#survivior's guilt

[operatorsickness]

jam… jam jam jam thinks about jam… hhrhghggrhhhhhhh… jjjjjam…

[thegrimreepurr]

dropping some guilt!cross lore rq cuz im normal about him so. beware ahead, as it contains spoilers for his story [which i WILL be writing a fic / oneshot for soon]

so, you may have been wondering: how tf did he ACCIDENTALLY kill killer? after all, one doesn't just accidentally kill the love of their life- well, uh. they were fighting shattered dream- which btw, i'm going to be using the old shattered dream for this for the sake of uh. making sense anyway they were fighting shattered dream

and y'know how the old shattered could like. hypnotise people or something? yeah well he did that to cross so cross was under shattered's control and then he ended up fatally wounding killer cuz obviously killer wasnt going to hurt him and that was when shattered let him go from that trance cuz bro is a sadist and just wanted to watch cross suffer so like, cross breaks out of this trance to see killer dying and stuff and you can probably guess the rest

[lightbulb-warning]

I survived Danganronpa and all I got was this hoodie...

he got one (1): hoodie and one (1): unimaginable amount of survivior's guilt.

[nomsfaultau]

13) “Give me your hands” and 22) Survivior’s guilt. 

Disclaimer: this blurb is set in the SCP SBI AU I have called Fault, and dances over the timeline so good luck. Explanation of AU; tldr. 

“Give me your hands.” The stranger’s voice was gruff and demanding, and Tommy complied at once. It wasn’t that he was intimidated! Sure the random demon he’d summoned was massively tall, extremely strong, and just killed a lot of people, but Tommy was an alpha male! And anyway, the bloke technically saved his life in the barest sense of the word, so he had to be a good guy. Nevermind that Tommy watched people be reduced to smears running down the walls. They were villains. That was what they deserved. Right?

Tommy held a little stiller than he preferred, acutely aware of how easily the boar hero’s fists crunched skulls in. But the enormous hooves were surprisingly gentle as they held Tommy’s hands, prodding in their examination. His hero adjusted his dorky glasses and peered closer, curiously studying the strange crimson color curling around Tommy’s fingers. Blood mixed into the ruby power dancing across Tommy’s palms, indistinguishable. 

The Blade hadn’t been the only one killing the villains. 

“...huh. I’m guessing this red stuff is what summoned me?” 

“I think so? Do you know what it is?” 

His hero grunted. “I was hoping you’d know that.”

“Nah, it only showed up a few minutes before you did.” Tommy studied his own hands just as intensely. With great concentration, he tried to get the swirling scarlet liquid to grow. Then, to disappear. It ignored him, and he frowned, not sure how the power worked. Wait. “WAIT! I have superpowers now?!”

The Blade squinted at the boy. “Uhhhhhh. Suuuuure?” Tommy pumped his fist in the air rather excitedly. He had to admit it was kinda cute even if he wasn’t a kid person. “Probably don’t tell anyone, alright?” he hazarded, suddenly a little worried the twerp was going to get himself nabbed immediately. This kid needed to shift away from Marvel to X-Men fast if he was going to survive.

“Yes! Like a secret identity! So you’re a superhero, right?” Tommy peered up hopefully. The crimson hitched upwards. “Right? Those guys were villains because they tried to murder me. That’s why you killed them, right?” There was almost a note of desperation to the question.

“Um. No.” The Blade pretty much murdered them because he was suddenly teleported into a hostile situation and was immediately attacked. Self-defense, baby. 

The ruby power spiked then, the scent of fear sharpening. But then bull-headed determination flashed in his eyes. “A vigilante then, that makes sense. Like Batman. Hey! And now I can join you and save people too! You can be my sidekick.”

“Wait hold on, no, you’re MY sidekick, not the other way around,” The Blade argued before realizing that meant he inadvertently supported Tommy’s absurd notion. He was a survivor, he didn’t have time to be a savior. If the kid wanted to read any morality into his actions that was their problem. 

“Ok. I’ll train under you until I’m too powerful and surpass you completely, and THEN you’ll be my sidekick.” For some reason, the voices didn’t feel threatened by his open intention to usurp him. Weird. For once in his life The Blade was getting zero intrusive thoughts about brutally murdering the dude he was talking to. It was kinda relaxing actually. 

Tommy held out a fist, and after belated realizing it wasn’t a (very wimpy) attack The Blade completed the fist bump. Tommy beamed at The Blade. “Thanks for saving me.” 

It was…strange. No one had ever thanked him for something like that before. And sure he’d really only incidentally saved the boy through a combination of weird coincidences, otherworldly machinations beyond their comprehension, and the fact something about Tommy’s power literally prevented him from even contemplating attacking him, but The Blade did have to admit it felt pretty nice. 

Nice, but not the reason his tail was wagging. Nope, not at all. That was all post-bloodlust high. Definitely. 

.

“Give me your hands.” Mum smiled as she said it, but it made trepidation build in Tommy’s gut. 

Tommy fixed his smile, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, you’re so clingy. I’m not a kid anymore!” 

“You’re fifteen—”

“Only for a few more weeks! I’m practically an ad-” Deviously, she lunged for his hands and he jerked back sharply. “Don’t,” he yelped a little too desperately. Tommy gulped, trying to swallow his panic. “Don’t do that I have a- have a reputation to maintain Mum, can’t be doing cheesy girly stuff like hand holding haha.” 

“Tommy-” her tone was far, far too serious as he retreated. 

“I’ll get a hold of it eventually, just give me some time. We’re working on it.” Tommy was a little frustrated he hadn’t figured out how to control his powers yet, but all the other guys said it took a while so that was okay. At least it didn’t work on The Blade or Philza. The same couldn’t be said for Wilbur, which was really bad. It just made him bicker with the others, which, while funny, still meant he couldn’t control the Red. Tommy didn’t know what had made it so lethal in the villain encounter, but he needed to find out before he risked getting someone hurt. 

He’d find a way to use it for good, though. One way or another, Tommy was going to be a hero.

“What does your power do?”

Tommy laughed nervously. “Sorry, that’s confidential hero stuff, Mum.” 

Tommy refused to tell her what happened in that room. Her baby boy witnessed -enacted?- a massacre and that wasn’t something that would ever be undone. He went in normal and came out with blood permanently fresh on his hands. All she knew was a haunted look came across him in quiet moments, and she didn’t trust the new ‘friends’ he’d made in the aftermath, and he absolutely refused to touch anyone. 

She reached up carefully to avoid his hands, craning his head down till their foreheads touched. For all that she had to rise to her tiptoes to meet him, Tommy was still her little boy. He’d grown a lot in the last year, and even more so on that dreadful day his powers showed up, but she’d never stop seeing that golden-haired child with his mischievous, gaptoothed smile and dirt staining the knees of his pants. 

“Just talk to me when you’re ready, okay? And if those men try anything I’ll destroy them.” 

Tommy’s laugh was far brighter this time. “Mum! You wouldn’t stand a chance! Besides, The Blade and his friends are nice.” 

Scruffy was the word she would use. She’d vetted them, of course, she wasn’t going to just let her son lose with complete strangers and just trust he came home safe. The Blade was intimidating, but a dork. That Wilbur fellow was just a hopelessly broke musician as far as she could tell, though had a worrisome collection of scars. She respected Philza to some degree though, since he had an ounce of manners. Hopefully, he’d keep the others in line. 

“Tommy. You’re spending hours with homeless people, I have every right to be concerned.” Still, they were the only ones with any idea of how to help Tommy explore the new aspects of his identity. Unfortunately, Tommy’s mother was the supportive type, and was trying to give him room to experiment despite her reservations. 

“You’re always worried though.” 

She pressed a kiss into his forehead. “With a brat like you, I have to be.” He pulled a face, feathers ruffled at the utter indignity of affection. But she let gravity seep into her tone. “I know it scares you. But I know you’ll do the right thing, you’re a good kid at heart. Okay? This isn’t going to change anything.”

.

But it did. 

Tommy had been abducted and locked in a padded room for days now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. He wanted his mum. In Tommy’s books, that was a pathetic thought for a sixteen-year-old to have, but it was true, he wanted to see his parents so bad it hurt. He wanted his friends. Or even not his friends, random people at school, hell even people he didn’t get along with so long as it was a face he recognized. Or even one he didn’t. At this point, Tommy would settle for one of the freaky scientists or soldiers just so there would be someone to talk to. Or, more accurately, shout at and demand answers from. Like, were they villains, where the hell was he, what did they want, why did they kidnap him…

And then someone finally entered the room. Or, more aptly, the guns entered before the squad of soldiers, so Tommy actually found it suddenly easy to continue saying nothing at all. His hands shot up in the air in surrender, scarlet ribbons of liquid dancing around him. 

“Cease the threat display,” a guard barked. 

The power only poured out further. “It doesn’t- I don’t control it, it won’t-” he was ordered to be silent. Tommy had never been good at that, but he managed, biting down questions. Doctors circled like vultures, and he had the strangest premonition shivering down his spine. He felt like a lamb being inspected for imperfections before the slaughter.  

“Give me your hands.” Gloves were dropped into his outstretched palms. Thick, sturdy, and frankly pretty ugly. Tommy had no idea how deeply he’d come to despise them. In fact, Tommy had very little idea of anything, head still caught in the little stories people liked to tell. Lies about powerful heroes rescuing civilians, or good triumphing over evil, or the world caring about people like him. 

“Um. What are the gloves for?”

The guard grinned. “So you can’t fight back.” 

.

The demon was tall and slender with bright white eyes and a literal beam of a smile. He seemed nice. That was the problem, the Foundation always sent Tommy to meet the nice ones so that he could fix that. 

Tommy approached cautiously, carefully weighing threats between the D-Class prisoners behind him and the towering demon ahead. Anomalies were safe at first though, and Tommy knew exactly how to protect himself now. And if he were honest, Tommy didn’t want to get to know the D-Class before their imminent execution. It only made the nightmares worse. 

“Hi!” the demon chirped. “I’m Halo! Wow, I haven’t seen someone new in…” he trailed off uncertainly, a faint furrow of his brow. But he shrugged quickly enough. “A couple years I guess. Sorry, they think I’m boring. No one really pays attention to me anymore. Not violent enough to be interesting I guess. They certainly tried, though.” Tommy caught the flash of horror flickering across glowing eyes. He knew that pressure intimately given how he’d broken beneath it. Still, Tommy perked a little, not expecting the hope. A sour consolation, but neglect had to be far better than cruel attention. Maybe one day he’d be left alone too. 

“I’m…” he swallowed roughly. “I’m the Instigator, I guess. I’m the newest attempt.”  

“Begin threat assessment test,” came a strict voice over a com system.  

At Tommy’s wince, Halo gave him a reassuring smile and a snort. “Don’t worry about that. These muffin-heads have been trying to get me to murder people for years and I’ve yet to break.” Tommy…didn’t have that kind of strength. He didn’t know how Halo had endured it. 

All he knew was that was finally ending today. 

“Instigator, give it your hands,” ordered the overseeing worker. He could feel the eyes of observers for all that he couldn’t see them. 

“Ignore them. What’s your story?” Halo asked. “I haven’t talked to anyone in ages, what’s it like? Are you a recent capture? Do you remember the outside still?” 

Tommy glanced nervously at the observation window. But he was almost just as desperate for conversation. “I’ve been here a few weeks. And. And I miss trees. It’s weird, but I miss how tall they were. Like, because that meant there was space, not these cramped cells and hallways.”

“Yes! And the sky! Oh how I miss the freedom of the sky,” he sighed, dark wings flaring out. 

“Stars,” Tommy added. “Just scattered out, millions of them. And people, everywhere, and you can just talk to them and they’re nice, not like here at all. I just want to m̵̮̙͗u̷̺̦̇̀f̷̟̀̄̈́f̶̯̯̈́̍̀i̸͕̭͎̅̌n̶͔̣̭̏ing talk to someone, you know?”  

“Language,” the demon chided, barbed tail lashing. “But yes. Listen, this is important, did you know a guy called Skep-”

“Give it your hands,” the human demanded. “Or you’ll be wearing gloves the next three days.” 

Tommy went sheet white, rigid to the point of breaking. Halo gave him an odd look, awkward but politely sympathetic if utterly confused. He looked to the observation window. “I’m, erm, guessing that’s some type of punishment?” Tommy nodded, relieved someone understood. But of course Halo would, hadn’t held out for years against the Foundation’s demands? 

It was his kindness that betrayed him. Halo bent to his level, hand outstretched. “Well alright then. Don’t want that happening of course! It’s okay, just do what they say.” He didn’t understand what was about to happen. Tommy did, though. But Tommy had made this choice before. It was easier afterwards, took a little less coercion each time once you’d crossed that threshold. He knew he was selfish, prioritizing himself over other’s lives, but once you made that choice you made it again, and again, and again. 

He swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat. “I’m sorry,” Tommy shoved it out fast like that was any type of salvation. Tentatively, he reached for Halo’s talons, grasping firmly. 

The executor shook hands with his weapon. Crimson seeped from their joined grasp. 

Halo’s friendly smile dropped. This close, Tommy could make out the sharp fangs hidden amidst white glow. The demon stalked past to the chained prisoners, sharp words ringing out. Condemnation hissed out, giving way to shouts, to anger, to violence. 

Tommy was told that the D-Class deserved it. Death row inmates, the vilest of humanity. Tommy’s arms wrapped around himself, frenzied scarlet curling around, spreading, exacerbating. Halo’s snarls gurgled through thick viscera, visceral ripping noises rending the humans apart. The Foundation said they deserved it, just like they said Tommy deserved to wear gloves when he disobeyed or get hit whenever he wouldn’t stop talking, begging, screaming. He kept his back carefully to the unfolding slaughter, eyes squeezed shut. Pretending he couldn’t hear the ragged howls of agony. 

Pretending he couldn’t hear the way Halo started to sob the moment the bloodlust faded.

.

The air was dusty as Tommy climbed into the abandoned hayloft, clambering over to where Tubbo perched. His nose wrinkled, still unused to all the various smells of the outside world. It was still startling how much world was in the world, overwhelming at times but exhilarating always. 

Tommy scooted over to sit as close to Tubbo as he dared, distance carefully calculated to keep them safe. His legs swung back and forth over the edge of the loft, his friends scattered below, happy and free. 

Tubbo waved at him, looking excited. There was a strange intentionality to the gesture, exaggerated. But Tommy couldn’t blame them for that. He wasn’t a stranger to pretending everything was normal. The escape was…rough, to put it mildly, let alone the horrors of the Foundation. It felt nice to laugh even if it was a tad forced at times. But it made the next one easier, so it had to be worth it. 

“Give us your hands.” 

Red spasmed along his arms. Tommy leaned away, unpleasant memories flickering in his head. Given the fact that Tubbo was unique (a word which here means ‘made out of hundreds of thousands of bees’), Red didn’t work traditionally. Mostly, it resulted in pure self-destruction. Tommy shuddered to remember the way Tubbos’ skin tore apart as frenzied insects slaughtered themselves. Not something he was in a hurry to repeat. 

“No, it’ll explode your hands,” Tommy said, not knowing that was exactly what Tubbo wanted. 

They gave him a sweet smile, half crooked. “It’ll be fine, Tommy. We won’t get Red’d, we just want to compare our hands. Our grandpa always said big hands meant you were going to grow up to be tall, kinda like puppy paws.”

Tommy scoffed. “Well I already know I’m going to be massive, and anyway it’s not worth the risk.” 

“We’ll be careful. But if you think ours are that much bigger, that’s fair. You still only have kid hands after all~”

“No! I’m basically an adult! Just…hold still, I guess…” Tommy approached cautiously, still conflicted but splaying ruby fingers out to match their own hand. The fingers shook a little from the tension poured through them, little curls of Red unfurling off the back of his hand like sprouts poking through topsoil. Tubbo slipped their own close, lining up the newly finished digits to match the angle of his. Tommy’s fingers were longer than their own, stockier, his palms broader. They hovered closer and closer, shrinking the gap. “Hah! See! I told you. Um, that’s close enough, I think.”

“We can see from a bunch more angles than you can, Tommy. We’ll know if it's too close.” He flashed a nervous smile, but trusted Tubbo. Still, it felt wrong to tempt himself like this. It took just about everything he had to not lace their fingers together and pull his best friend into a tight hug. Just…hold Tubbo, feel the buzzing warmth of life and the purr of bees working within their hollow body. 

A quiet cage around his heart forbade him from ever reaching out. Tommy couldn’t touch almost anyone in the entire world. It felt near suffocating at times to yearn for something regardless of how disastrous Tommy knew the consequences would be. 

It didn’t occur to Tommy that some people welcomed disaster. 

Tommy’s fingers curled in slightly, unconsciously wanting to close around Tubbos’. Closer, closer, till they were almost touching…

.

“I’ve done some really, really awful things, Phil.” But it didn’t stop Philza’s arm from wrapping around his back and drawing Tommy in. If he were honest, he didn’t want it to. Tommy melted into the embrace for all that he didn’t deserve it. 

“I know,” Philza murmured, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “That doesn’t mean you’re evil. The world isn’t heroes and villains, Tommy.” 

“Okay then I’m a bad guy.” Philza rolled his eyes. “I mean with a power like this what else could I be? I’m a baddie. A wrongun. A ‘malignant, misbegotton ne’re-do-well of a knave’–” Tommy sang, rattling off the old man insults Philza sometimes fell into when he got angry and forgot what century it was. 

“Stop deflecting and give me your hands,” Philza interjected. Tommy griped at him for being rude, but relented easily. Philza cupped Tommy’s hands in his own, reverent almost. 

“If you’re going to try to say there isn’t really blood on my hands don’t even m̷͙̞̈͋ư̵͍̬̒͝ͅf̶̡͉̽f̶͇̬͌í̵̻͇̺n̵̛̛̠ing try it. We both know that’s a lie.” Red spasmed, tendrils looping around Philza’s talons. 

“But your hands aren’t evil. They are simply hands. Red is the exact same. Power doesn’t possess its own morality, that’s up to the weilder. Your power isn’t evil, and neither are-”

“For you, maybe. Anyone else and it’s just brainwashing bloodlust.” He’d been stupid for ever thinking he could save anyone. 

“You can have precautions without having terror.”

“I can’t control it. I’ve tried so, so hard, and I just can’t. All it’s done is ruin my life.”

“The Foundation did that, not the Red, and most certainly not you. Surviving doesn’t make you evil.” Philza lifted Tommy’s hand, brushing a kiss against his knuckles. “I hope one day you can find love for every part of yourself.”

[astroyongie]

Hi yongie, I hope you are doing well.

I wanted to ask why I think absolute worst like death of my family members in some situations. Like is it normal to have that fear and to have thoughts like that?

Pls do answer. xoxo

Those thoughts are usually trauma response created by anguish or abandonment fears. One can have thoughts like that sometimes and it is normal. However being constantly imagining bad things happening to you or the ones you love are responses of your body and mind due to the overwhelming anxiety that you might be feeling.

Some can also gave this thoughts due to guilt (survivior guilt)

[lyranova]

Survivior’s Guilt

Hiya guys! So this fic was inspired by one of @loosesodamarble ‘s fics that she posted a while ago and I just got to read for the first time last night, and it inspired me to write this 😁! It shows my OC Discordia and how she learned/dealt with Morgen’s death, and you also get to see her husband Moros! I hope you all enjoy~!

Ida belongs to @marune2 and Josele belongs to @/loosesodamarble

Word Count: 4,047

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Grief, Wine, Discordia slapping people, angst.

-------

Discordia hummed a small little tune as she read her most favorite book in the large window that sat in her room. Well, this wasn’t really her room. At least not yet. First, she would have to marry the ‘owner’ of said room, which she hadn’t done yet, and wouldn’t do for a while. There were something's he needed to sort out with his family first, but after that they could get married. She nearly laughed, one would think he was arguing with his family to marry her because he loved her.

But that was far from the truth.

They weren’t marrying for love, they were getting married because they needed each other. Discordia needed him so she could get away from her family, and so she could obtain power. While her fiancé married her, so he could get the throne and so that he wouldn’t have to marry someone his family chose for him.

If he was going to be in a loveless marriage anyway, it might as well be to someone attractive. That’s what he had said.

Discordia sighed as she softly closed her book, the only thing she hadn’t realized when she left was how much she would miss her family, well, certain members of her family.

She missed her cousin Morgen, her cousin’s fiancé Josele, her cousin Ida, and she even missed Nacht. But she would never admit to the last one. She wondered how they were all doing, in her last letter from Morgen he had said they were all pretty busy these days but were otherwise well. He told her that he didn’t get to see Nacht very much because he was always doing something secretive, and would always dodge the subject when Morgen brought it up.

Discordia had smiled sadly as she read that, she knew exactly what Nacht and the rest of the family were doing, after all, it had been her inheritance first.

Nacht, and the rest of the family, were doing Devil Rituals. And from what she had heard from her parents, Nacht had been able to summon 4 devils so far! She had rolled her eyes as they quietly talked in anger about having a useless daughter instead of a son, but otherwise she wanted nothing to do with the Ritual or Devils.

She had sighed softly before she went back to reading Morgen’s letter, she didn’t want to think about the terrible memories and the anger that went with them. Instead, she wanted to focus on something more happy and joyful, which is what she got as she continued to read.

Morgen began to tell her about how excited he was about his upcoming wedding, and that he hoped she would be able to attend, but would also understand if she was unable to. He also jokingly mentioned how he and Josele were eagerly awaiting their invitations to her wedding, and said he would never forgive her if it overlapped with his.

Discordia chuckled as the memory of reading his letter popped into her mind and then faded away. But her laughter died as she suddenly felt an odd presence in her room, it wasn’t a human, it was something else.

She quickly jumped up and created a long rapier with her blood magic before whirling around to face the intruder. She blinked in confusion as her eyes traveled down to the floor to see some small, dark creature standing there. It eyes stared at the tip of her rapier nervously, and she could see its body trembling.

“ Who…Are you?” Discordia asked, obviously she knew it was a devil even though she hadn’t seen one personally. But she thought…they were supposed to bigger and more intimidating than this little one was.

“ G-Gimodelo, My Scary Lady!” The devil squeaked in fright, Discordia raised a brow, ‘Scary Lady’? But disregarded that comment as she waved her hand to dismiss the spell. She recognized his name as one of the Devils for House Faust, but he wasn’t quite what she was expecting.

“ I know who you are, I apologize for not recognizing you,” Discordia said before she frowned and crossed her arms. “ But may I ask what you’re doing here?”

The devil looked around a little nervously.

“ Master Nacht said you needed to come home,” Gimodelo said softly, Discordia scoffed before she promptly turned around to return to her window.

“ Who does he think he is, bossing me around?” Discordia muttered. “ I mean, really, does he think I can just drop everything and come back to Clover on a whim?”

“ Lady Discordia,” Gimodelo said softly as he came up behind her and tugged on the bottom of her skirt, as though he were a young child trying to get her attention. “ I really think you should go home, Miss, it’s urgent.”

Discordia stared down at the devil, seeing the earnest and almost pleading look in his eyes made her heart sink. Something must’ve happened…something terrible.

—---

Discordia’s feet carried her towards House Faust as quickly as they could, the sky was overcast, and she could even feel a few raindrops fall onto her head, but she didn’t care. Right now, she had to make it to House Faust and get some answers from the only living relative she had left; Nacht.

She wildly threw the door open to House Faust and looked around to see her cousin sitting on the couch, alone, and with his head hanging down. Discordia felt tears pool in her eyes. They weren’t tears of relief or of happiness at seeing him alive, they were the tears of anger, sadness, and grief.

She walked over to him in quick and determined strides, she grabbed the scruff of his shirt and pulled him up and off the couch. Making him stand in front of her.

“ What the hell happened Nacht?” She asked through gritted teeth, she was trying her best to restrain herself. He looked at her with a pale, tear stained face, and with dull, lifeless eyes.

“ You’re here, dear cousin. And here I was, worried that you wouldn’t make it.” Nacht muttered, his tone cold and lifeless, it was as though someone had come and sucked all the life out of him.

“ What the hell happened Nacht?!” Discordia repeated, her voice loud and angry. Nacht just stared at her.

“ I killed them all, and Ida…Ida ran away,” Nacht admitted quietly, and Discordia felt her heart stop in her chest and confusion cloud her mind. He…he killed them all? How? That didn’t make sense! And not to mention that Ida was now missing?! Just what happened while she was away?!

“ Explain. Now.”

“ I…I did another devil ritual,” Nacht began softly, his voice void of any emotion. “ And I happened to summon Lucifugus, I thought I could handle it, I’ve already summoned and mastered four devil’s powers, so one more shouldn’t be too difficult? At least that’s what I thought.”

“ Morgen…he snuck into the chamber to see what we were doing, and he tried to stop me like he always did. But I wouldn’t listen, I wanted the challenge of trying to beat Lucifugus and master his magic…and it all blew up in my face. He killed our parents, killed your parents, he wiped out the entire Faust line. Including Morgen,” Nacht paused, his voice finally showing the slightest bit of emotion.

“ Morgen…he jumped into the magic circle to save me…he destroyed the bracelet and sent Lucifugus back into the underworld, but…”

“ But what?” Discordia asked, her knuckles having turned white as she gripped his collar tighter and tighter with every word he said.

“ I tried to save him, I used my shadow magic to get him to Josele. If anyone could save him, she could, you know that as well as I do,” Nacht said, his voice getting a little more emotion as he spoke. “ I got there quickly, he was still breathing when we arrived, so I…I don’t know why Josele couldn’t save him, why she couldn’t bring him back…but at the end of the day, I’m the one to blame. Because of me, he-.” Nacht didn’t get to finish his sentence as he felt a quick but firm slap across his face.

He blinked in surprise as he saw Discordia staring at him coldly, tears falling freely down her cheeks, his face stung from where her hand had connected with his cheek. But that didn’t compare to the hurt he felt in his chest as he saw the rage and hurt in his cousin's eyes.

“ You bastard,” She growled as she pushed his chest hard.” You cocky son of a bitch!’’ She roared as she hit his chest with her fists and continued to push him until he finally just…stopped moving backwards.

Nacht allowed her to use him as her punching bag, after all, they both knew he deserved this or worse. Her hitting, yelling, and swearing at him were all the things he wanted to do to himself if he could. Especially after what he’d done, not only to his family, but to Josele as well. Finally, her punches and swearing had less and less force, showing that she was running out of steam, and eventually her arms fell limply to her sides and her head hung low.

“ It wasn’t enough to take and ruin my life, but you had to go and do the same to Morgen’s? All because you couldn’t get over that stupid ego of yours?” She asked lowly, but her voice full of cold malice.

“ It should’ve been you who died,” She continued. “ Why wasn’t it you?”

“ I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since that day, I also wish it had been me who died instead of Morgen…I’ll forever wish it hadn’t been him.” Nacht said softly as he looked down at his cousin, his tone void of emotion again as tears fell onto his cheeks.

Discordia cleared her throat and wiped her tears, at least that was the one thing they could agree on. She wiped her tears and crossed her arms before she looked up at him again.

“ And what happened to Ida? You said she ran away? Didn’t you look for her?”

“ I did,” He admitted emotionlessly. “ But I couldn’t find her, not even with my shadow magic. I’m going to continue searching for her but…she doesn’t want to be found, at least not right now,”

Discordia nodded, silently hoping the girl would return home sooner rather than later. She would be in Clover for a few more days after Morgen's funeral, since she had to bury her parents, so she would try and search for Ida herself. Since Nacht wasn’t having any luck.

“ When’s the funeral?”

“ Tomorrow, and Josie and Morgen will need family there, to comfort and send him off well.” Nacht muttered, causing her to frown.

“ Where will you be? Are you not going to your own brother’s funeral?”

“ I don’t deserve to be there…not when I’m the reason for his being there.” Nacht muttered as he sat back down on the couch. “ Besides…I think I’m the last person Josie will want to see right now.”

“ What did you do to her?” Discordia asked, in a warning tone, if he said or did something to Josele…Discordia would seriously kill him where he sat.

“ I…said some very cruel and hurtful things to her that I shouldn’t have. And I need to apologize but…I…I can’t.”

“ Coward,” Discordia muttered before she turned around. “ You act all tough and strong, but in reality you’re a pathetic coward who won’t even apologize to his dead brother’s fiancé after he acted like an ass. Typical, for someone like you.” She added as she began to walk away, she couldn’t stand the sight of her cousin any longer.

“ I’ll be at his funeral, so don’t worry, I won’t abandon Joey and Morgen like you.” Discordia threw over her shoulder as she walked out of House Faust and slammed the door shut behind her.

—-----

Discordia walked up to Morgen’s casket quietly, this wasn’t right, he wasn’t supposed to be here…not yet, not so soon. He was supposed to get married, have children, and grow old. But now…now he would forever be a 19-year-old angel. She smiled fondly, she had always called him an angel ever since they were young, while she called Nacht the devil. She nearly laughed, how ironic the nicknames were now after all that has happened.

She reached into the casket and gently placed her letter to him under his hands. She never got the chance to respond to his last letter when he was alive, so before the funeral she had quickly written one out. The parchment was wet with tear stains and some of the ink had smudged, but she knew it would be alright and Morgen wouldn’t mind. After all, she was his big sister, and she could almost do no wrong in his eyes.

At least that’s what she would say when he asked when they met again someday.

Discordia stepped back into the crowd and looked around, there were a lot of his Squad Mates standing there, and even his former Captain Julius Novachrono was there. It was just as she expected, all the people he had helped, all the people he loved, and all the people who greatly cared for him were there.

Except for two, and they were the most important; Nacht and Josele.

After a few minutes, she saw Josele appear from the crowd, and she quietly walked towards his casket. Discordia watched silently, her heartbreaking at the scene that was unfolding in front of her eyes. This wasn’t right…this wasn't supposed to be how their love story ended. When Josele walked towards him, it was supposed to be her in a beautiful gown with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. While Morgen was supposed to be in a sharp looking suit and standing at the other end of the aisle. Waiting for his soulmate to take his hand and spend the rest of her life with him, but instead it turned out like this.

Discordia watched as Josele quickly ran away, she moved to follow her but felt someone reach out to grab her hand in order to stop her.

“ Just let her go, I think she needs some time.” Discordia’s eyes widened at the familiar voice, there was no way…her head snapped in the direction of the voice and her eyes widened more.

It was her fiancé; Moros Helheim, Crown Prince of the Lumi Kingdom.

“ How would you know what she needs? You don’t know Josele like I do, you haven’t even met her, and you think you know what she needs more than I do?” She asked as she yanked her arm out of his grip and chased after her sister-in-law.

“ Joey! Joey, it’s me, please come back!” Discordia shouted as she looked around, but didn’t see nor sense her sister–in-law, or her sister-in-law’s mana.

Josele had disappeared.

“ Joey…” Discordia suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and sighed before she slowly turned around.

“ She’ll be alright, from what you’ve said, she’s a very strong woman. She’ll make it through this.” Moros said, and Discordia quickly shrugged his hand off her shoulder.

“ Even the strongest of people need help and support sometimes,” Discordia said as she began to walk away. “ But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that since you’ve always been weak.”

“ Ouch, your words are extra scathing today, my lady,” Moros said, feigning hurt as he put a hand on his chest. “ Come, let’s go back to my residence and talk privately.”

“ Let me guess, this ‘residence’ of yours is either a brothel or an inn? Or is it both?” She asked curiously and with a sharp, knowing tone. Moros chuckled, but quickly waved her words away.

“ It isn’t a brothel. It is a small, hole in the wall, inn. It’s so obscure that my guards would never even think of looking for me there,” Moros said with a charming grin, causing Discordia to roll her eyes at him. “ So how about it?”

“ Fine, as long as it isn’t a brothel.” She muttered as she walked past him. “ Lead the way, your majesty.”

“ As you wish, Lady Discordia.”

The two walked silently to his inn, a low rumble of thunder could be heard as they grew closer and closer to their destination. But sighed in relief as they had just barely beat the rainstorm. Moros led her up the small staircase, down the hall, until they reached the very end where his room was located. He opened the door and allowed her to step inside first, she nodded in thanks before he stepped in behind her and closed the door.

He walked over to the small table and grabbed the bottle of red wine that sat in the center, he opened it and poured its contents into a pair of glasses. She raised a brow as he handed a glass to her.

“ I’m not old enough to drink,” She said as she crossed her arms, Moros smirked at her.

“ You are in Lumi, and I won’t tell if you won’t,” He said with a playful wink. “ Besides…you look like you could use one.” He added in a more serious tone as he kept the glass outstretched.

She looked at him for a moment before taking the glass from him and taking a sip. It had a bitter taste initially, but after she swallowed, she found it had a sweet and dark aftertaste. It wasn’t bad, and it definitely took the edge off this crappy day.

“ What the hell are you doing here, Moros?” Discordia asked as she set her wine glass down and looked at her fiancé, who just tilted his head.

“ Isn’t showing up during times like this something a good husband does?” He asked, his tone curious as he swirled his glass of wine around.

“ ‘A good husband’?” She scoffed as she crossed her arms. “ We aren’t even married yet, and you’re far from being a good husband. If I hadn’t entered that stupid contract with you none of this would have happened.’’

“ How do you figure?” Moros asked calmly, still swirling the wine in his glass around. Discordia quirked a brow at him.

“ If I hadn’t entered that stupid contract with you, I wouldn’t have left for Lumi three months ago! If I hadn’t agreed to it, I would have been here and Morgen would still be alive!” Discordia said, anger lacing each sharp word as she walked towards Moros. The man sighed softly before he set his glass down and stood up.

“ Are you claiming that all of this is my fault in some way?” He asked with a curious tone as he walked towards her, and she nodded.

“ It is, or at least you contributed to it. I could have saved him if I had been here, I could have kept him from going into that damned basement and getting killed, but instead I was off in a faraway land with you!” Discordia spat with pure venom and disdain in her voice, but Moros didn’t flinch or react at all. His face remained calm and statue like.

“ Why are you blaming me for you something you did?” He asked, his tone still curious but with a serious edge to his voice. “ You could have said no, you could have backed out of the contract at any point during the last three months, but instead you stayed. Knowing fully well that something like this could happen, and you still stayed. So the person you should be angry at, and the person you should be blaming for all of this, is yourself.”

Discordia reached her hand up and swung it towards his face, hoping to land a good hard slap across his face. But he reached up and grabbed her wrist in midair, he held it firmly in his hand before he forced it back down.

“ You are going through some call ‘survivor’s guilt’. You were supposed to be there that day, along with the rest of your family. You were supposed to die that day, but instead you survived, by selfishly leaving your family to pursue your own wants and dreams.” Moros continued calmly, his tone and words only making her more angry.

“ Shut up!” She shouted in anger as she raised her other hand to slap him, but he caught it in his other hand and held it firmly. She began to fight and struggle against him, her hands reaching up to push and shove against his chest, before she tried to wiggle them out of his grip.

But Moros wouldn’t let her go, instead he continued holding her wrists, he held them firmly but not tightly, so she could easily get out of his grip if she wanted. But she didn’t. He watched as tears of sadness, anger, and guilt fell from her eyes and onto her cheeks before falling to the floor.

Finally, after a few minutes of struggling, Discordia gave up an and sank to her knees, with Moros following suit. She sobbed nearly uncontrollably as he had hit the nail on the head as to why she was so angry; because she felt guilty for surviving while everyone else had died, everyone but Nacht of course.

 Moros didn’t say a word, he didn’t try to reach out and comfort her, instead he just watched her cry and sob. That’s what she needed right now, she needed to let out all of those feelings she was keeping pent-up inside.

Discordia’s sobs turned into sniffles before she suddenly froze, realization suddenly striking her. Moros’s magic…he was able to revive the dead, which meant…

“ You can bring him back, can’t you?” She asked quietly, her head snapping up so fast that it surprised him.

“ Bring who back?”

“ Morgen, my cousin, you can bring him back with your magic can’t you? You’re able to revive the dead right?” She asked quickly, Moros nodded slowly.

“ Yes, but-.” She quickly cut him off.

“ Bring him back, right now, today, bring Morgen back!” She ordered, her tone almost pleading with him. This was how she could fix everything, how she could make Josele happy again, how she could Nacht to stop blaming himself, and how she could rid herself of this survivor’s guilt.

And to top it all off, they could be a family again.

“ My magic doesn’t work like that, Lady Discordia, it takes time-.”

“ How much time?”

“ I’m not sure, it could be a few days, weeks, or even months. Especially since he was killed by a devil and with forbidden magic, so it may even take years. And even if I do manage to bring him back, he may not be the same as he once was.” Moros warned in a serious tone, but Discordia just shook her head.

“ I don’t care how long it takes, just bring him back, and in return…I’ll give you an heir.” She watched as his face finally changed from calm and Stoic to one of surprise. One of Discordia’s conditions in the contract had been that she not be asked or forced to produce an heir, and that if wanted one so badly, he could take a concubine and have her produce one for him. So for her to offer this showed him just how desperate she was to fix this.

“ But you said you wanted your parent's legacies to die with you, which is why I agreed to not have any children.”

“ I still feel that way, but if you manage to bring Morgen back, I’ll give you the heir you long for. Hell, I’ll give you 20 heirs if you manage to do it,” She reached her hands up and griped his shirt tightly in her hands. “ Just do this one thing for me…please.”

Hearing her soft, pleading tone, and the way she repeatedly begged for him to do this for her, made his heart ache in his chest. He had never seen her look so…vulnerable, so desperate. He was attracted to her strength, but now found that he was also attracted to her weakness. He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“ Alright, I’ll do my best, but I make no promises that I’ll be able to do it. Nor that he will be the same Morgen you once knew if I am able to bring him back, you understand that, right?” He asked, and he watched her look of desperation change into something else.

“ I understand, just like I hope you understand, that if you aren’t able to do these things…I will kill you.” She told him in a dangerously low tone, her blue eyes turning dangerous, and her grin showing she meant what she said. Moros chuckled, that was the Discordia he knew. He smirked back at her before he leaned forward, with a dangerous smirk of his own.

“ Then I’ll definitely have to try my best, Lady Discordia.”

------

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[scalecallerpeak]

4 for ke'buri, 9 for vesh, 16 for yuki 😳

Lets goooo... I did answer 9 for Vesh here so I'll just do Ke'buri and Yuki.

Ke'buri - What is the most dramatic bad thing that happened to them?

It might be a given but being a Lilmothiit it was the Knahaten Flu for Ke'buri. Watching all those she loved and cared for die from the Flu, and gaining surviviors guilt due to being the only one she knows off to survive due to her necromacny / borderline lich-dom.

Now feels resentment watching the Argonians act like her people never excisted due to Ku-Vastei and feels she can't even enter Lilmoth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yūkiai - Whats one song that makes you think of them?

I actually have a whole playlist for Yuki like a few of my ocs:

A lot of these songs are because of the hurt he felt when Vanae left him. Though a lot of them are very upbeat because Yuki has very cheery vibes mostly.

And also some ice themed music bc it Yuki

[ineffablebardwrites]

Fic Masterlist (Dorym Edition)

Critical Role

Dorym:

Guilt and Other Things:

Following the death of their comrade, Dorian finds himself shouldering the weight of his own guilt.

A talk with Orym reminds him that he isn't alone.

Something New, Something Blue:

Orym reflects on feelings for Dorian he didn't even realize he had.

I'd Rather Be Me (With You):

Following the flower incident, Dorian is over the moon to know Orym may actually hold feelings for him.

However, reality rears its ugly head and reminds him of just why it can't be.

(Companion to Something New, Something Blue)

Everything Stays:

The fake, brittle smile that Dorian had worn following their shopping experience is keeping Orym awake.

The circumstances behind it are keeping Dorian awake as well.

I Will Follow You (Into The Dark):

Following a battle, Orym wakes to a face he thought he'd never see again.

Missing Pieces:

Dorian is gone.

Orym is trying not to let it bother him.

Send You My Love (On A Wire):

Twenty-five words a day simply isn't enough when you're missing someone as terribly as Orym misses Dorian.

Like The Dawn:

Orym hates goodbyes.

He learned that from Will.

Freefall:

Orym falls from the ship.

Ashton puts him back together.

Things Left Unsaid:

In his final moments, Orym attempts to reach out one last time.

Hurt:

Dorian feels their loss a million miles away.

(Companion to Things Left Unsaid)

Tick Tick Boom:

Orym has a short fuse.

Otohan lights it.

Broken Vessel:

This time, Otohan sought him out.

This time, she pushed a little too hard.

This time, she broke something that shouldn't have been broken.

What Do You See (When You Look At Me?)

Orym doesn't like the person he's become.

Thankfully, Dorian has returned to remind him who he is.

When Darkness Falls

The Apogee Solstice has begun.

The Betrayer Gods have awoken.

The first to fall was Dorian Storm.

Caught In A Web

As the Solstice approaches, Opal starts acting a little odd.

Dorian finds this out almost too late.

Survivior's Guilt

After a heated discussion that leads to hurt feelings, Orym finds Dorian on the roof, drunk and grieving.

They finally talk about Cyrus.

Sleep Study

Orym can't sleep.

Not well, not for long.

An offer from Dorian seeks to change that.

In Our Bedroom (After the War)

Dorian and Orym reunite after being apart for so long.

They have a talk that's long overdue.

And I'll Tell You All About It (When I See You Again)

Dorian wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

The person he finds there has a familiar face.

Dorym + Fearne:

When You Sleep:

Sometimes Orym had nightmares.

or

How Dorian, Fearne, and Orym began sharing a bed.

Wish You Were Here:

Grief is a process, one that takes time.

Sometimes it's hard to process without help from others.

[nevermindtheweights]

i have a small drabble planned for Hibiki overcoming a portion of her surviviors guilt. 

Not fully, obviously. but something that marks a good few steps forward.

forgiveness and acceptance mainly.

[laskar1s]

→ CHARACTER OUTLINE — [MAGNA LASKARIS]

[BASICS]

Status: Active, open for plotting

Verse: The Walking Dead, open to play her in other horror and apocalypse verses

Full name: Magna Laskaris

Place of birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Date of birth: April 17, 1989

Religion: Spiritual

Orientation: Lesbian

Occupation: Survivor; group leader, formerly a truck stop waitress

[APPEARANCE]

Faceclaim: Nadia Hilker

Height: 5’8"

Build: Muscular, slim

Skin: Olive

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Medium brown with natural light brown highlights, wavy, chest length

Tattoos: Various, including a tattoo above her chest and tattoos on her arms, thighs and hips

Attire: Favors darker and neutral shades like black, grey, khaki green

Distinguishing features: Her thick wavy hair, full lips and tattoos

[MENTAL]

Positive traits: Intelligent, brave, cunning, pragmatic, loyal, caring, protective, disciplined

Negative traits: Ruthless, reclusive, mistrusting, cynical, aloof, temperamental, sullen, calculated

Labels/tropes: Adaptional Jerkass, Dark and Troubled Past, Jerk with a Heart of Gold, Sugar and Ice Personality

Zodiac: Aries

Temperament: Melancholic-Choleric

[SKILLS]

Archery

Knife & melee weapon combat

Firearms

Leadership

Horseback riding

Sign Language

Various other specialized survival skills

[BIOGRAPHY]

Growing up, Magna had identity issues and felt ashamed of her sexuality as she had a homophobic father.

When Magna was twenty, she found out her cousin was raped. Seeing that that the authorities wouldn't do anything against her rapist, she was unwilling to live with the fact that the man was able to hurt her cousin again. That led Magna to take the extreme measure of killing him. Unfortunately, evidence suggested her guilt and Magna went to prison. Everybody who knew Magna but her cousin either turned against her or was not willing to stand up to her. Her reputation was ruined, with many people going as far as believing she had killed an innocent man. While Magna has always had a rather cynical nature, this incident led her to become even more guarded and pessimistic.

She eventually managed to get out of prison after the outbreak happened and she found a group of surviviors including Luke, Kelly, Connie and Yumiko, who became her girlfriend.

[cut-my-arm-bleeding]

Lol he resents me he hates me he reminds me every day that I'm not what he wants that i'm not what he needs that i don't know what he needs that i lied to him about who i am the first time i met him. he doesn't say it out loud he doesn't tell me this but i know i know i know he's afraid to tell me because of Survivior's Guilt he's scared that I'll kms and then he'll be left alone with all of these responsibilities. it would be a huge burden off his shoulders if i just fucking did it. then he could play the sympathy card to give our pets away to different homes to sell all of his and my stuff to fucking buy a van or a bus or whatever and travel the country as a starving artist with no responsibilities and GOD i wish i could fucking give that to him but NO. I am a fundamentally Bad Person and I can't do that for ANYONE even for the MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD to me. what do i do i just fucking sleep i sleep away my responsibilities and my insecurities and my fears but that doesn't make anything go away it just makes everything worse and worse and worse and makes everyone's hate for me grow and grow and grow until everyone agrees that it would be better if i just stayed asleep forever and just never woke up because i'm not a person i'm not a friend i'm not a wife i'm not a daughter i'm just a FUCKING BURDEN BURDEN BURDEN LEECH WASTE LIABILITY PROBLEM BURDEN nobody wants me nobody wants me literally everyone would be better off without me i don't even deserve death i deserve to go off and disappear somewhere away from everyone and just fucking suffer for the next century to make up for all the pain i've caused and people i've hurt throughout my life i deserve to be kept just barely alive enough to feel pain and suffering i want to fucking hurt myself so fucking bad but that will push him away even further and he's all i fucking have

[angstyzebra]

Can you do one where all of them, but Lance-centric, feel guilty about all the people who have died and suffered while they were in space? Like, they've had to see children, families, just over all innocent people die, get seperated, tortured, etc. Lance feels like it was all his fault and is messed up in the head about it. When he talks about it and his mental problems in a offhanded, too casual for comfort way, everyone is very concered about how they missed this.

I hope you don’t mind, I made this a part of my bingo card under the prompt “Survivor’s Guilt.” I hope you like it!

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt - Survivor’s Guilt

Fandom - Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationship - Lance & the team

Words - 1,382

(Read below or on AO3 here!)

It was one of their days off, which were very rare when in the middle of a war, and Allura announced that they should spend the time having fun and relaxing together as a team. So they all gathered in the common room and began their own activities. Hunk and Pidge were working on modifying some alien device, which is probably their version of fun. Keith was playing Killbot Phantasm I, trying to beat Lance’s score after some bantering over the game only a few minutes prior. Shiro was sitting next to him, watching in amusement. Coran and Allura turned on an Altean television show they had on disc, which Coran claimed was a classic. But the show was, of course, in Altean. So much for “together as a team,“ right?

Lance tried to watch Keith’s progress on the game, eager to get him even more riled up, but was having a hard time focusing that day. He sat at the corner of the couch and watched as everyone did their own thing, feeling lonely despite being in a room full of friends, of family. He hadn’t felt like this in a while, and it was really bothering him. It felt like an annoying itch he couldn’t reach, and the itch was happiness.

Years ago, back on Earth, Lance was diagnosed with depression and ADHD. It explained why Lance tended to be talkative and active, and why he sometimes felt sad or disappointed in himself, or in this case, lonely. It explained why, when it was quiet and things going on in the room escaped his focus, the intrusive thoughts came to him fast. It was why he had such a difficult time falling asleep at night, which led to having a hard time getting up in the morning.

Since Lance had been shot up into space and thrown into this alien war, he experienced so much excitement everyday and it kept his mind and body occupied. Now that they had a moment of peace, it all started to catch up to him.

“I’ve taken so many lives. They were Galra, but… they were people too.” He didn’t mean to say any of it out loud, but by the time he realized everyone was looking at him he couldn’t stop himself. “I’ve seen so many people die in this war because I wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t good enough. How can any of us - how can I sit around like this and relax while innocent people are dying at this very moment? They’re not the ones who deserve this. I am. Why can’t I just die instead of them?”

The words of that last part rang in everyone’s ears. Nobody spoke a word, waiting until they were sure he was done, until he had let it all out. Lance was the only one of them who hadn’t broken down crying and screaming in front of everyone yet, so they let him talk. He was always there for all of them when the emotional pain hurt too much, after all. It was inevitable that his happy facade would come down sooner or later. Now it was his turn to lean on them.

Lance just then realized he had tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away in an angry, rushed motion before letting out an unamused laugh and continuing. “So many children and families… so many good people are tortured, die, and get separated from the people they love. What if it’s my fault? Sometimes I know I could do better on missions but my ADHD makes it hard to focus. Sometimes I don’t sleep at night, my depression getting to be too much. I go through my skin care routine to get rid of the redness on my face from crying and the bags under my eyes… But I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t. ”

Lance’s voice broke with the last word, and he leaned forward, sobbing into his hands. Everyone came closer to him, a warm and familiar hand on his shoulder keeping him grounded. Shiro. He leaned in to hug Lance, a strong and loving embrace, and spoke softly. “Lance, you don’t have to hide behind a mask. You’re allowed to not be okay, especially when you’re dealing with so much as a paladin already. You’re strong enough, you’re skilled enough, but sometimes there has to be sacrifices made. But none of it is your fault.” Shiro pulled away and gave a tight, but reassuring smile.

Hunk then spoke up. “Lance, I’m so sorry. I already knew about your depression but didn’t think to even check up on you to make sure you were okay. Things got so busy and… I’m sorry, I really am.”

Lance shook his head. “No, Hunk. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s fucked up in the head in the first place-”

Coran cut him off. “Lance, no. You need to stop blaming yourself for these kinds of things. Like Shiro said, none of this is your fault.”

He could recall many times in the past when his team had called him names and commented on his intelligence. He knew they were only meant to be light-hearted jokes, that they had no idea how insecure he really was, but it still hurt. He knew he was the lesser paladin, and he knew that hey knew it too.

He growled in frustration and stood up abruptly. “You don’t need to lie to make me feel better. I know I’m not smart or skilled in anything like the rest of you. I’m just going to go train, we all know I need it more than anyone else here. Enjoy the rest of your day off.” Lance’s pace was quick as he made his way out of the room.”

There were glances passed around to one another, concerned about how they missed this, how none of them saw through Lance’s positive facade. To know their happy little goofball was struggling with this… it hurt. He deserved to be as cheerful as he led on to be.

“… What do we do?” Pidge asked, voice quiet and scared.

Hunk pulled her in for a side hug. “I don’t know, but I really hate seeing him like this. Guys, we need to do something.”

Shiro nodded. “He needs us to be here for him, just like how he’s always been there for us. Just because someone is happy on the outside doesn’t mean they are on the inside.” He looked down at his hands, clenching them. “I should’ve seen this before, I should’ve been there for him.”

Of course Shiro was taking the responsibility for this. As team leader, he felt it was his responsibility to look after everyone. But that didn’t mean he had to do it alone.

Shiro felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to meet Coran’s reassuring smile. “We’re all supposed to look out for one another. You don’t need to worry about these things all by yourself, Number One.” Shiro felt himself relax at the nickname.

Allura nodded in agreement. “We’ll all help Lance, together. He may get off track sometimes, but that doesn’t make him a bad paladin. We need to show him how vitally important he is to our team.”

“He does tell a lot of jokes, but they do keep the atmosphere more relaxed. I don’t know what I’d do without his positivity.” Keith admitted. “He’s good at helping plan missions, and really good with his bayard. He has important skills, I don’t understand why he can’t see it.”

Together, they would make sure to show Lance how much they cared for him, and how important he was in their team, that nobody could ever replace him.

However, unknown to the team, Lance had actually gone to Blue for comfort… who connected to the security camera in the common room during their conversation. Lance heard everything, and cried as Blue purred to him in support the whole time.

She would work hard to help him through all of this internal conflict he had going on. They would all need to confront these things later, together. But first, she would let him take a nap in her cockpit for a while.

For now, he could rest peacefully.

*Please consider leaving a comment, they give me lots of motivation!*

> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a ko-fi!

> You can read my post about requesting from my Bad Things Happen Bingo card here!

[ironstrange-is-the-endgame]

Me: I’ll write a fix-it fic

Also me: cries while writing because I want it to be believable so Stephen has survivor guilt.

[nyaagolor]

Taranza?

Him ::)

Headcanon A: realistic

Taranza can hiss and make a ton of weird bug faces but doesn't do that a lot because it's considered rude. If you sneak up on him though he will whirl around with a scrunched up face and hiss

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

He can't eat solids! He drinks a LOT of smoothies

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Part of the reason that Taranza can't get over Sectonia is because he has no support network at ALL. He's very awkward and a little stuck-up because of his upbringing so it's hard for him to make new friends among the Star Allies or in general, the people of the sky don't like him much for obvious reasons, and Taranza refuses to vent to Kirby because he's a child who already has enough going on. Instead, he just stews in his survivior's guilt and regret with no shoulder to cry on

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Taranza moved into DDD's castle a few months after the events of Triple Deluxe. He couldn't live in the castle because of bad memories and didn't really want to be around the People of the Sky because he wasn't sure he could face them after what he and Sectonia did to him. For a while, he just stayed around the garden, making sure the beautiful botanical gardens didn't fall to ruin so he could keep up Sectonia's memory. Dedede went to visit one day for diplomatic reasons (the people of the sky immediately dissolved the monarchy and Dedede wanted to make sure they were all doing ok) and saw Taranza sleeping in the dirt and immediately decided that was not happening on his watch. He has Waddle Dees help with the garden and Taranza lives in the castle now. The Waddle Dees warmed up to him pretty quickly after Dedede told them Taranza was chill though

[kreston-kreature]

I don't watch the news anymore

Instead, I try to remember the last time I flew a kite

The last time I sled down a hill

I don't know when it will be the last time I do something.

(The thought erodes me)

I am sick of Sepia toned portraits asking me where the time went

But I still answer:

History is in between the cracks in the driveway

The chipped paint on the windowsill

In these photo albums

Etched onto gravestones

Time is not running out

It is catching up to me

Is this retribution or surviviors guilt?

The future is what you make of it but what has history made of us?

I can no longer remember the last time I flew a kite

[doingthejukes]

D&D Characters

This is my first post on tumblr, so I’ve gotta make it one to remember.

I present to you, Brook of Swift Water, the Tabaxi Way of the Four Elements (Homebrew version made by me to make it usable and interesting) Monk. A silver haired 5′10″ Tabaxi with black spots and blue eyes. He stands straight up when conversing with others but in battle he flows and strikes like a river, moving in and out of ones reach without them ever realizing what hit them. When he was a child, he grew up in a small Tabaxi village by a river, caring for his younger siblings and the crops that his family grew. Life was simple but he had no desire for adventure or a greater purpose, he was content to live in peace with the world he knew, a small village of his own kind. But one day, a terrible storm came from the north, bringing with it winds that knocked over the villages frail straw houses, and rain that flooded the river, causing it to rush along the banks and sweep over his entire village, and taking away his whole life with it. During the chaos of the storm he was separated from his family, and barely managed to survive by hanging onto a piece of drift wood, barely staying afloat. Battered and exhausted, he washed up on a shore many leagues away from any land he knew, and was found by a man in strange attire, sandals, something akin to a skirt, and a shirt that barely covered any of his chest. This man carried the broken boy to his home, where he would care for him till he recovered his strength. Brook told the old man of what happened, and begged him to help find his family. The man agreed, but before he left, Brook asked him his name, and he said it was Piez. Brook waited for weeks before the man returned, and in the mean time he explored the mans home, finding man strange things, like a wood staff with metal bands around it, and hundreds of books about all kinds of things, the elements, the flow of ones life force, strange picture books with what seemed like strange dances, and hardly any food, only just enough for Brook to sustain himself. When Piez returned, he carried terrible news, that nearby towns that had worried about the Tabaxi village nearby had searched for surviviors day and night for the past 2 weeks, and found nothing but corpses. Brooks life had been destroyed in one day, and everything he had ever cared about had been taken from him. He ran off into the forest, crying to his hearts content, unable to control the emotions racking his body, and the guilt he felt at being the only one to survive. Piez found him and spoke to him softly but firmly, stating that he understood, and that for now he could mourn. But there was a path Brook could walk if he wished to truly take back his life, the same one Piez had taken, the path of a monk. He would teach him the ways of nature and the elements, and the natural force that resides in all life, their ki. Piez taught him everything he needed to know so that he could control his own destiny, as well as the forces that had taken away his old life, water. After 2 decades of constant training and practice, Piez had finally taught Brook all he knew of the world, and in his last act as his teacher, and almost a father to the orphaned Tabaxi, he told him the location of a scroll that contained instructions on how to control the elements. After this, Piez’s age caught up to him, and he died at the age of 137. Brook set out to find this scroll, and upon acquiring it, he would train in a temple to master 2 of them, the Flowing Stance, and the Water Whip, to be able to both be one with the force that tore his life apart, and to control it. Having done all that Piez wanted of him, Brook was free to wander the world, seeking out his destiny and trying to do good in the world, helping those in need no matter what the source of their suffering, whether it be a man or the forces of nature themselves, or even demons. On his travels, he heard of a town in the kingdom of Humans that had not been heard from in weeks, so he went to check it out. As he approached the supposed location of the town, a heavy mist fell on the area, and he happened to bump into a Bugbear, who turned around and smiled at him warmly, and asked “Why hello there friend! Say, do you know where Roc Town is?” Brook answered with a smile of his own, and said “I have a map of its location, but it seems little help with this fog, let us find it together.” and so they walked deeper into the mist, and eventually found the town. But it was not as it once was. Roc Town was supposed to be a beautiful town of intricately crafted buildings and a symbol of craftsmanship and success across the kingdom, but all the walls were covered in vines, and dust and fog hung in the air, as did a deathly silence. As the two furry companions walked through the streets, they heard a horrible screech, and witnessed a blood red creature fly above them out of the town. “Was that... a fiend?” the Bugbear Gugur asked, with an expression containing both intrigue and worry. “I’m afraid it was my friend. It seems this town is truly in need of help.” -The End (Of the beginning)

This was the backstory of a character I made named Brook of Swift Water, who is now being used in a campaign homebrewed by one of my friends, and which I am currently playing through with another friend, the one who made the Bugbear Gugur. This was quite the backstory right? Very sad although pretty cliche. Wanna know how I came up with it?

*hue hue cat no like water hue hue funny*