When I say bones has ocd I think of him as like a very high functioning dissociative who can do all his surgical procedures with a calm that cannot be taught and the steadiest hand uve ever seen and then 15-20 mins after clocking out completely falls apart at the seams because this job is in competition with the wiring of his brain but he does it anyway because he can't bear to see people suffer when he has the ability to help I see him as someone who could barely look at a diagram of the human body in school without passing out because every time he did he'd remember that's what his insides look like and those pictures would grow and mutate in his head until he could feel them, he's someone who can do his job well because he's spent his entire life managing those visions and mental distancing is an art he's mastered entirely and he can open people up because he sees opened up people all the time anyway. He sees them everywhere. It's just life
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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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i think one of the coolest things about dan howell is the example he sets of how your life isn’t over at 25, and one person won’t fix your life but you still can. dan met his actual soulmate at 18 and is only now, in his 30s, finding true and genuine happiness and fulfillment. meeting phil didn’t automatically solve all his problems, although he was clearly a significant part of the motivation to bother doing the work at all. but dan still put in the work himself for YEARS to improve himself and his life and it WORKED. your life isn’t over if you aren’t completely happy and fulfilled and the person you wish you could be in your 20s. putting in the work takes time but it is WORTH IT.
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I have had these thoughts bubbling away in my head for like...eighteen months or so now (it will become very obvious why shortly) but the discussion in this post has pushed me to write them down: I think societally we HUGELY underestimate how motherhood for primary caregivers, particularly first-time motherhood, can be a source of vulnerability to radicalisation.
There is obviously huge cultural variance here, but for a lot of cis women becoming primary caregiver to an infant in a capitalist Western society represents a time of immense vulnerability because in general you are:
Incredibly sleep-deprived (which has well-documented knock-on effects for your judgement, mental health, etc)
If you gave birth, recovering from a significant challenge to your physical health (even in the best-case scenario)
Isolated from your previous networks and communities of people in full-time work
Completely separated from the context of your prior career goals and achievements
Under huge amounts of stress to learn how to care for an infant (don't get me started on breastfeeding)
And on top of this, you are also be experiencing a huge amount of messaging about how all this is natural, wonderful, something you're meant to do, something you should love doing, and something that you must do for the welfare of their child. It's a huge amount of pressure and life change even when everything goes right and there's very little cultural space to express negative feelings about it.
Any group of people who offer community, support, and affirmation to cis women in this situation are going to have a really good shot at radicalising them into some very weird and dangerous headspaces and in fact we see this happen all the time - think antivaxxers and TERFs. It flies under the radar because of the hazy positive glow that associates with motherhood and babies and also because we don't take the radicalisation of women seriously I guess because they rarely shoot anybody, but...yeah. It is such a vulnerable time!
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“i need to cum” “i need you to go faster” i need i need i need. no. what you need is to shut your pretty mouth and keep your eyes on mine. full focus right here, baby. i want you to watch as i slide my thumb between your lips, pulling your jaw up and closed. you can suck on it. go ahead. but you’d better keep those fucking eyes on me. you’ve forgotten yourself, and your manners as well. mmm but don’t worry, darling. i have a mind to put you in your place just like this. i won’t even have to lift a finger. now spread your legs and touch yourself for me. go on, don’t be shy. i’ll tell you exactly what to do. and if you please me, maybe i’ll touch you, too. maybe. show me you deserve it. say please <3
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Dcxdp where Danny has been working with a hero team (did Bruce adopt him? Did he help the teen titans and got told to join them? Idk) for less than a year, maybe they knew eachother for longer, but Danny has been living with them for some months.
Now, I imagined this as a "Danny has to flee to a different dimension after a giw attack/reveal gone wrong" but it can work with other scenarios, the important thing is, death days are important for a ghost's wellbeing, but nobody knows/remembers Danny's deathday or that it's important to commemorate the dead. Maybe he hasn't told anyone yet cause he doesn't want to be a bother, or doesn't trust them enough yet.
So Danny takes the matter on his own hands, each year he goes to a quiet corner of the local graveyard, where he has a piece of marble and a small vase, he usually buys some flowers for his memorial grave and makes some fudge as an offering.
This year wasn't gonna be different, he told his team/family that he was gonna spend the day out, he chose an elegant but comfortable outfit, made some fudge, and saved it on the fridge with a note that said "phantom, do not eat".
The next part might work better with a young hero team, cause despite the note, someone took a bite of the fudge for breakfast.
Danny clearly gets mad, they didn't know, but they just ate an offering, a great offense to the dead it was offered to.
It all ends in a big fight, Danny doesn't want to admit that it was an offering for himself (it just hurts to admit that nobody remembers his death), and the other person thinks he's just having a tantrum over some fudge, like, c'mon, they can make you some if it's SO important to you 😒
And I don't know how to end it cause it came to me while falling asleep and don't remember more T-T
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