#i spent so long on this help

[ukarimo]

Moon Knights first season was so good! ,,,,hey who's that guy?

[theonelittlebastard]

Red guy + Hatsune Miku

you’re welcome

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

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.

Plain-text version:

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!

P.S. 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.

[edgeasaurus-art]

What several levels of exhaustion does to a mother fucker.

I was listening to the album grow again by Moe Reen while making this. specifically Why Deny (The Climate of Our Love).

You could admit it's all on fire And confess to loving me This world is surely ending soon, Our love is certainly something true So why deny the climate of our love?

Theres so much to say about them. The world is on the precipice of disaster and yet they found each other, the successors to the emperor and empress titans. Did the emperor and empress wonder what their successors would become? did they wonder about who their successors would be? did they hope that they would find the love they had? or did they think the story of the titans ended then?

When Fearne was alone with Nana Morri did she ever dream about the people she has around her now? about sharing a bed, with no other expectations other than waking up together?

When Ashton found themselves left behind after the nobodies left him, did he dream about a group of people who listened to what they said and respected their words? did they ever dream of someone wanting to be with them just because they liked being around him?

when they were at their loneliest, was the thought of each other a fever dream?

I still stand as a firm believer that both Ashton and Fearne have two hands, but watching them grow closer together has been amazing. And I hope their relationship continues to flourish, platonically or romantically.

[allykatsart]

A Gentle Smile

◀️Previous ▶️Next

Growing up in heaven, Emily's seen the best of humanity. She's pretty optimistic most of the time, so when she meets Alastor she takes his kindness at face value. She doesn't know he's a murderer just yet.

Alastor does see an opportunity to endeer (hah) himself to a powerful being... But he's also a gentleman. He'll be nice to her, even if it's just because it's the polite thing to do. He is the hotel's host, after all! Plus, she's better company than most of the damned souls down here!

Commission me!

Bonus!

[fudgecake-charlie]

Because me and @briefle are insane we've both written short fics in the disco hermits universe! Here are some rough drawings of a moment from each of them.

LINK TO BRIE'S AMAZING FIC in which Etho gets a surprise confrontation in the Whirling-in-rags

LINK TO MY SILLY FIC in which Etho does a very dumb thing about his hair in the middle of the night

for the people who read my fic i have a very stupid addendum for you that is. practically canon

[girlboyburger]

cow's secret revealed! 🛸

fun lil alt design for cow i've been workin on >:03c

💫🛸

[kokoasci]

finally drew the main doa together :>

[somegrumpynerd]

Cross has trouble getting to sleep alone in his room and goes looking for a distraction, but ends up finding a solution for both of them

[undead-knick-knack]

This idea popped into my head and I couldn't let it go, enjoy

[thefirstknife]

Some lore tabs that killed me dead and I'll never recover from them. Seasonal gauntlets are about Zavala realising and coming to terms with the fact that he is mortal and has mortal pains. Also, finally, the full confirmation that Guardians resume aging when they lose their Light:

He moved his chair back and considered his knee. What had he done to hurt it? He had not exercised yet, he had not gone on his usual patrol… he had done nothing. Why would a knee hurt from doing nothing? The riddle dissolved. He was starting to age.

But also:

He allows a hand to rest on his aching knee. To venerate it. He feels it solid under his palm. It is his, it is real, it is both portentous and precious. He is aging. He will age. An absurd and joyous thought warms in his chest: how fortunate, to have lived long enough to grow old. How invaluable, to make the space between himself and the horizon matter. How much time is left? And is it best spent with his knees under a desk?

Genuinely crying over this. How fortunate to live long enough to grow old. Man. Also at the end he asks for a break for one week and Ikora offers him two weeks.

The next one just... I have no words. It has to be read in full. It's about Saint going through it, having memories of his past and also dealing with the guilt with what's happening to Mithrax. Truly every sentence in this one is a gutpunch all the way to the end. Excerpts:

The hum of activity was overpowering yet reassuring to Saint-14 as he stopped to watch an older Eliksni expertly weave fabric on a well-worn loom. The woven symbols were unique and unfamiliar to the Exo, but he watched in awe as an iridescent glow emerged within the vibrant cerulean cloth. Fit for a Kell, Saint mused to himself— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory echoed in his mind. All he could feel in this moment… was shame.

Saint remembering his crimes against the Eliksni and feeling shame.

He hurried past the weaver and through the crowd, landing squarely in front of a tea stand, a sample placed in his hand before he could open his mouth to refuse. He looked down. The opaque liquid steamed in his cup, pungent and medicinal. Like distilled Darkness, Saint realized— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory filled his sight. All he could feel in this moment… was sadness.

Tea reminded him of all the stuff with Osiris and he is not processing it well. I say excerpts but I have to put the rest entirely because like. Okay.

Saint placed his favorite keepsake, a small stuffed bear, on the Kell's throne. Gently, he adjusted the lavender ribbon at its neck; the crisp satin sat in stark contrast to the bear's hazy black eyes, to its slightly worn ear and well-loved fur. A gift, once a comfort to a child of the City. A gift, once a comfort to Saint in the face of loss, in the face of— Breath caught in his throat; hands shook— Flashes of memory swelled in his heart. Osiris. His strong laugh. His deep, soulful eyes. The warmth of his smile. Of his touch. Memories of comfort, but all he could feel in this moment… was guilt. Intense and overwhelming, like daggers cutting through him, sharpness bleeding through sweetness. Saint breathed deeply and stared at the medical equipment around the empty throne before him. "The cost of my joy," Saint whispered, and he wept.

He has a teddy bear. He once gave it to a child, but someone returned it to him when he was grieving about Osiris, to comfort him, and he'd kept it. And he put it on Mithrax's throne because he feels guilt that Mithrax is suffering because he helped him and Osiris.

I'm ending it all.

[lennonblues]

doodle page

[spenglerstwinkie]

COME AND GET ME OUT OF HERE‼️

[m0thwinged]

you spot a gingi in the forest....... what shall you do?

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #61 part 1

Danny didn’t like thinking about his old life. He was born to a family of assassins and as soon as he was out he never looked back. He had to fake his death and he changed his name, as far as anyone knew Damian Al Ghul had died on a mission to America. He was determined to keep this secret to the grave. Of course he knew who his dad was, Bruce Wayne was a prominent figure and he knew if we went there his secret would get out and he never wanted to be forced to be an assassin again. Once was enough. 

Danny knew he had a soft heart, his adoptive parents, the Fentons and Jazz had told him so. Jazz knew he didn’t have the greatest childhood or past but she never pried, she understood his business was his and wouldn’t let her own curiosity get the better of her. The only issue their family had was their parents obsession with ghosts. Damian never believed in ghosts, the entire thing sounded like a hoax. He probably never would have believed in them but then life happened. 

Danny believed, but it was kind of hard not too after everything that happened. When he had turned 14, his parents finished their biggest project yet. A portal to the ghost zone, of course it doesn’t work at first and his parents were very disappointed. Danny felt conflicted about the whole thing. On one hand he wanted his parents to succeed and he wanted them to be happy, on the other the portal was the reason he ate alone with his sister at night. He wanted a normal family life, something he was never allowed back at the league. 

He did something so stupid that night.

After his parents along with his sister were asleep, he crept down to the basement and stood in front of the empty hole in the wall. He looked around the outside of it first but nothing seemed to be out of place. Then he stepped into it and before he got too far into it something happened. He knew there were a lot of cords on the floor and thought he had avoided them all, but as he realized he was quickly being acquainted with the floor, he out of instinct held his hand out to catch himself on the wall. Right onto the ON button.

He didn’t remember much but pain after that.

A lot happened in the year after the portal was turned on but Danny thought he was taking things well. His sister found out about everything sooner than he liked but having someone to help him was something he didn’t realize he really needed until then. The ghost attacks were frequent and Danny was having trouble finding the time for school, friends, and fighting ghosts that the assistance helped a lot. 

Danny sat at as desk in Mr. Lancers class, who was going on about the play Hamlet. Danny was only half paying attention, he was preoccupied thinking about the latest conversation he had with Clockwork. Danny was recently crowned prince after his victory over Pariah Dark. He didn’t want the crown, ancients knew what Grandfather would do if he ever found out, but he had no other option but to accept. The conversation left him rather drained and it felt like every word his teacher spoke bled together. 

He eventually made his way to lunch and before he could make it to his destination a blue mist wafted out of his mouth. Sighing he ran out of the room to find a place to transform. Once he was Phantom he wasted no time finding the ghost. Of course it was Boxie. 

Before he had time to even fight though a portal opened up right besides Danny and he was kicked in by the Box Ghost. The world seemed to swirl around him until he landed harshly onto some pavement. The pavement was a roof and he appeared to be in a city. 

Not just any city he soon realized as he looked over to a bank that had the words ‘Gotham Bank’ brightly plastered on the front.

Shit… Danny wanted to avoid something like this, unfortunately the portal was already gone. 

After taking a moment to think about his predicament he decided the best course of action was to call Jazz.

He took a look around the rooftop he was on and when he didn’t see anyone he transformed back. 

Pulling out his cell from his pocket he pulled up his sister's contact on it and hit the call button. 

His sister took a bit longer than usual to answer but the hesitation in her voice caused him to pause, “H-hello?”

“Jazz, it’s Danny, we’ve got a code green,”  he knew setting up code colors with his sister would come in handy. Red meant he was gravely injured, yellow meant the ghost got away and he was in pursuit, blue meant he caught the ghost, and green meant he fell through a portal or something similar. 

There was silence on the other line for a moment and Danny was almost going to say something else but she spoke, “How do you know my name?”

Master Post:

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[bungholio37]

A Mother and Her Fucked Up Child.

Cork tree Patrick is very maternal to me. I painted him with Eraserhead baby because I just think this idea is beautiful.