" I can tell you've been crying, Nathan, " her brown eyes search his own while she finds him staring right back at her, tears beginning to pool in them again at her words.
Helene smiles sadly at him, stepping even closer so she can wrap her arms around his waist to offer him some much needed comfort in this moment of need. Nathan is not usually a man to admit that he is suffering, because he feels somehow that it is a weakness and therefore he cannot let anyone know, especially enemies.
While he is very aware that the woman is not an enemy by any means, he does not wish to bring her down to the level at which his trauma appears to pull him back down to.
Nathan stands there in comfortable silence with her for a few minutes, accepting the loving embracing and although briefly, allows a solitary tear to roll down his cheek while she rests her head against his shoulder and is unable to see it.
There is so much sadness in his heart and he fears his past wounds will never heal, no matter how much time passes by. Though he tries daily to do better and be better overall, it's a struggle.
" Would you like me to run you a bath? " she asks him, breaking the momentary silence in a bid to offer him further warmth in these trying times.
A little smile passes over his lips at the mention of her doing something so small and yet, at the same time, something that means so much to him right now. It would have such a large impact on his overall mood, so much so, he finds it nearly impossible to deny her the chance to do so.
" Thank you, Helene. I’d like that very much, " he says, every moment that the weight on his shoulders has driven him into the ground, showing in his expression now.
Nathan is a tired, worn down shell of a man who was once of high rank, someone who has witnessed far too much during his time and starved for affection in every way imaginable for far too long as far as Helene is concerned. There is nothing he needs more in the coming months ahead than tenderness in every venture he undertakes, no matter the cost.
" It’s no trouble at all, " a delicate little grin curls one corner of her mouth upward as she leans in to press a soft kiss against his tear stained cheek, paying the salty taste no mind. " I’ll set out some fresh clothes for you to change into, too. "
That is the last thing she says before whisking herself off into the bathroom to begin preparing a lovely warm bathtub full of water for him. For a moment she considers adding blossoms before realising it may not at this moment in time be a good idea. There is much within him still battling his demons where that particular memory resides, so she leaves them out.
As the water reaches a high enough level and feels an optimal temperature, she stops the steady stream and raises to stand once more, walking through to retrieve freshly washed clothes for him to change into after his relaxing soak. They are much more comfortable than what he is currently wearing, too.
" Your bath is ready, Nathan, " she calls to him, finding that he is in the doorway in no time at all, which pulls a knowing and happy smile across her features. " I’ll be in the other room, if you need anything at all, " she adds, barely above a whisper.
His fingers close around her wrist in such a manner that she believes he is treating her as one might a porcelain doll. This also sends a shiver of both delight and uncertainty through her body, the chills igniting her intrigue further.
" Stay with me a while, Helene. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, " he says, bowing his head a little before finding the strength to look up at her face to gauge her reaction.
He is so broken as she looks upon him that she finds it almost unbearable, a soft wisp of air blown from her mouth when she turns back around fully to find a place to sit. Her cheeks are a different colour now and though obvious from their heat, she does not detect any judgement from him at all.
" Would you like me to sing for you while you relax? " she offers in earnest, the light of her suggestion brightening her eyes.
Nathan simply smiles warmly in her direction once he has settled himself down into the water, energy replenished right away from both the heat and the calming nature of the water that he has been without for so long. Bathing was foreign in a sense to him now, but the memory was quickly coming back and as it does, he nods his head, accepting her invitation.
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“When I first heard it, from a dog trainer who knew her behavioral science, it was a stunning moment. I remember where I was standing, what block of Brooklyn’s streets. It was like holding a piece of polished obsidian in the hand, feeling its weight and irreducibility. And its fathomless blackness. Punishment is reinforcing to the punisher. Of course. It fit the science, and it also fit the hidden memories stored in a deeply buried, rusty lockbox inside me. The people who walked down the street arbitrarily compressing their dogs’ tracheas, to which the poor beasts could only submit in uncomprehending misery; the parents who slapped their crying toddlers for the crime of being tired or hungry: These were not aberrantly malevolent villains. They were not doing what they did because they thought it was right, or even because it worked very well. They were simply caught in the same feedback loop in which all behavior is made. Their spasms of delivering small torments relieved their frustration and gave the impression of momentum toward a solution. Most potently, it immediately stopped the behavior. No matter that the effect probably won’t last: the reinforcer—the silence or the cessation of the annoyance—was exquisitely timed. Now. Boy does that feel good.”
— Melissa Holbrook Pierson, The Secret History of Kindness (2015)
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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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One of my favourite things about the end of The S-Classes That I Raised novel (major spoilers ahead),
is the realisation that the reason why Yoojin and Hyunjae's relationship looks so much like a love story at times is because it actually, honestly is.
Like, we know that sctir is a novel about love since the beginning, that's not surprising. Yoojin's capability for loving monsters (both literal monsters and the human kind) and the power of that love is at the centre of the plot.
But by the time you get to the end, you realise - and the author confirms this themselves in their final Note - that Yoojin's relationship and love for 2 specific people was the true core of the story, and what allows him to save the world in the end:
One is, of course, Yoohyun.
And that love is absolute; you cannot say that it's inevitable, cause we know Yoojin had to make a choice when he was a child between Yoohyun and his parents, and he almost chose his parents, but from the moment he decided to love Yoohyun onward, then it was unconditional and eternal. It's the love of a brother, but also the love of a parent and a caretaker.
And the other person is Sung Hyunjae.
And that love is not unconditional nor inevitable or absolute at all. It's not something that can be taken for granted. We actually see, because of how it ended between them before the regression, and thanks to the White Bird's power of seeing possible futures, that there were so many timelines where Yoojin and Hyunjae would have never come to care about each other fully (tho they are always at least somewhat interested in each other, because their personalities are actually really compatible).
But the White Bird also sees that the only possible future where the world is saved is the one where they love and hold on to each other. And that is how the story goes!
So, just like a romance novel, the necessary end is the one where they both love each other and accept that love. And it's not easy to get there! It's a slow burn.
From meeting to getting to know each other, appreciating each other's skills and intelligence, finding out they have fun together but still not trusting each other, to working on building that trust.
They go from a strong but superficial mutual interest to actually caring about each other as people.
Yoojin has to go through the self-doubt of feeling inferior and fearing that Hyunjae will lose interest in him. Hyunjae has to learn to stop pushing Yoojin away because he doesn't know how to handle having someone he cares about so much, and also someone that cares about him, because nobody in the world (except in part Song Taewon) likes Sung Hyunjae as a person, he is only ever admired from afar.
And in the end, after going through ups and downs and a few "break-up arcs", they make it. They accept their own feelings and each other's feelings.
And that's when Yoojin makes the choice to use the power that the transcendents gave him at the very beginning of the novel, to save Hyunjae. Not the world. Not even Yoohyun! Just Sung Hyunjae!
Yeah, the whole "gather 50 S-Class people", the very thing that gives the novel its title. That is not a power that is used to save the world!! It was meant to, but Yoojin is "selfish", and he will always choose to save the people close to him first.
And being able to love someone so selfishly gives Yoojin the power to save the whole world, too. As a bonus! A reward. Just a side effect.
So yeah. Is it romantic love? No. Canonically, there's almost no romantic love in the whole novel.
But is it a love story?? Yeah. Absolutely it is.
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you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.
you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.
instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.
you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.
your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.
because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.
so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.
all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.
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