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Prompt: After Round 6, Till realizes that he has nothing from Mizi or Ivan, so he keeps Ivan’s coat on his shoulders and scribbles it over with black and red spray paint in the same fashion he did with his t-shirt. By the time Round 7 starts, Till walks up on stage wearing the coat like a cape and the crowd goes wild because oh shit, he keeps trophies of the people he beats. In reality, Till just wants something resembling a connection to Ivan and if anybody so much as touches the coat he will bite and growl like a wild animal.
The resistance saves Till, and Mizi notices that the coat hasn’t been washed since Round 6. It still has dried, bloody holes from where Ivan got shot. Till begrudgingly allows her to wash it.
Later, he’d stitch up the holes and use the coat as a canvas. He’d draw on it several times. At some point he would add a depiction of a meteor shower.
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do what you want with this information but I feel like piper's (and percy's) paparazzi should have had a bigger role in hoo. please feel free to expand with your thoughts.
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new shifting mound dialogue... she's so real for this one
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You are a shapeshifter who has secretly taken on many fake villain personas across the world. Your goal is to fight each hero you meet with a persona that embodies said hero’s worst traits, forcing them to change for the better in order to defeat you.
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This a a reminder to not fall victim to the sunk-cost fallacy. Just because you invested time and energy into something, does not mean you should indefinitely waste more time and energy on it, if you decide it’s not what you want anymore. This goes for anything, from books, to relationships, to jobs, to hobbies, etc.
If it’s not serving you anymore, move on.
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There’s something so important about dungeon meshi choosing falin to be their missing party member. She’s their healer. She is, in many ways, the most important member. She’s the one who ensures they all come home in one piece at the end of the day. So from a storytelling perspective, it makes sense that it would be her. It intrinsically raises the stakes by taking away the party’s ability to quickly heal.
But from a thematic standpoint it’s even more significant. Falin is the best of them. She holds them all together. There’s a reason why the party splits up when they lose her, after all. The only reason Laois and Marcille know each other is because of Falin, so by extension she’s the only reason their party exists the way it does.
There’s something almost divine about the way she’s characterized by her friends. They talk about her kindness, think of what she’d do if she were with them. You never hear anyone speak poorly of her. Everyone else has flaws. Laois struggles to connect with others, Chilchuck can’t admit when he cares, Marcille refuses to be wrong, and Senshi is very stuck in his ways. None of these are necessarily a bad thing. It just makes them complex people. But Falin is almost more of an idealized concept than a person.
And then we see Falin on screen, a mess of bones and viscera. We see her put back together with forbidden magic, her new body soaked with blood. We see that there’s something off about her, that alongside her kindness is incredible power. And everything up until that point reframes itself. Falin has always been part monster, from her compassion for the dead to her magic school hideout in a dungeon. She dies and comes back, not just changed but amplified. She’s a healer, a ghost, a monster, all tucked beneath the same skin.
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can u write a fic of ivantill navigating their feelings after the kiss if they were both saved by the rebels
Till was annoyed. He was also feeling a lot of other things, undoubtedly, but annoyance was at the top of the list because why wouldn't they just let him see Ivan already?
"Can you please stop pacing?"
He paused mid-step and glanced over at Mizi.
"I just found out one of my friends who I honestly thought was dead has actually been alive this whole time and my other friend is currently being operated on after nearly giving his life to save me. Sorry if I'm a little antsy."
Mizi gave a small smile, undeterred by his bluntness as usual. Or what used to be usual. Till wasn't so sure what had or hadn't changed.
"He'll be okay, I promise." Even as she said it, her eyes were drawn to the closed door. They couldn't even hear anything through the thick metal. "You heard them; the wound was pretty minor. Just grazed his side."
Till pressed his lips into a thin line, hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Why did he do that?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Mizi stood up and crossed the hall, drawing him into a hug. He used to dream about this - having her undivided attention - but now it did little to ease the terrible pain in his chest.
Sniffing once, he hugged her tight. She didn't say anything, even as began to cry into her shoulder.
-
It was nearly two hours before the door opened and one of the healers - Mizi had introduced them but honestly Till couldn't remember her name; he had been kind of traumatized at the time, okay? - stepped out.
Till tried very hard not to focus on the blood staining the front of her shirt. "He's stable," she said.
"Okay, great." Till didn't even wait before trying to push past her; she didn't budge. "Come on! I just want to see him."
She smiled politely. "I didn't say you couldn't. Just try and be quiet, okay? He might be doze in and out, don't try to force him to stay awake."
Till pursed his lips. "I know," he grumbled. Mizi joined his side.
"Thank you," she said. With a shared nod, the healer left. Inside the room was the other healer; he quietly set a rag on Ivan's forehead before also leaving the room.
"He still has a slight fever," he explained. "If he asks, you can refresh the rag." He pointed to a bucket on the table with what Till could only hope was clean water.
Once he was gone, Till walked over to the bed and sat down. Mizi sat on the other side of the bed. Ivan hadn't stirred since they walked in.
He looked bad - terrible, even. His skin was even paler than usual, there was a bit of crusted blood still at the corner of his mouth, dark circles under his eyes.
But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
"I'll just stay until he wakes up," Mizi said quietly, staring at him. "I just want to make sure he's okay."
Till had almost forgotten he wasn't the only one who had been wounded by what happened. He suddenly felt a little guilty.
"You don't have to leave," he said instead.
She smiled over at him; there was something about the look in her eyes that made Till feel exposed. He didn't like the feeling. "I think you two need to talk."
He didn't argue, even if the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about what had happened. Any of it.
-
Ivan woke up about ten minutes later; he was groggy, as expected, voice hoarse and scratchy.
"Here." Till moved without even thinking, grabbing a cup he had noticed on the table a little earlier.
Ivan was too weak to even hold it. Till adapted quickly; he held the cup to his lips and tilted it back a little. Once Ivan was done, he set it aside again.
"So," he licked his lips. "I guess this isn't heaven, huh?"
Mizi laughed softly. "Not even close. But you're safe here, at least."
He sighed, groaning a little as he tried to sit up. Till moved quickly, gently grabbing his arm to help him. He wasn't even sure if he should be moving yet but he wasn't about to fight him; that just seemed like asking for even more trouble.
"I really expected to die up there," he said once he was settled, the rag fallen at his side. Till grabbed it, plopping it in the bucket for now.
Mizi pressed her lips together. "I think I'm going to go see if they have anything that'll be easy enough on your stomach," she said, gently touching Ivan's shoulder as she stood.
"I'm not hungry," he replied automatically.
She clicked her tongue. "Too bad; you need to eat to recover."
Without waiting for a reply, she swept around the bed and paused just long enough to squeeze Till's shoulder once before leaving the room.
The silence was almost suffocating.
"You weren't really choking me," Till blurted.
Ivan side-eyed him. "Of course not," he said slowly. "Did you really think I would?"
Till opened his mouth, closed it. "I'm not really sure of anything anymore," he admitted quietly.
"It was just a ploy," Ivan continued, looking away. "I don't know. I just needed them to believe it."
It was silent again for a few beats. Till stared at his hands.
"You could've killed me," he said eventually. "I didn't care."
He chanced a look; Ivan was still staring ahead at nothing, his mouth a tight line. "I would've never let that happen," he said and for a moment Till wasn't sure what he meant until - "I would've done anything to ensure your safety."
And that was the crux of it, huh?
Till thought of Ivan's hands around his throat, surprisingly gentle. He thought about his mouth. His lips. He had kissed Till like he was searching for something. Like he needed something.
"You kissed me," he said. It felt weird, finally saying the words.
Ivan snorted, shaking his head minutely. "I did." He side-eyed Till again. "I know it was selfish of me. I know."
"But if you could do it over again, would you still kiss me?"
Till wasn't even sure what had motivated him to ask. Ivan smiled; it was almost sad. "Probably."
He nodded. He wasn't upset. He wasn't even sure if he had been upset, in the moment, not for longer than a second. Mostly he had been confused.
But now that he had time to think on it, he wasn't so confused anymore.
"I never knew," he mused quietly. "I mean." He looked up, suddenly a little angry. "You never told me. You should've told me."
All that time he had been chasing after Mizi and a part of him had always known it was never going to happen. She had loved - she still did - love Sua.
Time wasted. He had never even considered...
"There was no reason to burden you with my own feelings," Ivan said evenly. "I'm selfish, maybe, but I didn't want to make things even more complicated for you."
Till breathed out through his nose. "You really think you were doing that for my sake?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level. "You think you had the right to decide what was best for me?"
Ivan stared back at him, eyes as dark as ever. "I don't understand."
"You kept it from me," Till continued, pressing a hand to his chest, "because you were scared to say it. You were scared of how I would respond."
Ivan let out a humorless laugh. "We both know how you would've responded, Till." He sighed. "This is a pointless argument to have."
He still wasn't getting it. "No," he said, leaning closer. "We don't know how I would've responded because you never gave me the chance."
"Just like you gave the same chance to Mizi?" he shot back.
Till pressed his lips together. "That is not the same and you know it. Sua loved her back. It was different. I - " He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.
Suddenly the fight was drained out of him. Ivan eyed him warily.
"You what?" he asked, looking cautious and almost nervous. Till had never seen that expression on his face. He always looked so in control of everything. It was nice to be reminded he was really just human like the rest of them.
Till swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I think I could've liked you, Ivan. If only I had known."
Ivan stared at him like he wasn't really seeing him. "No," he said, too fast. He looked more scared, here, than he had up on that stage.
"Didn't factor that into your little plan, huh?" he asked; without asking, he pulled the rag out of the water and wrung it before leaning forward to gently scrub away the dried blood on his chin. "I don't think I ever really liked her, not in the way I thought I did."
Ivan was silent, his jaw clenched.
"I was just - I needed something. An escape. A dream. She was nice to me. Pretty..." Till sat back. "I think I just really wanted someone to care about me."
Ivan glanced at him briefly before looking away again.
"But this whole time I was blind to see I had that," Till felt his eyes burning. "Maybe you weren't as obvious about it, maybe you had your own way of showing it, but... that doesn't matter." He tossed the rag aside and reached for his hand; Ivan stiffened as he grabbed it but didn't pull away. "I would like to have a second chance."
Ivan stared at their hands. "You don't owe me this," he said, voice still carefully even.
"I'm not offering anything because I feel like endowed to you," he squeezed his hand, hard. "You know me well enough to know I wouldn't do that. Now stop fighting me on this and look at me."
Ivan lifted his head.
"Thank you, Ivan," he said, staring into his eyes - dark, yes, but warm, comforting and familiar - "for caring about me, even when I couldn't see it."
Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. He squeezed his hand back. If Till didn't know better, he would even say he was blushing a little.
Maybe he would always have a bit of regret for not really seeing Ivan earlier. Maybe Ivan would apologize many more times for kissing him without permission. Maybe he would try to apologize for hurting Till, even if he didn't. Not really. All the pain he had felt - the real pain - was cured the moment he had known he would be okay. Maybe they would still struggle a lot, have bad and good days, but maybe that was okay.
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It breaks my heart to see how underrated pigeons are. The fact that we had literally domesticated them, making them absolutely dependent on us and now that we've abandoned them, we treat them poorly when they try to coexist with us. It's our responsibility for how they have adapted, how they can't build nests and how they try to find food wherever we are. Please be nice to pigeons
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everyone's doomed
also on youtube
youtube
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Original
The gays are fighting
I love the sweet, sweet smell of irony - even if their situations are a bit different when you go into more depth. Hurray to Mizi and Till for all the trauma they get to add onto the already preexisting stuff.
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god I love caretaker-turned-whumpee so much. "I'm going to scream. don't stop." coaching someone through stitches. explaining the procedure step-by-step, knowing the motions by heart and knowing your life has to be in someone else's hands. "take a deep breath. steady. you can do this." pushing aside the agony in favor of keeping your inexperienced caretaker calm, clinical precision even in pain, "hold me down," the trust and vulnerability in letting someone heal you when you spend your life healing others. ugh. it's so good.
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im noticing that for a lot of americans “free palestine” has been an ideological motto and symbol rather than them actually believing in their heart that freedom is attainable and necessary
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What's the trope name for when someone finds out they're the Chosen One(tm) and is like "No, thank you" and goes and does something else
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“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.
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