Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!
You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!
You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!
You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!
Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!
Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!
So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.
Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!
Better accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues should suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.
Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.
Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*
Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...
Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.
Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.
Better not get confident.
Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)
Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people
- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties
- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations
- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you
- you might start loving the effect you have on a room
- you might enjoy conversations more
- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently
- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations
- you might stop apologizing so much.
- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.
Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!
Why, it would be carnage!!
In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things!
- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.
- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.
- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.
- You might know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.
You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.
So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to take to cut your awkward self some slack for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.
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Dragon!Porsche, the deity who has been guarding a perilous mountain range for almost a thousand years now. He's bound to these mountains – the result of a curse he placed on himself centuries ago, when his own foolishness led to the death of his own brother.
Porsche keeps to himself; is careful that the occasional caravan of traders or group of bandits doesn't know he's there. He does send his pet tigers after the bandits sometimes, if he sees they're the especially bloodthirsty kind who won't spare innocent lives but he makes sure his presence is undetected.
Solitude is his penance.
He's spending another evening watching the stars when he hears ruckus coming from a nearby pass. There is screaming, but not the terrified kind that Porsche has gotten used to. Instead, it sounds like an argument.
"I can't let you do this!"
"How did you even follow me? I took the fastest stallion here!"
"Would you please stop changing the topic? Your Highness. You seriously cannot be trusting some half-crazed old man's advice on how to save the kingdom."
Kingdom?
Porsche knows there's a human settlement on the other side of these mountains. Or at least, it had been a settlement centuries ago. He and Porchay used to slip into their human forms and visit there, under the guise of travelers.
Was that settlement the same kingdom these two humans were referring to? It could be. The number of traders passing by these mountains had grown significantly over the centuries.
Out of curiosity, Porsche follows the sound of their voices.
"If it can save the kingdom, I'll take advice regardless of who it comes from."
"What if it doesn't work? You'll bleed out and die!"
"I've instructed Arm to distribute rations to our people. Ships and caravans are ready. Pete will lead our men. Kim has already planned an escape route that will guarantee the survival of most of our people."
Porsche is close enough that he can see two figures -- a man and what sounds like a boy barely breaking into adulthood. The man has his back turned to Porsche but the fine quality of his clothes are certainly fit for a royal. His broad frame hides the face of the person he's talking to from Porsche's line of sight.
Porsche is close enough that he can hear the man's voice grow soft.
"It will be difficult, but I trust my brother to lead our people. He'll take care of you, so please look after him for me too."
"No. I won't do it. No. Please, Your Highness. Please don't do this. Please. You can escape with us."
"The moon is almost at it's peak. You should go."
That it is.
The moon is full tonight and she lends her light to the darkness. It's thanks to her that Porsche sees the blade glisten in the man's hands, hidden behind his back.
The boy tries to plead some more, but he runs out of time.
As soon as the moon rises to its highest point in the sky, the man pushes the boy away. He turns around, slices his palm with the dagger and lets his blood drip into the earth before turning the knife towards himself.
The metallic scent blood fills the air and Porsche looks on in regret as he hears familiar words uttered into the night before the man finishes what he'd set out to do.
The thing about being nigh immortal is being able to witness the stories about you turn into tales, which then turn into lore, that somehow evolves into a legend. To this man's credit, he does have his facts right.
Had Porsche been a weaker deity, a selfless blood sacrifice made at the height of the full moon would have bound him.
But Porsche is much more powerful than that.
He watches as the man falls to the ground, a pool of his own blood already beginning to form around him.
"P'Kinn!"
The man's companion rushes to his side and Porsche freezes in place as he sees tears flow down the boy's face.
No. It can't be.
Porsche is stepping closer to get a good look of the boy's face before he can even think about throwing a glamor on himself. He steps on a branch that snaps loud enough for the boy to look up, red-rimmed doe eyes the exact same as they had been nine hundred years ago.
"Please," the boy's voice wavers as he begs, completely oblivious to the fact that Porsche had never been unable to deny him anything since they were born. "Please save him."
Without even thinking about the consequences – the bond he'd be forming with a virtual stranger, the life force that he'd be sharing with someone who he wasn't even sure was worthy saving, the target he'd be placing on all their backs if the wrong people found out – Porsche takes the dagger and gives in to his brother's request.
(Later, when the three of them are safely in Porsche's home, the man he'd saved wakes up. His name is Kinn, and he is the king of the relatively small but prosperous kingdom nearby. There is an invasion brewing and all plans of negotiation have failed.
"They will need to pass through these mountains if they want to get to us. Please, protect us."
"Done."
"You won't ask for anything in return?"
Porsche holds up his hand, shows Kinn the fresh scar on his palm.
"You've already paid the price. You're a king, aren't you? The ritual you performed binds you to me. As I am bound to these mountains, so shall you be."
"You're saying I'm your slave and I can't leave this place," Kinn says grimly. Porsche nods, lets him assume the worst; hopes this interpretation of the bond will keep Kinn as far away from him as possible . "For how long?"
"This is not a bond that can easily break."
"Will you keep protecting the kingdom?"
Porsche sneaks a glance at Kinn's attendant. The boy called Chay, who was currently napping beside one of Porsche's tigers.
"Sure, why not?"
"Then so be it.")
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