#IT HURT ME TOO OKAY

[grace-pricilla-taylor]

❛  remember me once in a while — please promise me you'll try.  ❜ ( Sean // sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins )

TW: Death, grief, blood, alcohol, food.

The sound of slow hoofbeats caught the ear of Grace. While it would have been a relief any other time, this felt different. Dread settled on her heart with no hint of an explanation. She noticed others had gotten the same feeling and began to wander out of their tents and stray from their tasks. There could only be one thing that made them all feel the same thing; death.

Who, she wondered, had been on the receiving end of a bullet or blade? What voice would she no longer hear early in the mornings and what sets of clothing would she never wash blood from again?

Still, the camp remained silent as Bill and Micah came into view. She couldn't remember a time the camp had been so quiet. Even in the middle of the night, there was quiet talking or music from Javiers guitar but this...this was excessively silent.

The body laid over the hind end of Bills horse, she could see how the arms and legs hung limp, and Bills sullen face. She had started to consider that the body wasnt dead but in dire need of medical assistance but the look on Bills face alone told her otherwise.

The body that once bound a dearly beloved man to this earth came into view. Graces world fell silent, deafened by her own heartbeat rapidly pounding in her ears. This couldn't be. It was always a risk when living this life but this? No.

Ginger hair that matched hers covered in blood, green eyes dull, lifeless, and a tongue that had spoken with her mothers accent would never sound.

Sean, her best friend, and her brother was dead.

She registered the feeling of a hand on her shoulder but she could not turn to see who it was or take in the comfort it offered. She watched on in horror as he was moved. Her stomach turned in knots, threatening to spill the deer meat she'd eaten only an hour ago.

Then all hell broke loose. People asking a million questions, snapping to anger and thoughts of revenge, or breaking down in loud sobs around her. She caught wind of a few details but could not retain them or focus.

All she could do was stare at Sean.

____

Hours, countless drinks to numb the pain, and a few short conversations passed. The energy in the camp was long gone, dead and buried with Sean just outside of camp with a wooden cross marking its presence.

The camp remained silent, most simmering in a blinding rage, others drowning in their tears alone in tents or bedrolls.

Sitting on the dock of the lake soothed a drunk Grace very little. There was emptiness and silence beside her where usually Sean would have sat and talked her ear off. She found that she missed his rambunctious personality already.

"Remember me once in a while — please promise me you'll try."

She heard his voice as though he was sitting beside her, clear as day. He was there, he had to be, even if it wasnt physically. Or was her drunken mind coping with the fact that she'd never see him, hear him, or feel his rough hands again?

Graces jaw clenched as the weight of her grief settled in her chest. The first tears slipped out despite how hard she squeezed her eyes shut to keep them away. The lump in her throat grew and she felt like she couldn't breathe past it. Grace could swear she felt Seans hand rest atop the one she had gripping the edge of the dock. It was a desperate attempt to keep herself in check but it did not help. How could it when grief was all consuming and never-ending? The person she wanted was not here with her, no matter what she felt or heard. Regardless, she choked out a whisper of an answer to the disembodied voice. "I promise."

@sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[obsob]

there he is......the man of the house

[aenslem]

Then employ one of your own superstitions. Wish me luck.

[bruhstation]

you never change, do you

[mattodore]

he's waiting on a call he's planning to send straight to voicemail

[quietwingsinthesky]

i really do think the desire to paint ten as unambiguously The Worst™️ when it comes to his relationship with martha is out of this desire to uncomplicate their relationship. to decouple them as friends and people who profoundly impacted each other’s lives. it’s just an easier narrative to swallow: that ten was Awful to her and then martha kicked him to the curb when she realized she was too good for him. easier, maybe, then dealing with the troubles of unrequited affection don’t have to be anyone’s fault, or that ten shut martha out in a lot of ways but let her in in others that he wouldn’t let any other companion near, or that they were still friends, they still wanted to see each other and be around each other, even though it was messy and sometimes hurt. you know?

[writer-room]

Hey. The Finders have no idea that Bonzle was captured. Fritz and Spitz are still waiting, playing video games in the Monastery, for Cole to bring their sister out of hiding now that the blood moon is over. Geo is still sitting by the window, watching and waiting for a dragon on the horizon to return his kid safe and sound. Cole took a very unsure Bonzle, assured them all everything would be okay, and they'd be back soon. He promised he'd find a way to protect her.

Don't think about how they'll smile when Cole finally trudges back, happy to know he's okay. Especially don't think about the Finders stopping, looking out over the group, and how Cole can't look them in the eyes when they turn to him and ask; where's Bonzle?

[shima-draws]

My brain: Haha yeah I dunno if I’ll ever get into One Piece I mean it’s so long and such a huge dedication timewise—

Me, already 13 episodes in: Um. Well,

[cupophrogs]

1. Dog day…why did you say when you saw your husbands picture “ he’s alive????” Did you think he was dead.

"The passage of time is worthless when you there's nothing you can count on, except pain. So I always assumed my past life, and everything in it, was already gone. Hope is a very fickle thing, down here."

(Based on this song)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Collection of edits from this comic with Disco Elysium dialogue.

[skyward-floored]

fic idea for lu where all of the Links dead bio parents are chilling up in the sacred realm or wherever and they all get together and watch all of their sons meet and goof off and are basically just the unseen cheering section

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

[obsob]

a redraw of ‘lament for icarus’ by herbert james draper ✷

[spocks-kaathyra]

do u think that um. yk Julian was having a rough time in the later seasons. and ofc he wants to talk abt it, wants someone to help him process it, wants someone to just listen. but it's not easy to talk abt. and he wants to talk to Garak, wants Garak to know what's going on in his life, wants to be vulnerable and be met with support and care. but Garak is so emotionally unavailable and so unwilling to break his pleasant facade and so unwilling to deviate from their little social script. he was taught never to show care or vulnerability. and Julian gets so tired of playing their little game when, god, there's a war going on, his life is falling apart, can't Garak even acknowledge how bad things are for both of them? he doesn't need witty retorts, he needs sincerity. and Garak can't give him that. so he withdraws from their friendship. and it's not that Garak doesn't care. it's not that he doesn't want to help. but sincerity and vulnerability were beaten out of him a long time ago, and he doesn't know how to take off his mask. even just acknowledging genuine emotion is practically impossible for him. and maybe that's why ASIT is the apology that it is. it's saying, here, I've learned to be honest, I've learned to be vulnerable. I know the harm I caused you by refusing to acknowledge pain, so here's a whole book of me acknowledging pain.

[vigilskeep]

ranking da love interests on a scale of how unhinged theyd be if their beloved was made tranquil (they would all be maximum unhinged its just a matter of deciding what flavour)