im disgusted with myself.
why am i so sad??
i was just gonna get ready to go out with my dog and instead i got hit by the realization that there’s no point in actually “getting ready” because I’ll just look awful and feel awful because i have no one to go hang out with and my dog will piss me off in the middle of the street as always and I’ll regret every fucking decision on my whole life that lead me to this moment
crying makes my skin so soft 🥰🥰🥰
No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue
“C'mon,” Will grit out, panting as he readjusted his friend’s arm over his shoulders again. “Keeping helping me. C'mon.”
Gilan was trying; however, there was only so much one could do when he had a large gash through the back of his thigh, rendering the leg practically useless. Factoring in the blood loss… Gilan was in no state to help anyone, and Will knew it.
Without warning, Gilan buckled. He’d have pulled both of them to the ground had it not been for Will’s agility and reaction time. Will ended up on one knee, bracing a hand against Gilan’s chest to keep him semi upright. “Gilan. Gil, hey. You’re alright. C'mon- up-”
“Will,” Gilan gasped out. “This isn’t working.”
The younger Ranger ignored the words, instead taking the time to check the rough field bandage he had thrown on Gilan’s injury in a feeble attempt to stem the blood flow. The fabric was soaked through and skewed, and Will bit out a curse. Absently patting Gilan’s chest a few times, Will then propped his friend against his shoulder and prepared to readjust the slipped bandage, because Gilan couldn’t afford to lose anymore blood to the forest floor-
“Will, you’ve gotta go.”
“Yeah, we’re going, just give me a moment to fix this,” Will replied distractedly. Gilan hissed in pain as the bandage pulled tight, reaching fingers out to insistently grab Will’s sleeve. Their weak grip made Will pause and turn to meet Gilan’s bloodless face. “What?”
“You have to go.”
Will simply stared for a moment before his face twisted. “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “I’m not leaving you, so just stop.”
Wearily wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Gilan doggedly shook his head. “They’re going to catch up, and… I can’t keep going.”
“Yes, you can!”
Gilan gave a faint, sad smile. “No,” he answered gently, sounding immensely tired. “I can’t.”
“Then let them come,” Will snarled, drawing his saxe. Gilan’s face scrunched in distress.
“No! Just get out of here! Think about Halt - you don’t want to that to him, do you?” The older Ranger hissed, locking eyes with Will. For all the pain they were in, they were also alight with defiance.
Will scoffed and pulled the bandage tighter, making Gilan groan. “Don’t be stupid. Halt has two apprentices, idiot. Neither of us are dying here, alright? Now, c'mon, time to back get up.”
“You didn’t see him after you were taken to Skandia,” Gilan wheezed, breath hitching as Will yanked him back up. “You didn’t see him in Arrida. He lives for you, Will. Please, just go. Better me than you.”
Gilan sounded so resigned, so sincere, that for a moment Will just gaped at him. “… Why would you even say that?” he said finally said, tone heated and face horrified.
Gilan was spared from answering by the sound of rough trampling through the underbrush. Both Rangers automatically turned toward the sound, and a long moment later, Horace burst into view.
“There you two are! We couldn’t find you, and the blood trail, and we had to take care of the others, and Halt is finishing up with them, and…” The knight gasped for air, eyes frantically roving up and down his two friends, at Will supporting an ashen Gilan. “Gilan. Will, what do we need?”
“Yeah, the horses are nearby, Horace, right?” Will said tightly, and Horace nodded as he moved forward to take Gilan’s weight. “Good. I’m going to get them. Horace, stay here and get more compression on the wound. I’ll be back soon.”
If Horace noticed the tension or the way that Will refused to look at Gilan, instead passing the latter over to Horace and immediately stalking off into the trees, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, the warrior pulled out his own handkerchief, and with a quick apology to a quiet Gilan, pulled it tight.
Gilan gave a pained yelp, and it was almost a mercy when he finally passed out into Horace’s shoulder.
“You need to stop putting holes in yourself,” Halt said, briefly resting a hand on his former apprentice’s hair before retreating and settling into one of the chairs. They had tracked down a healer in a small, nearby village, and Gilan shrugged from the cot where he sat propped, the gash underside his thigh looking far more manageable now that it was carefully and neatly wrapped in crisp white bandages. He’d been lucky. “Any deeper,” the healer had said in wonder and relief, “And you’d be looking at a limp for the rest of your life. As is it, you should be all right, so long as you let it heal properly.”
“You’re telling me,” the tall Ranger said lightly in response to Halt’s complaint, though there was an undercurrent of strain in his tone. Halt flicked his eyes to Will, who sat slumped in his chair with his feet propped on the small table, twirling his throwing knife between his fingers. The tension in the room was practically tangible.
Halt raised his eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”
An awkward silence followed, before Will suddenly slammed his knife flat down on the table. “No, everything’s not all right. This one-” he gestured roughly to Gilan, “Tried to make me leave him today because of some stupid notion that his life is worth less than mine. He even went as far as to suggest that only my death would be upsetting to you, Halt - that he would hardly factor in at all in comparison. And as much as I would like to blame it on delirium from blood loss, I need an explanation, for my own sake, at least.”
Heaving a breath, Will leaned back again and crossed his arms, eyes trained heavily on Gilan as he waited. Gilan’s face had gone practically grey during Will’s rant, and he opened his mouth wordlessly for a moment before closing it again, looking very much like a cornered animal under Will and Halt’s stares.
It was Halt who broke the silence. “Gilan, is this true?” he asked, his expression and tone carefully blank. Halt knew Gilan would never flat out lie to him, and felt himself sink as his first apprentice withered under the question.
“It’s not like that,” Gilan answered finally, face hot and throat tight because it wasn’t like that and he hated being on the spot like this. Halt and Will had a special relationship, everyone knew that. Gilan knew that. Will had experienced his first taste of family only when Halt had taken him as an apprentice - Halt, the first person who had truly wanted Will for being Will. And with Halt, came the Rangers, a tight knit group that was practically a family in itself… and more specifically, with Halt came Gilan, practically a built in older brother, due to Gilan’s former position as Halt’s apprentice. Gilan loved Will. Gilan had a family of his own and a plethora of father figures. Gilan and Halt’s relationship was different - Gilan simply hadn’t needed the older Ranger the way that Will did, a fact that Gilan understood and respected.
However, as much as Gilan understood that, and as much as he convinced himself that being the second favorite didn’t hurt… sometimes it did.
“It’s not like that,” he repeated, then fluttered a hand towards the youngest Ranger. “Will is… Will. You two need each other.” You wouldn’t need me, hung unspoken in the air.
Halt didn’t answer for a long moment, absorbing the words. “When I apprenticed you both,” he said finally, “I took an oath to protect you. This oath still stands. I don’t mean it lightly when I say that I would die for either of you in an instant.” Halt nodded to Gilan. “I need you to understand how important you are to me.”
Gilan nodded slowly, his eyes shiny. Halt leaned forward to tightly embrace the younger man. Gilan responded in kind, clinging to his mentor like a small child. Halt whispered something in his ear, and when they pulled away, Gilan was smiling.
Will leaned in for his turn, all anger -no, fear- gone from his being. “Self-sacrificial is a bad look on you,” the youngest Ranger said as he firmly hugged his friend, and Gilan gave a wet laugh.
From the doorway, his arms full of food, Horace smiled. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but he’d resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that he would always be a half-step behind these Rangers.
The warrior cleared his throat. “I have food. Anyone interested in a cup of coffee?”
A resounding chorus of “Always” answered, and Horace knew everything was fine.
I am officially the most useless person on the face of this Earth. Missing the good old days when I had a purpose or at least could simply take care of myself without being a burden.
Sometimes I want to bundle up everything that makes me who I am…and throw it all into the ocean. Then turn around and become someone else.
since i’m still sleeping in mom’s room with her, tonight i’m playing this fun little game called “how much can i push myself to cry and then swallow the tears before they come?”
I always feel bad when I feel positive posts about infodumping - “don’t be afraid to infodump, you’re not annoying or boring me, I love listening to you talk”
Because I feel so guilty every time, that I can’t do that, I don’t enjoy it when someone infodumps to me.
But I just realized that’s not at all because I don’t like the infodumping– I have ADHD, I need to multi-task, and I keep telling myself that if I’m not putting my full attention on the person speaking, I’m terrible.
That results in me focusing so hard on focusing that I miss half of what the other is saying and am forced to nod along and feel guilty and unable to follow, and that’s what makes me dislike others infodumping. That’s something I can fix.
I hate that I feel most grounded in reality when intoxicated
Whenever I feel like I’m getting better.
I get sucked straight back in.
Even when I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
What have you done to me?
it is so hard to feel motivated to draw, especially when youre in a moment where you feel like everything you do is a failure.
they don’t need you you’re not special
Bitches really be out here having everything and still wanting more. It’s me. I’m bitches.
My town is so quiet. If I had been anywhere else I would have been to way more parties. Probably would have done more drugs. Had more sex. I just think about how bad I am still but how much worse it could have been. What does it matter though? Nothing is fucking real anyways.
I need to stop reading “ace discourse” before trying to sleep. It makes me so upset and uncomfortable and then I have to spend a long time calming down enough to sleep. I hate it but I do it anyway knowing that I’ll have nothing to say because I’ll just lay there and internalize it and then I’ve fucked over my sleep schedule and my self-esteem. I’ve got more than enough reasons for my brain to say I’m not enough, I don’t need to keep actively seeking out more.
For the first time since well, ever, I’m so sad and self depreciating that even my parents have noticed. I never let them notice my self critique. But it’s getting so extreme now that they’ve noticed it and are actively trying to make me believe I am less mediocre than I think I am. It’s so sweet. But also will never work. But it’s SO SWEET.
Sometimes people go “I’m not cute” and I’m like????? Okay??? your level or lack of cute does not in any way define your value as a person????