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flowercrowngods · 8 months ago

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okay due to popular demand (3 people mwah!), here's all i have on prisoners ranger!steve, bard!eddie, and the royal entourage accompanying the diplomatic mission that went so horribly wrong

Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess.

Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory.

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is.

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery.

Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when—

“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.”

Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore.

“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain.

It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.

Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak.

Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then.

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now.

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now.

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.”

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much?

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?”

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much.

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to do is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful.

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off.

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter.

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.”

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.”

“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile.

“Not with my friends, no.”

This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft.

“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.”

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.”

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders.

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

———

Steve wakes to something cold touching his forehead, moving to his temple where suddenly a jarring pain wrecks his body and he can’t quite suppress the flinch.

“Forgive me,” comes a quiet voice from above and Steve opens his eyes to the darkness of a cell, only faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a torch somewhere and the redness of the setting sun. “But I am glad to see you awake.”

The voice belongs to Eddie, who is looking down at him, a piece of cloth in his hand. Gently, he presses it to Steve’s forehead again and the cool sensation comes back, gentler this time. It takes a moment for Steve’s tired and frayed mind to catch up with reality, but when it does, he realises that the bard is washing away the dried blood and cleaning his wounds.

What an odd picture they must make.

“Tell me,” he says before he has time to consider his words. “Is it normal for a bard of Northlands to take care of wounded Rangers?”

“No,” Eddie says and there’s something to his voice Steve can’t quite identify. He’s not sure he likes it, not sure what it does to his insides. “There are never any Rangers there.”

Even through the dim light, Steve can see the mirth in his eyes and it makes him laugh – if only briefly, for his body is quick to remind him that any sort of movement is a bad, terrible, truly horrid idea. He just barely manages to suppress a groan, but nothing could get past the bard’s eyes, and his hand moves from Steve’s forehead to his cheek almost immediately.

“Careful, my friend. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Stop making me laugh, then. That would make it all so much easier.” There’s no heat behind his words and he doesn’t even try not to lean into the touch.

Eddie hums but stays quiet otherwise and keeps wiping Steve’s face clean, watching his every reaction. A frown slowly forms between those brows and Steve wonders what that is for. Did something happen while he was out of it? Time passes differently in the desert, yes, the sun and moon following different paths, but he can’t have been unconscious for more than three hours. It is barely yet nightfall, their cell colder than before.

Three hours. And Eddie still sits cross-legged with Steve’s head on his thigh.

Guilt and embarrassment shoot through him and he wants to move, wants to get up and release the bard from his demeaning task of playing nurse to a wounded Ranger, but his ribs protest and his head pulses with white-hot pain before it sends his world spinning again and Steve sags back into the warmth of Theodore.

“I must be painting the most pathetic picture of her Majesty’s Rangers. I swear, most of us are better than this.”

It comes out light hearted as always, despite the pain it leaves inside his chest to be presenting himself like this. Representing all Rangers to the kingdoms of the South with his weakness. All that on top of losing Will. Again.

He closes his eyes against the pity he is bound to see in Eddie’s eyes.

“You paint a picture of bravery such as I scarcely saw it before. Never in my life did I see a man move so slowly, so unseen unless as I was looking right at you. You are excellent with the sword and the bow, and even the weapons of the desert folk are natural to you. I can imagine the pain and suffering you have seen, some of which you must have caused in the name of justice, yet you carry inside yourself a light-heartedness that is refreshing to say the least.”

Steve swallows, has never been good at taking compliments, and luckily hasn’t been in the position to accept them in quite a while.

“Light-hearted?” he rasps. “You can’t be talking about the same Rangers I know, surely.”

“I was talking about you, Steven,” Eddie admits quietly, and his voice is so tender when he says his name that it makes Steve’s breath hitch.

“Oh,” he says intelligently. Swallows. “Then the head injury must be severe.”

“Admirable of you to hide a concussion for so many days. I think healers of all kingdoms would have a lot of questions for you if they knew.”

Steve huffs and smiles through the pain of his undoubtedly broken ribs protesting. “My apologies, Eddie. Queen Joyce of the West and Sir James himself would both have my head if I taught you our concussion-hiding ways.”

“A pity,” Eddie says and there’s that smile in his voice again that doesn’t show on his lips, at least in this light. Steve doesn’t care, though, as he smiles up at him.

This moment in time belongs to the both of them as Steve finds he can’t quite look away, and it’s not the pain that keeps him.

Eddie opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again. The frown reappears between his brows and Steve wants to reach out and smoothen the creased skin above his nose. If only moving his arm didn’t require such strength that keeps evading him, the night weighing heavy on his limbs.

After another minute, Eddie does find his words, though they are quiet this time. “I worried.”

“About what?” Steve asks when he doesn’t continue.

Eddie resumes his endeavour of washing the crusted blood from his hair and face, the sensation soothing his skin but not his nerves. Steve does reach up this time to still his hand, and the bard meets his eyes again.

“That you wouldn’t wake up.” It comes out small, void of that usual easy confidence.

Steve swallows every comment on the tip of his tongue about how the rest of their group could easily keep Eddie entertained without any concussions bothering them. It’s not often that he has control over his tongue, but in the face of such open worry and vulnerability, his heart aches and he wants to say the right thing.

“I’m awake, Theodore Munson. It takes far more to put me out for good.”

It’s a lie, he knows. It would not have taken that much more, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“Don’t let them hear that, they will take that as a challenge.”

Steve only gives a non-committal hum and closes his eyes again. If he didn’t, the darkness of the cell and the kindness in Eddie’s eyes would have made him say stupid things like, Let them, if that means everyone else is safe. That would surely dim the light in those black eyes and very likely make Jim throw a boot at him. And Steve really doesn’t want to have to deal with either of those things.

Eddie resumes his task of gently cleaning him, and Steve gets the feeling that the bard must be doing it for himself just as much as for him. It’s something to keep himself occupied, and the way he talks betrays his intentions in turn of keeping Steve awake and occupied, too.

A gesture that is almost too kind to bear, as dusk turns into night and the silver light of the full moon illuminates their cell.

———

Jim lies just a few feet beside them, and now that his eyes have had the chance to adjust to the darkness properly, the concussion already weaker than it was earlier, Steve can see that his eyes are open. Or, one eye is; the other is swollen too badly. Another wave of guilt and shame clouds his senses for a moment and he has the urge to ask forgiveness. He feels responsible, even though he knows Jim would hit him over the head if Steve so much as mentioned that.

His eyes cut back to Eddie above him when a yawn interrupts the bard’s steady movements with the cloth that is barely wet anymore.

“You never got any rest, did you?” he asks – stupidly, because the moment the words leave his lips Steve remembers the very reason for Eddie’s wakefulness. He winces before the other man even gets the chance to answer. “Right, my fault. Forgive me.”

If the ground beneath him could open now, he would have a banquet in its honour. With a groan, he moves to sit up and free Eddie of his dead weight, the motion pulling on his cuts and bruises, irritating his broken and burning ribs in a way so sudden it steals his breath for a second. Steve is well acquainted with pain, but the all-encompassing nature of it right now is thoroughly unwelcome.

Hands come up to steady him, guiding him to sit up and lean against the stone wall, his own shoulder coming to rest against Eddie’s, who only slowly lets go of him.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s hardly a question of fault,” Eddie says in that calm, soothing way of his that keeps making Steve want to reach out and hold on. Hold him. “And it was no hardship to stay and… be gentle.”

Something in the back of his mind wants to tell him something but it’s too foggy to grasp.

“Gentle,” he says, inquiring, as though saying the word out loud would tell him its meaning.

“Even Rangers of the Kingdom deserve gentle hands and smiles. Even if they are too badly beaten and concussed to recall their request.”

Eddie’s words aren’t making sense, but what they do is make his heart beat faster for some reason other than shame and embarrassment. He presses his lips together and tries to find his voice.

When he finds it again, it’s barely more than a whisper hidden in the moonlight. “Allow me to return the favour, then. Rest, Eddie. Find some sleep while I ensure it is safe.”

Something shifts in those black eyes and Steve wants to chase it. Eddie cast in silver light of the moon is different than the golden figure of the past days. Less imposing and more… fragile. Gone is the teasing, replaced with something more… More. It suits him, the light of the moon, as much as it makes Steve’s heart and mind race.

“Will you smile at me still?” Eddie asks at last, and even the darkness cannot veil the quiver in his voice.

Steve is reminded of something he must have dreamed of earlier, but he cannot focus on that, not with the way the moonlight catches in those dark curls that have managed to slip out of the band keeping his hair bound at the back of his skull. Not with the way it illuminates the twitch of his lip or the impossible way he is looking at Steve still.

“Always,” he says before he can even think about it. Always, he thinks. However long that may yet be.

Another smile twitches and tugs at the bard’s lips, lingering in its nature as he closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind them. It can’t be comfortable, and Steve has half a mind to offer his own lap, but there is something about seeing Eddie so calm. He doesn’t dare to interrupt him.

He waits until Eddie’s breathing has evened out before he gives in to the urge to brush the treacherous curl behind his ear. It leaves his fingertips with a tingling sensation that makes him want to do it again, so he does. Sitting there, trying to breathe through his broken ribs and his fluttering heart, Steve doesn’t dare to do it a third time, as much as he yearns for it.

He rests his own head against the wall, too, and watches the bard, because watching him is easier than letting his gaze wander and be reminded of the situation they’re all in.

The moonlight guides his gaze towards Eddie even as he tries to look away, and Steve watches as it caresses the bard’s features in such a way as though that is what it has been sent here to do.

It makes Steve smile even as the ache in his chest grows stronger. He is starting to realise what this is, and he’s too weak to fight it. Not in this prison cell, not in this foreign country where the sun is out to kill you and the moon will watch you shiver helplessly.

How could he fight the moonlight and its tender caress, the world tinged in silver as he lets it work its magic on him? Only a fool would be able to resist.

“Steve.”

He just barely manages not to flinch as Jim’s rasping voice rips him away from his musing – no, his yearning. Turning his head, he finds his eyes in the dark, though he can’t make out any question or command in them. Has Jim caught him? Does his old mentor know his thoughts regarding the bard, has he seen the twitch in Steve’s fingers as he refused to let them reach out and touch?

Jim’s silence is as good a command as any, and summoning all his might not to let his face betray the pain shooting through his body, Steve gets up with a suppressed groan and walks over to his old mentor.

As slowly as possible without giving away the pain that feels like his ribcage is being both torn apart and pressed together, he sits down beside Jim, guiltily thanking the swollen eye and the darkness, for he seems none the wiser to Steve’s injury.

“Don’t do that again.”

Steve freezes, his thoughts tumbling over themselves trying to figure out what exactly Jim refers to — the guilt still warring inside him insists that there are many things he should not have done.

“What do you mean?” he asks, feeling like he is but a green student again, getting berated by his mentor after he did something wrong.

“Take a beating for me. I understand why you would do it for the others, but—”

“Jim,” he tries to interrupt him with a gentle sigh, but the old man won’t have it.

“No, Steve. They hate me more than you, we don’t need you riling them up and making things worse for yourself.”

“I will not let them break your arms and ribs, James. I can take it, I’m—”

“If you say you’re younger, Steven, I’m going to throw you out of the window..”

An innocent grin spreads his lips and he inclines his head, meeting Jim’s good eye. “But I am.”

He sees the hand coming, shooting out from below, but his range of motion and reflexes are still heavily impacted by his injuries that he can’t manage to get out of Jim’s reach in time. Before he knows it, Steve loses his balance and falls flat on his back without any grace but with all the more agonising pain.

Nobody would have been able to hide broken ribs and a nearly split skull like this, but Steve still mentally kicks himself as the wheezing groan of pain leaves his lips.

All traces of mirth leave Jim’s expression and everything turns into worry as he, too, sits up with a groan to check over his former apprentice.

“By the Gods, Steve, are you okay?”

Another groan that is supposed to be somewhere between “Just peachy” and “Fuck off”, but even that sound is pathetic with the way the air has been pushed out of his lungs at the impact. All he manages is a whimper, and he doesn’t try to open his lips for more than that.

He doesn’t even attempt to sit up this time, can only try to catch his breath and breathe through the agony with more wheezing, rattling whimpers. Hands hover over him in the dark, but he shakes his head rapidly, scared that Jim would try to touch and feel the injury, only to find a broken rib or two. Or five, at this point.

His lungs don’t work right and he can’t quite catch his breath. It is only experience that tells him this is normal, this will pass, he will breathe right again. Hopefully.

“For God’s sake, why would you hide an injury like that, Steve? Why would you… You idiot!”

There is movement around him in the cell, the others waking up from Jim’s anger and worry and guilt, but Steve keeps his eyes closed lest the tears fall.

“Breathe,” Jim tells him, and Steve finds that to be a wonderful idea, actually, so he tries. And he tries again. “Yes, good. Breathe, Steve. It’s all going to be fine, you’ll get through this.”

“Have to,” he presses, barely any sound to his wheezing. “So you can throw me out of the window.”

“Fucking moron,” Jim mutters, though Steve can hear the emotion in these two words. It makes him smile despite the situation.

“S–sorry,” he wheezes again, and trusts that Jim understands that he means more than his sarcastic retorts or the hiding of the wounds. Sorry for losing Will again. Sorry for not saving Elanor in time. Sorry for failing the mission. Sorry for being weaker than you need me to be. Sorry for—

“It’s alright, Steve,” Jim promises and there are fingers in his hair again, wetness running down his cheek. Did the fall open his head injury again? The situation must truly be dire if Jim is being outright gentle and worried. “Just don’t do it again. Let me take them next time.”

He wheezes again, but won’t make that promise. If their captors come back, he knows he won’t sit and watch them hurt his friends, won’t sit and watch them treat Jim the same way they treated him on the journey here.

It takes a moment for the world to right itself again and for the cell to become quiet, but somehow Steve manages to get his breathing under control and the pain subsides from agonising to miserable, like before. He rolls his head and looks at Jim through a blurriness in his eyes that he has to blink away.

“You think we’ll make it out of this alive?”

Maybe it’s the pain clouding his mind, maybe it’s the darkness that has always made it easier to ask such questions, but Steve finds the words falling from his lips easier than they should have.

Jim’s expression that just a moment ago has been filled with worry and anger sobers now, and Steve doesn’t quite like what he sees.

“Will is still out there,” he says, evading the question and answering it in the same moment.

“Yeah. He is,” Steve says, not sure if he believes it or not. Not sure if it changes anything. “You’re right.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the moonlight catching Jim’s eyes in a way that highlights the emotions in them. The desperate hope that Will is out there, alive, and reunited with his sister — they have their ways of finding each other against all odds. Always have. Steve likes to believe that they won’t stop now, that a desert can’t keep them apart. That they found friendly faces who won’t betray them, and bring them home.

Bring them home even when Steve and Jim can’t follow them. And Maxine. Princess Elanor would turn the desert into an ocean before she left Maxine to die. But down in their cell, the ocean would leave them to drown all the same.

Jim has hope, though, and Steve decides to follow his mentor again. Just for tonight, when all he feels is pain, when his head is being split open, his chest crushed and bursting, his limbs bloodied and bruised. Just for tonight, he will allow himself not to think, not to worry, and to trust Jim blindly like he did all those years ago.

“Sleep, Steve,” Jim says then, and only now does Steve realise how tired he is, his eyes closed long ago.

He spends a brief moment thinking about Eddie and the promise he made the bard to be there when he wakes up. It’s silly, because he’s merely a few feet away, but it still hurts to have abandoned him to lie there by himself while everyone else has company. When he never moved while Steve himself was asleep.

“You should sleep, too, Ranger.” A sudden wave of warmth washes over him when he hears that voice with its foreign inflections. “You both need your rest, I can stay awake for some time to keep watch and wake you up at the first sign of danger.”

“Eddie, I really don’t mind—“

“I insist, Ranger James. You two have taken the most of their hatred and displays of power, it’s the least I can do.”

Jim seems to hesitate for a moment, but Steve doesn’t open his eyes to look. His lids have become far too heavy, even heavier still when a certain hand is back in his hair to comb through it in even movements, mindful of his wounds. He doesn’t fight the secret smile this time.

“Well, if you insist, bard,” Jim finally concedes, never one to really pass up an opportunity for sleep. “Good night to you, then.”

“Goodnight, my friend,” Eddie says in that calm, kind manner of his that is still new to them, and Steve feels as though he breathes easier for it. “And you, Steven,” he lowers his voice, appearing closer now, “truly are a fool.”

“Oh?” he says, wishing that it wouldn’t hurt to laugh or even just to huff. “What happened to brave, kind-hearted, and whatever else you said earlier?”

“You can have those back when you stop lying about being injured.”

“Keep them then,” he says, and it’s meant in jest, but that doesn’t translate well when you barely have enough strength left for a voice, he finds.

“Sleep,” Eddie repeats, gentler this time, though he sighs long and hard after. “You impossible man.”

It makes Steve smile again, even as an impenetrable darkness wraps around him.

He’s sure that the hum and the whispered, “I see you’re keeping your promise still,” are figments of his imagination, his tired mind playing tricks on him. But it’s a dream he likes to sink into, filled with moonlit skin, gentle hands, and kind words.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) and also @ashipwreckcoast and @universal-gay and @marismorar bc you asked me to post the thing (and also b!)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #this isn't really anything but also it's everything to me rn like it's literally what keeps me sane i go about my day and think of them #and all the tenderness and angst in that prison cell #this is a ranger's apprentice inspired au if you will but nobody knows what that is in my experience lmaoo #dio words #sorry tag list gang this aint really a thing you don't have to look at this i'm really just posting this for three (3) people who asked

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tojiscrack · 19 days ago

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OH MY GOSH. WHAT IF YUUJI.... BECOMES A POTENTIAL LOVE INTEREST IN LIAR LIAR.......... CUS I REMEMEBER SMTHING AB A LOVE TIRANGLE(???) UNLESS IM HORRIBLY MISTAKEN BC I HAVE BAD MEMORY.. BUT... LIKE ITS COMPLETLEY POSSIBLE PLUS THE HEAVY ANGST FACTOR???? IM HAVING A CRISIS THINKING ABT THIS RNN 😭😭😭

liar, liar masterlist here:

oh? 👀

i like this prediction 😇

you’re right about a love triangle, i did mention that before. it’s not exactly a triangle tho, y’know? it’s a different shape. a weird one 😀

i know people tend to hate the love triangle trope (as do i, ‘cause in books/movies/tv shows, they’re all terrible) but i think i can do it justice. like, you’ll want to rip ur hair out of ur head for all the right reasons :)

i love how i have everyone running around like headless chickens with just ONE tag 😭😭

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createandconstruct · 3 months ago

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Any dadmight headcanons?? 👀👉👈

An excuse to gush about dadmight?????? Anon...thank you so much 🥹

I don't even know how to organize these so I'm just gonna start??? (Under read more cause we kinda lost control?)

During those 10 months of training Izuku actually opened up a lot to All Might. Some of this is Toshi probing but it's also because for the first time Izuku actually feels like someone is really, truly listening to him

Toshi knows (but also infers because Izuku isn't one to point blame) the extent of the bullying and Bakugou's involvement in it, but Izuku made him promise not to do or say anything about it

Which yes Toshi kept his word but he also made sure the behavior was absolutely not continuing as Izuku promised it wasn't (cue Toshinori texting Izuku more frequently, eyeing him for injury a little more carefully during training, asking a few more questions about his day, and giving him a ride home even when Izuku insists he doesn't need it)

This, on top of answering Izuku's training questions for days they don't meet, actually opens the floodgates for them to start messaging each other quite frequently

Though Toshinori definitely prefers talking face to face or on a phone call. Case in point: he's horrible at responding. The first couple weeks of their messaging this stresses Izuku the fuck out because he follows hero news so he knows when All Might is out fighting so when the man isn't and isn't answering - well obviously Izuku screwed something up, All Might's annoyed, and Izuku's ruined the one single great thing he's ever gotten

What follows is a training session where Izuku is sullen and not at all as energetic as he usually is which prompts Toshi to so gently ask him what's wrong. It's so caring and sincere that Izuku crumbles stammering out apologies for bothering All Might with his over texting and Toshi is simply ?????? because he was convinced he had responded? And Izuku is just ?????? And they both look at their messages and then All Might is apologizing because he saw those messages and really thought he had texted Izuku back! And oh! It was a misunderstanding! Thank goodness! Training ends early as Izuku can't stop crying with relief. It leaves Toshi flailing a bit at the reaction and it's what really solidifies how easy to tears the kid actually is.

But this is what forces Toshi to realize he needs to get a little better at being a bit more prompt with his replies. He's a little out of practice considering the only person he's talked to in the last few years in Tsukauchi

Once Izuku starts UA they don't message each other as often since they pretty much see each other everyday but Izuku will sometimes send off a little report about how his day or a specific class went if he doesn't have heroics

Toshi is also very much an emote/emoji user and loves the thumbs up. Izuku loves it too because whenever Toshi sends one he can practically envision his hero throwing it up with a smile right there in front of him.

(Spoilers for the end of manga) I imagine that when Izuku graduates and starts attending university for teaching things slightly shift though and he is absolutely FLOODED by messages. Toshi steps back from teaching and actually takes time to enjoy his retirement. He travels quite a bit (in part because of the Iron Deku armor) but it barely even feels like he's gone for Izuku because legit Every. Free. Moment Toshinori is sending Izuku pictures and little updates from his trips

And the messages are a spectrum. Izuku either gets random photos with 0 context and no caption while he's in the middle of lecture OR Toshinori sends a picture with some silly caption or pun followed by an entire PARAGRAPH of what he's up to

And while the novelty of All Might texting him never truly wears off sometimes Izuku's so busy that he can't respond right away

There's a one time where Toshi, all the way across the Pacific, doesn't get a response (because Izuku has just stayed up all night writing a term paper like the good little college student he is) and (admittedly, a little selfishly, cause Toshi's allowed to be) he just sends Izuku a : (

Izuku wakes up, sees it, and is h o r r i f i e d

He sends a frantic apologetic message and Toshi calls him back laughing and telling him not worry. He tells Izuku to make it up to him by taking a break from studying to go out to eat with him once he's back in Japan

On the topic of traveling, Toshi also ALWAYS brings Izuku souvenirs back. The first few trips he gets little touristy items per the location and while Izuku is always happy and appreciative Toshi ends up going back to gifting rare, exclusive hero merch he sometimes finds (searches/pulls some strings for) because that's still the thing that makes Izuku beam and that's all Toshinori wants to do in his later years

And whenever Toshi is back home they spend quite a lot of time together. They'll see movies together, go out for food, and sometimes Izuku will drop by Toshi's place and just to do homework since it's quiet and they both appreciate the company. Izuku has even fall asleep a few times there and it always makes Toshinori all the more thankful he'd gotten a place with a guest room. One that is specifically tailored to Izuku's preferences mind you.

#okay I'm cutting myself off there because I could keep GOING #this doesn't even include the toshinko dadmight headcanons #or the ANGST headcanons #thanks anon I love you this was so fun #mha #dad might #izuku midoriya #yagi toshinori #all might #dadmight #bnha #asks

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necrotic-nephilim · 1 month ago

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for the ask game perhaps 25 or 22? :]

-searchforahero from the main blog <:

for the choose violence ask game!

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

i've answered this one a couple times so hmm lemme think. OH i think the Pre-Crisis relationship between Jason and Nocturna <3 i'd do ANYTHING to have more fanon content for Nocturna being Jason's maternal figure and how their bond could be explored. i think about her a lot and i wish we got more of her, it feels like fanon just glosses over it. which is understandable given it's Pre-Crisis and all, *but* a lot of fanon Jason takes pull from his Pre-Crisis comics so i feel like we should see more of a Nocturna presence. like she seems like the type of character fandom woud love to sink their teeth into. mysterious love interest of Bruce's fights Bruce for custody of Jason? that's PEAK fanfic material. i would like more of her <3

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

i was going to say the obvious one of antis crying about having to filter out Batcest content bc how dare Ao3 not entirely consist of content that caters to their sensibilities. but honestly? a bigger one? any complaints about Devin Grayson as a writer. most information about her is incorrect (she did not change her last name bc of Dick, Tarantula is not her self-insert, she did not write the rape scene as a personal fantasy, she is not in love with Dick) and the information that is correct and genuine criticism of her writing (how she handled the aftermath, how she wrote Dick's Romani heritage, etc) applies to *every* male writer in the industry. it's always *just* her though, that this fandom harps on to the point she's this boogeyman that somehow is responsible for every bad comic plot ever. i'm begging people to move on. complain about *literally* anyone else i'm begging. the genuine criticisms of her have been exhausted and all the other things about her are straight up misogynistic lies. because a woman in this industry will always be more scrutinized. i don't think she's perfect, nor do i think her writing is without flaws, but i do think most ppl complaining about her haven't even read her work. they just want to make a woman into a scapegoat. it'. truly irks me one day I'll write a long thinkpiece about it-

#necrotic answerings #ask game #ily nocturna come back I miss you #give Jason Todd more mothers. that should be a thing #just keep adding maternal figures until he has a weird amount #i'm so serious about the devin Grayson thing #I have thoughts about how fandoms need a female scapegoat #and this fandom has two: Devin Grayson and Carrie kelley.#it's fucking gross and hypocritical from a fandom that claims it loves characters like Steph and Cass #and worships writers like Gail Simone #women are either Perfect or Terrible.#there is never an inbetween.#you cannot be a nuanced woman in fandom.#you are a villain a mother or a saint #and in all cases fandom loves you more if you're dead.#bc then you make the men angst. and that's what's important.

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hauntingblue · 21 days ago

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CAUSE THIS IS THRILLER (bark), THRILLER (bark) NIGHT

Usopp's outfit is so funny for reals

He got the whole squad laughing

Luffy enablers at it again.... (Robin.... I know.....)

The humor panels so far have been so good!!! God this arc is so funny

HE SAID IT‼️‼️

They look like birds 😭😭

It's just too good... luffy taking cerberus and zombies what can't he do

It's just banger after banger what can I say

Franky feeling for other people because of his guilt complex and sanji lying through his teeth and pulling out the women excuse to seem unaffected... yeah

Look at them.... look how they ate

Omg joyboy reference?? (No)

Sanji is rubbing off on usopp.... also chopper noticing that is sogeking's weapon akdhaksjak

ANOTHER SLAY!!!!!

Their priorities: I'm not strong enough, there isn't enough food, and nami isn't here

Franky going from wanting to kill brook for his jokes to making a joke like his after he hears his backstory... exactly (Robin was already enabling him before the backstory even fdagjsfha)

Sanji is altering his body and actually being on fire to communicate to us how fucking mad he is..... I need more of him going insane I do I do

My god what is he doing ALDJALAJALA

AHSAHAHQHAH THEY ARE THE SAME!!! naaah sanji wouldn't force a woman to be his wife

You cant see me but I am nodding my head in agreement over and over

You don't understand he altered his body to communicate to us how mad he is. He inploded himself and then reconstituted again. Those germa 66 genes are insane

You tell em usopp!!!! The first of many girls you've scared into defeat!!! Akdjqknql

Zoro zombie regressed to not trusting robin akdjaks he's still in there

ROBI-CHO SUPLEX??? HELL YEAAAAAH

There is zosa- [GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT]

Super frapper gong.... he is doing combo shots with frobin... omg.... parents....

Everything is so fun I'm having such a good time reading.... and then zosan angst like damn I am being fed well here

#in the anime the guys didn't say they wanted to die aldjlajala for the kids luffy just wants to turn into a clam #thriller bark is so funny.... 'worst arc' my ass.... it's funny as hell and then we get zosan angst. best thing ever #same with skypiea but there we got really nice relationships betwen characters and nolan x calgara homoeroticism for the ages #and LORE for the ages. not like the kuma incident won't be talked about in the history books but yeah #everyone calling absalom perv salom... yeah #sanji in that fucking penguin never gets old.... also HELLO LOLA #moira fought against kaido and lost akdjsksnks is that why he became a warlord? just like whitebeard defeated crocodile?? out of spite??#also what is the land of ice where moira got oars? he also mentioned it before too... i thot he was referring to ryuma so it was wano but n #the legend of the continent puller who built a nation of villains.... okay okay oars....#oars was killed 500 years ago.... ✍️✍️ this somehow feels important bc of its closeness to the void century etc #zombie luffy oars wanting sanjis food.... 🚬🚬🚬 of course.....#oars luffy maintaining his dream... yeah yeah. also namis outfits for this arc are so sickening.... i miss them already #the zombie generals being at absalom's wedding... thats so funny..#luffy oars is so funny aldjslsn just making himself a hat and steering his giant ship... of course #you guys think they are going to make sanji mad about the clear clear fruit in the opla or completely ignore it bc his reasoning is bad #like it makes sense with the wci backstory it does but that would be spoilers lmao. so its either he wants to peep on women or nothing #i love the greek chorus of the two zombies telling the audience how they are both as bad in that regard. amazing #did ryuma use french for his attack.... there is zosan everywhere for tho-[GUNSHOTS]#zombie ryuma's design is also cool as hell.... his blood is literally fire.... come on now....#also zoro says he wants to act like this fight didnt happen... is that why he says fuck all in wano to hiyori? damn. he said i put shame #in you and your country but i will keep it quiet bc you gave me a cool sword and fight and i am actually so honorable. thats him yeah...#zombie zoro and sanji remaining tfait being that they hate (love fighting) each other... there is zosa-[GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT]#i forgot how much oars destroyed them... after enies lobby they seem untouchable but without their captain there... the gears are turning..#also btw i cannot believe im gonna get an answer about why the skypieans and the shandians have wings. thats insane #i am enjoying luffy oars so much it is so fun. trying to enjoy it bc i know i won't be laughing anymore once sabaody kicks in.... fuck me..#usopp and franky wanting to wait for luffy to beat oars down but zoro and sanji know... and they will KNOW soon enough....#i forgor kuma asked about ace to nami... what is going on. kuma coming from the warlord meeting too.... did he want to warn him??#he wanted to inform moria about balckbeard becoming a warlord omg here we go.... also moria being racist towards kuma hello???#and he strictly follows the government.... until here bc he lets luffy go.... christ.... he asks about ace bc he knew what blackbeard did..#reading one piece

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drawbauchery · 1 year ago

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Ok so heres some headcannons for your au imposter. :>

Although imposter is mainly shown dealing/helping with others im sure he has got some issues Besides recovering from the killing game and trying to be a better person. Ok first thing,imposter tends to serpress his emotions,like he barrys any thoughts he doseint want to deal with in the back on his mind so he doesn't have to deal with it. He doseint unpack his thoughts often like when he said "ill unpack this later" he never did. Ok next,they hate mirrors mainly because they probably hate there real face,i mean there body is one thing theres nothing extremely discernable about it. But there face is different. When ever they look at there face all he sees is an emptyshell of a man they dont remember being. They weren't allowed near mirrors for awile. And last thing, He felt guilty for lieing to them for so long that he often questions why his friends actually like him.

Also i drew some art that matches with this

Im not good with angst so it kinda sucks BUT i hope you like it :)

#cloudy-osc #asks #bus au #ultimate imposter #MMM YOU SAY YOU'RE NOT GOOD AT ANGST. LIAR #look at him Q~Q #we totally had the same thoughts about him burying all his issues #he'd rather help people than address that maybe something's wrong with him too #his feelings and issues probably aren't as important as everyone else's right???#everything's falling apart around you so just be a support beam #don't contribute to it #and the mirrors. the guilt. all the self-hatred #someone set the table because this is an e n t i r e m e a l #i think when the others want HIM and HIS attention and HIS help #and not someone he's impersonating #the guilt builds and builds but he also gets a little possessive #makes him bury everything even deeper to keep being supportive so his friends need him more #he's in a loop #please help

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fumifooms · 6 months ago

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was not expecting how head over heels i'd fall for marchil- i stg there's something they put in the sauce like goddamn! and i've loved seeing your posts analyzing their dynamic, really helped articulate what i was feeling. i was wondering if you had any fic recs, or any recommendations for ships with a similar vibe? i'm hungry for them...

I know right, marchil gripped me in a chokehold out of nowhere and still hasn’t let go… The sauce was designed by the demon for me to get addicted specifically. It’s been too long since I haven’t written fic for them. I’m still chipping away at my Marcille & Chil arc analysis I know I always mention it and I started the draft in January but I SWEARRR… Season 1 is ending next week :/ On the upside I’ll probably be more focused. After that analysis, which is only analyzing in depth like one aspect/half of their intertwined arc btw so who knows there might be a part 2 one day, I kept thinking it’d prob be my last marchil analysis but let’s be real, probably not. Every week I find something new to point out about them aah…… Dungeon food, ahh, dungeon food…

Fanfic rec wise, well first I have my own marchil fics, to which I mostly recommend Grind Me Down Sweetly, and then feel free to browse my marchil bookmarks for what seems good! I don’t know what your tastes are but Shroomyystar makes super good angst (and smut), my favorite being 'Til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours about Marcille getting deathly sick and the dilemma to confess or to not confess, incredibly haunting piece of bittersweet but soul-crushing angst AND character study. Like wow! Chilchuck I need to throw you in a river. I want you beside me is cute bedsharing banter. From me to you makes my head spin and makes me shake my screen. And- *gets dragged off before I can mention more* Meanwhile on the flipside, Anita_Amai (the first ao3 marchil writer, still going strong 👏👏) is especially great at offering short and sweet pieces, the tone is usually light and comedic and it always makes me smile and giggle, gives me fluff attacks, the fics always a strong good scene or theme idea too. Just browse and pick any, it’s a good time. There’s soo many more. Honestly I recommend just diving into the ao3 tag and start reading. You can start by kudos and read the highest ones first to dip your toes and get the community classics one out. Early on there was a recurring anon writer who did great bittersweet domestic confession stuff like this one, lifespan angst oughh... Wherever you are now thank you for all your work 😭💖 A lot of new marchil writers are starting to post too! A csm asaden fanfic writer legend just joined the tag so marchil will probably finally get some multi-chaptered fanfics haha~ But yess there’s unrequited angst, there’s self-sabotaging angst, there’s domestic fluff, there’s falling in love and bantery fluff, bunch of good stuff <3

As to ships with similar vibes: The closest I’ve seen so far is honestly weirdly close, it’s the protagonists from a romance comedy josei called Dame na watashi ni koishite kudasai or Please love useless me! I don’t want to spoil but there’s even the guy needing to move on from a doomed love + emotional distance issues and the gal slowly invading his personal life/social circle and my god… They were coworkers, he was rude, he’s a workaholic, he’s reliable, she’s sunshine and needs to get some reality checks... The banter. THE BANTER. He represses and she copes by simping for fictional characters. He made, like, a mutual aid community for ex-gangsters. They dress up in silly costumes sometimes. They’re weeeird about each other in an unlabelable way before dating in a way (in a fun marchil in canon way). It’s so funny she’s cracking open his convoluted personal drama like her morning newspapers. There’s more there’s so much more. Give up on your dreams, make money, love loses 🔥🔥 It’s honestly just a great fun read, it’s such a mood. Haven’t read the sequel yet but there’s one so really if it hooks you you’ll be fed well and for a while. The greatest bits are too spoilery but here, have the vibe.

Howl’s Moving Castle, specifically the book, and there’s a ton of themes and narratives that are so fitting for them that I couldn’t possibly all list, I already made a post on it here if you’re interested in all the details and similarities and my AU thoughts haha.

Teen Titans 2003 the show, Beast Boy x Starfire. THAT’S RIGHT I’M A BBSTAR, BAM! 💥🫶 Jokester that’s dependable x sweet and idealistic but strong and protective. Short gremlin and tall beauty. Friends-coworkers to lovers. Very soft fluffy slice of life ship I like it a lot, and I wrote a fic for it hehe. Might do more one day, I have a bunch of prompts written down and a series I really wanted to get to sob.

I almost forgot to mention Shrek. It’s SO FUNNY how well it goes sometimes… Chil Shrek, Laios Donkey, Marcille Fiona. I want to say Mickbell could be Farquaad but even Mick doesn’t deserve this slander… Shrek 2 fear that he’s not prince charming enough for her oughh. Laios getting to be a horse good for him good for him. Winged Lion singing I need a hero. Someone stop me.

There’s also zenmiyo from Touge Oni but no one reads that </3 I gotta get to my review/lore analysis about that manga it’s sooo good a fave read of mine from last year. Like it’s so fucking good. It keeps just ramping up and getting more crazily good. Scrolling through some pages rn and it’s a unique blend of comedy, philosophy and awe-inspiring visuals and creativity. Well, sort of like late Dunmeshi actually. If it had a fandom any bigger I’d be all over it constantly. And I’d also recommend Harahara Sensei / Timebomb Teacher if it had any english translation, one of my fave mangas also. It’s about mafia, and a goody two shoes willing to go through a corruption arc to save her sister x stern rude mafioso who’s there bc he’s poor and on a revenge mission, never had any other option growing up etc etc. Ok he’s not that Chilchuck but the dynamic does have that "grow up and see the world for what it is, a shithole. It’s been hell for me" vs "ok you have a point. But also have you considered not sacrificing your humanity and emotions in a self-destructive pursuit" (not that she’s in the position to talk lmaoo) like ohh my goood him throwing his popsicle stick in the fire that she lit over a corpse, it haunts me.

From the marchil Discord it’s also fun to notice ships some of us share… Csm asaden, some combination of LotR elf x short guy, fair amount of dunmeshi ships overlap too. Haven’t found the overall common thread quite yet and I’m forgetting many that have come up but lol some off the top of my head.

#Marchil #“Do you know ships like marchil” marchil has 50 layers of themes and circumstances and world-specific dynamics there will never be #another ship like marchil #With that said you can have dollarstore marchil/differently flavored here and there yes #Ask #Sorry for answering days late </3 #Bc i have bad memory and i’m a raging shipper i literally keep lists of ships i like and have a ‘ships that are similar’ section so like.#I was born ready for that question. The random prep for a ship surprise quizz paid off.#There are a few other ships i didn’t put bc they aren’t close enough #With marchil i come for the comedy and stay for all the themes and the angst and the complementary-ness my god… So ships that remind me of #Them tend to come from more comedy focused stuff or whatnot #You gotta appreciate the marchil range man… Fluff angst sitcom melancholy slice of life it can do it all #It’s honestly hard to find protags/love interests that are both scholars and too idealistic. I love Marcille’s academic side </3 #Koishite kudasai is the josei-shojo i’ve related to the most in my life for sure for sure. Adult struggling </3 #I’m rereading to find good pages for this and my god it’s so good i keep laughing. Ah well…! This is why i take so long w asks

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bluehairperson · 2 years ago

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I thought only now about the possibility of Lucio having commissioned some coins with his face on them. Imagine being traumatized by this tyrant and all the things he did, never wanting to see him again after his death but constantly being haunted by his memory not only because of the various monuments around the city, but also because his face is literally engraved on the local currency.

Asra grimacing every time he gets paid by a client at the shop or has to use the same coin to buy bread. The man who took everything from him and made him grow up in absolute poverty is now part of what allows him to afford food and shelter every day.

Julian spending everything he has at the tavern every night because the mere thought of having those coins in his pockets makes him feel heavy with dread. He doesn't even look when he tosses them on the table.

It doesn't matter how far away they both try to escape during their travels, some of those coins always manage to catch up to them no matter where they go. It's like he never left.

#and he never did he's still there 💖#good evening can I offer you some angst #pretty obvious assumption if it was never mentioned in canon but yeah #cool worldbuilding/character development implications #mc who keeps asking asra who's the guy on all the coins and on the huge statues scattered around the town #and asra doesn't really know what to say because he just wants to move on to another topic #and then someone mentions this in front of nadia and valerius and they just seem kinda surprised #because they never had to handle money personally during their lives so they completely forgot about lucio doing this currency thing #aristocrats (derogatory)#muriel just said not my fucking problem and completely removed himself from the city good for him #not art #the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #give all the lulu coins to me no problemo #lucio morgasson

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nejackdaw · 3 months ago

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Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.

Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.

Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.

He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.

And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?

But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.

It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.

They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.

They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.

He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.

She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.

He tells her yes.

#celann #fucking girldad #guy who wants small house white picket fence and 2.5 kids forced to become a murderer #cant live with the guilt and horror and becomes a man he cannot recognize in the mirror more at 6 #me thinking about this last night: he uses Adult Privileges to be tall and look out over the crowd #me writing this: his short ass cant see over everyone else #its fine enough when hes just in the fort like usual but then theres a crowd and hes like goddammit #anyway he has to go get his fancy ingredients because NO you CAN use that but it doesnt TASTE RIGHT #and so he has been banished to specifically get his own goddamn groceries #celann: im a cold blooded killer and i can never atone for the atrocities i have committed. i am incapable of good #also celann: 💞💞💞😊😊😊#the loss of self after the incident really fucked him up he doesnt know who he is #he keeps trying to categorize himself and neatly file himself away but the fact remains #he is both the old celann and a new one simultaneously #however he feels tainted by his actions and thinks of the Before as like a purer time and he is not a pure man #so CLEARLY he is not AT ALL the old celann and those good traits are gone #anyway he goes soft when theres kids just absolutely melts #like the only guy in the dg that can be trusted to watch a small child #also in case it wasnt clear when the mother akss 'does she remind you of her' shes assuming his daughter is dead #shes asking if her daughter reminds him of his own #delivering your typical celann angst and remembering when i said i should write happy things for him #unfortunately this has not happened yet the happy things just happen in my mind

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