a shock that catches her breath, she realizes that she’s already made her choice. Somewhere deep inside, something has already shifted like a flower turning toward the sun. She has changed.

It’s never going to be easy. She is going to be healing for the rest of her life. Not to mention, she’ll have to do it in a world where she knows all to well that people are often cruel. But there are also people it’s easy to be around. People like her, and unlike her, but kind people, understanding people, even strangers like the plant vendor at the market and the woman with the oranges. Perhaps she needs to mourn the fact that it took her so long to find any. But now... oh, now.

She tumbles out of bed in yesterday’s clothes. She makes her way out of the room past the crusty soup bowl that she left on her desk last night. Brushing past the great glossy leaves of the swiss cheese plant like a forest creature through the undergrowth, she steps into the central room that’s blazing with light and color and life.

As she enters the kitchen, she ignores the twin cries of greeting from the stove. She casts about for her new little pearls plant. Looking around, she spies it in the kitchen window half hidden under the canopy of the basil. She marches right up to it and into the vault of sunlight streaming in.

One by one, each round little bead of a leaf leads up to the stem holding its spindly floating flower - and it's actually a compound flowerhead. It’s opened up several miniscule pinkish-white flowerets with five pointed petals each. They’re giving off the most incredible, intense smell that fills that whole corner of the kitchen and seems like it couldn’t possibly be produced by something so tiny. Her hands flutter near her shoulders in absolute delight. As she breathes in, the little flower’s fragrance mixes with the pungent aroma of the herbs growing next to it. She drinks it all in deeply, breathes in the smell until it fills her lungs. Sometimes she feels as if she could survive on the richness of such things alone, like a hummingbird subsisting on nothing but nectar.

Nonsense. Her world is so much larger than she ever thought it could be, and she wants it, chooses it. Unlatching the window, she flings the shutters open wide to the trees just outside dancing in a kaleidoscope of green and brown and gold and the sunny city beyond and the blue sky above. The summer breeze that rushes in ruffles her messy hair with a wonderful effervescent sensation.

She laughs out loud, then turns around and practically throws herself at Niki and Beth with arms outspread. She seizes them both in a messy hug that somehow manages to include that wooden spoon again. Veera still laughs, and she feels tears on her cheeks, too.

“Whoa! Hey, girl.”

“Oh, shit! Hi Mika.”

“Hey, Veera, are you okay?”

No. Yes. Always. Never. She finds herself crying harder than she’s ever cried in her life. But she’s still smiling, steeped in a deeper kind of joy and certainty than she’s ever felt before. Someone threads their fingers through her hair and strokes her head until the tide turns and sets her free. And then, still, she is held.

None of this will last. Nothing does. There is more elation and agony and monotony and uncertainty and wonder up ahead. And yet, they’re still here, and she’s beyond grateful. She’s never stopped being here. Maybe this really is exactly where she needs to be. Maybe all she needs to do is tell the garden of her heart that it doesn’t have to stop growing.

When she can, Veera breathes in deeply, her ribs pressing against the arms circling her. She feels the way her exhale blusters soft and warm in the small space between her face and the shoulders she leans it into. The yielding soft pressure of the embrace engraves itself into the very bones of her arms, and she will never ever be able to forget the ache of it and will never want to.

Fuck the fires – this is what’s real now. She wants this to be what makes her who she is. This dance of joy in strangeness can be the story she makes of the rest of her life. All she needs to do is remember her choice, and make it, again and again and again.

“Hey, there, hey... there you are,” Beth murmurs. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.”

She is; they are.

They are.

#orphan black #clone club #veera suominen #beth childs #niki lintula #mk ob #fic #long post #herbs on the windowsill au #queerplatonic #aroace #lizzie's adventures in writing #lizzie taking up space #it's here!#it's done.

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c-ptsdrecovery · 4 years

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Cults and Dysfunctional Families

The techniques of control used by cults (here meaning social groups that exert excessive and abusive control over their members) are also used by domestic abusers and child abusers. I’ve posted before about the commonalities between cults and dysfunctional families. Well, I was just looking back over the notes I had for a talk on cults that I gave in my Bible study group a couple of years ago... and there are definitely characteristics there that sound like my family. So here are some notes with my commentary added.

• Cults displays excessively zealous and unquestioning commitment to its leader (whether he is alive or dead), and regards his belief system, ideology, and practices as the Truth, as law. Questioning, doubt, and dissent are discouraged or even punished. [My dysfunctional family wasn’t quite the zealous, but yes, questioning my parents’ assumptions about the world is not popular with them.]

• The leadership induces feelings of shame and guilt in order to influence and control members. Often, this is done through peer pressure and subtle forms of persuasion. [My mom’s major forms of control are guilt trips and passive aggression.]

• The group is elitist, claiming a special, exalted status for itself, its leader(s) and members. ‪ The group has a polarized us-versus-them mentality. This discourages members from listening to the rational criticisms of the group by their loved ones. [The assumption in our home was that where other families or individuals differed in their practices from us, their practices were inferior. The way we did it was automatically the right and sensible way to do things. This constant, unspoken assumption made me think that kinder, more open families were somehow doing it wrong. This made me not only NOT question my family, but look at healthier families and practices as alien and stupid.]

• Members are encouraged or required to live or socialize ONLY with other group members. They are required to cut ties with family and friends. This means that they rarely hear any criticisms of the group from the outside, and also means that they have no social support network to help them after they leave the cult. [While my family isn’t totally isolationist, they ARE very selective about the people they hang out with. For instance, when I was a kid, my birthday parties were almost always with extended family, not with friends. I was not permitted to invite friends to them. A couple of times i managed to get my best friend invited however: because she was a second cousin. If she wasn’t, I doubt my parents would have let me invite her. Also the fact that my best friend was my cousin should give you some idea of my family’s idea of socializing. I rarely went to friends’ houses (except my cousin’s) or had friends over, yet we spent almost all Sunday, every Sunday, with extended family (very lonely for me, as cousins my age were rarely there). My parents rarely socialized outside the home except at church or with a few VERY select friends. I also lived in the country, and almost all my neighbors were relatives, so I didn’t have outside people to play with outside of school. I always knew, as a child, that it was pointless to run away, because there was nobody and nowhere to run TO. Unfortunately, while studies have shown that having even one person in your life that can nurture you can hugely decrease your trauma as a result of childhood emotional neglect, I didn’t have that one person.

The group is often preoccupied with money. [I have a lot of anxiety around money, partly because my parents mocked me for spending any of it on myself as a child. There is definitely an air of monetary preoccupation with my parents.]

“love-bombing”: Potential recruits are overwhelmed with attention which makes them feel special, loved, and an important part of the new group. Aspects of this technique include, but are not limited to flattery, verbal seduction, affectionate but usually non-sexual touching, and lots of attention. Love-bombing can produce a social high. Recruits can come to feel dependent on this feeling and the safety net of belonging to a close-knit group of people. It also makes them feel loyal and dedicated, as they now may feel they owe the group some attention in return.[like many abusers, my mom blows hot and cold. For almost a year now she’s been REALLY NICE: it dates from when she found out that I blamed their parenting for my PTSD. She’s clearly trying to convince me she’s a GOOD mom, a NICE mom, and not to tell anybody otherwise. What this has mostly convinced me of is that she COULD have been nice to me all along if she’d actually cared, but she decided she’d rather be abusive.]

In order to keep a member trapped in a cult, the group establishes a threat of some kind. This threat of death can be literal, but usually refers to spiritual death, loss of afterlife, loss of purpose, loss of identity, or the loss of important ideals and attributes. [If my family is right and everybody else is wrong, then disagreeing with my family would mean I was wrong and bad and worthy of contempt. Also, my family worked hard to wear down my self-esteem (see below) so that I believe that if I alienate my family, I won’t be able to handle myself in the outside world and something terrible will happen to me, like failure, unemployment, homelessness, and poverty.]

• Standards for thoughts and behavior are held impossibly high, so that members are never able to reach the goal of what they “should” be, and as such, they never feel as if they measure up. The goals themselves are presented as possible to attain, and thus the standards never become suspect, only the member who is not meeting them. Perfectly normal things like the desire for leisure time, the desire to be alone, or the desire to sleep are depicted as evil. Cult members are therefore tormented by their inability to reach the group’s standards, and can be manipulated through their low self-esteem. And just when they can’t stand the emotional abuse anymore… the leader will praise them for something they did well and they’re so grateful that they stay.

Creating dependency: A member comes to depend on the group for physical, emotional, social, spiritual, or other needs. The member has a high stake in continuing to stay loyal to the group. [see above]

• Cults encourage Black and white thinking: Broad spectrums of thought and morality become reduced to two options: Good vs. Evil, Love vs. Hate, Weak vs. Strong, etc. This stops cult members from seeing other options for their lives. [VERY MUCH THIS. But then if you express criticism of the family using this vocabulary, they can gaslight you by pointing out that “we didn’t do that EVERY time!”]

A persecution complex may exist whereby reasonable criticism is reframed as an attack. [This is a portrait of my mother.]

• Many kinds of abuse occur in cults. Cults mentally abuse their members by making them doubt their own ability to make decisions or live outside the group. They emotionally abuse members by tearing down their self-esteem in order to further control them. Cults sometimes physically or sexually abuse members. They almost always economically abuse their members by requiring or encouraging them to give most or all of their money and labor to the cult. Cult leaders frequently form cults in order to gain admiration, adulation, control of others, money, and/or sex. [My parents have never physically or sexually abused me, but the rest of this is true. My parents even tried to get me to use up $8,000 of my savings so that I could apply for SSI, which would MAYBE have given me an income of a couple of hundred bucks a month? A program of making me economically dependent on them as well as emotionally dependent.]

Why people don’t leave cults

· Sunk cost fallacy

· Fear of reprisals or shunning [yep]

· Fear of loss of identity [somewhat]

· Fear of death or damnation outside of group

· Leaving behind family members who are still in the cult

· Practical problems: no support system, no money, no education, no home, no job, custody of children [yep]

· Poor self-esteem and self-efficacy [definitely]

#dysfunctional family #cults #emotional abuse #childhood emotional neglect #abusive parents

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luciddeparture · 3 years

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Is Meditation for Morons?

I’m can’t exactly recall the first time I decided to meditate. I just know what happened when I finally bothered to learn how to. It has since had a profound effect on my life.

Now I know what you are probably thinking… “Meditation? I don’t need any of that woo woo crap in my life.” That’s at least how I used to feel about it, but who knows? Maybe you are a little bit less cynical than I was.

It is somewhat ironic that I am now the one who is writing a blog on meditation and its benefits.

When I first heard about meditation I immediately dismissed it, until I rediscovered it about two years ago whilst listening to a podcast called The Tim Ferris Show. The podcast is a series of interviews where Tim Ferris interviews top performers in a variety of fields from all around the world. Surprisingly, over “80% of the people [he] interviews have some form of meditation practice”. That’s a significant percentage! I’m by no means insinuating that we all need to be world-class performers, but I feel that it could not hurt to learn from those who are achieving high levels of success. Especially when there is an easily identifiable common trait, which in this case is meditation.

It slowly became clearer and clearer to me that meditation might be less bullshit than I had originally anticipated.

Before we get into things, it is important to acknowledge that although meditation is now becoming increasingly commercialised and “trendy” in Western Cultures, meditation has been a huge component of many spiritual practices for many hundreds of years. In the East, meditation played a huge role in particular in both Hinduism and Buddhism. The earliest records of Meditation can be found in the Vedas, a religious text written in Sanskrit in 500bc. After reading the Vedas the Buddha added his own spin too, developing his own technique called Satipatthana, which is now most commonly known as Mindfulness. The direct translation is Sati (Attention) or (Remember) + Upa (Inside) + Thana (to keep) So Satipatthana means: To keep your attention inside.

Transcendental Meditation was introduced to the West in part by the popular culture of the 1960’s. A notable contribution was The Beatles sharing their experiences after visiting India. Although Mindfulness meditation was introduced much later to Western Cultures. Throughout this article I will primarily be discussing the effects of Mindfulness Meditation.

Over the last few years, the process of meditation, as well as its effects, has become a rapidly expanding subfield of neurological research. One of the most interesting experiments involved scientists conducting tests on a Monk, finding that although he was 41 he had the brain of a 33 year old. They gave him an FMRI scan while asking him to cultivate a sense of compassion by meditating, and the neural activity in his empathy circuits grew by 700-800%! One of the researches later wrote “Such an extreme increase befuddles science.”

When most of us anticipate getting burned our pain receptors act as though we are already suffering. So much so that when the pain actually comes nothing really changes. Once the physical stimulus stops the mental pain slowly subsides. Expert meditators act much less in anticipation of the pain and feel the pain more intensely while the stimulus is present. Their awareness of the pain ceases immediately as soon as the stimulus is removed.

Interestingly enough, the emotional centre for the brain, the Amygdala, acts in a similar fashion to the pain response. Meditators are often much better at responding in anticipation to emotional stress.

I’m someone who has always lived predominately inside their thoughts, probably leaning on the more erratic side. The thought of being able to sit in silence sorta freaked me out, not to mention seeming borderline impossible.

To understand what my mind looks like, you need to look no further than The Simpsons. Remember that scene where Homer is listening to Marge and inside his brain a monkey is clanging symbols? That’s the relationship I had with my brain almost all of the time. I believe this is the same for most of us.

Let’s put this to the test. You, my lucky reader, can be the test subject of a little experiment on your own psyche. For the next minute, I want you to close your eyes and just do your best to focus solely on your breath. 3…2..1. GO!

How did you go? Did you get lost in your thoughts? Did you forget entirely that you were even trying to focus at all? Where did your mind take you? Your relationship (or lack of)? Work? Or maybe even what you might have for dinner?

I found that when I first began meditating my mind would sometimes find itself distracted on the most obscure things. The reason why I am illustrating this point is because often when I speak to others who have tried meditation for the first time, I hear “I tried meditation, and it’s not for me - I just think too much”. I hate to say it, but these are the people who probably should be learning to meditate most of all.

The way I see meditation, is similar to closing background apps on your phone. It saves battery, and it just makes your phone faster. No brainer. I believe the same is true with meditation and giving your brain a break from constantly thinking.

A lot of the people who are reading this article will have grown up with internet access. Therefore, you have been bombarded with external stimuli in each and every moment. Bzzz, Bzzzz, Bzzzzzzzz. I’m sure that most of you will have received a messages even whilst reading this article.

Our brains have been over stimulated and are in a constant state of overdrive. Even when we are asleep our brains are constantly thinking, even if it is in the form of dreams! Obviously that isn’t a negative on it’s own, in fact sleep is crucial for the brain. But when you add everything up it’s a lot for a brain that has only been subject to this much stimuli for around 15 years - the first iPhone only came out 13 years ago.

As you discovered just before, learning to “not think” doesn’t happen instantly. Like you, when I first attempted to sit in silence and tried to focus on my breath it did not work. My monkey mind remained supreme. Once again I was convinced that it wasn’t for me. But like all skills, meditation takes time and discipline to both learn, and improve.

I’m not saying this to deter you, it’s just the truth. An easy comparison might be to say that you wanted to learn how to play a musical instrument. It would be ridiculous to expect that you would be able to play your favourite song after your first time attempting to pick up the instrument. The same logic can be applied to meditation. It takes time, practice and discipline - however unlike musical instruments, you bring your mind to all situations in life. In my opinion, sharpening your ability to think is well worth the investment. According to scientific studies Mindfulness meditation induces big changes in the minds of experts, but when beginners first meditate not much happens.

At its core, the aim of meditation is to become more present in each moment by focusing and training attention and awareness. This is to achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state. This in turn gives you the ability to have significantly more control of how you react to external and internal stimuli when they arise in your life.

In Mindfulness meditation, the goal is to act as an observer whilst focusing on your breath, watching your conscious experience as thoughts and sensations arise and disappear.

As mentioned earlier we are often multi tasking, with tech and external stimuli, but even whilst we are not, we remain deep in thought. We are often living in the past or in the future through memory rather than in each and every moment.

Meditation helps you learn how to not be constantly reactive to stimuli on the inside or outside. When I meditate, I find that it simply quiets my mind. It’s a simple reset of the brain allowing me to slow down and focus solely on the present.

Another way of looking at it is that meditation is like going to the gym. You can see it as a way of working out your mind. To begin with your mind will wander, time traveling from the past to the future. But with practice you can slowly train your mind to become more present.

Being present throughout the day allows me to consciously make better decisions, rather than just remaining on autopilot.

As hedge fund billionaire Ray Dalio puts it “When you're centred, your emotions are not hijacking you”. “Meditation is 'the single most important reason for my success.”

If you are looking to start meditation, Mindfulness meditation apps are a great way to initially learn how to meditate. I still find myself using one most days. Having tried all of them, I would recommend Sam Harris’ Waking Up app. Its thirty day training course is clear and concise and an awesome starting point to learn how to meditate. After that, new daily meditations appear on the app. Harris is a Neuroscientist and an Atheist and breaks meditation down in a way that is less spiritual which might make more sense to a western audience.

Worried it’s going to cost too much? If you can’t afford a subscription, you can email the help section and receive a one year free subscription. No questions asked. You have no excuse not to try it!

Other Mindfulness app alternatives are:

- Headspace - Andy Puddicombe

- Smiling Mind (An Australian non-profit alternative)

For further learning check out these guys:

Sam Harris, Mooji, Ram Dass and Andy Puddicombe

I am by no means an expert in this field, I just wanted to share something which has improved the quality of my life by at least 10%. I hope that it works for you too!

#meditation #mindfullness #wakeup #samharris #mooji #ramdass #headspace

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cutebutstillsingle · 4 years

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Boof. A hard one to admit for SO many people. This was/is totally me. This is likely so many people I know who remain single or divorced into their 30s and beyond.

Even though you operate in an adult’s body, you can be hella old, and still operating with the heart of the childhood you or the heart of twenty- something you, who still was relationally immature. If you are watching your fertile window come and go while remaining single, ladies, you may be relationally immature. If you’re still in your 30s, gents, and are not yet in that mainframe of desiring to settle down, you are probably relationally immature.

If you are struggling to sustain romantic relationships, I would even go so far as to say that your perpetual singledom is like a firetruck siren of a signal from your heart that you have some therapeutic work that may need to do.

Relational immaturity specifically addresses the “relationships” slice of your overall maturity birthday cake. You might be doing just fine living in your own dwelling. You might be killing’ it at your job. You might know how to boil some water and do your taxes. Maybe you have traveled the world. But that doesn’t mean you have mastered relational maturity. If there are other aspects of your life that you can reflect upon as “not yet in an ideal state”, those other incomplete areas of your life may be linked to your relational maturity.

It is worth mentioning that relationships must be mature across multiple relationship arenas: with your own body, mind and heart. With God if you are spiritual, with your family, with your friends, and with your professional colleagues at school or work. These relationships all fall under “relational maturity”.

And then of course, your romantic relationships will be impacted by your relational maturity even more so, because these tend to be the most emotionally intimate and vulnerable. Unlike your family or your job, your romantic interest or partner is under zero obligations and is not incentivized by any business perks to stay with you. All of your relationships will be somewhat interconnected, believe it or not. You can’t show up as an outstanding business partner at work if you are trashing yourself by not eating well, not sleeping enough, and if your brain is pumping with negative self-talk. If you’re having drama with a friend you may not be as clearheaded at work or in your romantic partnership. If you have struggles or drama in your family, you may not show up in your romantic relationship as your best self. Etc. So it’s all kind of comprehensive.

For me (takes a deep breath because this is about to be very vulnerable), I noticed myself struggling in professional settings, essentially struggling over and over to get along peacefully with anyone who failed to meet my mind’s expectations of that role, and they disappointed me in any way. Even if my expectations were 100% reasonable, because perhaps anyone hired in that role should probably be able to do X, Y, or Z in order to even be considered for hire, if that person disappointed me in any way and failed to do X, Y, or Z, it put us on the fast track to our relationship either dissolving or hitting a major bump in the road.

I observed myself in over a five year long pattern of job hopping and struggles with professional relationships. I would say yes to a job, then discover that certain key players at the job majorly sucked to work with, all my favorite colleagues would quit, or that some seriously shady secrets would come to light about how that company operated.

Then I would begin the hunt for a new job for the following year in the same industry, hoping that maybe, somewhere out there, not all companies in this industry sucked. Five plus years later, I think it’s safe to say that yes, maybe they all actually DO suck in that particular industry. Because they were all shady after at least three tries to find a good job. Once, and it could be a one off. Twice, and you start to wonder, and it may not be a coincidence. Three times, and it is no longer a coincidence-- it is a pattern. And yet, I was the one failing to pivot and adjust my approach to finding job satisfaction.

There are some definite parallels to romantic satisfaction here, so read on if you have time...

I would wonder things like, “Why do I keep choosing these professional positions where the people constantly display shadiness or appalling levels of incompetence? Why don’t any of the best professionals at the job stay hired, but all the crappier employees stay hired for like, decades? Should I also keep it moving? [the answer was “yes”! But I was too naive to realize it].

Why wasn’t I able to learn after the first, or maybe the first two disappointments, and adjust course out of this entire field if they all seem to display these relational patterns I don’t thrive under?”. There were some colleagues and bosses that I had amazing professional rapport with amidst all of this, but the (pardon my french) f*ckery of the people in key decision-making roles usually drove all the best employees out the door.

I also wondered, “ Why were certain people able to tolerate or even thrive in what I considered and knew in my heart to be toxic work cultures, while I was deeply troubled by them? Why did my job dick me around so ruthlessly, but if I looked at other colleagues, the job would never dare to do the same shady things to them?”.

Sometimes I observed that the very same boss was like a gracious, generous angel to specific colleagues, and then full on illegally shafting me or others, in the very next breath. Why was this the case? Further more, the most puzzling question of all: Why was I able to have phenomenal professional relationships with some of my colleagues, that lasted long after we both left the job and which I am able to maintain to this very day? But with other colleagues who couldn't meet my standards professionally, or who were outright shady, unethical and unscrupulous to me, the connection for even a basic “we don’t even have to be friends whatsoever outside of this building, but let’s get this work done on a respectable and amicable level” was impossible.

It took a lot of therapy to figure this all out. Yes, the issues were likely rooted in my dysfunctional childhood. Yes, the issues were probably exacerbated by a couple of highly unusual and definitely relationship-related traumas that I faced in my early adulthood. And yes, the issues were not helped by these blind spots I had about how to have relational discernment and tactical knowledge for how to approach these types of relational situations. In a nutshell, relational immaturity manifested in my professional life. Because other people would fully have no problems navigating these situations. But I did. And I see the exact same patterns and struggles romantically.

I hope that I have since developed an awareness around my issues; and that I now know enough to avoid or overcome these situations next time I’m in a promising romantic relationship, and in my professional relationships moving forward.

If you sense that you might benefit from therapy, I strongly encourage you to seek it out. Just the ability to admit to yourself “I might need help from a trained professional to figure out the root of these emotional struggles” is you, becoming more mature as an adult. Because it takes courage and insight to realize when we need more help than we are able to find on our own.

If you think you can’t afford therapy, it would surprise you to discover that there are ways to make it affordable. For example, many college campuses give the students free personal counseling by default. So take advantage of that in your twenties or during grad school. Christian churches and other organizations offer personal counseling with bona fide therapists-in-training, who just need to get their hours completed under the supervision of a licensed therapist before they can officially get licensed themselves, and fly solo. There is therapy online. Your basic medical health coverage may cover therapy, unbeknownst to you. Even free governement-issued health coverage may still include personal counseling.

If the thought of talking to a therapist absolutely horrifies you, because it is too “mental” and you can’t even handle the thought that you have “mind problems”, I would encourage you to reframe what “therapy” can be. The words “therapy”, and “mental health” completely turn me off. I don’t even want to begin to suggest that I possess, or to have anyone else label me as having “mental issues” when I know myself; and I know my mind is perfectly intact. I’m just struggling in certain areas of my own personal success.

Rather than defining this type of help as “mental health”, or even “therapy” that isn’t physical therapy, I would encourage you to choose to reframe it as “emotional intelligence training” and “self development”, under the umbrella of “personal counseling”. I am WAY more comfortable with the title of “personal counseling” than I am with the labels of “therapy” and “mental health”. Just because you are seeking personal counseling for issues that are not related to your physical body, and you may need a little more help for problems that may be rooted in your past or in your emotional wellbeing, it does not mean you have a mental health problem.

I severely wish all personal counseling services everywhere would step into 2020 and re-label themselves under a much-needed umbrella of “social-emotional wellness services”. This would totally strip the taboo for people to seek out these highly beneficial services; and encourage all wellbeing practitioners to practice under this umbrella. Things like yoga, meditation, mental illness, personal counseling, couples counseling, family counseling, postpartum depression and anxiety, PTSD, and substance abuse-- all of this kind of stuff should be considered "social-emotional wellness services”, because they are all social-emotional issues. They are matters of the heart, mind, emotions, and relationship.

If you’re like “yeah f*ck reframing-- I am not down with therapy at all, sorry”, there are a lot of beneficial podcasts on relationships that can begin to help you tap into your emotional core in private, and maybe help you get some insight on any past relationship traumas or relationship patterns. There are amazing life coaches with free youtube videos that can help people.

Some of my absolute favorites are:

- “Stephan Speaks”

- heart of dating podcast (christian)

- Mark Manson

- Zen Habits

- Amy Chan / Renew Breakup Bootcamp

- Matthew Hussey (I would recommend more of his recent stuff, and less of his gamey, ‘how to get the guy’ manipulative kinda stuff).

I have another resource that is absolutely phenomenal; but not everyone is ready for that level of truth. And it does come from a christian man. If you’re intrigued by that, willing to be vulnerable, willing to hear harder truths, and especially if you consider yourself a Christian man or woman, send me a direct message on tumblr and I’ll send you the name of one of the most transformative relationship coaches I have ever found.

#relationships #relationship advice #breakups #healing #personal counseling #Do I need therapy?#Date Better #learn #grow #heal #know thyself #emotional intelligence #social intelligence #relationship tips #maturity #immaturity

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homestuck-kinstuff · 4 years

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may i have a tarot reading for my nepeta timeline? thank you.

Hello Nepeta

Absolutely dear, it would be a pleasure. 💜

Sorry for the tardiness, things are always just a hair on the side of insane these days. I have your full reading below the cut:

Beginning

Eight of Cups, Upright:

Looking back on a situation, you've realized it's toxic nature and have made the difficult decision to leave it behind. However, you've still abandoned something that was once very dear to you, and you feel that loss deeply.

At a young age, you were forced or raised into a difficult situation. You had the self-awareness to realize fairly quickly that this was a situation that did you more harm than good.

With regard to an Alternian upbringing, it's possible your lusus wasn't taking very good care of you, and you decided it was in your best interests to strike out on your own.

Middle

The Emperor, Upright:

The Emperor represents the archetypal "Father Figure," bringing structure, authority, and stern but understanding guidance. In his advice, he emphasizes wisdom of the head over that of the heart.

If, in your timeline, you had any sort of relationship with Equius, this is likely when he became a part of your life.

If not Equius, than this signified the arrival of another good authority figure in your life. They left a huge impression on you, and positively impacted many aspects of your timeline.

Towards the End

Knight of Wands, Upright:

The Knight of Wands is easily driven to action. They dislike biding time and plan-making, as they are gifted with a blazing passion when pursuing a vision. This can make their bravery a little impulsive, brash, or bordering on unrealistic.

At this point in your life, it's likely you were filled with an idea, something you felt you needed to do. Those around you may have been discussing details that felt trivial, or wasting time planning when the need for action was burning you up inside.

It's also possible during this time most of your life was consumed by a figure who possessed the above qualities. A sometimes impulsive, fearless, action oriented individual with a powerful vision for themselves or others.

Challenges

Four of Wands, Upright:

This card represents community. A celebration of harmony, happiness, and the good relationships that are born from those things. It indicates this joy blooms after a period of hard word, and it is usually in regards to families, or other larger groups of people.

You likely struggled to keep the peace among your group of friends. There was likely often bickering, or people splitting off on their own, just a general lack of togetherness that made teamwork, and then later enjoying the fruits of your labor near impossible.

It's also possible that you had trouble allowing yourself to be a part of that kind of joyful community. You may have created conflict or dissonance in a group.

Another possibility: you may have often withdrawn from others, pulling back into yourself, denying yourself the joys that come with a community. It may have been hard for you to relate to others, or you perhaps didn't know how to reach out to others if you needed help or a friend.

How You Faced Them

Seven of Swords, Reversed:

You were in a position where you needed to lie, betray, and steal to survive, but a spark within you is beginning to yearn for change. You have within you the desire for reform, for growth into a new and better you.

It's likely you lied about or hid how you were truly feeling from your group of friends. It may have been exhausting to keep up with this fake friendly front, but to you, it was better and easier than being vulnerable, than actively taking a part in your little community.

But you realized you needed change. You knew on some level that this way of relating to your peers was hurting you, and you longed to give up the act. Whether or not you followed through on these desires, I'm not sure.

You

Queen of Pentacles, Reversed:

Reversed as she is, the Queen of Pentacles speaks to a work-home imbalance. She implies you may be pulled in too many directions, so you cannot give enough to any party.

At your core, you are someone who loves to give your all for your friends.

But you give too much, with little to no regard for your personal resources. You don't know or don't care how much any one task will cost you: emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually.

This often causes you to spread yourself to thin, and the people you care about arent getting the full scope of what they needed from you.

The End

Temperance, Upright:

This card is all about balance. You're taking the middle road, finding what brings you peace, brings you calm. You're adapting and cooperating to make the most of what the world throws your way.

It's possible you died restoring some sort of balance to your life, your friend's lives.

Perhaps there was an aspect of the game that needed balancing, and you lost your life in the process. Your struggle with community and cooperation could have been resolved, at the very end. A final push with fluid, harmonious teamwork could have brought you the peace you've been craving.

Regardless, one thing to me is clear. When you met your end, you did so finding that balance you needed, and resolving the challenges you'd been facing.

Advice

Page of Wands, Upright:

The Page of Wands indicates the start of a new creative vision, a new way of expressing yourself. The spirits of discovery and enthusiasm are strong in them, and they are brimming with ideas.

You've just conquered the main challenge of your timeline, which is no small feat. This closure, this relief of struggle you've been able to achieve, has opened many possibilities to you.

Revel in this newness, rejoice in these possibilities, and above all: allow yourself to get excited. Dig right into it, get lost in it. You've earned it. 💜

The Devil, Upright:

Representative of all the fears, insecurities, and obsessions that hold us back from our true potential, The Devil is hardly ever a welcome sight.

It is easy to slip back into old habits, Nepeta. Old vices can fit you so well, it can feel like they're holding you, supporting you.

In reality, they pull you down. They stunt your growth. Do not forget this dear, you deserve all the good in the universe. 💜

Five of Cups, Upright:

Pain, grief, disappointment. The five of Cups represents the sadness associated with loss. However, this card implies that there is still a chance to salvage some of what's been lost.

It's okay to mourn. It's okay to grieve for friends, relationships, possibilities that you lost in life because of what you were struggling with. Because of your own passing on.

But do not forget you have the ability to make new friends, forge new relationships, seize new possibilities. It does not discredit your past relationships to look for new ones, and you deserve new love.

Thank you for reading, I hope this helped jog a few memories for you. 💜

As always, you would know your timeline better than I. These are your memories, not mine. If something doesn't feel right, it likely isn't.

If any part of this reading doesn't strike a chord with you, I'd heartily recommend looking into the meaning of the card in question yourself. Tarot cards have many meanings, and another interpretation may make more sense to you. 💜

Kind Regards,

🌹Mod Rose🌹

#homestuck kin #homestuck #hs kin #anon #kin #anonymous #homestuck kinstuff #kinstuck #mod rose #tarot reading #tarot #tarot card readings #nepeta leijon kin #nepeta kin #nepeta #nepeta leijon

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bcdaily · 5 years

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Author Interview

Tagged by: my love @ghost-of-bambi

Name: Bee

Fandoms: James/Lily, Harry/Ginny (Harry Potter) [Also I guess technically there is ONE Sailor Moon fic still out there, but the secret of that penname and story will die with me 😜)

Where You Post: FFnet and A03

Most Popular Oneshot: Ooh, that’s interesting. I actually don’t know? My first response would be Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub, but that could just be my bias toward it. I think the smut oneshots also get a lot of traction: Auror Training and Coercion and Competition.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: This little ol’ lady called Commentarius.

Favorite Story You Wrote: I can’t pick one. It’s physically/emotionally/spiritually impossible. I love Comm, Eight Days, Covet Thy Neighbour, Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub, Elevator Love Song, Auror Training, Realising, Good, Decent. They all mean a lot in different ways.

Story You Were Most Nervous to Post: Elevator Love Song, because it was a gift for @ghost-of-bambi and I wanted her to love it.

How Do You Choose Titles: Terribly. I’m the WORST with titles. Usually I just look for a word in the story that fits or THE most basic motif that occurs within and go with that. Or, you know, open a Latin dictionary. It’s never pretty or clever.

Do You Outline: Nooooooo, I hate outlining. It makes me feel UTTERLY claustrophobic and beholden and sucks the fun straight out. I DO try mentally to have a beginning, various little bits in the middle, and an end, but I won’t write them down or flesh them out. I have to do that while I’m writing otherwise it feels stale.

Complete: Hmm, according to FFnet, there is something like 38, but I feel like that’s a light number as some of the chapters in Farrago are completed one-shots all their own.

In-Progress: Four posted WIPs, and about a half-dozen one shots in various states of completion.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: Lol, all the in progress above?? I feel like my one shot with Sarah that we started writing when I was visiting will be next, but I also have two canon one shots in the works that could spring ahead. Probably Eight Days on the multi-chapter WIPs.

Do You Accept Prompts: Sure! I don’t always promise to do them, but you never know what idea will spark something.

Upcoming Story You’re Most Excited to Write: Eight Days and Covet. =)

Tagging: whoever wants to do it! This was fun!

#author interview #fun!

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freudsghost · 4 years

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i think i’ll post about this outside the tags because i usually post in tags because its easier and less vulnerable (they aren’t rebloggable lol)

(not sure where to start this but...) it’s been one year since my dad died. (feb 7th) and I’m just now starting to really process what that means to me. its all sorts of messy and involves me uprooting all this childhood trauma. he was my “good” parent because my mom was abusive and now without him here I’m left with the decision of keeping her in my life or not. as of right now we are still in contact because shes my last tie to him. and I can’t let that go right now.

but processing all of that is now paired up with processing all the religious manipulation and emotional abuse i had in my late teens and early 20s.

my parents weren’t religious. my dad was agnostic and my mom was raised jewish by her very religious jewish parents. i entered my early teens as an “agnostic jew” and that’s where i find myself today. some people might not understand that label and that’s fine. it’s the only one that works for me right now. at the same time i labeled myself an agnostic jew, i also knew at nearly the same time i was bisexual. i’ve never been uncomfortable with that and the only thing that’s made me uncomfortable with my own labels/truth are outside sources/people/etc. i don’t like disappointing people i’ve emotionally invested in and it hurts when i hear that something is wrong, impossible or stupid.

my mom refuses to accept me in some ways and went to extremes to ‘punish’ me accordingly. (for reference: narcissistic parentification) I've had other influences reject who i am and try to change me to the point of a pretty extreme identity crisis. my ex husbands evangelical christian belief played a huge role in that. it’s been a really hard process trying to put myself back together after decades of trauma, manipulation and abuse. the last three years have been the hardest because I finally realized that if I wanted to find peace I really needed to unpack a lot of things. it started with a lot of childhood abuse, and relationship trauma. 2019 for me almost felt like a wash, my dad died unexpectedly, I was left picking up so many pieces mentally, emotionally and physically. It was shocking. I felt like I was at a standstill emotionally. Like I couldn’t make any progress. Very very recently i realized that my dad would want me to be happy and that to get there I not only need to work on moving into life without him, but that I need to really unpack all the religious trauma I’ve been through. Accepting that it even happened has been rough.

Now I don’t believe in fate. Not even a little bit. As much as I like the mysterious and the occult and spirituality, I don’t really believe in it personally. But a few months ago a friend introduced me to GMM and now, I’m here, in the midst of my own religious trauma listening to their religious deconstruction that not only involves the same branch of Christianity, but the same organizations that I was involved with via my ex-husband. I don’t really want to go into all the trauma that happened during that time. (you can read my previous post, TWs are at the top)

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say here, but it’s so helpful to hear that I’m not alone in this same kind of unravelling despite our stories being so different. While they were believers and christians, I never was. I never said I was. I never had a ‘come to jesus’ moment. And I never wanted one. But I still managed to end up traumatized by evangelical christianity. I was young, vulnerable and coming out of a manipulative and abusive home and I found someone that I thought cared about me (red flags everywhere, in retrospect) At seventeen I thought I knew what love was, and it was mostly a reflection of my toxic relationship with my mother. So it makes sense that I found something similar in my ex-husband and my involvement in CRU. Breaking free of that has been hard, painful, nut ultimately freeing.

listening to these EB eps has been difficult for me but also really really helpful. beyond helpful. they’ve been healing in a way i can’t properly express in words. i know r&l have said they are open to hear other peoples stories and I wish i knew how i could share mine with them, but it feels like it would be too much. I’m not sure how i could fit this into 120 characters, i’m way too verbose. (and also I don’t use twitter) maybe someday I’ll be able to find the words. but for now I’m just putting it all here (and unedited as a stream of consciousness rant)

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