Can’t believe people are trying to make a sweet babie like you choose a Wanda to kill 😪 where’s Motts’ protection squad gone?
It’s so very sad 😔🤧
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Literally had to reload because Eve used pet pal and her wild magic surged and turned Halsin and the Owlbear cub into dogs, and Lae'zel, Karlach and Scratch into cats...and the five of them attacked her. I was laughing so hard I was crying at the sheer ridiculousness and how Astarion was LAUGHING when the fight started.
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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You are the closest thing Atsumu's ever had to a best friend, Osamu knows. His brother's faults were often so visible to other kids that it drove them away. Not you though. You simply laughed and called Atsumu a jerk. The rest is history.
Osamu watches from his place on the bench as Atsumu sets up for a spike serve, six steps, the toss, the jump and--
"Don't fuck it up!" Your voice jeers.
Atsumu misses, spectacularly. The ball ricochets off the back wall with a stellar thwump that rings a brief silence into the gym. Osamu sees his brother spin around, a vein in his neck throbbing as he starts to unload on you.
"YOU MOTHERF—"
"Imagine not getting the service ace because the opposite team heckles you!" You cut him off with a jovial smile. "How lame would that be?"
"YOU SCRUB! GET OVER HERE. I'LL KILL YA!"
And off the two of you go, shrieking insults at each other. Osamu makes no move to get out of his seat. Not for the first time, he considers how this strange game of tag could be its own spectator sport. Suna sits next to him, the middle blocker's eyes flitting to the current source of entertainment.
"Not gonna record this shit?"
"No, s'not nearly as entertaining as watching the two of you beat up on each other." Atsumu manages to trap you in a headlock, driving his knuckles into your scalp for a noogie as you kick at his legs. "How long have they been together anyhow?" The question is asked so flippantly, Osamu almost misses it.
"Hah? They're not datin', Suna." That's right. The two of you aren't dating. Not once had Atsumu ever expressed that kind of interest in you, and the same seems to be true in reverse. No longing stares. No pining.
"That so? Could have sworn they were." Suna glances over, his usual apathetic expression almost perfectly in place. However, Rintaro Suna is the closest thing Osamu has to a best friend.
Osamu's mouth goes dry. "Drop it, Sunarin."
Suna holds his stare for another beat before turning away. "You deserve to have what you want, Samu."
"I mean it."
"So do I."
Osamu fights to keep his face in check, fights to restrain himself like always. To hold back just enough so that he doesn't lose his temper. It should be easier by now, to suffer the pointed remarks Suna makes with grace. However, Suna had been the one to witness the smallest of exchanges between Osamu and you. And then, the motherfucker had managed to put two and two together. So here Osamu sits, watching his brother horseplay with you.
You. The one person he could trust Atsumu with, the one person who would be so good for him to fall for... is the same person who crashed through Osamu's walls and took a seat within the inner sanctum of his affections.
Osamu Miya is in love with his brother's best friend and Atsumu would never forgive him for it if he found out.
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Every time I hear about the cruelty of the genocide in Palestine I'm always baffled. Not by the logistics of it. I recognize that white western supremacist leaders value money and power over brown lives. They always have. It reveals itself in every political interaction.
But I guess... The lack of humanity always stuns me. How far detached do you have to be to be okay with this? To know what you're doing and do it, not even saying "oh well it's someone else" no it's YOU! YOU are the one committing these atrocities! How do you get there? I can't fathom what greed and privilege you have to have to be okay with this. To think that this is a "necessary evil". Even those who AREN'T going to benefit from it (i.e. white liberal voters) have convinced themselves of this. How do you do that?? How do you see live action the murder of tens of thousands (with the intent of millions) and not like... That shit don't bother you? It don't... Make you question that the leadership you're under, that the world you're in, is not the way it should be??
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the theme is same faces
(ID in alt text)
bonus + design notes:
sparknotes:
tridentarii: the building block was "lions" (corona's mane of hair and king vibes + ianthe's scar lionking swagger) but i think i lost that plot at some point. regardless peep the earrings for symbols of their twisted mutualism. also they have dimples <3 bc on corona they're perfect and on ianthe (when she smiles wide enough) they're sickeningly dissonant
the nonas: harrow has curls bc i think the only thing funnier than saddling a nun who's been shaving her head since infancy with fast-growing hair is for that hair to be horrible messy springy curls that are barely spared from frizz by the sheer grease #bathingisn'tsafeformern. please also applaud my restraint in adhering to canon and not giving nona dimples. she deserved them
the sixth: came to me fully formed honestly. palamedes calls camilla beautiful enough for the alexandrites so i just let my heart and sapphism take the wheel here. for pal when i first read gtn i visualized him very differently but other artists made such a compelling case for scruffy pal that now i can't see him any other way
the second: also let my heart take the wheel here. wanted to draw a man carved out of hardwood so i did <3 at the caliber of necromancer that g1d is i know he probably wouldn't have so much scarring but the heart wants what it wants (cool factor). in my head and in my heart they're from wake
naberius: i don't have anything to say in my defense. i rewatched teen beach movie, found the perfect face claim and set the wheels of fate in motion. i think babs is hot the way a ken doll is hot, y'know? it takes yanny piloting his flesh mecha for him to be gender (<- testimonial from my masc nb friend)
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