You know, finding kink-related Discord servers is, pardon my French, a crapshoot. Especially when you're trying out new kinks.

Admins tend to stick to their own tastes, so each server has a small number of fetishes. But why not make one with multiple admins, each having different tastes? That way members don't have to join many servers to sastisfy all their kinks.

I must admit, the hardest thing to find has been good characters and stories. Let me explain.

My preference is to get acquainted first. Otherwise I feel wretched and awkward about what should be a good time all around.

I know, this is the web; everything's immediate. And who wants to spend time creating a setting beyond "we're sharing a bed"? Who wants to talk for hours when they could be doing other things?

I do. I suspect I'm not the only one.

Not sure if anyone cares, but I made a new Substack post. Kinda feeling my way out of my Christian bubble. Here it is.

Thanks to a new friend, I'm finally speaking up on the dom/sub thing. I want furs to know that love isn't about domination or control.

I lost count of how many guys I've roleplayed with who just want things done to them, which is boring and degrading. I want a partner who's not afraid to touch me and talk to me.

Todd Aldrington is a furry writer I enjoy. His characters have kinks and dom/sub roles, but they discuss those roles and kinks. Never have any of them sat staring dumbly at their boyfriends. Let's face it: that would make for a very dull novel.

Nor are Todd's books all about sex. His protagonists have lives outside the bedroom, making them feel like actual people. In fact, his namesake, Todd the raccoon, comes from a family like mine: large, somewhat religious and with an autistic member, Felix.

You've no idea what it means, seeing a fictional family reflect my own. I think the popular phrase is "I feel seen."

Anyway, I gotta go; my friends want me.

I really hate being lactose intolerant. Because I love ice cream, especially Neapolitan and mint chocolate chip.

Actually, maybe it's more that I have sensitive guts. They don't seem to like spicy food either. Rats. Popcorn just kinda sits there, chillin', until it's flushed out.

In the Honor Harrington novels, treecats can't digest celery, yet it boosts their telepathic powers. Go figure.

Treecats are very interesting. Unlike your standard movie alien, they're hexapedal, live in close-knit tribes and can't speak aloud. They sometimes bond with a human, able to share that person's emotions.

Is it any wonder I prefer sci-fi books to movies?

Incidentally, the father of modern science fiction was an autistic man. Hardly surprising. If you're curious, look up Hugo Gernsback.

I wonder what Adam and Eve's relationships with animals were like. Maybe they had a form or telepathy and/or empathy. Perhaps that capacity lies dormant in the human brain.

Sometimes a song comes close to perfection, By Grace being one of them.

I gotta admit, bad grammar bugs me. I know: some writers are content just to write one draft and put it online...but hopefully, some aren't. Maybe they'd like someone to proofread their work? Someone like, I dunno, me?

Yeah, kind of a shame FA doesn't allow attachments to notes, but we can work something out. Google Docs, anyone?

It's just a thought.

I subscribe to a blog called Old Man Talks, which dispenses pearls of wisdom. One of them was, "you're not an introvert; you just want to be around intelligent people." Right but wrong.

I'm an introvert who covets the company of thinking people. I do need my alone time, but I want to engage in productive dialog.

My goal isn't to persuade or convert anyone; instead, I want to exchange ideas and express my feelings. That can't happen when one side is pre-convinced that their ideas, opinions and "truths" are absolutely right, no question.

Worse still are those convinced that said truths aren't theirs, but God's.

God wants me to vote Republican. God wants me to hate all forms of extramarital sex. And so on.

Jesus never endorsed a political party; his friend Mary Magdalen was a prostitute. How does that square with evangelical doctrine? It does not.

I checked out a Star Trek book, Crossover. Spock delivers its premise when he says that a complex system (whether the Romulan Empire or Christianity) must change, or it will die. Here's a Vulcan not too proud to live among, teach and learn from his "enemies"!

He may not be a Christian, but I think Jesus is very fond of Mr. Spock.

---

It's Halloween, a holiday that's been juggled between Christians and pagans while being enjoyed by atheists the world over. That's wonderful. For myself, I see it as a chance to thumb my nose at death and celebrate life.

I'm going to try my damnedest to get along with my Christian friends and family...but it's hard. I wish they'd put down the shield of rightness for one moment.

I'm so very lonely, especially at home.

I admit it: I'm obsessed with FFVII: Advent Children and what it means to me as a Christian. So I just wrote a second essay on how rain represents grace and so on. I set the permissions so anyone can comment.

Regarding the movie itself, I think it hits the sweet spot between realism and fantasy. The characters and landscapes could exist, but you wouldn't expect Cait Sith to stroll down Main Street. (Then again, we are furries.) I was never pulled out of the story thinking, "that doesn't look right."

I want to research Japanese mythology to better understand where the filmmakers are coming from. Why do the demon-posessed have gray hair? Does the Lifestream come from Shintoism? Does the name Shinra have any special meaning?

I don't know; I just know a trip to the library is in order.

I just got a new tablet from Walmart. The old one's case is cracked and the touchscreen spazzes out every so often.

So now I wonder, how can I have internet and still be bored?

Well, honestly it all comes down to a lack of real-world experience. I haven't held a job, voted or been on a single date. I'm one of those Christians who wait their whole lives for a call that never comes.

What if we're wrong and God wants us to decide our own fate? Suppose the call is just a tactic to keep our butts in the pews forever, not sinning but also not living.

I hope the habit of passivity can be broken.

In other news, I came out to Mom. After a worrying wait, she told me I'm always welcome. Which is great, but I still don't know Dad's reaction. Plus I want to go abroad and eventually find my own place.

I don't want to die surrounded by conservative old ladies who never change their views; I wanna live!

I've been using Substack for awhile now. It's a decent blogging platform, whatever the brass want to call it. Here's my profile.

I'm not really comfortable with self-promotion, but I figure this is more "promoting my ideas". I don't want to pay-wall anything, though I might set up a separate thing (PayPal, Ko-Fi, etc.) so readers can leave a tip. The best writers (or so I'm told) don't make writing their main job.

Speaking of jobs: it's pretty daunting, to think of searching multiple sites and competing with millions of applicants. Surely there's an easier way to find local jobs?

Thinking of naming my blog Otter's Notes as a nod to my character Amergin; what do y'all think?

My latest post is just me musing about Shadow of the Colossus, an obscure game that somehow got remade (or remastered) twice. It's a very unsettling tale of a young man trying to cheat death by causing more death that inspired two of my favorite songs: "Giants Fall" by Miracle of Sound and "Mountain Roar" by NerdOut.

A dangerous road
The sound of a mountain roar
I wander alone
Fighting an empty war!
I did it for you! I did it for you.

I don't want to wander alone.

Wrote the first meeting of AoE. Going to the library tomorrow to type it. (It's a long story.)

I wanna tell you a story, one that's not finished yet.

After the rape, I was looking for something to cling to. I found fur, in the form of a dating site. Unfortunately, I also quit the modding site I'd been frequenting, The Elder Scrolls Alliance. So here I was, absorbed in a new world full of porn and propaganda.

I kept feeling out of place, at home in neither my church or among furs. More recently, the Life is Strange games came out, followed by Tell Me Why.

The latter made me uneasy. What was left unsaid about gender transition? Why does it all boil down to a choice of which version of events to accept?

I just realized I can't remember the names of its protagonists. Ironically, much of Tell Me Why is framed as a fairy tale: the characters are secondary to the lesson. In this case, you can be whatever you want; reality is what you make of it.

I wishlisted When Harry Became Sally awhile back; I got it today. And what it says about the trans agenda isn't flattering.

Trans children are considered a top priority; if a girl is uspet that a boy is allowed in her dressing room, that's her problem. If parents aren't on board, their children can be kidnapped and brought to a place that provides "gender-affirming care".

I was "Baker Acted" to hospital when I put my head down in school. I know first-hand how scary it is to be abducted by those saying they're on your side. And I was experiencing delusions about being female.

Tell Me Why glosses over all this to tell the story of a girl who "successfully" became a guy and returned to her home. The mother is cast as a villain who refuses to accept the new reality; the father is conveniently absent. I literally remember more of the plot to this game than the characters.

There is, naturally, a Christian couple who thinks the "boy" should go to conversion therapy. Naturally, they're proven wrong.

Those are stereotyoes and strawmen, not characters.

---

Trans activists' claims aren't aren't based in reality or science. Often, transition makes gender dysphoria worse, not better, and transitioning is presented as the only option.

I was lucky: my doctors didn't believe I was really a girl, and they found a physical cause for (some of) my issues. My classmates wrote get-well letters. I shudder to think of being dumped in a "mainstream" high school, lost in the crowd as my symptoms worsened.

Due to my experience, I believe demons are real and causing chaos in society. That may help explain the trans activists' contradictory claims. Your "gender identity" is fixed, except when it's fluid. You can determine reality, but you must enforce it on others with the fervor of a cultist; their views are invalid.

I can hear the song playing now: "Let it all burn down around us... Let the world shatter... Nothing else matters, only us." I believe the word I'm looking for is nihilism.

"I Yearn to Belong"

Why? Why are the best qualities (patience, kindness, empathy, etc) attributed to women? Why are men expected to be dumb, angry and emotionally stunted? "Bretheren, these things should not be."

If I want to be female, it's not thanks to a "trans identity". It's because I was raised by women. Because I strive to be, as Matthias of Redwall said, good, gentle and honest.

That's why I keep wishing for breasts. Why I'm more attached to my female characters. Hell, maybe it's why I made Lars and Layle cripples: because as a guy, I feel crippled.

But those traits don't belong to either gender. God gave them to us all. It's not a stretch to picture "Him" as a chakat: having the best traits of both sexes. The strength of a man, the empathy of a woman.

So yeah, the kat's outta the bag. I'd like to be a girl; I'd like even better to be accepted as a man.

I just acquired and devoured a book about the debate between gays and Christians (Torn by Justin Lee, if you're curious). The author formed a group for gay Christians and their supporters, which I joined.

Here's what I don't get. There's a forum called Queer Joy.

How is a queer person's joy different from other people's? Aren't we all equally human?

In fact, I don't feel like my "identity" is tied solely to my sexuality. Who I feel attracted to is, as it were, a small thread in a big tapestry. I don't want to spend all day being 'affirmed' for something so minor. It's honestly a bit degrading, perhaps even disgusting.

I enjoyed the book. Maybe I'll make some friends at this "Queer Christian Fellowship". (Why does everything involving Christians become a 'fellowship'? That's just silly.) But I'm not just gay; I'm a whole person. I was aware of myself long before I became aware of my attractions. I know of several pleasures that don't involve sex, like reading, talking to my friends or sitting by a fire.

I don't want to be reduced to simplistic labels like gay, Christian or queer; I want to be loved for all of me.

The other day I was in the Gamer's Hut and spotted a Star Wars comic for just $5, so I picked it up. Wish I'd seen the warning signs.

One, there were several copies. Two, it has the Marvel logo, not the Dark Horse logo. Also, I guess if it were vintage they'd have asked more for it.

Lando has a neat premise: Lando Calrissian and co. board a yacht, there to steal priceless artifacts. Little do they know, the yacht belongs to Emperor Palpatine and is guarded by his agents.

But you see, this is Disney we're talking about. Not only are there ads disrupting the story; it has the most trite conclusion possible. As Lobot dies in Lando's arms, overcome by his implants, a recording plays. This being Disney, of course it tells him to change his ways and join a larger cause. It doesn't say "the Rebellion," but we all know that's what it implies.

I wanted to learn more of Lando's exploits, maybe even his "little maneuver" that qualified him to lead the assault on Death Star 2. Or a heist with Han at his side, or how he and Han met. Something besides the standard "use your talents for good" spiel we already heard in Solo.

Guess it's time to start collecting EU novels.

I don't feel right in my skin. I'm too sensitive; it's like I can feel everything, inside and out. When I eat the wrong food, it clumps in my intestines, causing pain and discomfort. (Dairy and baked goods are the prime suspects.)

I have very little self-confidence. The slightest praise lifts my spirits...for a moment. (Maybe that's why some furs live for being called a good boy.) Apparently, autism causes a shortage of dopamine, leading to a constant need for stimulation. Who knows; maybe the Fire Chief in Fahrenheit 451 is autistic. Or maybe I just love that book.

It's a strange feeling: the desire for intellectual stimulation warring with the physical impulse to touch, be touched and (if I'm lucky) someday make love. (I like that phrase better than "have sex" or worse, "fuck").

Am I lucky to have grown up around books? But that just makes me lonely because nobody has the time to read, let alone discuss books with me.

Growing up, I was "the quiet kid". The one who never had the courage (or the social skills) to make friends. I just met a girl whose strategy is to talk or "yap" until someone talks back. Alas, nobody did that to me back when.

I hated gym, though Coach was okay. His favorite game was dodgeball, which to me felt like going to war. He called me Skywalker on account of my long legs.

Perhaps my biggest mistake was skipping sex ed. It might've helped to know why the other kids were so crazy, or what those strange sensations were. As it is, I'm still a bit in awe of women. Am I gay or just afraid to make lady friends? What do I say to them?

On another note, the Critical Drinker is an idiot. Just because he prefers macho men doesn't mean we all have to conform to his image.

Well, I feel better for having vented. Now to figure out how to do it aloud.

At last, YouTube delivers some good news: people are leaving the left and right for the center, i.e. thinking for themselves. Because if you agree with "your people"on everything, you're not really thinking.

I don't think porn is evil; I think it's misused. It should supplement, not replace, a healthy sex life. It should never be a secret between partners. It shouldn't be consumed alone. But if I defaulted to my youth pastor's stance, I'd be raving about how porn destroys marriages and seduces young minds away from the truth. It can, but it doesn't have to.

My stance is that anything good can be twisted. Including sex, which is normal, healthy and nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, we should start having the right conversations about it, with all sides contributing.

So I'm glad the two-party system still has a bit of wiggle room, and that the young are finding it. If someone agrees with you on everything...run.

https://youtu.be/igdg8KJp6KM?si=W2VNJ06iFu2XQz82

Ya know how someone's always creating "holidays" for various things? Well, this being 10/4, I'm declaring it National Police Day. So go thank a cop or somethin'.

I once got up late for a field trip and had the school resource office drive me in his squad car. So I got to see National Treasure instead of moping around campus all day. Thanks, Offcer.

I feel like there's a whole kink nobody talks about: mindlessness. You know: just be a good boy; all the horrific stuff doesn't matter. Just bark and drool for your master. It's a huge turn-off for me.

I was raised on classic literature like the tales of King Arthur. I was yanked into public school, confronted with a mass of kids packed in like sardines. In my mind, everyone wanted me to have sex. It came to a head with my being raped in 2010.

So excuse me if I dislike the idea of turning my mind off, or treating a fellow human being like a pet.

I value my intellect; the paranoid delusions I suffered were an attack on same. Maybe those furs who like "being a good boy" never experienced such an attack. I hope they never do.

So...Mousen. She first appeared in my version of Aesop's "The Lion and the Mouse," and evolved into a cheerful, outgoing young woman who nonetheless is always ready for a fight. She was partly inspired by Nimbalo the Slayer in Taggerung.

Like Nimbalo, Mousen had an abusive father.

Part of why I hate going to church stems from my own childhood.

I've always had a narrow waist, making it hard to get my pants to stay up. Which is a problem when you have to look good for church. So what to do? Why, cinch the belt painfully tight, of course.

I guess I'm lucky not to have been born female; who knows what else would've been bound up.

It's not fair. Because of religion, I've been denied my first date and my first kiss. I've had to rely on internet hookups instead of a normal, healthy sex life.

I just want to break free. Yet here I am, staying with the grandma who passed her religion on to Dad. Again. When does it fucking stop? Is this a generational curse?

Remember how I said I was worried about my flags? Well, they're hanging by my bed now. Eulalia!

I've been avoiding the gathering, a.k.a my home church, for months. But Mom said, "At least come to dinner." So with some hesitation I did.

The gathering was started by my friend Bill, a singer-songwriter. (His songs "Don't You Know" and "Still" are incredible.) Bill recently died of cancer, still trying to tell everyone about Jesus.

I was going to read him American Wolf, the story of my hero O-Six. Guess that'll have to wait.

So I went back last night. I sang Miracle of Sound's "Open Air". (We learn the outside; there's hope out here.) We talked into the night; Bill's widow said how glad she was to see me.

And I got my flags back: my gorgeous blue silk flags in their hand-sewn case.

I may have trouble speaking, but I have no problem using those babies. Talk about body language.

It's funny: after the concert someone said, "It's good to see a man using flags." But gender has nothing to do with it. I use them because, well, to borrow a phrase: they help me perform the earth-dance. When I'm holding a flag or a staff, I feel whole.

I dunno; maybe it's an "auter" thing.

This week's Thursday Prompt was hard, but rewarding. I thought of my "uncle" Cecil, who lived with my family for awhile. He was a truly good man who lit up the room. His pain (he was on dialysis) made him kinder, not bitter.

As usual, I wrote the first draft on paper. I might be awhile typing it up; bear with me. (I know you will.)

Our meeting was providential. I'd come from an area rife with black gangsters; were it not for this sweet, kind black man I might have become a racist.

But when you 're young, all you know is that Uncle Cecil sees you, smiles and booms, "My joy!" That's what he always called me. I didn't have to get good grades or look my best; I was (and am) his joy. And I believe deep down that that's how God sees us: as kids who just need someone to love them.

We usually tell the dead to rest in peace. I want Cecil to run and dance and do the things he'd do in his youth. I want to dance with him.

Let me close with a few lines from Brian Jacques.

There you'll wait, O my beloved
Never knowing want or care
And when I have seen my seasons
We will walk together there.

"Farewell", Pearls of Lutra

I really need to keep my ambition in check.

Yeah, the concert was fun, but I'm not Paul Wilbur. I don't need to run a global ministry. He is an extrovert, I an introvert. That's perfectly fine.

Aragorn would never have won without the plain hobbit-sense and humility of Samwise, the guy who only wanted to tend his garden and marry Rosie Cotton.

I think what Tolkien was trying to say was: every part is needed, large and small, and the older Rankin-Bass cartoon conveyed the point beautifully. "Less can be more, and small can be beautiful."

At the end of the show, Wilbur urged us all to put on a Star of David pin. Dad and I declined. We're not ones to make loud public declarations. And that's fine too.

I really miss that cartoon. It deserves to be every bit as famous as the Jackson version, but like Sam, it's remained small and humble. Keep your eyes open.

You know, technically "in concert" means together. That's kind of how tonight's Paul Wilbur concert went.

Before the music started, there was prayer. I, being the ottistic person I am, was impatient to get to the fun part. Which in due time we did.

Now it's an open secret that I love flags. I love how free waving them makes me feel, how coordinated. I don't know if it's God or my nervous system, but I always enjoy waving flags.

So imagine my delight to find several just sitting on a table.

I grabbed the green flag, that being my favorite color. It had a nice long handle, so I could do a lot with it. On an impulse I took off my shoes and danced in my socks.

If you know anything about Paul Wilbur, you know his songs are joyous. High-energy, perfect for dancing. He even sang my favorite, "Song of Ezekiel". (Breath of God from the four winds blow...)

I think a lot. Constantly. But when I'm holding a flag, I stop. I just move. It's wonderful.

Unfortunately, they broke up the music to have someone preach. It was a good message, but I wasn't ready to stop. Long story short, I got pulled aside. Can't have flags near the preacher.

The guy was nice about it, and Mr. Wilbur himself noticed me. After the show, I talked to him and sang a bit of "Everything's Alright". He said it sounded like a prayer and told me, "Keep on singing."

Well, at the end of the show he surprised me with one last song. Dad grabbed the flag and I danced again; I couldn't help but yell "eulalia" (victory).

Know what that preacher said? Relationship is important, especially with people unlike you. He mentioned the LGBT community. I could hardly believe it.

Is the church starting to straighten itself out? Might Area of Effect play a part? Maybe this is the divine plan I stopped believing in.

I don't know; I'm just some guy. A guy longing for life to make sense. I asked Mom, tears in my eyes, if my own flags survived the fire. My beautiful flags that look like water. She said they're fine; I can't describe my relief.

Do you think someday we'll see Christian artists perform at furry conventions? I hope so.

This concept's been bouncing around in my head for some time. I want to put it out there.

Area of Effect is a group of friends from all walks of life, species and orientations. Its name comes from "area of effect" skills in video games, the idea being to "widen your circle of friends".

I see AoE as an anthology, since I can't represent every viewpoint myself.

One of the main characters is AJ, a coyote who's been thrown out of his church for his "radical" views. Also, I suspect, for being trans in a town not quite ready for trans people. (Yes, he is somewhat of a self-insert. No, I'm not sorry.)

Several books have influenced my thinking, including Sara Miles' "Take This Bread", Chris Steadman's "Faitheist" and Brennan Manning's "Ragamuffin Gospel". Also, that one song from the Land Before Time movies: "we need all sorts to make a world."

I'd like to dedicate this project to two special friends: the late Cecil Roberts and "Friar" Don Swearingen. The first AoE story is in the works.

God bless.