#st survivor

[ghxst-system]

google how do u cope knowing u escaped while living with the guilt that the others didnt

-Huxley [He/It]

[animatedjen]

Cal Kestis | Jedi Survivor

[lunabug2004]

Something I've noticed recently is the difference in which people notice or think/talk about Nancy and Mike's survivor's guilt.

People seem to be much more open to the notion of Nancy having survivor's guilt, also they tend to pick up on it easier, and I think the reason for this Nancy actually kinda demonstrates herself in s2, when talking to Jonathan when she says "Yeah, but it's different for you. Will came home."

Now, Mike feels survivor's guilt in connection to both Will and El, and Nancy for Barb, and the difference between them is that both Will and El actually survive. But the thing that people tend to forget is that Mike saw Will's "dead body", he saw El disappear in front of his own eyes just to not hear from her for almost a year, he saw his best friend's body and mind be taken over by a terrifying monster (who he had just told he wouldn't let happen to him a day or so before). So, yes, El and Will may not be dead, but in any case, esp in Mike's 11-14 year old brain, that doesn't really mean much at all. Mental illnesses don't go away just because the thing that caused them did. I mean, that's legitimately what PTSD is!

Talking about s2 specifically for example, even at the beginning of the season, most of the GA already knew that El was still alive, but knew for sure that Barb was dead. The show parallels Nancy and Mike in ep 1, with Nancy crying in Barb's house and Mike looking terribly upset while boxing up toys in his basement. Despite this parallel though, most people I've watched only pick up on Nancy's survivor's guilt. Even though Mike goes on to try and contact El, who he still (mostly) believes is dead, lots of people just go "aw that's sad" or "aw that's sweet" and move on.

Idk if it's just because he's younger, or that, as I said before, the audience knows El is still alive, but it's always seemed to me that people don't take Mike's mental health problems as seriously as they take Nancy's when really, they're in a very similar boat.

[star-wars-forever]

[elguritch-art]

Just Like Then

Days. Days and nights both. Listening to it- her- scream. Scream like it was that same night, reverberating in his head, in his chest, just like it had done over a hundred years ago as she died. And he'd done nothing.

(Short Story of Session Events Under the Cut)

Virgil was still doing nothing. Curled up on the indistinguishable void floor in front of the locked door of- Of whatever Warlock hellscape he'd willingly walked into. Because he thought he saw her. Saw Crowbait. Saw the kindred who'd become a sister to him after his embrace, who'd been the bridge between him and the rest of the pack's languages, who'd seen how damaged and hurt he was and showed him tenderness and compassion-

And here she was. But wrong. It wasn't her. It was her. A mismatch of flesh, a face that wasn't her's. A harmony of voices that spoke as if she were in there, but too wrong all the same…

…

…

…

His pack had always talked about what if one of the Warlocks got them. Or a Fiend. The two most dangerous to be caught by. Because they wouldn't just give any of them the Final Death. They'd use them. Change them. Just like now.

…They'd always talked about what to do, if it happened. Virgil had felt it. Every one of them having a rippling sense of pain at the words spoken, "Put them down with mercy and kindness. We'll know. They'll know. All of us will understand." Just like a horse with a broken leg, or a dog caught in a hunting trap. Quickly. Cleanly. With mercy. With love.

Virgil slowly, shakily pushed himself up, the screaming still ringing in his ears, dried and fresh blood running down the side of his neck from his eardrums that had rebuilt and burst numerous times over.

Get up. Do it quick. Do it clean. She'd know. She'd know.

He slowly stood, clutching her sawed-off in his left hand, his right drifting to his own right thigh. He only took one step towards her when the screaming stopped.

Virgil slowly drug his eyes up from the void to meet the wretched, misshapen face, with too many eyes, too many jaws, flesh barely clinging to bone. He met the eyes of a creature knowing it was lame, and wanted to die, and it made his gut wrench in a way that made him want to throw up. Not because of the creature's face.

Because when he looked into the eyes, he finally saw her. He couldn't ignore it, tell himself it was just a Warlock trick, because that was her. That was the way she looked at him a hundred years back, whenever she wanted to pry him to do something for her but she didn't want to voice it until he himself voiced the question for her.

Virgil shakily pulled out his Walker, spurs softly jingling as he crossed the space back over to her. His hand was shaking so bad, he almost wondered if he'd drop the damn thing and it'd fire off on itself. Maybe hit himself in the head by accident and finish what he himself couldn't do. But he leveled it at her forehead, staring down the barrel, his trigger finger going numb.

"I always… Hoped it would be this gun… That did me in…" The jumbled voices quieted, making one voice distinct enough to pick out, speaking in Spanish this time instead of the American words she knew he never fully liked.

He wanted to throw up again. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to let La Bestia go and take care of this for him so he didn't need to do this with his own hands.

Virgil let out a breathless, haunted half-laugh, not able to find much else he could do.

"Enjoy those three minutes, Snakebite." She said, a hint of a tease in her voice. Just like then.

"...Least I'm not in the middle of a goddamn firefight to do it." He quietly replied back, returning to his first language himself, barely keeping the tremble from his words. Words he'd said to her a hundred years back, sitting at camp after a raid.

"They… Were wrong." She softly croaked.

His hand had gone cold, the barrel wavering. Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger.

Words came out of Snakebite's mouth instead, "...What do you mean by that?"

"It wasn't your fault… None of that was." The tattered corners of the jaws and teeth turned up into a smile. Her smile.

Red tears welled up, finally coming forth, and he fought to keep them from fully pouring over. Not yet. "Last damn time I'm going to disagree with you, on this one." He said, a weak smile on his face. Just like a hundred years back. Disagreeing with her, but he never meant it with vitriol. Never. "I'm sorry." His voice faintly cracked.

"What does that make it then…?" She asked back, that hint of a taunt in her words. Just like then.

"I don't know… It…" His throat closed up, the warmth of the tears trickling down his sun-worn cheeks. "It makes it so you all aren't here with me." He bitterly, emotionally croaked out.

Crowbait mused for a second, claws twitching on the floor. "Your heart- Well… Your heart doesn't beat anymore, but it's still in there…"

Snakebite shook his head. His arm was cold. "Scarcely feels like it." His voice was breaking each time he spoke.

"But it is. 'Cause you'd be dead, chucklehead." Crowbait returned, shifting forward, onto her knees, closer to the gun barrel.

He couldn't keep looking at her, lowering his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry." He barely got the words out, the tears nearly burning at his skin.

He heard her shift again, then felt the tips of her claws graze his wrist, his fingers. She gently cupped his shaking hand, steadying it, and he felt her forehead press up against the barrel of his gun. "Don't be, I'm glad it was you."

Just like a hundred years back. His first kill. The first time she helped him feed. With a bullet instead of his teeth. Steading his hand, just like then, because she knew, he knew, that he'd pull the trigger. He wouldn't walk away. Couldn't walk away. The gun was already in his hand, the hammer cocked back.

Virgil drew in a shuddered breath, keeping his head down. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't see it again. Her fingers curled around his hand, squeezing it, reassuring him so he could follow through with the promise the entire pack had made to each other. "Wish it didn't have to be." He croaked, finger curling once.

The gunshot echoed longer in his head then it should have. The smell of the powder didn't bring him comfort this time. The weight of the Walker feeling a thousand times heavier then he knew it was.

He opened his eyes, staring down at his boots, slowly dragging it across the ground to her form. Still. Quiet. Unmoving. Slowly crumbling to ash.

The door at his side clicked.

Virgil turned, holstering his Walker, the tears streaming freely down his face. He hadn't pulled the trigger on them all a hundred years back. It were the Law that did that. But it'd been his fault they'd been able to take aim at all. And now this time, he'd had to take aim himself. Pull the trigger himself.

Virgil Lawrence. The Cursebringer. Everyone died around him. Be it his fault, or his own hand. It always happened. Just like then.

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

ILM Art Department Challenge - Survivor by Joshua Cairos

[iwillbreakyourfuckingskull]

I love being a physically and mentally strong 35 y/o man who can fight back and take no shit from people and never having been a little girl who was sexually abused by her own family. Right? That never happened to me.... right guys??

[beevean]

HELL TO THE YEAH THE BABYGIRLS ARE ALL HERE (and drac i suppose)

[ghxst-system]

what hurts is the fact i can never say the thoughts about what i went thru out loud because its so fucking scary

all the shit they make u think and feel to the point theres a part in my head that just wants it all back.. i hate it

[animatedjen]

In Dreams | Cal Kestis

[cammoreno]

Cute boy.

[jetsimpersonator]

Made a slug st. Au relationship chart, note that there's a few more characters in the AU, I just didn't want to add them into the chart because that would be .. A lot. Also, *most* slugs in the AU will already know each other with the exception of Saint, Enot and Nightcat, who in the case of Enot, are just not well known in the community, but in the case of NC and Saint, have reputation that would make slugs hesitant to interact with them. No lines just means that I haven't thought of their dynamic yet or I didn't find it notable enough to use a line for- if I used a line for every single dynamic we'd be here all day.

Specifics under cut:

[danganronpabirthdays]

hi! If its not too much trouble- are there any characters with birthdays on sep 28?

Yep! Here are some there are no canon characters but here are some characters from fangans!

Characters with Birthdays on Sep 29th:

Kaji Sakakida (Danganronpa: Negative Project)

Kako Kokureiin (Danganronpa: RE 3)

Kiroku Hitto (Danganronpa: Despair Awaken)

Meme Koaido (Danganronpa X2)

Rika Iwasaki (Danganronpa: Survivor's Guilt)

Seima Masai (If Story Danganronpa)

Shinsuke Andou (Danganronpa Re/Volution)

Taka Shiasa (Danganronpa ST)

[riality-check]

Max, Eddie, and found family feels

Summary:

“He was such a prick,” Max whispers. “And I hate that I feel bad, and I hate that I don’t feel bad.”

Eddie sits back down across from Max and tries to wrack his brain for an intelligent thing to say.

He settles on, “You’re allowed to feel however you feel.”

Max snorts. “But isn’t it fucked up either way?”

“Welcome to Hawkins, Red,” Eddie says dryly. “We’re all fucked up here.”

OR

On a Sunday morning, Eddie and Max talk about survivor's guilt, cycles of abuse, and good ways to feel big.

[unstablemotions]

It's probably not normal to have your earliest memories be masturbating with your comfort blanket and fav plushie while imagining you were being killed by some big monster, but yeah 😬

[iwillbreakyourfuckingskull]

Kinda uhhh realising maybe it's not normal to masturbate while having daydreams about being violently abused to death when you're like 4 years old every night before bed. Maybe it is not normal that some of your earliest memories are of you lying still with your eyes open and holding your breath seeing how dead you can be in your bed after imaging yourself being murdered. Maybe it's not normal when strange men walk up to your mom after you did belly dancing for a school play when you were 7 to tell her how great you were at it and how you were so captivating. And for my mom to brag about me appealing to a strange father like that. And for her mom to brag about it too. How I was so charming and beautiful and smart and a natural performer. How I was groomed by my own grandma for her own sadistic pleasures of manipulating children into doing what she wanted. A little song bird in its cage. A puppy doing tricks for its family. A child wanting to be loved by being useful to their family. A sister wanting to take on the burden of being the perfect doll to protect her younger siblings without even understanding that that was what she was doing. A little girl acting without even thinking. Just going along as if she didn't have free will. Just like a robot doing what it was built to do when you press the button. Don't think. Just do. Don't think. Just. Do.

I am so overwhelmed. I am fatigued. I feel so isolated and lonely. I cant tell anyone I know. I dont have many clear memories. My body remembers, but what precisely it's reliving, I don't know. Im scared to know. I want her dead