"Yeah, it’s a pretty steep order even for me, and I’m one of the castes that benefits from the system, so they don’t figure they have to pound it in that hard. I know it’ll take time and it won’t be easy. And I’m talking like you’re definitely going to work on it, but the truth is I have no right to push you. It’s up to you. I just…"
You pause. Will it be too pushy to say…? But you’re his matesprit. It’s not wrong to want him to be happy.
"I just hate that you have to feel inferior to anyone. You have so much to be proud of. You ought to be able to hold your head up. Any system that forces you to bow to children and idiots is wrong.”
You know he’s right, of course he’s right. And he’s high enough that he’d be right even if he was wrong. You frown, not sure how to explain the feeling that comes over you, like you really need to punch someone with your actual meat fist.
Actually, no. you just tell him all that stuff you just thought, in exactly those words, and you make what you think are proper troll fists to illustrate the problem.
You nod seriously. Then you gently take his hands, open his fists, and reclose them properly, with the thumbs on the outside. “Like this, see?” you say softly, still holding one bony fist. “And keep the striking surface in line with your wrist, so the force is transmitted up your arm. Then you won’t break your fingers.”
"Oh, okay," you say, and nod like you know what the fuck he’s talking about. "My knuckles thank you for your txmely xnterventxon." You lean in, pushing your face up into his personal space. You have discovered a sudden and pressing need to get you some of that.
The moment turns into a Moment, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. He’s looking at you like — well, the same way you’re looking at him. And you’re looking at him like he’s everything. You wish you had more secrets to entrust to him. You wish you could let him debug your protocols. You’re so grateful to be allowed to keep him safe, and you wish he had the power to return the favor, because he deserves to be your hero.
His hands are so warm as your fingers twine together. His eyelashes are so long, fluttering down as you lean in to meet him. His lips are so sweet, so soft, with the faintest roughness of old scars. You know now that no one can die of pitying someone too much, because if it were possible it’d be happening right now. Your chest hurts from how much possessive, protective compassion you feel for him.
He breaks the kiss to rub his cheek against yours, nuzzle at your hair, awkwardly petting your back. His rusty purr starts up, and yours rolls out to harmonize. Without lifting your head from his shoulder, you grope blindly for book and husktop, captchalog them out of the way so the two of you can lie down, the better to tangle yourselves together. You know how to read the variable weather of his affection now, at least well enough to understand that he’s anxious and trying to distract himself from worries he doesn’t feel up to tackling. So you hug him nice and tight. Make yourself something solid to hold onto, something sheltering to burrow into. Nibble his ear, rub gently near the base of his horn, give him sensations to focus on without, you hope, coming across as demanding.
"You make me happy," you tell him with quiet joy. "I’m so glad of you."
is it weird that i give myself otp feels when i write my part of this rp?
The idea of doing this makes me feel like my guts are going to escape my body in an intense guts-escaping splorch of doom.
THAT’S 31 FUCKING STORIES WHY WOULX ANYONE SIGN UP FOR THAT
*thinks about signing up… likes failing hard*
I once would have thought this impossible. Then I wrote fanfic for three years.
Not saying I’m going to do this, mind — I have other things that want writing that I really need to focus on — but it looks like it could be fun and interesting. (FINALLY a writing challenge not held in the darks of winter…!)
I’m super tempted, but have on occasion taken 13 months on a story and have trouble with a story a week…
So… we’ll see. May is probably going to pretty busy - and I’ll be out of town for two of the weekends (he said, as though that wasn’t every month). Plus I suspect I would have to revisit what I think “counts” as a completed story.
the prompts are interesting, and i like the idea of writing a series of exercises. due to my autism, though, there is absolutely no way i could write a new thing every day for more than about three days running; the processing load would get so steep that i’d shut down to the point of being unable to take care of myself.
so i won’t be signing up but i’m sorta considering trying to do the prompts sometime.
I did EMDR for the first time! It made a lot of things make sense, but at the same time it’s all YAY LET’S PULL THE CALLUSES OFF OF YOUR CRAPPY MEMORIES FROM WHEN YOU WERE FIVE YEARS OLD AND STARE AT THEM
I didn’t think I could still cry over that stuff, it was weird.
But! It’s a productive sort of hurt. I feel like I’m digging around and learning stuff and processing things, and in the long run it’s a good feeling.
Even so, I’m treating myself to fantrolling and goofy palefic and a metric crapton of easter chocolate because holy hell what a trip.
y’all may have to prod me a bit in the fantrolling, cuz i’m not firing on all cylinders today. just sorta turn me around, point me in the right direction, and give me a little shove. that said, i am game to fan all the trolls.
The first time I heard of “homosexuals,” I was completely confused.
I was a sheltered Christian kid and I’d never heard the term, so I asked a more worldly friend about it.
As my friend explained it, homosexuals were men who put their you-know-what in another man’s you-know-where, which was probably the grossest thing I’d ever heard.
“BUT WHY?!” I wanted to know. Why would anyone want to do such a thing?
“I have no earthly idea,” my friend replied.
For many years, that’s what I thought homosexuality was. I thought gay men were perverts who weren’t content with God’s design—and had therefore decided to push the sexual envelope by engaging in male-male sex. (Why? I didn’t know. Maybe for the sexual thrill? Or to rebel against God? I wasn’t sure.)
In my mind, “homosexuality” was some form of bizarre, kinky sex for crazy people.
But then something happened.
When I’d hit puberty and all my friends had started to feel attraction to girls, I hadn’t. I had started to feel attraction to guys instead. For years I’d denied it to myself or written it off as a phase, but finally, I had to face the truth: that in spite of my strong faith and the fact that I was dating girls, I had never been attracted to women, no matter how hard I tried.
It took me many years and many prayerful, tearful nights to admit that my brain is wired differently from most guys’. What they feel for girls, I feel for guys. And what they feel for guys, I feel for girls. I can be great friends with a woman, but I can’t fall in love with her. A close female friend feels like a sister, not a lover.
And that’s when I realized:
So that’s what people mean when they say they’re “gay.”
It’s not about sex at all.
It’s about what you feel inside. It’s about how you relate to other people. It’s about who you’re attracted to—not just physically, but romantically and emotionally. It’s about who you could—or couldn’t—fall in love with.
And this is why people fight so much about homosexuality.
As I’ve written before, “homosexuality” isn’t a helpful word, because it’s far too vague. If you believe, as I did, that homosexuality is something people do—a sex act—then a lot of stuff about gay people seems silly or senseless. Of course you wouldn’t compare a sex act to marriage. Of course you wouldn’t talk about a sex act around children or in polite company. Of course you wouldn’t ask for public endorsement of a sex act.
This is how I saw the gay rights movement for many years: It made no sense to me, because I thought homosexuality was about a sex act. And lots of people still do. You can tell because of the comparisons they make—comparing it to sexually abusing animals or children, for instance—and because of the questions they ask, like, “Why can’t you just keep it in the bedroom?”
They’re not trying to be mean. They’re really, genuinely baffled by it all. Just like I was.
But here’s the truth: I’m gay, and my life isn’t about sex. Some of my gay friends are having sex, and some aren’t. What we have in common isn’t sex; it’s that our brains are wired differently from our straight friends’ brains. We didn’t ask for it. Some of us fought for years—even decades—to try to become attracted to the opposite sex. Others accepted themselves early on. All of us are faced with the same situation: We can fall in love with the same sex, but not the opposite sex. We could choose to be celibate, but we can’t choose to be straight.
Is it any surprise, then, that most gay people—like most straight people—want to fall in love and have a romantic relationship with someone? Is it any surprise that physical intimacy, including sex, is usually a part of that relationship?
“But Justin,” some Christians say to me, “maybe you didn’t choose your feelings, but can’t you just treat them as a temptation and abstain? I chose to abstain from sex until I got married.”
Well, yes, I can, but that’s exactly my point. Even if I abstain from sex for my entire life, I’m still gay, and I’m still alone. That’s not actually a solution to anything; it only seems like one if you think this is all about sex.
As a gay Christian, I have a lot of questions about my future: What if I fall in love some day? What if I don’t? If I end up alone—by choice or by chance—what happens to me if I get sick and there’s no one to take care of me? And if I do fall in love with a guy and decide to build a life with him, I’m pretty confident that 99% of the questions and challenges I’ll face will have nothing to do with sex. Relationships are hard, no matter who you are. So if your only concern about my life is whether I’m having sex, it sure doesn’t seem like you’re thinking very much about me as a person.
Yes, sex and sexuality are part of life. But now I understand something I didn’t understand before: Gay, straight, or bi, a person’s “sexual orientation” isn’t just a sexual orientation. It’s how you’re wired: sexually, yes, but also emotionally, romantically, relationally.
Homosexuality isn’t about a sex act any more than heterosexuality is. Some gay people never even have sex, and those who do, don’t all have it the same way. But we’re all human, we all feel loneliness, and we all crave love.
Unfortunately, there are still a lot of people out there who think homosexuality is a sex act. As long as that misconception exists, they’ll keep right on being baffled by my calling myself a gay Christian, and my gay friends will keep right on being frustrated at what seems like a total lack of human compassion.
And me, I’ll just keep right on saying, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
i love reading about kitchen science but every article on emulsifiers for salad dressings says mustard, egg yolk, honey. over and over, mustard, egg yolk, honey. they mention there are a number of others, but never name them.
you guyssss how do i emulsify my ginger sesame dressing without making it sweet or mustardy
i might just be out of luck
thanks for the suggestions, everyone! i’m going to try miso because i always have some on hand so i don’t have to go looking for it specially.
I mentioned in my last post that Autism Speaks loves mouse-model studies. Another focus of its research is in trying to discover what causes the “restricted” interests that autistic people “suffer”…
since some of my ‘restricted’ interests change over time, becoming more or less prominent in my life, i’m able to study and enjoy like a dozen topics over the course of a year, where an allistic person might only have one or two that last the whole time. who’s ‘restricted’, then?
which one is sick — getting REALLY SUPER INTO penguins for a week, learning everything you can about them, watching every documentary about antarctica you can find, and talking about them all the time until the obsession wears off — or being only into penguins enough that your less imaginitive friends give you a penguin mug every year for the rest of your life?
trick question — the answer is neither! it is totally okay to only sorta like something. but it’s ALSO totally okay to sperg on a topic as hard as you want, and no one should treat you like a diseased moron just for liking something a lot!
being obsessed with a single narrow topic is how we get genius researchers, engineers, writers, forensic investigators, etc, who achieve amazing things in their ‘narrow’ field. there’s nothing wrong with being a generalist, but there IS something wrong with treating specialization as a disease or a moral failing.
1. Single moms are the problem. Only 9 percent of low-income, urban moms have been single throughout their child’s first five years. Thirty-five percent were married to, or in a relationship with, the child’s father for that entire time.
2. Absent dads are the problem. Sixty percent of low-income dads see at least one of their children daily. Another 16 percent see their children weekly.
3. Black dads are the problem. Among men who don’t live with their children, black fathers are more likely than white or Hispanic dads to have a daily presence in their kids’ lives.
4. Poor people are lazy. In 2004, there was at least one adult with a job in 60 percent of families on food stamps that had both kids and a nondisabled, working-age adult.
5. If you’re not officially poor, you’re doing okay. The federal poverty line for a family of two parents and two children in 2012 was $23,283. Basic needs cost at least twice that in 615 of America’s cities and regions.
6. Go to college, get out of poverty. In 2012, about 1.1 million people who made less than $25,000 a year, worked full time, and were heads of household had a bachelor’s degree.
7. We’re winning the war on poverty. The number of households with children living on less than $2 a day per person has grown 160 percent since 1996, to 1.65 million families in 2011.
8. The days of old ladies eating cat food are over. The share of elderly single women living in extreme poverty jumped 31 percent from 2011 to 2012.
9. The homeless are drunk street people. One in 45 kids in the United States experiences homelessness each year. In New York City alone, 22,000 children are homeless.
10. Handouts are bankrupting us. In 2012, total welfare funding was 0.47 percent of the federal budget.