Writing snippets
I'm gonna try and put a snip of my writing each day.
3/13/2023 - The Day it Fell Apart
Andre stopped paying attention to the game of stones after a round or two. There seemed to be some sort of point counting system that he couldn’t wrap his head around properly, and he was starting to run out of smooth stones anyways.
Jay seemed to be having fun, though, tying up his long silver hair, ears perked, and sleeves rolled up as he cradled flat stones in the end of his robe.
Andre grinned, noticing how close to the water the Wyril was standing. He surreptitiously picked up a large rock as Jay was consumed by counting out his skips and calculating the score in whatever cursed scoring system he had in his head and, with a stifled laugh, Andre heaved the stone forward.
Jay yelped, leaping back as the water droplets showered onto him, the stones falling and rattling to the ground around him.
3/14/2023 - Crypts of the Decayed
The student didn’t even look down, and, in an effort to not bump into Lord Belliaro, he checked Kaden’s shoulder, throwing the smaller mage through an open doorway, stumbling.
Kaden whirled his arms, trying to regain his balance, but full back, crashing into something he knew was a spell of some kind. It felt like he had crashed straight through a semi solid pillar and he yelped, a bruise already forming on his upper back.
There was a moment of silence before a magical alarm started wailing and Kaden felt the magic in the room begin to unravel. Horrified, he leapt to his feet, hearing his father calling out his name.
Kaden dashed out of the room against the mages pushing to get in and reinstate the pillars. He nearly fell, almost trampled by the mages rushing here and there when his father came from out of nowhere, scooping him up and dashing through the hall, shouldering people out of the way. The two pretty much flew down the steps into the ballroom, dashing to get to the other side, as something huge groaned above them.
“I didn’t mean to break it!” Kaden shouted over the noise of people screaming and yelling and the creaking overhead.
“I know!” his father gasped. “We need to get out of her-”
Josh slipped on the well polished floor, Kaden falling from his arms as he tried to slow his momentum and go back for him.
“DAD!”
“KADEN!”
Above there was a shrill shriek from the building itself, then silence before the ceiling collapsed and the world disappeared under shrapnel and bits of building.
(Comments are fully welcomed if you have a moment and let me know if you want to be on any tag lists)
Crypts of the Decayed tag list: @writingonesdreams @stupid-elf @ameliedebruyne @my-cursed-prince
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Things I'd love for the Internet to leave in 2023:
• misusing the word "delusional" or saying "delulu"
• public freakout videos that are just someone displaying psychotic symptoms
• "I'm in your walls" and other paranoia triggering "jokes"
• schizoposting
• misusing the word "psychotic"
• baiting and triggering people online who are openly psychotic or displaying psychotic symptoms
• excluding schizo-spec and psychotic people from any neurodiversity/mental illness awareness
Let's just all try to be better to schizo-spec and psychotic people. And hold others accountable as well.
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lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)
if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.
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no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.
I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.
I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.
If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.
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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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