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.
17K notes
·
View notes
I DONT KNOW WHY, but bewitched by laufey awfully reminds me of knight ghost with princess reader
except the song would be ghost's pov
abso-fucking-lutely you're right on all of that. Here's the bewitching:
If you'd told Ghost that he'd be called on to be the crown princess's personal guard, he would've laughed. He would've told you he was hardly interested in such an "honor" and that he's sure her most royal brattiness must have better prospects to scare off. Surely you must have been such a petty handful that the other knights offered the position had declined, leaving him next in the long line.
Although, it was flattering to hear he was even in consideration. He'd sure worked his ass off to be the best of the best. Making something out of nothing but a failing title thanks to his father's- Well, the man was a better father 6ft underground than he'd ever been in life, and that's all he really needed to say on it. Ghost didn't think much of the summons. He couldn't ignore it, of course, but that didn't mean he had to take it seriously. He could run a little late.
Ghost's pace is slow as he walks through the castle. Admiring the architecture, he told his escort, who looked far less than pleased with that answer. He did his best to stall, hopefully the princess would be fuming by the time he arrived and he could be dismissed easily. No muss, no fuss.
Uneven footsteps race down the hall behind him as he and his escort turn the corner. He pays it no mind, likely a maid, no reason to pay them mind. Until they slam into his back and bounce off. He turns, wide eyed, in time to see you fall on the floor, landing hard on your ass with a pained expression. It doesn't fit such a pretty face. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and Ghost has to shake himself out of staring at you. His escort has already scurried ahead to see about buying him some time.
"You alright?" Ghost asks, helping you to your feet. You wobble a little, he keeps hold of your hand to keep you steady. "You broken?" He tries, brow furrowing at your changing height as you shift on your feet. He doesn't know you, he certainly wouldn't be here if he did.
"No," You lift your foot, and Ghost glances down, one of your feet already in just a sock, "but, I'm afraid I'm running terribly late." You tell him, glancing behind you and pushing your hair out of your face as you unlace your remaining shoe.
"Maybe I can help you, where-" Ghost watches as you tug your shoe off and shove it against chest.
"Hold that please," He blinks, and takes the heel from you, judging by your clothes you must be of high status. He's never seen a lady running around barefoot before. "Now if you'll excuse me, Sir Knight, I really am in a rush, and I have a baron hot on my tail attempting to hold me hostage another hour still."
Another glance behind you, one Ghost leans to check for as well. You must be quick to have outrun a man he can't even see the sweat of. He wonders if you lost your other shoe somewhere along the way or if you, perhaps, threw it at the baron to buy yourself some time. That look in your eyes is wickedly clever when it meets his again. You nod to him once and slip around him to take off running again.
"Wait, I'm-" Ghost stops, and sighs watching you slide around another corner. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He grumbles to himself, tossing your shoe to his other hand as he walks. He'll pass it off to his escort once he meets up with him again. He's pretty sure he went the same way you did.
The escort looks rather harried when he spots him in front of the reception chamber's doors. Big fancy things that have guards waiting to open them on either side. His escort enters to tell the King and Queen that the newest guard candidate has arrived. Ghost tries not to eavesdrop.
"I haven't needed an escort since I was a little girl I'm-"
"A flight risk," The Queen says firmly
"I'd hardly call running from a daft old man a flight risk," The King grumbles. Ghost chuckles a little to himself. His escort slips back out of the throne room to tell him they're not quite ready for him. Which seems strange considering how much time they've had to prepare.
A maid exits one of the nearby rooms with a pair of slippers and something clicks in Ghost's head. Despite his escort's best attempts at stopping him, Ghost enters the throne room with the maid, and watches your sweet face fall as silence covers the royal family. The maid too, it seems, doesn't know what to do.
"Sir Simon Riley," Ghost announces himself, "I was called about being her highness's personal guard."
"It seems you've already run into each other," The Queen's lips purse, eyes on the heeled shoe in Ghost's hands. He offers the offending shoe to the maid, and takes the slippers.
"This is really-" You whisper to him, Ghost hums, slips the silk slipper onto your foot. You swallow, try again, "I'm sorry to have troubled you, I can't imagine how you must think of me."
"Briefly," He tells her. You're still standing at the bottom of the steps to the throne; apparently having had time only to argue with your parents, not take your seat, in the time between bumping into him and getting here.
"Sir Riley," you start.
"Ghost," he corrects you, "if I'm going to be your guard, I'd like you to call me Ghost."
"Ghost," you start again, not even a hint of annoyance in your voice. Actually, you sound a little embarrassed. It's cute. He likes how easily you give in to him. "I'm sure you'd find this position terribly boring, and a waste of your many talents."
Ghost drops to one knee, and pats his thigh, you quickly raise your foot to settle on him.
"I mean, I'm really not the flight risk my mother thinks I am, and I hardly think you want to accompany me on diplomatic excursions-" he holds your ankle to slip the new house shoe on "-or trips into town. Wouldn't you rather be off, I don't know, fighting marauders and dragons?"
"What do you think knights do, princess?" He smiles, setting your foot on the floor and prompting you for the other one. "It's my privilege to serve you, one I'm enjoying so far."
You feel heat brust over your cheeks, finally taking in the man in front of you. This man is a trained combatant and yet here he is helping you put your shoes on. Christ, you'd literally run into him, and now he was. Why was he treating you so nicely, he should be laughing at the idea of serving you.
"No," He murmurs back, "You can't imagine what I think of you." He stands as you settle your foot back on the ground, and takes your hand, bowing his head to kiss the back of it. "But, rest assured those thoughts are good, my lady."
744 notes
·
View notes
Break a leg (dp x dc)
"So, the food here is pretty sweet," the girl sitting next to him starts.
Damian hums before remembering he's supposed to be gathering intel and that means he has to talk to people.
"There aren't a lot of vegetarian options," he manages with a tight smile, making sure to look like he is stressed over the audition.
"Oh yeah, that's true," the girl says and falls quiet for a moment.
Damian looks back down at the script he's reading, though he knows the lines by heart. And then the girl speaks up again.
"So how'd you get here?" she says as she swings her legs. "My name's Dani by the way, what's yours?"
Damian folds up the papers carefully. "I'm Stephan," he says. "My agent suggested I try out for a movie role." He offers the girl a convincing shy smile. "How about you?"
"Some guy came up to me and wanted me to audition for this. I thought he was a child trafficker so I followed him. Turns out he wasn't and now I'm here," the girl said before shrugging.
"Why did you follow a man who you thought was a child trafficker?"
"To beat him up," the girl answered.
"Oh." Damian is going to assume that's a joke, if only to preserve his last bit of faith in human intelligence. He's pretty sure every child knows to go away from criminals, not towards.
"Who are you auditioning for?" Dani asks.
"I'm trying for Lennox," Damian answers, shuffling his papers as if nervous.
"A lead," the girl exclaims before extending a fist. "Nice, dude. I believe in you." Damian internally sneers at the gesture but outwardly, he smiles sheepishly and knocks his knuckles against hers. "I'm going for Abigail," the girl continues. "If this goes well, we might end up working together soon, huh?"
"Hopefully," Damian answers with a smile.
Dani smiles back widely and is about to answer when a lady steps out into the room.
"Danielle Nightingale?"
The girl gets to her feet with a chirped "present!" The lady gestures to follow before walking back out. Dani looks over to Damian. "Wish me luck!" she says before twirling away without giving Damian the chance to actually answer.
Damian sits in silence as he looks back down at the script when his earpiece crackles to life.
"Wow, baby bat, that was downright sweet," Brown's whistle comes over the coms. "When's the wedding?"
"I will hurt you," Damian hisses back, hiding his mouth behind the papers.
"Just saying," she sing-songs. "You were awfully chummy out there."
"I was trying to follow your instructions," he bites out quietly. "Or would you have preferred I didn't?"
"No, no, I prefer my civilians un-stabbed," Spoiler answers lightly. "I just didn't know you had it in you."
"I was trained for infiltration," Damian points out. "I know how to lie."
"That is good news because we need you to get on that crew," Brown says. "Ready to blow their minds?"
Damian lets himself have a little smirk, hidden behind the script. "They won't know what hit them."
480 notes
·
View notes