#people just have to make those mistakes themselves

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: Online Siren

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.

They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.

Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.

The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.

"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.

"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."

"What?"

"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."

Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"

"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.

"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"

The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.

The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!

It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.

"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."

"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.

"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"

His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."

"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."

"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.

Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.

He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.

"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."

Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.

They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.

He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.

So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"

Jazz's smile is bright.

________________________________________________________

A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.

"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"

"Sorry again Tim!"

"You're fat anyway, Drake!"

Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"

"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."

"Online Siren?"

"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."

Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."

"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.

Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.

Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.

It sends shivers down his spine.

"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.

"I know, right!?"

"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"

Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.

"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.

"Mind control! Mind control!"

"My EYES! "

"Drake, stop!"

"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"

".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"

"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"

[howlingday]

Ruby: You don't get it! I didn't just fail! People died! And everyone else who didn't die was put in danger! It's all my fault because I made the stupid mistake of making the plan!

Ruby: I should have d-

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Ruby: (Blinks) Jaune...?

Jaune: You fucked up! I get it! Believe me, nobody knows that feeling better than me! Too many people died when you were gonna protect them, and I totally get that, too! But if you think you can just sit there and wish you were dead, then you've forgotten who the hell you're talking to!

Jaune: People died, Ruby. Too many people we can ever allow, but there's still so many still alive. And you're one of those people!

Jaune: You feel like shit? GOOD! Because if you're alive to feel like shit about your mistakes, then you're alive to learn from them and make up for them! Nobody's ever redeemed themselves by dying for a selfish reason!

Jaune: So keep living, Ruby... And don't let me hear you saying something that stupid again. Because if you die without fixing your mistakes, then your team is gonna be really mad at you for it, and then I'm gonna be mad at you for it. And if you're not here for me to be mad at, then... Then...

Ruby: ...Thanks, Jaune.

[apothi-experiences]

I'm so tired of how we're expected to prioritise the comfort of sex favourable people when the opposite is never expected. I get it. You have sex. Good for you. And I'm a no never person so can we please stay on topic? I don't want to give a page long disclaimer every time I talk about my experience. Especially since the reverse is not expected (and no, the allos do know. I've had a few people try reassure me that asexuals can still have sex when I came out to them and a subset of them even expected it by default).

Invalidating the experience of a repulsed person is aphobia. Implying our repulsion couldn't possibly be related to the fact that we find no one sexy because YOU still have sex is aphobia. Reframing the experience of repulsed people because they didn't consider your experience when talking about their own is aphobia. Calling someone a puritan or a child because they have boundaries for themselves (while not trying to control what others do in their own lives) is aphobia. Reducing us to an unwanted stereotype is aphobia. I could go on but these are all things I have experienced multiple times within the asexual community. So many of these directly mirror what allos have always said to invalidate us and try force us to conform. I have even seen that allowing repulsion was a mistake but that was only once so it's not in the above list.

Some asexuals have sex. Good for them. But not every conversation needs to be about that. It does not need to be brought up every time. Stop reassuring allos that asexuals can still have sex when they look for information unless you are also willing to mention the no never folks (i.e instead of just "asexuals can still have sex" include an "but not all want to and you need to respect that boundary if they have it. They don't need to be fixed."). Compulsory sexuality hurts everyone- allo, ace or in between - and the fact that it's entered the asexual community terrifies me. Maybe having to explain to someone that you are still happy to have sex sometimes is uncomfortable but it's a hell of a lot better than them expecting to "fix" you when nothing's broken.

(I was going to end this with a paragraph validating those who have sex to avoid backlash but I'm tired. See paragraph one. This is about the experience of a repulsed person. You can have your own struggles without getting upset when I don't address them when I discuss mine. Maybe some are the opposite but that doesn't make mine any less real.)

(I agree with all of this, I'm not sure how to respond without parroting things ive already said but I do 100% agree. Thankyou for the ask anon)

[witchytakes]

if you believe on ROGD or some kinda of shit the argument is over

some detrans people also go on other trans identity too

using anedotes isn't a very formed argument you know

ok I get your point

I can see why somehow, like I said trans people are walking on eggs, and anyone who desists is like stepping on the egg, like when some trans person does something bad, it's something that gives more anti trans narrative to see someone desisting, it's mainly because most of these speech are anti trans, some like more medical gatekeeping, saying that shouldn't have transition, even tho you lived as a trans person before it's quite a hypocrisy seeing someone speeling like "look what testosterone did to me, trans people shouldn't have hormones" while there's 35+ trans women who were heavily affected by testosterone and didn't say shit like this, if that person thinks cis is a slur is valid, if didn't then you're just another trans identity, in fact it's their fault by making a mistake, if you take Testosterone and now looks maleish you were well adverted by that way, there's so much gatekeeping in the medical industry that I can't simply believe someone is so dumb to not hear their medical professionals and search in the internet, it's a choice they made for themselves and a choice they had to fully have the knowledge to do, it's not like changing clothes, if you started as a minor and got so much changed tho, look at late transitioners, they had the same experience you have, they were well affected by their natal hormones and now HRT wouldn't do as much as would do if they started as minors, the same as for detrans people who started earlier, they are affected by hormones and now the natural hormones aren't thaat efficient anymore, it's a risk the person made and are well aware, at least socially would be the same, like detrans women would looks more simmilar to a late trans women because of the T, just wait 2 years and detransition would revert pretty much if you only took HRT, if it was surgery then all the blame as possible for your mistake, for hormones is a thing, but didn't want to take the blame for surgery is a lot Some Detransitioners never take the blame for their own mistakes and want everyone to fix them for themselves while blaming trans people and I couldn't have empathy for those people The thing is that one side want to get rid of the other side healthcare, while the other doesn't want that, the other pretty much know it's the same healthcare

No hate to the op but I don’t understand the hostility on detransitioned people who did go through a lot of trauma and just want to share their view on how it affected them. A lot of other people could relate and acknowledge that they are making a mistake so I don’t get why they shouldn’t spread awareness since some procedures are irreversible.

Also some detransitioned people did go through it at such a young age and It’s every adult’s fault that they went through multiple medical procedures, so it’s their right to share their part of the story.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

I've got female Sole Survivor on the brain thanks to this Deegan one-shot, especially in relation to her grief at all she's lost at the beginning of the game. This may be a touch controversial.

I see a ton of female Soles (both in fan works as well as in general discussions about lore, roleplay, etc.) who are wracked with survivor's guilt in the aftermath, wrought entirely hollow by the loss of their husband and child. This is not a statement of judgement or me implying that it's a subpar creative choice; it's a very natural conclusion to draw. Losing your entire immediate family, on top of surviving multiple mass-casualty events, would naturally leave you wondering why you lived when others didn't and feeling incomplete without those dearest to you.

Personally, the first time I played Fallout 4, I immediately imagined my own Sole as a woman dealing with an immense amount of guilt for an entirely different reason: she feels relief on more levels than one.

Yes, the world ended and everyone she ever knew or really cared for is long dead. But even the horror of that realization doesn't change the fact that there is a massive weight lifted off of her shoulders when she wakes up in that Vault and realizes that she no longer has to be a wife or mother every single moment of her life. It wasn't something she pictured for herself long-term, but she hadn't realized it until it was far too late; very much the sort of person who agreed to get married and have a child before they fully considered all that it would mean (which isn't an uncommon character flaw). But, between the general state of the world at the time and her own hidden struggles, she was eager to feel like she was doing something meaningful with her life.

Nate was the same. It was one of the only things they'd had in common anymore by the time Shaun was born.

I imagine their marriage was struggling (or perhaps simply not as satisfying as either of them would have liked), and having Shaun was an ill-conceived attempt to save things, to find some sort of renewed enthusiasm or meaning. Of course, having a baby to fix your marriage (or yourself) never works. Pregnancy and labor were rough for her, but postpartum was worse; her husband continued to pull away like he had been before, just at a more agonizing rate.

Pretty immediately after the birth, she recognized she'd made a mistake, felt stupid and childish for making such a life-altering decision based on flimsy justifications. But so many people in her life (parents, in-laws, friends who were already parents themselves, society in general) swore to her that having a child would magically end all of her problems through the sheer power of maternal love that she felt selfish not "putting forth the effort" and trying. No one bothered to clarify, though, that if the old 'baby trick' doesn't fix your life, you're then stuck with an inherently needy little person whose existence you may feel indifferent towards more often than not. That realization had been in the middle of literally crushing her to death when the bombs fell.

She's slowly finding herself again as she goes through various adventures and trials in the Commonwealth, helps build community that feels more like a real family to her. Dips her toes into the dating pool eventually. It's not a straightforward process, though, and some days she feels like an uncaring monster and can't even get out of bed. Others, she functions, but with a visible cloud over her, morose and quiet. A tiny, irrational part of her may even feel that she somehow manifested the war, literally brought forth the end of the world with how ardently she begged for something, anything to take her away from what her life had become towards the end.

Her guilt is tinted with anger and shame. She still has lingering health issues from carrying to full term, and her body is changed in ways she knows she will never recover from. Fixates on the changes she notices and it breeds self-consciousness. Part of that fixation is vanity, sure, but she also knows very well that she likely shaved at least a few years off her life span by choosing to become a mother, an endeavor she wouldn't describe as "personally worthwhile" if pressed hard enough.

She also constantly beats herself up for not searching hard enough for her son, but it's unproductive. No matter how guilty she makes herself feel, she doesn't find many leads. Doesn't bring him or Nate up much, unless she's feeling especially vulnerable (or self-hating). The pity people usually express when she says she lost a spouse/child doesn't feel earned to her.

Part of her says her son is likely dead, having lived his whole life without her, and so she'd be wasting her time by dedicating every waking moment to finding him. She finds both peace and sadness in that idea. Another part of her, though, knows she's dragging her feet, pacifying herself with that thought because she doesn't truly want to find him.

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[katerinaaqu]

Dude it is indeed the perfect combination of raw splatter and horror, psychological thriller and angst all at the same time! Man it definitely is a subject for a horror movie on its own isn't it? Every single one of their adventures was a thriller that could make Stephen King rethink his life I say! ESPECIALLY Polyphemus! (what do you know people ALWAYS loved a good horror story!)

I mean...12 men slowly being reduced to 6, trapped in a cave for days and days while watching helplessly their friends for over 10 years die in such a horrifying way! No epic battles no glorious stuff just men trapped like rats in a trap, like animals in a pen for slaughter, no different than the sheep in Polyphemus's cave. In one DESPERATE attempt to save themselves they follow their leader who for days and days tells them to work on a piece of wood to make a spear with it that MIGHT be their salvation (a spear they make all day long and then they have to hide it when Polyphemus comes in, praying to all the gods they know that he will not find it and destroy everything and go back to work when he is gone (having a dude always on the watch to tell them when he is coming so that they would quickly hide their only weapon of salvation!)

And then they actually have to see what their leader would do and then wait for the next day to see IF they would get past him! Oh and they had to do all that while staring at the traces of blood brains and bones on the floor because nowhere in the Odyssey does it say that Polyphemus mopped the floor after the kill! So yeah...

Dude no wonder they all broke each with their own way!

Ah thank you so much! YES! You got my way of thinking! Imagine being secluded like that with barely any time to think much less to eat and sleep WHILE working like that AND while watching your friends and comrades (arguably those that relied on you for support and to go home, those who managed to survive a 10 year war!) die in such a way! DUDE Even I would do what he did and yes I would feel FURIOUS and eager to come on top for that! His ultimate mistake was that he insulted Poseidon in his fury by claiming that he would never be able to save him now which is what sealed the deal there but man honestly can we blame him?!

I agree! I always thought that blinding him (which was a damn nerve-wrecking process enough as we see above), then they have to wait and Polyphemus is guarding the door! There is no guarantee that they won't get caught and even if ONE of them was caught their plan would be destroyed! Mind you Odysseus ALMOST got caught when Polyphemus realized his favorite ram that usually went first is now waiting behind, coming for last. like...DUDE! Imagine that NERVE WRECKING process! So for that I imagined that indeed Polyphemus would be looking for them still! The dude could easily stomp them to death by accident! Much more if he wanted to!

AND mind you there are other cyclops out there too! Odysseus and his men had NO GUARANTEE that they wouldn't fall on one of them on their way out, they had NO GUARANTEE that their ship was not found by one of them and so when they run to salvation they could potentially find none there and all their effort all their plan could be potentially lost at any moment much more while mourning the loss of their friends throughout the process!

I can't!

Escape from Cyclops Island: Hubris

Okay a little something I promised to @wolfythewitch I was gonna post when discussing on a statue of Odysseus under the ram and this doodle Title says it all I believe! Hehehe

His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat so much that he felt he could spit it out at any moment now. He could swear he could hear the blood pumping behind his ear, almost making him deaf. He had to master all his self-control not to let his breath hiss down his throat and he felt cold sweat running across his face and back. He didn’t dare to make a sound even if the moans and groans of pain coming out of that detestable giant throat of the Cyclops were masking most of the other sounds except from the bleating of the flock. Polyphemus was still bleeding profoundly out of that crushed eyeball of his as he was stumbling across his cave, constantly making sounds of agony and on occasion he would angrily sway his arm around, dropping a load of stuff hanging from the walls or piled around. Odysseus was holding his breath every time one of those piles collapsed with tremendous sound and saw one of his men that were scattered about the room run for cover, barely missing being buried under the giant debris. He was at the end of his wits. That was the most difficult night they had so far and that spoke loads considering the terrifying week they passed in that secluded hole, watching their companions being consumed by the giant Cyclops. He was awake all night that was for sure ever since he had that idea to get the bastard drunk and pluck his eye out. It seemed a good idea at that time but of course even if he was mentally prepared for a difficult night, the actual thing was beyond terrifying; beyond his sickest expectations. On top of that he hadn’t calculated on the heightened senses of the Cyclops. He could hear a single needle drop! Yet alone them moving about! Therefore their whole night was nightmarish for they had to move about and avoid being stomped upon or being crushed every time the Cyclops couldn’t stay put and sleep while in pain among others while they themselves had to run about as soundlessly as possible.

Now even the Cyclops was exhausted and he was more lazily moving about but his pain was giving him strength and Odysseus still hadn’t figured out their way out! He knew the Cyclops was blind but now he could tell he had both acute sense of hearing and smell! They wouldn’t easily get past him! During the whole nightly and deadly play of hide-and-seek and chase, Odysseus was still trying to figure out a way out of the situation. They would have only one chance for there wouldn’t survive another day in that cave and their comrades were in danger too! Not only were there more of this monster around but even Polyphemus himself might as well stumble across their ships. Or their comrades would come looking for them and either get past him or get crushed by the others. Odysseus had given them orders to wait about a week. That day was getting dangerously close to come and they were still trapped! Polyphemus dropped yet another huge stack of grapes. His comrade Alcimos left a yelp of surprise as he was nearly crushed. Odysseus felt all his nerves tensing feeling Polyphemus look at that direction!

“So this is where you’re hiding?” Polyphemus moaned in his unworldly voice

He swung his arm barely missing his poor comrade and crushed at a stone wall behind. The silence that followed the tremendous sound was deafening.

“Shit!” he mumbled barely audibly

Odysseus picked a pebble up and threw it with all his might to the corner of the other direction. The dry sound echoed in the stone chamber and luckily drew the attention of their predator. Odysseus made a haste, almost panicking, move with his hand, urging his friend to run. As soundlessly as possible his terrified comrade obeyed. Odysseus eyed Eurylochus. He was as pale as a sheet, probably all of them were. Odysseus through another stone at another corner.

“Is that you there, Nobody?!” Polychemus growled swinging his huge arms again, “You won’t get away from me! You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

Odysseus hopped over to Eurylochus’s part as quietly as he could, practically crawling on all fours towards his direction, and patted his back.

“Captain…what are we going to do?” Eurylochus whispered (well it was more mouthing like whispering)

“I don’t know!” Odysseus replied in a similar manner

“We’re trapped! There’s no way out of here!”

“I’m thinking! I’m thinking!”

He nearly banged his head with his fists. Fear and lack of sleep were blocking his logical thinking.

“Think, you fool!” he urged himself, “Think! Think! There must be a way to run past him! Think! Think!”

Upon yet another rumbling of one of his comrades swiftly changing position to avoid the giant foot of the Cyclops, Odysseus threw another stone, this time to the wall above the sheep, causing the animals to agitate and bleat together. He hoped their noise would cover their clumsy attempts to change position. That didn’t pass unnoticed by Polyphemus.

“Is that where you’re hiding?” He groaned again, “among my sheep? You hope to walk past me inside my own flock?”

Yeah, the thought did cross my mind, Odysseus thought. In fact that was the initial plan; to wait for Polyphemus to open his cave and then they would run among the sheep that would come out and hope for the best. Odysseus was not sure if it would work anymore. Apparently he was right for the Cyclops confirmed his fear by laughing in his pain.

“You are a fool, Nobody! Do you think you can run past me so easily?! I will smell and feel you! I will sit here and make sure no one passes through me!”

Stumbling his way towards the cave’s entrance, he sat himself to the corner, to make his point. The message was clear. He would feel his way across the flock. Well, there goes my plan! Odysseus thought.

“Shit!” he cussed once more

Dawn was getting dangerously close. He was running out of time to find a solution. Would they run past him anyways? Improbable. Stay in yet another day and hope to somehow dig themselves out of it? Impossible. Would they, perhaps, wait for the nightfall when the flock would be coming in so they would run out as Polyphemus would be busy taking his sheep in? It could work but for once seemed as risky as their initial plan of escape and two he knew they were running out of time. Not only would their small search party arrive and compromise his lie that they were alone, revealing his identity too that he had tried to conceal, but also his men were at the point of breaking. He doubted they would last yet another full day in the cave waiting for their possible death. Not to mention hunger and fatigue had started taking their toll on them all.

“You will not get past me, Nobody!” Polyphemus threatened again

Apparently, though, they weren’t the only ones exhausted by their nightly chase and hide-and-seek game. Polyphemus groaned one last time in pain (potentially the wine he had so carelessly chugged down was not out of his system yet) and his head fell to the side and fell asleep. That gives us a few hours window, Odysseus thought. He didn’t have time to lose.

“Captain!” Eurylochus urged him again as loudly as he dared, “We must do something!”

“Sh!” Odysseus harshly shushed him, “I need to think!”

“Think!” he urged himself again, “You must think! Your life depends on it! Yours and your men’s! Think! What should we do!? Sheep…among the sheep…no we can’t do that now…but still… No, go back to the original idea! No time for more complicated plans! Do not fill your brain with unnecessary thoughts, you fool! Think! Back to the basics…the sheep… We can hide among the sheep…”

He gazed over at the flock. He noticed indeed it was an impressive flock. If they weren’t in such a position he might as well admire how well-kept they were! He noticed then the rams. Yes, sheep rams and goats he knew. He had plenty of flocks under his supervision in Ithaca. He noticed this good breed of rams among the white sheep. The rams were big, strong and black like violet flowers; were easily distinguishable among the rest. Yeah, these animals would make even the princes of Troy feeling envious. Suddenly his mind tingled. His hand cupped his chin, feeling the curly hair of his beard. Suddenly the light bleating of sheep and the snoring of the despicable Cyclops were not bothering him anymore. In fact, they were making the cogs in his brain move faster.

“Sheep…we can hide among the sheep… Troy…the trick that saved us from Troy… The sheep…in the sheep…no, no, no! Not in the sheep…among them…to get under his feet…wait…under…under…! That’s it!” he snapped his fingers in realization (drawing the attention of Eurylochus no less)

If it worked he would have to congratulate himself, he thought. If this didn’t work then nothing would! Just to be safe, he through another rock at the sheep, hoping the familiar sound would keep the Cyclops lulled in his sleep and clapped his hands twice as loudly as he dared, drawing the attention of his other companions. With frantic moves he pointed at them the flock, urging them to follow him in the pen. Luckily they got his meaning and ran there. Odysseus ran as fast and soundlessly as he could to the pile of withes that Polyphemus used as his bed and grasped some strong twisted ones from them. Joining his comrades he once more signaled to the sheep pointing upwards and then patted his stomach. He didn’t dare to speak a word. He didn’t know if the Cyclops would wake up and certainly his plan wouldn’t be ruined otherwise nothing would save them. It took his comrades two minutes to understand what he meant but thank the gods they did. He grabbed three-three the rams by their horns (thanking all the gods that this creature had no shepherd dogs to guard his flock!) and tied them together and then helped each and every one of his comrades under them. He left Eurylochus for last.

“Captain…h-how…a-are you…”

“Sh!” Odysseus urged again in a whisper, “Trust me”

He certainly sounded more confident than what he felt but Eurylochus didn’t need to know that. Helping his brother-n-law to be tied as well he looked around. There was only one ram left and it was the biggest and the best Polyphemus had in his flock. He knew that ram; it was Polyphemus’s favorite. He remembered seeing their tormentor caressing it and taking care of it. He glared daggers towards the direction of Polyphemus; fists clenching almost to the point of his nails digging in his flesh. All his accumulated anger was bubbling ready to explode. He had to use all his self control not to be lost in it. He went to the ram and grasped its thick fleece with all his might. There he remained taking breaths to calm himself. His body was practically drenched in cold sweat. He prayed to all the gods he knew that his plan would work. The last minutes till dawn passed like eons as he noticed the rosy color of dawn entering through the openings of the cave.

“This is it…” he thought, “The moment of truth”

The monster he so wished he could kill right now, slowly began to wake up. Like clockwork; like the very beasts of nature! He noticed him moaning and groaning in agony still.

“Yes!” Odysseus thought maliciously, “Suffer the pain of my men! Suffer like you should, you beast! Burn and drown in your blood for all I care, unholy creature!”

He saw the Cyclops slowly opening the heavy rock. The fresh air hit him directly on the face as well as the warm light of dawn. Yes! Just a little longer! Polyphemus groaned again in pain and whistled for the sheep to come out. He felt the sheep he was under moving but the movements were much slower than what he remembered. He knew it was because now he had him too weighting it down apart from its own thick fleece. As he suspected, Polyphemus began feeling his way through the flock, touching the backs of his sheep, counting and lurking for his victims to cross! Odysseus literally held his breath when his first comrade was to come through. Polyphemus’s hand touched the sheep. Odysseus prayed to all gods that his comrade would hold his fear back and manage to go through.  Polyphemus felt his way over and…he let the rams pass! The Man of Many Torments let out a small sigh of relief. He secretly congratulated himself for tying three rams together. His comrade in the middle was protected from both sides. The second passed the same through. He felt a smirk almost play at the corner of his lips as if he was trying to calm his own heart; stop his own sweat from making his palms slippery and nearly falling off his own salvation.

“Fool!” he thought triumphantly for one second, “You foolish beast! You thought you could catch me! No I will not be caught and devoured by you, Cyclops! Never! Their deaths weren’t in vain, Cyclops!”

Despite his resolve and wild triumph that was making his chest nearly breaking by the way his heart was pounding against it, Odysseus of Ithaca felt ready to have a heart attack as his own turn had come. Once again he nearly fell off but he bravely held his pace. He then heard Polyphemus speak (his view was blocked by the ram’s thick fleece).

“How strange that you come last, my dearest ram!” Polyphemus cooed at it, “You usually are the first to run out and lead all my flock to the open air to graze upon the grass…and by the night you run first back to get into your warm home… Is it because you are sad for your master, my dear ram? Because that puny man, Nobody, took away sight with his evil trick when he clouded his mind with wine? Is that it?”

Sweat was running like a river on Odysseus’s face as his heart was speeding twice as fast as a normal human would! His head was feeling light from hanging upside down for too long as well and his arms were getting tired. If anything was holding him back was his rage that gave him almost inhuman strength as well as his need to survive this.

“So you show no compassion to my men, to any of us that begged your hospitality and yet you speak on this animal as if it is the most important thing! Curse you, beast! Remain blind now for the rest of your life!”

His heart nearly stopped as the huge, sinister hand cupped the back of the large ram and gave it an affectionate pet. He felt that those huge fingers nearly touched his palms! And yet Cyclops didn’t investigate any further. His chest was moving violently up and down sucking oxygen like no tomorrow as he finally breathed again. And then he smelt the fresh air around him. He was outside! Finally! Finally they went outside! He barely held himself not to run immediately. He gazed behind his back, seeing Polyphemus slowly moving with his arms extended trying to find his way blind to the downhill path.

“Now!” he thought

He immediately let go of the ram and ran as fast as his feet allowed him to, cutting the binds of his men with his knife.

“COME ON!” He called to them, “GO GO GO! Grab the sheep and go! Run!”

Cyclops gasped as the stomping of men, Odysseus’s cries and bleating of sheep reached his ears. How?! How had they managed to…? Odysseus freeing the last man yelled at his second-in-command;

“Eurylochus! Run back to the ships! Give order to start! Go! NOW!”

Eurylochus didn’t need to be told a second time. As if his feet grew the winged sandals of Hermes he ran with all his might downhill. The small bay with their ships of salvation came to sight….

*

Polites was organizing the crew the best he could. It was already the seventh day ever since their comrades and captain had left the bay in search for hospitality. He knew he would have to organize the search party that day. What would it be the right course? What if they were too late?

“-…OLITES!”

He raised his head from his work at the distant sound of that voice. No soon after he saw the figures of Eurylochus and a few of their comrades running like all demons of Tartarus were after them. They were carrying huge sheep on their shoulders which were slowing them down while leading some more with them.

“POLITES!” Eurylochus was heard clearly now, “PREPARE THE DEPARTURE! HOIST THE SAILS!”

“What?” Polites asked in wonder but then he saw from afar a huge figure

It didn’t need intelligence to realize what it was.

“Oh crap!” he cursed himself “HOIST THE SAILS!” He transferred the order, “ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

Hands and feet frantically began working, abandoning literally anything they might have been doing, any sort of provisions they have laid down upon the beach and jumped in the water to climb the ships; ropes were loosened, sails were opened and anchors were pulled up as fast as their human hands could manage. Their comrades joined them soon after.

“GO GO GO!” Eurylochus yelled, climbing up the ship dripping water from the beach and helping the others up

“Wait! What about the others?”

“THERE ARE NO OTHERS POLITES! PREPARE FOR DEPARTURE!”

“Where is Odysseus?”

They both turned towards the dreadful sight; Odysseus was running as fast as his feet could take him (and that was fast enough) among the sheep of Polyphemus. Behind him the dark, sinister and huge figure of the Cyclops was catching up slowly because of size alone.

“Captain!” Eurylochus yelled, “Quickly! Hurry!”

Breath hissing in his throat and heart hammering against his ribcage Odysseus was running like Charon himself was after him. Around him the sheep of Polyphemus were also scared from the commotion.

“NOBODY!”

He stopped to look back at Cyclops that was after him, slowly yet steadily gaining ground. Something in his mind snapped that moment. He looked at the ram that was the source of his salvation. His original plan was to take it with him but he knew he could not carry it. He could only see red at the realization. He drew his sharp sword and grabbed the ram by the horns, eyeing the beast he hated with flaming eyes of obsidian.

“That is for my men!” He said threateningly

And then his sword cut through the tender neck of the ram, rich in fat and blood. The ram bleated desperately as it chocked to its own blood.

“NOOOO!” Polyphemus yelled woefully

He didn’t need to be smart to know what Odysseus had done. The king of Ithaca didn’t stop to enjoy the pain of his opponent. He ran to the edge of the rock and threw himself in the sea before swimming frantically towards his ship where his men helped him up immediately on their way out of the bay. Breathing heavily he looked around and all his comrades were rejoicing to see them fine!

“Captain!” Polites called out, “Thank gods you are alive! What happened! Where are the others?”

Odysseus’s eyes darkened.

“Gone…” he croaked out, clenched feast trembling “That…that beast ate them!”

His comrades let out cries of mourning as they covered their heads with their cloths in lament. It was the second loss they were suffering outside of war ever since Thrace and the way was beyond comprehension… Odysseus saw his men lamenting, even those who were now rowing for their lives. Something snapped inside him. He turned around towards the shore, for they had gained a fair distance; brought his both hands around his mouth and yelled with all his might;

“CYCLOPS! HAY, CYCLOPS! I’M HERE!”

“What are you doing?!” Eurylochus croaked out shocked

However Odysseus was beyond himself.

“Looks like it wasn’t just a common man the one you decided to devour his companions! Looks like it was no weakling as you thought!” he mocked him, “You should have thought twice before you had the audacity to devour your guests in your own home! This is why Zeus took the sight away from you!”

Polyphemus growled in anger. He grasped a huge boulder from the rock next to him and threw it towards the direction of the voice. The boulder splashed loudly into the water, shaking the men off their feet and showering them with water. The wave pushed the ship close to the shore, almost hitting the rocks. Odysseus rushed to the pole of the steer and pulled with all his might, narrowly escaping the howl crushing against the sharp protrusions. His head moved urging his men to run to their positions at the oars.

“ROW MEN! ROW!” he ordered, “Full speed ahead!”

They didn’t need to be told twice! Their calloused from war and sea hands grabbed upon the oars like their souls resided in them, rowing with all their might at the orders and rhythm provided by Eurylochus and the rest of the captains. Odysseus laughed loudly almost like a madman seeing the distance they covered.

“YOU MISSED!” He mocked him again, “CYCLOPS! I’M STILL HERE!”

“What are you doing!?” one of the men called out in panic, “You reckless man! Stop provoking him! You will kill us all!”

His men indeed seemed to be coming to pat him on the back, stop him from performing this madness as some more boulders barely let their ships untouched.

“Captain! That’s enough! Please!” Eurylochus urged

“CYCLOPS! HAY! WHAT’S THE MATTER!” Odysseus ignored them “YOUR STRENGTH LEFT YOU!?” he yelled as he was practically held by them as he rushed to the edge of the ship to yell to his opponent with all the strength of his lungs

“CAPTAIN!” now Eurylochus yelled, “Have you lost your damned mind?! Stop this!”

Fists clenched and shaking, no, rather his entire body was shaking as Odysseus rushed to the edge and almost hanged himself from there, as if trying to ease some distance between himself and the shore.

“Captain don’t-!”

“CYCLOPS!” he yelled on top of his lungs, “IF ANYONE ASKS YOU WHO TOOK YOUR SIGHT TELL THEM IT WAS ODYSSEUS THE SACKER OF CITIES, THE SON OF LAËRTES FROM ITHACA THAT DID IT! DO YOU HEAR ME!?”

“Odysseus!”  Polites now urged grabbing hold of him as if he was afraid that he had lost his mind

And in one way he was right. Face all red from fury and nostrils flattering in his breathing, Odysseus was no different than a madman indeed. The cry of desperation he heard from Cyclops and the way his arms flew in the air was balsam in his soul. His enemy’s pain and distress was as addictive as the triumph over this opponent!

“ALAS! It was prophesized for me by Telemus that Odysseus would make me blind!” he cried, “But I hoped for a battle! For a worthy opponent! Not this short WEAKLING who clouded my mind with wine to do it! But my father, Poseidon will heal me, Nobody! YOU HEAR ME!?”

He threw another bolder in anger but this time Odysseus was way out of range. The bolder landed in the water several meters behind any ship that belonged to the king of Ithaca. Odysseus’s mocking laughter echoed once more.

“COWARD!” Polyphemus called upon from his isle, “Come back and fight me like a man, you weakling! Come back so you can have the gifts you so wished for! Come back to have the handsome ransoms my father Poseidon would have for me!”

Odysseus roared angrily, beyond all reason, banging is fist against the hull of the ship, practically breaking free from Polites’s grip.

“IF ONLY I HAD YOU UNDER MY SWORD NOW!” he yelled, “I WOULD TAKE YOUR LIFE! I WOULD STEAL YOUR LIFE LIKE YOU TOOK MY MEN FROM ME! AND NOT EVEN YOUR MIGHTY FATHER POSEIDON WOULD BE ABLE TO PUT YOU TOGETHER AND HEAL YOUR EYE! YOU HEAR ME! I’D KILL YOU!”

He had no idea he could yell so loudly or so long. He had no idea he would lose his mind that day but he just had to release all the accumulated anger he carried in all these days; all the horror and fury.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?! I’D KILL YOU! I’D KILL YOU! I’D KILL YOU!”

“Odysseus!” Polites was heard again

The king of Ithaca was breathing heavily like wounded. His throat almost completely aggravated from his desperate yelling. His chest seemed on fire as well. But that moment of silence after the madness was enough to hear the Cyclops from a distance. He raised his arms towards the heavens and cried out;

“Oh, Poseidon! If I am your son and you wish to call yourself my father, make sure that Odysseus the Sacker of Cities from Ithaca shall never see his land again! But if he is fated to set a foot again to his ancestral home, let it be alone, may all his companions perish and he shall arrive to his land stranger upon a foreign ship and meet only misery in his halls!”

At the sound of that terrible curse, the men on his boat nearly scratched their faces in lament and moaned in terror.

“Gods! We’re cursed!” one called out

“Gods, why!” one other cried, “Right after Troy!”

And then Odysseus gasped. The word rang in his mind like a bell, snapping him out of his previous rampage…freezing him solid almost instantaneously.

“Gods…!” he whispered in terror, “What did I do!”

His previous hypertension turned into a frozen, delirious state. He almost fell limb to the arms of Polites; eyes hollow and fixated upon nothingness; upon some imaginary thing on the planks beneath him.

“What did I do!”

“Odysseus?” Polites whispered alarmed, “Odysseus!”

“What did I do! What did I do!” it was all his captain was whispering

He knew then…he knew the price was too great and he could not pay it!

What did I do what did I do what did I do what did I do what did I do…

~*~*~*~

Based on the 9th rhapsody of the Odyssey this is another one-shot!

Dunno why I imagined how literaly nerve-breaking the whole process would be and how these men would be inside that cave waiting for dawn to come so I kinda went for that! Plus I wanted to explain the emotional accumulation inside Odysseus that led him to make the greatest mistake in his life!

Dunno why I made him kill Polyphemus's favorite ram! I imagined that if a ram alone is enough to lift him up then he wouldn't be able to carry it so I imagined Odysseus would want to hurt Polyphemus for what he did to his men and this idea of a more cruel act by Odysseus was given!

The escape scene was also heavily inspired by the Sinbad The Legend of The Seven Seas scene of the giant fish!

And of course you can see my analysis upon my theories on Curse of Polyphemus

My analysis about Odysseus wanting to hurt Polyphemus and enjoying the pain he inflicted him can be seen here

I hope you guys like it! Sorry it is like 5 in the morning now! Hehehe

[dennisboobs]

my favourite thing about the always sunny podcast is listening to rcg all say something extremely neurodivergent and then agree amongst themselves and convince themselves its completely normal

[jellyfishvibes]

Update, I've fallen far enough into insanity that i've begun watching kh cutscene movies while doing this, my brain is boiling down into a concentrated kh sludge

Bad news i found while procrastinating taking a break, i don't think there is a full collection of ripped pieces of the spirit pets from the pet customizer, the most i have found is the ye olde update posts from @luxenvulpies that have high res promo/banner art of the new pet part reward pulls as they came out, i don't know exactly how much of the total pet part pieces art there but ill jerry rig what i can

The most annoying part is using roboloids site has spoiled me by giving me each part isolated and in order, these are flattened images of a pet wearing the full outfit so ill have to manually edit them to separate out all the pieces again

Grumble grumble grumble

If anyone knows someone who has the isolated pet part assets please send me their way

[kiragecko]

Have them be really into Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, sci fi novels, etc. They just really enjoy elves/aliens/robots/vampires. This has nothing to do with the way those characters live outside of traditional gender roles! Nope!

Have them be really into anthropology or history. Maybe they're interested in 3rd gender people. (A problematic and racist concept, but I've heard of a NUMBER of academics discovered interesting stuff about themselves through that lens.) Maybe they think Joan of Arc is REALLY cool. Maybe they just like bringing up reasons that assumed gender roles are actually really modern, and people did things SO DIFFERENTLY at various points in the past, and will probably change them again in the future, and ... (Gender feels less like a trap if you realize how much is arbitrary.)

Have most of their role models be a different gender.

Have them get mildly euphoric when people mistake their gender, while ALSO being annoyed by the gender they were just called. (I KNEW I wasn't a guy, and only felt dysphoric when people called me a guy, but at the same time got excited that people hadn't thought I was a lady. It was very confusing.)

They overreact to comments that assume they did certain things because it's a gender thing. Just HATE it when people say that 'a woman's place is in the kitchen' or that 'women are naturally more intuitive'. Tend to emphasize the work they put in to learn a skill.

Have them feel amorphously lonely a lot of the time. They don't know WHY they feel so distant from other people all the time, but they do.

Have them think of themselves as a 'tomboy', or some other gender-nonconforming role that they know about. Think about how they're 'not like other girls'. Wish that 'their' gender didn't act in certain ways, without recognizing that they can just decide NOT to act that way.

Have them really into D & D, or writing short stories. They play as/write both men and women, and sometimes get a bit too into describing their characters.

They're a bit of a prude, and tend to shy away from skinny-dipping, casual sex, sports, or other innocuous things that involve displaying your body. Maybe they look away from other people who do display themselves, either because seeing what other people look like makes them feel bad, or they stare too much (and too longingly).

Have them discover one or more of the various mythological/religious concepts of a singular being that is both female and male, or neither male nor female. Maybe they get swept up by a shady guru, because his teachings resonate so deeply. Maybe they're not allowed to talk about Christianity with their relatives, because their interpretation is seen as sacrilegious. Maybe they privately imagine a unisex future, and conversations about technological advances scare them because they don't want to be judged.

I suggest letting them be fine with their pronouns, because that isn't the thing culture is focusing on. Instead, focus on the parts that ARE in the public consciousness - feminism and gender roles, freedom of expression in clothes/haristyle/etc, sexuality, etc. Maybe they secretly think communism must have some good points, because who WOULDN'T want to be addressed as 'comrade'? Maybe they're a 'guy' that's seen as weird for being a feminist, because people not being trapped in gender roles is just so obvious to them.

-

My biggest suggestion is to find as many ways as possible to not make it directly about gender. Where are they redirecting those feelings? How do they justify to themself why gender roles don't feel right? What feels freeing enough that they can take a break from suffocating while they do it? What do they avoid, because it makes the suffocation worse?

If they're thinking directly about gender, they run the danger of figuring out that something is going on with their gender. But if they're just REALLY interested in imagining how robots would integrate into human society?

You can spend decades thinking about robots without EVER considering why their experiences feel so resonant! And even if you do think about it, "maybe I'm not actually the gender I think I am," isn't going to be the first thing you consider!

How should I show that a character's nonbinary when they themselves don't know? Should I even do it if they'll just be misgendered the whole story?

They're born in the early 70s (when the main story takes place they're 22). They have trans relatives but I don't think they know there are options beyond (a) staying their AGAB, (b) transitioning to the other binary gender, or (c) drag, which isn't really their thing.

I want to make it deeper than "they think gender roles are stupid" but I don't know where to start in portraying an nb egg.

[I'm assuming a lot about the culture of the particular 70s you're referring to. My POV is that I am "canadian" and much of my own personal knowledge of transness in this era comes from research in US archives. YMMV when it comes to places outside the heavily American sphere of cultural influence.]

So first of all, the 70s had a bit of a renaissance of androgyny. A common thing I'll see in advice columns of the era is someone asking what to do as a customer service worker when they "can't tell" what gender they think someone is, because of their hairstyle and the way they are dressed. I imagine there probably were a lot of people who took refuge in that ambiguity. A fro, a pageboy haircut, all these are something that people of any gender (not necessarily every texture but I digress) could wear.

Secondly, I figured out I was nonbinary before I knew it existed, before I had the words for it. (Though the term genderqueer was the in vogue one in the community at the time I figured my stuff out.) It's just that I sort of saw it as, "hmmm, well, I feel kind of between these things." And I think I'd seen it as sort of "half-trans" until I really understood transness better. (Note: this was for like a week tops.) I also went through a period of time a few years before this where I just sort of saw myself as a crossdresser (not drag - just someone who chooses to dress and cut their hair as they are comfortable and feel happy), but like, that as my gender identity, if that makes sense. I didn't have access to community of other people who felt like I did in order to compare to. But at the time, this also meant that when I talked about my feelings with others, they wouldn't have the same hangups about what it would mean for them if they said they felt the same. There were a lot of people I talked to in 2011ish who basically said they experienced gender as I did, only, I don't think most of them would understand for another 4 years at least.

One day I'd like to post more info about nonbinary history (especially in the 70s), but I'm just dumping info at this point. Something I will suggest for more on the topic is reading Lou Sullivan's diary, and reading autobiographies from trans people who were alive then. Even when they weren't out, they still existed, and lived in a world where they were carving out spaces for themselves.

To my understanding also, a lot of trans culture at the time sort of distinguished "transvestite" (trans people generally? but who haven't accessed medical transition) and "transsexual" (trans people who have or are intending to transition medically). Trans people of every variety might change gender expression based on their outness or the safety they had, and this didn't make them less seen as trans per se. A lot of people who ID'd either way (though more for "transvestite") would have a variety of approaches to things like name and pronouns. If this were the dominant terminology of the time that I were figuring things out, I'd probably have called myself a transvestite, though I would have likely been questioning the transsexual label for a while and ultimately not been able to access medical transition. (Though it depends on when in the 70s iirc - there was a time earlier on where it was easier to access I believe, but I'd need to fact check.)

In terms of general nonbinary egg mode stuff, or at least egg for an era where being nonbinary is not widely known to be a thing, here's some 'signs' (some are just straight up "that's canon if you put that in") I've brainstormed.

admiring specific fashion trends and looks that are gender nonconforming or androgynous (especially celebrities - maybe glam rock musicians, Joan Jett) (Joan Jett was huge for egg me personally...)

finding a lot of different ways to express how they feel in words (the "man/woman in a woman/man's body" phrasing is something that has historically bugged me, but people have used it throughout history) (more examples, dependant on the person, "I feel just as un/comfortable in my body and the way people see me as I would if I'd been born differently." "It's not a wo/man's haircut, it's mine." "I feel like a guy among my guy friends and a girl among my girl friends." "I feel uncomfortable when I go out with my partner and we are assumed to be straight/gay, though I don't know why." "I really enjoyed breeches roles when I did theatre in high school." "It felt good when I was mistaken for a woman.")

referring to themselves in their head with neutral terms

having dreams where they are recognized as themselves

feeling at home around trans people and queer people in general

watching or listening to certain songs/movies/etc that feel Gender for them over and over again

some kind of fixation on facial hair/other body part or lack thereof

it feeling different when different people use gendered terminology for the character (ex: a conservative Girl Guide leader calling everyone "ladies" vs a gay man saying "hey girl"). this is usually to do with what it's assumed the speaker's assigned meaning to the word is.

Re: misgendering through the whole story. A really convenient way to curb this would be to just have the character feel like the way they are (mis)gendered is also a part of their identity, it just isn't the whole picture. Another thing I sort of thought of in my early years was like, if people think I'm a woman, at least they understand there is something off about it. Whether they think I'm a butch lesbian or intersex (which was very regularly assumed throughout my life, at least until the general public started to catch wind of genderqueer identities). It matters to me that they at least understand my approach to gender is queer.

Another approach would be to have the story written from a distant past tense where the reader knows the identity of the character, because everything is told in distant hindsight. This is my favourite approach personally.

-mod nat

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

There's a lot about discussion of hdwr that baffles me (not all discussion to be clear, because i do think there's a lot of good discussion about hdwr. But equally so are there the ones that make you wonder if you're reading the same story) and I think one that is especially annoying is the constant infantilization of miwa as this passive eternal victim. It drives me up a wall because this is quite literally an issue she's struggled with within the text of the story! She had an arc about how she dislikes how people treat her this way like towards the beginning of the story! And like even ignoring that, this story is about like nuanced and realistic portrayals of being in relationships and learning how to navigate them and so it's like what's the point if you're going to immediately reduce the characters to "the victim" and "the victimizers?" Is that even interesting? Is that a useful lens to look at interpersonal relationships?

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[orcelito]

Don't know whether it's a product of my upbringing or just part of who I am, but I really do tend to shrug off things that seem to send others into massive guilt spirals. Like, what's the point? Either you meant to do it or you didn't. If you meant to do it but regret it now, make what amends you can & resolve to do better, then move on. If you didn't mean to, be honest about it, apologize if need be, & try to do better. Then move on.

Beating yourself up truly serves no purpose. What are we, catholic? If there is a god, I truly don't think they'd care, anyways

[freewilllife]

I agree that her lack of battle experience was a major contributor. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that this was one of the first times she’s ever had to meet an enemy head on like that. Most of her experience so far has been political maneuvering against people either culturally similar to her (the alethi high princes) or people with similar goals (the coalition at urithiru). I think this meant she had no prior experience to draw on, either for strength/inspiration or as a lesson on what mistakes to avoid. She had no idea at all what to expect with Todium

I do believe, that if you trained your body to react in a certain way, you might be able to respond in a beneficial way in (other) situations under great stress, (as well).

I guess, that is, what Adolin proclaims at one point...Jasnah has not years of training for those situations.

I also think a major part of it is that the other radiants (at least the main players) have all started at rock bottom and had to build themselves back up again concurrently with their Radiant journey. For the other radiants, this has given them no small amount of resilience, courage, and inner strength to persevere despite setbacks. They have tools with which to help them confront an enemy and deal with the mental/emotional challenges. For Jasnah, it just doesn’t seem that she has that. She has had struggles in the past that she’s had to come back from (she mentions being betrayed by her own mind) but it doesn’t seem like it aligned with her Radiant journey, so it didn’t give her the same kind of resilience that the other Radiants’ struggles did.

The "tools" you are speaking of are basically other people. They all find strength in one or more social bonds...

Shallan has Adolin and her friends (Kaladin and the other people within

Kaladin´s therapy is basically to learn to rely on other people

Renarin has Rlain or they have each other.

Adolin is a master in finding connections to other people

Jasnah however is literary alone inside of her order and she has basically no real friends...even though that is one of her deepest wishes...that is the info we get from her chapters regarding Wit. Jasnah is desperately wishing for social bonds with other people, yet unable to form them...

It also seems like the Radiant oaths are not foundational to her beliefs like they are for the others. It’s like “here are the pillars of my beliefs and my worldview. And also unrelatedly my radiant oaths are here too I guess but what does that have to do with the price of eggs.” So it makes sense that she wouldn’t immediately think to rely on them when they are not the cornerstone of her beliefs like they are for the others.

Oh, the oaths must be fundamental to her, or she would have not been put in that order. She has reached the 4th ideal as the soonest radiant.

So she must have fullfilled the oaths and therefore believed them, or she would have not found the right words. Jasnah´s greatest strengths are self-reliance and resilence, yet she is only one person and therefore weaker than the other people with bonds.

We do not know very much about Jasnah, nor all she believes.

There’s a really great post that I’ve seen comparing Kaladin’s agnosticism to Jasnah’s atheism, and how it comes down to Kaladin having faith in people and Jasnah not. If I can find it again I’ll link it. And I think that’s what this comes down to as well. Jasnah doesn’t have faith in anything except logic and her mind, but logic and even her own mind can be twisted and manipulated and used against her by an enemy (as we’ve seen before with the Thrill, Szeth’s backstory, Ishar’s depression beam, Gavinor in the spiritual realm, etc), so there has to be something backing it up. Logic can be the how, but faith in something (the Almighty, her Radiant oaths, people/relationships, whatever) have to be the why.

Absolute faith in an ideology is one of the driving forces of extremists.

And this book emphasizes that oaths are fallible as well. Kaladin´s belief is just as fallible as Jasnah´s, just as all theories and beliefs turn out to be...

At the end of the day, you have to connect and trust people...that is the moral of the book...and the reason, the "Unoathed" even exist. And that is a journey Jasnah has to still undertake... her not trusting people stems from her trauma.

Jasnah was abused as a child by her own father, he caged her into darkness until her mother freed her...It seems that Jasnah has been problems to trust other people since this time.

Jasnah

:: Wind and Truth spoiler ::

—

You cannot convince me otherwise that the only reason Jasnah Kholin, Knight Radiant of the Fourth Ideal, Elsecaller, Veristitalian, Queen-Regent-Refugee of Alethkar, first of her kind, sitting member of the World Leaders Coalition of Urithiru, would not have argued the Oaths of Radiance over her own personal moral philosophy- thereby forcing Taravodium to reveal his coup- is that she is now, unfortunately, Wit-less.

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[belethlegwen]

A lot of the time, this is being done by people who:

Never properly processed the hurt that was caused (or even seemingly caused) by the bad things

Have yet to develop healthy ways to deal with feelings of dislike at all-- many times this is people who simply do not like a person who dig these things up to search for justifications for why they Do Not Like

Have been made to feel throughout their lives that their own mistakes were permanent blemishes on them, and seek to handle that pain by spreading it to others.

A counselor, therapist or other mental-health professional will be able to explain this better than me, but basically: If you find yourself doing this, especially if it's for the last reason: Yes, it's unfair to keep bringing up the bad thing when efforts have been made to apologize, to undo the damages, or even-- because sometimes both of those things are impossible to do-- just putting in the effort to make sure that it doesn't happen again.

And yes, it was unfair when people kept doing it to you.

As a born-and-raised Catholic, the idea that sins are just... permanent blemishes on you until and after you fucking die is a poisonous one that's seeded into me and other people who were raised similarly to me. It's hard to break from that, and it's hard to break from the indoctrination that "if you sin, you deserve punishment, and if you see others sin, you are obligated to punish them in turn."

But it's possible. It's necessary.

There are loads of free counseling lines that you can call, a lot of them in North America do texting now. You can talk these things out, and find out where your pain is coming from, why you feel the need to cope with pain by causing it in others, and what healthier mechanisms for coping would work best for you.