#it happens sometimes don’t worry

[grayeyedandroid]

I just rewatched the tmnt clips I posted tonight and I think I dislocated a rib laughing so hard. help

[bbbbbbbbatman]

love Superbat dynamic of them having a full on domestic in the middle of a fight against this week’s villain, throwing insults and passive aggressive (and less passive) comments between punches, the vibes are truly awful and even the villain is like “hey, maybe we should take a pause on things and I can try to take over the world next week once you’ve made up”

[bleue-flora]

What's often interesting to me, is Dream spells it out in the finale and people often still don't get it, so I thought it'd be interesting to see what he was actually referencing here. To see where it all started.

[24:27] Tommy: “That first war, me and Tubbo versus you–how it should have ended–why’d you take it?” Dream: “Tommy, you ambushed me and killed me. You stole all my shit! You tried ambushing me in a little cave–you don’t remember that? I feel like you just–your memory is just–gone.”

So here is the ambush Dream is talking about, where Sapnap and Tommy basically decide to just kill Dream and then kept all of his shit. [Death 1]

He gets killed again when he tries to take back his stuff. [Death 2]

Tommy kills him for fun right after he respawns with nothing. [Death 3]

Then after Dream gets his stuff back (via our boy Punz) and he takes the discs to get Tommy to stop, he gives Tommy back his items. But unsatisfied, Tommy goes after Dream, gets one of his discs back and hides it in the little cave. Dream tries to find it, while Sapnap and Tommy try to stop him. They are unsuccessful until, Tubbo brings them axes and they sneak up and corner Dream in the little cave, ambushing and killing him. Once again, taking all of his shit, (including, yes, the other disc.) [Death 4]

[27:58] Tommy: “Think about that, we could’ve been friends but no because you have to figure out the reason you have to get–”  Dream: “Yeah we could’ve but you–you ruined the chance of that long ago. It was you.” Tommy: “I ruined it?” Dream: “You ruined it!”

And I don’t think it’s unfair for Dream to say that in the finale, because for Dream it’s this stream early on, these moments that started it all. It’s these instances of of Dream getting murdered and robbed and made fun of over and over. Him, trying to not just make peace for everyone, but also reclaim respect and peace for himself. It’s Tommy chasing after Dream when he has nothing to kill him and rub it in his face. It’s Dream, even after all of that, giving back their items. It’s these instances of violence taken too far to the point they clearly pissed Dream off and didn’t care or follow his very simple request of just giving an apology and his belongings back that shape my distaste for Tommy and sympathy for Dream. It’s these moments that I feel like are gone from Tommy’s and our memory that highlight a different story.

[28:34] Dream: “Yeah, we could have been friends if you weren’t a little shit.”

[aimseytv]

one thing i’ve been thinking about recently is sometimes things are just out of our control. we can try to change, fix or fight these uncontrollable forces that are sent our way but sometimes we just physically cannot do anything - and that’s okay. it’s okay that somethings can’t be changed, or fixed, or fought, and that’s completely fine! not having all the necessary cards or puzzle pieces to help complete the puzzle just means you’ll find them later in life

[mylittleredgirl]

Hey! This is where you can view an MA sample ballot: https://www.sec.state.ma.us/WhereDoIVoteMA/WhereDoIVote

thank you!!!!

[brother-emperors]

to me, this is Pompey @ Crassus

[shiningstarr15]

Alright I’ve seen enough takes on this and while I understand everyone’s viewpoint and validate it I want to give mine bc mine is probably a very niche perspective.

When it comes to the relationship between Gregory and Vanessa, I do view them as siblings. And no not in the umbrella way, not in the “this is the only thing that makes the most sense” sort of way, I mean they have sibling energy period. And I’ll tell you why.

Bc I do not view them as being immediate found family. At all. They have too much trauma both independently and with each other. I don’t even think they’d like each other very much at first. I feel like their initial relationship would be more of a ”you saved me so I’ll return the favor by helping you out” way.

Personally. I don’t think relationships with strong bonds should immediately go into something romantic or familial (maybe it’s cuz I’m raging aroace and very platonic/queerplatonic bc I know that’s an unpopular opinion) but in my eyes, you NEED TO BUILD A FRIENDSHIP FIRST. and I think that’s exactly what they’re gonna do.

They’re gonna slowly and gradually form a friendship, one that most people would think is strange and unusual bc it’s an adult and a child but let’s be fr neither of them are what you’d consider “typical” (yes I personally hc them both being ND. Again, this is my opinion). I also don’t think they don’t really give af what people think. So why would they bother putting a label that they don’t really agree with on them? No imo they won’t do that unless they truly do mean it.

Again, this could very well be projecting. But I am personally someone that doesn’t like being given a “sister” label unless it’s actually meant. Maybe it’s my extreme sibling complex. But I don’t think I’m wrong for feeling that way. And imo, I think overtime they would view each other in the way best friends view each other as siblings. I don’t even think there would even need to be anything legal. But if there was, she would be a legal guardian at best. Bc it still gives the freedom to identify how they choose. And to me, it’s very similar to Lilo and Nani from “Lilo and Stitch.”

Bc I think two things can be true at the same time. Vanessa can be a caregiver, and have some responsibilities when it comes to making sure Gregory is ok and kept safe. But also, she herself needs someone to take care of her. Bc she can’t. And while I do like the idea of Freddy taking care of them both, I also like them taking care of each other.

She definitely has aspects that could be seen as maternal, but I don’t view her as essentially parental. She simply isn’t ready. There’s too much trauma and a bit of emotional immaturity (again not a bad thing, she’s very childlike imo). I think she sees him more equal than that. Not someone that is helpless and needs to be watched 24/7. But someone that needs a little guidance every now and then. And that’s where I think looking up to her in an older sibling kinda way comes in.

She’s like a combined playmate and caregiver. An equal partner but also someone that takes on the worst of the burden so he doesn’t have to. Even though he will do so anyway bc he cares that much about her.

So yea, that’s my take on their relationship. Again, it’s just my opinion, and I understand people not agreeing and wanting something else for them. But this is how I choose to view them, and I don’t think that it’s wrong ❤️

[farfromstrange]

Angel On The Roof | Matt Murdock x f!Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x female Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes (or most of the time) suffering is silent, we don't often see or recognize the signs, and suicide can tear a huge hole into the hearts of the people around the affected person.

TW: SELF-HARM AND SUICIDE

Warnings: ANGST, hurt no comfort, self-harm, suicide, catholic guilt, mental illness

A/n: I intentionally wrote the warning seperately because this is... well, this was born from my brain in a matter of thirty minutes because I suddenly felt so fucking sad, and I had to somehow get these feelings out. I'm sorry. BUT I PROMISE IM OKAY THIS JUST HAPPENS SOMETIMES!!

Word count: 2.5k

DO NOT READ IF SUCH TOPICS COULD EASILY TRIGGER YOU! (And if you ever feel helpless, try talking to someone. You're not alone!)

18+ MINORS DNI

Mental illness speaks in silence. 

Unlike a broken leg, you can’t see a sickness of the mind. There is no physical proof for the scary truth that something is going not quite right inside of your brain. And because people can’t see it, they have a hard time believing the truth. They have a hard time believing that being sick in the head could even affect you this much, so they try to sell your pain as worth less than it is. How could thoughts possibly turn paralyzing? How could someone’s mind make them feel worthless to the point the affected person sees no other way out but to inflict pain onto themselves? Attention whores, it’s what those people like to call the struggling ones. Lazy, weak, selfish… every mentally ill person has heard one of those words being used to describe them at least once.

Mental illness speaks in silence because if we spoke louder, people would only sneer and turn their backs on us. Mental illness speaks in silence because suffering alone seems better than burdening someone else. And mental illness speaks in silence because those who are mentally ill live in a different world. Their heads work differently.

Mental illness speaks in silence because pain paralyzes, and silent acts are the only way someone so stuck in the claws of the faceless monster knows how to ask for help. By the time people consider questioning certain behavior though, it is often too late, and the person soon enough feels as if they’re being a burden once more because the judging looks are worse than admitting you need help in the first place. 

The monster that is mental illness is cruel and it has no regard for you or the people around you. It has set out to destroy you, and you feel helpless as it tears a knife through your soul and picks your heart apart piece by piece. And those who say, ‘just ask for help’ or ‘don’t be scared to speak up’ clearly don’t know how hard it can be to break out of such a circle once you’re already in it. 

Self-harm is considered a serious addiction on the roster, but most people see it merely as a symptom of many personality disorders or mood disorders. Those who seemingly know nothing about mental illness even like to call it a call for attention. As if self-mutilation would ever be a conscious choice made by anyone. You try to fight a pain that no one can see and only you can feel, and sometimes, when you feel so much - too much - it gets deafening and you need another pain to balance it out. 

Drugs aren’t the only thing hurting you that can result in addiction. There is a long list of things that harm the mind and body, and that is often used as a coping mechanism for the terrible things most people are forced to feel inside. 

Matt Murdock has stared down the abyss before. He knelt in front of a God he had long lost all of his faith in and begged him to take him back. He stood at the edge of the cliff, ready to end his misery. He wanted to be taken away to recover from the excruciating hole in his chest. He didn’t want this life anymore. He hated his body and his mind, and he lost who he thought himself to be. He lost all of his faith, friends, and trust in the world. He stared down the abyss and the abyss stared back at him, dark and glooming, and it was ready to dig its claws into his skin and drag him down with it. 

Though he pulled away before the darkness could consume him. He escaped death with only a breath on the tip of his tongue. He exorcized most of the demons in his mind after almost succumbing to them completely, and even now he still struggles with what the months of torture in the basement of Clinton Church did to him. The constant self-pity, the shame, the guilt, and the blame. He gave up on God when he needed them most. He found back to the lord because he strongly believed that in his time of need, he would always come back to him. 

He met her on a warm summer’s night on the roof of an apartment complex. He returned to his ways as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in the makeshift black get-up inspired by whatever fabric he could find at church, but it had to be long after Wilson Fisk was returned behind bars. 

She assured him, “I don’t want to jump, I just want to feel.” And so he stayed by her side until the sun came back up, shoulder to shoulder sitting on the ledge of the roof and staring down at New York City. He could smell and taste the salt lingering in the air from the tears she shed, but as they sat together, she did not once cry and so he stayed silent, listening to her broken heart as the sun came up. 

It became a regular occasion. He would find her on numerous high buildings, always the same heartbeat, always stained with the salt of her tears and sometimes the tangy scent of blood on her sleeves. He never asked, he simply sat down next to her and waited until the sun came back up, and then he walked her home to make sure she would be okay. In the moment, she usually was. She smiled and thanked him, and he told her, “If you ever need to talk, well… you know I’ll find you if you call for me.”

He remembers asking her one day after he walked her home in the rain and she offered to let him in, still covered by the black mask but more than willing to learn more about the mystery woman that occupied his every thought, but he didn’t even know the name of. “Who hurt you?” he asked her. 

She placed a coffee mug before him, her shoulders shrugging weakly. He could smell a mixture between copper and metal in the bathroom, and her pulse beat heavier than usual under the long sleeves of her shirt - it was summer, no need for a sweater, but she always wore one. He didn’t like to prod. The darkness swallowed him once too, and the last thing he had wanted back then was to talk to anyone. He wouldn’t have known where to start anyway, and she was struggling with something he had no right to judge. Still, the more time they spent together, the more he began to care. 

“I hurt myself,” she had given him the simple answer. 

His hand caught her wrist accidentally one of those nights and she flinched away, eyes seemingly wide with shock and frustration. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because I need to feel something other than this pain that is numbing me to the point I feel like I’m being burned alive.”

“Have you ever asked someone for help?”

“Why would I?” 

“Because there are people who can help when you’re hurting. People who have been trained for this. People who aren’t… people who can do much more than to just walk you home safe at night.”

She reacted rather hostile when he said it, and he couldn’t blame her, he still can’t. They were merely acquaintances. He came around when she felt alone and she enjoyed his company, but other than that they knew nothing.

“Perhaps you should go,” he remembers her saying, and then she pushed him away. 

Two nights went by without her. He didn’t find her on any rooftops or in dark alleyways looking for ways to get the edge off. When the third day rolled around and he didn’t find her again, not even her heartbeat in the masses of Hell’s Kitchen, he gave into the voice in his head and took the road he memorized to the apartment he often walked her to after a particularly draining night. 

He told himself not to cross that border because well, whatever they had, it meant nothing. But she was just human too, after all, and she was left alone hurting with demons in her head ready to tear her down. She was like him while at the same time, she was inherently different. He just knew she was drowning and if it was the catholic in him or just Matt Murdock who felt the need, but he had to protect her, even if it was just from herself.

Sometimes your head can become you worst enemy.

He entered the apartment over the fire escape. She kept her window unlocked, which wasn’t very safe. When he heard the sobs coming from the direction of the suspected bathroom though, he didn’t question why her window was open. Perhaps part of her took his offer to heart and she was searching for help, subconsciously at least. But he wasn’t the help she needed. He couldn’t do much but sit by her side and walk her home. Matt didn’t have much to give to her but even more pain in the form of his friendship. It never ended well for him.

He broke the door down at the scent of blood, and he was glad he did. He didn’t need sight to know that her arms were covered in cuts and the floor dark red with the essence of her heart. Her heartbeat sounded erratic in the small bathroom. 

He didn’t panic though. He grabbed a few towels and wrapped them around her wrists, and as soon as she felt his touch, she fell into his arms and cried. He held her as she did, the blood soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t care. He held her until she was too weak to fight back, and then he did the most conscious thing, took her to bed and stitched her up. 

She was quiet throughout, and even after. He couldn’t tell where her mind was at. Together, they lay on her soft mattress. He listened to her heartbeat and the tiny sobs passing her lips, all the while he still wore the goddamn black mask he once swore he would never pick up again. 

“Why do you keep doing it?” he asked her eventually. His finger ran over the bandage he had applied earlier. “Why do you keep hurting yourself?”

She shivered. “It wouldn’t make sense even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“No, you wouldn’t understand. You barely even know me and I don’t know you. Why do you keep doing this, D?”

“Matthew,” he told her. “That is my name. And I do understand because I’ve been where you are. Not- not this severe, but I can try to understand.”

“I just can’t help it,” she admitted. “I don’t know why, and I don’t want to talk about it. But I’m glad you’re here, and I promise I will try not to do it again.”

He caved because her heartbeat told the truth. “Okay.”

She didn’t lie because she believed it to be true.

And she never told him her name.

But that night she took his hand in hers and asked him to stay until she fell asleep, and against his better judgment, he did. He stayed until her breathing evened out and the sun came up. Only then did he slip out through the window and back into his everyday role.

She found a note on her table, poorly scribbled but she could decipher what he had meant to bring across. 

It’s because I care about you that I do this, Angel.

That night, he found you waiting on a rooftop for him again. He heard the smile in her voice, and for a second he believed she was okay again. 

They shared one kiss. It was a Tuesday night. The rain outside pattered against the window, but inside it was warm. He walked her home again, and she asked him if he wanted tea. He accepted her offer.

“Will I ever see your face?” she wondered out loud.

He chuckled. “It wouldn’t be such a good idea.” The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen knowingly never does home visits. 

“Can you see mine?”

“No.” He didn’t tell her he was blind. Maybe he should have. Maybe telling her more about himself could have steered off the inevitable. If he had only allowed himself to hold on tighter without letting the fear take over, maybe she would still be there.

That night, she leaned in to kiss the revealed lower have of his face, and he had never felt so much dread yet happiness during a kiss before.

It was short and sweet, an act of kindness, and then she did the one thing she had never done before.

She thanked him. “Thank you,” she told him. “For everything.”

It was the first warning sign, but he missed it. He missed them all.

She kissed him, then thanked him, and then when he turned to leave, she said, “Goodbye, Matthew.”

If he had only known back then that this would be the last time he would get to feel her presence again, he would have stayed even long after the sun had risen. 

Three days later, a kiss, the sound of her heartbeat, and a distinctive smell in his clothes and nose are all he has left of her. He held her when she needed it, but even when she tried subtly telling him that something wasn’t right, he didn’t realize what she was trying to tell him. 

Mental illness is silent until it isn’t, and now Matt Murdock is standing in the summer rain over the grave of a woman he had only briefly met, her name scribbled on the stone by the only family she had left, and even they had already left by the time he joined her.

He finds himself standing at the grave of a woman so broken, she knew no other way out than this. 

“Did you know her well?” His mother stands beside him, hands crossed in front of her body. 

He scoffs, the honesty seeping off his lips like acidic honey. “I didn’t even know her name.”

“Then how did you…” the question got lost along the way. She nods, realizing, then paints the crucifix over her chest and heart, kissing the cross necklace he wears the same. “If it’s any consolation,” she says, “I do not believe that people who commit suicide go to hell. I think God has her now. I think he is taking care of her as we speak.”

“How did I not realize?” he whispers. His voice cracks, but he holds on. He knows she wouldn’t have wanted to see him cry. The rain hits his glasses and soaks his clothes, but even after more than one plea from his mother, he doesn’t move an inch. 

Mental illness is silent until it isn’t.

“I’m sorry.” The gravestone doesn’t answer. “I wish I could have gotten to know you better. I wish I could have realized… could have seen… I was a coward. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Please, forgive me for this. For all of it.”

He doesn’t want to cry, but it’s getting harder with each passing second of realization. The service was lovely, but without her, reality seems more like a bad dream than something actively happening to him.

He never really knew her, but he realized something crucial as he stands before the filled, wet hole in the ground, and it knocks all the leftover air from his frozen lungs. 

He loved her. He does.

But she took her own life to end a suffering no one but him was willing to listen to, and it would make him bitter until the day he, too, would move to the mansion of rest in the lord’s paradise — and he would pray until then that he would be able to meet her again and tell her the truth he realized too late. The stranger, the broken woman, his lost Angel on the roof. 

[carrionhearted]

An older man at the flea market today referred to me, a VERY gnc trans guy with long hair and a fluffy dress, with he pronouns when talking to his coworker. “He’s interested in buying these”, “oh yeah I already gave him the price, he says he’ll take it”, etc. I WAS BEAMING. I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TIPPED HIM OFF????

As my friends and I were leaving, he says “have a good day guys! … Girls? Both?”

Smiling so big. Whether this allyship was intentional or accidental, I will take it, I will hold onto this forever.

[peach-pot]

how did you make lilith? like what were the thoughts in her character creation process

oh the can of worms you’ve opened. I love you.

OKAY SO basically I needed a monster of the week character and I was tossing around a few variations on the same idea: trans character who is also either a monstrous character or a spooky (monster of the week playbook where you have magical abilities but also a mysterious dark side to your powers…) who gets effects of both mixed up. I ended up making her a spooky because I’d already played a monstrous before (Henry my beloved) and wanted to branch out.

SO that’s how Lilith started, and then I decided it’d be fun to have her special interest be magic and monsters and stuff, where she keeps a blog cataloguing everything she learns. this worked out well as a way for her to have met another character, her best friend Evelyn, because Evelyn works for an organization that would want to put a stop to that blogging thing. (Which Lilith begrudgingly did and instead switched to a very thorough journal AND talking to Evelyn about magic stuff 24/7).

I also ended up making her schizophrenic, because for a while I’ve been in my brain thinking about exploring what it’d be like to be schizophrenic in a world where a lot of the things that could be delusions or hallucinations are actually real, or caused by other magical things. like, I have mixed feelings on stories that’re like “woah, this character thought they were just having ordinary delusions and hallucinations but it was real and/or magically induced all along”, but I think having a character where some stuff is like that and other stuff isn’t related to magic at all and there’s a lot of struggle to differentiate between the two is COOL! Also I think it’s a bit funny in a magical world to have a character experiencing something going “woah… this is so magical and spooky” and then it’s just her experiencing symptoms of an ordinary thing. (also this adds an extra layer to the mixing up effects of things bit from being spooky and trans which started the whole thing).

I believe that was all the groundwork for her and then it was just a matter of fleshing things out. The other player character, Avalon, and her met because Avalon runs a sort of mobile magical clinic and Lilith needed help from that one time and then, upon realizing this was someone she could learn more about magic from, never left. Clerval is a character who’s dead at the start of the campaign but it’s important that all our characters knew them before—they basically just adopted Lilith as a friend with no hesitation when they noticed their was something spooky up with her.

Anyways, she loves magic she loves making friends she loves texting you random emojis that don’t communicate anything at all, she’s my world.

[liloinkoink]

for lamplight treebark reqs perhaps a little bit of ren coping with and/or coming to terms with that the fact that his love for his paladin is not the expected sort of love that a god would feel for their follower. the differences between the love of a deity and a worshipper and the far more personal, mortal way he loves martyn, beyond his oath and devotion

ty for sending me a lamplight treebark req. this is quite short and only… sorta addresses what you said, but i present it to you nonetheless

The thing about Ren is he wasn’t meant to be a god.

Ren had been born mortal, and though he hadn’t died one, his heart hasn’t changed.

Back during Ren’s prime, Ren had only built a single temple, just so his people knew where to find him. He hadn’t bothered with titles, either—Dogwarts had called him Ren, and his followers had called on him to fix broken fences and enchant children’s toys.

Ren had been a neighbor long before he’d been a god, and he’d preferred it that way. Even as the people he grew up alongside grew old without him, even when the children he watched play became adults, even when those adults introduced him to children of their own.

The first person to call him My Lord is his paladin, and this is only because Ren can’t tell the man his real name.

Unlike most of Ren’s people, Martyn thinks of Ren first and foremost as a god.

He isn’t devout, not really, but Martyn is the first to try holy devotion. He promises offerings from his meals, as transparent as he is with holding back the best for himself. He offers conversation he calls prayer, and it means everything to a lonely flame. He offers an oath, and with it Ren has purpose in a world bereft of the thing he lived and died for.

Martyn believes himself to be paladin to the God of Dogwarts, the once-city’s protector and patron. There are plenty of reasons which Ren thinks him incorrect, but they boil down to a difference in domain.

Ren has not been God of Dogwarts since he lost it—For twenty years, Ren has not been anything at all. Not until a soon-to-be paladin found his tomb and dragged him back from his could-not-be death.

Ren has remade himself once, a god for a city abandoned. He remade himself again, flame without light. Martyn remakes him a third time—revives him, gives him purpose.

These days, Ren fancies himself God of Martyn.

And, well. Ren may be a god, but his heart is still the same as when it was mortal. The blood he bleeds is not ichor, and it runs red as anything that dies—or it used to, anyway, back when he had blood to shed.

Martyn may love Ren as a god, but Ren loves him the only way Ren’s ever known how—like a mortal. Ren has never wanted for offerings or temples or worship. What Ren’s human heart wants from Martyn is simply to stay at his side.

Still. Ren will be his god, as long as Ren can be his.

[a-blue-eyed-hoe]

Sorry if this one's dark but like

Do Colton and his actions arill haunt you? Shit like that like

Never really goes away

Short answer: Yes and I hate it.

[iris-kinnie]

Genuinely about to have an insanely devastating day. So I’ll probably either be really inactive because of how miserable I’ll be, or really active to try to distract myself.

[youngyoo-apologist]

Writing fanfic with like 90% of the plot already planned is so funny but also so painful because every time there’s a mystery I purposefully put into the story as something that will be foreshadowed to revealed and revealed later in just praying people don’t think its a plot hole.

Like for example, the timeline OG Cale and Choi Han living in being different from TBoaH with some similarities. (The major differences being that Lily Henituse is alive, and while the rest of the continent took a pretty hard hit with the war, the Roan Kingdom managed to rebuild some of itself later in the war) , this one is so important because like, things aren’t supposed to be that way! I didn’t change canon for no reason! That happened for a reason! Guys! I swear!

Same thing with like KRS and OG Cale being able to hear eachother since they were young through their dreams, like that also has a reasoning behind it I promiseeee guys I swear😭😭 it’s like my biggest irrational fear that people will think that I’m just doing these things with nothing to back them up even though I know I shouldn’t rlly think abt it too much and just write the story like I intended 😭😭

I feel like a part of writing fanfic, especially LCF fanfic that makes me so nervous is the fact that canon is already and established and really well written universe. If things change, I feel like I need to make it OBVIOUS that they changed on purpose and not cause I’m changing things for the sake of changing them.

Sometimes I re read older chapters and go “wow, the delivery of this line sucked! I should re-write that slightly” because I’ve gotten better at phrasing things but WHAT IF ITS TOO LATEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭 when I don’t have a limited vocabulary anymore it’s going to be the day I write something real good

Like I’m reading the early chaoters of [In the Borderline] and it’s like, FUCK some of these things just look like a dues ex machina even though they have reasons behind them.

I think a huge part of it is because of the wording, and how sudden everything is, I should have emphasized the characters confusion to these things to as a way to show that yes, things are off, BUT I DIDNT BECAUSE WHEN I WAS WRITING I FORGOT TO PROOF READ 😭😭😭😭 AND NOW ITS TOO LATEEE

Idk I’m just saying stuff at this point, but I guess my point is for a story like lcf, I want my fanfic to be something good becauee I really love lcf. I want to be able to write a story that shows how much I love the characters and things I want to see happening, but without erasing importance of characters or anything from TCF because I firmly believe that KRS is important no matter what.

There are things I will never change, like KRS being the one to name Raon, KRS being the children averaging whatever years old’s father, KRS having the silver shield(cause I think that’s like THE ancient power that represents him, that and Vitality of the Heart)

In a regression fic like [In the Borderline], where the time line has diverged so much, and in general is a fic that plays the long game when it comes to plot points, I just want it to be clear that everything happens for a reason and that I’ll never change KRS’s importance to the story, cause in that fic, OG Cale and KRS are both so important.

Choi Han too but he’s like, supposed to be cool and mysterious rn I can’t reveal too much abt him and TBoaH and why the world Cale and Choi Han lived in has so many differences from TboaH novel

[stardust-sunset]

te vent-ish? under the cut.

i think my favorite part of today was when my uncle came up to me and told me i was ‘a real tough kid’ because i was wrestling with my brothers but one of them literally was holding me by the neck underwater and wouldn’t let me up until i started screaming bloody murder for him to stop because i felt like i was gonna pass out.

[bitchapalooza]

Every veteran nations’ reaction to getting stabbed