#who breaks out of it

[threepandas]

Bad End, Chosen: Part 3

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The Dark Lord's castle was under seige... but it it felt very far away. Most things did, these days. Cacophonous booms and terrible screams wrent the air, somewhere beyond the greeting chamber's walls. People were dying. Monsters were dying. I... I should care. D..Did I care? I could not remember anymore.

A warm hand continued to pet my head.

My Grandmaster sat upon his throne. Unamused. There were pests that would not die. They stood in our way, he said. I... I could not understand. Yes, Grandmaster. Of course, Grandmaster. (I was so far away, Grandmaster. My body did not feel real. Nor my own. Had I left? Why?)

The world shook. Again and again. An irritated inhale from above me. Grandmaster did not like wasteful, showy, displays of power. They were needless peacocking, he said. Yet... yet my Failure Master enjoyed them. Said magic was to be enjoyed. Meant to be shared. A gift.

But he was a Failure Master.

We do not need him.

.....my head hurt. Grandmaster was kind though. Loved me so very, very much. He stroked my hurting head, as I sat, pretty and leaning against him, at his feet. A good Grandlearner. Dressed in soft and beautiful robes. Dark as night. Red, red, RED as the blood of my me-!

My headache spiked. I winced. Pretty jewels tinkling softly as the thought slipped away. Or... at least... I THINK I was thinking a thought? Was I? Probably not. My head hurts.

It's easier not to think.

I turn my face, to tuck it against my Grandmaster's leg. The soft fabric of his leggings is, as always, cool and blissfully fresh against my face. It is a miracle the delicate, ornate accessories I wear don't catch on something. Like so many drops of blood. The thought tries so desperately to catch, but there is nothing to hold. My mind is mist.

A pleased noise, as my Grandmaster stokes my hair.

I am a Good Grandlearner.

The grand doors crashed open. A painfully loud noise that spears my aching head. The sounds of battle have slowly grown more and more distant. Running feet. They are here. The wretched Beloved. Here to end this little play. Why... why does it feel like hope? I hate them. I feel nothing. I miss one.

My... my head hurts.

"MASTER! It ENDS TO-!" Shouts a familiar voice. Once, it was family in this unfamiliar world. Or at least... I had hoped it would be. "....no. Learner. You... YOU MONSTER! Master, what have you DONE TO HER!?"

There is such horror in his voice. Such grief. As though I am already dead. Truely... truely he IS a Failure Master. That he would not even fight for me. That I would, only now, become relevant again. Master... oh my Master... am I nothing but a prop in your story? Motivation for you to fight on? You do not even see me... do you?

"Disgusting."

My Grandmaster has finally lost his patience. Rising to his feet. Not as my Master's Master. But as Alaric Blight, the Arch-Mage of Red, Dark Lord, and final boss of the game. With him, the cycle will begin again. But oh... OH. His wrath is a terrible thing.

The so called Heros have gathered behind my Failure Master. SHE is there. Short hair the color of sunlight, eyes like dawn. Her mere presence cuts through the mist that has swallowed my mind. Slowly, relentlessly, but enough. I can... can claw my way.. with bloody mental hands... to something like aware.

I wish I could laugh.

She looks so delicately horrified. A proper Protagonist facing "horrors". Ha ha... this? Oh, little Saint. This is nothing. They made you weak by shielding you. And now? Now we may all die for it. I... I hope your love story was worth it. Now die, so this can finally end.

The battle is pathetic. Not a single one of them worth even a fraction of the brave souls that once gave their lives for me. For their kingdom and countrymen. They flail and jump around like grasshoppers. Call out attacks like children trying to impress. But dispite it all... they have the very GODS on their side. And it holds an unfair advantage.

One that they ultimately? Waste.

Die. Like vermin. And I can not even be glad for it. Because I know they have learned nothing. WILL learn nothing. They will continue on to be selfish and spoiled forever. Favored children at the cost of us all.

But... they did free me. And for that? I can almost forgive them. Almost. The so called "assassin" dropped one of his blades. More like flung them everywhere. But it makes no difference. It is close enough. I do not watch as my Grandmaster gives his speech. Sneering down at the God's favorite brat. She offends him on a visceral level.

He plans to rip out her heart. Make me EAT it to steal some of her power.

If she is not dead, the cycle does not yet repeat. And he is more then powerful enough to keep her alive with out vital organs. But... but I know. I KNOW! He can not TRUELY bring back the dead. Only their meat, in shambling and mindless service. He is distracted. And I?

I Will Be Free.

The knife is sharp. So fine it barely hurts. But oh, oh it takes everything I am not to choke loud enough to be heard. He would turn. Stop my death. I... I can not allow that. It will take mere moments. After all, once and deep, right across the neck. Already I feel cold. My eyesight grey and limbs weak. The knife falls to my lap, the noise muffled by the ornate skirts.

He turns too late, a heart in his hand, to see I have defied him. Bidded my time. I am not weak. Not so easily kept and conquered, Dark Lord. I fought to defy you. I... defy.. y..ou... sti..ll....

And so the Cycle Ends. And So it Begins.

The Gods don't have all the Endings yet.

[giantkillerjack]

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.

[vanessa-rafesgirl]

me since april 19th

[deadpoets]

DEAD POETS SOCIETY (1989) dir. Peter Weir

[lokittystuckinatree]

People exist who actually want the Master to be written out of the show? Even temporarily? They’re like…the only other reoccurring character. The only other active character that can be recasted. Almost as central and iconic to the show as Cybermen or Daleks. Infamous for coming back from the dead. The Doctor’s person.

[anna-scribbles]

adrien tell ur mom to leave me alone !

[beybuniki]

finals season for grad student Izuku (The Lore in the tags)

[hinamie]

sometimes u just gotta. mini itfs. to cope.

[officialmiintee]

wind breaker / please share some of your burdens with us

[wilwheaton]

Q: Why hasn't the SAG-AFTRA strike been resolved?

A:

[raepliica]

【Smoke】 The reunion of tristamp Eriks and Wolfwood

this was based on a vashwood week prompt from twt^^

A wild Milly has appeared!!! Can't wait for best girl!!!

[expelliarmus]

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Aang, you're really in it now...

This is Zu—I mean, Jian Li and Katara's second meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU. The first proper one, anyway.

Once they get through a minor difference of opinion or two (“I can carry my own basket!” “Never said you—” “I'm not weak!” “I didn't—” “Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean—” “Would you listen for once, woman?!” ) they'll become nearly inseparable.

For now Jian Li will carry Katara's basket all the way to the Kyoshi Warriors' dojo and, once there, they'll mercilessly tease Sokka when they see him in uniform.

[iwoulddieforienzo]

Personally I think percabeth is at its best when Grover is in it. I don’t necessarily mean in a polycule way I just think it’s great when he’s around

[inspisart]

dick took the news that a strange thirteen year old broke into his apartment while he was away at the circus pretty well, I gotta say

[sombrewoodlandfairy]

the tortured poets department wallpapers

part 1 | part 2