apprehensiveacolyte: (cass)
So, we’re debating getting a rat instead of a ferret once we move into our own apartment. Because although ferrets are adorable, we actually have experience keeping rats, and they’re much less likely to get into things they shouldn’t.

River is still pouting at me to get a black-footed ferret and name it after her.

apprehensiveacolyte: (river)
I posted about this already on [community profile] more_than_one , but in case anyone not part of that community would be interested, I decided to post it here too.

we just started a community called [community profile] plural_geekery for plurals who are involved in fandoms, but would not feel comfortable in most other fandom spaces because of their plurality. (in our case, many of us don't like engaging with fandom because we've been misinterpreted so badly by the fandoms for our sources.) it was primarily created for other fictives but non-fictives can join too.

apprehensiveacolyte: (cass)
Earth's solar system, in Circular Gallifreyan. 


May. 30th, 2017 02:49 pm
apprehensiveacolyte: (cass)
Our friends [personal profile] thehiysystem just moved over here from Tumblr and could use some help finding their way around Dreamwidth. 
Could y'all go check them out and maybe give them a follow or two? Thank.
apprehensiveacolyte: (cass)
You know, it's funny, when everyone's shitposting at each other, EVERYBODY wants to hang out on the GT chat. But the moment I put up an application form for people to help transcribe some podcasts, suddenly people are as quiet as mice.
 Okay so. I know how to set up an access filter now how do you put a post in it? 
So, yeah, we've got three access filters now.

We've got a Woo filter, which is all our otherkin/pagan/Gallifreyan Tradition things.

We've got a Mental Health filter, which is for mental health things.

And we've got a Just Survivor Things filter, which is for all the shit we've been through both in this world and our other worlds. It also includes my cult experiences.

Comment if you'd like to be added. 

How do you set up an opt-in filter? I kind of want to set one up for my Gallifreyan Tradition/fictionkin/pop culture pagan musings so that no one who doesn't want to see it has to but I'm still super new at this.

apprehensiveacolyte: (SV)
So, there's a friend of ours on Tumblr (I know, I know) who has just had $700 stolen from them by abusive parents. We've known them and their fiance long enough to know that their story is legitimate and they could really use some help to get out of their situation.

They're also a REALLY good diviner/tarot reader. Like, scary good. Their readings are some of the best I've seen, and Cass will tell you that they're the only ones they'll trust. Anyway, they're offering tarot and oracle card readings for between $1 and $7 depending on the length of the reading-- $1 is a one-card draw, $3 will get you a three-card reading, $5 will get you a past life reading, and $7 will get you a full celtic cross spread. You can find the post here and contact them through their blog if you'd like a reading.

If you're not into divination, which I completely get, they've also got a Youcaring which you can donate to here if you want. Just please help this person if you can. They've been fucked over pretty badly and every little bit helps in getting them out of their situation and into a better place.

 “Children,” Justinian muttered, writing furiously in the notebook he seemed to always carry with him. “They’re canaries. Canaries in a mine.”
I looked over at him. “What do canaries have to do with anything?”
“Miners used to take canaries with them as a way of indicating the air quality in a mine shaft, if the canary stopped singing and died that’s how they’d know to get out.” Laila shrugged. “Don’t ask me how I know that. You accumulate a lot of random knowledge when you spend as much time online as I do.”
“So, what you’re saying is… shit hits the fan, the kids die first?”
“No, Siobhan, I’m not a monster. No matter what you’ve been taught to think about people like me. I’m saying that the kids would know first. Especially with something large-scale like this.” He pointed towards an empty lot across the street that had been repurposed as an impromptu play park by the neighborhood kids. “Notice anything odd about this picture?”
As one of the lost, he had grown up in a world that was strikingly different from the world I knew as a Daughter of Lightning. I grew up cloistered, surrounded only by my Guardians and instructors who knew how to guide the development of those like myself. Very rarely was I allowed to socialize with the other children in the facility-- very rarely did I even see them. My days were spent in training and study and contemplation, from the moment I was taken away until the moment I finally escaped my prison. 
So, no. I didn’t notice anything odd about the scene in front of me. I surveyed the lot and those who were currently occupying it. Kids of varying ages, almost all of them Lost, all of them running and laughing and playing. “They seem to be having a good time,” I guessed. “Like kids do when they don’t grow up in House of Lightning facilities. What are you trying to show me?”
“Pay attention to the ones with the sidewalk chalk,” he said, finally showing me what he had been doodling in his notebook-- a complex design of interlocking circles and jagged edges. A symbol that I had seen before. A symbol that was currently being drawn by about ten children, all working seemingly independently of each other, with different colored sidewalk chalk. “Patterns, princess. It’s all about patterns.” He was right. There was a pattern, and I was too oblivious to notice it until now.
It was the symbol tattooed between my shoulder blades. The symbol embroidered on every piece of clothing that I owned between the ages of four and seventeen. The symbol of the people who made me who and what I am.
It was the symbol of the House of Lightning.
A lady who had seen and done much in her life decided to travel the world in six weeks. She did not know if it was possible, and did not much care that those she knew said it was not. To her, all things were possible if one only gave them a bit of thought. So the lady set off on her journey.
In the first week, she met a battle-scarred warrior who had seen many things that haunted him. He shared his burden with the traveler and she shared hers with him, and they became close friends. When it was time for the traveler to leave, both of them felt like their burdens were a bit lighter.
In the second week, she met a very religious woman with many regrets. The religious woman was concerned that her god had not forgiven her. “My friend,” the traveler told her, “the only way that anybody in heaven or earth can forgive you is if you forgive yourself. From that, all else follows.”
In the third week, she met an artist whose art was inspired by their pain. The artist was capable of great things, but did not want to force their pain on the rest of the world. “Others are feeling the same things you are feeling,” said the traveler to the artist. “It would do them good to know they are not alone.” The artist and the traveler shared a friendly embrace and parted ways forever.
In the fourth week, the traveler met a caretaker who had been taken advantage of by those xe loved. Because of this, xe did not want help or guidance from the traveler. “It’s not my place to help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped,” the traveler told the caretaker. “But I hope that we can still be friends.” And so they were, for as long as they could be, before the traveler’s instincts told her to move forward.
In the fifth week, the traveler met a runaway. The runaway was without country, family, or friends, and was every bit as alone as the traveler. So the traveler and the runaway ran together across the land, having new adventures and making new memories to take the place of the old life that the runaway had left behind.
In the sixth week, the traveler walked alone, but she was not lonely. She was content, for she knew that she would be remembered fondly in the lands that she had visited, even if only by a few. And as her journey came to a close, and the familiar sight of her home came into view, she was happier than she had ever been– not because of the places she had been, but the people whose lives she had touched.
 Finally things start to get interesting, and we find out that Patrick Ness actually stole Katrina's idea in order to write Class!
Joking, of course. Class is a level of brilliance that Katrina can't even hope to aspire to (and it's only going to get better from here, assuming the rumors of its cancellation are false.) Also, there are gay people in it, whereas Katrina thinks The Gays™ are a plague on society.
As one of The Gays™, this caused quite a bit of conflict.
Right. So, off we go then!
BUT BEFORE WE GO ON, I have something rather important to say.
This installment of "Let's Read The Secret Saga" alludes briefly to incest, though it's not graphic at all. If you are triggered or squicked by this, please skip everything from "Also, we need to talk about this 'Geronimo' at the end" to "I guess that when I first read this, I was in too deep to see any of this story through a critical lens."

Are you ready to have your mind blown? )
 “I’m a cult survivor.”

“Oh really? Which one?” they ask with interest.

“I was evangelical.”


It’s weird, the way people react when we tell people that. I often wonder why the reaction we get when we talk about our days with Katrina's inner circle are so much more exaggerated, and this is the answer: They want the sensational things– weird sex rituals and record-breaking mass weddings and Ancient Aliens-esque creation myths. Evangelical Christianity is mainstream. It’s normal and commonplace. Therefore, it’s something people see as benign. That’s something that bugs the fuck out of me, both as a survivor and a researcher– to most people who haven’t been part of a high-demand group, cult just means “recently formed religious group with odd beliefs.” 

The Church of Scientology, as an example, isn’t a cult because they believe in Xenu. They’re a cult because of how thoroughly they control every aspect of their members’ lives. So do a lot of evangelical groups. So do a lot of multi-level marketing companies. So do some political activist spaces. Any group can become cult-like if the right imbalance of power is present– a LARP group, a birdwatching society, a knitting class, et cetera.

That's not to say that Weird Beliefs(TM) can't be a tool of manipulation in themselves. They absolutely can. But that is a subject for an entirely different post.

Crossposted from, a separate blog I've created just for this.

Okay! We've got a HELL of a lot of criticism straight off the bat here. Let's begin.

First of all, you'll notice that this story is broken up into five nice, block-quoted paragraphs. Yeah, Katrina didn't do that, I did. This was all one paragraph. Granted, the print on Wattpad is only slightly bigger than the print in your average children's book, so that compensates for the wall of text, but only slightly.

Second of all, I'm honestly struggling to understand... anything she says. I'm not one to nit-pick spelling and grammar, but jesus figure skating fuck. If you're going to publish a story on the internet for everyone to read, you should learn how to use spell check.

In this case, my complaints about her spelling and grammar aren't about intellectual snobbery, they're about readability.

Right. So, in this action-packed installment, our heroine faces such obstacles as stargazing, daddy issues, and a serious crisis of identity. Sounds exciting, right? Then it's time for us to read The Secret Life, Chapter One!



Jan. 8th, 2017 07:17 am
I don't know what to say here except that this is my first entry. Hopefully I can get to know some cool people here?
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