Imagine a species that doesn’t really touch each other. They’ll do it if necessary, but they don’t high five, don’t shake hands, don’t hug— not even their young.
And then two members of this species adopt a human baby and a doctor explains to them “it’s very important that you touch it a lot. You’ve probably only met human adults before and they don’t touch each other much-” (the Grycen couple shoot each other a glance— all the humans they’ve met seem to be constantly holding hands, leaning against each other or even pressing their mouth parts together— apparently it’s called ‘kissing’ and it seems very unhygienic) “but with human infants you have to touch them a lot, otherwise it’s really bad for them.”
So of course the Grycen want to do everything they can for their new little younglet, so they start spending a few moon cycles (their moon taking about one and a half human hours to go around their planet) each day just stroking their kid— like you would a cat. It feels nice actually, once you get past how weird it is. Humans might call themselves 'naked apes’, but they’re actually covered in a very fine layer of hair, it’s almost invisible when they’re young, that feels wonderfully smooth when you run your paws over their limbs and back. The thicker hair that starts to grow a few months in (the doctor says it’s perfectly normal) feels softer— more like the thick hair that runs over the Grycen’s bodies.
Soon one of the Gryce parents, whose job often means they have to interact with humans, finds that they have to stop themselves from stroking their coworkers as well.
Even when the kid is past the age where touching is vital, her parents will occasionally find themselves stroking her absentmindedly— though now they’re often met with a cry of “ stop it! You’re messing up my hair!” Except when she’s upset or ill, that is. Then, for some reason, she’s fine with it.
Later on, the kid meets more humans and, eventually, falls in love. She and her boyfriend have a baby, a little boy, and the boyfriend is always kind of confused when he catches his girlfriend standing over their son’s crib, stroking him like you would a cat.
because somebody said “write it” when i said this.
“I’m not the princess,” Liza told the first man who informed her, shocked, how she had the green eyes of the royal family and hair as dark as the late queen’s. She had been joking, of course, pretending to take him seriously as she counted out his change. No one had accused her of being the princess in the first place. Princess Aliara, the last of the royal line of Adamar, had drowned in the Silver Sea ten summers ago. Everyone knew that.
“I’m not the princess,” Liza told the old woman, the princess’s childhood nurse, who clutched her hands to her chest the moment she fell off her horse in the castle courtyard. She didn’t want any more confusion than there already was.
There were silver streaks in the woman’s hair and tears in her eyes. “It’s you,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard.
“No,” Liza explained, already impatient. “It’s not me. I’m not her.” It was what she had told the royal minister who had been fetched by the man in the shop last week at least seven times by now, but he’d insisted that the other royal ministers had to see her, had to see if she was real, and wouldn’t leave the shop.
“I’m real,” she’d said. “Really annoyed.”
The man’s eyes had filled with tears. That seemed to be happening a lot around her recently. “You sounds just like you did when you were little.”
Liza threw up her hands and told anyone who would listen that this man hadn’t known her when she was a little girl growing up in a costal town far away, but finding out she had lived in some proximity to the Silver Sea only sent everyone into more of a frenzy. In the end she agreed to come, if only because the royal minster would take care of the cost, and the capital city had a real library to visit.
“I’m not the princess, though,” she reminded all the minister’s servants when they bobbed curtsies to her. “Just to be clear.”
“I’m not the princess,” Liza told Kara, the girl who had claimed the right to interrogate her first. She was the lost princess’s best friend, or something, and she’d said she was the only one who could possibly tell if this so-called princess was an impostor.
Kara scoffed, hands on her hips and her eyes mistrustful. “Of course you’re not, kid. No one who claims to be Liara is. She’s dead.” But her voice sounded a little more uncertain with each word as she looked Liza over. “So what’s your excuse? What’s your made up story for how you’ve suddenly regained your lost memory and remembered you’re a princess, or whatever?”
Liza glanced around at all the court watching her, still bewildered as to how she was being interrogated as a possible impostor when she’d never claimed to be anyone in the first place, and finally repeated what she’d been saying all day. “My name is Liza. I’m a baker. My parents were bakers before they died. They were not the king and queen. I am not the princess. Can I go to the library now?”
The room filled with deliberating murmurs rather than answers, and Liza leaned back in her seat with a groan.
“I’ll give you credit,” Kara said, sounding as if she’d rather do anything else, “you really do look like her.”
“I’m not her,” Liza said, as if repeating it for the hundredth time would make Kara finally believe she wasn’t trying to pretend she was. As if saying it a thousand more times would make half the royal ministers stop thinking she really was.
She wasn’t allowed to go home, not until they’d come to a consensus on her princess-related status. “I’m a prisoner,” she yelled at Alder, the most annoying of the ministers.
“You’re home,” he’d responded fondly, and she’d screamed in a very un-princesslike manner and gone to find Kara, who at least wouldn’t keep asking her if she remember so-and-so-’s name, or how she had tripped on that step and sprained her ankle when she was six.
“When I was six I was frolicking happily on a beach somewhere on the southern coast,” she told Kara crankily. “Not cooped up in this castle.”
Kara laughed derisively. “Oh, honey. Liara’s ship sank near the eastern coast. You don’t even have your story straight.”
But despite Kara’s firm belief that Liza was a liar and a pretender, Liza sensed that her laughter was becoming warmer, and she directed more snide comments at the ministers than she did at Liza. Perhaps, Liza even dared to think, Kara was starting to like her.
Kara noticed that she was being stared at, and half-smiled back. “Don’t be offended. You’re almost as bad of a liar as she was, too. That’s actually a point in your favor.”
Liza rolled her eyes and tugged at Kara’s sleeve to pull her closer. “Show me the way to the library again. I get lost in the halls every time I try to go without you.”
“They say true royalty isn’t capable of being lost in the royal palace.”
“Tell that to the ministers.”
“I’m not the princess,” she said automatically, before she’d processed the boy standing in front of her. He was supposed to be the princess’s illegitimately-born cousin, or something. One way or another, he was one of those next in line for the throne if the princess did not magically turn up sometime soon (which she wouldn’t, because she was dead).
“He’d do a rotten job,” Kara had said, curling her lip, when they’d seen him march through the front hall from their little alcove in the balcony. “He can’t be king.”
“Why do you care?” Liza asked, trying to sneak a peak at Kara’s cards.
She pulled her cards away and whacked Liza’s arm lightly with them. “I’m engaged to the throne, silly. The real princess would know that.” But that last sentence was an afterthought. She’d almost entirely stopped accusing Liza of pretending, recently. “And I won’t marry Henry. He makes fun of anyone once their back is turned, and he spreads rumors about whatever he likes, and once he kicked Liara’s puppy because it was in his way.”
“That sounds like an exaggeration.”
Kara shook her head, looking almost grim. This clearly wasn’t one of her jokes. “No. Liara was so angry she threw her shoe at him. Hit him in the head, hard. He was bleeding. It was a big scandal that she would hurt her own cousin, everyone rushed to cover it up with a story about how he fell and hit his head.”
“I take it they didn’t get along?” Now she was worried. If Henry wanted to be king, what would he do to Liara? What would he do to her, if he believed she was the princess? “Is he dangerous?”
“Don’t worry, Liza. I’ll protect you.” She was kidding, her brown eyes soft, but Liza felt a little safer anyway.
“I know you’re not,” Henry sneered, and walked past her.
Kara gripped her hand, which was all that kept Liza from running after him to yell about just how many people were pretty sure she was, and how he was a rude, terrible person who would never marry Kara because she wouldn’t allow it, and how someone who kicked puppies was not fit to look at the throne, let alone sit in it, and how, also, he smelled.
He didn’t, but it would have been nice to tell him that. She almost didn’t let Kara pull her away.
“I’m not the princess,” Liza said when Alder asked yet again for another retelling of how she’d come to be a baker in a small town far from the castle. She was too tired to go through it again, too frustrated with all these dithering people too scared of having to work out the convoluted succession of a throne that had no obvious heir to accept that their princess wasn’t there to solve the problem.
She was not, however, too tired to notice Henry’s small victorious smile as he sat in the back of the room and listened. Everyone knew that the one year in which the royal throne could remain empty in the wake of the king and queen’s deaths was drawing to a close. An heir would have to be announced soon.
If it wasn’t Aliara— wasn’t Liza— it was almost certainly Henry.
After the horrible, boring meeting was over, she found Kara in the library and bunched up next to her in the window seat too small for two people. “Tell me about the princess,” she said, and Kara complied, because they were both coming to wish, like the ministers, that she was there.
One year after the queen of Adamar had passed away with her daughter’s name on her lips, the royal ministers met in the throne room. Liza had denied being the princess to the very last. There was nothing else for it but to declare the heir to the kingdom.
Henry hadn’t stopped smirking since he’d received the message asking him to attend that morning. Kara watched him with a blank face but a sick stomach, thinking how she would never sit on a throne next to his— thinking about running away, grabbing Liza’s hand and running with her back to the beach far from where the princess had died.
It wasn’t fantasy. It was a concrete plan. She had the horses waiting. She felt herself calming as Alder called everyone to attention, knowing that even if they could do nothing for Adamar once Henry was king, at least they could do this.
And then Aliara walked into the room.
No, she glided into the room. She swept in so like a ghost that half the company spooked or flinched, but she was very, very real. She had the green eyes of the royal lineage. She had dark hair braided over her shoulder the exact way the queen used to wear it. She had a smile that was almost, almost smug.
“Please,” Liza said, sweeping a curtsey and lifting her eyes to the sunlight falling through the high glass windows as if she could look any more perfectly innocent. “I must beg your forgiveness. I have been a coward to insist for so long that I could not remember my childhood here, when I have never forgotten my true self. I thought I could bear the shame of never coming forward. I even convinced myself it would be better for Adamar to have my dear cousin as king.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, Henry, for pretending not to know you, and almost letting this burden fall on your shoulders. But I have seen the light in time. I am here, Alder. I am the princess.”
Henry went pale with fury, meeting her halfway across the wide floor of the throne room and catching her arm so she could not approach the throne.
“Don’t you dare,” he snarled. “We both know you’re a liar. Everyone else will soon realize to. Don’t bother trying to pull it off.”
She yanked her arm back so hard that he was almost unbalanced and fixed him with a glare that had no princess in it and all of the fire she used to pump in her huge ovens at the bakery. “Don’t cross me, cousin. Or do you need me to throw another shoe at your head?”
He faltered just long enough for her to walk past, head held high, and up to the dais. “Come here with the crown, Alder. Careful on the steps. I tripped on them when I was six, you know.”
She raised an eyebrow, indicating with one hand that there was no one else on the dais with her. “I’m not the princess. I’m the queen.”
“I’m sorry,” she told Kara, late that night. It had been a very long day, and her head ached from the weight of the crown, and she only wanted to go to sleep, and she didn’t know if Kara was angry, and didn’t want her to be.
“I’m the one who needs to apologize,” Kara said, stepping closer, reaching out for her hands.
“For my false accusations over the past year, of course,” she said with a straight face. “I don’t know how I didn’t recognize you from the beginning.”
“The princess,” the new queen said, unable to figure out full sentences as Kara pulled them closer together, gently pushing strands of her hair back.
Sometimes I really hate being Disabled In Public. Like…. there’s a definitive difference between being disabled and in public and Disabled In Public, and it’s hard to articulate to people who don’t have to experience this phenomenon. Like, yesterday I was at the airport, flying home for summer break. I’m sitting in my wheelchair at the gate, waiting to pre-board, and the gate check woman comes up to me, bends down and puts her hands on her knees, and says, “Gosh! You’re so independent!” I’m 23 years old, I live on my own across the country, and I’m a fucking adult out in public. Yes. I’m independent. How kind of you to notice.
And this happens all the time! I’m fine with people complementing my canes, or the flowers on my chair in passing, but coming up to me, speaking down to me, infantilizing me…. it’s all part of being Disabled In Public. The second I’m out in public I become some sort of attraction to able bodied people. Walking (or rolling) clickbait. And none of my able-bodied friends or family quite understand why I get so frustrated, or why I snap at people.
I was at the mall with my dad yesterday, in my wheelchair, and at least three people stopped me to complement my wheelchair. Which is fine. Except for the third woman, who said in some sort of weird baby talk, “Aw, who did that for you? That was so nice of them!” Uh…. I did that myself. Because, again, I am an adult.
And after this my dad goes, “Gosh, does this happen all the time? It must be so annoying…” to which I’m about to be delighted, before he continues, “…but you’re kind of asking for it by decorating your chair.”
No, I’m not asking for it. I’m accessorizing. People don’t stop everyone else on the street to infantilize them for their accessories. It only happens when you’re Disabled In Public.
And I didn’t really mean to write some kind of essay on the subject, but honestly. Why can’t people leave us alone? I’m not a child, I’m not inspiration porn, I’m just a fucking person out in the world trying to live my fucking life without random people interrupting me to make me feel awkward and singled out and Disabled.
Guys I just came to the realization that within a whole century everyone on the starblaster must have clogged the toilet at least once and their separate reactions probably ranged from quiet panic to open pride.
Stiles:There’s a party tonight at Lydia’s, you want to come with me?
You stared at the text from your best friend, sighing in defeat as you quickly typed a reply, “No.” You knew what would happen if you went to the party with him, he’d spend the first ten minutes joking and laughing with you, then he’d see Malia at the other side of the room, shuffle nervously on his feet as he glanced from you to her and that’d make you roll yours eyes and tell him to ‘go on over to her’. He’d smile, pat you on the back and wander off for the rest of the night; leaving you by yourself.
That’s what it is like now a days, you left alone whilst he ran around with the werecoyote that rudely interrupted your five year plan. You made a plan when you were thirteen, a plan that would make Stiles Stilinski, your best friend, fall in love with you and it was working; god, it was working great until she entered his life. Maybe it was meant to be, maybe you were only meant to be best friends forever.
<b><p></b> <b>Daddy:</b> Princess, Daddy's friend is going to come over, is that okay?<p/><b>me:</b> *looks down at my tutu and hello kitty socks* Should I be a big girl daddy?<p/><b>Daddy:</b> *twirls my pigtails* Only if you want to princess,<p/><b>me:</b> you don't think your friend will think I'm weird?<p/><b>Daddy:</b> *smirks* Aw baby, everyone thinks you're weird.<p/><b>me:</b> -.- *smacks him with a stuffie*<p/></p><p/></p>
Ever wonder what kind of lovers the main four would be?
★ Doesn’t go into a relationship unless he is absolutely sure that he’s in love and that the person he loves, loves him back.
★ Painfully shy in the beginning. Don’t even dare to hold hands in public.
★ Kisses are always quick and hidden (In some corners or in the darkness of the night) leaving both wanting more.
★ Will be a super gentleman in the beginning but as you get closer to each other, you start to see the real him. (Which he unconsciously shows and didn’t know until someone pointed it out)
★ Will listen to all your problems even if he’s drowning in his own.
★ Will be surprised when you tell him that you want to listen to his problems too.
★ Keep you ten thousands of feet away from Cross. He ain’t going to let his master get his hands on you.
★ Rarely ever gets jealous or possessive but literally will not allow you to be alone with certain people (ie…Kanda, Tyki…and he’s considering adding Road to the list -Remembers Road tore his eye out- Yep, Roads on the blacklist too) and gets irritated when someone gets handsy with you.
★ Will beat himself up if he ever forgotten an important date or anniversaries. But will go through lengths to make up for it.
★ Will constantly remind you that he’s lucky to have you in his life.
★ Will probably be the first of the four to propose unless the 14th was starting to awaken which he will probably distance himself until you confront him that you will love him no matter what. He breaks down crying.
★ Will protect you even if it costs him his life.
♣ (…clubs because he will probably club you if he’s mad? Get it? No? Ok…Jokes over)
♣ Mr. Quick to Anger but Slow to Everything Else…including his feelings. He won’t notice that he’s in love until someone screams it in his face and even then, he would take forever to confess.
♣ Not big on physical affection. Imagine that you want to hold hands with him on your date? Forget it. Hug him in public? Do you even care for your life?
♣ He will be irritatingly shy and hide it in irritating ways until he realised that he hurt your feelings and will relent only for a bit. (Here. Give me your hand.)
♣ Kisses with him are steamy like the sauna, especially when you two are alone. He’s pretty rough and you can practically feel the passion of his love. Dizziness and out of breath by the end of it.
♣ He’s still acts the same even though he’s in love but you can spot out the differences that came in small cues. Like his concern for you or allowing you to stay by his side even when he’s meditating.
♣ Silently grunts as you rants to show that he’s listening (even when he’s methodically cleaning Mugen) but he has a limit for these kind of things. He’ll probably need 24 hours of silence to get his mood back to normal again.
♣ But if you’re silently suffering or in pain, he would silently show you he care by lending a shoulder.
♣ Rarely ever share his problems. But will feel grateful when you trust him enough to let him be and come to you on his own terms.
♣ Possessive as f…k (can I say that?) Hands itching to get Mugen when guys/girls get too friendly with you.
♣ Will probably forget important birthdays and anniversaries. And when that happens he will be teased and insulted by Lavi and Allen (and Mugen is unleashed!). But will casually make up for it with surprises and silent apologies.
♣ Grateful that you’re in his life but will never tell you that.
♣ Will be the last to propose. He literally never think about marriage unless you poke at him.
♣ Will throw himself in danger to protect you but will train you to make sure that you can handle yourself in the future. (Prepare for a world of pain…ahem…I mean training)