#making my head hurt

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

why did i decide to read the bad reviews of tfc.... pls i'll commit hate crimes

[wasyago]

tango doodles

first you make up a guy and then you struggle to draw him correctly

[druid-for-hire]

[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]

a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury

[finnesse]

what in the bloody fuck?

I AM GOING FUCKING CRAZY 😵‍💫😩

[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.

[sealsdaily]

Today's Seal Is: Owgh...My Head...

[will41n]

guys are you ready *gives your effo long hair i mean. it kinda fits him!

[umblrspectrum]

another failed sneaking attempt

[tubbytarchia]

Missed drawing these two too

Bonuses

[ex0toxin]

happy pride from everyones favorite boy besties!! 🏳️‍🌈💜

[xxplastic-cubexx]

apocalypse doodlings aka We Couldve Had Grey Hair Erik And Charles Is There Too I Guess

[teddybeartoji]

toji is so grounding. he's able to make your worries disappear without ever even doing anything (he doesn't know he can do this btw). like yeah he makes his jokes and his fuckass old man comments and he is still bad with feelings but the second he sees you drawing back into yourself for whatever reason, he's quick to just.. poke at you. he'll knock his knee against yours ever so gently, trying to get you to look at him. and when you don't, when you avoid his gaze, he turns into a very docile creature. his voice gets lower, his eyes way softer as he nuzzles into you. he knows his words won't be any good, he's not good at using them, so physical touch has to do.

pulling you into his chest or kneeling down beside you when you're laid down on the bed and tracing your features with his calloused fingers, there are many ways to do it. he just wants to make it go away. make whataver is bothering you just fuck off. he wants to protect you from the world and keep you safe from your own brain and so, nothing is too much. for a man so unfamiliar with tender touches, he's surprisingly gentle. his hands are rough but never with you.

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, he swipes his thumb over the sensitive skin below your eye. he presses a kiss, a small peck to your forehead. is this the same man who tripped you a few hours ago? is this the man who teased you for spilling water on yourself? is he really the one that groans and sighs and rolls his eyes whenever you serenade him with a silly song?

he does trip you and he does tease you and he does act like your antics aren't the most endearing thing in the world, but he also feels sick to his stomach at the sight of your teary eyes. he needs you to feel better, he needs you to smile again. you're the one who keeps him afloat and he refuses to let you sink an inch. down on his knees, he devotes himself to you in all of his might. he nudges his nose against yours as a silent promise before enveloping your body under his. he'll kiss you better, he'll hold you better. anything and everything – he's all yours.

[doctorsiren]

give this angle another tri

[lucabyte]

Perceptive kid, I wonder just how much they pretend not to overhear.

[louferrignojrofficial]

his cute little dance when he won 🥺

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finarfin Fades.

No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.

He’s so tired.

He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.

His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.

Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.

So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.

He sits. He waits.

And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.

…at least he’s smiling again.